#i’m so exhausted and i don’t have the energy to spare

[ptsdpup]

-

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now?

in which fem!reader is insecure around spencer until she finally asks him to take matters into his own hands (literally)

series masterlist

18+ (smut) warnings/tags: inexperienced reader, fingering, softdom!spencer my sweet sweet beloved angel, sub reader, praise, you know he talks you through it, brief mention of drinking wine, i think that's it a/n: i hope u guys like this ! slightly different dynamic than my other stuff maybe but let me know what u think!! i love feedback and i love YOU!!!

“You’re so pretty.”

It’s the first thing Spencer has said since you two landed on his couch, exhausted from one of Rossi’s extravagant soirées. It was your first of many, if Spencer’s entire team is to be believed. More nights featuring Italian food and wine you could never afford don’t sound half bad—but for now you’re drained. You barely had the energy to kick off your heels and topple into Spencer’s lap five minutes ago. The silk dress still pools over his knees and your hair still falls in curls around your face. He brushes one aside as he continues. 

“I mean—you always look beautiful. But I’ve never seen you all done up. You’re obscenely gorgeous.”

You groan awkwardly, burying your face in Spencer’s collar as your face heats. Taking compliments has never been your strong suit, especially from someone who you perceive to be so out of your league. The relationship you have with Spencer is relatively new, and sometimes you worry delicate; like one slip-up revealing the real you and he’ll go running. So far, though, he seems hellbent on proving you wrong. 

His hand finds the bare skin of your arm, passing up and down gently. “Why don’t you believe me?”

“…I do.”

It’s unconvincing. Spencer scoffs. 

“No, you don’t. You never believe me when I compliment you.”

The cadence of his voice is light enough, but it’s evident that there’s some genuine frustration there, lurking just under the surface. 

Your head lolls over his shoulder and he angles his neck to look down at you. Hair falls over his eyes, and you’d fix it if he didn’t look so damn perfect. Everything about him looks intentional, like he was designed by someone who took great pride in their work. Not at all like you—a collage of features and spare parts you guess whatever force created you had lying around. Nothing about you feels on purpose. But that’s a hard thing to explain.

“I’m sorry. I know it’s impolite. It just feels disingenuous to accept compliments like that.”

Goosebumps arise on your arm where he touches you.

“You being polite isn’t what I’m concerned about. I just wish I could make you understand that I mean it when I compliment you. You’d know if I didn’t. I’m a terrible liar.”

That earns a giggle from you. Your boyfriend smiles, sparkling eyes darting over your face like he’s trying to bottle the sound, the memory—and you realize he probably is. What a terrifying thought. You look away, abashed once more. 

“I’m a woman, Spencer. I’m not allowed to like myself. That’s the whole thing with Eve and the snake and the apple and whatever. Eternal inescapable shame.”

“Are you trying to justify your self-loathing by making it biblical? You know I’m the last person that would work on, right? Both as an agnostic-leaning-athiest and someone who thinks you’re beautiful and wonderful.”

Another groan claws its way from your throat as you slide down in embarrassment. 

“You’re killing me here, Spencer.”

“What can I do to do to make you believe me?” he murmurs, carefully brushing tangles from your hair as you now rest practically prone across his lap. The ceiling light stretches behind him, haloing him in a soft glowing crown and making everything a bit more hazy and tolerable. 

“It’s not your fight.” It’s meant to be playfully dramatic, but it hangs from your lips with a painful amount of earnestness. 

“If it’s yours, it’s mine. That’s kind of the whole point of a relationship, right? Being a team?”

His fingers are nimble and warm between yours as you interlace them, steepling and bumping them together as you speak. 

“Well, if you know so much, why are you asking me? It sounds like you know exactly what to do to make me magically love myself.”

A dangerous twitch plays at the corner of his lips as he gazes sleepily down at you. 

“Oh, I have a few ideas. But I’m asking what you’d be comfortable with.”

“Whoa!” you blurt, giggling self-consciously, covering your face with your (and inadvertently one of his) hands. “Where did that come from?”

He smiles at your response to his mildly suggestive comment. “I lose my filter when I'm tired. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.” 

You sigh gustily, dragging his hand down to fall over your collarbones. His fingers twitch over the delicate skin, like he’d graze it if your hand wasn’t weighing his down. 

“No, no, you didn’t make me uncomfortable, you just… surprised me. I’m really bad at talking about this kind of thing.”

“Sex?”

You yelp, slinging your arm over your face and hiding in the crook of your elbow. “AH! Don’t say it!” 

He laughs again, a little less reserved this time. 

“What? You can’t even listen to me say the word?”

“No! Too scary!”

Eventually you peek out from under your arm to find Spencer still watching you. The humor has faded from his eyes and been replaced by a kind of serene calm. He brushes a lock of hair from your shoulder. 

“Come here,” he says—a request more than a demand. With some wriggling and a bit of help, you manage to reorient yourself into a sitting position across his lap once more. His touch is warm even through the fabric of your dress when he kisses you, hand sliding over your waist before moving to trace your jaw and ending up on the back of your neck, urging you closer ever so slightly. You kiss him back without hesitation or restraint, as you delight in doing when he gives you the opportunity. What you may lack in experience and refinement, you make up for with affection and enthusiasm. He pulls away after a minute, much to your dismay, and brushes his thumb over your lips. For the first time, you think you see a hint of worry in his eyes. Guilt claws at your heart when he quietly asks, “you’re not scared of me, are you?”

“No!” You assure quickly, looping your arms around his neck. “No, it’s not you. You’re perfect and I’m sure you really mean all of the nice things you say. But I just… sometimes I worry I’ll scare you away once you realize I’m not as pretty or… good as you thought.”

“That’s impossible.”

Once more you let your head fall onto his shoulder. “You don’t know that.” 

His hand begins running up and down your back, soothing your sympathetic nervous system in a way that all the deep breaths in the world never could. 

“I know that I really, really like you. And there’s not one part of you that I don’t find genuinely beautiful. I can’t imagine not feeling that way about you.” Your eyes flutter shut and you hum against him—a non-answer, but he doesn’t push it. Minutes go by quietly, ticking later into the night as he continues mindlessly rubbing your back and watching you breathe. “Do you want me to take you home?” He finally asks after a long while. Again, you don’t respond. He smiles. “I know you’re awake.”

The corner of your lip twitches as you attempt to suppress a grin. Spencer sighs. 

“I guess if you’re already asleep you’ll just have to stay here. But it would be convenient if you’d sleepwalk to my bed so that I don’t have to carry you.”

When you begin stirring and sitting up (one eye cracked to navigate) he laughs, hands on your waist. “Would you look at that. Who knew she would be so suggestible in non-REM?” You snort as you push yourself to a standing position using Spencer’s shoulders to support yourself, and ruining the whole act. He smiles up at you like you’re something divine and lets his hands trail over your hips. 

“I sleep with my eyes open.”

“Do you often have coherent conversations in your sleep, too?”

You shrug. “I’m full of surprises.”

“I’m sure you are,” he agrees, finally standing himself. “I’m assuming you don’t want to sleep in your dress?”

“I have shorts on underneath I can wear, but a shirt would be helpful.”

“Then we’ll get you a shirt.”

———————————————

Ten minutes later you’re in Spencer’s bathroom, wearing your shorts and one of his sweatshirts (you cannot imagine Spencer in a hoodie), and wiping black sludge from your eyes with makeup remover he claims was left by a friend after a particularly festive Halloween party. Hopefully he’s telling the truth—you can think of more dubious potential origins of the eye-makeup remover in his bathroom. No toothbrush—you use your finger and a generous amount of toothpaste until the red wine stains fade. 

Spencer is fixing the pillows when you exit the bathroom. You hold up your hands which are completely obscured and then some by the thick fabric of his sweatshirt. 

“Fits like a dream,” you say. A smile tugs at his lips as he finishes his task, before raising his eyes to you. The smile promptly fades and it’s like the sun disappearing behind an oppressive gray cloud. In an instant your stomach curdles and you feel like crawling out of your skin. 

“…what?” you mumble, absolutely terrified that the thing he’d said was impossible just minutes ago has already happened. Without makeup, without a fancy dress, you’re just you, and maybe that’s not good enough.

“Uh…” He blinks, as if he’s buffering for a moment, before snapping back into action, and notably looking away from you. “It’s—it’s nothing. Do you, um—here, I tried to make it—“

“Stop. Just tell me what that was. You got all weird.”

Another pause—he looks back up at you reluctantly with a sigh. 

“I did not get all weird.”

“Yes, you did. You’re still being weird. It’s freaking me out.”

He’s utterly unreadable, which drives you fucking insane, when he eventually says, “come here.” This time, you think with a chill as you shuffle on your knees across the bed to sit in front of him, it really sounds like a demand. Spencer grabs your face in his hands, studying you intently. “I know you think I’ve finally decided you’re hideously deformed, but it’s actually just the opposite. I’m trying to figure out how to keep things polite for you.”

Realization dawns on you and the swarm of new butterflies in your stomach. The usual molten gold of his irises has been encroached upon, masked by blown pupils. Your face gets hot and your voice caves when you speak. 

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” he agrees quietly. “Do you believe me now?”

And to his credit, you really do. The hot skin, the vibrating cells in every fiber of your being, the racing heart—your body knows he means it. Part of you, the more confident, more desirous part, drags you closer to him, ghosts your lips over his. He chuckles. 

“Now you’re getting brave?”

“Am I not allowed to kiss you?” you whisper, draping your arms over his shoulders. 

“You’re allowed to do whatever you want.”

The words make you shiver—the lowered, gravelly tone of his voice you’ve never heard before snaps your resolve and you lean into him, connecting your lips with a deep urgency. Spencer inhales sharply, hands wandering to your waist and bearing down firmly as you press against him. When you lean back, he follows you, insists without saying a word that you don’t stop kissing him. It sends a thrill down your spine and between your legs, which both gives you pause and eggs you on. In the end, after a very brief internal struggle, curiosity and desire win. You drop to the bed and drag him down with you—he, your willing follower, blindly searches for purchase on the plush comforter. Now he’s on top of you, legs slotted together so that his thigh is temptingly close to your core. Too shy to actually do what you want to do, you clamp your thighs around his and tilt your hips, desperate for friction. He exhales heavily, slowly pulling his lips from yours like it’s the last thing he wants to do. Fingers dig into the flesh of your hip, not enough to ache but enough to draw your attention to your movements. 

“What are you doing?” he asks, firmly, but not like you’re in trouble—it’s a probing question. He’s trying to figure out if you’re aware of the way you’re nearly riding his leg. 

“I don’t know,” you admit breathlessly. 

“You just told me you couldn’t even listen to me say the word sex,” Spencer reminds you. “You said it was too scary.”

A frustrated whine seems to catch him by surprise, and he laughs. 

“That was a long time ago. I’ve matured since then.”

“Is that what happened?” he teases. 

“Honestly, I’m just really turned on right now, please—" you cut yourself off, crashing your lips into his once more. And he almost relents. 

Almost. 

“Slow down.”

He ceases kissing you for a second time and you’re starting to really get annoyed. 

“What?” you groan. “I thought you wanted this.”

His thumbs brush over the apples of your cheeks, demanding your attention. 

“I want you. In every sense of the word. If you make a bad choice tonight and it means you don’t like me anymore tomorrow, that is the opposite of what I want. I’m not saying no. I’m just asking you to think about it for a second.”

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes and attempting to steady your mind and see beyond the thick fog of lust. What you find is a (mildly surprising) complete lack of fear. You’re not scared, like you thought you’d be; you feel utterly safe underneath him, with his hands on you and his heartbeat against your chest. This is a kind of intimacy you want to have with him. 

Your eyes open to reveal his, close enough you can see the tiny flecks of green. And so much warmth. Everything about him is warm. 

“This is what I want,” you assert. “I promise.”

His gaze flits between yours for a moment, pulling the truth from your soul like he might be able to find an imperfection there. But you mean it—and he seems satisfied. He trusts you, like you trust him. 

“Okay.”

A sigh of relief never quite finds completion before he’s kissing you again. Immediately the fire is stoked once more, the heat between your legs getting warmer when he experimentally pushes his thigh against you. You breathe into the kiss, pressing down on him and surrendering to the unconscious rhythm of your hips. He lets that go on for a minute or two until you’re so distracted that you can’t kiss him back. 

Unexpectedly he pulls away, disentangling himself from your legs. You stammer in frustration until his fingers hook under the soft material of your shorts. “Hips up.”

Wordlessly you comply, succumbing to his gentle words and touch. He bows to kiss you as he slides the fabric down unhurriedly. Once the shorts are gone, he sits up, and carefully lifts one of your legs over his lap, gaze unabashedly glued between them. 

“Eyes up here,” you try to joke, but it’s steeped in self-consciousness and your heart is pounding. He manages, stroking the inside of your knee with a thumb as he leans down again. 

“But you’re so pretty,” he murmurs, before he’s kissing you again. “Just like I knew you would be.”

You whimper when his hand skates over your stomach, lower, and lower, and—

“Tell me one more time, sweetheart.”

Your plead is just as hungry and yearning. “Please, Spencer?”

It works for him. 

When his knuckles brush over your clit, you forget to breathe. When they barely skim your entrance, collecting arousal to drag back upward, your brain malfunctions. It is not enough, maddeningly so, but when he finds a careful, introductory rhythm, it’s immediately bordering on too much, too good. 

Your stomach tenses and you are surprised by your own sighs and hesitant gasps as you try to adjust to the feeling of someone else’s hand between your legs. 

“Does that feel good?” he murmurs against your lips. 

“Mhm,” you chirp. Slow but insistent circles elicit a cry that gets caught in your throat, melting into a hum. Your eyes are closed, but you can hear the smile in Spencer’s voice. 

“You’re sensitive, huh?”

“S—sometimes.”

 He hums contemplatively. 

“Sometimes? Can you tell me about that?”

You can’t hardly think around those gentle movements of his hand, let alone speak. He touches you like you’re something delicate. It’s torturous and perfect. But you try to answer anyway, managing to keep the stammering to a minimum. 

“About what?” 

“I want to know what you think about when you touch yourself.” The smooth words in tandem with an incremental increase in pressure earn you first real moan. Timid and unpracticed, but very genuine. 

The answer comes immediately afterward; thoughtlessly and on a shuddering exhalation.

“You.”

“Yeah?” he smiles. “Good answer.”

Your eyes open fractionally to study his expression. You’d felt so much shame every time you’d imagined him in your bed late at night.

“Really?” 

“Really. And now look at you. Letting me do it for you.” As if to remind you, he speeds up the motion of his hand. On instinct you bring your fingers to your lips as you moan through a closed throat, partly to stifle the noise and partly because you don’t know what to do with the hand that’s not gripping the duvet. “Do you only touch here?” His fingers slide down to your slick entrance and your hips buck, mourning the loss of stimulation. “Or do you touch here, too?” 

You shake your head, breathing hard as he teases a finger around the soft place you’ve never really bothered to explore. “Never feels good when I try.”

“We’re gonna make it feel good, okay?”

You nod hesitantly, leaning back into the pillows when he kisses you again. 

His lips are so distracting, so intoxicating you almost forget what he’s doing until he does it. It’s a foreign sensation—not entirely pleasant or unpleasant. For a moment or two your brows furrow as you focus on the feeling, worried that maybe you’re broken just as you thought—until you feel a slight stretch and you realize he’s pushing a second finger into you now. A kiss lands on your cheek when you grab his arm with a choked gasp, and he mutters, “deep breaths,” into your ear. “I know it’s new, honey, just breathe.”

“Fuck,” you whimper as you look down, and you didn’t realize you were going to say it until it’s already passed between your lips. Pressure begins melding with the promise of pleasure, and something about watching his hand move between your legs—the tendons flexing and wrist bending as he eases into what is clearly a perfected motion—arouses you so much you moan at the sight alone. Flipping pages is all you thought that hand was meant for. It’s like a secret revealed as you watch it do something so salacious, and to you. 

A hot spark of pleasure flares deeper in you than you’ve ever felt. It catches and grows faster than you’d of thought—suddenly you can feel everything and it all feels better than you thought possible. Your jaw drops and a surprised huff of air blows a strand of your hair away. 

“Oh my god,” comes your breathy little whisper, unprepared for and intimidated by how good he’s making you feel. Filthy noises come from between your legs and you clench around his fingers. You had no idea you could make those noises. You had no idea you could get so wet. 

“Yeah, there we go.” His voice sounds a little further away now. You manage to tear your eyes away from all the action to his face. Much like you, he’s transfixed by the sight, brow furrowed and pretty lips parted in what could be concentration, or some sort of empathetic pleasure. His face has more color to it than usual and his breaths come heavier—it’s a very pleasant sight. Suddenly his fingers brush against a spot deep within you and your hips cant upward, a mewl pulled from the depths of your throat that has more control over you than you do it. Spencer’s eyes flash back to you, a grin playing at his lips. He does it again, looking right into your eyes, and you whine so pitifully your face flushes. 

“Too much?” he asks. You shake your head firmly, arching your back when he unconsciously slows down. At your response his fingers begin rutting into you again, committing to that spot inside you that makes you see stars. “Of course not. You’re gonna take whatever I give you, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” you nod. You’d do just about anything for him right at this second. Spencer holds an immense amount of power over you in this moment, and potentially in all future moments moving forward. But you trust him with it. 

“You don’t have anything to prove to me. I just want you to feel good. You’ll tell me if it’s too much, right?”

But it’s really not too much. It’s exactly right. Your verbal capacity is acutely limited right now, so you can’t exactly say it, but you lock eyes with him and whine shamelessly, hips twisting against his hand. You think he gets the message. 

Hair falls over his face and he doesn’t fix it, opting instead to alternate his gaze between your cunt and face, cursing to himself lowly. You wouldn’t want him to stop and fix his hair—what you want is this, for him to keep pushing you toward that elusive edge and to keep looking at you like you put all the stars in the sky. 

“Look at you, my pretty girl. I’m so proud of you. I know this isn’t easy. I know you were scared. Thank you for letting me do this, honey.”

It’s the unexpected tenderness of the words, perfectly misplaced in the context of the moment. It’s the devotion, the honesty in his eyes, shining through the haze of lust, which makes your stomach drop and all your muscles tense. A million thoughts jumble in your head, dizzying and thrilling and confusing, but mostly all you can think is Spencer, Spencer, Spencer. Is this how it always is? Your hands tangle in the sheets—and then all the thoughts vanish. Everything is warm and fuzzy and sparkling clean, no worries, no lingering thoughts, no self-awareness at all. It’s nirvana. It’s revelatory. It’s ridiculous that he did this all in under five minutes and you haven’t been able to do it once even with very concerted effort. 

Slowly you float back into your body, breathing hard and watching through half-lidded eyes as Spencer gently pulls his hand away. Without him you feel weirdly empty and cold, like he should have been there all along. But his touch isn’t absent for long—he runs his hand over the bridge between your hips, little finger dipping into the crease of your thigh. 

“That’s never… I’ve never done that before,” you admit, slurring your words only slightly. 

His perfect features contort into a half-frown, half-smile. 

“You’ve never had an orgasm?” You nod. His head tilts. “Really? You didn’t tell me that.”

“When would I have told you?” you laugh, finding his waist with your hand and encouraging him to settle his weight on you. He does, burying his face in your neck and exhaling heavily. 

“Well?” you ask shyly, skating your fingers over his back. “Did I do it right?”

Spencer snorts, but presses a sickeningly sweet kiss to the curve of your neck. 

“Did you like it?”

“Yes,” you admit, voice smaller than you’d have liked. He pushes himself up onto his forearms and kisses you softly. 

“Then we both did it right.”

“But…” you stare up into his warm honey eyes, searching for any bits of hidden truth you can find. He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, utterly unconcerned. “You know what I mean.” 

“I do,” he agrees, “and I’ll say this because I know otherwise you’re going to worry about it forever.” He studies your face reverently for a moment, before parting his lips to speak. The words are slow to come, like he’s trying to figure the sentence out as he goes along. “You… are going to be, problematic, for me.”

Your whisper is almost as small as you feel under his heavy gaze. “What d’you mean?” 

“I mean,” Spencer begins, voice low, “I think I liked that too much. Do you see why that’s troubling?”

The flame you thought had been quenched flickers back to life like a pilot light. Your thighs press together to alleviate a growing ache in a still sensitive area and you answer, “no,” with a small shake of your head. His thumb tenderly traces your jaw, ever-patient despite the fact that you’re obviously playing coy. 

“Because I can’t have you all the time.”

“Yes you can,” you say without hesitation, though your eyes are fluttering. “You can have me whenever you want. Right now.”

He hums, pressing a kiss to your cheek. 

“Not tonight. You’ve had enough. You’re tired.”

“I’m wide awake,” you slur, tangling a hand in his hair even as you lose the battle against your eyelids. 

He sighs good-naturedly, gently wrapping his fingers around your wrist and brushing his lips over the delicate skin. 

“You’re shockingly precocious.”

You hum. 

“You just unleashed the beast. You’re like Doctor Frankenstein.”

He chuckles, sitting up and finding your shorts. You manage to be semi-helpful, lifting your legs at appropriate junctures as he tugs your clothing back on. “And you’re a nerd.”

“I don’t need to take that from you of all people.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” Spencer says, and the smile in his voice makes you smile, a quarter asleep as he leans over to turn off the lamp on your side of the bed before tugging the covers over both of you. 

He pulls you close in the dark, releasing a deep sigh as you curl into him. His heartbeat is steady against your ear, his arms warm around you. You can imagine making a home for yourself here. And you don’t know if he’s thinking it, but you hope he is, as you are silently repeating to yourself with every beat of his heart;

I love you

I love you

I love you. 

-

part two

[yanderenightmare]

Yandere Satoru and Suguru sharing a darling is what makes me OwO

Gojo Satoru & Geto Suguru

TW: yandere, noncon, condescension

fem reader

It wasn’t really that you were weak… You were just unfortunate.

Unfortunate – to have been placed in the same year as them – Gojo and Geto, the two most promising students Jujutsu High had ever seen.

If only you would keep a lower profile like Shoko – and not be so determined to become the best – you’d be better off and not wind up on your ass each and every day sparring with the two boys – who really were the best. 

But something about their high-and-mighty attitude just makes them impossible for you to ignore.

The way they taunt and jeer, grinning their shit-eating grins – grinding your gears to no end – forcing you to try about anything to just, at least once, come out on top. 

Like now, in the padded sparring room – where you, again, could only barely find a foot to stand on – with what ground you had managed to keep thus far, visibly only thanks to your cocky opponent allowing it.

“You sure you wanna be a jujutsu sorcerer?” Gojo asked nonchalantly, his lanky arms slung around your smaller body with ease, resting his chin off the nook of your neck – unbothered by how you tried and struggled to shake him off.

You were dewy-faced and panting already while he hadn’t even broken a sweat yet. And it only aided in making your head grow ever hotter with vexation. “Take this seriously-” You growled back at him.

But he ignored you – the same way he ignored whatever amount of cursed energy you tried fighting him with. “I mean… I’m sure there are a lot of other things you’d be better suited for.”

After all… the last thing you’d want is for him to take this seriously. 

“Tch- like what exactly?” You bit out, hating his suggestive tone though needing him distracted with the conversation – thinking it would be a good stall to give you some much-needed rest where you stood, trying to hide how tired you were – forcing heavy breaths into smaller ones that made your lungs ache for air and your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

Your weapon had already been thrown to the other side of the room – burst into a shattered broken mess of fragments you wouldn’t even be able to butter toast with anymore. And it hadn’t been the first one. In fact, the entire arsenal had been turned to splinters, leaving you to fight the boy who’d broken them all with only your hands to spare.

“Oh- you know….” He drawled, thinking it cute how you tried withholding your exhaustion from him. Pulling you a little closer to his chest – snuggling into you while thinking – his tongue out in concentration before calling out to the other boy. “Oh- help me out, Suguru.”

Geto sat waiting his turn next to the door, smiling like a cat with eyes closed. “Hmm… something cute…” He began before answering. “Like a maid.” 

You sneered – eyes lowering into a glare at the raven-haired boy who still, without a hitch, kept calmly smiling back at you.

Gojo offered a small snicker, adding to the ridicule, before whispering. “Or a housepet.” His voice, low and mocking in its whispering, yet loud right at your ear – with lips brushing your ear in a way you could tell he was smirking like his equally grating friend.

And it all just coaxed another spur of much-unrewarded effort where you once again tried your best at getting free – another growl spurring up from your gut with a vengeance. “Shut up-” 

“Don’t you agree, Suguru?” The white-haired boy ignored you again – though tightened his grip in correspondence – his long arms thrown in a cross around your front with slender fingers curling, now almost painfully, into the soft flesh of your midriff – having lifted your shirt enough for him to touch your skin directly.

“Mh, I can see it… doing laundry, cleaning the house, making dinner-” The other agreed, standing up with an unbothered sigh, taking slow and soft steps over the white padding to reach the two of you – his shape always much larger, growing like a mass of something menacing – dark and towering and shadowing like some great statue – making you feel so unbelievably small. 

Pulling his hand from his baggy pant pockets, you flinched as it thumbed your chin to make you look up at him – all your struggles gone and almost replaced with shivers instead – now with feeling the intense weight of being not just outmatched but outnumbered too. 

Feeling all but swallowed between the two, an inch of regret steadily crept about your gut, quenching what former fire used to fuel your spirit – leaving you with only an intense sense of defeat and fear.

His smile split with teeth, and you paled in light of it – breath thin as he leaned in closer.

“You’d look pretty natural wearing a pretty kimono… waiting for your man to come home.” He whispered, and you swallowed thickly in return, looking up into his slim eyes, who looked down at you with that small smile of his which seemed to carry a weight that felt crushing.

You tried keeping cool – tried grasping for any semblance worth of calm you could manage – even as Gojo’s hands, warm and soft, gently started messaging circles into your sides – his lips still at your ear in hot breaths and playful whispers. “Sure, it doesn’t pay the same way being a sorcerer does, but I’m sure a girl like you’d be grateful for pretty clothes and a big house.”

Geto hummed in agreement, his hand sliding from your chin to cup your cheek – with hot breaths fanning your face making goosebumps spring to the surface – adding to the statement. “And a warm bed to sleep in at night.”

You let out a whimper then, with lips quivering. The atmosphere had changed – turned thick with something else, something suffocating – something that left you faint, both speechless and breathless – whilst you warily looked up into the dark set of eyes above you and shivered at the feel of the teeth behind you. 

“All in exchange for some cooking and cleaning,” Gojo murmured against your neck, pulling your body closer while it shook unsteadily between the two of them.

“Don’t forget the other thing….” Geto hinted beneath his breath, his lips brushing your silently parted ones with a smirk, savoring that terribly troubled look on your face with an amused one of his own.

“Right~ The other thing~” Gojo purred, also enjoying your faltering, liking the feel of your heartbeat quickening beneath his fingertips.

“What thing?” You asked weakly – warily – as though scared of the answer.

Gojo snickered while Geto answered. “I think it’s better we show you this one.”

You were on your back the next second – your wrists pinned beneath the strength of Gojo’s fists where he kneeled above your head – his black shades slipping down his nose as he stared down at you with his smile and eyes gleaming in a look you could only call crazy.

Geto was kneeling at your other end, still towering over you – with big hands spreading your thighs, holding them tight to keep you from kicking. 

Your mind hadn’t really processed the possibility yet – hadn’t really allowed it to sink in – but it was dawning on you now – rapidly – while watching the boy lift your skirt up passed your panties.

“Hey! Stop-” You squealed, trying to bring your knees together to hide yourself. But you seemed smaller than you’d ever felt now, on the ground beneath the two boys who just dwarfed you in comparison.

“Think of it as part of training.” Geto offered casually while shuffling closer – his hands holding you beneath the knees, keeping you spread. “As a housepet, you need to learn these things.”

“And if you’re still adamant about becoming a jujutsu sorcerer… this is a realistic field exercise too.” Gojo added, his eyes big and ice-blue, glowing with something that seemed to seize you by the throat as he stared down at the growing hysterics on your pretty face. “I mean, with a face like this, I’m sure both curse users and curses themselves would want a taste before killing you.”

Geto removed his jacket, casting it aside. “We just want to help prepare you for what’s out there.” He excused, leaning over you with hands running over your chest, undoing button after button while you squirmed.

“No, please-” You shook your head, eyes closed tight in a desperate wish to wake up – the initial disbelief of the situation quickly leaving you every second of feeling hands touching more and more of your naked skin.

You choked on it, never having felt fear quite like it – soon finding hot streams of tears rushing down your face where you struggled to find air.

“We wouldn't want you going out into the real world thinking everyone’s going to play nice with you like we have.” Geto mouthed – eyes thirsty while looking at your cleavage – his large hands cupping your tits over the bra, making you squeak.

“Stop-” You sobbed, but like always, both of them ignored you.

“I’m sorry to say it-” Gojo cut you off, bowing down closer until his eyes were but an inch away from your teary trembling ones. “But the real world doesn’t care about you the way we do and won’t protect you like we will.” 

Geto’s hands slipped beneath your skirt – his fingers carding into the fat of your hips, smoothly hooking his fingers onto the band of your panties before slowly beginning to peel them down your thighs. “This is for your own good.”

[desperate-gay]

Pent Up Energy

Alex Morgan x fem!reader

a/n: 100% based off the game last night

SMUT 18+

Beads of sweat roll down the side of your head from the exhaustion. Colombia has decided not to play cleanly, instead wanting to be as physical as possible and you were bearing the brunt of it. Only 20 minutes into the game you have gotten tackled at least 3 times, each moment being more brutal than the last.

Luckily, there hasn’t been too much conflict between anybody, but that’s until your thoughts are interrupted by a bunch of shouting. Looking over to the left, you see your girlfriend stepping in the face of a Colombian player as the rest of the visiting team tries to meddle in. You quickly rush over to stop Alex, noticing she’s getting more heated every moment.

Slipping your way through the multiple bodies, you place your hand on the forward’s chest, gently pushing her back. You try your best to defuse the situation, but she just ignores you and continues to yell at the player, earning her a yellow card from the ref.

When she notices your hand on her chest, she wipes it off while scoffing before walking away. Trinity notices and quirks an eyebrow towards you, but in response, all you do is take a deep breath and shrug.

After the halftime whistle blew, Alex stayed clear of you. Usually, you both pep each other up for the next half but instead, she stayed quiet and to herself until everyone was sent back onto the pitch. Horan pats you on the back, giving you a sympathetic smile before running over to her position.

The game never dims down with players all showing their fiery side, specifically Alex and Trinity. That ends up playing a part when they both end up getting subbed out at the seventy-second minute.

“You played well.” You whisper, brushing your hand against Alex’s passing body. She spares you a quick look before walking off and onto the bench. Sighing, you lean down to fix your socks and peek your head over to your girlfriend only to see her staring into space with a stoic look.

The rest of the game is grueling but rewarding as you have beaten Colombia and are advancing to the semifinals. After an hour or so you’re boarding onto the bus, taking an open seat and hoping for your girlfriend to join you. Sadly, when she gets on, she doesn’t even glance toward you and decides to sit several seats behind you.

Slightly frustrated with the brunette, you huff and drop your head back against the cushion of the headrest before being interrupted by a giddy smile. You can’t help but smile back at the sweet girl.

“Hi, Naomi.”

“Hey, what are you doing once we get back to the hotel?” She asks while readjusting herself and setting her bag down by her feet.

“Well, I was planning to see if I could room with Alex, but it doesn’t seem like she wants anything to do with me at the moment.” You send Naomi a weak smile which she returns with a sympathetic one.

“Nonsense, we all know Alex gets moody at times but never directly at you. I’m assigned to be her roommate so why don’t we switch? I heard you got Soph anyway.” The defender digs in her bag, pulling out a keycard and holding it out to you.

You wearily accept the card with a small thank you and give her yours in exchange. For the remainder of the ride, Naomi helps you cheer up with a few stories and jokes about her little hangouts with some of the team.

“Time to cheer up the monster.” You groan in which Naomi just laughs and offers you a hand to stand up.

“I believe in you. Go save your knight in shining armor.”

“More like my beast.” You grumble, receiving chuckles from some of the girls who have overheard, none of them being Alex, thankfully, as she is still getting off the bus.

Walking into the hotel, you make your way to your room and are met with your girlfriend soon after. You shyly glance at her and see her confused gaze.

“I thought I was roomed with Girma?” Alex frowns while you give her a look of slight discomfort.

“Umm, Naomi wanted to trade so she could room with Soph and I thought rooming with you would be nice. I could go switch it back if you want.” You whisper, slightly scared she doesn’t want you near her and your voice might betray you.

“No, just stay with me.” The girl mumbles, opening the door with her key and rushing in with her baggage.

Your eyes follow her movements like a lost puppy while you stand by the door. Alex takes in the silence and looks up at you, stopping her scavenging in her back.

“What?” She asks, looking at you with an annoyed expression. You swallow back your nerves before making your way over to the bed and getting everything that you need out of your bag and ready for the night.

The thick silence lasts for around twenty minutes before you begin to feel irritated. Alex is in the little kitchen, leaning against the counter and looking at her phone.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” You finally ask gently, trying your best to keep your growing frustration with the striker at bay.

“Nothing.” Her tone remains empty, clearly not wanting to open up.

“It has to be something. You’ve been avoiding me all day, along with being quiet.” You explain, walking over to her but still keeping a little bit of space between the two of you.

“I told you, I’m fine.”

“Alex, you did amazing out there today, we won 3-0 and we’re advancing. If it’s about the card-“

“It’s not about the fucking card!” Alex finally snaps, dropping her phone on the counter and looking at you with a fiery gaze, but it doesn’t tear you down.

“Then tell me what it’s about, please. I can’t have you concealing all this anger. It’s not fair to you or me.” You try, voice becoming more and more desperate.

“Just shut up,” Alex warns, clenching her jaw as her hands tighten on the counter while shifting her eyes away from you.

“I’m just trying to help-”

Your sentence is cut off when your girlfriend storms over to you and she reaches out, gripping your jaw while pinning you against the wall. You look up at her with wide eyes, taking in her appearance. Wet hair, red cheeks, a zip-up training kit covering her body, and blown pupils.

“I said to shut up.” She grits, her hand never leaving your face. Her eyes look down at your lips for a split second and you luckily notice.

Without warning, she smashes her lips onto yours in a harsh kiss. Nothing about it is sweet or romantic. Both your tongues and teeth clash together like you’re trying to see who can last longer to this roughness. The hand on your jaw leaves and finds a new place around your neck, controlling every movement of your head.

“God you’re so hot. You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to have you all to myself again.” The taller girl rasps against your lips before moving down to nip at your neck.

While she attacks your neck, you finally put two and two together. You realize Alex may have been aggravated by this game but all of her pent-up anger mainly resulted from a little sexual frustration. With the NWSL preseason starting and the Gold Cup, you both have been busy at training camp and too exhausted to even think about starting anything.

But with Alex, she needs an outlet after she’s played, which is mainly sex. She can finally have total control of something and that something being you. You’re at her total submission, allowing her to do whatever she wants to you and making you do whatever she wants to her.

Her lips disconnecting from your neck pulls you out of your thoughts. You look up at her with your doe eyes and watch as her tongue licks her lips while she eyes you up and down.

Soon her hands grip your waist and tug you over to the bed. She sits at the end of the mattress and leans back with her hands holding her up while you remain standing in front of her.

“Strip,” Alex demands, watching as you slowly grip the bottom of your shirt and cautiously pull it over your head. When she takes sight of what seems to be a new bra, she sits back up and grips your naked hips.

“If you need to use me, use me, Alex.” You say boldly, returning her lustful gaze. Her jaw almost drops before she quickly starts unbuttoning your jeans and yanking them down so you’re only in your bra and panties.

“Get on the bed.” When you don’t immediately do as she says, she pulls you down herself making you squeal in the process. “When I say to do something, you listen, got it?” You nod your head, earning you a satisfied grin.

Alex’s body hovers over you with her wet hair curtaining any view other than her face. You blindly reach down and tug on the zipper of her hoodie, asking if you can take it off. She swiftly sits up and removes all of her clothes, leaving her bare.

“I guess I should take these off you now, shouldn’t I?” She taunts, hooking her finger on the waistband of your panties and letting go of them with a sharp snap against your skin.

“Please, Alex. I need you.” You whine, bucking your hips closer to her hand. She chuckles before leaning down and kissing on your chest. Her hand reaches around your back and unclips your bra, letting it slide down a little before taking it off altogether.

Instead of moving down, her lips move up your neck and to your ear. “So beautiful, I can’t wait to have you trembling underneath my touch and screaming for me to let you cum.” Her breath fans against your ear while her breasts are smushed against yours. She tugs on your earlobe with her teeth before sitting back up, admiring your body.

“I bet you’re already wet for me even though I have barely touched you. You probably like me roughhousing you around to my pleasure. So obedient for me.” You moan as she carelessly speaks of you while trailing her finger down the center of your stomach.

“Alex, baby, I need you. I need you to touch me, please.” Your body squirms while she continues to trace her finger down to your core.

She finally dips her hand in and spreads your arousal around, completely lost in her head on how wet you are. Her finger teasingly dips into you but only for a split second, causing you to whine out.

“God, I’ve missed this pretty pussy so much.” Your girlfriend groans before angling her arm in an awkward manner and plunging two fingers into you.

Her body leans down so her lips can latch onto your breasts, leaving hickeys anywhere she pleases. Moans spew their way out of your mouth at the long-needed pleasure, but her thrusts are nowhere near fast enough to get you off, mainly because of the way her arm is angled, so you reach down with a huff and kick off your panties, leaving no restraint for Alex.

“Faster.” You pant, rolling your hips with each thrust of the forward’s hand. She chuckles and moves her arm lower so she can pump in and out of you at an ungodly pace.

“Is this what you want? Want to get fucked so hard you won’t be able to think properly, huh?” She questions without her fingers even stuttering. The loud wet noises of her thrusts echo throughout the hotel room along with your whimpers and moans.

Her finger reaches a point inside of you that has your head spinning. The build-up in your lower stomach becomes more apparent as your core tightens around your girlfriend’s digits.

“I’m gonna cum, baby.” You moan, digging your nails into her bicep, leaving dark crescent indents in her skin which she loves.

Suddenly, the pressure in your stomach subsides due to Alex pulling her fingers out, making you whine at the sudden emptiness.

“You’re not gonna cum that easily, sweets. I still have so much I want to do to you.” She says in an uncharacteristically sweet tone while placing a kiss on your cheek.

Both of her hands rub up and down your sides as she kisses from your sternum down to your thigh. She bites at the inside of your skin before soothing the sting with her tongue. Alex looks over and sees your hands clenching and unclenching the sheets below you while your breathing picks up in impatience.

“So beautiful.” She whispers against your thigh before pushing it open with her large hand and latching her mouth onto your core. She lets out a low groan at the taste of you while dipping her tongue into you.

Your hips twitch into her as her tongue laps around your clit, sucking and licking the swollen surface. Your girlfriend’s hands lay flat on your stomach as she pushes her head further into your wet heat. Subconsciously, your legs begin to close in on Alex’s head as the familiar knot in your stomach returns.

Just as your hips begin to rise to your release, the brunette once again detaches herself from you, making your orgasm fade away. Tears start to build up in your eyes in frustration from the denial, but Alex wipes them away with her thumb.

“It’s okay, baby. You’re doing so good for me.” She coos, placing a few pecks on your lips in reassurance. “Do you think you’ve been a good girl?” She asks, pulling you to sit up so you’re both facing each other.

“Yes, yes, I’ve been a good girl.” You nod, nuzzling your face into her neck for some sort of comfort.

“I think so too.” Alex brushes your hair behind your ear once you pull back to look at her. She grabs the back of your neck and brings you into an intoxicating kiss, roaming her tongue inside the roof of your mouth

Alex pulls you onto her lap without breaking the kiss, placing you onto her slanted thighs due to her sitting on her legs. You grind slowly against her, attempting to get some kind of friction as your chest presses up against hers. Your girlfriend smirks into the kiss, feeling your arousal smear across her skin.

She slips two digits back inside of you, curling them into your g-spot. A loud moan escapes your lips as your legs tighten around her waist, causing the heels of your feet to push into her back. Your hands also find their way to her shoulder blades, leaving dark red scratches as she pumps her fingers into you.

“Right there.” You gasp as Alex thrusts her fingers into the perfect spot. The bed frame pounds against the wall from your girlfriend’s digits bouncing in and out of you.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” She whispers into your ear, pressing a sweet kiss under it to your jaw. You quickly nod your head as your eyes squeeze shut with a loud moan, enticing the girl below you to thrust faster.

“I’m gonna, oh god, ‘m gonna cum, baby.”

“Cum for me.”

Your walls clamp around Alex’s fingers as a flow of juices runs down her hand while you moan in ecstasy, grinding down to push you through your orgasm.

Once your hips stop, she pulls her fingers out of you and places them in front of your mouth. You obediently open and suck, licking off all your arousal while swirling your tongue around them. She watches you with blown-out pupils and a slacked jaw.

“If you think we’re done after you just did that, you’re sorely mistaken.” Her arms wrap around her waist and slam you back onto the bed, making you giggle at her riled-up nature.

The next morning you make your way into the breakfast lobby with Alex’s arm around your waist. Right as everyone catches eye on the both of you, a bunch of whistling and whooping sounds through the room.

“Get it, Morgan. Didn’t know you could do all that.” Trinity cheers while smacking on her gum with a smirk.

Everyone gets their little comments in while your girlfriend just smiles smugly and continues to kiss your temple with her arm remaining on your shoulders. In your flustered state, all you do is hide your face into her neck and try to avoid all of the attention.

[celestie0]

𝗍𝗈𝗃𝗂 𝖿𝗎𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗎𝗋𝗈 𝗑 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 | 𝖽𝗋𝖺𝖻𝖻𝗅𝖾 [𝟣𝟪 +]

𝖽𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾

ᰔ 𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝗁𝗎𝗌𝖻𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗈𝗃𝗂 𝗑 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 (𝖿)

ᰔ 𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒. 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗉𝗎𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖾𝗀𝗎𝗆𝗂 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗅𝖾𝖾𝗉, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗈𝗃𝗂 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗌𝖾𝗅𝗏𝖾𝗌.

ᰔ 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌/𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗌. 𝟣𝟪+, 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖽 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿, 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍, 𝗎𝗇𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗑, 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗉𝗂𝖾, 𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖾𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗄, 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝗎𝗆 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒, 𝖽𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗒 𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗄, 𝖽𝖾𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇, 𝗉𝖾𝗍 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌, 𝖺𝗌𝗌-𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗁𝗈𝗍 𝖽𝗂𝗅𝖿 𝗍𝗈𝗃𝗂

ᰔ 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌. 𝟫𝟦𝟤 (𝗅𝗂𝗅 𝖽𝗋𝖺𝖻𝖻𝗅𝖾)

𝖺/𝗇. 𝗇𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗍𝗒 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝖾𝗉𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗌𝗍𝗂𝖼 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗈𝗃𝗂.

you and toji hardly have any moment to yourselves these days. by the time you’re finished cleaning up after dinner and toji’s done feeding megumi his dino chicken nuggets before eventually getting him to sleep, you’re both exhausted and can barely make it through the bedtime routine before falling limp onto your shared bed. it had been maybe longer than a week since you’ve both had any sort of intimacy, but tonight it seemed like the two of you had a little bit of energy to spare.

“mmmph…” you moan, hand gripping at the fabric of toji’s shirt. you were on top of him, lazily laying with your cheek pressed to his clothed chest, as he’s thrusting his hips up and fucking you agonizingly slowly with his strong hands grabbing at the flesh of your ass. he had your panties pulled to the side and silk nightgown bunched up over your hips. “love it…love it, toji…” you’re drawling, head tucked into the crook of his neck, his chin resting on top.

you feel his chest rumble with a noise. “yeah? really missed…fucking your tight little cunt, baby,” he’s groaning, giving you a firm pinch to the side of your hip that makes you gasp. you’re practically drooling on his chest, causing a damp spot on his shirt that’s soaking through to his skin. “wish i could just use you like this all day long. my little fuck doll.”

“mm you can...you can use me like this all day long,” you’re mumbling the permission, moving your hips to get some speed on toji’s thrusts but he draws his hand back and gives you a harsh slap to your ass.

“calm down. and i can’t, since you’re always so fuckin’ busy with megumi during the day,” he grumbles as he lifts your hips up so he’s almost entirely out of you, save for the tip, and then slowly pushes you back down onto him again. you’re almost crying.

“toji…cum in me. cum in me please,” you’re begging, grasping at his shirt until it’s wrinkled and ruined, trying to wiggle your hips free of his harsh grasp so you can bounce on him but he won’t budge.

“anytime i’m in you, it’s always ‘cum in me cum in me’ right away. when'd you get so impatient?” he starts to shallowly pump into you. “let me just fuck you for a damn minute,” he’s groaning, “needy little whore.”

you gasp, lifting your head up to look at him with narrowed eyes, and slap at his chest. “don’t call me that.” you hated when he called you a whore. slut was fine, but whore made your skin crawl.

his chest rumbles with a deep chuckle. “but isn’t that what you are? look at yourself, droolin’ all over me like a puppy. i’m hardly doing anything.”

you moan when he wraps his arms around your waist and starts to fuck upwards more decisively. “god, toji…d-doesn’t matter, mhh, i'm not a...whore.” you fall limp on top of him again, shamelessly doing no work at all in pursuit of your own pleasure as he lazily fucks you with no urgency.

“whatever you say, sweet thing,” he says and presses a kiss to the crown of your head when he hears you whimper. 

“t-toji…” you’re moaning, “will you give me another baby?” 

he lets out a confused huh? in-between his grunting and groaning as he pumps into you faster. “the fuck do you mean, ‘another baby’? the fact i’m fuckin’ you right now is a god given miracle considering that brat’s somehow sleeping through the night so far.” he slows down his pace again, making you squirm in his hold. “and yet you wanna have another one?”

you nod and look up at him from his chest. he looks down at you, his face strained from the pleasure but there’s a softness in his eyes. “mm…yea, i want more babies, toji.” you look at him with a helpless pout as you reach a hand up to cup his face. “put a baby in me. please?”

he’s groaning and you feel him twitch inside of you, his head falling back onto the pillow as his arms that were wrapped around your waist hold you to him even closer and he starts fucking up into you relentlessly. you cover your mouth with your hand to muffle your moans and vaguely register the profanities falling from his mouth until he’s shaking underneath you and his thrusts turn sloppy when you feel his warm cum spilling into you. you gasp from each harsh jut of his hips, and then he’s coming down from the high and breathing heavily. your upper body rises with his chest from every deep breath he takes as you lay on him.

“fuck…” he says it like he’s surprised. “don’t ever beg for me to put a baby in you ever again, unless you’re looking to raise a damn village. i don’t have that kind of self control.”

you smile up at him and give him a kiss on his chin, noticing his stubble. “flip me over please, hafta keep your cum in me for a bit.”

“shhh” he’s hissing at you, his mind going insane at the thought, then flipping you over and pulling out of you. and then there’s a quiet & gentle knock at the door. you both widen your eyes at each other before toji’s hiding you underneath the sheets and pulling his pajama pants up just in time for when the door cracks open, megumi’s little arm stretched up to reach the door handle as he stands at the entrance with his stuffed animal clutched in his other arm.

“daddy, i frew up.”

-------

𝖺/𝗇. 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒𝖾𝖽! 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗉𝗁𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝗂𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗒𝗉𝗈𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗅.

[silkythewriter]

Hi! It’s the anon who asked the cat demon headcanons, (which I loved btw <3) And you asked, so I deliver! Here’s another request, although, please remember that you don’t have to do this and remember to take breaks ^^ Could you possibly, mayhaps do another Vox x reader? Where the reader is a HUGE extrovert, like they just randomly show up in front of his house at 3:00 am with McDonald’s in hand just because they didn’t wanna be alone at night or something like that? Headcanons is fine! :D

Vox with an extroverted reader!♡´･ᴗ･`♡

Warnings!: Non! Just our silly lil tv demon <3

Fandom!: Hazbin hotel

Author note!: AHHH HI HI IM SO HAPPY FOR YOUR HAZBIN HOTEL ASKS THEY MOTIVATE ME TO WRITE SO MUCH AHHH TY SM FOR THE NEW REQUEST (also Vox is my fav lil silly guy I love writing for him ̋(๑˃́ꇴ˂̀๑) )

Summary!: Vox with an extroverted reader!

❤️Written by silkythewriter Do not steal or repost on any other platform please! <3.❤️

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“(Where is my friend Smiley?) Your name is definitely Smiley!”

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!📺✨Vox✨📺!

OKAY SO HEAR ME OUT ON THIS, this man is not an extrovert per say, he is just very good at making people like him. Like look he much rather be working to gain more power then chit chat but he would do it to gain favors.

Like I said with my last post he’s very good at using his words to make people side with him. Now I wouldn’t say he’s a man of few words, definitely not. But he has a persona he wears in social interactions.

After a long day of just running his new channel/show, he honestly has zero energy, this man is exhausted after talking all day long to the citizens of hell. And making business deals upon business deals.

But with that being said he finds it re energizing to be around you. Maybe it’s the care free attitude you have, or maybe the pure excitement on your face when he opens the door at 3AM.

When he opens the door and sees you with a big ol’ grin on your face as you clutch a big bag of food with one hand and another big bag stuffed to the brim with your personal items in the other hand you can imagine his confusion

Either way he opens the door slightly to let you march in before you quickly put everything down and plopped down on his couch.

And after that it honestly just became a daily occurrence

At first he was a bit confused and overall just questioning why you were here at 3am of all times.

And if you ask if he minds of course he’ll say yes! He’s tired! Not like he finds it nice to be in your company or anything

No but really he probably to tired to protest half of the time so he just takes a seat next to you and starts digging in to whatever you bought.

Also he always blushes at how you always get his order right and knows what he likes…but he always turns away before you could sneak in a glance!

I’m all serious having you as company on lonely nights is quite literally a after live saver for him. Having you to talk to about anything and everything you both find interesting is wayyyyy more better then having Val or velvet screeching in his ear about something!.

After the first few times of this happening he always made sure to lay out extra blankets and pillows on the couch just for you two.

Now as for your personality he honestly finds it very energizing! Look he’s use to carrying the conversation (which he doesn’t mind) but it’s nice having someone else take the lead for a bit!

I will say he knows you aren’t naive or anything per say, but he can’t help be a bit over protective of you and your happy energy. And trust me he doesn’t mind getting his hands a bit dirty if someone tells you to water yourself down (￣ ^ ￣💧)…

He gives you a spare key so you could just waltz’s in whenever you wanted to be honest!

He finds it nice to cuddle on the couch and talk with you till you both pass out, and surprisingly it’s recharges his social battery!

After awhile the rolls might reverse with him now asking if you want to come over at late Hours if the night (๑>ᴗ<๑)

And even on the rare chance he has time in the mornings or evenings to hang out with you he always makes sure no one can disturb you guys. He has everything on silent even his inner notifications. And if they ask he just says he was glitching out ( =ω= )

The amount of shows you guys binge watch in one night is actually foul… like a 5 hour series done and completed in tops 2 hours. What black magic you guys use don’t ask me….!

If you end up asleep mid way one of the shows before him he will pick you up and take you to bed. He’ll make sure to put the AC full blast before covering you in blankets before hopping in himself. Now if he’ll admit this in the morning is a 50/50 chance

He only tolerates you doing this, anyone else and he’d be annoyed and just electrocute them out.

If you ever go to the three V’s building he honestly isn’t surprised with how you get along with almost everyone.

He dose a get a bit jelly at times when it come to you chit chatting with a whole bunch of people.

But in the end of the day he knows that’s just how you are and as long as you reassure him he’s your favorite hes fine with it.

If he hears anyone talk behind your back about your personality best believe they won’t be found any time soon.

You guys are always talking over socials honestly especially mid day when it’s busy but he just wants to talk to you! It helps him save the little sanity and patience he has with the people he’s surrounded by(￣▽￣)💦.

Overall you help him cope after a long day and you never fail to make him smile!, and having someone to just goof around with and not needing to put on his business persona, is funny enough, a god send. He loves you very much!, and is thankful for whatever good deed he did when he was alive that earned him you.

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HELLO HELLO!!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THE REQUEST, PHEW THAT WAS ALOT BUT I LOVED WRITING IT SM!!!!! Vox is my favorite character personally! He’s so silly <3

BUT AGAIN TY FOR REQUESTING I LOVED IT SO MUCH IT WAS SO MUCH FUN PLEASE REQUEST AGAIN WHENEVER!!! Ｏ(≧▽≦)Ｏ

[soap-ify]

Ghost x reader with really bad nightmares like so bad that ghost has to find em somewhere and then has to calm em and sometimes it's so bad they just throw up

SIMON WOULD BE SO CARING AA :( especially since he out of everyone knows how awful nightmares can be.

cw nightmares, brief mentions of throwing up, anxiety.

your nightmares have been getting severe lately, leaving you flinching awake in the middle of the night, gasping for air while you were drenched in sweat, feeling suffocated and trapped in your own sheets.

today was a similar night, your eyes staring at the ceiling in daze while your heartbeat was loud and rapid since you had just woken up from another nightmare. with a shaky hand, you’d grab your phone and search for someone’s contact number — simon. he had told, no, ordered you to call him as soon as you’d get another nightmare ever since you vented to him about how you’ve been struggling lately. you were surprised by his sudden determination that day, but you felt warm too knowing that someone was willing to provide you some sort of comfort.

“what?” his gruff voice said in the call once he picked his phone up, his tone evidently showing how he wasn’t sleeping at all, probably just passing some time around or doing some paperwork.

“i-i…” your voice cracked, quivering while your hand shakily held onto your phone. “i had a nightmare, si. s-sorry if i’m disturbing you…” you whispered into your phone, feeling unsure if he would be willing to come this late at night despite his own words the other day.

a few seconds of silence passed by before simon finally answered.

“i’m comin’, love. hang in there.”

and with that, he hung the call.

it didn’t take long for him to arrive at your place, unlocking the door with a spare key he had. he didn’t want to waste time knocking on the door and wait for you to open it, especially since you were all drained out of energy and badly shaken up.

he carefully made his way inside and locked the door securely again before entering your bedroom, finding you laying on your bed, struggling to properly focus on regulating your breathing.

“love…” his warm, husky voice called out, causing you to snap out of your overwhelming thoughts and tilt your head up to look over at him.

“s-simon…” you sniffled, teary eyes filling up with even more tears before some begin to slide down your cheeks, an achy relief taking over your heart. you were about to say something, though a nauseous was quick to interrupt your voice, your hand quick to cover your mouth.

simon wasted no time in walking over to your, callused hands gently grabbing your sides to help you off the bed before you clumsily made your way over to your bathroom, kneeling down in front of the toilet.

he stood against the doorframe while you gagged and threw up, tears running down your cheeks while you were visibly struggling, causing him to slowly kneel beside you and move your hair out of your face, helping you.

once he had gotten you all cleaned up, his strong arms pulled you in a tight embrace, gently moving you back into the bedroom and setting you down on your bed. he even got you a glass of cold water, watching you hold it with trembling hands while you managed to chug it down.

“s’getting too bad, si… don’t wanna deal with ‘em anymore…” you weakly mumbled after putting the glass on your nightstand, looking up at him with exhausted eyes.

simon sighed softly and nodded, understanding your pain all too well. of anything, he was the one who could relate to you — nights full of nightmares and nausea, anxious thoughts that kept scratching onto one’s skin.

“i’m here now.” he whispered softly and got on the bed besides you, slowly pulling you towards him, your head resting on his broad chest, the sound of his heartbeat soothing your nerves while his other hand yanked his mask off his face, tossing it aside. “you’re safe, love. i promise.” his usually cold, emotionless voice was now laced with warmth that could only be directed at you, reserved only for you. one hand of his gently caressed your lower back while his other gave the back of your head gentle pats, coaxing you back into sleep.

your cries had subsided by now, reduced to soft sniffles as your body curled up into his as exhaustion took over you once more, clinging onto him tight — as if wanting to hide away from the world and just stay in his arms forever, and he’d let you if he could.

[axeoverblade]

Hello 👋🏻 your writting is so amazing! if its not too much to ask, would i be able to request a earth 42 miles thats slightly aggressive and a bit of a delusional yandere with the phrases 15 & 16. Totally fine if not! 👍🏻

Stuck

Earth 42! Miles x fem! reader

Synopsis! As much as you loved Miles, you couldn’t be stuck in the house any longer.

MASTERLIST

Genre: Angst(?), toxic! Miles, yandere activities.

Warnings: mentions of manipulation and lowkey abusive behavior, nothing crazy. Foul language

Word count: .9k

Authors comment: Toxic is cute on paper not irl. Blurb.

Do not copy! All rights reserved to ©axeoverblade

The room was silent. The tension felt thicker than the blood coming from your lip you bit too hard in attempt to compose yourself.

“I’m not playing with you ma. You need’a relax on allat’”, Miles spat, not sparing you a glance as he sat in his desk chair lacing up the Jordan’s he sported for his prowler “job”. You rolled your eyes, upset with how he was responding to you. He had been talking to you like this a lot lately, dismissing you without a second thought. And frankly, you were tired of it. “You can’t keep me here” you seethed, standing up from where you sat his bed. He furrowed eyebrows finishing the double not of his lace, standing up to match your energy. “Oh for real? How much you wanna’ bet?” He cocked his head at you, tone stern.

All you wanted was one night out. One single night.

The number of occasions your friends had invited you out only for you to say “Oh I can’t tonight” knowing good and well you had nothing planned had become exhausting. But Miles thought it was safer for you in the room than outside.

“Siéntate mami, Im not playin witchu’ today.” He said swiping his hand over the lower portion of his face stressed, letting out a deep exhale. His eyes unwavering in his gaze.

You don’t know how it got to this.

It used to be different, you used to enjoy your time with Miles. It wasn’t that you didn’t love Miles anymore, you don’t think you were ever capable of stopping loving Miles. But the longer you were in a relationship with the boy you had grown so fond of, the more overbearing he became.

The amount of friends who would tell you how dangerous Miles was, who you ignored or just randomly stopped hearing from had become too many. You should’ve listened. You really should’ve.

You should’ve seen the signs. The signs to leave as soon as possible, to run without looking back. But being the stupid love struck teen you were you saw the things he did as endearing, only fueling your attraction to him.

It started with him becoming over protective, asking for the logins to your social media and knowing your phone password, having his face ID linked to your phone.

Then your male friends became a problem. He made you drop them, saying it was “them or him since you want em’ so damn bad.”.

He stopped letting you wear certain things, saying too many guys would see and you were for his eyes only.

Then he stopped letting you go to functions alone, convincing you Brooklyn was “too dangerous for you to be out by yourself”. And after being on duty as the prowler seeing you go to the store by yourself for a quick snack, where he ended up having to kill a guy who tried to mug you, he stopped letting you go out at all together.

Anywhere.

“Miles you can’t keep doing this” your voice was strong, trying your best to sound as confident as possible under his intense gaze. “Stop doing what? Keeping you safe? You're crazy if you think that’s happening.” He stepped closer to you. “So just sit down-” “I’m not sitting down Miles. So stop suggestin’ it.” You raised your voice standing your ground. Miles chuckled and cocked his head back, but you both knew there was nothing funny about what was going on. “It wasn’t a suggestion. Sit yo’ ass down before I make you.” You looked at him like he grew three heads,“Who are you my father? What you gon’ do?” You mocked, cocking your head to the side.

Before you had time to think, his hands grabbed at the small of your waist and forcefully sat you on the bed. “Ion know why you think I’m joking right now.” He scoffed, hands still on your waist. “You’re gettin’ on my last nerve right now and I gotta go and handle business”. You scoffed, “You mean the prowler business with your uncle? The one where you go out and slaughter people in your free time?” You remarked snidely, throwing his hands off your waist. Though much of stretch, you figured it would get under his skin. “ don’t do that. You know if we aren’t helping the community no one will.” He paused angrily. “ You know I do this for you Y/n!” He yelled as he stood up fully looking down at you. “For you and mi mama. Eres mi corazón, you keep me alive. I make sure the streets are safe so nothing bad happens for you! I protect you the both of you every damn day, don’t act like you don’t see that.” He pointed his finger accusingly at you, his voice becoming louder the more he talked.

You looked away from him and shook your head, “I never asked you to do that. Don’t blame me for this” your voice ran quiet, barely audible. “I’m not-” he paused and sighed, putting his finger under your chin firmly, guiding you head to look at him. “I ain’ blaming this on you ángel, I’m trying to explain to you since you wanna’ act dumb.” His face was scrunched together, clearly fed up with the argument at hand. “Miles, you think it’s healthy to stay inside for three weeks straight? What am I supposed to do huh?” You scoffed, throwing your arms around. “It’s better than being dead.” He replied letting go of your chin harshly, walking over to the window not even trying to understand from your perspective.

He opened the window, the cool breeze from the night washing in over the room. He looked at you and sighed, “Listen. I know you fed up ma, but you need to understand something.” He paused, climbing out the window. He stuck his head back in and looked at your sitting figure on his bed before closing the window.

“You ain’ goin anywhere.”

©axeoverblade

[oakdaddypreserveme]

halsin x briar

warnings: smut, vaginal fingering, p in v sex, daddy kink

i did not edit this

summary: briar gets hurt and halsin helps her

minors dni

another day of going through the wretched shadow cursed lands. though they had been fighting the undead that haunted the area for days, briar reckoned that she would never get used to them.

the latest scrap had left her with a scratch and more than a few bruises. it hurt more than she let on when shadowheart first enquired about her condition. this place was dangerous and briar couldn’t afford to let her weakness slip in front of her party. as their leader, they needed to see her as a pillar of strength and briar knew that shadowheart was out of spells for the day, just as she herself was.

so when the glow of their camp’s fire could be seen in the distance, briar was more than overjoyed. there she knew gale was waiting with a meal, and astarion was waiting to give her comfort.

and halsin was waiting to tend to her wounds.

ever since she’d freed him from the goblin camp, she had to admit that there was an undeniable chemistry between them. on their journey he’d mentored her about being a druid, especially as she was fairly new to being one before the tadpole got stuck in her brain. oftentimes they would walk through the forest as he showed her the bounty of the oakfather’s gifts. they meditated together in the stillness of the evenings.

when he guided her hand to feel nature around her it seemed that it lingered. when he encouraged her to close her eyes and take in the forest, she felt his breath on her neck. it was enough to make her ache.

but he’d made it clear that the shadowcurse was his priority when they’d celebrated with the tieflings. they’d had plenty of moments since then but briar was certain he wouldn’t act.

so when she walked into halsin’s tent, bruised and battered and in pain, it melted away immediately when their gazes met. for a moment it was as though they weren’t in the shadow cursed lands anymore. for a moment, it was just the two of them.

“you’re hurt,” he said after a pause. he stood up and approached her with a worried eyes and eyebrows knitted in concern.

“a scratch is all,” briar said noncommittally. “shadowheart and i don’t have spells left. could you spare any?”

“of course,” he said. “but this looks like more than a mere scratch, briar. what happened out there?”

she chewed her lip. “we were ambushed on the way out of the gauntlet of shar. shadows and undead. i transformed into a bear to get them all once we got over our surprise. it won’t happen again.”

briar didn’t tell him that she barely had the energy to shift in the first place. that she was exhausted. but he took one look at her and it was like he knew.

“these lands are treacherous, little one. you don’t have to take on the burden of navigating them alone.”

“i don’t—”

he shook his head. “i understand that you need to be strong in front of the others. they rely on you; you are their light in a near hopeless darkness. but i am not them. you don’t have to be strong around me.”

briar laughed humourlessly. “you would say that.”

halsin looked at her steadily. “at the grove the other druids looked to me for strength in the same way a pride of lions looks to their own leader. but i had no one who could be strong for me when i needed it most. at least, not until you saved me from the goblins. so i ask this of you: let me repay the favour.”

it took a moment to realise just how close he was. his soft breaths fanned across her face. his l skin radiated warmth upon her own. briar sucked in a shaky breath as he grabbed her hand. he still had such an effect on her.

“i’m exhausted,” she admitted in a small voice. “i could barely transform into a bear when it counted, and we only just managed to stave off the undead. gods, halsin, what would have happened to everyone here if i’d made a mistake? to thaniel and oliver?”

he pulled her into a hug and she felt safe in his strong arms. “let it out.”

briar didn’t realise she was trembling until he steadied her. she processed her emotions as best she could as halsin comforted her. she truly didn’t realise that she had been hanging on by a thread this whole time and all it took for her to come crumbling was his kind reassurance.

after a moment halsin released briar and she found that she immediately missed the way his arms felt around her. when he gestured her to sit on his bedroll, she complied.

briar sat and he rummaged around his belongings before finding some bandages and ointment. then he looked at her.

“now, where does it hurt?”

briar gestured to her mid section and there the archdruid rested his hand atop her armour before he looked at her. she nodded her consent and he lifted the top to reveal her midsection.

“silvanus’s tears, briar. this…”

her dark, freckled skin was littered with bruises, while scratches made a tapestry of her. she hissed he placed his hand on one of her many lesions.

“this will hurt but a moment, little one,” he said.

she nodded and gasped as he cast lay on hands. it stung, but eventually the feeling melted away and was replaced with a cool warmth. she found herself relaxing under his touch as she closed her eyes allowing the spell to tingle through her body.

“good girl,” he said softly. “that’s it.”

briar moaned softly at the praise, forgetting herself, but the moment she heard it coming out of her mouth it clamped shut and her eyes whipped open.

halsin’s movements stilled at the sound and he looked at her.

“gods, halsin, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to—”

“i thought you were with astarion.”

the two of them spoke at the same time and briar felt herself getting warm.

“i am…” she started. “but we’ve discussed…my nature as a wood elf. he’s accepting of me, and gave me his blessing to be with you if it ever came to that.”

“how generous of him,” he said softly. “so accepting of our culture.”

“he’s full of surprises,” briar said fondly. “but you need to focus on the shadow curse—”

“i’ve done all i can on my end with thaniel and oliver reunited, thanks to you of course.”

briar felt herself warm at his words. “it was nothing.”

he leaned in. “finding art’s lute? keeping the shadows at bay while i entered the shadowfell? finding oliver and convincing him to stay? you sell yourself short, little one. i could not have done any of it without you.”

the praises shot through her.

“in truth, i’ve admired you the moment you saved me from the goblins,” halsin said, his voice barely above a whisper. “i had my duty to liberate these lands from the curse, and i thought your bond with astarion would prevent anything from happening between us regardless. but i would be lying if i said i enjoyed our lessons together for more selfish reasons. any excuse i could have to touch you, to be near you…

“i’ve lived a long time, briar. i’ve taken many lovers. my heart does not stir lightly. but it does now.”

he placed his hand on her cheek and she leaned into the touch.

“i cannot express how much i’ve wanted you. if you would have me.”

his words were pure poetry, something the wood elf had no experience in. they flowed like water, sang like the melody of the forest. it was a wonder how she’d made it this far at all without getting charmed by the way he composed his words.

“i’m right here.” her voice was breathless as she responded and before she knew it, halsin’s lips were on hers.

briar moaned into the kiss as his hands trailed up her sides. the remnants of the spell tingled through her as he brought her closer to him, creating a delicious sensation wherever he touched.

his tongue prodded her lips and she welcomed him in, relishing the how he explored her crevice. she shivered at the sensation of him brushing her gums, which earned a smile from the archdruid.

the way he felt under her hands, so firm and warm and safe, awoke something in her. where with astarion she felt protective, with halsin she wanted nothing more than to let him have his way with her. to be whatever it was he wanted her to be. to let nature at its most primal take over.

briar bit halsin’s lip and he growled as he grabbed her hips and pulled them to his. his excitement became very apparent against her.

“poking the bear, are we?” he asked between kisses. his tone was almost feral and she relished the way he sounded. being the reason that the usually calm archdruid lost control filled her with some kind of pride. “you’re playing a dangerous game, little one.”

“from where i’m standing, it seems the bear is poking me,” she snarked and she felt him smile against her lips before he moved down to her neck. she moaned softly as he gently sucked an area that made her go wild.

afraid others would hear, briar muffled the sounds she was making with her hand. she heard halsin chuckle against her. “good girl. we wouldn’t want anyone else hearing us.”

she whimpered at his words and halsin pulled back. “it seems you enjoy when i call you that…or when i give you any sort of praise in general.”

she felt herself get warm under his gaze and couldn’t help but look away to avoid it. “i…i like it.”

a delectable smile graced halsin’s lips and he leaned into her neck to kiss it again. “you like being told how good you are for me?” he murmured against her skin. “to be told you’ve done well? to be told that you’re my good girl?”

“hells, halsin,” briar whispered. “i need you.”

he kissed her with more fervor, guiding her down so that she lying comfortably on her bedroll with his form enveloping her. halsin was large and everywhere, with his hands on her breasts, gently tugging at her nipples.

“the noises you make,” halsin whispered, his eyes glowing gold as his hands travelled lower. “gods, briar. i can’t wait to taste you on my tongue. to feel your thighs on my face like a vice. to have your walls clench around me as you cum. you have no idea how long i’ve wanted you under me, the amount of times i’ve rubbed my cock at the thought of you taking every inch of me. of marking you with my bites and having everyone at camp see them the next morning, of staking my claim—”

halsin stopped abruptly as his hands glided against her underwear . a shudder rocked through him as his eyes slid closed and he nuzzled her freckled neck.

“oak father, preserve me,” he moaned against her dark skin, his voice absolutely shattered. “you’re so wet, little one. i’ve barely touched you.”

“i can’t help it,” she responded. “you have such a way with words.”

he chuckled. “talking isn’t the only thing this mouth can do, you know.”

he moved lower, kissing every scratch and bruise on her torso like an act of worship. taking a breast into his mouth, he suckled it while the finger that was circling her drenched underwear teased her folds. briar gasped, her back arching as a soft moan escaped her lips before she watched him tear off her underwear with a growl.

“white panties on a body like yours should be considered sinful,” he muttered before tasting her on his fingers. he groaned when her taste coated his tongue and he took a deep breath as if to compose himself. “not even the sweetest honey can compare to your nectar, briar. i want to drown myself in your scent. to lose myself in you completely. i’m going to absolutely devour you.”

“is that a promise?” she asked and she gasped when he grazed her clit in response.

"you'll be the death of me," he groaned. he placed his forehead on hers and looked deep into her olive green eyes. “if that’s how you want it, we’ll need a safeword,” he murmured, tracing her jawline affectionately with his knuckles. “something you’d never say during sex.”

briar thought for a moment, noting that though his tone was soft, his intention was incredibly serious. this wasn't something that she should take lightly. “drider?”

halsin paused his movements and looked at her as he considered her suggestion before accepting it with a nod. “that’s good enough. say it out loud for me.”

“drider,” she repeated with more conviction and the older elf smiled and kissed her.

“good girl. if things get too much for you, just use that word, alright?”

“you underestimate my abilities, master halsin.”

he raised a cheeky eyebrow before plunging two of his fingers into her. “you’re going to be the death of me.”

briar opened her mouth to retort but just then halsin sent a delicious thrust of his fingers along her walls which caused her to gasp. “fuck.”

“that’s the idea,” he responded before setting a slow, teasing pace. “i'm going to taste you, but first i need to see you cum on my fingers. i need to know how you look like when i do this to you.”

though his fingers felt delicious, the pace was agonisingly slow. briar bit her lip and gasped as she closed her eyes, but her chin was grabbed suddenly which made her whip them open again.

"don't close your eyes," he said firmly. "i need to see you."

briar mewled but nodded her head, focusing on the sensation of his fingers dragging along her walls as she made eye contact with him. it felt divine, almost sinful to feel this good from such a simple movement.

though slow, the pressure began to build inside of her, trickling through her. she tried to form words between gasps around her swollen lips but was too drunk on the feeling to be able to be coherent.

"what is it, lover? use your words," he said before giving her a particularly hard thrust that made her see stars.

he knew what he was doing if the way he was smirking at her was of any indication.

"mmm...~ how m'i s'pose t'say anything if you tease me like this?" she asked between breaths, breasts heaving at another particularly hard thrust.

"hm?" he hummed. "i don't know what you mean."

"fucker," briar said without bite.

"i will be, in a moment," he promised before kissing her full lips again. "now, what was it you actually wanted to say, hm?"

she gasped again as he suckled on her neck once more and felt his teeth graze against her skin. "more."

he let out a soft, teasing breath and she knew he was chuckling. "you'll have to do better than that, briar."

"how do you mean?"

he looked her square in the eye, not for a moment pausing his ministrations. "i'm not in the business of giving in to those without manners. ask nicely."

his words cut through her. briar was never one to demean herself so easily, to give in so readily. but the way he had her in the palm of his hand, the way he got her teetering on the edge so easily...gods it did things to her. she found it easy to submit to him in that moment, to want to submit to him. to want to trust him with her whole being.

though, she didn't want him to know he won so quickly. like a child she let out a petulant hmph and said, "make me."

he paused his movements and regarded her steadily. there was a look in his gaze that was foreign to her. yes, it was still somewhat soft but there was a whisper of something darker lying underneath his eyes.

she shivered as he completely disengaged from her, leaving her cunt aching with emptiness as it tried desperately to squeeze the fingers that had left it. halsin grabbed her hands and pinned them above her, and she squirmed under his intense stare. a new pool of wetness leaked out of her as she saw his eyes flash gold.

"i'll let that slide for now because this is our first time together and you're injured," he said gently. "but if that's the kind of game you want to play i promise i can be a lot less accommodating."

his tone shot through her. she had no idea that she would enjoy being reprimanded like this. being the subject of his present ire only made her want to misbehave more.

"silvanus's breath," she muttered.

he shook his head with a smirk. "that's not the name you should be calling out when i'm having my way with you."

"oh?" she asked with her own smile. "what would you prefer? 'master halsin'?"

he cringed. "i'd prefer not."

briar smiled wickedly. "daddy?."

he froze and let out a deep breath. "you're playing with fire, little one."

"even forests get burned as nature takes it course."

halsin's grip on her hands tightened. "i was going to treat your body like an altar. i was going to taste you until you saw stars. i was going to worship you so thoroughly sune herself would be envious. but now..." he brought her leg to wrap around his hip as he slotted himself between her legs. briar felt his bulge nudge against her engorged clit and she moaned. "...i see you don't want that. at least, not tonight."

"and what do i want? enlighten me."

he growled lowly. "you want to be fucked. to be used as my plaything. to be so utterly wrecked that you forget your own name. did i get that right?" his voice had dropped an octave and she bit her lip at the promise.

"gods, yes."

"yes what?"

"yes, daddy."

"good girl."

he smiled and kissed her gently before look her in the eyes once more. they were soft, and inherently she knew he was asking if she wanted him to continue. "i'll be rough. what's your safeword?"

"drider."

he nodded before unbuckling his trousers and finally, finally, setting his glorious cock free. immediately briar's mouth watered, and halsin must have noticed her lick her lips because he laughed.

“i’ll use your mouth another time. perhaps even later tonight. but right now…” he teased her entrance with this tip. “i’m going to have my way with you, little one.”

briar struggled with her pinned arms.

“since you asked for more earlier, that’s what i’ll give you. however, because you’d forgotten your manners, you don’t get to cum until i say so. is that clear?”

“what? wait that’s not fair—”

“i didn’t ask if it was fair, i asked if i was clear,” he interrupted.

she genuinely didn’t know if she could do it, but she trusted halsin enough to know her limits so she nodded.

“the safeword is always an option,” he reminded gently. then more firmly he asked, “am i clear?”

“yes daddy.”

“good.”

slowly he began to sheathe his cock into her and the stretch burned but in the best way. she realised that he had been preparing her earlier, opening her up as much as he could and she was grateful.

“i’m halfway in,” he said gently and her eyes shot up. only halfway? gods she could die on his cock. it was better than dying by tadpole, that was for sure. what a way to go.

when he finally slotted himself into her fully, her legs trembled uncontrollably. she had to take a few long breaths as it grazed a sensitive part inside her that made her see stars. “ahhhh, halsin wait. if you move i think i’ll cum.”

“already?” he asked and when she nodded he swore under his breath. “oak father, preserve me.”

it took a moment for the intense feeling to subside and for her to nod the okay.

he began thrusting at a steady pace, slowly at first to get her used to his length. he reached down and flicked her clit which made her arch her back from how good it felt. his hips snapped into her which sent her soaring and she felt herself trembling again.

his forehead was laced with concentration as his eyebrows stitched together. sweat beaded all over his body as his muscles rippled.

briar struggled against his arm as all she wanted to do was touch him. she needed to feel his skin under her own but gods he was strong.

“halsin,” she said, closing her eyes. “please. need to touch you,”

once again he grabbed her chin and made her look at him. “what did i say, briar? as soon as you learn one rule you forget another one.”

“m sorry halsin it just feels so nice,” she said.

he tutted and increased his pace. “you learned your manners at least. as for touching me,” he rubbed her clit again, “if you can promise you can be a good girl for me, i’ll let you go.”

“yes, i promise to be good. please let me touch you.”

he loosened his grip and gave one of her hands a light kiss. “the way you beg could turn the most hardened of hearts.”

“thank you,” she said, at both the compliment and him allowing her to touch him.

their fingers interlocked as her other hand explored his torso. it was damp with sweat and rippled as he fucked into her.

the string in her was tightening once more as he carried on. the way he looked at her as she panted and gasped was almost with reverence as she fought to stave off the orgasm.

“i’m so close,” she warned.

he slowed immediately, taking his hand off her clit and leaned in to kiss her. “good girl. i didn’t even ask you to tell me.”

she whimpered into the kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck, not wanting him move away from her. briar pulled his hair when he thrust deeply and he moaned, swearing under his breath when her nails dug into his back and scratched him as she arched into him.

emboldened, halsin lifted her hips so his thrusts could reach deeper inside and briar screamed at the sudden change in angle.

“how does it feel, briar?” he asked softly.

“you’re reaching all the deepest parts of me,” she managed. “it’s like i can’t get enough.”

“if you can still speak so coherently, maybe i’m not doing as thorough a job,” he said before picking up the pace again.

he was rough, and briar knew she would ache for days to come but she didn’t care. she craved him like sun craves the west.

he left bites and marks all over her body to pair with her earlier bruises. she sobbed from how good it all felt and from holding onto the impending orgasm with all her might.

“halsin please,” she begged, tears in her eyes.

“just a little longer. you’re taking me so well,” he said gently.

the juxtaposition between his tone of voice and the way he was fucking her could send anyone into a dizzy spell. briar cried and begged and pleaded but not once did she even consider using the safeword. it all felt too good and a part of her wanted to see how far halsin would take her.

finally, finally, “cum for me, briar . let go for me.”

she came the hardest she ever had in her life, sobbing and thanking him as she trembled. the feeling washed through her like a river of pleasure.

with a roar, halsin came inside her, pumping her with his seed and fucking it into her. it felt good, and she whimpered as he slowed until he stopped.

halsin kissed her forehead as his orgasm waned. briar shivered when he pulled out, once again feeling empty.

halsin was on her immediately, kissing her gently before grabbing some water and a towel for her. briar drank her fill while he wiped her and got ready to cast healing touch before she grabbed his hand.

“no, i like the pain,” she said softly.

halsin looked troubled. “i went harder in the end than i intended. please, let me—”

she shook her head. “safeword, remember? i trusted you not to hurt me.”

“even then—”

a stern look from briar quickly shut him up and he shook his head. “at least let me lie with you until morning.”

“i can manage that,” she teased.

[streamingcolors-gvf]

Skin Deep - Part 10.1

Pairing: Josh Kiszka x f!reader x Jake Kiszka, Josh Kiszka x f!reader x male OC

Word Count: 8.6k

A/N: This chapter is going to be broken into three separate parts for the sake of keeping it from being too long and to have consistent updates.

**While this part doesn’t have explicit queer sex scenes, it does set up for it for following parts. If this is something that does not interest you, this is your warning for the entirely of chapter 10. **

I’m quite anxious about this one you guys. I love this OC so much and I’m stoked to share and introduce him to this universe. It’s not perfectly edited so be gentle for that.

As always, I appreciate all the love, support and feedback yall give me ❤️

Warnings: cursing, alcohol consumption, tobacco use, LGBTQ dynamic between characters/themes

Masterpost, Part 9 2/2

It’s late evening — way past the regular business hours, so you have to use the spare key the boys made for you and enter through the back door of the shop. You clumsily shuffle through the hallway due to your hands being full from the bags of carry-out you picked up on the way over. 

Sam must’ve already cleaned up and headed out based on the strong odor of glass cleaner assaulting your nose as soon as you walk through the curtains. Music is playing upstairs, which is something you’ve come to expect whenever there’s a human presence in this place. What takes you by surprise is the amount of boisterous laughter cutting through it.  

You wrestle, adjust your loot, and begin making your ascent on the staircase. Jake is in his usual spot when he’s not with a client, hunched over at his desk working on a design, leaving Josh and the man he is tattooing as the culprits for all the noise. Normally, you wouldn’t bat an eye at whoever happens to be in the chair after the last incident, but something about him seems different.

What you can pick up on during the short walk from the stairs toward Jake’s desk is Josh’s comfort with him.  He’s not putting on the customer service mask, laughing at bad jokes, and pretending to be interested in dull stories. He’s engaging in everything the man has to say, maybe borderline flirtatious from what you can already see. 

You step behind Jake, but he doesn’t hear you approach. You lean over and spot the white wireless earbuds he’s wearing and gently tap him on the shoulder, making him jolt a little. He stops drawing to pluck the left one from his ear and turns to face you.

“Hey,” he mumbles softly with a detectable exhaustion weighing on his voice. 

“Hey,” you greet back, hoping that your upbeat tone will help spark some energy in him. After setting the heavy bags of carry-out on the empty space on his desk to free your hands, you begin to massage his shoulders. He doesn’t put up a fight, and instantly drops his pen on the table to lean back into your touch.

“Fuck that feels good,” he groans and rolls his head as you knead the tight knots tangled within his sore muscles. 

“Long day?”

He releases a heavy sigh as you work out the tension in his upper back. “Yeah, and of course my last appointment was a fucking nightmare.”

He sucks in a sharp breath of pain as your thumbs roll over him. He’s stiff from his bad posture, but you don’t mean to cause him more discomfort. You relax your pressure and start rubbing the nape of his neck while you ask, “What happened?”

“Just the typical asshole that wants to micromanage the entire thing gets pissy about the price claiming he can get it cheaper somewhere else, and then whines and cries during the entire thing.”

You slip your hands down his chest as you lower yourself into an embrace and bring your lips to his cheek. “I’m sorry, babe. Sounds like you could use a drink and a hot shower.”

He huffs a dry laugh but leans into you while rubbing his fingers along your forearm. “I’m okay.” He gestures to Josh and his client as he continues, “Been trying to unwind for the past hour but with these fucking dickheads it’s almost impossible.”

“Who is that by the way?”

“Oh, that’s Kai, one of Josh’s friends with ben—“ He quickly catches himself and clears his throat,  “Uhh… I mean he’s a good friend of Josh.”

You try to not take anything he says seriously given the source, but what he’s blurted out takes you by surprise. Your mind isn’t playing tricks because you know you heard him correctly, but you ask anyway, “A friend with what?”

He breaks from your hold and pushes away from the desk while turning to face you in his chair. You’ve caught him and now all he can do is deflect. He shakes his head and waves a hand at you. “No, no, no. Just because you bring me food doesn’t mean you get to pull gossip from me.” Your smile and crossed arms threaten him but he stands his ground. “Go find shit out for yourself. Go on. Shoo!”

You scoff, “Are you fucking serious?”

He takes his food from the bag and starts to set up a spot to open it. “Yes. Now leave me to eat in peace, woman.”

You give him a heavy roll of your eyes even though he’s no longer looking at you and take Josh’s food with you on your short walk over to his area of the shop. He immediately senses your presence and finishes the line before lifting his head in your direction. 

“Hey, baby.” He breaks away from his conversation and looks at you with an infectious smile, and without control, you can’t help but smile back. 

As you step closer, you’re able to get a better look at his friend stretched out along the table. When you first walked in, you could see from a distance that he was covered in tattoos, but now you’re even more surprised that Josh was able to find a free space for another one.

“She gets to be called baby and I don’t?” The suspected Kai scoffs as he combs his inked fingers through his loose, raven-black curls that sit right at the nape of his neck. The calm cadence paired with the crackle of his raspy voice puts off an energy you can’t place. 

Josh giggles as he pulls another line across Kai’s stomach. “Well, for one, when you do the things she does with me, you earn being called baby.” 

He chuckles as if completely unphased by the needle penetrating his skin. “Where can I sign up for that?”

So they are flirting. 

You set Josh’s food down on a table and look over his shoulder to see the piece he’s working on. It’s a hand-sized pair of traditional-style, black, and gray scorpions on each side of Kai’s lower stomach between his hips. With the left side finished and wiped down, the right side is nearly complete. You note the bald spot on Kai’s stomach and imagine the process of Josh having to shave him with a careful hand. 

“How much does something like this cost? With all the detail and everything?” 

Josh answers without a second thought, “For him? No charge.”

“Really?” You hum. 

You flick your eyes up from Josh’s moving hand to catch Kai staring directly at you. His are unwavering, holding a rare intensity from the striking shade of green of his irises —  like polished stones of jade framed by dark lashes. They draw you in, locking you away in their gaze. A part of you feels compelled to break away, as if suddenly too embarrassed to look at him. You don’t, however. You allow your eyes to wander across the many body modifications of his face; the little tattoo on his right cheek, the silver septum ring beneath his nose, the pair of dimple piercings, and the two rings through each side of his bottom lip. 

As he studies you, his lips begin to slowly curl up over his teeth, revealing a perfectly devious smile that does nothing but make you weak and flustered. It’s emphasized but the barbells in his cheeks. Charming in the same way as Josh’s, although, with a certain feral quality that causes your thoughts to wander. With eyes staying focused on you, he directs his words to Josh, “How many times do I have to keep telling you that I don’t need free work? Let me pay you this time.”

It gives you enough of a chance to break your focus from him to finally look away. Josh mutters under his breath as he stretches to dip the needle into the ink, “No chance.”

“I’m Kai, by the way,” he introduces himself with an outstretched hand, ignoring Josh’s remark completely. You stumble forward to take it, feeling his soft, yet chilled fingers wrap around yours. You give your name, making his smile grow even larger.  “How do you know Josh?”

You try to convince yourself that he’s simply making light conversation and being polite. That the burning look in his eyes, the tight hold he has on your hand, even down to the drawl of his voice doesn’t mean that there are deeper intentions behind his interest in you. 

You’re the one to make the first move in pulling a hand away, breaking free from his grasp. You shift, straightening to stand with heat prickling the back of your neck and forehead. “Oh…well, I met Josh when I came here to get my thigh piece done by Jake.”

Kai pries his eyes away from you to shoot Josh a judgemental stare. Josh returns the glare and huffs with a defensive raise of his hands, “What?!”

He chuckles as he slips his hand beneath his head to prop himself up on the table.“So that’s why I haven’t heard from you.” He teases with a lilt in his voice and winks at you before adding, “Josh, you sly dog.”

Josh responds by smacking Kai across the arm and you have to hold back the laugh that tries to escape your mouth. 

“Ouch! What did I say?!” He cries out while rubbing his arm dramatically despite the cheeky smile plastered across his face. 

You jump in intending to change the subject, even if your curiosity serves as the driving force to your question. “So how do you guys know each other?”

“Oh, Josh and I go way back,” Kai answers with an exaggerated sigh. “I ‘ve been getting work done for years now…just can’t stay away from all the great prices and wonderful customer service.”

As they stare at each other for a few beats of time, you watch the blush pinken Josh’s cheeks before he forces himself to refocus on his work. “He just keeps coming back no matter how many times we kick him out.”

Kai quips back, “I’m a stray. I’ll hang around if you keep feeding me.” Josh laughs as he works, wiping away the excess ink from his skin after each skillfully placed line. It’s starting to feel like you're interrupting their moment at this point, so you turn to leave until he stops you. “So what’s your Twitter handle?”

Before you have a chance to respond, Josh cuts in with an aggressive shake of his head, “Oh no, she doesn’t do that, Kai.”

Confusion twists the features of his face, matching the expression you’re wearing. “Do what?” 

While a mischievous glimmer flashes in Kai’s eyes, Josh slowly lifts his head to you, showing a look of worry.

Kai adjusts as if he’s preparing to tell you the biggest piece of gossip, answering in a demeanor that borders on too relaxed, “Create content.”

While the words process in your brain, Josh’s face drops in disappointment. If his hands weren’t gloved, he would’ve smacked his hand to his face for added effect. 

Josh’s reaction causes everything to click into place, making you understand the implication. He means adult content. Your face prickles with heat from your mind running with the thought of it. “Oh...oh.”

Josh braces for your discomfort while Kai continues the small talk as if nothing happened. “So what do you do?”

The question is innocent enough, but the look behind it says otherwise. You laugh nervously, glancing down at Josh to save you.“Nothing that interesting I’m afraid. I’m a barista down at the coffee shop.”

“Good money there?”

“Kai…” Josh scolds softly. “Don’t listen to him, baby.”

He glances up, giving you an expression as if to communicate with you telepathically. Despite the warning, you decide to answer anyway, “Enough to pay my bills I guess. Why?”

Kai flashes another smile and shrugs. “Just curious.”

Before the conversation has a chance of taking another turn,  Josh butts in, “Oh would you look at that! You’re all done.”

Disappointment flashes across his face before he looks down at the new additions on his stomach. “Already?” 

Taking the cue, you grab your food and get comfortable on the couch while Josh starts the cleanup process and takes pictures of his work. You do your best to mind your business, keeping your focus on the takeout container balanced on your lap, but you see Kai carefully stand to his feet and walk past you in your periphery. He stops in front of the full-length mirror where you have stood many times before. He’s kept his shirt lifted away from the fresh tattoo with his pants riding so low you can faintly see the patch of his pubic hair peeking above the band of pants. You’re gawking now, staring at how he twists his body and flexes his toned stomach in the mirror. You’re quick to note how his build is similar to Josh’s. He’s lean but with a bit more muscle and a few inches added to his height. 

“These look fucking sick, Josh,” Kai calls over his shoulder as he admires the finished pair of scorpions. “Good choice on the placement.”

Josh chuckles, tearing the cling wrap away from the table. “I’m glad you like it.”

You check on Jake to see that he’s still at his desk, munching away on his food with his earpods nestled inside his ears. He glances up and shoots Kai an annoyed look, followed by a heavy roll of his eyes before taking another bite of his food. 

Josh pulls your attention away with a dramatic huff, “Are you done staring at yourself or can I bandage you up already?”

Kai turns, revealing an exceptionally cocky grin, “Why? Do you wanna stare instead?” 

“No, you idiot. I’m fucking starving and my food is getting cold.”

Amused, he takes his time making his way back to Josh, but you forget to look away, letting him catch you red-handed. He smiles, biting into his bottom lip with a wink sent only to you. You’d normally be irritated by a man with an ego too big for this room. But this one feels different. With a level of confidence that borders on arrogance, you believe it suits him — sex appeal radiating from every part of him. And with a single look, you find your heart racing. 

Standing behind Josh while he preps the bandages, Kai ruffles his hair, teasing him, “You’re so cute when you’re mad.”    

“Cut it out,” Josh grumbles, but you can see the smile spreading as he half-spins in his chair, reaching back for him. “Get over here.”

Kai steps around to face him, placing a leg between Josh’s open ones. A position where if he were to sit, he would be balanced right on his thigh. He looks down, watching as Josh peels the backing of the Saniderm and carefully places it on his skin. You recognize the gentle touch he’s using — the same one he’s used on you. His focus on Kai’s lower stomach is locked, brows furrowed in concentration while being mindful of his soreness as he presses the clear bandage down, even having to pull Kai’s waistband slightly to get the bottom edge to stick properly. Their proximity makes you blush — a closeness blurring the line of professionalism.

Kai extends a hand to slip his fingers through Josh’s curls again, but it’s far from taunting. He rests it there on the crown of his head, tugging his attention upward by the roots of his hair. You’ve seen that look in his eyes before — you know that look. You just can’t be sure who you’re more envious of, him or Kai. But seeing Josh cast under the same spell excites you, and makes that aching feeling throb between your legs. 

You see the harsh swallow in Josh’s throat before Kai lets his hand fall to his side. Josh's eyes quickly dart away and find yours. Realizing you caught the moment, guilt twists his features until you give him a raised wiggle of your brows. 

He tries his best to bite back the bashful smile, but you can see that he’s visibly flustered. After clearing his throat, he rushes to clean up the leftover trash from the bandages to keep busy. The tension between them is palpable, thicker than the humid mid-summer air outside. Satisfied with himself, Kai drops his shirt and pulls his phone out of his pocket. 

Josh rambles about the aftercare, telling him when he can remove his bandages and how to properly wash as if this was the man’s first tattoo. Kai nods along anyway, walking in your direction toward the center of the room. Josh stands from his chair to follow but quickly pulls at his pants to readjust himself. At first, you think your eyes are deceiving you, but there’s no mistaking the significant bulge he’s desperately trying to hide. 

 “Oh shit!” Josh calls out, tossing the gloves that he’s peeled off his hands into the trash can. “Before I forget again, would you guys like to come out and see us next weekend?”

Kai answers immediately, “Absolutely.”

However, you don’t answer with nearly the same amount of certainty, asking a question of your own, “Both of us?” 

You can feel Kai’s eyes on you in an instant. He’s observant of you —  you’ll give him that. It makes you highly aware of yourself, mindful to not give away too much. It’s not that you don’t want to see Josh, it’s the thought of seeing Kai again. The dynamic between them has been a massive curveball, and you’re scrambling to catch up on processing it all. 

“Yeah of course!” Josh doesn’t seem to catch it, sliding onto the arm of the leather couch. He’s distracted, beaming with excitement while trying to act casual. “We finally booked another gig. You’ll come, right?”

There’s that smile of his that you sell you on anything. He’s put you right on the spot. He could’ve just asked you directly if you wanted to come, or even waited until the day knowing full well that you’d show up that evening regardless. “Yeah, I can make it.”

Kai walks around the other side of the couch and picks up a tote you didn’t realize was sitting there. “Same place?”

Josh’s smile grows even bigger. “Hell yeah.”

“Perfect. Just text me the details. Unfortunately, I gotta run. I’m already late for a meeting.” You sense him step behind you to get to Josh and reach in for a hug. As he wraps his arms around him, he kisses him on the cheek. “Thanks for the awesome tat. Always a pleasure.”

“Of course, anytime,” Josh sighs from the praise, holding onto the embrace until Kai pulls away. 

The weight of his hand on your shoulder surprises you, making you jump slightly. He squeezes you through your shirt as he leans down over the back of the couch. Your consciousness dives, swimming in his cologne that must be placed perfectly on his pulse points. It’s crisp, cool to the nose with its fresh floral notes that finish off with a comforting woodsy scent — like the summer rainstorms you’ve been romanticizing lately. 

He keeps his voice low, so close to your ear that you swear you can feel his lips move against it, “It was definitely a pleasure meeting you.” His chilled touch sends a shiver down your spine as his fingers slide up the soft curve of your neck. “Can’t wait to see you again.”

Your body reacts before your mind can, making your breath feel heavy in your chest. The distant sound of a throat clearing disrupts him, making you both look up to see Jake staring directly at you. 

Kai gives you a final squeeze before pushing away from you. “Jake! How could I forget you?”

The ghost of his fingers on your neck haunts you as he crosses the room. You replay the touch, and the words spoken in your ear while your eyes follow him and the unbothered swagger of his stride. Jake is just finishing the last of his meal, keeping his head down like a dog guarding a prized bone. “Leaving so soon?”

Josh, still sitting beside you on the arm of the couch, gives you a worried look, but you both watch as the interaction unfolds together. Kai continues his stroll behind him, daring to walk right into the cage of the beast. Metaphorically poking as if the blatant sarcasm was fuel to his antics. “Aww. You don’t have to put on such a brave face. It’s okay to miss me.”

Jake grumbles, letting his distaste coat the words between his teeth as he gives him a second warning, “The day I never see you again can’t come soon enough.”

Kai stops behind him and sticks out a dramatic bottom lip while slapping his hands to his heart. With Jake’s back to him, it’s a theatrical display meant for Josh and you to see. “Such sweet words coming from you.” The fake pout forms into a mischievous grin as he wraps his arms around Jake’s rigid shoulders. “Bring it in, big guy.”

You watch him take in a heavy breath through flared nostrils to calm himself. “Kai…I swear to god, if you don’t get your fucking hands off me I’ll drag you out of here myself.”

Kai takes the threat as a challenge, nestling his cheek against Jake’s even tighter in an effort to taunt him. “Now you’re getting me excited.” Without a word, Jake’s lip hooks into a snarl just as he tries to grab him, making him jump back out of reach. “I’m going! I’m going!”

Kai, successful at annoying him, skips back with his hands raised in defense, filling the room with a ringing cackle. Once he reaches the top of the stairs, he spins, giving a final goodbye wave before leaving. “It was lovely seeing you again.”

You both give him a nod and wave in return, listening as the echoes of footsteps fade out down the steps, leaving you to sit in the hushed silence between the three of you. Jake’s foul mood becomes more evident than ever as he angrily shoves his earbuds back in without saying a word to either of you. 

“Alright, I gotta finish cleaning up and then we can head out of here,” Josh groans as he slides off the couch, paying no mind to his twin. His back must be aching from being hunched over for hours but you swear you can see the lively skip in his step as he makes his way back to his station. 

If that fluttery, “butterflies in your stomach” feeling was written in the dictionary, Josh’s picture would be right next to it. He can barely control the smile on his face wanting to break free or the blush pinkening the apples of his cheeks. Wanting to feel the energy up close, you lean down and wrap your arms around his shoulders, interrupting his cleaning. He welcomes it, holding you close with his hands on your arms while he melts into the embrace. You kiss him, feeling the warmth of his flushed skin against your lips. “I can see why you like him.”

Like a hormonal teenager confessing who they’ve been secretly pining over, a bashful smile spreads on his face. “I do not. He’s just a friend,” he defends weakly before the words break apart into laughter.

“Oh please!” you huff, letting your own smile show. You break away, allowing him to spin on his chair so he can face you. “That’s the biggest crush I’ve ever seen with my own eyeballs, Josh.”

Your eyes finally meet as you sit on the cleared-off tattoo table. There’s a glimmer in them as they search the thoughts behind yours. You can’t deny that this is new for both of you, but he’s still cautious about how to approach it. He scooches toward you, bringing himself between your bent knees. He rubs his thumb across your kneecap and starts to trace patterns across the denim.“Yeah…well, a crush that doesn’t really mean anything.”

You don’t need to ask to know what his apprehension is about. He doesn’t want to spark the same jealousy in you again after what happened that one day with the blonde. As much as you can admittedly say it wasn’t your proudest moment, there’s more security in whatever this is between you now than there was at that time. The attraction between them seems genuine, and you’d be lying if you didn’t feel it with Kai yourself. 

He settles in closer, sliding your ass to the edge so he can fold his arms around your waist. It’s the reassurance you both need. He buries his face into your chest, giving you the attention you’ve been craving all day. If you didn’t have the audience, you’d fall off the table onto his lap and fuck him senseless. 

That was another thing. 

Jake. 

Regardless of the fact he never explicitly had a conversation about being exclusive with only you in a non-hypothetical sense, he is far from approachable about it now. You haven’t been completely oblivious the past few weeks. Women’s names have come across his phone screen and interactions on his social media would hint that he had other situations going on. You didn’t dig, and for good reason. 

With your fingers weaved into Josh’s curls, you tip his head back for a kiss. It feels good, sweet, and vulnerable with the bite of his mint hitting your tongue. As soon as you pull away, he lets out a dreamy sigh, “Besides, I’m perfectly happy with you.’

“Is that so?” You hum. His response only comes out as a groan from you lightly scratching his scalp, causing him to practically purr in your hands. “I dunno…He is pretty cute.”

His eyes flutter open from your words, and he bites into the flesh of his bottom lip. “Sounds like you’re the one with a crush, baby.” 

The Twisted Cherry is everything one could expect from a local dive bar. Tucked away at a corner on the east side of downtown, the popular spot is unrecognizable in the daylight hours. Hidden in plain sight until the sun starts to set and its neon lights buzz to life. Tonight, it’s bustling with activity — humming with drunken chatter and young adults pouring in and weaving their way through the tiny entrance. After paying a small cover fee to the doorman, you meander your way through the small crowd that’s starting to form. A combination of sweat, a hundred different perfumes, and the mustiness of the historic building hangs in the dense air. 

It’s difficult to see clearly in the dark with the hazy red bulbs acting as the only lighting throughout the place, but you’re able to find the bar easily. The music playing over the speakers is a relief knowing that the live show hasn’t started yet. You glance at your phone to check the time and slide it back into your purse while you wait for a bartender to notice you. With a secured hand on the waxed, wooden surface grounding you, you scan over the heads and spot the small stage near the back. You keep an eye out for Josh but quickly recognize Danny checking the equipment on stage.

You feel a set of fingers brush against the back of your arm, and before you can scold the stranger grabbing you from behind, a voice greets you, “Hey there. It’s nice to see you again.”

Kai steps into your view and stands before you. It’s not that you’re surprised that he’s here because he was also invited, it’s that you’re not sure how to feel about him being here. You’re attracted to him, thinking about him more than you ever should. An attraction that had you searching for his content on the internet one lonely night this past week. 

That smile of his — a perfectly white set of teeth with a pair of canines just a bit sharper than the average person. You imagine how it would feel to have them sink into your skin before a sloppy kiss. That fluttery feeling of excitement and throbbing need for more comes with a wash of guilt.  You’re here for Josh, not him. 

“Oh, hi,” you respond in a much softer voice than you intend, and it gets drowned out by the music so much you wonder if he heard you at all. Your movements are stiff and awkward while that nagging bead of sweat drips lower down your back. 

You feel his looming eyes on you as he leans an elbow into the bar and takes a sip of his drink. He’s reading you, studying every little mannerism and nervous glance of your eyes trying to look at anything else but him. 

From what you noticed so far, he looks good. He’s swapped the t-shirt he wore the last time you saw him for a solid black, long-sleeve button-down that’s rolled just below the elbows. It’s oversized, with linen-like fabric draping loosely from his slender frame that’s tucked into his dark-wash baggy jeans. Since you can’t hold eye contact to save your life, your gaze has drifted down to the massive rips in the denim on both of his knees. 

“What are you doing here?” The question comes out cold, dry, and sharp. It’s accusatory, and you’re not exactly why it came out that way. 

He forces out a dry laugh, and stands a step closer into your personal space, pulling your line of sight that has been fused to black leather boots up to the layered necklaces wrapped around his throat. One has a thin silver chain with a small heart-shaped locket. The other is a thicker chain of the same metal with prongs to resemble barbs on a wire fence. He pulls in a breath and releases a deep sigh, “Well, I’m here to see Josh. But what about you? Why are you here?”

He knows why. He’s playing — dangling that little toy mouse in front of you until you finally decide to snatch it. He’s done a wonderful job at leaving that trail of breadcrumbs to see if you’re curious enough about his intentions to follow them. Deep down you know if you were to take him by the hand and lead him to the bathroom, he’d be more than happy to fuck your brains out in one of the filthy stalls. 

If not— if he was truly here for Josh only — he’s the biggest tease you’ve ever met. You’re smart enough to know that if he wanted Josh for himself, he wouldn’t have bothered approaching you at all.

You still shift on your feet to balance the uneasiness as the conflicting feelings stir inside you. It’s like he’s ripped the wires out of your brain and crossed them. “Yeah, me too.”

He reaches out and pops the bubble you’ve tried to form around yourself by touching your arm once more — another gentle graze of his cool fingers. “You okay? You’re kind of making me anxious.”

The touch is innocent enough, meant purely as a physical check-in, but it doesn’t fail to send a shock of electricity through you. You try to hold back your body’s physical reaction, but there’s no doubt he caught it. It’s enough to make you look up and meet his gaze. “Yeah, I’m okay. Sorry.”

Even in the crowded, dark bar, his smile reaches his light eyes, stealing every bit of your attention. “Don’t be. Want a drink?”

“Sure, but I can get—” He interrupts you with a raise of his hand to the bartender, gesturing that he’d like two more of the same drink that’s currently in his hand. 

“You didn’t have to…” you trail off. 

He lifts his dark brow at you. “Would you like someone else to buy you drinks tonight? Josh seems a little busy.”

You stare at him, shooting him a stubborn glare. “…No.”

He huffs a laugh, stirring the ice melting away in the bottom of his glass. “Okay, then don’t be like that.”

“Like what?”

A smirk plays on his lips before he says, “A people pleaser.”

“I am not,” you scoff, offended by his attempt to psychoanalyze you. You could lay into him, give him an ear-full, and storm your way out of here — maybe even throw what’s left of his drink in his face for dramatic effect. But you both know that’s not what you want. 

He props an elbow back on the bar again and tongues the silver rings pierced through each side of his bottom lip — a similar oral fixation to Josh’s tongue piercing. “You’re too worried about what I think.”

“What if I didn’t want you to assume anything?” You’re quick to fire back, but your confidence is shaky at best, and he can see right through your stubbornness. 

Those intense green eyes scan down the length of you while the chewed cocktail straw dances across his bottom lip. If you really were a dove — a helpless bird with fluttering wings upon the ground — he was the black cat lurking in the brush ready to pounce. 

The bartender comes up from behind him and slides two cocktails across the bar between you. He takes one and offers it to you. “So you’re accusing me of being presumptuous?”

You take the drink from his hand, watching as he grabs the lone cherry half-buried in the ice from his glass and pops it into his mouth before taking the new drink waiting for him. 

You let his question hang in the air by taking a sip of your drink. Based on the distinct, nutty almond flavor and tartness of lemon, you guess it’s the bar’s spin on an amaretto sour. A thought crosses your mind, making you laugh, “Why do I feel like you’re the type that can tie a knot in a cherry stem?”

He chuckles, amused by your sudden change of subject, “Isn’t that a bit cliche?”

“If you can’t do it, just say that,” you challenge, sucking down another large sip of your drink. 

He plays along, taking the bright maraschino cherry sitting pretty next to the orange slice garnish on the rim. He plucks the syrup-marinated fruit, savoring the saccharine juice before laying the bare stem across his outstretched tongue. For a moment, you forget the fact you’re not alone, while also realizing that he’s showing off now. Keeping his eyes fixed on yours, he rolls it around in his closed mouth for about thirty seconds until the end of the stem pops out from his lips. They spread into that same cocky grin you’ve seen from him before. With it wedged between his teeth, he reaches up and tightens the loose knot with a pull of his inked fingers. 

Checkmate. 

You’re stunned into silence — no other moves left in your arsenal. He seals your fate, kicking your queen off the board with the gift of the perfect knot as he leans in close. Drunk off the victory, he croons softly against your ear, “Any more tests for me?”

If you had more alcohol in your system, you might’ve thrown yourself at him, but he steps away from you, disappearing into the crowd centered around the tiny stage. The preset music that’s been fades out, signaling the round of cheers and clapping from everyone around you. You look around to find the reason for the commotion and see Josh, Jake, and Sam step out onto the platform. 

You shuffle through to get closer, eventually spotting Kai standing by himself. He gives you a smile when you approach, but Josh’s muffled voice coming through the microphone cuts in before either of you has the chance to say anything.

“Hello, hello,” he mumbles, tapping the top of the microphone as he paces the front of the stage. You’re not sure what you expected from him, but the last thing on your mind was the pair of black leather pants he’s wearing, riding so low on his hips that you can see the tip of the leaf of his tattooed cherries poking above the waistband. They’re incredibly tight to his body in all the right places — leaving nothing to the collective imagination. The black, short-sleeved blouse is not any more conservative, left completely unbuttoned to reveal the collection of tattoos covering his torso. You can’t lie that seeing him up there, being the focus of everyone’s attention feels surreal.  

He downs the rest of his drink to shake off the remaining nerves and places it somewhere out of sight. “Hope everyone is having a lovely night.”

It earns a few shouts and whistles, but your gaze follows Jake, dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a t-shirt. He’s busy fiddling with the guitar hanging from his shoulders. You’ve noticed the cherry-finish SG propped up in the corner of his room but had yet to see him with it until now. He plays a few notes, doing any last-minute tuning while the rest of the guys get into position.  

While Danny gets ready behind the drum kit, Josh continues, whipping the microphone cord in his hand as goes, “Make sure to get your necessary refreshments. You all know the drill by now. Smoke ‘em if you got ‘em…and uh…get ready for some rock n’ roll.”

Josh’s face lights up the second he spots you standing next to Kai, smiling so wide it stretches from ear to ear. You wave at him, getting a wink in return. Jake on the other hand, only gives you a single nod before dropping his line of sight back to the guitar in his hands. Sam, with a bass hanging from the thick strap around his back, has been busy chatting with a few girls in the front row. Danny sets the count, and within seconds, the cramped space erupts on his mark. 

Josh’s vocals rip through the dense air of the dive bar. You know your mouth has dropped open and your eyes have widened in shock. It takes far longer than you’d like to admit, but you’re able to recognize the cover as “White Room” by Cream. 

In the white room with black curtains near the station

Black roof country, no gold pavements, tired sterlings

His voice is gritty, raw and powerful. There’s a certain whine to it that lives in your chest with every breath you take — so loud it rings in your ears and makes the hairs on your arms stand on end. He possesses the modest stage with a charisma that’s completely new to you. He’s far more confident than you’ll ever be, existing through the music and letting it course through his body with the sways of his head to the rhythmic bounce of his foot. Within minutes, his body starts to glisten with a sheen of sweat, causing your eye to catch the exposed golden bar pierced through his navel. 

For a moment, you forget that you’re sleeping with him, that every part of his gyrating body has been explored by you — by your tongue. He seems like an entirely new man, dripping with unadulterated eroticism and ego. 

Never wanting his brother to take all the attention, Jake steps in to deliver his solo. His nimble fingers move across the frets with lightning speed, showcasing another level of talent and dexterity that you didn’t know he had. Josh is more than happy to let him take the limelight, moving aside to gladly accept a shot of clear liquor being offered to him by someone in the crowd. 

When you pictured what this might be in your head, you imagined something akin to a local karaoke night. You hadn’t expected them to actually be this good.

 As the first song fades out, they roll into the next one without stopping. Some songs you can pick out, some you don’t. You’re simply captivated by the performance, absorbing all of their forty-five-minute set without moving from your spot once. 

One thing you couldn’t help but notice was Jake actively trying to ignore you. Other than a few fleeting glances in your direction, his attention stayed on his guitar or the women shouting at him in the first row. Instead of giving you those smiles, he gave them away, even stripping from his drenched t-shirt to show off the tattoos on his chest and back. If you were here alone, his behavior might’ve bothered you more than it does. Kai’s presence smothers it, even if it might be the reason it sparked it in the first place. 

After the guys finish up their last song, Kai nudges you with an elbow and leads the way, clearing a path through the crowd back to the bar with you in tow. The short walk feels like a blur like you’re the one running on adrenaline. Your body buzzes with so much excitement that you hardly notice the fact he’s already ordered another round. 

“Wow,” you breathe.

He reaches out and holds your wrist, grounding you to him as he leans back against the bar. “First time seeing them play?”

“Yeah.” You nod, setting your empty glass on the polished bar top. 

He’s looking past you, right at Josh still talking to a few people near the stage. “It’s definitely an experience.”

You note the way he looks at him, studying all the same things you did minutes ago. Since it's been eating away at you for almost two weeks, you feel compelled to ask yourself, “So are you and Josh friends with benefits?”

He shakes his head and smirks in response to the question, making you feel as though it was a stupid one to ask. “Who told you that?”

“Jake,” you confess. 

“Hmm…and do you always take Jake’s word on everything?” His striking eyes pierce right through you. Now inches away, you’re able to see all the details up close. The tattoo on his right cheek that says “lover”, the faint freckles that paint his nose, and the little scar that goes through his left brow. 

“Do I have a reason not to?”

His stare softens and shifts to Josh before flicking his eyes back over to you. “I guess that’s for you to find out. But no, Josh and I aren’t friends with benefits.”

You wonder how Jake would get the idea because you don’t think of him as the type to lie about something like that. “You haven’t done anything at all?”

His fingers skate across your forearms resting on the edge of the bar. “You’re a curious one,” he laughs, meeting your gaze, searching both of your eyes until he drops his own to your lips, letting them linger there. You’re hypnotized by his eyes, caught up in the lustful thoughts that have invaded your mind. “Aside from a few drunken makeouts that I’m sure he doesn’t even remember now, no.”

You try to bring his words to life in your head, imagining what that might have looked like — what it would be like to kiss him yourself. “Oh…okay.”

“Look.” He squeezes your hand before letting go to grab the drinks sitting on the bar. “I hope you know that you have him so tightly wrapped around your finger, and from what I see, he’d do anything to make you happy.” He lifts a shot you didn’t order, gesturing for you to take it. “You’re the one calling the shots here, so start acting like it.”

Before you can even think about what he said, he clinks his shot glass against yours, pressuring you to throw back the clear liquor into your mouth. You can tell its vodka right away by how it burns all the way down your throat. 

You cough through that pain, “What, are you trying to get drunk?” 

He laughs at your expense, chasing his shot with another sip of his new drink. Your judgment is becoming clouded, all inhibitions dissolving away by the second in his presence. You look over to Josh to see him slowly making his way over to you with each conversation he’s getting pulled into.  

“What are you so worried about, kitten?” The added feline quality of his voice rasps against your ear, making you tremble in his loose hold. “How badly you want to fuck me or is it how much he wants to?”

You’re fully pressed against him now, smelling the scent of his aftershave and feeling the warmth of his skin through his shirt.  He’s good at leaving you speechless, as a suitable answer for him evades you. The temptation to touch him, to kiss him becomes unbearable — your self-control reduced to a mere thread. Something makes his body tense up for the first time, and he pulls away enough to look down at you. “Is there a reason why Jake is looking at me like he wants to murder me?”

You turn, breaking away from him to look behind you. You search the groups, spotting Jake standing next to Danny and Sam as he nurses a glass of amber liquid, presumably whiskey. The set brows and jaw clench are visible even at this distance. He’s avoiding eye-contact with you, giving away that he’s angry with you. “Oh…uhm,” you stammer over yourself, struggling to find a place to start. “Well…”

Kai’s brows shoot up but his shoulders fall in disbelief now that the pieces start to fit together. “You’re fucking kidding me,” he breathes, taking another sip of his drink. Something shifts as the gears turn in his head, and a devilish grin reveals itself over the lip of his glass. What would scare away more people only seems to make him double down, as if he thrives off the pure chaos. “Let’s get messy then.”

“Fucking finally.” You hear Josh heavy groan beside you. “I never thought I would escape.” He takes a second to collect himself now that he’s made it to the bar. “Fuck, I’m so glad you both could come.” 

“You didn’t tell me you could sing like that,” you gush, giving him a playful shove to his shoulder, which only makes him propel himself closer to you.

“Maybe I wanted it to be a surprise.” He kisses you — heavy, hot and brimming with lust. He’s impatient, beyond pent up, licking into your mouth while he ruts his hardening length against your hip. “Being on that stage gets me so fucking horny, baby. I don’t think I can wait to fuck you later.” His sinful confessions being mumbled into your skin is enough to drive you feral. 

If the state of your underwear was any indication of how you’re feeling — you need him more than anything you’ve needed before. 

He shows enough restraint to acknowledge Kai standing beside you. “Looks like you’re making a new friend though.” 

You glance up at him to see that he’s more than content sipping away at his cocktail while the two of you go at it, giving you a side-eye peek. A heat radiates in your chest and blooms up to your face thinking about the things he had said to you minutes ago, making you admit, “We’ve gotten to know each other a little.” 

Josh’s curious eyes bounce between you before landing on Kai. “You’re not making me a stranger, are you?”

Kai sets his glass down and signals for another round. Those siren eyes of his find Josh’s while he lures him in with a silken voice, “I don’t think it would take much to get reacquainted.”

The sexual tension between them reaches its threshold, breaking apart from a single look. Acting on a surge of bravery, Josh takes the leap of faith you’ve yet to make. He leans forward and crashes his lips into Kai’s before he’s given the chance to react. It takes him a second to catch up with Josh’s unrestricted fervor, but quickly regains his footing. After bringing a hand to cradle the side of his face, Kai successfully suppresses that hunger enough to slow him down to be present. You watch as their lips part, seeing the glint of Josh’s piercing as his tongue slips into Kai’s mouth. 

His ringed fingers dive into Josh’s sweaty hair, tugging him by the roots to make him whimper. To witness him being turned into a moaning mess makes you ache terribly. He’s teasing Josh with a taste to remember, and is now pulling away to keep him chasing for it. 

Josh licks at his swelling bottom lip to savor what was left there. He suddenly plummets back to Earth, remembering where he is and that you’re still standing here beside him. “Oh shit… I’m sorry—“ 

“Don’t be,” you giggle, interrupting his frantic apology. “I’ve been wanting to do that all night.”

It was supposed to be a light-hearted joke to add levity to the moment. But the next thing you feel is Kai’s hand wrapping around your neck. “Let’s make it even, then.” 

You have thought about this very moment over and over again after that night at the shop. The way his lips would feel, how they would taste, how he would touch you. It’s a forbidden desire, more so than Jake has ever felt. You’re not supposed to have another man make you feel like this. 

His lips connect with a controlled grace, the pad of his thumb grazing along your jawline to ease you in. You relinquish control, clutching onto the fabric of his shirt while you memorize the cold sensation of the silver rings slipping across your lip as the kiss deepens. He baits you with a teasing flick of his tongue, making you chase it back into the sweetness of his mouth. 

Before you know it, it’s all over. 

“Oh my fucking god, that was so hot,” Josh groans. His restlessness breaks the moment for you to see him tossing back one of the shots that was ordered. 

You’ve been blushing so hard that your face has started  to break out in a sweat, but Kai is still holding you by the chin, peering down at you through obsidian lashes. He bites down on his bottom lip, creating little impressions in the wet flesh. “What do you think? Should we get outta here, kitten?”

All three of you stumble out of the bar onto the sidewalk after paying the tap, realizing you’ve had a bit more to drink than you expected to. Your chest feels tight, but in that way when you know something is about to happen. Josh, on the other hand, is vibrating with nervous energy so much his hands have started to shake as he pulls out the pack of cigarettes from his pocket. 

“Uber will be here in 5 minutes,” Kai announces, noticing Josh drunkenly struggle to light the end of his cigarette. You try to find another lighter from the depths of your purse, but Kai digs his own from his pocket to help him. It’s sensual — the way he watches him pull in a slow drag so he can pluck the burning cigarette from between his fingers. 

Before Josh can exhale, Kai captures his lips in a smokey kiss. He nips at his bottom lip, thriving on the way he’s left Josh breathless and confused as he takes in a drag of his own. He then looks at you with a raised brow, silently asking you if you want one as well. You nod, eagerly closing the distance, stepping into his arms so he can hold your chin steady. You open your lips for him, allowing him to blow a gentle stream of smoke past them before sealing it with a kiss. 

You hear Josh giggle in the background, humming with energy he can no longer contain, “You two are trying to fucking kill me.”

TAGLIST:

@gretavanbitches @dannyandthekiszkas @asparrowofthedawn @ageofnations @welightthefire @garbagevanfleet @lvnterninthenight @pennylanefics @writingcold @alexxavicry @gvfficrecs @jakeyboiiiiiii @doodle417 @richjaaasss @pr41sethemoon @gretavanflowerpowerrr @joshskittytickler @tripthelightfatality @maddie-van-fleet @sarakay-gvf @josiee-gvf @milkgemini @sammiejane22 @gretavanbear @capturethechaos @welllauragvf @averagemisfit03 @myownparadise96 @givemeyourtots2 @gretavangroove @objectsinspvce @myownparadise96 @feilores @josh-iamyour-mama @givemeyourtots2 @joshkiszkasbigtoe @lightmylove-gvf @mydarlingdanny @shutupdevvie @twinszka @busybeingtrash @carlybubs @demonrat444 @high-fidelity1 @jake-kiszkas-smirk @sunandthemoontwinflames @gvfcinema @klarxtr @sacredthethreadgvf @gracev0609

[miel-ji]

It's My Problem

Genre: angst w/ a happy ending, established relationship 

Pairing: Hyunjin x Fem!Reader 

Word Count: 2.2k

Warning: crying, some curse words, pet names, kiss 

Summary: You’ve been overworked and stressed from university, and it causes you to neglect the one thing in your life that eases your mind from it all 

A/N: Based on this request by anon! I’m sorry it took me so long to write this, but I hope you enjoy it!!

Ever since you had gotten done with classes that day, you have been sitting in the same spot in your apartment living room working on the same essay. Your professor decided to inconvenience everyone by moving the deadlines earlier without notice, so you were rushed to get through this week's assignments. Your grade had already taken a serious blow when you failed your quiz earlier, and now you were on the edge of pulling out all of your hair trying to get done with this essay. It didn’t help that no matter how much effort you put into an essay, it seemed your professor always read it with the intent of finding flaws to be able to fail you. 

You have been staring at your laptop screen, absorbed in the mind-numbing topic, until all the words started to mold together and there was nothing but static in your brain. However, you couldn’t afford any breaks, so you pushed through just hoping you weren’t asking too much of trying to get it done in time and bring your grade up a little. This essay had brought you to the brink of tears more than once, but there was nothing you could do with your pent up energy but pour it into writing like a vicious cycle. You were mentally exhausted and didn’t have time or spare energy to devote to anything else which is how you had missed the numerous texts sent from your boyfriend. 

Hyunjin was also having a miserable day, having created a whole routine that he had to scrap at the last minute since the company decided that it wasn’t the right look for him after all. He was feeling completely drained and useless having wasted so much time on something he was proud of just to be told it wasn’t good enough. He had felt he let himself down, his members, and stay, and all he wanted was to be somewhere that he could forget everything for a moment. He just needed to go home to you and put this whole day behind him, knowing that you’d give him the encouragement to try again. 

He ignored the weird feeling in his chest he got that you haven't responded to any of his texts, telling himself that you were busy at university today. The sun had long set when Hyunjin was entering your apartment, and the darkness he walked home in reflected his mood. However, when he saw you curled up on the couch in his oversized hoodie with your messy hair falling into your eyes, he felt that twinge in his chest start to ease. His features softened as he gazed at you, and he could feel the tightness in his muscles melting. 

He wordlessly made his way over to you, and he wrapped his arms around you and buried his face in the crook of your neck. You engulfing his every sense was already returning some of his energy, and he held onto you tighter. “Hey, my love,” he mumbled, pulling away to kiss the pulse point under your jaw, delighting in the steady rhythm of your heartbeat. 

“Hyunjin, love… I’m trying to work.” You ruffled his hair without even sparing him a glance, and your voice was monotonous as your headspace remained immersed in the work in front of you. 

Hyunjin was a bit taken aback about how unreceptive you were being, his grip around you loosened and his brows furrowed with worry. “Angel… Why don’t you take a break? You seem a bit tense. Maybe you just need to clear your head.” 

You bitterly laughed before pulling away slightly from Hyunjin’s arms, “No, I just need to get this done.” He sat up from the hug, but he wasn’t ready to let you go, his hands resting on your hips and rubbing soothing circles on the skin that his thumbs brushed when he slipped his hands under your hoodie. 

Hyunjin felt a sting in his heart when you moved away from him, but he realized what class you were working on and exactly how stressed you were. What hurt more was seeing your eyes glazed with tiredness and the lingering frown on your lips, so he tried again. “Y/n-“ 

“Hyunjin,” your tone was stern, almost like a warning, and you let out a long sigh. Normally, you wouldn’t have missed the way that his hands were trembling a bit from where they still rested at your sides. You wouldn’t have missed his wide pleading eyes wanting you to look at him, becoming glassier each second that yours remained trained on your laptop. You didn’t think anything about the way that he silently got up and disappeared into your bedroom with heavy footsteps. 

You weren’t really thinking at all, your mind being on autopilot to fill in every part except for this all consuming essay that could be compared to the likes of a parasite. You’re not sure how long had passed since Hyunjin had left your side and been replaced with a deafening silence, but you were finally attaching your essay file to submit. When you closed your laptop screen and plunged yourself into the darkness of your apartment, the sense of dread never left the pit of your stomach, but it was out of your hands now. You sat there for a second, letting your mind recover from the strain that you put it through, and your eyes adjusted as you looked around and noticed just how empty everything felt. 

You had a sudden longing for your boyfriend that you remember had tried to greet you earlier, but you couldn’t pull yourself away from your work. You felt around for your phone on the couch to check what time it was, momentarily blinded by the brightness before spotting the numerous notifications from Hyunjin you had received throughout the day. The text started off cute as usual, telling you how pretty you had looked after you left him to attend classes and him wishing you to have a good day. You smiled absently to yourself as you read over these, but hours later at the company, they became less and less happy as he filled you in on the emotions he was battling that day. 

Your smile slowly faded and tears welled in your eyes as you read his last text: “I can’t wait to come home to you. I just really need you right now.” A lump formed in your throat as you remembered the way you had shrugged him off of you earlier when he came home, and you regretted that you couldn’t even make the effort to show him any attention. You took a deep breath and pulled yourself off the couch, making your way to your bedroom to find Hyunjin. 

You quietly turned the door knob and pushed open the door to be greeted by the sight of a Hyunjin shaped lump under the covers, only his black tufts of hair peeking out. Your shoulders drooped at the sight of how vulnerable he looked tucked into bed like that, on his side curled into himself, and you hated that you weren’t there for him today. You tentatively made your way over to your side of the bed so as not to wake him and gently peeled back the covers to slip in beside him. You carefully shifted until you could wrap your arms around his sleeping form and press yourself closer into him. 

You wished you could make it up to him now, but it was too late, deciding that he’s had a long enough day and just needed the rest. You let the scent of his shampoo and the warmth of his body calm you as you thought of all the ways you could make it up to him in the morning. You leaned up to leave a light kiss on his shoulder before settling back down with your forehead resting against his back. You closed your eyes, ready to try to find some sleep of your own, but failing as you still felt unease in your chest. 

You were listening to Hyunjin’s steady breathing when you felt a gentle touch to your hand that was holding Hyunjin, and his raspy voice shattered the crushing silence, “y/n?” He said your name so quietly, but your heart still picked up speed. 

“It’s me, love. I’m here.” You whispered back softly, and he shifted in your arms to face you. The room was dark, but you could still make out Hyunjin’s round questioning eyes and full lips turned downwards at the corners. 

“I’m sorry for bothering you earlier today…” Hyunjin closed his eyes and exhaled shakily. 

“Love, no. You don’t need to be sorry. I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry, baby.” You reached out and caressed his face, but Hyunjin’s eyes remained closed. You went to retract your hand, but he brought his up to wrap around your wrist to keep your hand in place. 

You stayed like that in silence for a long moment, stroking your thumb over the smooth skin of his face while his thumb did the same with the back of your hand, and you waited for him to say something. When it seemed like he wasn’t going to, you started to speak up again, but you felt something wet on your thumb. 

“It’s my problem. I just keep fucking up,” Hyunjin said brokenly before more tears spilled down his cheeks. “At the company, with my members, and now you…” His brows were pinched tightly and his eyes were screwed shut, trying to get the tears to stop. 

You pulled him closer to you and stroked his hair, feeling your heart crack each time that his shoulders shook from crying. You clenched your jaw in an attempt to stop your own tears, but soon you were sniffling too. “No, love. That’s not true. You didn’t do anything wrong. I should’ve been there for you.” 

Hyunjin pulled away from where his face was buried in the crook of your neck to look up at you, “shit, are you crying too? Please don’t cry, my love.” He brushed away your tears while his own still dampened his face. 

“You needed me today. You needed me to tell you how much I love you and how proud I am of you. How you’re an amazing dancer and the company is wrong for what they did. I saw your routine, love, and I cannot fathom how you can be so talented.” You said all in one breath and continued, letting it pour from your heart while Hyunjin listened with bated breath. 

“Your moves were so powerful and every detail was perfect down to your facial expressions. Even the members knew how great it was which is why they all supported you the whole way. Don’t let the company’s greed determine your worth because they are blind. They can’t see that there are millions out there captivated by your talent and all your efforts.” 

Hyunjin’s eyes shined with tears and sparkled in the moonlight as he looked up at you, and his sad expression changed into a wobbly smile, “you really mean all of that?” He asked in a tiny voice that made him seem completely unshielded. 

“Of course I do, my love. I’m so sorry-” 

“You don’t have to be sorry either. You were stressed with university, and I should’ve realized that before disturbing you.” 

“I was stressed, but that’s not an excuse for snapping at you like that. You were just trying to take care of me, and I should’ve let you. You always know how to ease my mind and take my stress away, and I just want to do the same for you. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” 

Now Hyunjin was wearing a genuine smile that made his cheeks round and his eyes turn into crescent moons. Seeing him smile again caused your own heart to warm, and you could feel your breathing become steadier. “My love…” He pulled you close to him, closing the distance until you were both tangled together again. You were face to face on the same pillow now, and you could feel his breath ghost against your lips. “You don’t need to make it up to me. You’re all I want and need.” 

“Oh, my sweet romantic boy,” he giggled when you said that, and the beautiful sound ringing in your ears brought a smile to your face. “I’m still going to make it up to you because it’s important to me that you know how much I love you.” With that, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his soft plump ones. 

The kiss was slow at first, barely grazing each other's lips until you couldn’t take it any more, and you smashed into him. You gripped at his shirt to keep him close while his own hands made their way into your hair. He coaxed your mouth open with his own, quickly gaining access and continuing to deepen the kiss. You swallowed all of his delicious sighs, and he did the same with yours until you were both out of breath, not wanting to be the first one to pull away. 

You both were breathing heavily when you finally broke the kiss, and your eyes remained on the way his lips looked even more beautiful, swollen and shiny. You reached up and traced your thumb over them, and your eyes finally flickered up to meet his gaze watching you just as closely. “So, what did you have in mind for making it up to me?” Hyunjin finally spoke up, laughing breathily, and you laughed with him before leaning back in to finish what you started.

[pitchsidestories]

There is light at the end of the tunnel II Mary Earps x Reader

"I just want to say thank you so much to my loved ones who have picked me up off the kitchen floor to be here today, not specifically tonight but a few years ago. For anyone who has been in a dark place, just know there is light at the end of the tunnel, so keep going." ~ Mary Earps, The Best Fifa Football Awards 2023

masterlist I word count: 2121

disclaimer: description of depressive behavior but with happy ending

A few years ago…

“I can’t move from the floor.”, Mary announced to you over the phone. Her voice sounded uncharacteristically flat and emotionless. Deeply concerned you asked her:” Mary, are you okay?” “No.”, the goalkeeper numbly replied. This was it immediately you started to act:” I’m looking for flights right now. I can be in Wolfsburg in the evening. Babett will drive me to your place.”

“No. Don’t come only because of this.”, your girlfriend whispered. You sighed before explaining: “Mary, I’m not only coming because of that. You haven’t sound like your usual sunshine self for a while now.” “It’s nothing.”, she tried to shrug it off. But you just ignored her answer: “Your spare key is still hidden at the same place, right?” “Yes.” “Alright. See you in the evening.”, with these words you ended your phone call.

Only a couple of hours later you found yourself in Babet Peters car. From Marys teammate you wanted to know:” Babs, how is Mary doing? Please be honest with me.” “Honestly? I don’t know. She’s been isolating a lot later.”, she truthfully said. Worried you remarked:” That doesn’t sound like her at all.” “No, it’s not.”, the German agreed.

The rest of the car ride you spend without talking. As Babett reached the place the goalkeeper lived at you could not get out of the car quickly enough:” Thanks for driving me.” “Call if you need anything, okay?” Grateful you responded to the defenders offer:” Okay. See you.”

In a rush you picked up the spare key and let yourself into Mary’s appartement:” Mary?” “Kitchen.”, she stated, sounding very exhausted as if the announcement alone costed her a lot of energy. You tried to compensate that with a cheerful tone: “Hi, are you hungry? Do you want me to cook your favourite dish?” “No.”, slowly the goalkeeper shook her head.  

A sad expression appeared on your face as you repeated:“No?” “I’m not hungry.”, Mary said while she kept laying on the ground of the kitchen. The light in this room was as dimmed as the mood she was currently in.  

Concerned you looked up to the ceiling not trusting the bulb to keep on for a much longer time before turning your attention back to your girlfriend:” Have you eaten anything today.” “This morning.”, the goalkeeper declared annoyed by your concern of her eating.

With a sigh you gave up trying to bring routine back into your girlfriends life. It was obviously not the right time. In an attempt to be close to her while still giving her enough space, you laid down next to her on the kitchen floor. Patiently, you were waiting for Mary to spark the conversation again but she remained silent. You could see the thoughts racing behind her eyes as she kept staring at the ceiling.

Crossing your arms behind your head, you did the same; “To be fair, your kitchen ceiling does miss some glow-in-the-dark stars.“ “What for?“, Mary replied, her gaze still fixed straight in front of her. You turned your head towards her; “So you can see the light at the end of the tunnel.“ “What if there is no light?“, she countered bleakly, finally looking at you. You smiled softly; “There’s always one. Trust me.“ Carefully, you took her hand in yours, guided it towards your lips and softly pressed a kiss onto her knuckles. Just that little motion made the tears in Marys eyes well up again.

She shook her had, barely noticeable; “But maybe it’s not in football.“ You frowned, finally understanding the reason for her misery. “You have all the options, Mary, but I think you’re not done with football yet…“ “I’m not getting called up for the national team anymore. I’m barely playing here.“, she explained with desperation in her voice. “Love, this is not the end. Even if it might feel like it at the moment.“. You put a hand on your girlfriends tear-stained cheek. “No, you don’t understand…“, she replied bleakly, not turning away from your touch yet. She seemed horribly exhausted. “Explain it to me.“, you pleaded.

The words came bubbling out immediately; “I have a mortgage to pay off. I’m not making enough money with football. Especially when I’m not playing anymore.“ “Hey, I can help you out…“, you offered, but Mary shook her head; “I don’t want help. I’m benched here, I wasn’t called up for the lionesses again. I don’t know why I’m even doing this anymore.“ She was visibly upset, so you tried your best to keep your voice calm and soothing; “It’s not weak to get help, Mary.“ “That’s not the problem. I just don’t want to feel as useless anymore as I do now!“ You flinched involuntarily, hearing her talk about herself like that; “Mary, you’re never useless.“

“Easy to say.“, she mumbled, her voice now thick with tears. You sighed, momentarily running out of words of comfort; “I know.““It just.. it feels like all effort is worthless. I’m working my ass off and I’m still not good enough.”, the goalkeeper tried to put her feelings into words. These self-destructive words from the person you loved the most made you shook your head determinedly: “No, you’re always good enough.”

“Stop that.”, Mary begged you. Confused you glanced at her:” Stop what?” “Telling me that.”, she answered in an earnest tone. Reluctantly you said:” Okay.” “Thanks.”, your girlfriend let out a shaky breath.  “You’re welcome.” Desperate Mary announced: “I just feel like shit.”

“Maybe we should start move you into your bed.”, you thought out loud.  The taller woman who felt like all of her energy had left her body, asked you: “Why?” “Because the floor is really uncomfortable, don’t you agree?”, you wanted to know from her, a weak smile on her lips. A laugh escaped the goalkeeper’s mouth which warmed your heart:” I think it’s quite nice.” “Really?”, sceptically you threw up an eyebrow. An amused grin was slowly appearing on Marys face:“Don’t you think?” “No.”, you disagreed sternly. “Fine then.”, your girlfriend gave in.

Carefully you stood up before you helped the goalkeeper up aswell: “I think I’ll start cooking something for us.” “Wait. I’ll help.”, Mary offered her assistance, a bit of her usual self was glimpsing through her sadness. With a shy smile you pressed a kiss on to her cheek:”Thanks.” “You’re welcome.”

Quickly you cooked something, and you were relieved about the fact that your girlfriend was able to eat a bit of it despite everything. After the dinner you noticed your girlfriends, cheek turning red as they always did when she got tired or played:” Time for bed?” “Sure.”, Mary could not suppress a yawn during her reply.  

Only a few minutes later you found yourself in your girlfriend’s bed, your head was resting on her broad chest, the beating of her heart was a comforting sound in your ears especially tonight.

Cautiously Mary started:” So..?” “Yes?”, you lifted your head to look into her beautiful eyes who were still a little red from all the crying earlier. Carefully she continued:” You think it’s not time to quit football yet?” “I don’t.”, you answered confidently. Truth be told you did not know why you were so certain about this but your heart told you that there was still so much more for her in store as a goalkeeper.

Mary took a deep breath, trying to calm herself; “Maybe you’re right.“ “Also, you never give up so easily…“, you said which caused your girlfriend to frown. “I don’t think it’s easily. I’ve been playing for years.“, she stated. “That’s true.“ “But I’m not going anywhere.“, she finished with a sigh. Fresh sympathy for your girlfriend washed over you. You gently squeezed her hand. “I’m proud of you. You know that, right?“ “I do. And I’m grateful for where I am. But you know I always want to be better.“, Mary admitted. “I do.“ She rubbed her free hand over her face; “It’s just hard to balance everything.“ “But you’re so good at balancing.“, you replied. “But sometimes the whole thing just tips over…“, she continued, letting her hand fall from her face.

You smiled to yourself; “You mean like me when I spill yet another drink with my clumsiness?“ “Basically.“, Mary answered, returning the smile. Your heart skipped a beat, seeing her face light up again. “And you have great team mates here.“ “I do.“ Her face turned serious again, the small moment gone again. You watched her for a moment, debating if it was the right time to ask her. Nervously, you asked; “What do you think about if I moved here to Wolfsburg?“ “What?“ Marys expression was unreadable, so you just shrugged; “You heard me.“ “Seriously?“ “Yes, I’m serious about it.“

Your girlfriend stared at you, her mouth agape while you waited for an answer. “I would prefer to go back to England if I get the chance…“, Mary revealed sheepishly. Taken aback by the news, you plainly answered; “That would be great.“ “I want to be closer to you and my family again. Maybe that would help.“, she explained. You nodded empathetically. This did make sense now. “I’m sure it will.“ There were a few moments of silence between you.

Apparently you both needed to let this conversation settle. With a slight look of relief, Mary turned to you; “Thanks for coming though.“ “No worries.“, you replied, blinking against the tiredness that suddenly came over you. Mary let out a breath that was half a sigh and half a laugh; “A lot of worries actually. But you not having my back definitely isn’t one of them.“ “I’ll always have your back. I promise.“, you replied, suppressing a yawn. “I know that.“ Mary smiled softly while running a hand through your hair. Your heavy eye lids closed at the touch; “Sleep well, Mary.“ “You too, love.“, she whispered.

Years later that scene faded into the background of your mind but during Mary’s The Best Fifa Football Awards speech for the best goalkeeper it brought the old, sad memory back to life. She had such a low point in her career aswell as in her personal life in Wolfsburg which people tended to forget because of the major success your now wife recently had. Winning the Euros last summer was the icing on the cake.  The words Mary was able to find to remind people that there was always a light at the end of the tunnel moved you to tears.

Amused Lucy Bronze glanced at you:” Are you crying because of your wife’s speech?” “Oh, shut up, Lucy. It was really a tough time to her back when in Wolfsburg.”, you replied with a sad smile. Still the defender kept teasing:“Can’t believe you’d be crying.” “Those are proud tears.”, you pointed out to her. A huge grin was on the dark haired woman face:“Oh, they are?” “Of course.”, you laughed while you tried to wipe away the upcoming tears. Clearing her throat Lucy demanded from you as she saw your wife coming back to join you two:“Stop crying.”

 ” Lucy, did you make my wife cry?!”, Mary yelled smiling at her England teammate. Quickly the defender shouted back:“You made her cry!” “Because of your beautiful speech.”, you explained the goalkeeper. An apologetic smile was forming on her lips:“I’m sorry.”  “You deserve to win this so much Mary.”, you softly shook your head. Touched Mary answered: “Thanks. But I wouldn’t have done it without you.” “You’re welcome.” “Who knew how fast things can change.”, she reminisced. In a low voice you agreed:“Very true.” “Come here.”, Mary requested. Quickly you followed her demand as you gave her a kiss which you hoped transmitted how proud you were of her. Close to your ear the goalkeeper whispered a sincere:” Thank you.”

The cute moment between only the two of you was interrupted by Beth Mead who immediately pulled your wife into a hug:” Well done, Mearps.”  “Thanks, girls.”, Mary beamed at her teammates. Meanwhile Vivianne Miedema couldn’t help but to add :” At least one right person won tonight. Beth should have gotten the prize not Alexia Putellas.”  “Viv, stop.”, her girlfriend was eyerolling at her. This made Lucy choose the dutch forward’s side:” No, I agree with your girlfriend. As much as I like Alexia.”

Still this did not dimmer Beth’s celebratory mood:”Come on girls, it’s time to party!” “Yes, come on, love.”, Mary turned to you enthusiastically.  Excited you let her take your hand: “Can’t wait to start dancing with you.”

The goalkeeper winked at you:” Hope you’re ready for it.” As you were making your way on to the dance floor you replied cheerfully:” With you? Always.” Let the good times roll in.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unexpected 43

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, pegging, Lloyd being the worst, post partum, csection, suicidial ideation, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

Andy arrives like a vision of Prince Charming. It’s like one of those romcoms you roll your eyes at. He’s not overdressed, just a tidy button up and slacks, his hair combed and beard trimmed. He is casually handsome, meanwhile you feel like a hog in a dress.

Dottie’s enthusiasm irks you as she answers the door. You sweep by her, no purse, no phone, only some money tucked into your dress. You’re not a charity case, this isn’t a prom date, this is pity for the depressed old woman you’ve become.

“Come on,” you pass Andy and his voice bobble uncertainly as he lets out several syllables without forming a full worm. He only manages a hurried farewell to your mother-in-law before shuffling after you.

“Um, here, let me,” he’s almost running to get past you. He opens the car door and you don’t spare him a look. 

You pause and stare at the interior, “we don’t have to go anywhere nice. You could just drive me out to the industrial park for some peace and quiet.”

He scoffs. Not a vicious sound, rather amused, “well, I’d hate to waste the reservation, so maybe we can sit outside the pillow factory after.”

You inhale and glance over at him. Just at the top button of his shirt. You nod and get in. You don’t have the energy for any of this, let alone an argument.

You sit stiffly in the seat as he closes the door with a soft click. You buckle in and lean your elbow on the groove of the door. You watch through the window as he gets in on the other side and fiddles around. Finally the engine hums, stoking the sparks in your mind. Wouldn’t it be nice if you never came back?

He pulls out through the gate and onto the street. The suburban streets have a sinister glint. You wonder if there are any others like you. Surely you’re not the only woman to discover the true imprisonment of motherhood. Money can’t buy happiness and all that, but you’re not sure there’s any such thing.

You’re quiet. You don’t have much to say. You spend your days with a little human that can’t speak or understand you, and a woman who talks too much and refuses to hear you.

“So, how’s the little one?” Andy asks.

You grumble and lean your chin in your hand, feeling the vibration of the engine in your ears. You shrug, “do we have to talk about her?”

“Sorry, I guess… I get it. You want to feel like an adult again. No one asks about you– hey, why don’t you sit back?” He suggests, “kinda awkward talking to the back of your head.”

You sigh and lean back slowly. You keep your arm bent into the door, your eyes set through the windshield. Andy’s grip tightens on the wheel as he swallows loudly, clearing his throat.

“Look, it’s been a while, but I remember what it was like. Your whole world revolves around this tiny little person and you forget who you are–”

“And what did you do, Andy?” You challenge, “were you breastfeeding? Were you sstuck in the house all day with a squirming infant attached to you? Were you bleeding and stretched out, deformed into nothing more than a used incubator–”

“No, I guess not,” he sniffs, “I was still working. Had to keep things running–”

“So valiant,” you grumble and he sucks in another sharp breath. You wince. You don’t want to be the bitch. You don’t want to think about the baby or her father or the nosy grandmother. You are out of that house, if only for a little, and you want to enjoy that. “Look, sorry, I… I’m a little rusty in the social department right now. It’s not you, and I appreciate you wasting your time trying to distract you. I’m sorry Dottie talked you into this.”

“Talked me into… no, I offered. Yeah, I know when, er, my wife was going through a rough patch, we talked, she started having days out, on her own, you know, with friends, so she could remember her old life. Maybe even keep some of it,” he explains as he steers, “and I’m not really doing you a favour, you’re doing me one.”

“Am I?” You snort, “how so?”

“Well, I don’t really have an excuse like you but I don’t go out. I don’t talk to people. I don’t do any of this, so you and me, we’re a lot more alike than you think.”

You chew on his words, on the underlying grimness in his voice. You feel a strike of guilt for your callowness. You’re wallowing in the anger of your plight, meanwhile he’s grieving memories of the same. He had a child he loved and lost them. He doesn’t deserve that pain. He isn’t wrong, you are different sides of the same coin.

“Yeah, we are,” you admit, “so you won’t mind if I forget my manners?”

“Not at all,” he chuckles, the tension rattling in his throat, “I didn’t book us a five-star table or anything, I hope that’s okay.”

“Please, I never fit in at those ridiculous places,” you pull your arm away from the door and ease back, just a little, “I had a pump before I left so as long as there’s drinks, I’m game.”

🍑

Your appetite remains finicky, you only eat half your meal and take the rest to go. However, your thirst sees you ordering three mimosas with your lunch. At the end, Andy pays, after a rather heated argument over the check. His insistence wins over as your indifference lands the final hit.

You wonder, as you come out of the restaurant, how someone like Andy, someone nice and thoughtful, could have been dealt such a shitty hand. The cruel twist of his life reminds you of Lloyd and how he was never met with the karma of his callous behaviour. The contrast assures you that the world is not a fair place, and makes you feel worse that you brought another life into it.

You’re tipsy as you get into the car. You try to shake away the ripples, suppressing a belch that threatens to break free. Andy settles into the driver’s side and glances over at you as he idles in the spot.

“You good?” He asks as you buckle in, balancing your takeaway in one hand.

“I’m great,” you say, “I… I maybe had one mimosa too many.”

“We can find somewhere to grab some water,” he offers.

“No, no,” you wave him off, smiling. It’s the alcohol, you know it, but it feels good. You can’t remember the last time you smiled. “I’m fine, promise. I can make it home.”

“Well, let me know,” he shifts gears and checks the rearview camera as he backs out, “I don’t mind making a pitstop.”

You thank him quietly and let your attention drift out the window. Your mind wanders with the aimlessness of alcohol, swirling up dredges of the past. Andy drives slowly, as if indulging your silent reverie for the city streets, and you flinch as he passes a familiar building.

You reach over and grab his arm without thinking. He taps the break, “what is it?”

You gulp and shake your head. Your eyes gloss up as you stare at the building you used to clean in, the one where your ex-husband worked. Probably, still does. Your lip trembles and you bite down on it to make it stop.

“Can you take me somewhere?” You whisper as you retract your hand.

“Sure, just tell me where to go,” he agrees.

You point him onward, down the next corner, and another. You take him on the same path you used to drive daily. There’s a pall cast over both of you as you direct him down the side street and ask him to stop along the curb.

You grip your knees, eyes stuck between your feet. You don’t know if you can look. You take a breath and steel yourself. You make yourself turn your head and you take in the facade of the duplex you once shared with Colin. You see the sign in the yard; for rent. He’s leaving. You’re almost surprised he stayed that long.

You sit there, speechless, just staring. The trance holds you. You see yourself in the driveway, laughing as you carry boxes up, bubbly and excited for your home. Then those nights where you came out in your uniform, kissing him goodbye before you marched off to your shift. The days when you would enjoy the sunshine before you slept, watering the garden, mostly weeds, and just bask in the routine. That’s all gone. It doesn’t feel like it ever was.

The side door opens and see him. Colin walks with shoulders slumped, his tie askew as he shrugs on a jacket. He reaches into his pocket and the tail lights flash on the car in the driveway. You sink down and shield your face behind your hand.

“Please, let’s go,” you croak.

Andy doesn’t ask. Not why, or who, or what. He just accepts it and puts his foot on the gas, pulling away lazily, hiding in plain sight as he continues down to the end of the street.

“I don’t want to go back yet,” you say.

“How about a movie?” Andy offers, “I’m sure there’s something good playing.”

“Sure,” you agree, eager for any excuse to stay out, to detach yourself from the life Lloyd chose for you.

[softlysuga]

satan's sweetheart [ch. 1]

You’re a demon. One day, you’re summoned into a living room, and an exhausted woman quickly rambles about needing to get to work and being unable to find a sitter before flying out the door. Now, you stand in your summoning circle, a toddler staring wide eyed at you.

pairing: taehyung x female demon!reader genre: fluff, crack, smut (but in the other chapters) rating: pg-13 wc: 2.7k

warnings: mentions of the underworld, death (like the Reaper), pagan activities? i mean the woman literally summons a demon LOL

note: prompt is by @writing-prompt-s! i thought it was actually fcking hilarious and half the time i was writing i was like wtf is this LOL also thank you to @jtrbluv for beta reading! my d1 tumblr moot ₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ ♡.°₊ˎˊ˗

-> let me know if you want me to make a taglist for this fic or any other fics :)

There’s a tugging sensation at your stomach, and your lips curl into a smile. 

A summoning. Finally. 

Relaxing, you let the sorcery of the summoning whisk you away from your dwelling and hear the familiar pop in your ears as you enter the human realm. Dust setting, you open your eyes, hoping to feast your eyes on your next meal. 

“Who dares to summon—” you boom in your demonic form, clouds of smoke entering the room and a glow of evil cloaking your figure. Of course, it’s all theatrics.  

But…

“I’m so sorry, I tried calling for a babysitter but no one was free,” a frazzled-looking woman interrupts, “and I know, you’re probably like, well, can’t you ask family—”

The woman scrambles to find her keys and belongings, slowly lugging her bag to a door. You stand a few feet away in the middle of a summoning star adorned with a few candles and eerie-looking symbols. There’s an offering of fruits and leftover Halloween candy, along with an edition of the Grand Grimoire. 

“—and I did! I asked Taehyung to come over, that brat, always shirking from his responsibilities, but he said he’s in the middle of a basketball game? Can you believe him? I had asked him to a month ago, and he still managed to forget! Ugh, younger brothers. Anyway, it’s not like I can ask my parents because they’re dead.” 

Surprised, you cut the theatrics and unwind into your natural form. “I mean, Old Reaper spares no one,” you chuckle, shooing away the clouds and lightning. “He’s kind of a nasty fellow, that one. Always so grumpy.”  

The woman freezes, one hand in the midst of putting on a shoe. She turns around, stunned. “You changed.” 

You frown. “Did you expect me to stay in that form forever? It’s actually quite energy-draining— I much prefer this one.” You look down at yourself, confirming that you’re in the correct form. “I mean, I can turn myself into a cat if you would like. Or an elephant, if you’re really feeling up for it. I would be quite loud, though.” 

You’re not quite sure what humans do or do not know. Usually, summonings are quick and short, usually ending with you feasting on the souls of the summoners or the immediate banishing. But this isn’t the usual summoning; there are no teenage kids screaming for their mothers, nor men wrapped in capes who think they’ve found their calling. 

A clatter draws your attention away from the woman and you find a toddler tucked away in a high chair. The child couldn’t have been more than two years old, teething on a strawberry with the remnants of its breakfast laid out in front of her. An oatmeal-covered spoon is on the ground next to the chair. 

Stepping out from the pentagram, you wave your hand and the spoon flies off the ground and lands on the high chair. The child gurgles in delight, grabbing the spoon and throwing it off yet again. 

“This child seems to lack intelligence,” you observe, spinning back to the woman. “Why would it throw the spoon back down? I thought you humans liked using them.” 

The woman unfreezes with a start and continues putting on her shoes. “W-well, you know how toddlers are, always doing something you don’t want them to.” She adjusts herself before putting a hand on the doorknob. “I’ll be back in a few hours, it will be a very quick grocery trip. I just need some…peace.” 

I raise an eyebrow. “You want me to look after your offspring?” 

“Just for a bit. I’ll be back in a jiffy, alright?” She opens the door and steps out. “There’s food in the fridge for her, diapers are in the drawer under her crib. Just keep her unharmed and alive.” 

And just like that, she’s gone and you’re left with a human baby with a distaste for spoons. You look at the child again in curiosity. Tight, chestnut curls are tied up in two pigtails and her chubby cheeks are stained with strawberry juice. You gently pull at a curl, watching it bounce back into place after you release. 

The child notices this and places your finger into her mouth, gently gnawing on it while cautiously measuring your response. 

“Silly child,” you reprimand gently, pulling your finger back. “That’s not food; if you eat my hand, you’ll get dysentery.”

You snap your fingers and conjure a little black binky for her to gnaw on instead. “Here.” You stuff the binky into the child’s mouth and after a bit of confusion, the toddler starts chewing on it contentedly. 

A smirk crosses your face. “How curious. I wonder what else I could do to you…” 

You sense the presence of another soul before you hear the jingling of keys. They’re inserted into the door, and it opens with a swing. 

“Addie? I’m here— sorry about the wait, the game ran a little long…”

You observe the new figure, a man, clumsily take off his shoes and shove them in the shoe rack. He stumbles towards the living room, dropping a bag off by the couch. 

“Addie?” 

“Are you looking for the child?” you murmur. The man freezes. 

“She’s in her jail,” you continue, floating down from your perch on the ceiling. “I suppose you would call it a crib. The child seemed to grow tired of our games, so I put her to sleep. Temporarily of course— I’m not the reaper.” 

Softly landing on the carpet, you stare at the man’s shocked features, seemingly frozen in time. You tilt your head in confusion. “Well, don’t be too worried. She’ll wake up whenever she feels the need to. I just…coerced her into a nap. It’s not like I can do much else.” 

You extend a hand. “You must be Taehyung. The tired woman mentioned you.” 

Taehyung glanced down at your hand and slowly reached for it. Shaking it, he gulps, “Wh-what? Who?” 

He points from your perch on the ceiling to you. “What?” 

“Oh, that,” you wave towards your previous spot. “I’m just more comfortable that way. It’s usually how I lounge in Erebus but I thought it would make you too uncomfortable to see me like that.”

“Erebus?” He whispers. “Is that like…the underworld?” 

You shrug. “Yes and no. It’s more like another dimension, really,” you say, inspecting his face. “You seem to be sweating. I forgot how temperamental humans are.” 

You chuckle. “It's a little hot in here for you, isn’t it? I tend to run a little warm and the heat might be radiating into the room.”

A bead of sweat drips off Taehyung’s temples and he swipes at it, unfreezing himself. “Oh, I-I guess? I mean, now that you mention it, it’s a little warm.” He shakily looks you up and down. “What are you even? A demon? Oh my God there’s a fucking demon in Adeline’s house…” 

“Ah, so Lily is the child,” you muse. “So Addie— or Adeline, I suppose— must be the mother.” Swooping past Taehyung, you ignore his noises of disbelief. Landing on the kitchen counter, you pour him a glass of water. “She’s in her jail, like I said.”

You beckon a chair to follow you, instructing it to sweep Taehyung into it. He’s pale as a sheet, scrambling onto the chair as he lands in front of you. You hand him the water. “Sip.” 

He obeys, gulping down the water. After he finishes, you take the glass back while he looks at you warily. 

“Why are you here?” he asks, clearly uncomfortable. “You’re not from this world, are you?” 

“No, I’m not. Adeline summoned me to become her babysitter around an hour ago, and she simply left me with her offspring,” you snort. “You humans always do the funniest things.” 

“Wait, what?” 

“I mean, hey, good for her for summoning a blank demon— class III nonetheless! Very baby-safe, I can assure you.” 

Taehyung’s brows furrow. “Addie…summoned you?” 

“That’s what I said, didn’t I?” You chuckle. “At first I was as confused as you are right now, but she quite literally said ‘care for my baby, demon! I will be back’ and left,” you air-quote with your hands. “Said something about being unable to find a babysitter, and I was curious enough about the little one to stay for a while.” 

“So you’re not…stuck here?” 

“Well, no,” you roll your eyes. “I can leave whenever I want. Just how you can leave and enter a door,” you gesture towards the hall, “I can leave and enter this dimension. The summoning just thrusts me here against my will. I can go back whenever I want.” 

“Oh.” 

There’s a bit of a silence as Taehyung collects his thoughts. You listen to the buzz of the refrigerator and the quiet ‘tick-tocks’ of the grandfather clock down the hall; you’re surprised how soothing the monotonous noises are. Maybe the humans are onto something. 

Glancing back at Taehyung, he seemed to relax a little. He fiddles with his hoodie string, gnawing at the end. “Wait so, you won’t hurt us? You said something about being baby-safe.” 

You chuckle. “Yes, I’m very baby-safe. I’m a blank, class III demon. Blank— as in I haven’t developed into a specialty yet— and class III— meaning I’m equipped with the bare minimum of demonic powers.” You shrug. “So yeah, I can do things like make you fly or summon existing objects, but not much else. I’m more of a spirit, really. At least for now.” 

“Huh.” 

Suddenly, you sense a shift in the air and you glance over to the baby monitor on the fridge. Taehyung follows your gaze and jumps up. “Oh, Lily’s awake!” 

He looks over at you, albeit a little warily, and slowly starts walking towards Lily’s room. “Don’t move,” he instructs, pointing a finger at you. “Or else.” 

You put your hands up. “Alright,” you giggle. “How scary!”

Ironic. 

Taehyung glares at you and disappears into the hall. He comes back a few minutes later carrying little Lily in his arm, one hand wiping the drool off of her face. Her eyes light up when she sees you. 

“Puff!” she squeals, reaching for you with two hands. Taehyung holds her back, confused. She’s squirming in his arms, trying to peel away. She whines in annoyance.

You smile. “Yes, child. Puff.” 

A wave of your hand conjures little soot sprites out of the air, the dust bunnies blinking in surprise. The jingle of their movements delight Lily, making her clap as they float down towards her. They scatter around her as she makes attempts to snatch them with her chubby hands. Taehyung keeps her just shy of doing so, though, and it frustrates her. 

“What are they?” he asks, concerned. “Are they your pets or something?”

“They’re soot sprites,” you say softly, waving your hand again and they disappear. Perhaps you should’ve warned Taehyung. “They’re quite harmless, really. Usually residing in abandoned country homes, they’re magical creatures made of soot. They don’t do much but work and exist.” 

Lily wails in dismay as the creatures disappear. You smile apologetically. “I was using them to entertain the child before you got here,” you explain, “which is how she’s so familiar with them. It got her a little dirty, but she seemed to like them enough.” 

“Huh. Cool, I guess.” 

You look over at Taehyung, a little surprised at his reaction. It seems like he’s opening up to some of your antics, which makes you smile a little. 

“Do you mind if I conjure them again?” you ask. “For…Lily.” 

You’re trying to get used to calling the child by her name. 

He nods and places the child on the couch, where you bring the little sprites back. Lily’s eyes widen and she instinctively reaches for them as they float around, surprised once again. 

You and Taehyung both watch her in a comfortable silence, but you can still hear Taehyung’s wheels turning. 

“You know, you can just ask,” you start. 

“Hm?” 

You shrug. “I dunno. It’s not like you see a demon every day, let alone have a demon babysit your niece.” 

He chuckles softly. “Yeah, I guess so. I’m just trying to process it a little, but I’m just glad you aren’t sent here to hurt us.” 

“It’s not like I could if I wanted to, anyway,” you add. “It’s kind of a development-slash-hierarchy thing. Kind of like your version of puberty? Long story.” 

Taehyung’s lips quirk up. “What do you mean?” 

Before you can answer, though, you hear a jingling of keys and the woman from before swings the door open, shuffling her bags in. She looks around, eyes landing on you and Taehyung. 

“Tae!” she exclaims while shutting the door. She turns back to face you two, walking towards the living room. “And…the demon…-ess? Demoness?” 

“Demon is fine,” you affirm. 

She smiles warily and turns her attention to Taehyung and slaps him on the shoulder. 

“Ow,” he winces, “what was that for?” 

“That,” she starts, swatting away the sprites and picking up her child, “is for neglecting your babysitting duties which ultimately led me to summon a demon.” 

She glances at you. “No offense.” 

“None taken.” 

“But you summoned her yourself!” he splutters in defense. “Freedom of choice and everything—” 

“Don’t even start,” she interrupts, glaring daggers. 

You whistle. “This woman is scarier than me, Taehyung. I would watch out if I were you.” You glance at Adeline. “No offense.” 

She winces. “None taken.” 

“Well, it looks like my services here aren’t needed anymore,” you clap your hands and the soot sprites disappear. Lily frowns. “Not that it was something I expected, but it was kind of fun.” 

Adeline turns to you and smiles softly. “Thank you for everything— I know it was a bit of an inconvenience, but I’m very glad that it turned out how it did. Please come back anytime you want.” 

You laugh. “I’m not sure if I’ll take you up on your offer— I have a lot of training to do back in Erebus— but thank you anyway. Your offspring, Lily, was quite enjoyable.” 

You wave to little Lily— who waves back— and you start walking towards the door for a more “natural” approach to leaving. 

“Wait, hold on.”

You turn around and Taehyung catches up to you. “Are you never coming back?” 

You shrug. “Unless there’s another summoning or if I have a personal reason to. Summonings are tricky, though, it’s a gamble on which demon you’ll get. It runs on an internal lottery system for all demons, so I wouldn’t bet on your chances.” 

He deflates. “Ah.” 

“Maybe you’ll see me, maybe you won’t.” You smile. “It was nice knowing you, though. I’ve learned more about humans today than I ever had at the academy.” 

Taehyung furrows his brows in confusion, but before he has a chance to say anything, you’ve snapped your fingers and disappeared. 

Like before, you let the winds whisk you back to Erebus and you enter with a pop, feet landing on the soft carpet of your room. Glancing at the window, you notice the blood moon starting to rise and your roommate stirs in her sleep. 

Interesting, you think, shaking your head as your horns grow back. You touch them to make sure they’ve come out properly and your wings also make an appearance, the dainty gossamer erupting from your back as you stretch. 

A sigh of relief leaves you as you settle into your own bed, thinking back at what happened. You’ll surely have to go to the Dean tomorrow to explain your absence, but it shouldn’t be something you’re punished for. These summonings are growing more common so quite a few students have been missing this week—  but it’s not something the administration is worried about…yet. 

You roll over to your side, remembering the look on the woman’s face. She was calm for a human— too calm maybe— when she summoned you. Grumbling in confusion, you think. Maybe they’re getting too comfortable with contacting the demonic dimension. 

But you fondly remember how Taehyung’s reaction was much more standard, and you chuckle recalling his sheer fright at the concept of Erebus.

He almost reminded you of a puppy. 

“How cute,” you murmur. 

Yawning, you make a mental note to go to the mortal realm more often. It could do you some good. 

Eyes heavy, you close them and everything goes black.  

[allysunny]

Holo Heart | Miguel O'Hara x Fem!Reader

Synopsys: Haunted by the loss of his wife, Miguel decides to take matters into his own hands, and grant himself the second chance he's been wishing for.

Words: 7.7k

Warnings: Angst, sad Miguel, mentions of blood, character death, suggestive themes (just a smidge, really), do mention if I've missed anything!

A/N: Hey guys! So, I've been mostly a reader in here, but the other day I was doing dishes and this idea sort of popped in my head, and I thought about sharing it with all of you! English is not my first language so I'd like to apologize in advance for any mistakes. I also have not spoken Spanish in a few years, so, once again, I apologize for any spelling or grammar mistakes.

I haven't written in a while, and this is my first tumblr fic, so please be gentle! But I'd love to read your thoughts and criticism in the comments :) I also tried to make this super inclusive, so aside from the reader being a woman, there's no specifications of hair, skin tone, ethnicity, etc. I hope you like it!

Miguel has always prided himself in being a smart man, one who always made sure to achieve his goals, and do it efficiently. 

He created the Spider Society, made sure the canon was intact, and carried the weight of the world in his shoulders. It was hard, but he made it work. In fact, he had to. He’d already lost so much; he couldn’t afford to lose more.

Which was why he couldn’t take risks. Every task was carefully calculated, every mission was deliberately planned, every meeting brief and straight to the point. The more time he could spend inside his office, planning, scheming, strategizing, making sure everything went exactly according to plan, the better.

But unfortunately, it wasn’t that simple, and human nature had other plans for him.

All those late nights working all by himself with no one other than Lyla and at least half a dozen coffee cups beside him were taking a toll on his mental health. As much as Miguel enjoyed spending time by himself (it was impossible to spend time in the company of other Spider-People for more than a few minutes before the need to excuse himself and sigh became too strong. Do not let him get started on Peter B. Parker. Please.), he was starting to miss human interaction more and more.

But not just any human interaction.

Looking over at his watch, Miguel registered the glowing light that alerted him of his loneliness once again. 03:47 am. Working late until exhaustion had become a frequent occurrence after the accident. It was his own way of dealing with the pain, with all the grief. It made him forget, and the everlasting numbness in his chest heart go away, if only for a few hours.

Miguel sighed, running a hand through his face. His muscles felt tight, the knots in his back and shoulders ever so present. He slumped back in his chair and leaned his hair back, taking all of the exhaustion in.

“You okay boss?” Lyla asked, flickering right beside his head. The AI could get on his nerves more often than not, but Miguel was glad it seemed to care about him. Well, sure, he’d programmed it that way, but occasionally even he needed a small check-up. It kept him sane.

“Yeah, sure,” His voice was just above a whisper, and yet it was still as commanding and assertive as always. “I think I’m done for the day.”

“Oh wow, you think? They don’t call you a genius for nothing!” Miguel winced at the perkiness of her voice. Sometimes he forgot tiring Lyla out wasn’t a possibility. She was an AI and therefore had energy to spare. He waved her off quickly, and with a small salute, she flickered away, leaving Miguel alone with his thoughts once again.

After a few quiet moments, he turned to the black screens in front of him.            

“I shouldn’t…” Was the thought that crossed his mind. He knew it was wrong. He knew what happened whenever he turned those screens on, when he turned them on with the purpose of reliving old memories.

But before he could even acknowledge what he’d done, the whole lab was engulfed in bright lights, accompanied by soft surrounding background noise.   

Defeated, he looked up at them, eyes filled with something between longing and adoration, a mix reserved for only one person.

“Ladies and gentlemen of Nueva York, look who it is!” Although the phone’s camera was turned to him, it was your voice making itself heard. The voice he adored so much, the only voice he could stand to hear for hours on end, the voice he would give anything to listen to once again.

The Miguel in the video was dressed in a fine black suit, an emerald handkerchief adorning his breast pocket. His hair was neatly styled back, allowing for his “godly sculpted cheekbones” (your words, not his) to be shown in all its glory. He was standing inside your old bedroom, fixing his attire in front of a wall length mirror.

“Cariño, won’t you turn that off?” He grumbled softly, turning to face the camera. Although his voice had a tinge of annoyance to it, his lips were quick to betray him, curling up in a soft smile.

Your angelic chuckle boomed through the room, and Miguel’s breath hitched.

There you were.

Draped in a light-coloured green silk dressed that perfectly flattered your figure, hugging you in all the right places, your hair carefully brushed to the side. You smiled, positioning the phone on top of your vanity, making sure it wouldn’t fall. Once you were sure of its security, you made your way to him, tilting your head to the side.

“It’s not my fault my husband is so devilishly handsome!” Your hand reached out to hold his arm, nudging him towards the phone’s periphery. He rolled his eyes, pretending to be tired of your antics, but his arm snaked around your waist instinctively, giving it a gentle tug. A reminder that he was there with you. No matter what, he would always be there.

No matter what.

“Don’t you look dashing, Mr. O’Hara?” Your smile. Miguel would give anything to see it in person again. He’d do anything to have you smile at him like you always did one more time. Like he was the only person that existed, that mattered. Your smile had always been capable of lighting up a whole room. In fact, you were capable of that, all by yourself. Your kindness, your optimism, your drive and ambition. People were naturally drawn to you – the fact you were nothing short of stunning was only a bonus. In fact, you had made Miguel experience what jealousy felt like for the first time. The ugly feeling had gnawed and gnawed at him, eating him up from the inside every time a cheeky coworker got too close for comfort, complimenting your “beautiful eyes”, or bold friends pulled you close by the waist, trying all sorts of plans to get their hands on you.

But you’d never really needed him to call him out. You could take care of yourself just fine, and that’s one of the things Miguel most loved about you. Sure, he relished in the feeling of protecting you. Of putting his arms around your figure and engulfing you in his presence, his hold being the only place no harm could ever even get a glimpse of you. But he couldn’t help the smirk that crawled up his face whenever you rejected any other men’s advances, swatting their hands off you and giving them dead stares.

The him on the screen chuckled, pressing you close against him, his frame towering over you. He bent down slightly, nuzzling his face against your hair. Another gesture he did without thinking – it was something that brought him peace. Your scent felt like home, the sweet aroma of your favourite shampoo bringing him instant relief.

“Si alguien aqui es diabolicamente hermosa, eres tú, Mrs. O’Hara.” Screen-Miguel brought his lips to your ear, and the way your whole body shuddered made him chuckle. That, and the way your cheeks took on a soft glow. “Now, what is all this?” He glanced at the camera once again, quirking up an eyebrow.

“You know my Spanish isn’t that good yet…” The pout on your lips was just too adorable – it took Miguel (screen one or not) all his strength not to whisk you in his arms and capture your lips with his. “Anyways, just wanted to capture this moment.” You shrug, hands wandering around to pinch his side. Your husband’s squeal would have been unnoticeable by anyone else – but not you. Not you, whom he showed his softer side to, not you, whom he showered with love and tenderness, whose ground he worshipped. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you, you know.” One would almost miss the way your voice cracked, but a slight waver was enough for Miguel and his screen counterpart to frown.

“I know… I’m sorry corazón. I really am…” Screen-Miguel turned you towards him, brushing the hair out of your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek. Staring into your eyes, Miguel could swear you had this magical ability to make him lose all track of time. In fact, he could swear that was true in about everything you did. When you got dressed in the morning, when you cooked his favourite empanadas, when you told him off whenever he was too hard on himself or others around him, when you cried out his name so nicely, his lips on your neck-

“But today’s all about you, alright? I’ll make up for it. I promise.” His lips brushed your temple, not only a promise to you, but himself. His work in the Spider Society had been piling up. Anomalies on top of anomalies, mistakes after mistakes, and only himself to take care of everything. He’d left you waiting for him more than once, and more than once he’d found you asleep by the time he got back. It hurt him deeply every time it happened. In fact, the last time it happened, your pillow had tear stains on him.

To say such sight had broken his heart was an understatement.

“Technically today’s about the bride…” A soft chuckle from you.

“You were my bride once.” A wink from him.

“I haven’t been a bride in a long time.”

“You’ll always be my beautiful bride.” And with this, Miguel brought you even closer, one hand on your waist, the other on your cheek. His breath fanned your cheek and suddenly, his lips were on yours. You smiled into the kiss, standing on the tips of your toes to lovingly cup his cheeks with both your hands. While your fingers traced his jaw exactly how you knew he liked, his hands got a bit busier, leaving your body to tug on the straps that held your silk dress together.

Once you figured what he was up to, you pushed him away, quirking an eyebrow as you tried to hide a smirk.

“Nuh-uh mister, we have a church to be at in 20 minutes, and it’s a 10-minute drive!” You asserted, shaking your head at him. It didn’t matter that the room’s temperature seemingly shot up, and your husband was looking truly tempting – you were not going to let your horniness get the better of you. At least, well, not today.

“No se darán cuenta de que llegamos tarde, te prometo que seré rápido” Miguel mumbled, lips pressing hot kisses against the crook of your neck, hands still dexterously tugging at your dress.

“No Spanish skills necessary to know you’re telling me a big fat lie. You’re never quick with me.” You laughed loudly, and the sound was enough for both Miguels to fall in love with you all over again. A pair of hands were on his chest, and he was softly pulled away. You fixed the straps of your dress and flattened your attire before standing straight. “Time to go, Mr. O’Hara.”

“You’ve never complained about me not being quick.” Was his muttered response, accompanied by a smug smile. But for all the adoration and desire he felt for you, he was even more whipped for your resolve. If you said it was time to go, it was probably time to go. So, he quickly adjusted his suit, turning to face the phone’s camera once again. “Vale, vale. Ya es hora de irnos, muñeca.”

Your figure got closer and closer, and at once, the video had ended.

Miguel stared at your smiling figure in his screen for a few minutes, and then shut everything off, the reflection of his own tired face staring back at him. It wasn’t until he felt something wet on his hands that he realised he was crying.

He missed you.

Constantly, continuously, perpetually.

You were on his mind at all times. When he roamed the halls of the Spider Society without you by his side to keep him company, when he went out for those cafeteria empanadas that could never compare to yours, when he worked himself to exhaustion without your deft fingers to work on the knots on his back, without your soft kisses to calm him down after he got mad at the world.

And everything around him reminded him of you.

It was impossible to walk around the streets of Nueva York without being distracted by the colours, the sounds, the sights, the people. It all brought his mind back to the love of his life, the person he found it impossibly hard to live without. The florist near your old apartment, the one he’d buy flowers from every other week, the pizza place that was “so bad, Italians surely had to be crying” according to you, even the goddamned dogs on the street reminded him of the way you’d kneel down and act like an excited child every time you saw one.

It was absolute torture to live without you.

But the worst of all, was waking up in the morning.

Some days, he swore he could feel your touch. The way your fingers traced his jaw and slowly made its way to his hair, playing with his brown locks. Your touch was soft, comforting, a small gesture to remind him he was safe. You often expressed how much you adored watching Miguel when he slept. “You look so relaxed. No furrow in your brow, no scowl in your lips. You look so peaceful.” Was what you told him every time, and there was no way he could ever not grant your every wish.

And then it was if he could hear your voice. Your sweet, melodic voice, telling him “Good morning, my love” in that sleep-laced voice he adored so much. And Miguel would close his eyes and try his best to remain in that place not yet tainted by reality but not entirely claimed by dream. “Wake up, guapo” was the next thing you’d say, your imperfect Spanish-skills manifesting. You’d been adamant on learning Spanish for your husband, and fuck if it didn’t make Miguel’s heart swell. The way his wife (then girlfriend) was so willing to learn the language he grew up with in order to become closer to him made him feel all kinds of positive emotions, and Miguel could swear his love for you grew more and more each passing day.

And then, you’d say it.

“Te quiero, mi amor.” It was the one phrase you used repeatedly, and the one he loved hearing you say the most. It fell from your lips naturally, as if you had been saying it your entire life, with a sweetness reserved for him and only him.

Your touch felt so real. Your voice sounded so real.

So, he would stay still, hoping that remaining motionless would grant him just one more second with you. Hoping that his immobility would be enough for you to return to him, even if just for a few brief moments.

But it never was.

Seconds would go by, and your touch would waver. Your voice would become distant, your feeble existence flittering away, leaving him with nothing but the painful reminder that his sheets would forever be cold, his place in his bed would always be empty, his life would no longer have the warmth and serenity your love brought to him.

Miguel would glance at your delicate figure once again, his mind trying to memorise you right then and there – and just as quickly as you manifested, you would disappear.

Deserting him of all he ever loved.

He was tired of being alone. Tired of waking up besides cold white sheets, of not having your sweet praises to assure him he was doing the right thing at HQ, simply tired of leading an existence without you.

There was no way he could bring you back – hell, he knew first hand that toying with the multiverse was a bad idea. But it did hurt him, going on without you. In fact, he wasn’t even sure he could go on if you weren’t there, next to him.

All he needed was your presence, your company. All he needed was to apologize and hear your sweet voice again, and damn it if he wouldn’t be thankful.

And that’s when the idea came to him.

This was a prototype Miguel had been developing for a while.

It was like Lyla, the only difference being the AI’s purpose. Lyla was there to assist him, to help him out with missions, anomalies, and the management of the Spider Society. The project he was working on served another goal. It was more of a companion than an assistant, it was to always remain by his side, to cure him of his loneliness, of his anguish and despair.

The screen in front of Miguel lit up after he configured the final few settings. A tweak here, a little adjustment there, some fine tuning over there. Should this work, Miguel would no longer have to have his thoughts plagued by the heartbreak your loss so constantly granted him.

“Good morning,” Like magic (or better yet, technology), a figure materialised before him. It was hard to explain just what it was, or what it looked like. It was as if a transparent person had solidified into existence in his presence. While it had the form of a human, a head, a torso, two arms and legs, the figure was devoid of any features. No eyes, no nose, no lips or ears, no hair. It was almost like a hologram of a mannequin, a blank slate of a person he would later shape according to his vision.

Miguel stared back at the figure, not completely convinced, at least not yet, of what he was doing. Sure, he’d worked day and night for the past few weeks, he’d foregone sleep and adopted coffee as his only meal in order bring his project into fruition, but now that it was there, right before his eyes, the possibility of achieving his goal was terrifying.

“To whom do I owe the pleasure of talking to?” The figure inquired, its voice devoid of any emotions.

After a moment of silence, Miguel spoke up.

“My name is Miguel O’Hara.” He began, “I am your creator.”

“Greeting, Miguel O’Hara.” The program answered back. “I am the Cognitive Operations and Machine Personalized Interface for Nurturing. Or rather COMPANION, for short. I was created to act as a colleague, a confidant and friend. As my name implies, my goal is to provide a nurturing presence to whoever is controlling me.” Having said this, it looked up at Miguel and something flashed in its visual panel – the closest thing this body had to a pair of eyes – and the words AUTHORISE SCAN? flashed on the main screen before the entity spoke up once again.

“Would you like me to scan you, Miguel O’Hara? By scanning you, I can take a look at your vital signs, your physicality, and even run a scan of your psyche to provide you with a companion that would, according to my calculations, be the best possible match for you.”

But Miguel did not want a tailored companion. He did not need to be looked at by any AI to be told who or what would act as the best possible match for him. He did not need any technology to figure out what could possibly be the best person to keep him company.

“That will not be necessary,” he asserted, “No scan is to be run. I am to personally customise you until you conform to my exact specifications. Is that clear?”

The being nodded, its posture straight as an arrow.

“I understand. Would you like to begin the customisation process?” It asked.

Miguel hesitated. Should he be doing this? It’s not like he was doing anything wrong. He was a genius, after all, and this was just a new project. He’d created Lyla once, and look how far that got him, the good his AI did not only for himself, but the Spider Society and by consequence, the multiverse.

In fact, everything he did had helped the Spider Society in the long run. Everything he did was for the good of the Spider Society, the thing he worked on for years and years, the thing he built from scratch and ultimately led to his demise.

Wasn’t it time for him to be selfish?

“Yes. I’d like to begin the customisation process.” Miguel sat down on his chair once again, exhaling loudly through his nose. There was nothing wrong with what he was doing. He was allowed to be a genius scientist, he was allowed to build new things, and he was most of all, allowed to be selfish after all that he’d done for the multiverse.

“From now on,” he started, “You are to respond to [N/N].” It had been months since he’d last uttered that nickname. The sweet little nickname he always referred to you as. It wasn’t anything fancy, just a variation of your name, but it nearly brought tears to his eyes, because for the first time, you weren’t there to turn around and face him with that stunning grin of yours.

(“So, no cariño, or mi amor, or chiquita?” You’d once inquired, legs crossed as you sat on your husband’s desk, right in front of him.

“I must remain professional, [Y/N]. I have a reputation to uphold.” Was his response as he crossed his arms. If anyone else were to be on his lab, let alone sit on top of his desk, he would go feral. But he couldn’t find it in himself to berate you or tell you to move – you could do anything your heart desired, and Miguel would adore you for it.

“And you’re willing to hurt your poor wife’s feelings over a reputation?” You faked a pout, batting your eyelashes at him, something you knew he couldn’t resist.

“I can think of a few ways to make it up to my wife, actually.” And without missing a beat, you were suddenly on his lap, smiling as his lips moved with your and his hands delicately ran through your body.

Miguel did not do good on his promise. On the second day after this conversation, he’d asked you “Mi amor, won’t you please get me the prototype I left on our dining table back home?” In front of everyone else and gave up. It was physically impossible for him not to treat you with the gentleness he was so used to from you.)

“[N/N]. I understand. Is it short for anything else?”

Miguel remained silent for a few seconds, before nodding.

“It’s short for [Y/N].” The name left his lips the same way it always did. With adoration, with love, with heartbreak. He hadn’t uttered it in a long time and mentally chastised himself for doing so, as if not voicing it out loud was somehow disgracing your memory. He shook the thought away.

The entity nodded once again.

“I understand. Am I to respond to [Y/N] as well?”

“Yes.”

Lyla had been quietly hearing whatever was going on inside Miguel’s lab from afar. She’d seen him work nonstop, day and night, for the past few weeks, always being told “It’s a new project” and nothing more. Miguel had pushed her away (just as he had done with everyone else), and it was only when the little AI figure heard the new program’s purpose and your name that it all clicked together. Although she was uncapable of feelings, it upset her to see Miguel so broken. But much to her dismay, there was nothing she or anyone else could do.

The truth was, no one had seen him during those few weeks. He had locked himself and dived headfirst into this project, refusing to let anyone in, literally or figuratively, threatening to do unspeakable things to whoever disturbed him while he worked.

She shook her head and looked at him once again, wondering what he would do next.

The entity, now named [Y/N], was the next one to speak.

“I understand this is most commonly used as a female name. Would you like for me to take the form of a woman?”

Miguel nodded, and the entity’s form shaped before his eyes. It became softer, gentle. Its contours shifted until they exuded an air of grace, each line and curve seemed harmonious and supple, different from his own sharp and broad figure. And yet, it didn’t resemble any women he knew. Yet.

“Now that I have a name and your preferred anatomy, would you like to create a personality for me?” [Y/N] probed. Her thoroughness made Miguel falter. This was happening way too fast. First a name, now a personality. He hadn’t yet come to terms with your loss, at least not properly, and this whole thing was giving him major whiplash. After losing you, he hadn’t been able to process his feelings. Now he was asking himself to push all of that aside in order to create what would be his most ambitious task. Nevertheless, he pushed through.

“How so?”

[Y/N] nodded and spoke once again. Now that she had taken the form of a woman, her voice was somewhat softer. It was hard to pinpoint whether it was real or not, if it was from a real person or not, but it did not bring Miguel any comfort.

“By giving me your preferred traits, you can arrange for me a personality that will align with your exact specifications, as you put it. Perhaps you’d like me to be quieter and more reserved, in order not to disturb you too much. Or maybe you would prefer if I was loud and cheerful. It is up to you which traits I am given. I am here to provide company and a nurturing presence, so feel free to take your time until I meet your exact wishes.”

Miguel pondered briefly. What traits would he like this… this thing to have? At first, he tried to pretend, get his mind off it, try to convince himself he was merely making an AI program to keep him company. But he could not lie to himself any longer.

He wasn’t simply creating an AI companion.

He was creating you.

And after mulling it over one last time, he decided to stop being so fucking uptight and go through with the task at hand. This is why he had been working so hard. His goal was so close, it was right in front of him to just take it, and here he was, acting like a coward.

“I want you to be kind,” Miguel remembered how kind to a fault you were. Always willing to help others, always willing to cheer them up and put their needs before your own. So selfless, so ready to lend a helping hand. “And optimistic, positive. I want you to always see the bright side of things,” You had this ability of turning even the most despairing moments into hopeful ones, advising him to not let the dark thoughts get the best of him. You’d hold your head up high and remind him of who he was; Spiderman 2099, and that he had nothing to fear, for it’d work out in the end.

“I want you to be polite and cheerful. Simply… Simply happy to exist.” You’d turn even the blandest of moments into memories he’d want to keep forever. In one moment, Miguel would be laying around, holding you close in his arms, the next you’d be taking him to the rooftop of your building to “catch a glimpse of Zeus’s angry fit” whenever thunder roared through the sky. Cleaning your shared apartment could be considered a boring chore to many, but they did not have you, who made up games out of every single task, like catching socks or vacuuming. “You will see the beauty in things. And I want you to be ambitious.”

Sure, Miguel had spent countless nights hunched over his desk, trying to come up with the perfect suit, or trying to keep hold of the canon, but you were no stranger to nighttime restlessness. You’d sit by his side work on your own tasks, intent of going to sleep only, and only when you wrapped everything up. If he weren’t in so much pain, he would’ve laughed. He was once the one to wrap his arms around you, face on the crook of your neck as he whispered, “You’ve worked hard enough, chiquita. Time for bed.” Unfortunately for him, in a cruel twist of fate, the roles had reversed for the worse. 

“Be stubborn,” Miguel continued, his voice, for once, not wavering. He was so resolutely determined to carry on with this venture, that for once, he didn’t feel his eyes tearing up as the memories of you crawled back inside his mind. “Especially when it comes to me. I… I tend to be quite headstrong when it comes to work. I often need a push.”

[Y/N] nodded once more.

“Remember, you can always adjust my personality to your liking. If you find you do not enjoy my stubbornness, you can change it and I will adjust my personality accordingly.”

It seemed so… Devoid of life. Sure, Miguel had given it some character traits already, but the whole thing wouldn’t be complete until he said so.

“Would you like to customise my voice now?” [Y/N] asked, “You can suggest a pitch and a tone, as well as a voice type. But I am also programmed to analyse any voice sources you provide and copy them. Which would you like to do?”

Miguel sighed. This whole process was getting harder and harder to get through it. It was one thing to give his new companion your name, your personality. But to give it your voice as well? That would be the same thing as making this being invincible, since your voice was the only one he ever seemed to obey. Even the Spider-People around him knew, with Peter teasing him endlessly about how he was “nothing more than a lovestruck puppy whenever you asked him for anything”. Miguel had always been on your beck and call, always willing to do anything you asked of him. By giving this being, this creature, this thing, your voice? He was setting himself up for disaster.

“I… I want you to scan a voice.”

The entity nodded.

“Please do provide me with enough samples of the voice you would like to copy. Preferably, samples that are not too monotonous in tone or in speech. By analysing all aspects of a voice, I can provide a more accurate result.”

Miguel had the following choices:

He could either turn on his screens, open a few folders named “[Y/N]”, and play one of the few hundreds of videos he had on you, or open his phone, connect it to said screens, and play the few voicemails you’d left him throughout your relationship.

There were a few differences in each choice, of course. The videos he kept on you were golden memories he gazed upon on lonely nights. Birthday parties, walks along the sunset, lazy mornings filled with raspy “Get this phone out of my face, mi amor”s, and bubbly “Mr. O’Hara’s a bit grumpy today, isn’t he?”s. Memories of you filming him while he set up your furniture, laughing along as you called him “Bob the Builder”, taped reminders of you cooking dinner for him, the cute little apron he so adored wrapped snugly around your hips, even a few images of when he fell asleep on your lap and you softly ran your fingers through his curls, singing him to sleep, murmuring that lullaby he so adored.

Compared to the voicemails on his phone, these videos were precious. They were worth more than what anyone could offer, in fact, they were priceless. These memories were the ones Miguel held so dear, the ones he cried over, the ones he spent months reminiscing upon after your loss.

On his phone, were 3 measly audio messages you’d left on three different instances of his life.

Usually, you never got to leave voicemails – Miguel would pick up on the first or second ring, always the attentive partner. But on the last few months of your life, that changed completely. And Miguel couldn’t help but chastise himself over it, cursing at himself whenever he remembers the hurt in your voice, the tears that he knew threatened to slip from your eyes and down your cheeks.

He didn’t deserve to use those videos as voice samples. He didn’t deserve to see you in your full glory, laughing at him, smiling and promising him eternal love and kindness. He didn’t deserve to hear your bubbling laughter once more, or fawn over your dazzling smile, he didn’t deserve to miss you. Not when he was the reason you were gone.

So, he decided to pull out his phone, intent on suffering. Intent on reminding himself of why you were gone, why he suffered so much. Miguel didn’t think he deserved to gaze at you in all your splendour. He didn’t think he, a mere, foolish, sinning mortal, was worthy of the living goddess that had once blessed his life, and now haunted his ever moment, gone forever.

“Hey Miggy!” Your voice, your voice was heard through his speakers. “I finally found the curry powder! Had to beat a lady with a stick to get it! It was almost out of stock! Anyway, why don’t you get started on the rice? I’ll be home in 10 and we can finish the recipe! Alright, that was it! Love you honey, see you home! End call. End call! End voicemail! How do you turn this thing off? End call. END CA-“ You were abruptly cut off as the call ended. Miguel chuckled dryly. He was the one to install the Bluetooth system on your phone (“Don’t want you texting and driving”, he had said.), and you had always complained about how your phone never picked up on you wanting to end calls. It became sort of an inside joke, especially since he managed to active and deactivate the system at first try, and it took you four or five to get it done.

(“It’s unfair,” You’d chided, wearing the most adorable pout and crossing your arms, “Technology loves you better.”)

Miguel looked at [Y/N] once again, hoping something, anything, to happen. But his program seemed to be patiently waiting for him to continue. One message was clearly not enough.

He pressed the second voicemail.

“Hey there, honey,” There was no mistaking the worry in your voice. It was still the one he loved so dearly, but laced in something sad, something that plagued him with terrible thoughts and churned inside him. “I know, I know, I shouldn’t worry, but you told me you’d be home by 7, and, well, it’s almost 9…” A soft pause followed, and Miguel could almost visualise it: you, sitting on your couch, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth as you nibbled your worries away. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I know it’s probably nothing serious, but, well, you know me-“ A dry chuckle “-Always worrying about my Miggy… Anyway, do tell me when you’re on your way, alright? I have a surprise for you, so get your pretty ass back home, Mr!”

End of call.

That was the first, well, not so good voice you’d ever left him.

If he could turn back time, Miguel would do it without hesitation. He’d go back to that very same day, convince his past self to stop working, and to go home to his wife. He’d tell past-him that his obsession with work was getting out of hand, and that he should stop it while he has the time, because once he’d fully immersed himself in his work, there was no coming back.

But he couldn’t.

“I’m sorry.” The body in front of him spoke once again. “But these samples are not enough for me to create a voice profile. The procedure it at 74% completion. Would you like for me to continue analysing, or should I start over with another profile?”

Shit. He didn’t want it to come to this, he did not want to listen to that last voice message. He was willing to walk through fire, to go straight through hell as many times as asked of him, but that message was torture. No, it was worse than torture. Torture ended. Either in death, or in relief. But this? Whatever this was, it did not end. This message was perpetual suffering, playing in loop inside his head. Over, and over, and over again.  

With whatever strength he still possessed, Miguel pressed the third and last voicemail.

“Miguel…” You had been crying. And if you hadn’t, you were just about to. Miguel recognised the knot in your throat, the lump that kept you from speaking and threatened to turn into tears. He hated that voice. The voice that meant you were hurting. The voice that meant he had hurt you. “I don’t know where you are, but… I shouldn’t have to wonder, because you were supposed to be here… Where are you?” This was when you started to cry. “Do you know how humiliated I was just now…? Do you know how stupid I felt, waiting, sitting on that exam room by myself?” You were sniffling. God, how Miguel wished he could just go back and hug you, how he wished he could dry your tears and promise you it would be alright, he would fix everything, he’d be better.

“This has to stop,” Despite the tears, you were still talking. That was just who you were, able to speak through the pain, always willing to keep pushing forward. “This stupid obsession with work, Miguel, it has to stop. I’m tired, I’m so tired. And I’m so lonely, Miguel… I’m so lonely, I go to sleep by myself, and the sheets are still cold when I wake up… I don’t see you, you don’t come home, and you push me away when I visit you in HQ…”

“When are you going to go back to being my husband? I don’t want Spiderman. I want my husband, I want my Miguel back, I want the man I love back…” You sobbed, unbothered by how you sounded. You weren’t even sure if he could make out any words, but you kept on going – if you didn’t tell him what was going on your mind now, there was no way you ever could.

“I miss you… Just… Come home Miguel… I can’t do this by myself…” He could hear you wiping your tears, and softly clearing your throat. “Anyway… The doctor said the baby was fine. But I guess if you really cared, you’d come to the appointment.” This last part was muttered, and Miguel could swear he heard both yours and his heart break.The baby. “Come home. Please.”

And just like that, the call ended.

Miguel was crying. This last message… This was the one he couldn’t help but listen to almost every day before passing out from exhaustion. “It’s your fault [Y/N]’s gone. You neglected your wife, you prioritised work over her, you couldn’t protect her.” Was what the voices in his head uttered, day after day, night after night. Every second he was reminded of how he left you behind.

He'd been working late every day, neglecting his meals, neglecting his sleep, neglecting his wife, who cried herself to sleep every night, holding tightly onto her husband’s pillow – which brought her small comfort. He would lash out at you when you tried to get him to take breaks, treating you like you were nothing but one of his Spider-People, refusing to look you in the eye and not even returning your “I love yous”.

One day, you had tried calling him, but to no avail. It was only when Jessica and Peter burst into his office, saying you’d also called them, that Miguel decided to check on you back at your shared apartment. He was hoping to find you whining, curled up on your couch as you pouted at him and told him you missed him. He thought he’d find you throwing a tantrum, too hormonal to understand how important and busy his work was.

But nothing could’ve prepared him to what he saw.

The metallic smell that permeated the room should’ve been a dead giveaway, but Miguel was too focused on returning to HQ that he ignored it, and made his way to your bedroom, where you most likely were.

And that’s when he saw you. Drenched in blood, face red and puffy from the tears that ran down your cheeks. You were laying on your shared bed, body marred with deep gashes from what he assumed was a knife. On one hand was your phone, on the other, Miguel’s first Spiderman mask. “For protection”, he once said. You always held on to it whenever you were scared.

It’s nearly impossible to describe the pain and heartache Miguel felt looking at your lifeless body. A conversation with his neighbours informed him that the entire building had been victim of a burglar, and you were the only mortal victim, unable to fight him off.

It was his fault. He’d been too immersed in his work, pushing you away, leaving you to the loneliness of your apartment, and now here you were, dead. There was no other way to say it, you were dead, and so was your child.

Oh God.

Your child.

Tears clouded his vision; irrationality clouded his judgement. Miguel was most certainly not thinking straight when he tried carrying your body back to HQ. Perhaps something could be done about the baby. Perhaps your child would live, would get to grow up, his eyes and your hair, your smile and his nose, anything that proved you still lived in something, in someone other than just his memory.

But that wasn’t possible.

That night, Miguel cried for the first time. He wept, hands hiding his face as the images of your ripped apart belly and glassy eyes tormented his thoughts.

It was his fault.

You were gone, and it was his fault.

If only he hadn’t worked so hard. If only he’d been home with you, doting on his beautiful pregnant wife like any decent husband would, none of this would’ve happened. The burglar would’ve tried to enter his house, and within seconds he’d be slammed against the wall. Miguel would have held you close that night, whispering soft “It’s okays” and “You’re fine, mi amors” repeatedly until your heartbeat steadied, and you fell into a peaceful sleep.

But that was not possible.

Not anymore.

And it was, irrevocably, his fault.

And then the unthinkable happened.

“Voice profile completed.”

It was you. It was your voice that spoke back to him. It had that sweet musicality to it that he so adored, that he once was blessed to hear every day when he woke up, that chastised him for being too stubborn, that pleaded for one more kiss whenever he had to go to work, that giggled excitedly whenever he whispered soft Spanish praises, limbs tangled with yours.

Miguel looked up. It was your voice, but the creature did not look like you at all. All it shared was a name and your sweet, sweet voice.

Mierda. Fuck this. Al diablo con la sutileza.

Miguel missed you and he was going to have you, one way or the other.

“I want you to look like her.” He all but growled, fingers angrily tapping at the screen so he could find your pictures. “There. Scan her. I want you to look like her. And stop with the formalities. You’re to call me Miguel. ¿Me entiendes?” His voice was feral with the prospect of seeing you again – or at least a construction of you. The thought was overwhelming, and he had to sit back down, his face finding purchase in his hands.

He was past “What am I doing?”

“Miguel?” You asked.

No. Not you.

[Y/N].

Miguel looked up, the same way a sinner does at the altar, praying for redemption. It was gorgeous. You were gorgeous. And looked oh, so real.

Your– [Y/N]’s eyes were looking down at his figure, lips slightly agape, the way you always did when you quite couldn’t figure out what was wrong. [Y/N] pursed her lips and exhaled softly.

“Miguel, are you okay?” [Y/N] said. You said. It was getting hard to tell you two apart, to distinguish what was creature and what was human, what was holographic entity and what was the love of his wife. Especially when you looked the same, when you sounded the same, when you looked at him with the same tenderness, the same love. You were identical. Same eyes, same smile, same hair, same figure. It was as if, before him, stood a perfect copy of you.

“[Y/N]?” Miguel questioned, too delirious to try and figure out who he was talking to.

“Yes? Is everything alright? You seem distressed…” Slowly, your figure – [Y/N]’s figure, right? – approached him. You looked down ([Y/N]...? [Y/N] looked down...?), soft apprehension clear in your voice.

“Oh, my love… Cariño…” Miguel sobbed as he looked at you – so gorgeous, so radiant as the day he met you, with eyes that could give the stars in the sky a run for their money, with lips so plush one couldn’t help but want to kiss them at all times, the love of his life, right before his eyes. “I missed you so much…”

He took you in, all softness and loveliness and so you, it almost scared you. You, the goddess, the saint, ready to rid him of his sins and absolve him, to make him a new man untainted by grief and heartbreak.

He had half a mind to touch you before a tiny voice in the back of his head advised him against it – the delusion hadn’t sunk in entirely yet, and he knew your image would flicker, a simple hologram compared to his solidness, to his existence.

But it didn’t matter.

He had given himself the second chance he so desperately wanted, and he was not going to waste it this time.

A/N: I hope you guys liked it! All headers are mine hehe I made them in PixelLab in like 5 minutes lol :) Please do not repost my work without my permission, thank you!

[sillymercury]

Stolen Lullabies

Summary: When the boys return home barely alive they find themselves struggling to explain their actions to the rest of the inner circle. With a strange woman pulled through time and space and brought into their home, the women don’t respond to well the carelessness displayed.

Word count: 3.8k

Part i (New York ver.)

Part i (Prythian ver.)

Part ii

When the boys arrived in Velaris daybreak was threatening the sky, peach dancing across the horizon where the sun was sure to make an appearance. The city was still and quiet as most of its residents were still safely tucked into their homes. Velarias’ luck had held out as it was far from the war, its streets were still safe but the people were different. Many of the sheltered citizens had put down their comforting tools and picked up weapons to join the war efforts. They belived in their high lords mission and showed immense bravery by leaving their safety blanket and moving often far away to train so they could properly fight. It was both heartwarming and gut wrenching, the way they would fight for whats right but also the fact that they had to.

Cassian landed in front of the river house with a thud as Azriel landed much quiter but still rough. The men were exhausted, they had been working all day, training people who were never meant to be warriors and up all night struggling through their hail mary mission. Rhys was conscious again after passing out most of the flight, Cass set him on his feet gently and Rhys kept his arm around his shoulder needing the support. “Take her to the spare room Az, I want to break the news before everyone meets her,” Az just nodded at his brother before taking flight again to the back of the house.

Rhys and Cassian hobbled to the front door, Rhys’ magic had been returning at a snails pace; the little bit that had returned was focused on restoring his missing life force. The second the boys pushed through the door the sound multiple footsteps rushed towards them. They were faced with all of the women in their life, some were shocked, a few angry, and one had the blotchy redness that comes with a long session of tears.

Feyre’s eyes took in Rhys’ mangle state and a string of praises and curses left her lips as she rushed to him, he pushed himself out of his brothers arms and fell into his mates. The pair held on tight as they both let tears fall freely, “Oh gods, oh gods! I was so worried. The bond, it was shaking, and I- I couldnt feel you. It was like a gaping hole where you were supposed to be,” Feyre choked against her mates chest as she squeezed tighter, afraid he would slip away if she let go.

Cassian silently made his way to to an earily still Nesta. Reconizing her upset demeanor as worry, he pulled her into his body. Her hands splayed across his chest as she closed her eyes, breathing in his scent was the only way to calm her nerves.

“I’m sorry baby, I’m so sorry,” Rhys whispered into Feyre’s hair as his sobs choked him. Being in his mates arms had given him a blast of energy and he used all of it to hold her tight. “I’m okay, I'm here. You cant get rid of me that easily.” Feyre shook her head in his chest at his pathetic attempt at a joke.

“Glad to see your okay enough to make jokes but where the hell have you been?” Armens voice was laced with the anger she was fighting to keep at bay. She had already lost someone and having spent the night pacing the floor, worried it was happening again. The only way she knew deal with that fear was to place it behind a wall of fury.

“And what the hell happened to you?” Morrigan spoke as well, finally getting over her shock as she examined her family in front of her. Morrigans words had barely made their way out of her mouth before Amren was speaking again.

“Running off, somewhere dangerous, by yourselves. Impudent males. Do you have any idea how-” she cut herself off and her short hair shook as she harshly turned her head to the side. How worried we’ve been was what she wanted to say, she stopped herself as all of the pain and fear that had been strangling her for the past few weaks wrapped its wretched hands around her throat, again.

Rhys went to speak but he was cut off by a soft voice, “Where is Azriel?” It was Elain, she was positioned behind the rest of the females clutching the part of her dress that covered her heart. Her wide eyes bounced between Cass and Rhys, the rest of the group stood expectantly. Feyre and Nesta both pulled away from their mates as they waited for an answer.

Rhys and Cassian had shared a glace and silent words were spoken between the two, should you lie or should I? Elain observed the interaction and her gut wrenched with worry, a soft “No,” leaving her lips as she began to shake her head blinking quickly as her eyes flooded with silver..

Cassian had lost the battle waged behind their eyes and he opened his mouth, ready to let the first thing that popped into his mouth fall out when Az pushed through the front door like the sly devil he was.

He had flown to the back of the house and landed on Rhys and Feyres balcony knowing they kept it unlocked until they both were in bed asleep. He moved silently through the house listening to the commotion downstairs as he made his way through the halls, the empty room was at the end just past Nyx’s nursery. Pushing in he didnt light the room, just padded towards the bed. He pulled back the plush comforter before laying the girl down gently. Bent over, he slid off her boots as carefully as he could, he realized that her big jacket probably wouldnt be comfortable to wake up in he decided to take that off of her too.

He sat the girl upright, leaning her forehead against his shoulder as he slid her jacket down. Azriel hands slid over her smooth skin that had stayed warm due to their proximity and he silently prayed she wouldnt wake up as this would not only be incredible awkward but hard to explain. With her jacket off he cupped the back of her neck and leaned with her as he placed her down. She had been so still for so long he sat quietly listening to her heartbeat, the rhythm was melodic he almost wanted to lay down and next to her and pass out listening to it. That thought alone had him sitting up straight, checking the room. He knew the room was clear but an ugly anxiety had him afraid of being caught. In that moment he had every intention of getting up and joining his family downstairs but something inside him didn't listen.

Leaning back down Az turned his head to the side so his face was just mere inches from the nape of her neck, he breathed deeply, the perfect combination of scents taking him over. Each scent was was solitary but they also blended so perfectly, the amber, iris, and currant was a combination he would’ve never thought up but it was positively addicting. He had no idea how long he hovered over the girl but the spell was broken when he heard a voice that caressed his heart ever so gently.

“Where is Azriel?”

It was Elain. Her gentle voice had his heart lurching and he pulled back and rushed to the window. Before he flew out he took a look back at the witch resting on the bed with confusion and disdain. He wasn't sure what magic she was capable of but he finally felt the twinge of worry he should’ve felt hours ago at the thought of bringing a stranger into his home.

Closing the window behind him it took Az less than 10 seconds after hearing the voice to get to the front door and push it open. When he walked in her eyes were the first he met, her delicate face marred by distress pulled at his heart strings and he moved swiftly to her arms. The moment he touched her a tears that was dancing on her eyelash fell, he quickly caught it and brushed it aside.

“Azriel,” she whispered and he pulled her close. Elain’s arms snaked around his waist and he melted into her delicate embrace. Her familiar scent found his olfactory sense and washed away the previous scent that had lingered there from before. Her scent was sweet, like wildberries and vanilla, accompanied by an earthy scent from all the time she spent in the garden. The scent of the flowers she cared for lingered on her as well; roses, lilies, tulips, and… Iris’.

He pulled back and scanned her face, her calm features had soothed him. He brought a hand up to smooth the hair by her face, “Im here,” he assured and leaned into his touch and her doe eyes climbed to his. A small smile ghosted Azriels lips at the unbridled beauty she held and he brought them down to brush hers ever so gently.

“Im glad everyones okay but…” Nesta pulled back from Cassian again as she started speaking, “can you explain what happened now?” Her anxiety had subsided enough for frustration to seep through. Her mate, her partner, had left without a word in the middle of the night to embark on a clearly dangerous mission. This was a conversation she had already had with Cassian, they dont leave each other in the dark when lives are at stake, especially their own.

Amren was empowered by Nesta’s anger, she marched in between the two men still by the door, directing her attention on the high lord. “Yes, like what the hell got the best of you! And whatever the hell you did to cause that magic surge because I know it had something to do with you fools!”

Rhys didnt answer, he didnt have the chance, “Let him sit down first!” Feyre hissed spinning to face the shorter girl. Amren didnt loosen her grip on her ferocity, staring Feyre down with gross determination.

Morrigan rushed between the two sensing a fight brewing, “Feyre’s right, lets sit and try to calm down first. Emotions have been running high all night,” She placed an understanding hand on Amrens shoulder as she remained stoned in place. Feyre scoffed before turning away, focusing back on her mate as she supported him and began to lead him toward the drawing room where the ladies had been waiting all night. “Should I fetch Madja?”

“I've got him,” Feyre ground out as she led her mate the couch and with the was over her hand a cloth, bowl of warm water, and a glass of water materialized on the low table. She sat down next to Rhys and began cleaning all the dried blood off of his face. Some of his wounds were still open, “Baby, why aren't you healing?” Her voice was as gentle as a breeze as she spoke to him.

“My magic… whats left of it is keeping me alive.” He answered lowly, his eyes trained on her as she cleaned him, what he said gave her pause.

“Dont tell me you lost your magic,” Amren bit out from behind Mor’s chair, where she was leaning with crossed arms. Mor threw her a look over her shoulder before leaning forward to hear Rhys’ answer.

“No its not gone… not in that sense. Its coming back, just slowly.” Mor blew out a breath at her cousins answer and she leaned back in her chair.

“So what did happen to require using nearly all of your magic?” Nesta asked from the chair her and Cass were sharing.

“Not nearly. It took all of my magic, and Cass’ and Az’s,” he nodded towards his brothers before looking down ashamed, not wanting to admit this next part, “I had to dip into my life force just to complete the spell.”

The emotions in the room rose once again, evident by the gasps and wide eyes. Morrigan was leaning forward again as Amren moved around her chair, inching closer. Nesta and Elain shared a glace that conveyed all their confusion, worry, and fear; What needed that much magic?

“You what?” Feyre asked, the thought inconcivable, “Rhys why? If anything happened…” Rhys stopped the shaking of her head with both of his hands on either side of her face as an appology bustled from his mouth before he brought it to hers.

“So what was this spell?” Amren questioned as she continued to stalk towards Rhys. Feyre had grabbed a dagger from Rhys’ belongings and cut open her hand over the small cup of water mixing it with her blood. If his magic couldnt heal him then hers would.

“Az, please,” Rhys nodded towards his brother in a way of asking him to take over. Azriel pulled out the dirty papers as well as the scrap paper that held the spell’s pronunciation, he glanced at the papers, then Elain, the papers again before handing them to Amren. Elain was so lost and so much more scared, she wrapped a hand around his bicep and moved closer on the couch.

The room was quiet aside from Feyre’s shuffling as Amren read over the paper, Mor over her shoulder looking too. Based on the way Morrigan's face contorted in confusion, she had no idea what she was reading. Based on the way Amren's face twisted with disbelief, and then unbridled rage, she knew exactly what she was reading. Her hands clutched the paper harder as she spoke, her eyes not leaving the page, “You didn’t.” Her voice was low and intimidating, it was like the room dropped 10 degrees at the shift in her.

“What is it?” Feyre asked looking her mate directly in the eyes, the eyes he screwed shut for a beat before facing her again.

Rhys began speaking but him and Az took turns telling the whole story. Az explained how he found the Murdians, how one of them detailed the etirity of the ritual, and how he brought the information to Rhys with encouragement. Rhys explained how they went back and forth for weeks, how they brought Cassian in and he made the final decision, Rhys conveniently left out what caused him to come to the conclusion. At the revelation Nesta gave Cass a look that said we will talk about this later, Cassian nodded before scowling at the brother who threw him under the bus. Rhys went on with how the spell took everything he had and more, how the magic shook everything when the portal opened, how the Umbramaw attacked and he was essentially defenseless against attacks. Cassian butt in only to explain the experience with the Umbramaw. Throughout the entirety of the story Amren was scoffing, throwing her hands in the air just to cross them again, and giving out screwed up looks to each boy. Rhys ended his tale with the news of the girl who came through the portal and how she was asleep upstairs.

“What?!”

“You brought her here?!”

“Idiots!”

The room had exploded as Morrigan, Feyre, and Amren all screamed over each other. Amren Was in Rhys’ face now, “What were you thinking? Do you have any idea what you were doing? What you read?!” Her loud voice boomed as her little body shook with rage, her reaction twisted something in Rhys’ gut as he realized didnt have an answer to any of her questions.

“Where is she?” Feyre asked turning to look at the shadowsinger who apparently snuck her in.

“She’s in the guest room,” his simple answer caused another erruption.

“Your joking!”

“You put a stranger in the room right next to my son’s!”

It was Nestas turn to stand up and shout with Feyre as she immediatly understood the layout of the situation.

Az cleared his throat, he didnt even think of what Feyre had just exclaimed. His features, though, remained unaffected by any of the loud reactions, “She’s passed out, she hit her head pretty hard. It will be awhile before she wakes up.”

The two woman didnt believe it, actually none of them did. A chorus of disbelief, angry curses, and questions floated through the air between the women.

“Look,” Rhys decided to speak again, taking the heat off of his brother who was being yelled at, “She’s just a human, she’s scared and confused,” Amren scoffed but he went on, “We did the spell right, she’s here to help us end this war.”

“If she even can, she’s one human,” Cassian cut in, “and a tiny one too.” Nesta shot him another look letting him know that going against Rhys wasnt going to win him any brownie points. Mor fell back into her chair, head in her hands as she whispered something about the Mother.

“Dont,” Feyre started slowly, throwing him a serious look that emulated her sister's steeliness, “underestimate what one small human can do.” That shut Cassian up, he tucked his wings in and stepped back, Nesta just shook her head.

“No he’s right,” Amren said causing a few of the heads to snap to her, none of them expected her to agree with any of the boys right now. She turned her attention to Rhys, “Let me ask you, can you read this page?” he shook his head and she nodded certainly, “So then did you know that this ritual takes months to prepare? That it’s meant to be accompanied with a near impossible to make potion? That it had to be performed on a solstice full moon?” She was shouting between all the boys at this point, each of their downcast eyes answered her question.

“Or maybe that this spell is exclusive to the Murdians, so even if you did do everything right its still likely to backfire!” She crossed her arms one last time firmly over her chest as she locked in on the highlord, “Did you know any of that Rhys?” When he shook his head Feyre did too, spinning towards her oldest sister as her hand came to her temple in pure disbelief. Amren turned towards Azriel, “How about you, spymaster?” His title was spat out like an insult and his jaw clicked as he growled out a barely audible, no. Amren laugh and rolled her eyes towards Cassian, “And I know you didn't know.”

Nesta straighted and took a small step towards him defensively, she was upset but that doesnt mean she will take kindly to him being insulted.

“My informant,” Azriel ground out through his clenched jaw, “didnt explain those things.” He was ashamed, angry with himself. He found the Muridans, he gave Rhys the spell, he encouraged them to do it. His insolence could’ve been deadly. He stood up from where he was sitting next to his partner and moved dangerously close to the corner and even without his magic shadows moved across his face.

“Of course not! Murdians dont speak English! They never have!” Amren was enjoying the verbal lashing she was handing out, she had been waiting all night to tear into these boys and she wasnt holding back, “Your informant probably barely understood what you were saying, or even what they were saying. Or maybe they wanted to kill you in order to keep their people’s existence hidden.” A despicable laugh slipped through her lips as she shook her head. A string of curses and insults slipped out as she moved toward the window that had the golden light of morning flooding in, giving the clean room an angelic glow.

“Maybe it will work,” a delicate voice hung like a guillotine in the tense air. Azriel’s eyes weren't the only one who snapped to the source. Faithful, forgiving, Elaine; always so quick to believe in him. He looked at her hopefully, trying to decipher if she really believed what she was saying. “Im not sure, of course…” Her eyes moved from Amrens to Azriels and they softened at his disconsolate demeanor, “but maybe.”

Amren wasn't letting up, she is the only one who didn't immediately lighten her tone when speaking to the girl and she wasn't going to start now. “Maybe,” she mocked, “Maybe they brought our savior!” Her hands clapped together over her heart and a sickly sweet smile spread across her lips. “Or, maybe they just brought our doom,” her voice had shifted to low horrible tone with that statement. It changed once again to aloof for her next line, “Or maybe they just brought some random girl from who knows when or where.”

Amren turned back towards the window but snapped at Rhys again, “A girl we have no way of sending home might I add!”

“What?” Feyre asked, turning to her mate again, “We can't send her back?”

“No,” Azriel spoke for Rhys once again, “The parameters of the spell states she will only be returned when her destiny here has been fulfilled.”

“If you brought her here for the war, that could be years before it ends,” It was Mor now speaking, she wasn't as angry as she was before but still cynical. Her words gave the air a tense chill, she noticed the change and continued, “But if destiny is involved… maybe we could have hope?” Mor looked towards Elain who’s eyes shone thankfully. Az’s face still gave away nothing as it was half covered in shadows. Amren just scoffed at their ignorance, shaking her head before looking through the window again.

“Okay,” Feyre stated, her voice was no longer that of a concerned mate or an angry mother, it was of a High Lady. “What's done is done. I'm going to charm her to sleep for another couple hours and I’ll see what I can figure out from her memories. When she wakes up we can interrogate her, she if she could truly be of use. In the meantime all of us are tired, let’s all rest and we’ll pick up this conversation again later; try to figure out how to move forward.”

“You’re all push overs,” Amren stated in the calmest voice she had all night, “rolling over letting your mates, and boyfriend, act like insolent children. Encouraging it.”

“Thats not what-” Feyre’s stern voice was interrupted by a bloodcurdling scream, and then another and the sound of glass breaking.

Amrens lips cut into a devilish smile, “Look who’s up.”

Everyone, except Elain, made a move for the foyer but Feyre held up a finger, “No! You three have probably freaked her out enough already,” her eyes were hard on the males faces and her tone was final. “And I think it's best if only one of us goes in at a time. I was where she is now, I’ll try to talk to her.”

More yelling flowed through the house and Feyre ran up the large staircase with Nesta on her heels, “Im grabbing Nyx,” She said and Feyre thanked her.

Feyre pushed the guest room door and had to immediately duck as a vase flew straight for her head.

A/N: Well that went… well? Honestly can’t say I blame the girls, what were they thinkingggg??? This was fun but I’m really excited for part iii, so much so I might just post it tonight👀

If you made it this far I LOVE YOU<3

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