#whenever I like... suddenly fixate heavily on getting/doing something new

[dirkxcaliborn]

ough I was about to list my bed for sale (I'm planning to get a new one) but I suddenly got scared sdfghj what if I miss it??? what do you mean someone's going to come into my house and take my bed away??? that's mine????

[writing-in-april]

April Fools

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Spencer needs to one up Reader just as he’s about to loose a prank war

A/N: I’m kicking things off for my 30 fics in 30 days for April with this fic inspired by April Fools day- lol this is a much better version compared to what I have experienced in the past with this holiday 😂 @90spumkin there’s a few specific lines in here that are totally inspired by your cowboy Spencer fic lol 😂 I’d like to hear all y’all’s thoughts so far or just drop me any type of anon here- ask me anything -my requests are also open!! Hope y’all enjoy reading ☺️

Warnings: 18+, Dom Spencer (not as harsh as in other fics of mine), Fingering, Edging, Public Sex, Sex with a hidden motive (there are some real feelings there 😉 plus reader acknowledges and knows the hidden motives)

Main Masterlist Word count: 2.4K

When you walked into the bullpen it was dead silent. If you dropped a pin you’d be able to hear it, even with the carpeted floors. You crept as quietly as you could, afraid that someone might jump out to scare you. It was not as if you had gotten in late today, you were actually cutting it rather close this morning.

Your fear of being submitted to a jump scare so early in the morning wasn’t as irrational. Today was the day that everything was going to come to an either a glorious defeat or a momentous victory. A two week long bet was tipping heavily in your favor at the final hours, you had to be careful to not let your hold over Spencer weaken in these last moments.

Today was April 1st- a day like any other to most people, but not to you and not to Spencer. It had all started when you both had begun trying to do little pranks on each other in the months leading up to the bet. If you asked anyone on the team they’d say it started when you replaced his normal standard deck of playing cards with a new set that had awkward pictures of Spencer you had accumulated over the years taped on them to represent each of the numbers and faces. Your personal favorite was the photos you had chosen for the Queens- one of Spencer looking rather regal, eyes cast downwards and with his hands crossed and a big lip pout while sitting at his desk obviously disproving of whatever Derek had said (who was also in the picture)

The team would’ve definitely said it had started there, but that was the first one that they had seen. The first one had actually been when Spencer had switched around the contacts in your phone while you weren’t looking while you had been hanging out with him. To be fair it had been in retaliation to you playfully teasing him about being a technophobe, all’s fair in love and war you had to admit.

And, whether you admitted to him or not, you did love him. This little bet that you set a few weeks ago had only strengthened your feelings. It involved setting a prank for each other, alternating every other day for two weeks until April Fools day, then the team would judge and figure out who one. You can definitely thank Morgan for that brilliant idea as he had spontaneously suggested it after your card prank on Spencer, though you bet he had been thinking about it for a while. Over the course of two weeks you had to delve into the mind of Spencer, really getting to know what would get under his skin, what would be the perfect prank for him.

“I hope you know what you got yourself into Spencer.” He had smirked back at me when you said that right after confirming your bet. You had delved into researching stuff, trying to figure out pranks that would be more personalized to Spencer rather than the ones everyone would see passed around. Eventually you landed on an idea for your last prank that was simple, yet the perfect way to get under Spencer’s skin. It was so easy you kicked yourself a little for not figuring it out before.

Apparently replacing the sugar Spencer specifically brought in for himself with salt was a step too far according to him. The glare that he had fixed on you after he had spit out his coffee onto his cardigan made you shiver, you knew you were going to be in for something big today.

Plus today was the aforementioned holiday that inspired the bet in the first place, you kind of wished you had gotten the chance to have the last laugh. You were still crossing your fingers and toes in hopes that it wouldn’t compare to your coffee prank.

Your eyes locked on the lone figure standing in the maze of desks, Spencer. It felt as if you were both ready at high noon for a duel to see who drew their gun fastest. Though, comparatively there was a distinct lack of cowboy hats and the sun was down to low for a proper duel. That didn’t stop your mind from wandering to thinking about him in a cowboy hat, he’d definitely look good. you’d have to get him one some day or maybe put a snake in a cowboy boot if another prank war was to ever crop up.

“Where is everybody?” You asked, though you knew that Spencer had probably sent them off elsewhere, you had done the same thing earlier when you needed to convince him that he had come in on his day off.

“I may have bribed them a bit to be elsewhere right now.” He spoke with a smirk that would have seemed foreign to you until you guys had started this. Now it was a staple for him whenever you saw him, going right along with his cardigan and tie to complete his look. There was no complaint from you, Spencer acting slightly cocky just before you were about to get pranked on oddly made you get hot and bothered easier than you’d like to admit.

Pushing those thoughts aside, you crossed your arms in front of you, probably a vain attempt to protect yourself from whatever was coming. Your voice came out a little shaky, “What for?”

“Just wanted to talk to you- privately…” He skated around your question, not really giving you any definitive answer. Though, you hadn’t really expected him to lay out his whole plan, that would just be counterproductive. There was a slight pause in conversation, you were about to break it with your own response when he added,“You know I’ve always found you desirable, Y/N…”

The simple teasing conversation that you had been having with him suddenly pivoted. The air in the room felt like it had been sucked out, leaving you gasping. Even if some part of this led to a prank, you knew Spencer wouldn’t play with your feelings like that. What was most likely happening is that he was using this confession to also pull a fast one on you. His deep brown eyes piercing into your own told you that he was telling the truth in that regard, plus if earlier in the bet was any indication, he wasn’t that good of a liar.

“This wasn’t what I thought you’d be talking to me in private about but- I’ve always found you desirable too...” You admitted with a gulp, pressing your weight into the edge of your desk almost sitting on it.

Your full weight pushed to sit fully on top of your desk, undoubtedly crinkling some important papers underneath when he stepped forward to close the large gap between the two of you. The tension was thick around you now with only two sentences spoken, both full of truth.

“Do you want me as much as I want you?” His lips were now so close to yours his breath was projected onto your lips.

“Yes.” You confirmed, with no hesitation. Honestly, you wouldn’t care if there was some sort of prank he was going to play on you soon, you knew that what he had said didn’t just apply to now. That was the part that mattered to you.

His lips surged forward to meet yours, letting all the tension that had been rising boil over. It was everything you had imagined and more, his lips just as soft and pillowy as they had been in your dreams.

When he pulled your skirt up roughly to expose your bottom half to him you came up off of the edge of the desk slightly, then being pushed back down once you were partially exposed before him. You squeaked into his mouth in shock of how fast this was escalating, but didn’t protest any further, wanting to see where he was going with this. You were so glad that he had gotten the team to leave the bullpen for a while, this would be a hard situation to explain. Being out in the open didn’t make you more nervous though, it excited you to know that someone could be around the corner with only the desk dividers hiding your exposed bottom half.

He didn’t even bother to push your panties down to your knees or ankles. He just pulled them aside to gain access to your now positively dripping hole. You hadn’t even thought to question how this tied into his prank, like it inevitably did, yet. You just wanted more of him, in any way you could get him.

His eyes were fixated on your dripping entrance, seemingly mesmerized by finally being able to see it. The awe in his eyes certainly did make you feel adored by him, but your desire made you feel impatient, “Spencer, do something or I’ll take care of it myself.”

A growl was all you were going to get in response to your desperate snarky comment. He then brought his hand up to suck on two of his fingers, his pointer and his middle. But, instead of then putting them to good use to help you reach a peak he stalled some more by bringing them up to your own mouth.

“I want you to suck too.” A little whine was all you could give in response before letting his fingers inside your mouth. You sucked diligently, making sure to get them wet enough for you.

Once he was finally satisfied with your efforts he removed them, a slight popping noise escaping. Bringing his hand down slowly was just another attempt to tease some more, but you knew that he’d reach there eventually. No matter how hard it was to be patient, you did so, though with a bit of squirming.

Your hips bucked up immediately in response to his fingers coming into content with your clit, Spencer’s other hand came down to press your hips back down again. He spent his sweet time playing with patterns, circling your clit a few times slowly before switching to a faster figure 8 pattern, seemingly just to get you more desperate.

“Spencer- again if you don’t do more I’ll take care of it myself!” You snapped harder with more venom this time, patience wearing dangerously thin. You thought you heard a small whisper of the word brat underneath his breath, but you decided to table it when he finally did oblige you.

You had to bite down on your lip hard when he stopped circling your entrance to plunge two of his fingers inside of you. The pressure on your lip was most certainly almost enough to break the skin while he began thrusting his fingers inside you in a steady rhythm, crooking them perfectly to make you see stars. You had to bite your lip so hard to combat the raging moans that wanted to escape from you due to the pressure he was putting on your gspot.

He brought his thumb up to circle your clit again once he saw that you were getting close, helping push you closer towards the edge. Your lungs were heaving in gasping breaths mixed with desperate moans as he continued to add stimulation to your most sensitive spots, hitting them perfectly with each crook of his fingers and circling of your clit.

Just as your orgasm was about to wash over you, all of his movements stopped abruptly. The euphoric stimulation you had been feeling was ripped away from you, his thumb on your clit halted, the curling of his fingers ceased, and his mouth that had been pressing kisses and hidden hickies to my collarbone had concluded its actions.

“April fools.” He then removed his fingers from me and promptly sauntered off to his own desk with no other words for you. Your legs were still shaking, more now from being edged to the point that you fully had to sit down onto your desk to try and regain your composure. Your jaw also was hanging slack in shock in contrast to how hard you had been biting your lips earlier while his fingers had been inside you.

A little glance from Spencer was thrown your way that was probably to gage your reaction,

you spotted even in your disheveled and distraught state. You had to admit, it was not what you were expecting and he had got you good. Your plan paled in comparison by far considering you were just going to have the entire office call him Stanley all day- and of course steal the coffee grounds to see if you could provoke an even bigger reaction out of him.

A deep sigh came from you, an non verbal admission of your glorious defeat. He had well and truly got you, it wasn’t as if you could exactly defend yourself and your pranks to the team during judging. Not that you really wanted to defend them, there was no reason to, he had well and truly beaten you. You could accept when you had been beaten, you’d accept defeat with grace. Though you definitely still feared the idea Spencer would come up with as a consolation prize for his win.

Reaching down with your hands to a stack of files on your desk you absentmindedly straightened them, then sitting down in your desk chair. You wriggled around a bit, feeling the dampness in your parties, already regretting sitting down. With another sigh you nodded towards Spencer, an acknowledgement of his momentous victory before getting up again to go clean yourself up in the bathroom to clean up- and maybe splash some cold water on your face. Though by the smirk on his face, there was no way this wasn’t going to happen again. And, maybe with him actually letting you finish or not, the thrill was sometimes in the chase of one. You’d also have to think of your own way of retaliation in the future of course, just because you accepted defeat just now doesn’t mean there wasn't a longer war to be won. Plus perhaps you will admit your deeper feelings for him that you could now see lying beneath his eyes as well, feelings much deeper than desire.

Safe to say you just told the team that you lost fair and square, not divulging why no matter how much Penelope pried. It was without a doubt, a glorious defeat.

—

Tag list (message me if you want to be added):

All works: @shotarosleftpinky @90spumkin @kyra-morningstar @s1utformgg @takeyourleap-of-faith

All MGG characters: @muffin-cup @willowrose99

Spencer Reid/CM: @calm-and-doctor @destiny-tsukino @safertokiss @slutforthegubes @onlyhereforthefanfics

Dom Spencer: @rainsong01 @evlfknb

[morganaspendragonss]

Hello 🥰 Whump fic idea :)TK lands in the hospital, again. But this time they're serious, serious injuries, he is under a respirator, he is not breathing on his own, the doctors do not give him much chance of survival, they even advise it would be the best to prepare for the worst and say goodbye, just in case. Owen calls Gwen, she's arriving the same day with Enzo and baby junior. When in the hospital they find out how it happened and that it's mostly Owen's fault (I don't know, for example, he allowed Tk to enter the unstable building to tend to the patient, or whether he made someone else angry and this person unloaded it on TK, or Owen decided to do something reckless and TK wanted to save him or it is The arson situation from 2x12 so Gwyn arrives pregnant, without a baby of course), Gwyn slaps him twice and Enzo punches him right in the nose, breaking it, for risking TK's life. Fortunately, despite the bad prognosis, TK wakes up, but after he took his sweet time being in a coma.

holly's august extravaganza day 3: the meetings for those in my wake

thanks for the prompt! i really loved writing this one though i need to confess to toning it down a little? idk but with the way it was going it didn't feel right to have enzo break owen's nose. i hope you still like it!

ao3 | 3.3k | major character injury, coma, angst with a happy ending

For years after the divorce, Gwyn came to learn that any call from Owen was almost certainly bad news.

TK got in a fight.

TK overdosed.

TK was shot, he’s in the hospital.

Over and over, until the first words out of her mouth whenever Owen’s name flashed up on her screen were, What’s wrong?

Things have been better in the three years since her time in Texas. Gwyn suspects it’s partly TK’s influence—he’s been more than enthusiastic in getting to know his baby brother, and Isaac has latched onto TK despite only seeing him in person every few months or so. But they’ve talked as well, she and Owen, and they really are doing better. They’re almost like friends now, which is why Gwyn thinks nothing of it when he calls just after she’s put Isaac to bed for the night.

“Owen, hey,” she greets. “What’s up?”

The silence she’s answered with is the first sign that something’s wrong.

The sob that follows is the second.

“Owen?” Gwyn repeats, louder this time, her heart leaping into her throat. She sits down heavily on the sofa as she waits for Owen’s response; there’s only one thing that could make him cry like that, and tears prick at Gwyn’s eyes as she imagines TK hurt again, or worse.

“Gwyn,” Owen eventually manages to gasp out, voice wrecked. “Gwyn, it’s TK. He’s… You need to get here. You need— It’s not like last time. They don’t know if he’s going to— They don’t think— It’s bad. Really bad.”

Owen breaks off, crying harder, and Gwyn claps a hand to her mouth. She remembers well how devastated he’d been when he called about the gunshot, but this a whole other level. Gwyn’s head spins with the potential implications of that and she finds her breath coming in sharp gasps, but it’s Owen’s next words that knocks it from her altogether.

“They think we should say goodbye.”

The rest of the story comes haltingly—someone got angry after his son couldn’t be saved on a call, he came to the firehouse, he attacked TK—but Gwyn barely hears it. Her boy is in the hospital again and this time…this time he might not be coming home. She can’t understand it; she spoke to him just two days ago, they made plans for he and Carlos to visit for Isaac’s birthday, and now…

“I’m so sorry, Gwyn,” Owen finishes. She feels a flash of that age-old urge to scream at him, but she fights it off, not wanting to wake Isaac.

“I’ll be on the first flight over,” she promises, then ends the call, sliding off the couch to the floor. Her phone falls from limp fingers and harsh sobs tear from her throat, muffled by the press of her fist against her mouth.

Enzo finds her there an hour later and immediately takes her in his arms, not complaining about her tears soaking his shirt. When she tells him what happened, he insists on joining her, and Gwyn allows herself to take that shred of comfort and run with it.

She thinks it’s the only comfort she’s likely to get right now.

The next flight isn’t until morning, so Gwyn spends a sleepless night packing and unpacking their suitcases and making phone calls with the firm and her clients to cancel everything for the foreseeable. She has the brief, terrible thought about whether she should pack funeral attire, which almost sends her into a panic attack as reality hits her all over again.

Enzo saves her from it, gently guiding her to bed, but not before she packs the clothes anyway.

Isaac seems to pick up on her mood when they’re hurrying out of the house, remaining mostly quiet aside from the odd question about where they’re going. He perks up considerably when he finds out they’re heading to Austin, babbling about seeing TK, and Gwyn has to blink hard to keep from crying again. Enzo reaches over to take her hand, and he barely lets go until they’re landing in Austin.

*

The entrance to the ICU looms before her, and Gwyn feels stuck. There had been a part of her, still, that had hoped to find TK miraculously awake and on the mend, like the last time she had made this trip. She doesn’t want to believe that he’s here, hurt, maybe dying.

But he is, and she’s forcefully reminded of that fact when a kind-looking nurse approaches her hesitantly.

“Ma’am? Can I help you?”

Gwyn blinks at her, her brain taking a moment to catch up. “I, um. I’m here to see my son. TK Strand.” She pauses, then shakes her head, cursing herself internally. “Tyler Kennedy Strand.”

The nurse’s entire demeanour changes, a sympathetic smile taking over her face. “This way.” She leads Gwyn through the ICU, then points at a door near the end of the corridor. “Tyler’s room is just there. I promise, we’re doing everything we can for him.”

Gwyn nods absently, her gaze stuck on the door the nurse had indicated. She walks forward slowly, the room seeming to get further and further away until, suddenly, she’s standing on the threshold, and she sees her son.

TK is barely visible, his face half-obscured by the ventilator, half by bruises, and heavy gauze covers his forehead. His arms, resting limply at his sides, are littered with scrapes, and if Gwyn squints, she can just about make out more bandages peeking out from under the hospital gown.

She’d thought that seeing him would make it all real, but she feels separate from everything somehow, only one thought going through her mind on repeat.

This is not my son.

A quiet whisper draws her attention to the figure sitting at TK’s side. Gwyn has to suppress a gasp as she takes in Carlos’s appearance; she hasn’t seen him in person since the wedding last year, and his pale face and red-rimmed eyes cut a stark contrast to that day. He hasn’t noticed her yet, wholly fixated on TK, one hand gently stroking the tufts of hair poking out above the bandage. His lips move and Gwyn knows she should walk away, but instead she finds herself leaning closer, straining to hear Carlos’s words.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he’s saying. “I know you’re fighting and I know you’re going to try as hard as you can to come back to us—believe me, Ty, I am praying every day to see those pretty green eyes of yours open again. But I—I want you to know that it’s okay if you can’t. If it gets too hard, if you need to let go, you can. I already miss you like crazy and I really, really, don’t want to live the rest of my life without you, but the thing I can’t stand more than that is the idea of you suffering.

“Come back if you can, but if someday you find you can’t, remember that I love you and we’ll be okay. I promise.”

Carlos sniffs and ducks his head to place a gentle, lingering kiss on TK’s cheekbone. It’s such a tender, intimate moment, but it quickly shatters when Carlos looks up and spots her, his eyes going wide. “Gwyn. I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you were there.”

She waves him off, willing herself to finally step into the room. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I should have said something, but I didn’t want to interrupt.”

Carlos nods, giving her a small, sad smile, which Gwyn does her best to return. She pulls up another chair and sinks into it, reaching out to take TK’s hand. She’s startled by the coolness of his skin, and more tears burn in the back of her eyes.

“What did the doctors say?” she asks, clearing her throat and twisting her body towards Carlos, though her eyes never leave TK.

“That it was a miracle he made it through surgery,” Carlos says, sighing wearily. “Eight stab wounds, too much blood loss, damage to his organs, broken ribs—that’s all bad enough, but they’re most worried about his brain. He took at least two blows to the head, and add that to the fact he wasn’t breathing for a good few minutes… They keep saying not to speculate, but we all know the odds here.”

Carlos’s voice breaks and Gwyn reaches out to comfort him, feeling sick to her stomach at the revelation. Why anyone would do this to her boy, she can’t comprehend; she finds herself both wanting answers and feeling unable to take any more.

Owen chooses that moment to appear in the doorway, looking every bit as wrecked as he sounded on the phone. “Gwyn,” he says roughly. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Carlos moves as if to give them privacy, but Gwyn shakes her head at him, cutting off his protests before he can even get them out. “You stay with him, Carlos,” she tells him. “We’ll talk in the hall.”

They head to a quiet spot not too far from TK’s room, and Gwyn turns to face Owen, holding her arms. “What the hell happened, Owen? Why is our son lying in there, not even breathing on his own?”

A flicker of a frown crosses Owen’s face. “I told you—”

“No, you didn’t.” Gwyn clenches her jaw, staring him down. “You said he’d been attacked, not that some maniac had used him as their personal punching bag.”

A few more seconds pass before Owen relents, sighing. “There was a call,” he starts, voice heavy with sorrow. “A car accident; dad and his kid were trapped inside. We got the dad out but the son was stuck pretty good. It took a long time to free him and by then it was too late—EMS did their best, but he was gone.

“The dad went ballistic, screaming at all of us, but especially at TK. We don’t really know why, but it was probably a convenience thing; TK had been the one to break the news, he was the closest person—the guy wasn’t exactly thinking clearly. He threatened him, tried to hit him—the cops had to arrest him eventually, but you know TK. He refused to press charges, said that the dad was just in shock and that he understood.”

Gwyn smiles a little at that; her son has always been too forgiving for his own good. It’s never come back to hurt him this badly before, though.

Owen pauses, throat bobbing as he seems to work up to the next part. His voice is quiet, and he seems reluctant to meet Gwyn’s eyes. “He showed up at the firehouse a week later—the dad, I mean. He said he wanted to apologise and, I swear, Gwyn, he really did seem genuine. None of us wanted to let him near TK, but ultimately it was TK’s decision. They went round the side of the house to talk; when neither of them came back after twenty minutes, we went looking.

“By that time, the guy was gone, and TK was…” He stops and shakes his head, swallowing hard. “He could barely breathe. Tommy and Nancy did what they could and they got him here quickly, but we have no idea how long he’d been like that before we found him.”

Gwyn’s head snaps up, a white-hot anger flashing through her. “I can’t believe you,” she hisses. “You left our son alone with a man who had already threatened him for twenty minutes, Owen.”

Owen frowns. “I told you, he seemed genuine. And TK—”

Gwyn can’t help it; she slaps him. “Don’t you dare,” she grounds out, crowding into Owen’s space. “Don’t you dare act like this was his fault.”

“I wasn’t—”

Her arm moves on instinct, but before she can connect again, a hand closes around her wrist. Gwyn turns to find Enzo staring at her, brow wrinkled in confusion.

“Gwyn, what’s going on?”

She shakes her head and takes a step back from Owen, freeing herself from Enzo’s grasp. “What’s going on,” she responds tightly, “is that he is part of the reason why my son is half-dead in there.”

Enzo gapes between them. “What?”

She ignores the question, needing to focus on anything else to keep her anger from overwhelming her. “What are you doing here anyway? Where’s Isaac?”

“He’s with Grace and Judd, they offered to babysit so I could come here. What—”

“Hang on,” Owen interrupts. “What is he doing here? I figured he’d stay in New York with the kid.”

“Isaac is TK’s brother, Owen,” Gwyn says, turning on him again. “And Enzo has just as much right to be here as any of us; he was more of a father to TK than you were sometimes.”

Owen’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Him? You’re joking, right?”

Gwyn isn’t sure what happens next, who starts it, but soon they’re all yelling, insults and accusations flying around the ward. There’s a furious nurse heading their way, but before she can say anything, another voice cuts through the argument, quiet and trembling but still somehow powerful.

“Get out,” Carlos says. “All of you.”

They all turn to him, Gwyn’s lips parting in shock. Owen takes a step towards him, holding his hands out in a gesture that’s probably meant to be pacifying.

“Carlos—”

“I mean it, Owen,” he snaps, harsher than Gwyn has ever heard him before. “You all screaming at each other is the last thing any of us needs, least of all TK. The only person to blame in all this is the guy who attacked him, and he’s already in custody; he’ll get what’s coming to him. If TK—” Carlos breaks off, clenching his jaw and staring down at the floor. He closes his eyes for a moment, before breathing out shakily and looking back up at them. “If anything changes, I’ll call you, I promise. But you can’t be here right now. Go, please.”

Carlos doesn’t wait for a response before turning on his heel and going back into TK’s room, reassuming his position next to the bed. Gwyn watches him for a second, nodding when Enzo pointedly takes her elbow.

“He’s right,” she says, directed at Owen. “We should go.”

Owen glares, gearing up to argue again, but he must think better of it as he suddenly slumps, all the energy draining out of him. “Right,” he mutters. “Right.”

They file slowly out of the ICU, closely watched by the hard eyes of the nurse from before. Gwyn spares one last look before forcing herself forwards; if getting here was hard, walking away is a thousand times worse.

*

Three weeks pass with no change and, crucially, no improvement. Gwyn spends more time with Carlos than she ever has before, and she hates that it’s her son being comatose that has brought the two of them closer. A tentative peace exists between her and Owen and she knows—truly, she knows—that the attack wasn’t his fault, that there was nothing that could have stopped it.

But she can’t help but be angry that, once again, her son was seriously hurt and she wasn’t around.

She takes Isaac to see TK once, when the worst of the bruises have faded a little. She worries that he’ll be scared, and he does seem to hesitate when they reach the room; in truth, Gwyn hadn’t wanted to bring him at all, but he’d kept asking about TK and she’d found herself helpless to do anything but acquiesce.

They still haven’t told him what’s going on. No-one knows how to. All Isaac knows is that TK is a little hurt and he needs rest, and even that knowledge seems to upset him.

Once he gets used to the sight, Isaac stretches his hands out to the bed. “TK,” he says simply, looking pleadingly up at Gwyn.

She hugs him close, trying to smile for him. “TK’s asleep, sweetie,” she explains. “He needs rest.”

“When wake up?”

“I don’t know, baby. I don’t know.”

*

Three weeks pass, and the doctors start talking about options and next steps. It’s obvious what that’s code for—they want to pull the plug. They’re told to take all the time they need to discuss it but, ultimately, the decision will be Carlos’s, as TK’s husband and next of kin.

Gwyn knows what choice he’s going to make; it’s the same one she, or anyone else in his position, would make.

That doesn’t make it any easier to bear, for any of them.

Gwyn finds him in the hallway, bent over with his head in his hands. She goes over and quietly sits in the chair next to him, placing a comforting hand on his back.

There’s a long silence before Carlos sniffs and turns to her, his face the picture of devastation. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this, Gwyn,” he whispers, voice cracking. “How am I supposed to just give up on him like that?”

She shakes her head. “You’re not giving up on him, Carlos. You’re letting him go.”

“I don’t know how to do that either.”

“None of us do.”

Silence again, but this time, it’s Gwyn that breaks it first. “Listen, Carlos, I know this is hard. God knows I wish none of us were even here. But we are, and we have to do what’s best for everyone, including TK.”

“I know that,” Carlos admits. “I just don’t want to lose him.” He closes his eyes and leans into Gwyn, allowing her to wrap him in a hug. “I wish we had more time.”

Gwyn’s heart breaks all over again, and she squeezes his shaking shoulders. “We’ve got time,” she says, though she knows that’s not what he meant. “As much as you need.”

The sob she’s answered with tells her there’s not enough time in the world for Carlos to say goodbye to TK.

*

The call comes in the middle of the night. Dread pools in Gwyn’s gut as she accepts it and lifts the phone to her ear, her hands trembling.

“Owen?”

“Gwyn. TK, he—he woke up. It was only for a few seconds, but he woke up, Gwyn. The doctors said it was a miracle; they think he might actually recover.”

Gwyn gasps, a sob crawling up her throat as the news sinks in. It’s everything she’s been praying for ever since that first call, and all she can think about now is getting to TK.

“I’ll be at the hospital in fifteen,” she says. She ends the calls and raises her hands to her face, wiping away the tears beginning to fall from her eyes.

Maybe this nightmare is finally coming to an end.

*

TK is off getting tests when Gwyn arrives, but she’s finally allowed back in the room an hour later, Carlos and Owen on her heels. The ventilator has been removed, replaced by a nasal cannula, and his eyes are open—barely to slits, but Gwyn doesn’t care. TK is awake and alive, and that’s all that matters.

As soon as she’s in the chair by the bed, she reaches out for him, her touch feather-light as she strokes his cheek. “My brave boy,” she whispers wetly. “My brave, brave boy.”

TK’s head rolls on the pillow so he’s facing her and he mumbles something that’s probably meant to be a greeting, but the words jumble together and come out as gibberish.

Gwyn thinks it’s the most beautiful sound she’s ever heard.

They’ve all been briefed about the risks of brain damage and all the potential lasting consequences which could impact the rest of TK’s life. But right now, as she holds TK’s hand with Carlos on his other side and Owen at her back, Gwyn chooses to take solace in the constant rise and fall of TK’s chest and the heart monitor beeping out a steady rhythm.

There’ll be enough time for worry later; for now, her son is alive, and Gwyn can’t think of anything else that's more important.

[wakaoujisenhime]

Ah!~ I fall in love with your Takao headcanons! Can I ask headcanons about Takao from best friends to lovers?

A/N: But OF COURSE, you can, the more Takao you guys want, the better for me! ٩( ᐛ )و 

So this will be a continuation from his best friends headcanons I made a while back and for those who’d like to see a spicier version of the more or less same troupe, I linked a similar request I got below! Hope you’ll enjoy this! ❤️

Tags: Takao x reader ✅  fluff ✅  friends to lovers ✅  slight angst ✅

☞ 𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝟙    ☞ 𝕤𝕡𝕚𝕔𝕪 𝕧𝕖𝕣.

━━━━☆ ━━━━☆ ━━━━☆

living with your best friend didn’t change your relationship as much as you thought it would

the two of you were still clinging to each other like leeches, supporting the other during hard times and in general providing a shoulder to cry and lean on when needed

now that you were roommates and not only neighbors you saw Takao every single day and that came with many advantages

you both shared the housework and came up with cooking/cleaning/laundry schedules that made your joint life so much easier

Takao had decided to start working after graduation while you continued your studies (and occasionally worked at a part-time job close to your apartment)

it heavily depended on your individual schedule, but in general, the two of you had agreed that the first one home should be the one to prepare dinner and help the other one out a little

usually, Takao would be the first one home and every time you came back he greeted you like some kind of butler, helping you out of your jacket, taking your bag, leading you to the kitchen where he showed you that evening’s dinner, and lastly he’d conclude his small tour at the bathroom where he had run a bath for you

both of you were so close that all of your neighbors (especially the older ones) continuously teased you, saying what kind of cute couple the two of you were and some even went as far as to ask when you’re wedding was going to be

in the beginning, your and Takao’s cheeks would flush ever so slightly but the longer you lived there the more used to it you got, and in the end, it even reached a stage where you’d counter their remarks with your own witty and comical ones

comments such as theirs didn’t bother you that much, or at least that’s what you thought ...

a couple of months after moving in you invited some members of Shuutoku’s basketball team over for a friendly get-together and a warm dinner

it had been a lot of fun

people were teased, embarrassing situations were denounced as hilarious, compliments fell left and right, and what not

at some point though Miyaji - the club’s former captain - raised the question of whether Takao and you had finally started a romantic relationship

it was just a well-meant question and perhaps a subtle hint and yet your best friend began to deny that so strongly that you couldn’t help but feel aggrieved from his over-exaggerated reaction

the evening was kinda ruined for you and some of them noticed it and felt bad for you

in the end, Miyaji actually came up to you and apologized, saying just how much he’d regretted asking you something that was seemingly a taboo-topic

since then the relationship between your best friend and yourself was quite shaky, you began avoiding too much body contact with him, tuned down your clinginess, and even started avoiding him at times

some people think that Takao isn’t the brightest and assume that he’s quite dense, but you knew better

it didn’t take him even a week to notice that something was wrong with you and before you knew it he waited for you to come back home and asked you to take a seat across from him on the couch

“(Y/N)-chan...I’m aware that something’s been bothering you for the past few days and I know that some topics are better left unsaid, but I really hate seeing you suffer because of maybe something I did.”

his words stabbed your heart like hundred knives and even if you’d planned to keep your hurt pride to yourself, you knew that communication was key in any kind of relationship so with a bitter smile you told him about everything, how his reaction had hurt you more than his captain’s harmless question and how these new and yet unknown thoughts had begun to cloud your mind with masses of doubts

there was a brief break during which Takao’s expression grew unbelievably sad, he had expected anything but this

and then finally after what felt like hours he whispered out your name, got up from his chair, and slowly walked towards you, kneeling in front of your seated figure

“I’m truly sorry...I-I wasn’t aware of how much this actually bothered you,” he paused as he took your hands into his own and continued, “all I wanted was to make Miyagi drop that theme fast since he’s the type to talk about one topic for hours and I really didn’t want to make you uncomfortable since that evening was meant for recollecting and updating each other about our daily lives and not a relationship counseling...”

with a sigh you shook your head and couldn’t help but laugh at just how ridiculous this situation was, Takao joined you not long after

after that small misunderstanding, you two needed a bit until your relationship had normalized, but you’d be lying if you said that everything was back to how it used to be

once the imagination of Takao as your boyfriend had entered your mind you began to realize just how close the two of you truly were

him tending to your needs every time you came back home late, resembled that of a worried father-to-be whose wife was to go into labor soon

the way he always jokingly offered himself as your dinner was a cliché joke and sometimes an invitation one would often see in romance series that once again fell between lovers

and the worst for your heart was how the word ‘personal space’ wasn’t even present in his vocabulary, he’d hug you whenever he could, lean himself on your back and leave his chin in the crack of your neck at every given opportunity, and let’s not mention whenever he had trouble falling asleep (which was basically almost every day)

all those small and seemingly irrelevant gestures which didn’t usually affect you were now the trigger for a deep-red blush along your cheeks and an increased heart rate

and it didn’t help that Takao would constantly tease you whenever he noticed your flushed face

.

as time went by though you noticed that something between you two had indeed changed

now his mere presence was enough to make your heart thump wildly against your chest

the only comfort you found was that he himself had started blushing more often as well

you thought that nothing of deeper meaning was behind it and just blamed it on your behavior, but what you didn’t know was that Takao was experiencing the same thing as you

for him, it was as if every single touch - no matter how featherlight it was - set his skin on fire

every ever so small and gentle smile or grin you directed his way, immediately brightened up his mood

and let’s not even talk about the small things you do for him, like cooking, preparing some late-night snacks for whenever he has to work on a project until very late in the evening, folding his laundry, ironing his shirts, and so on...

both of you were slowly starting to acknowledge the other as an essential part of your respective lives

on top of that, innocent and sweet thoughts such as kissing each other on the lips, taking a bath together, or just doing silly things such as hiding from the people outside so that you can feel each other’s lips began dominating your minds

and what choice did the two of you have but to bottle these feelings up and hide them from each other just because you didn’t want to ruin your friendship

it was painful of course, but you continued to put yourself through with it, determined to keep this a secret for as long as necessary

unfortunately, Takao wasn’t made out of the same cloth and was slowly but surely feeling how everything was about to explode pretty soon

and then finally one day when the two of you went out shopping together some of your elderly neighbors stopped you yet again and began interrogating you guys as usual

“Have you two dears finally admitted your feelings for each other?”

there it was, their favorite question, that was strangely accurate this time

you were ready to debunk it yet again, but Takao suddenly took a hold of your hand, squeezed it slightly, and announced: “Not yet, but I’m about to!”

three pairs of wide eyes were fixated on the slightly blushing young man who stood beside you and while you were still trying to decipher whether you’d heard him right he faced you and even took a gentle hold of your second hand

“(Y/N)...I feel like this should’ve happened sooner, but my fear of losing you as my constant pillar of support was too big. Your presence was always something extremely helpful and soothing, but as of late I started to truly notice just how much more it was for me and my life. The sheer imagination of me being without you hurt me more than any game my team lost, any missed promotion chance or anything negative for that matter,” he paused and took a deep breath before continuing, “what I’m trying to say is that...(Y/N), I’d like you to become my lover.”

silent gasps could be heard, but you were too overwhelmed to pay any attention to it

the fact that he’d felt the same way and was stuck in the same situation as you were truly unbelievable, but now that you knew it all those small things you’d denounced as an effect of your own unusual behavior made sense

you looked up into the slate blue eyes of the man you’d fallen for and slowly removed your hands from his tight grip, only to then wrap your arms around his neck and bring him closer to you

Takao immediately seized the opportunity to do the same, he was anxious about what you were about to say so he at least wanted to savor what might be his very last embrace from you

“Took us long enough now didn’t it?” was all you said before you confidently took a hold of his cheeks and brought his face closer to your lips until they touched

while you two kissed ever so passionately and drowned in the liberating feeling of mutual love, the two older women next to you smiled while commenting on how they’d always known and how bad you two were hiding it

after you’d finally separated from each other you gave him your obvious answer to which he simply giggled and out of happiness began cuddling and kissing your face all over

this was truly a wonderful moment, it might not affect your relationship all too much but it was nonetheless a step towards a new and yet unknown experience that the two of you would live through while constantly supporting each other ...

[tokisguitarpick]

interruption part.1

characters: Skwisgaar Skwigelf x Reader 

doods, I really tried to make this one giant piece but I said that on friday, it’s fuckin wednesday, work has been kicking my ass, here’s what I got so far

The first time you met Skwisgaar Skwigelf was unfortunately also the first time you pissed off Skwisgaar Skwigelf. 

In your defense, you thought it would be prudent to bond with the support staff- your boss Charles, the music producer Abigail and her assistant Dick, the Klokateers, the people around the band- as soon as you could to cement your place at work first. After that, then you would really worry about Dethklok liking you. It's not that you were rude to them, hell your whole job was making sure their needs were met and they were secure and happy on a day to day basis. But if Charles asked you for a report at the same time Murderface told you to go get his dethphone from his bedroom, Charles took first priority. Which was why when you were sent to deliver a fax from Crystal Mountain Records to Abigail, you went diligently down the 4 floors it took to reach the studio and entered quietly, recognizing the red recording light on over the door. A brightly melodious guitar solo rang through the gothic studio rooms, sounding as exquisite as a Beethoven composition when unaccompanied by the rest of the death metal band, and you hovered by the door for a moment. You were nervous to disturb now that you heard exactly what they were recording. But your rationale won out and you decided to simply slip the fax to Abigail and leave.

Approaching her desk, you got a clear look at the source of the music and it caused your step to falter. Skwisgaar, tall and imposing, shredded his guitar with deft hands inside the recording booth, his fingers moving faster on the Gibson neck than your eyes could follow.

Instead, they moved to his face, taking in his closed eyes, his full lips parted, and a light sheen of sweat covering his skin as he worked. His long, cornsilk hair was uncharacteristically swept up in a messy bun at the nape of his neck, short tendrils made loose from exertion clinging to the edges of his face or else flowing around him. A bead of sweat caught your eye as it rolled down his Adams apple and your gaze trailed to his thin, defined arms and the muscles working under his skin, his long fingers showing off every ounce of skill he had. He looked nothing like the guitarist that took the stage with Dethklok, giving a heavy and thrashing performance. He looked at peace, a man entirely in his element. He looked heavenly.

Suddenly, every headline calling him a rock and roll god over a photo of him covered in ghoulish makeup felt entirely false. If only they could see what was in front of you now.

Sadly, all good things come to an end. Your faltered step caused you to squeak as you caught your balance. Abigail jumped and turned in her chair. The music ended with an abrupt squeal and Skwisgaar's icy blue eyes snapped open.

"Oh, who the fucks is this?!" he spat into the mic and you blushed, embarrassment finding a home in the pit of your stomach. Abigail sighed, looking you over with a crooked eyebrow.

"So sorry, I was just bringing this to you." You handed Abigail the fax and she unfolded the paper to read it over. Skwisgaar, who seemed to find your interruption bothersome enough, bristled as your eyes flickered between him and the music producer. He yanked the guitar strap off his shoulder and snarled, "Not evens anythings important! Get the fucks out of heres!" He held the guitar by the neck and gestured aggressively with it.

You jumped, turning tail and hurrying away as fast as you could without running. The only reasoning for his behavior came at the end of an email from Abigail, a throwaway line about it being crunch time with the production of the newest album. But sadly, that was the start of your professional relationship with the Dethklok member and it was a shame, that one instance coloring the way he treated your presence in Mordhaus. He didn't reply when you asked the band questions, he turned his nose up when you had to contain some of the band's more brutal ideas, he only ever referred to you as a servant, the list went on.

It was taxing and honestly, a little upsetting. You had managed to piss off Nathan your first week here as well but by the next morning, he greeted you with a joke about it and asked you to make a pot of coffee. You spent many afternoons wondering if there was any way to make it up to the haughty guitarist. And wondering what exactly you needed to make up in the first place.

The next climactic moment in your relationship came around the four month mark of your employment.

The acrid smell of burning plastic reached you as you walked past the hallway leading to the kitchen, making you sigh. You put a jump in your step, something at odds with the very exasperated expression you could feel on your face, and hurried to the source of the smell, the armful of dirty laundry you'd picked up in the living room discarded as you jogged. Entering the kitchen, it took no time to zero in on the small fire slowly growing on the stovetop. 

Toki and Skwisgaar stood over it, the former blowing frantically at the quickly blackening frying pan while the former flapped at the fire with a hand towel. The mere sight of Toki's long hair billowing around the open flame made your chest seize. "Guys, guys," you will be the first to admit, your voice came out in a shriek, "stop! Move!"

Toki jumped away from the stove with a welp, his eyes wild when he saw you. You snatched the fire extinguisher off the wall by the door and ran up to the stove. Skwisgaar still hadn't moved. If anything, he seemed to step in your way, blocking you from the fire. "I has it under controls, leave." His voice was hard and cold, almost jarring in contrast to the scene playing out.

 And in your bewilderment, you snapped. Months of irritation compounding itself into a rage that bubbled past your lips, you growled, "Skwisgaar Skwigelf. If you think-", you grabbed a fistful of his shirt and wrenched him back, "-for a goddamn SECOND-" Skwisgaar stumbled and you caught his slim waist in the crook of your arm, "-I'm going to explain to Charles-", you threw him behind you and lined up the extinguisher, "-his most arrogant guitarist got third degree burns because he was too fucking STUBBORN-" aim, "-to MOVE!" fire. You pulled the trigger on the fire extinguisher and doused the stove in a thick, chemical scented foam, holding it there until the fire was smothered. Breathing heavily, you spun around and shoved the extinguisher into the blonde's arms. "Then you're stupid, too," you murmured with venom.

Skwisgaar was a tall man so even face to face as you were, he still towered over you, his eyes icy and his hands overlapping yours on the safety equipment. His eyes traced your face and you could the heat coming off your cheeks but using all your strength, you softened your expression. "Stop freezing me out. I'm just here to help." Your voice was still low but much gentler, which seemed to throw him off. Skwisgaar's haughty face mellowed and his eyes dropped to your mouth, his bottom lip finding a place between his teeth unconsciously.

"Ja," Skwisgaar finally replied, a terse acceptance as he took the fire extinguisher from you. His eyes hadn't left your face for a moment and he just rocked back on his heels, keeping the equipment awkwardly held in front of him. "I suppose Charles woulds finds dat upsettings."

Breathing a sigh of relief, you finally looked back at the stove and frowned at the charred frying pan. "Can I ask what you guys were doing?"

Toki finally piped up, seeming relieved that you weren’t yelling at them. "We's were tryings to makes a grilleds cheese."

Eyebrows furrowed, you studied the charcoal in the pan until you recognized it as a whole block of cheese. The mental image of a new, freshly purchased block of cheese, still wrapped in the plastic, being placed by these adult idiots into the frying pan made your blood pressure rise and you immediately put it to the side, deciding against any other questions.

"Okay. Well. I'll order us some pizza."

That cheered Toki up immediately but Skwisgaar simply nodded once, his cheeks turning a very light pink.

From that point on, Skwisgaar seemed to slowly accept your place as a member of the support staff. Between riffing on your jokes and agreeing with you on occasion, you would've said that your relationship with Skwisgaar was the best it had ever been.

Unfortunately, this came with an unforeseen consequence. 

Now, you had a massive crush on Skwisgaar.

Okay, sure. Technically, you'd had a crush on him for a few years. Everyone in the world knew Dethklok and regardless if they liked the music or not, everyone had a favorite. Yours had always been the Swed. And sure, he looked hot as fuck in the recording booth all those momths ago. But all the following cold shoulder encounters had turned you off of the rock star, the withering look he shot you whenever you had tried to reign in the band members kicking any thoughts of fancy to the curb.

But that was before. This was after. The shock you felt later that day when he addressed you by name for the first time was electrifying. Instead of jestful barbs at your expense on the off chance he acknowledged you, Skwisgaar joked that you took no shit so Murderface better stop riling you up. No longer barking "Moves!" if you were in his way, he simply slipped past you, his hand warm against your upper- though once or twice, lower- back. Now you preened yourself when you knew you would see him, not wishing you could hide. It was driving you crazy.

You felt like a groupie or a schoolgirl, constantly fixated on your crush. Wishing and scheming to get closer when he was around you, his presence obscuring your thoughts when he was away. You had read all the print interviews available in the Mordhaus archives, watched the video interviews online, and had even followed a Dethklok fan Instagram to get a smattering of band photos on your timeline every day. You justified it all as being diligent at your job. But that only went so far, even with yourself. You stayed there, living in limbo for months as you wrestled with your feelings and professionalism. Skwisgaar, however, seemed oblivious to the effect he was having on you. You caught him staring at you sometimes but it was so few and far between that you simply chalked it up to him zoning out.

Or that's how you lived until Christmas.

You celebrated your winter holiday early so you could be on call for the band during actual Christmastime, which turned out to be a good idea. The mothers of Dethklok decided to visit the week leading up to the 25th, having skipped the year before on Charles' recommendation and they seemed exceedingly cranky due to that. The week itself was brutal - Nathan was broody and even quicker to anger than normal, Pickles hadn't been seen sober since they learned about the impending arrival, Murderface was essentially a walking scab from the anxious picking he'd subjected his arms to, and Toki was catatonic.

Of course, your focus was caught most by Skwisgaar. Sulky with a sour stomach, he kept his head down all week. He had his guitar glued to his hands and was second only to Toki in using avoidance as a defense mechanism.

It was incredibly stressful juggling between the bristled band members and their neurotic mothers. Charles himself said it would be at least a month before they could schedule any public appearances so the boys could decompress, and ideally avoid a PR nightmare. So to say you were glad to see their mothers finally leave, only Nathan's thanking you for attending to her, was an understatement.

After a long day of taking everyone to eat then to the airport, you had retired to your small Mordhaus apartment as soon as you could - which was pretty soon as the band seemed just as exhausted and had disappeared once you had gotten home.

You didn't reemerge until after midnight, sneaking out and down the hall to find something to eat at a quarter past twelve. The house was quiet on your walk to the kitchen but after grabbing your snack - a cold cut sandwich you had wrapped in a paper towel to avoid leaving a trail of crumbs - you heard soft, twinkling music coming from the living room as you passed it on your way to the elevators. Pausing to listen, you recognized it as guitar and wondered which of the guitarists were playing, given that Nathan was the only band member who couldn't. You wondered if Murderface had seen you head down and was trying to get your attention, a ploy he had used before, ending with your curiosity getting the best of you. You crept to the living room entrance to peek.

Skwisgaar sat on the sofa facing you, pale and glowing in the dim light coming from the arcade games. His eyes were closed as his fingers glided over the neck of his Gibson, his silky hair draping down his neck and naked shoulders. Seemingly dressed for bed, he was shirtless - though his guitar hid his midriff, to your disappointment - with a pair of black sweatpants on. He seemed lost in his music, strumming out a low melody with mastery.

Your breath caught as you took in the sight and you stood there silently, trying to photograph the moment in your mind, until you registered his expression.

Devastation.

His eyes were closed but tears were streaming down his gaunt cheeks, his quivering eyebrows were furrowed, and he was mouthing a song to himself, his full lips pale. He looked like a man at war with himself, lost and broken. The music was no longer soft and twinkling, it hung in the air like a funeral dirge.

As the past few days ran through your mind, every mention of Skwisgaar's childhood came back to you and all the pieces suddenly clicked into place. This wasn't a man lost, this was a man, once again, in his element. The grief and sickness he had been feeling all week was flowing out of his guitar like the tears from his eyes.

Feeling your own eyes prickling, you felt like this was too much, too personal, for you to see. But despite that, your heart ached and you were stepping forward before you registered the motion. "Skwisgaar?"

[mxvladdy]

Flutter

Fandom: Devil May Cry

Contains: pregnancy talk (kinda), angst, and drama

Pairing: Dante x GN!Reader

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy and a brief mention of terminating (like a sentence but still)

Back on my bullshit with the baby fics lol. I love the trope idk why.

Thump thump thump-thump thump thump

Dante stirs with a huff of annoyance, his ears twitch focusing on the insufferable rhythm that was stopping him from resting. It started a few hours ago. Nothing major, something he could definitely doze through. The slow irregular was almost calming, until it got louder. At first he had chalked it up to one of the many freaky experimental weapons dangling in Nico’s tiny workspace at the back of the crowded van. They tended to pop and hiss if some raw materials got too close. But it had picked up in the past hour, growing consistent and strong, really strong. Strong enough to make it hard to ignore. Dante cracks open a bloodshot eye looking around at the van’s occupants to find the culprit.

Nero sat oblivious to the world on the floor across from him leaning on the side of the van’s tire well. His eyes are shut, and his face relaxes as the adrenaline of the day finally starts to seep out of his system. He nods his head along to the tunes blasting out of the jukebox in the corner. He was oblivious to the accusatory glare of his uncle. Dante crosses the kid off as the likely suspect of his annoyance. Nero looked about ready to pass out, each bobble of his head becoming more erratic and jerky as sleep started to take over. He clearly wasn’t hearing this.

So, he turns to the front of the van to check on the others. The ladies were chatting idly in the front. Nothing super exciting gossip wise. The three of them were tossing little jabs at each other. Well, Lady and Trish were, Nico was hiding a smirk behind a freshly lit cigarette as the two grew heated. The three of them called it “friendly bitching” but he still wasn’t all that sure. Whenever Lady or Trish used that tone with him he was about to either get robbed eight ways to Sunday by one of them or his ass kicked. The two human women seemed oblivious to the noise...perhaps Trish heard it? Hmmm-nah. Trish didn’t seem to notice the steady thumping that had now become a hyper fixation to him.

Huffing the hunter settles back down in the couch cushions of the couch to look out the window at the blur of the scenery passing by. The hum of the van’s engine and the low roar of the A/C were almost enough to drown out the noise filling his skull. He pops a finger in his ear digging out some wax. Did that smack across the head early knock something? Did a gun go off too close? Wait... shouldn’t he hear ringing if that was the case? Ye, the more he focused on it, it wasn’t inside his head. He checks out the window, his hand itching for a gun. Was a demon really that dumb to follow a van filled with demon hunters? He snorts at his question. Of course, they were. He was pretty sure they had finished the contract with a 100% kill count. Still, he checks out the window, just in case.

“I’m guessing you hear it too?” Vergil stirs from his meditative stupor, popping his neck with a satisfying grunt before turning his gaze to Dante. All of his younger brother’s squirming finally got too much for him to ignore. Vergil focused on his sibling, arms crossed over his freshly bandaged chest. “Really?” He looks down to his lap in disgust. Dante smirks, wiggling his muddy boots where they rested crossed on his thighs.

“What can I say? You’re ridiculously comfy.” Dante smirks. He knew his dick of a brother would threaten to stab him for dirtying his clothes, but he had a trump card, and he was going to use it. They both look down at your sleeping form sprawled on Dante’s chest and a part of Vergil's legs. You lay on him, curled up in a neat little ball on his chest. A dark spot grew beneath where your cheek was squished on his cotton shirt. Dante can’t help the smile that creeps across his face. He pulls his signature coat tighter around you and strokes your face with a only slightly grimy finger. Vergil sighs, settling back down, careful not to wake you either. He had a big ol’ sweet spot for you, and damn Dante couldn’t blame him.

Thumpthumpthumpthumpthump

Dante hisses, pulling away from your peaceful expression, jealous for a brief moment that your weak human hearing couldn’t pick up on the invasive noise. “You sense where it’s coming from?” He rumbles low in his chest, careful not to disturb you. His brother sits silently for a moment wiping at his drowsy eyes. Dante watches his ear twitch minutely picking up on every sound in the immediate vicinity.

“No, I-” His head snaps back to Dante so fast he was surprised Vergil didn’t give himself whiplash. His silver eyes are wide with shock for a moment before softening to an expression Dante only saw when he would talk with Kyrie over dinner. It was warm, protective, and far too gentle a face for him to be pulled out for him. Dante looks back over his shoulder on instinct before it hits him, hard. Vergil wasn’t looking at him, he was looking at you. Oh shit, oh shit.

Dante focuses his senses on you before he had been merely using his broad range listening figuring it was an outside threat. He smells you first, your natural scent was a soft and sweet thing, like moss by a river bed, or freshly turned soil. It only got earthier after a day of hard work. The faint scent of gunpowder lingered on you too, and something else, something more hormonal and almost floral. Beneath your changing scent, he hears your heart thumping steadily in your chest. That was always a comforting sound to him, an anchor whenever he worried for your safety. But underneath it, he heard it. It was a rapid rhythm over yours, in you.

Dante jerks up, tumbling to the floor and cracking his head hard on the metal guards of the stairs. You would have toppled with him if Vergil hadn’t lunged to grab you. “What?” You look around confused but alert. The van is silent in the aftermath of the sudden burst of energy, all faces now turned to the three of you. Vergil holding you close to his chest while you focus on Dante. “You ok?” You look him over, noticing how pale he suddenly was as he looked at you. He was breathing heavily and panicked. His silver-grey eyes flitting between yours and up to Vergil’s.

“Ye,” He croaks, running a hand through his dirty hair not moving from his spot on the dirty floor. “Ye-shit, sorry just slipped in my sleep.”

“Quite a ‘slip’.” You wiggle out of Vergil’s hold and come to bend over Dante. You put the back of your hand to his forehead. You had all gotten pretty banged up this mission, and as usual, Dante had taken the brunt of it. He laughs a little too forcefully to be considered natural and pushes your hand away to get up.

“You know me. I’m full of surprises.” He flops back onto the couch looking at you oddly before opening his arms up to you. He fights against the tremble he feels spreading across his whole body.

You catch the sour look growing on Vergil’s face, it was boiling over to murderous. He shakes his head before sitting back in his spot and reaching for a magazine.

“Everything alright back there?” Nico shouts looking up into the rearview mirror.

“Yeh-yeh.” Dante waves not taking his eyes off you. “Just my old man senses getting to me.” The van collectively snorts at that, all turning back to what they were originally doing. Picking up his discarded coat you climb back into the cradle of your boyfriend's arms.

Boyfriend. You smile into his sweaty neck. It was a new term for both of you and your relationship. You two have been skirting around the idea of a committed relationship for months now. You’ve been with the gang for years now, flitting in and out of each other's life mission after mission as a freelance mercenary. Dante welcomed you into the fold of his merry band of misfits well enough, but you could see the line in the sand he drew pretty easily.

You respected it. Life in this business was hard and sometimes very short. He was slow to open up and trust, not with just you, but anyone. You got it, you understand his hesitation. Once you both established that the feelings you felt for each other went beyond good friends the lines and walls he built began to fade. The few months of you two trying out the word have been going well. Or, at least you thought so. Dante seemed pleased enough too. The few dates you two were able to scrap your collective pennies together for were a blast. Spontaneous coffee dates, walks down none demon-infested streets and parks. Once he even took a weekend off to go cross country with you. That weekend had been the most relaxed you had ever seen him, and as a bonus, the sex had been phenomenal too.

“You ok?” You kiss the stubble on his strong jaw, taking in the hard look in his eyes. His arms were rigid around you, protective yet also isolating. He looked shut-off, lost deep in his mind back in that place you knew he went whenever something was deeply troubling him. Dante said nothing for a moment, his large palm rubbing your lower back in stiff robotic movements. “Dante?”

He snaps out of it with a jerk. “Ye babe- just tired.” He kisses the worry from your brow and slips back into your original position, arms locking securely over your middle. He listens to your breathing and heart slow as you drift off, the little thumping underneath beating on.

From the moment Dante stepped out of the van he shut down. Not just from you, but everyone. He wasn’t sure if it was intentional or just instinct after years of protecting himself. He noticed it happening from afar like he was on the sidelines and completely unable to control what he was doing. He took job after job that Morrison threw at him, not waiting for backup or help. He began staying in his room, slinking upstairs instead of his usual hang out spot down in his office to be social. He just leaves everyone behind. He knows Lady and Trish will blow it off, they were used to the odd mood swing by now, chalking it up to mission fatigue. You knew better though, and he loved you for it. Even if it irritated him right now.

The first few days after that mission Dante saw you trying to pretend like you didn’t notice the walls he was rebuilding around himself. He wanted to believe that you couldn’t see how he turned up the jukebox every time you stepped into Devil May Cry, or that you pretend not to notice how his eyes would drift to look at anything but you when you stood in front of him. It hurt, it hurt to do this, but he couldn’t stop this self sabotage he was inflicting on himself and the stress he was pushing onto you. He just couldn’t take it.

He saw his mother every time he looked at you, could smell the ash and sulfur, could remember how his young lungs filled with smoke as he cried for something he could never get back while his childhood burned around him. He couldn’t do it, so he stopped seeing you. Not that it helped much. He heard the beating every time you came near trying to talk to him, so he stopped listening too. He didn’t know what else to do.

“If you put your hair back I swear I wouldn’t be able to tell you apart from your brother anymore, especially with that new attitude you're sporting.” Dante hears the slight edge in your voice. You sat in your now usual spot on the edge of his desk, before that day his lap would have been filled with your warm sweet body. You didn’t look happy in the least bit. You looked exhausted. He doesn’t look up from his magazine, a slow buzz of panic begins to fill his ears. Were you sick? Did you know?

He puts up another wall. “Doubt it,” He flips a page of his magazine reaching blindly for his beer. “I’m still the better looking one.” More silence. Dante feels your hard stare from where you sat.

“Need something?”

Your shoulders slump. “No-it’s nothing Dante.” He feels himself break just a little at the moisture threatening to spill from your lashes before they are blinked away. You leave without saying goodbye. He doesn’t see you again after that, your spot is soon replaced with piles of empty bottles.

“I expected better from you.”

Dante chokes on his beer, the foam shooting up into his nose and bringing tears to his eyes as it burns its way back to his throat. “Damn it, Vergil! Knock sometime?” His brother says nothing storming over to his desk and kicking a chair out to sit next to him. The look on his face was venomous. “Don’t give me that look.” Dante sighs, popping the cap off of another beer bottle.

“What look?”

Dante waves the butt of his bottle at him. “That! That look. It’s the one you always give me right before you stab me.”

Vergil chuckles humourlessly. “I just might if you continue to ignore your growing issue.” He pushes leaning into Dante’s space.

Dante bristles feeling like a trapped dog. “They should find out on their own-”

“Brother-”

Dante cuts him off with a swipe of his hand, amber liquid sloshing over his desk and lap. He feels his control slipping. The heat of his devil form simmering just below the surface. “I don’t want to talk about this.” I don’t want to acknowledge this.

“It’s been weeks.” Vergil presses on lean in close to his twin. “Will there ever be a right time?”

Dante bares his fangs in warning. His fingers itching to curl up and punch his brother. “That is rich coming from you. Remind me again, how many times have you tried to kill your son?” He meant for it to hurt, to let that barb sink in deep and fester. Vergil doesn’t even react, his gaze still cool and steady.

“I regret it-in parts. But I am not doing this for you.” Dante frowns. He had figured that. When Vergil arrived with Dante all those months ago torn up and bloodied from quite literally crawling out of Hell the welcome he got from the crew had been...lukewarm to put it mildly. They weren’t openly hostile, but it got pretty close sometimes. Only you and Nero had been pleasant to his brother right off the bat. The others came around eventually, but Vergil had taken a real shine to you. You were inquisitive and hungry to prove yourself, but smart enough to know when to back down. It’s what drew him to you, so it would make sense Vergil liked it too. “I cannot change my past actions, nor would I,” Dante scoffs. “But you have been given yet another opportunity that I envy.” He looks over his shoulder to the empty office. He couldn’t lie and say that he didn’t still envy his younger brother and his successes. To be free-to have had a life, dare he say to act almost human? Dante had always been the friendlier and kinder of the two, even as kids. He was sociable and street smart. Most importantly, people trusted him.

Then he found you, a most extraordinary mate. Vergil knew Dante would never admit it vocally but he shows his love with how he acts around you. Dante was always brash and foolhardy but he was milder with you. Whenever you were in the room his sole focus was always on you. His eyes, his body, every part of his being just seemed to gravitate to you. Whenever you paced, pissed from a recent job he would follow in his chair rolling left and right to keep his body in line with you. Even on the field, he stayed close, a towering figure of red and flames. To have him cast you out like this... Vergil shakes his head. “Why are you stalling?” He asks.

“They should find out on their own,” Dante repeats himself.

“And what if they decide not to tell you? What if they decide not to go through with it? You are limiting their time frame, Dante. You are putting them both in danger.” Vergil’s words strike deep. If he can’t get his brother to see reason now, then he will have to intervene. If Dante never forgave him for this transgression, then so be it.

The roar of primal rage was the only warning Vergil got before he was airborne. His back colliding hard against the old oak bookshelves across the room, Dante’s splintered desk pinning him for a moment before he is being dragged up the shelves by his neck. Empty bottles and old tomes clatter to the floor. He matches his brother’s energy shifting in a blaze of blue fury until he faces his red counterpart. “You lash out, why? Because you know I’m right?” He hisses around bared razor sharp fangs. “Do you hope they will leave you?” Something passes through Dante’s scleraless eyes. “It won’t be like before, brother.”

The whine Dante emits sounds like a wounded animal. It was high and reedy, it was filled with turmoil. Vergil couldn’t stop the sharp bark of laughter that fell from his lips. Unbelievable. “Dante.” Vergil grabs one of the claws locked around his throat. “For all your foolish and idiotic behavior you have built yourself a family. Do you honestly think any of them would let something happen? Do you think I would let something happen?” The fist around his neck loosens and drops.

“I want them to live a normal life.” Dante steps away, his voice uncertain. “Look at us- at Nero and Kyrie. Being what we are, we have royally screwed them over.” He stares down at his rough armored hands. His elytra pulses red veins with demonic energy. “And a damn kid? Nero got by alright, but narrowly. Do I look like someone that can handle this?”

“No.” Vergil can’t lie, it would only hurt you in the end. “Not at first. While I have no right to talk about being a father, I know you can do it far better than I.” He smiles to himself. “‘sides, at least your better half has a head on their shoulders.”

“Gee, thanks.” Dante grunts retreating to where his desk used to be. He breathed deeply and shifted back to his human form. Damn it, he had just paid off the repairs from the last time he wrecked the place. Bending over to pick up his magazine, the two were interrupted by his door bursting open. Nero and Lady bursting through bickering heatedly at each other before they notice the mess.

“Did we interrupt something?” Nero steps open the splinters of Dante’s old desk taking in his half triggered father.

“No.” The brothers say in unison.

“Good-” Lady pushes forwards, tossing a missive to Dante. He catches it with deft fingers and rips it open. “Normally I would have taken this on myself with the kid-since you’ve been sulking.” She shoots him a scathing look. “But we need all boots on the ground. Trish and your flickering flame are already there, but this portal just isn’t budging.”

“What!” Vergil snaps. Dante stares blankly at the letter, a high pitch whining growing in his ears. It was getting hard to breathe. “You left them there? They are vulnerable.” The blue devil grabs the letter from his brother looking at the address briefly before grabbing Yamato before rushing for the door.

Nero shouts after his father in confusion, his outburst uncharacteristic for him. “The hell was that about?” Nero watches the skies as the blue figure disappears. “They are perfectly capable of handling themselves…”

“Get in the van. I’ll see you there.” Dante grits out, crumbling the paper up and tossing it aside. He flys out moments later, guns and swords are forgotten. Anything that touches you would be getting ripped to shreds with his bare hands. He travels in a blur of panic fighting the sense of guilt threatening to overcome him. How could he be so stupid? Just because you weren’t at the office didn’t mean that you weren’t still taking jobs. He always worried when you went out solo- or without him, but he was confident in your abilities. A few scrapes and bruises weren’t anything to stress over. It wasn’t something to stress about before. You were still on the field and it was his damn fault.

The sound of gunfire and the roars of dying demons draws him in. Dante’s sharp eyes find you immediately. You were holding your own. You back in a corner but your guns were hot, dropping demon after demon with near flawless aim. Instinctively his demon side rumbles in pride before he squashes the feeling. Now wasn’t the time. Vergil beat him there by minutes but was already covered in gore as he assists you from above, slicing through the almost endless wave of beasts. Dante lands near you grabbing a Fury in midjump throwing it away to splatter against a building yards away. “About time you showed up!” Trish shouted from her perch lightning crackling around her. He ignores her, instead he launches himself at the gaping maw of the portal. He fights with reckless abandon, each wound and injury fueling his fire. One more hit on him just meant one less directed at you.

The fighting didn’t last long after Nero and Lady arrived adding enough fire support that he was able to destroy the portal and clean up the remaining hellspawn. The moment it was Dante was on you. “The hell were you thinking!” He rounds on you his massive body crowding your space.

You hold your ground staring up at him. “Hey, so glad to finally hear from you.” You crane your neck up to meet his glowing eyes. “I love it when my boyfriend finally remembers I exist.”

“You could have gotten hurt!” He glosses over your snark and checks you out. You were fine, good.

You back away from him throwing your hands up in confusion. “Yes? That’s kind of par for the course isn’t it?” You were baffled by his behavior. Weeks. Weeks! Weeks of ignoring your calls, and a conveniently empty office every time you tried to drop by, and now that you have his attention the first thing he does is yell at you? Where did he get off? In fact, his shit attitude only angered you more. “Ya know what? I don’t want to hear it.” You turn your head to where Nico sat leaning out of her driver-side window. She waves at you. “Can you give me a lift back to my place? I got to grab some fresh clips before heading back out.”

A red hand blocks your exit. “No-” Dante grabs your forearm gently tugging you to look at him. His natural heat was a comfort you didn’t realize you missed so much. “Babe-let me handle it.”

“Dante,” You try to pull away. “It’s my job. What has gotten into you?”

He looks over to his brother, the conflict he had been trying to avoid closing in too fast for him.

Vergil holds his stare and shrugs. “Come-the two need to talk, let’s head back for now.” Asshole. The rest of the group follows his eldest brother casting curious glances over their shoulders as they pile into the van. He really wasn’t ready for this.

The two of you watch them go in silence. “Let me take you back? Please?” Dante let’s go of your arm. You nod, it’s not like you have any choice now. Well, you could walk, your body screams at the thought of moving any more than necessary. You’ve been getting exhausted faster and faster these days. Perhaps the stress of the job was getting to you. He scoops you up in his giant arms stretching his wings out to their full and impressive length before taking to the sky. He glides through the city taking extra care to make it as smooth as possible for you. His landing was as silent on the empty streets surrounding your apartment building.

The mid-afternoon sun was high overhead, the perpetual fog of the city finally breaking enough to let in the heat of the day. You slide from his arms and lead him up the steps to your door. Swinging the door wide you look up at him. “Do you mind?”

“What?”

You point to his devil form. “Shrinking? I don’t think you can fit.”

Oh right. He chuckles nervously. “Ain’t nothing a bit of lube and patience can’t fix right?” You don’t laugh, your lips pull taught. He coughs shifting in a flash of heat. Once he’s human he squeezes through the narrow door frame and just stares at you. Dante shuffles from side to side. Great. Now what?

You rub at your neck weary you could feel another knot growing. Weeks ago you had a whole speech laid out for when you got him through your door. You wanted to chew him out, to yell at him for cutting you out so unceremoniously. Shout that if he was going to break up with you at least do it cleanly, not this emotional roller coaster. A sense of anger fills you. Damn it, was this really it? It wasn’t like this was the first time a partner has done this. You just had hoped that Dante would be different. He had always been so dependable. “Just make it quick, Dante.” You didn’t have the steam for this right now. You felt nauseous and a pulsing head coming on. Ugh, and you still have that job waiting for you.

Dante’s silver brows scrunch up. “Make what quick?”

You wave at the distance between the two of you. “This. This breakup. Do it fast so it’ll give me the adrenaline to get through my next job so I can pass out tonight and get some sleep.”

Any other day Dante’s look of sheer shock would have been hilarious- today just wasn’t one of those days. “You think? Heh-shit yes, I can see why...” He rakes a hand through his disheveled hair. “It’s not like that, I- I was running from my problems again.”

Your hackles raise in anger. “I’m a problem now?”

“What! No, that’s not what I’m trying to say.” He points to himself. “I’m the problem. I ruin everything I touch!” His hurt cuts through your aggression.

“Dante-” You have had this discussion before. “You know I don’t think that.”

“You should.” He cuts you off, his expression imploring. “I messed up-I messed up big time with you. I should have said something the moment I knew but I just locked up and ran, like always.”

Knew? Knew what? “Dante, I don’t understand.”

“I-you...how are you feeling of late? I don’t know anything about this stuff, different?” His eyes swipe over your dusty battle garb. You feel his eyes stop at your navel holding there too long to be considered a coincidence before dropping to your feet.

“I’m sorry.” His breath hitches, getting dangerously close to a feeling he had been bottling up for too long. You are quiet, doing the math in your head. He hears your heartbeat pick up, your breathing becoming fast and shallow.

“Get out.”

His heart sinks. What did he expect? Closing the distance between you he reaches for you, his hand hovering by your face waiting to see if you will let him touch you. You don’t move, don’t even look up at him when his hands cup your face. So he moves crouching down to get a look at you. Your gaze is blank but resolute.

“I’m sorry.” He tries again. You ignore him far too engrossed in your revelation. Idly you trace a palm down to your stomach before flinching away is burned. “I’ll-I’ll be around…” He trails off all steam lost. At a loss he does the only thing he can think to do and flees, disappearing back into the streets outside your home like the coward he was.

[isthisthingeven0n]

starting over, with you : s.r

after everything you went through with spencer, life decided to give you another shot. and this time, neither of you took the opportunity for granted. (3.5K)

we’re finally here, the epilogue to this little series. thank you for reading and supporting it. i hope you like the ending as much as i enjoyed writing it. 

knowing you / forgetting you / remembering you / with or without you / starting over, with you 

“She truly is just wonderful,” Maggie happily sighs as she rests her head in her hands, staring out dreamingly to the front door whilst you clean the spout of the steamer. “what did I do to find someone so just,” Maggie trails off and you quickly notice from the corner of your eye her standing up straighter.

Following her line of vision, you clear your throat as the woman in question walks in. Her blonde hair flows behind her shoulders as she slips her jacket off, resting it over her tote bag.

“Hey, sunshine.” She beams to Maggie who suddenly has lost the ability to speak. “Hey, Y/n.” She waves over to you as Maggie chuckles under her breath nervously.

Moving to stand beside Maggie, you nudge her playfully. ���Use your words Mags,” You mutter.

“Yeah, I know that,” Maggie retorts as she focuses on the woman she’s been seeing, Delilah, for the past few weeks. “what can I get for you, D?”

Raising your eyebrows, you just catch the smirk on Maggie’s lips before you busy yourself once again, not wanting to get involved.

Slipping aside from the counter you pick up two plates and the muffin you kept from this morning. “So, this is the girl then?” Sitting down opposite him, you can’t help but smile at the excitement in his gaze as he focuses on you.

“That’s Delilah,” You tell him, passing him a plate as you split the muffin in half. “you were in such a rush this morning I thought I’d keep this as a treat when you finished.”

Smiling brightly at the muffin in front of him, he shifts for a moment before taking a bite. “Nothing beats your blueberry muffins. Did you know that blueberries are filled with antioxidants and phytoflavinoids. They’re a top choice for doctors and nutritionists as they also contain high levels of potassium and vitamin c.”

Chuckling under your breath, you poke your half of the muffin with your knife. “I don’t think it counts as much once they’ve been baked though, Spence.” You state, glancing up as Spencer chews another piece of muffin, his eyes not leaving yours.

“True, but you’re a benefit of these muffins too.” Spencer mutters, tearing his eyes from you as your lips part, humour filling the space around you.

“Did you just try and use a line on me?” You remark as Spencer shakes his head profusely. “Because if so, it was shocking.”

Spencer shyly smiles up at you as a small laugh leaves his lips. “Well, something worked clearly.” He reaches out, taking your hand in his just as Maggie rushes over to you.

“Sorry to interrupt lovebirds, but we’re out of pumpkin spice syrup.” Maggie sighs heavily, focusing on you with endless apologies in written across her expression.

Taking your hand from Spencer’s, you rise to your feet. “If you’re gone before I get back, I’ll meet you at mine?” You ask as you rest your hand on Spencer’s shoulder.

“I’ll wait, Y/n.” Spencer tells you as he turns his head, kissing your hand gently before you follow behind Maggie. “Don’t you worry.”

*

You could already see kids rushing around in various costumes as parents ran frantically behind them. Giggles of excitement and evident sugar rushes fill the air as brown and orange leaves coat the ground.

Leaning behind the counter the all-consuming scents of cinnamon, hazelnut and pumpkin spice filled your nostrils, acquainted by the occasional breeze of fresh air whenever a customer entered or departed.

Halloween always came around too quickly as you busied yourself with seasonal treats and limited edition beverages that brought new customers in every year. Yet, this year it was different. Usually, you’d spend the holiday working through the evening and spend time with Gary or your friends. It was always a quieter holiday compared to others, but this year things weren’t going to be the same.

“Come on, you have to tell me what your costume is.” Maggie practically begs you as you shake your head once again.

“It’s a secret, Mags.” You remind her for the twelfth time this week. “Besides, Spencer picked it out.”

A loud groan escapes Maggie's lips as you glance over your shoulder as she crosses her arms. “That means it’s going to be all nerdy and not slutty.” She rolls her eyes, watching as you nod along, knowing it’s true.

“There’s some slutty element to it.” You shrug a shoulder, trying to convince yourself moreso than Maggie. “I personally love it,” You comment under your breath before returning to work in the hope of distracting your mind a bit longer.

“Are you nervous at all?” Gary emerges from the far side of the cafe, his left arm still trembling as he grips onto a tray tightly.

Looking between them both, you roll your eyes. “You two trying to push my buttons tonight?” You feign anger as Gary shakes his head whilst Maggie nods. “Of course I’m nervous, I’m shitting myself!” A laugh escapes your lips involuntarily as you lean against the counter with your back turned to the entrance. “This is my chance to make a good impression on the people who pretty much watched me for months whilst Spencer was,” You trail off, it’s still something you both struggle to openly discuss.

Maggie’s eyes dart over to the open doorway, Spencer standing proudly as he removes his purple scarf, his wild curls fluffing up outwards. “Y/n,” Maggie tries to interrupt, but you carry on regardless.

“It’s just, I really care about him, I, I think I might be in love with him.” You finish as a light sound follows as a smile graces your lips.

Biting his lower lip, Spencer steps forward whilst you remain oblivious to his presence. “I always thought I’d be the first to say it,” Spencer can’t help himself as you whip your head around like a deer caught in headlights. “shall we Miss Y/L/N?”

Stuttering silently as you focus on his hazel eyes, you feel a gentle nudge from Maggie as you mumble in agreement.

“Wow, this isn’t at all awkward.” Maggie jokes, causing Gary to give her a fatherly look as you move out from the counter, removing your apron and throw it back in Maggie’s general direction.

“Yes,” The word barely leaves your lips as you walk closer toward him, taking his hand as he guides you towards the exit.

Quickly you glance over your shoulder, receiving thumbs up from both Maggie and Gary before you step out into the Autumnal breeze, wishing you had brought another layer with you.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Spencer asks as he struggles to hide his smile, but he can sense your worries as you focus on the browning leaves as you shuffle down the street.

“I didn’t intend on you hearing that,” You admit shyly as Spencer’s grip on your hand loosens. “I mean, sorry, that sounds dreadful.” You force a laugh, looking up as Spencer keeps his eyes fixated on the street ahead, knowing there are two hundred more steps to take until you reach your car around the corner beside the lamp post with the missing cat poster that’s faded entirely.

“It’s okay.” Spencer mutters, but it doesn’t take a profiler to know he doesn’t mean it.

Pausing, you take a hold of his arm, causing Spencer to turn around as his long legs guide him back to face you.

“It’s not okay, Spencer.” You huff as you sigh into your hands, oblivious to the loving way Spencer is looking at you. Despite having barely made it back in time for Halloween and sleeping on the jet, Spencer couldn’t have been happier to walk in at that precise moment.

Taking your hands from your face, Spencer brushes his fingers across your cheek. “It is, Y/n.” He hushes you, his hand now cupping your cheek. “Because I think, no, I know that I am in love with you too.”

“Wait, you do?” Your immediate reaction is to deny it, but as Spencer dips his head closer towards yours and his lips brush against your skin, you listen to him mutter a simple yes before kissing you affectionately.

Leaning into his embrace, you deepen the kiss, only breaking as the sound of children giggling increases from down the street.

“Ew, they’re kissing!” One child calls out and you shyly bury your face into Spencer’s chest, hiding behind his scarf as you feel the vibrations of his laughter.

His hand rises to rest on your back. “They’re gone, Y/n.” Spencer mutters to you as you step backwards, trying to suppress the heat rising through your body as you carry on walking to your car as if nothing had happened.

*

“Oh my god,” Penelope squeals as she opens her front door, clad in pumpkin dress with her mouth ajar as you stand besides Spencer who is unable to stop his smile from growing. “you look amazing!”

Looking up at Spencer you can’t help but laugh as butterflies flutter around in your stomach, even after all this time he still can muster this effect on you.

You have to admit, despite your initial uncertainties about the costumes Spencer suggested they have turned out better than you envisioned.

“And Y/n, you look well,” Penelope stumbles over her words as she brings you into a tight hug. “and I, I want to apologise about well,” She looks up to Spencer and back to you.

“It’s all good, Penelope.” You tell her as she reaches for your hand, her eyes softening. “I should thank you really, I mean, without you I don’t think we’d be here.” You admit as Spencer wraps his arm around your waist, and it’s enough for Penelope to lose her mind as she sighs happily.

“Come on in lovebirds, god.” She huffs as you both walk in and pause as several pairs of eyes greet you.

“I have to say, it’s hard to find profilers intimidating when they’re all dressed up for a Halloween party.” You admit, and Spencer chuckles, nodding along as he pushes his goggles further up from his forehead.

The first to step forward is a blonde woman wearing a Super Woman costume. “Hi, I’m-”

“JJ?” You ask as she nods, glancing up to Spencer as your smile brightens. “I’ve heard so much about you! Well, I’ve heard a lot about everyone, but you’re Henry’s Mom!” You happily tell JJ who warms to you instantly, having only ever seen footage of you previously down in the dumps and unsure of everything.

Instantly, you are swept away by the women of the BAU, leaving Spencer watching in awe as Luke pats his shoulder. “You really got her to agree to this?” Luke motions to Spencer’s outfit.

“It was the first movie we watched together,” Spencer states. “and she makes a cute Marty.” Spencer half-smiles as he lip-reads your conversation with Emily and JJ.

“He really got you to dress as Marty Mcfly?” Emily chuckles into her drink as you nod along, taking a sip of the concoction Penelope created before everyone arrived.

“I’m not sure if I like it or if it’s the number of chemicals I’ve inhaled making Spencer’s hair white with dry shampoo.” You joke, and the sound of laughter spreads through the group as you glance over your shoulder, watching as Spencer is sat with Rossi and Luke, flashing you a reassuring smile.

“Gives you an idea on how he’ll look in the future.” Penelope nudges you, and JJ rolls her eyes.

“A mad scientist sounds about right.” You nod in agreement. “So, what’s it like, on the field? Spencer only tells me so much, but I’d love to hear more from you guys.”

Rossi interrupts your conversation shortly after Emily explained the latest mission and how she managed to get the cut across her forehead which conveniently was covered by her fringe.

“May I?” Rossi asks as he holds out a glass of wine to you, which you gladly accept.

Walking with Rossi, you follow him into the kitchen as you lean against the counter, feeling somewhat at home here as the music plays faintly in Penelope’s living room.

“You know, when Spencer was inside I heard your name mentioned countless times.” Rossi begins.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” You force yourself to joke, and Rossi senses the change in your stance as you hide your left hand in the pocket of your bodywarmer, picking at the tissue buried inside.

Rossi shakes his head. “No need to apologise. It’s never an easy thing to talk about, but we both know Reid well enough to know he can talk for days about anything and everything, but often miss the most important thing.”

You nod along with Rossi as you take a sip of your drink as a temporary distraction.

“Do you talk about it? What happened when Spencer was inside?” Rossi delves deeper, knowing the answer before you shake your head. “Something changed in him, but what didn’t change was his determination paired with his intelligence and though he can be an ass about it, he often is right about things.” Rossi chuckles to himself. “I listened to everyone talking about this girl in a cafe for months before Spencer went away, waiting for him to make a move.”

Listening intently, these were details no one had ever shared. This was the perspective you were missing in your story.

“Penelope offered countless times to march in and talk to you, but an old friend, Morgan, refused to let that happen.” Rossi sighs, remembering it like it were yesterday. “And he told us on the flight back to Quantico that he was going to see if you were open that evening and ask you on a date.” Rossi trails off, not needing to fill you in on the rest of the story.

“And he did.” You finish. “What was it like, knowing he was in there all that time?”

Your eyes follow Rossi’s as he looks out into the living room where Spencer is lost in conversation with JJ. “Difficult, knowing he was in there for something he wouldn’t have ever done. We all worked tirelessly, trying to find a way to get him out.” Rossi explains as he places his glass down on the counter, finding a spot amongst Penelope’s various trinkets. “Do you wish you knew? If you could go back?”

“That’s the million-dollar question.” You huff as you finish the last of your wine. “I don’t think I would, no.” You reason, thinking back on the heartache you went through, the unknown reason Spencer never called you. “It hurt, and I think everyone here knows that firsthand, but I don’t think I would’ve forgiven him if I knew without the full story that was to follow.”

A smile forms on Rossi’s face as he steps forward and kisses both your cheeks. “I can see why he’s so fond of you.” He pats your arm, leaving you alone with your thoughts for a moment before you step out, resuming the evening with everyone.

*

Hearty laughter echoes throughout the apartment as the hours roll on. Children have long gone home and have dealt with their sugar crashes as the adults roam the streets in search of a very different kind of candy.

Leaning against Penelope’s balcony, you welcome the fresh air as you run your fingers through your hair, thankful for the warmth the costume provides unlike the girls below.

The sound of the door opening and closing catches your attention as Spencer stands beside you, his arms resting on the railing as he looks out at the city below and the drunken chatter climbing up the walls of buildings.

“Did you know Halloween is one of the more dangerous holidays?” Spencer asks, and you raise a brow to him as his smile widens before he carries on. “Between 2009 and 2013 the National Highway Traffic Safety Administration reported 40% of deaths were caused by drivers who were intoxicated from 7 pm to around 1 am.”

“Cheerful, Spence.” You mutter as a chill spreads through you once more.

“Here,” Spencer speaks up, wrapping his arm around you as he kisses the top of your head as you watch girls stumble over their heels as they yell for one another. “I’m glad you came tonight.”

Glancing up to Spencer, you push his goggles further up onto his partially white hair. “Oh yeah?” You tease, something you can’t help but do as Spencer nods.

Spencer watches as you rest your head against his shoulder, your thoughts clearly elsewhere as you hum contently.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Interrupting your daydreams, you straighten up.

“When did you know that you loved me?” You ask the question that’s been circling in your thoughts all evening.

Pausing for a moment, Spencer turns to face you, his eyes darting over to the balcony doors as everyone remains occupied.

“Truthfully, Y/n,” Spencer starts as he exhales shakily, something you weren’t anticipating. “the night you came over and wanted to give us a go.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, that night was filled with mixed emotions.

* that night *

You weren’t sure how your feet had guided you to his front door, but here you were.

Crumbling the piece of paper back into your pocket, you force back any worries as you knock on his front door and step back, preparing yourself to turn back and run if necessary.

Yet, the door swung open, revealing Spencer in comfortable attire as he tiredly rubs his eyes before focusing on the figure before him.

“Y/n?” He mutters, shocked to see you after how you dismissed him days prior. “What’re you doing here? I mean, how did you get my,”

“Penelope.” You tell him, cutting him off as he nods, who else could it have been?

Silence settles over you both as neither of you are sure what to say. On your drive over, you had a vague plan in place, an idea of what you want to say. Yet, standing in front of Spencer up close, the stubble lining his jaw and above his lip, you were lost for words all over again.

“Would you like to come in?” Spencer steps aside from his front door, revealing his slightly messy apartment as books are scattered across the floor.

“Okay.” You force confidence to strive through your voice as you step inside, your eyes wandering over his vast library as the front door closes behind you. “What I said the other night,”

“Was perfectly valid.” Spencer comments, holding his hands up before resting them in his pockets.

You suppress your sigh as you focus on anything but him and your eyes lock on a beaten copy of a book in front of your feet, ‘The Narrative of John Smith.’  

“I heard you, but I wasn’t truly listening. I mean, it was a lot to take on board.” A short laugh leaves your lips as Spencer nods. “If you’ll let me, I’d like to hear about it, all of it.”

Lifting your head up, you see Spencer focusing on you with a perplexed look crossing his gaze. “But, why? You made it clear that night that you didn’t want to see me again.” Spencer reasons, fighting against his heart as it yells for him to shut up.

“I don’t know.” You admit, lifting your arms up as you sigh. “I just, for peace of mind, please? I waited three months to hear from you, and now I have I, I don’t want to just let it go.”

Stepping closer, Spencer hesitantly reaches out for your hand and squeezes it lightly. “Okay.” He whispers before guiding you to his sofa. “Well, I guess I’ll start after you drove off.”

*

Looking in awe at your boyfriend, you can’t help but notice how he retreats into himself after his statement.

“I just knew if you were willing to give me a chance after all of that, after listening to my story I wasn’t just interested in you, Y/n. I knew I loved you.” Spencer tells you as you nudge closer into his embrace, rising on your tiptoes.

“Want to know a secret, Spence?” You whisper into his lips. “I knew I loved you the moment you opened the door.” You chuckle, closing the distance between your lips as you kiss him, only to be interrupted as the doors slide open.

“Love birds, come on we’re about to play say it or shot it!” Penelope calls out as Spencer’s cheeks burn up and his goggles fall down onto his face.

Chuckling to yourself you force his goggles back up. “Shall we?” You ask, stepping forward as Spencer nods, taking your hand and following you back inside to join everyone else.

We must develop and maintain the capacity to forgive. He who is devoid of the power to forgive is devoid of the power to love. There is some good in the worst of us and some evil in the best of us. When we discover this, we are less prone to hate our enemies. - Martin Luther King Jr. 

The end. 

TAGLIST (for this mini series) : 

@koc-help​ @bellomi-clarke​ @castbyfox​ @http-cherries​ @easygoingtheatre​ @tomorrowmeansoportunities​ @rainsong01​ @rexorangecouny​ @radtwinkie @eldahae @l0ve-0f-my-life​

[gothvergilstan]

It Began Snowing.

GenderNetural!ReaderxCryptid!Taeyong

I based Taeyong off a bit on the yokai Yuki-Onna but I put my own spin to it. I didn’t know how to end this and personally I feel like the ending could be better. Also, it gets sorta yandereish

 Anyway, enjoy ^^

It began snowing suddenly.

You looked up at the gray skies, stopping in your tracks.

Lifting your hand up, you watched as the snowflakes landing on your red glove.

You drew your close to you, staring at the snowflakes that sat on your hand when suddenly, your ears twitched to the sound of crunching snow.

You looked to your side to see a young man walking.

You assumed he was going to pass by but when he stopped about a foot from you, you became slightly irritated because you knew he was going to talk to you.

You’re raised arm went to your side as he said “You know the blizzard is beginning to start. You shouldn’t just be standing out here.” causing you frowned a bit.

“A blizzard?” you questioned out loud.

The forecast only called for a light snowfall today. There was nothing on the news about an upcoming blizzard because if so, you wouldn’t have decided to explore the woods today.

The young man nodded his head.

“Yes. A blizzard and it seems to be picking up.” he said as the wind became stronger and the snowfall became harsher.

“Do you have any place to stay at during the storm? My place isn’t too far.”

“I-I uh, no.” you shook your head, the cold nipping at your exposed cheeks.

You lived in the town next to one you were currently in since this town was more of a farming town with woods while yours was simply a small factory town.

“You should come with me then.”

“N-no. I’m fine.” you told the stranger.

“Yet your shivering. You’d freeze to death out here… Come on. Come with me. I’ll give you some hot tea or hot chocolate, whatever you like.” he smiled at you.

You didn’t noticed that you were shivering, your teeth clattering as you said, “O-okay.”

The smile never left the man’s lips as he grabbed your hand.

“You don’t mind me grabbing your hand?” and you shook your head.

“Good. Let’s go.”

He began walking, leading the way, going further and further into the woods.

The snowfall became more heavy and the young man hummed as he took you to his home.

No thoughts crossed your mind as you let this strange man take you to his home, the nipping cold making it hard for you to think.

“We’re almost there.” he said as your eyes become blinded by the snow.

After some minutes, you walked out of the woods and soon you were in front of a yellow farm house.

Once you two walked up the steps and made it to the door, he let go of your hand and took out a pair keys from his pocket, unlocking and opening the door.

He looked at you and motioned for you to go in, a smile on his lips.

You walked into the house being hit with an immediate warmth but it wasn’t enough to stop the cold the had your body frozen.

The sound of the door closing and some locks entered your ears as you shivered in place.

“Oh. You must be freezing. Let me help you take off your jacket.”

The man was soon in front of you and watched as one of his hands unzipped your coat.

You found it weird that he was being rather close to you but you just chalked it up to him being helpful.

Once your jacket was off, he hung it on the coat rack on the wall.

“You think you can take off your boots?” he asked and you nodded, crouching down to untie your boots.

“Tch tch. Let me do that.”

He came over in front of you once more and you stood up, watching the young man crouch down and began untying your boots.

Once he was done he got up and watched as you took them off.

He grabbed your boots and put them to the side.

“Are you still cold?” he asked, walking into your vision once more.

You nodded, shivering heavily.

“You should take a hot bath. I’ll start the bath and give you some clothes and a towel.”

Your eyes widen and the young man chuckled.

“Don’t worry. I’m not a pervert if that’s what you’re thinking.” he said.

“Oh shit. I never told you my name, it’s Taeyong.”

“M-my name i-is Y-y/n.” you stuttered.

“Y/n. Hmm…” he hummed in thought.

“Go take a seat on the couch. I’ll get the bath started.” he smiled before walking up the steps.

You went to the open living room and sat down on the couch, noticing how comfy it was.

You looked around the living room, seeing little knick knacks and a fire place, some black and white photos and paintings.

A bark made you flinched and soon you saw a white jindo dog who began growling at you.

The dog began moving slowly towards you.

You started shaking in fear when suddenly you heard Taeyong’s voice.

“Melpomene.” he said softly, walking up to the growling dog.

“It’s alright, I’m safe. They’re not a threat.” he pat the dog and soon its growling died down.

“She’s really overprotective of me.” he laughed, looking up at you.

“I fixed your bath. Let me show where the washroom is.” he said, his gentle eyes on your form.

You got up, your eyes on the dog as you walked passed the animal and followed the man upstairs.

He showed you the washroom and were your clothes and towel sat at before leaving and closing the door.

Your eyes left the closed door, moving to the bathtub and as you walked closer to the bathtub, you saw rose petals sitting on the steamy water and a flowery scent entered your nose.

This was rather strange but once again, you didn’t think much of it.

You undressed and slowly entered the bathtub, sighing from the warmth.

Leaning back, you closed your eyes.

It was so weird for a blizzard this bad to happen suddenly.

Then your thoughts went to Taeyong.

You’ve seen him on multiple occasions, the occasions usually being the local farmers market where he sold his produce and fresh meat.

You have never properly met the man until today and it shocked you how warmed he felt.

Though you still believed that this situation was indeed a strange one.

Local legends of your town spoke of a deadly creature who caused random blizzards during the winter whenever a someone was lost or stranded only to never be seen again, the creature being compared to the man eating siren.

So you knew that you could be in danger but honestly, what could you even do?

You’re small house was in the next town over.

You had no choice but to stay in Taeyong’s house and wait for the blizzard to die down.

After some minutes passed, your body felt warm again and soon you began washing up.

Once you were done, you dried up and put on the clothes Taeyong left out, which was an oversized white t-shirt and some gray shorts. You put the towel in a basket, believing it to be the dirty clothes hamper and left the room.

As you walked down the stairs, the smell of food alerted your senses and as you walked into the open living room, you looked to your side where the opening to the kitchen was and walked to it.

Taeyong stood in front of a stove putting ingredients into a black pot.

He looked up at you and a gentle smile graced his handsome features.

“You’re done pretty early. I was hoping you’d be finish when I was done cooking.” he said. “But that’s alright. I’m making sundubu-jjigae. That sounds good?” he asked, his eyes on you.

You nodded, making a slight noise.

“You’re not much of a talker huh?” Taeyong said and you bit your bottom lip in nervousness.

“I don’t really know you well.”

He nodded, his attention going back to the stew.

“That makes sense. I am a stranger after all.” he stirred the stew. “But I truly mean no harm. You’re too precious to me…” you frowned in confusion as you didn’t quiet catch his last sentence.

You looked pass him at the window, being met with darkness.

Walking up to the window, you saw snowflakes hitting the glass.

“The blizzard is still going strong. You should stay the night here.”

You turned around and saw Taeyong turning off the stove.

“Y-yeah…”

The young man walked up to you, his hand caressing your cheek. His face was very close to yours, his breathe hitting your lips.

Your eyes widen and you gulped as you saw the boy’s eyes glance at your lips before turning his intense gaze back to your eyes

You felt like you couldn’t move.

In fact, it felt as though you were genuinely frozen in place.

“Do I make you nervous?” he asked and you quickly nodded.

His breath smelt of peppermint and his body was too close to yours.

You felt as though you were going to pass out.

“I don’t mean to make you so nervous. I’m usually not this touchy with anyone but you make me feel… something.” he said, his face contorting in as though he was lost in thought, his eyes fixated on you.

“What d-do you mean?” you stuttered.

Taeyong’s thumb traced your jawline as he said, “Warmth. You make me feel warmth and warmth is something I never feel.”

“Why is that?”

Taeyong hummed.

“Let’s eat first and then I’ll tell you.” he smiled before removing his hand from your cheek and walked back to the stove. He picked put on some mittens and picked up the pot.

“Come on. I know you must be hungry.”

~~

You two mostly ate in a comfortable silence, Taeyong saying some things here and there.

After you two were finish, he cleaned up your bowls, telling you to sit on the couch.

When he came back, he started breaking some wood to start a fire in the fireplace.

Once he started the fire, he took a seat next to you on the couch.

“I’m making us some hot chocolate.” he said.

You nodded.

Taeyong leaned in close to you causing you to back up slightly.

“You’re a lotus.”

You tilted your head and he instantly knew you were confused.

“You’re beautiful. I can see it. Your soul is beautiful yet because of this world, it’s been damaged, muddied, polluted.”

“I don’t understand.”

“As I said before, you make me feel warmth and I can’t feel warmth yet you…” his hands cradled your face. “Every time I would see you, whenever you were near me, I felt a warmth that those of my kind simply cannot produce.”

As soon as those words left his mouth, it hit you.

Taeyong was the creature of your town’s legend.

He was the siren like creature that would cause snowstorms to whoever was unfortunate to fall upon its gaze.

“You… are my soulmate.” he said which shocked you immensely.

What did he mean by soulmate?

“Huh?” was all you could respond with.

“You are my soulmate Y/n. I caused this storm just to see if my feeling was right and it was.”

You wanted to move but you felt stuck to the couch.

You tried moving your head away from his hands but you couldn’t even budge.

“A lotus flower forced to live in such an impure and dirty world… you are never leaving this place.” he said.

Your eyes widen.

“What? I… I can’t stay here. T-this is crazy!” you voice became an octave higher.

“You belong here.” the creature said. “You belong in this house. You won’t be able to bloom surrounded by those humans.” he said with disgust. “Especially surrounded by those who have hurt you.”

A white light began swirling in his eyes.

“Stay with me. I’ll keep you safe. I will always protect you and I’ll give you all the love in the universe. Just stay with me.”

Your eyes began to glaze over as you looked into his eyes.

“Okay.” you said faintly, feeling your body going limp.

“Promise me that you’ll never leave me.” his gentle voice soon turned strong and dominate, a stark contrast from how he first appeared towards you.

“I promise.” you said in a dazed like state.

“Good.” he said, his pointer finger rubbing your bottom lip.

“If you ever try to leave me, if you ever try to hurt me like that… I will drag back to this house and punish you. Understood?”

“Yes.” you responded obediently.

The light in his eyes slowly dissipated and his intense gaze turned soft, a smile on his lips as he said, “Good. I should go check on hot chocolate.” he said before letting go of your face and heading off to the kitchen.

[the-cheese-writes]

I wonder ~ Prinxiety

Requested by: @_becxmoonsy on Wattpad

TW: None

Word count: 1895

{Masterpost}

----------

To say that Virgil and Roman’s relationship was complicated was an understatement. It didn’t kick off smoothly if you wanted a base to start from.

Roman had been the first to meet him, and although Virgil had, somehow, greeted him, he didn’t exactly welcome him well.

‘Hey there, Princey!’

‘Oh… kay. Can’t stand that guy.’

And those were the first words they said to each other. Obviously, they had started off on the wrong foot (which was evident in later episodes where they argue and bicker constantly), but after Roman changed, so did Virgil and so did everything else.

Whether it was subtle differences like trying to nickname each other more nicely or bigger switch ups like Virgil’s style, it was apparent that they had both changed for the better and, seemingly, each other.

But with their development, came new emotions and feelings, especially for Roman. Seeing a spike of confidence in Virgil the day he donned a new appearance, sparked something in the prince, something he had never felt before or for anyone previously for that matter.

It was… a good feeling. It was exciting and sweet, like candy, but also a little nerve-wracking and it made him giddy inside as well as out. Roman loved it and he felt it the most around Virgil. He never dared speak a word about it to anyone though. Secrets like these were best kept hidden; they were fun to hide anyway.

Unfortunately, for Roman, he wasn’t exactly the best at concealing things, which was how the cat got out of the bag. (No, don’t worry it’s not a real cat. Patton’s allergies will be fine.)

***

“Hey Virge! Whatcha doin’?” Roman said as he approached his friend. Looking up from his phone for a second, Virgil smiled.

“Just scrolling through Tumblr, as usual,” he replied, patting the empty spot next to him, indicating to Roman that he wanted him to sit down.

The prince happily obliged and when he took his place next to Virgil, he laid down onto his lap. As he stared at the ceiling, Roman wondered about what he and Virgil were. What they did with each other normally happened around romantic couples, but they were just being friends… right?

They always hugged, and cuddled together, leaned on each other’s shoulders when they needed to and spent almost every minute of every day together. The only thing missing was the kiss.

His eyes then shifted from the ceiling to Virgil’s face. It was illuminated slightly by the light emanating from his phone and his expression was so… peaceful and he was smiling a little, causing Roman’s heart to jump a few hurdles.

Virgil was gently playing with his hair, softly stroking it routinely and massaging it occasionally; these actions made Roman wonder if they would mean anything more if they were a couple.

Nothing would really need to change, right? They would continue to do what they normally did around each other except then, they would be romantically involved. Would there be anymore significance?

His eyes then flickered to Virgil’s lips: always soft, always a little chapped but always kissable. In that moment, Roman wanted nothing more than to seize his face and drown him in affection, but obviously he couldn’t do that and he pushed himself off of Virgil’s lap and away from the sofa as quickly as he could to halt anything too… impulsive.

“Ro? You good?” asked Virgil, raising an eyebrow at him in confusion at his sudden movement.

“Uh, yeah. I just remembered that I needed to do something,” Roman lied, raking a hand through his hair. “I’ll be upstairs if you need me.”

And with that, he dashed up to his room, leaving Virgil completely baffled.

Briskly walking into his room, Roman closed the door, his back facing it, and sighed heavily. He looked ahead and tried to clear his mind of any thoughts of Virgil, but there was no use. He was there, imprinted and glued and Roman would just be wasting his energy trying to get him out.

But Virgil stuck in his head wasn’t such a bad thing though; at least his mind was, in a way, doing him a favour with images of his crush.

Being the creative side he was, Roman suddenly got an idea to place the scenario that had appeared on his head on a canvas - he had nothing better to do anyway. He grabbed his headphones and played one of his playlists on Spotify named ‘Virgil💜🔮🎵’. (It was called that because he would listen to it whenever he thought of him and what they could be.)

With a snap of his fingers, Roman conjured a pot of paint brushes and some paint and set to work constructing his mind’s image.

He started with the base of the painting first - the sky - with midnight blue which faded to a lighter shade as it descended. Then, he created the grass, using black paint since it would only be a silhouette and set it just below the halfway point and in the middle, he painted a bench with two people sitting on it, who he imagined to be him and Virgil.

Roman smiled at the thought of them stargazing together with nothing to interrupt them and their picture perfect moment but the occasional breeze. After making the trees on the side and the moon in the twilight sky, Roman tied the whole piece together with the addition of stars.

During this time, the song ‘Wonder’ by Shawn Mendes played and he grinned, seeing how relevant it was to his current situation. As he dipped his brush in white paint and flicked it across the canvas, Roman sang the words, not as passionately as Shawn did, but with as much energy as he wanted - which was a decent amount.

Unbeknownst to him however, Virgil had been listening outside the entire time. After his puzzling retreat to his room, the emo followed him, but what he heard when he was just about to knock on his door was a lovely surprise.

Roman was singing, as per usual, but what he sang intrigued Virgil. At that time, it was ‘Would You Be So Kind’ by dodie. He sunk behind the door, quietly singing with him and thought about how it tailored to their relationship. He had never been vocal about it, but he had always had a little crush on Princey, ever since the beginning; he wondered if he too felt the same way.

After a couple songs and unknown duets between them, Virgil finally decided to knock. When there was no response, he opened the door and Roman was still singing - a song he hadn’t heard before, but he listened to the lyrics. 

As he stepped closer, he realised what Roman was doing and admired the painting from afar. It was absolutely beautiful and from what he could see; it looked flawless and not a single stroke was out of place. Virgil didn’t really expect anything less than excellence from Roman’s work though. As the prince, he constantly strived for perfection.

‘I wonder what it’s like to be loved by you,’ Roman sang and Virgil instantly froze. They probably weren’t, but he couldn’t help but wonder if those words were meant for him?

‘I wonder why I’m so afraid,

Of saying something wrong, I never said I was a saint.

I wonder, when I cry into my hands,

I’m conditioned to feel like it makes me less of a man.

And I wonder if someday you’ll be by my side,

And tell me that the world will end up alright.’

Virgil thought that he might be getting to the end of the song, so he shyly approached him.

Clearing his throat, he said loudly to get his attention, “Princey?”

Instantly, Roman turned around. He was fixated to the spot for a few seconds, before he took off his headphones and set his brush down.

“Virgil!” he said, smiling awkwardly. “How- how long have you been standing there?”

“Not very long. I just wanted to see if you were okay ‘cause you left really quickly downstairs,” Virgil answered, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

 

“Oh, no yeah I’m fine. I just wanted to do… this!” Roman then pointed to his artwork, showing it off and giving Virgil a clearer view of what he had seen only a little of earlier.

“Wow,” Virgil sighed, stepping closer. “It’s lovely.”

“Thanks.” Roman grinned, proud of his work. Virgil glanced at him for a moment, then quickly looked back down, both of their cheeks tinting cherry red.

“Who are they?” asked Virgil, pointing to the black silhouette of the two boys seated on the bench.

“Um no one. Just characters,” Roman replied quickly, blushing and fiddling with his fingers. Noticing his flustered state, Virgil smirked and decided to dig a little deeper.

“Hmm. They look awfully familiar,” he teased, rubbing his chin thoughtfully then turning to Roman who tried to play it off as innocently as he could.

“Oh they do? How interesting.” Virgil smirked and stared at him for a bit longer, but soon realised that he wouldn’t be getting anywhere if he kept it up. So, he tried something else.

Sheepishly, he walked up to Roman, keeping his hands in his pockets and looked at him through his bangs.

“You once told me that everything you say, do or sing has a meaning behind it. Well, almost everything. What were you singing about earlier?”

Roman turned away and fiddled with his sash. “You heard?”

Virgil hummed in response, then he sighed and decided that now was a better time than ever.

“Those words, those lyrics. I sang from somewhere. Someplace only I know and hope to share with someone one day.”

“Someone? Who is…”

Roman was on the edge of the cliff. He could see the crashing waves below and knew that if he didn’t have faith in his wings, he would plummet down, but if he clung onto that hope hard enough, he could soar through the cotton clouds and the exhilarating breeze to the ends of the earth. All it took was a jump.

So he held his breath and leaped.

“You.”

Virgil froze. His eyes widened and his jaw dropped; he was speechless, he didn’t know what to say. All these years of what he thought was once hopeless crushing and longing for something that he believed could never be, turns out he was wrong all along.

As Roman braced himself for the worst, the little smile of Virgil’s starstruck face grew and he lunged at Roman, embracing him in a tight hug.

The prince was surprised, but didn’t at all complain and hugged him back just as tightly. Even still, he didn’t want to jump to conclusions.

“Virge?”

“You wonder what it’s like? To be loved by me?” Virgil said as he pulled away, meeting Roman’s eyes. He glanced at his lips and Virgil noticed, so he swiftly leaned in and softly kissed him. But it wasn’t long before the kiss grew more passionate, making it clear to them both that they had waited far too long for this to happen.

When they eventually parted, they stayed close, gazing into each other’s eyes. Both boys then grinned blissfully at each other, satisfied in the moment that they wished would last forever.

“That’s what it’s like.”

[tothemeadow]

Commissioned by @hinokami-s

Art originally done by @/n2514 on twitter

Kamado Tanjiro x OC

- It's been too long since Tanjiro and Hayami have seen each other. Tanjiro knows he's a fool in love, but there might be chance that Hayami feels the same. Together, they're meant to bring down a powerful demon with a Blood Art that neither one has seen before - the catch? It's an aphrodisiac. -

warnings: NSFW, mentions of blood and violence, oral sex, a sprinkling of praise kink, a dash of breeding kink, a good dose of creampie

words: 7.4k

-

Breathe in, breathe out. Focus, Tanjiro, focus.

Swinging his blade gracefully, Tanjiro pivots on his heel to follow up on the frontal attack with a jab of his elbow. The demon grunts as it’s knocked backwards, stumbling to catch its footing. Hissing out yet another curse, it surges toward the man, sharp claws splayed out. Tanjiro easily sidesteps it, bringing his blade in front of him in a defensive stance. Again, the demon tries to strike at him, only to get deflected.

“Damn human,” the demon spits, “stand still so I can rip your guts out!”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that!” Tanjiro exclaims. “You’ve taken enough lives already – I refuse to let you take any more!”

Again, the both of them brace themselves for yet another attack; simultaneously, they leap at each other, blade and claws extending out in deadly arcs. Tanjiro grits his teeth as the claws make a pass at his shoulder, ripping through the layers of his haori and uniform and tearing into the muscle. Still, he pushes forward, cleanly bringing his blade through the demon’s neck and successfully decapitating it. A cloud of dust rises as they both unceremoniously land on the ground; the demon crumbles away instantly, leaving Tanjiro by his lonesome.

Finally.

Rolling his shoulders, Tanjiro slips his blade back into his sheath and drags a forearm over his forehead, wiping away the sweat. A sizzling heat roaring in his shoulder draws his attention; glancing at his shoulder, he’s met with the wicked sight of shredded fabrics and torn flesh. Blood steadily pours from the wound, soaking his clothes a dark red. With a sigh, Tanjiro presses a flat palm to the wound and glances toward the sky. Fortunately, bits of light break through the canopy of the forest. He shouldn’t stick around for long, though – not if he wants to fight even more demons.

Taking a step forward, he suddenly stumbles and lands on his knees. “What the-“ he begins, but he cuts himself off at the spark of pain located in his ankle. Oh, this is just wonderful. Taking a deep breath, he steadies himself on his hands and forces himself to a stand, leaning his weight on the opposite foot. There’s no other option than to hobble towards a Wisteria House; luckily, he passed by one earlier, so it shouldn’t take too long for him to arrive.

As long as he can make it back before night falls, he should be in the clear.

-

“A letter, yes! A letter!”

Looking to the window, Tanjiro’s greeted by his Kasugai crow. Its beady eyes stay focused on him while it hops from side to side; Tanjiro’s interest piques as he notices the little scroll of paper tied to its foot. An easy smile spreads across his face as he hobbles to the window. The letter had to be from his friend Sumiyuri Hayami – it had to be! The two usually communicate via letters sent by their crows since they’re busy dealing with their own missions to visit each other. Still, no matter how many letters he’s received, that same gentle warmth encases his heart as he slips the bit of twine off the crow’s foot.

Tanjiro’s blood practically pounds in his ears as he unravels the letter, unconsciously holding his breath while his eyes scan over Hayami’s neat handwriting.

Tanjiro,

I hope this letter finds you in good health.

Tanjiro pauses, smiles sheepishly.

It’s a lonely journey, the letter continues, traveling without someone. I don’t mind the quiet, but you know how much I dislike being alone. Even my crow won’t keep me company, won’t you believe that?

I miss you, Tanjiro. I can’t wait to see you again.

Forever and always,

Hayami

The bottom of the letter is covered with multiple doodles of cherry blossoms, one of Hayami’s favorite types of flowers. She always ends her letter the exact same way, and it never fails to bring Tanjiro a sense of comfort. But “I miss you”? “I can’t wait to see you again”?

That’s new.

Tanjiro can’t help the blush that spreads across his cheeks, nor can he control the rapid beating of his heart. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t have special feelings for the girl; for so long, he’s been pining after her, craving to hold her hand and kiss her sweetly. He’s such a coward, though. Time after time, the confession sat on the tip of his tongue, ready to tumble from his lips at the simplest command, but he couldn’t do it. It always felt like it wasn’t the right time to tell her his feelings, especially with how the world is.

But oh, knowing that she’s thinking of him – that she misses him – makes his heart soar. He can’t tear his eyes away from the small piece of paper, attention fixated on those two little sentences. “Oh, Hayami,” he breathes, looking away and willing his heartbeat to slow down. His crow merely cocks its head at him.

“Well?” it caws, fluttering its wings expectantly. “Return letter, yes?”

That’s right.

Hobbling over to the desk in the room, Tanjiro reaches for the inkwell and brush and carefully constructs his own letter, a dreamy smile plastered on his face.

Hayami,

I can’t wait to see you, too.

Tanjiro

Again, he crosses to wear the crow sits on the windowsill, rolling up his paper and hastily tying it around its foot. “Thank you, my friend,” he tells the crow, giving it a gentle pat on the head. With a singular squawk, the crow takes off; Tanjiro watches long after it’s turned into a black dot in the sky before turning away from the window. He truly hopes he can be graced by Hayami’s presence sometime soon. He misses her dearly, and the fact that she feels the same way makes him giggle into a hand.

What can he say? He’s in love.

-

Perhaps the gods are watching over him more closely than he thinks. Maybe he’s just lucky. Either way, Tanjiro is truly blessed whenever the sliding door to his room opens, revealing a familiar face. It’s a face that visits both daydreams and regular dreams alike; a masterpiece, truly, carved straight from ivory and inlaid with purple gems for eyes. Tanjiro almost can’t believe it.

“Hayami?” he breathes.

A gorgeous smile cracks her face. “Tanjiro.”

By the gods, it really is her.

Before he can even register it, he’s shooting up from his futon, hurrying to where she stands, and flinging his arms around her in a hug. His heart beats impossibly hard in his chest and his face flushes with warmth, but gods he’s really, really missed her. At first, Hayami stiffens in surprise, but it quickly melts away and there she goes, mimicking his movements and hugging him back.

When they were younger, Hayami used to be outright massive in height; Tanjiro has never been bothered by the fact (instead, he’s always found it as a part of her charm), but now… Now it’s different. Even in her infamous heeled boots, she’s still a few centimeters shorter than he. Tanjiro can see the crown of her head with ease. Has he always been this tall? Has he grown since the last time they’ve met? Peering downwards, his breath catches in his throat.

Like Mitsuri, Hayami always opted for the open-chested gakuran; and, just like Mitsuri, she’s also well endowed. Tearing his gaze away, Tanjiro pushes away the sudden spike of warmth swirling in the depths of his stomach. After all this time of being apart, their first interaction can’t be with him acting inappropriate! Besides, it’s always been more of Zenitsu’s thing to openly ogle at women, not Tanjiro’s.

A hand cups his face, forces him to look back down. “I’ve really missed you,” Hayami whispers. Her smile is pure saccharine, so delightfully wonderful and sweet. The urge to kiss her is strong, Tanjiro quickly realizes. He can’t scare her away, no, not now. But it’d just be so easy to let his feelings loose, to tell her everything she deserves to hear.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Tanjiro flashes her a smile in return. She’s so soft in his arms and smells like lavender soap. It’s incredible to know that someone of this ethereal beauty exists, much less to be friends with them. Perhaps he’s being too sentimental – romantic, maybe even poetic – but he honestly cannot get enough of her.

“I’ve missed you, too,” he says.

A pang of longing strikes his heart whenever Hayami pulls away. “I got your letter. I thought it was kind of odd, though – you’re usually not one for short messages, Tanjiro. I was worried that something happened.”

Yeah, he thinks, I nearly had a heart attack on the spot.

For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. He looks at her, truly looks, and it’s only then that he realizes she has light scratches on her face and a bandage wrapped around a strong thigh. Blinking owlishly, he has to recall that they’re in a Wisteria House of all places, not at some random inn or anything of the sort. A shameful blush spreads across his features. How foolish could he be not to notice her injuries right away?

“You’re hurt!” he exclaims, brows furrowing. “What happened?”

At that, Hayami merely waves a dismissive hand. It’s enough for him to want to be pissed off, but again, he knows her all too well. Hayami’s always been the type to place others before herself, always striving to become even stronger to protect everyone she cares about. It’s this ideology that’s led her to become a somewhat reckless person on almost all accounts; however, Tanjiro knows she’s a formidable opponent. He simply wishes she would take care of herself every once in a while.

“I could ask you the same,” she shoots back, gesturing to his heavily bandaged shoulder. “Tanjiro, I really wish you would be more careful. What if… What if something worse happened? What if you didn’t make it to a Wisteria House in time?”

Tanjiro rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’m really sorry to make you worry, Hayami. I really am. It’s just… Things can get out of hand sometimes, you know? But I defeated the demon, so don’t worry! As long as I can continue to help others out, I’ll take as many hits as it takes.”

Hayami sighs. The both of them know how serious he is about dealing with demons; each little step is necessary to reach Muzan Kibutsuji, to finally put an end to his reign of terror and find a cure for his younger sister, Nezuko. He and Hayami are truly two of a kind, hopelessly selfless and always willing to help others even if it means disaster for themselves.

“Well,” Hayami starts, reaching out and clutching one of Tanjiro’s hands in both of hers, “promise me you’ll stay alive. Do it for Nezuko. Do it for me.” A pleading glint shines in the depths of her eyes. “Promise me, Tanjiro.”

At this rate, Tanjiro’s heart will burst. It swells to a near impossible size, thrumming against his ribcage and begging to be free. He doesn’t know how she does it, doesn’t know how she can be so lovely, yet here they are, hands intertwined and almost too close for comfort. If Tanjiro didn’t know any better, he’d say Hayami is purposefully trying to get a rise from him, possibly make him a melted mess on the tatami flooring.

Again, he swallows thickly. Clasping onto her hands tightly, he nods his head. “I promise.”

-

Things have been going… odd.

While it isn’t out of the ordinary to catch up and swap stories after being apart for so long, Tanjiro’s quickly come to notice that every time he turns around, Hayami is usually within sight. He can’t say much, though, since he’s been dealing the same treatment to her. The two have practically grown attached to the hip, nearly fawning over each other, and doing everything together.

Tanjiro can’t complain; he secretly adores the attention Hayami showers upon him, the cooing she does when she brushes his hair, or the delightful gleam in her eyes. Being in her presence is enough to have his entire being flood with warmth, to have his heart beat wildly in his chest.

Even now, in the dwindling hours of twilight, the two are cozy in Hayami’s room, surrounded by flickering lanterns. Hayami has personally taken it upon herself to mend Tanjiro’s beloved haori, to fix the dreadful hole left behind that slashing demon. Tanjiro merely watches on, relaxing on his side with his head propped in a hand. He watches as Hayami works every so diligently, her lovely features set in a focused look. Granted, he’s always thought of her as beautiful. She reminds him of the maidens in the stories his mother used to read to him when he was younger, ever so graceful and good natured.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been watching her. Minutes, hours, maybe days – it feels like his eyes haven’t seen her in an eternity, and he’s almost desperate to soak in the sight of her and commit it to memory.

Although Hayami hasn’t said a thing, her eyes flicker towards Tanjiro every so often. She doesn’t bother to make it a secret, either; Tanjiro swallows thickly, wonders just what exactly is going on inside her head. Like him, her wounds are healing nicely, mostly due to the care given by the members of the Wisteria House. The scratches that adorned her face are gone, leaving behind a canvas of an unblemished, creamy white.

“You’re staring,” Hayami says, still not looking up from her work. Tanjiro flushes at her comment, but he also picks up on the playful lilt to her tone.

“I’m sorry,” he half blubbers, rolling onto his back and focusing on the ceiling to calm his erratic heart. “It’s just… It’s been so long. When’s the next time we’re going to see each other like this again?”

While Tanjiro does have a point, it’s one that neither of them has decided to discuss. The ways of being a slayer can be somewhat picky – not much time can be set aside for leisurely purposes. And, taking in Tanjiro’s mission into account, he has to work harder than anyone else if he wishes to save Nezuko.

“Well,” Hayami speaks up, finally turning fully to Tanjiro. Setting down her needle and thread, she shuffles over to where Tanjiro lies on the floor, hovering in his field of vision. “We should make the most of it, huh?” With a flick of her wrists, a flash of green and black fills Tanjiro’s vision; the haori settles gently on him, the delicate smell of fresh laundry and lavender flooding his nostrils. Oh, by the gods, now his haori smells like her.

“You should consider yourself lucky that they were able to wash the blood out,” Hayami continues on, a slight smile pulling at the corners of her full mouth. “It’d be weird to see you wear anything else.”

“Maybe I’d have to wear yours,” Tanjiro says. It’s out before he says it – his eyes widen as realization dawns on him. He really said that, didn’t he?

For a moment, Hayami’s expression mimics his. She seems just as surprised as he is at the blatant comment – or was it flirting? The initial shock melts into a somewhat panicked version, then, and Tanjiro instantly regrets saying anything at all.

Shit.

Hayami looks away, and Tanjiro swears he can see the beginnings of a blush on her face. Oh.

Oh no.

“Perhaps,” she mutters, taking a strand of long hair and twirling it around her finger. “Purple would look great on you.”

Yeah, Tanjiro thinks, attention honing on her flushed cheeks, and you look great in pink.

-

The semi awkward behavior continues.

Well, scratch that – this weird, mustered tension continues.

While the two remain attached at the hip like usual, things feel more intimate between them, if that makes any sense. Perhaps it’s Tanjiro overthinking things (which he certainly has a habit of doing), but his heart never stops its hurried beating, nor does the warmth swirling around in his belly seize from making him feel like mush. What’s more, Hayami’s eyes seem to glitter more whenever they’re trained on Tanjiro, and her lips are usually parted, almost like she’s silently asking for a kiss.

Things are usually toned down when they’re in other people’s company – namely Nezuko, whenever she decides to awaken. It’s at very moments like this when the three are taking comfort in each other’s company; hidden in the shade on the engawa, a flower-scented breeze passes through the thin material of their yukatas, yet the mere warmth of the day is enough to keep even the slightest chills away. Nezuko sits before Hayami, legs drawn up to her chest while the latter braids the inky strands of her hair. If anything, the sight of the two of them together makes Tanjiro’s chest swell with joy.

He openly admires Hayami’s profile, at the cute little beauty mark dotted above her lips. At first, Tanjiro would always feel silly whenever he’d catch himself staring. He isn’t outrightly bold like Zenitsu or ignorant like Inosuke, so knowing that his eyes are lingering longer than they should makes him feel slightly uneasy. But now – now he doesn’t care, for Hayami will often times catch his gaze with her own.

Something wonderful is happening between them, Tanjiro knows it, but he just doesn’t know what it is yet.

“A mission for you! A mission for you!” the lone cry of Tanjiro’s Kasugai crow sounds from above.

Tanjiro’s heart plummets to his stomach. No, this can’t be happening. Not yet. He can’t say goodbye to Hayami just yet, not when things are going so well between them.

“Kamado Tanjiro! Sumiyuri Hayami!” the crow squawks, fluttering onto the end of the engawa. “A demon has been spotted in the nearby area! To the East, yes! You two are to take care of it!”

Tanjiro blinks owlishly at his crow. If that’s the case-

Both he and Hayami share a look. The break was nice while it lasted, but now it’s time to suit up.

-

There’s always been something so sobering about pulling on the slayer uniform. It’s a blatant sign that this day could be your last, that whatever lies ahead could be the very thing that kills you. Still, the thick fabric brings an odd sense of calmness and comfort – that everything will be alright.

“You ready, Nezuko?” Tanjiro asks, turning to his sister.

Nezuko hums her agreement, nodding her head along with it. His heart pangs once his gaze falls on the thick braid hanging down her back. It’s quite possible that that could’ve been the very last time Hayami ever does her hair like that. No, Tanjiro hastily scolds himself, never think like that. Both he and Hayami are strong fighters.

They’re going to make it out of this alive, no matter what.

Nezuko shrinks in size and crawls into her box; Tanjiro shuts the door behind her before heaving it up and slipping his arms through the straps. Once he’s sure she’s properly adjusted on his back, he picks up his blade and steps out of his room, easing the shoji door shut. He’s just in time to see Hayami do the same thing. Their eyes meet automatically, a silent message passing between them.

Be careful.

Tanjiro clears his throat. “Are you ready?”

Smoothing down her haori – yes, that one – Hayami gives a curt nod, her long ponytail bobbing with the movement. “As ready as I’ll ever be. Besides, with the both of us on the same side, this shall be easy, no?” She flashes him a reassuring smile. “It’s like the good old times, Tanjiro. We get to finally travel together again.”

Biting back a smile, Tanjiro resists the urge to giggle like some love-stricken fool. Which, if he’s being entirely honest, he is one, but he also wants to keep some sliver of dignity. “You… do have a point.”

Hayami merely waves a hand. “Of course I do. But Tanjiro,” she pauses, cocks her head, “you should really pull your hair up.”

Instinctively, a calloused hand shoots to his head, rough fingers pawing at the strands. While it’s nothing compared to Hayami’s length, the ends of his hair kiss his collarbones. “You think so?”

“Absolutely. Hang on, I’ll take care of it.”

Before he gets the chance to say anything, Hayami promptly opens the door to her room and disappears from sight. A moment later she returns, although this time with a black ribbon in her hand. If its lustrous sheen has anything to say, Tanjiro knows it’s one of her expensive ones.

“Wait,” he quickly says, eyes widening, “I don’t want to ruin one of your good ribbons-“

“Tanjiro,” Hayami cuts him off, voice soft. “Don’t worry about it. I’m giving this to you. Think of it as a good luck charm or something.” Again, she flashes him a pretty smile and Tanjiro practically melts on the spot.

Without another word, he drops down onto his knees, allowing Hayami to get a better reach for his hair. The heels of her boots clack against the floor as she steps behind him; the familiar scent of lavender fills his nostrils as she gets closer, her fingers running through his hair and combing out any potential knots. He relaxes at the contact – it feels good to have her fingers running through his hair. A sigh passes through his lips as his eyes flutter shut.

Hayami takes her time, carefully smoothing out the strands and gathering Tanjiro’s thick hair in a fist while the other quickly wraps the ribbon around the base of the ponytail. After tying a secure knot, Hayami’s fingers linger on Tanjiro’s head just a bit too long. Clearing her throat, she pulls away, leaving a pang of disappointment to stab Tanjiro in the heart.

“There,” she says, stepping around to his front, “that’s better, yes?”

A hand reaches back and smooths down the ponytail. Tanjiro’s face crinkles as he grins at Hayami. “It’s great.”

After that eventful encounter, the two take off away from the Wisteria House, heading East as the Kasugai crow had instructed them earlier. The sunlight gradually dwindles as they venture further into the forest, the thick canopy throwing a green-hued shadow over everything. It’s a beautiful day outside, the birds chirping and bugs humming as yet another breeze picks up, carrying through the woods and rustling their haoris.

“What kind of demon do you think we’re looking for?” Hayami speaks up. It never fails to take Tanjiro by surprise when her friendly demeanor drops once demons are in the question. It’s almost if she becomes an entirely new person, incredibly strong-willed and cruel; in a sense, it puts Tanjiro in mind of Sanemi.

“I’m not entirely sure,” Tanjiro says earnestly. “Since the two of us were sent after it, I have a feeling that it’s not going to be easy to deal with.”

Maybe Tanjiro should’ve placed a bet on it. Maybe he’s been around the block too many times.

Either way, he was right.

After an hour or so of walking through the woods, the shade drastically darkened as they neared an alcove; a somewhat bitter odor hangs in the air, causing Tanjiro to scrunch his nose. Immediately, he forces himself to a halt, throwing out an arm in front of Hayami to stop her as well.

“There’s something here,” he murmurs.

Both of them place a hand on their blades, eyes scanning the surrounding environment for any sign of movement. The bitter smell grows more prevalent; Tanjiro can tell by the way it seems to pressurize his nose, but even now Hayami’s scrunching her face in discomfort. If only something would make a move-

Snap.

“There,” Hayami breathes. “Breath of the Swan, Seventh Form: Feint!” At her cry, she hurls her blade in the direction of the sound before disappearing in a flash of purple, following through with her attack and keeping out of sight. Leave it to Hayami to rush into battle without analyzing the situation first.

Even so, Tanjiro draws his blade and rushes forward, following the scent to its origin. Curving around the wide trunk of a mighty maple, Tanjiro slants his feet to draw himself to an immediate stop, kicking up dirt and foliage alike. Only a couple meters away stands a demon – the demon they were hunting after.

The beast resembles a woman, although her skin is entirely a light red and four arms sprout from the sockets of her shoulders. She’s huge, easily four or five heads taller than Tanjiro himself. Despite the monstrous qualities, her face is beautiful, lips full and eyes curtained by heavy lashes. Tanjiro finds himself hesitating when she turns to look at him; her eyes are completely white, no trace of an iris or pupil anywhere. Creepy.

“Were you the one who threw this?” the demon demands, her voice commanding yet melodic.

Shifting his gaze to her hand, Tanjiro pales at the sight of Hayami’s blade clutched in a strong fist. Her breathing form didn’t land its hit, he’s quick to realize.

Shit.

“It doesn’t matter,” Tanjiro says, holding out his blade before him. “I’m afraid I can’t let you leave.”

“HYAH!” Hayami’s voice shouts. She emerges from the wall of trees, legs raised high in a lethal kick; the gleam of her bladed heels catches Tanjiro’s eye. The demon turns just in time to have its cheek sliced as Hayami’s feet fly past. Dark red pours from the cut and the demon hisses in pain, white eyes flashing angrily. Hayami gracefully falls into a tumble as she lands, rolling over her shoulder and lessening the impact.

“Hayami,” Tanjiro says urgently, “your blade didn’t land on her.”

Spitting out a curse, Hayami’s glare lands on the very hand clutching onto her blade. “Well, clearly I have to take it back from the damned thing,” she snarls. Tanjiro shudders at her tone – the venom clearly dripping from the words, the icy edge. Hell, her voice is enough to send demons running, and Tanjiro can’t blame them. “Tanjiro,” she shoots, turning her gaze to him, “let’s get rid of this bitch once and for all.”

The demon laughs, a singular had cupping her mouth while the other two brace themselves on her hips. “Oh, pathetic humans, do you really think it’d be that simple?” Reaching out a hand, she curls her fingers salaciously, her black claws wickedly sharp. “It’s been so long since I’ve had any proper fun,” she drawls, using that very hand to clutch her neck. “Do me a favor and take a deep breath.”

Tanjiro grunts as that sharp, bitter smell clogs his nose, fills his lungs. The more he breathes in, the dizzier he feels; a flush erupts on his face, paired along with beads of sweat. What the hell even is this?

“Oops, my bad,” the demon taunts. She makes a show of flinging Hayami’s blade back to her before crouching low, all four arms spread in an offensive stance. “And I’m suddenly feeling very hungry!” she booms. “Come on, come at me with all you got!”

Jaw ticking, Hayami snatches her blade off the ground and wipes the handle off with a look of disgust. “Tanjiro?”

“Already on it.”

Like the flick of a switch, the both of them spring into action, swerving around each other and taking either side of the demon. A deep growl emanates from the demon’s chest; her gaze flickers back and forth between the two as they charge at her, their movements invisible to the human eye – human eye, not demon.

This is a battle between life and death.

Maybe it lasts for seconds, minutes, hours. The constant twisting of bodies, water, and feathers create a hurricane in that small alcove; there’s an endless round of shouting and spitting curses, mixing in with the clang of metal hitting tough skin. And yet, the florally breeze still sweeps through their hair and the birds still sing – because, even where danger lurks, peace can still be found.

The demon howls as Tanjiro promptly slices off an arm, the meaty thud of it hitting the ground seemingly echoing. It disappears in a cloud of dust, leaving behind flattened grass in its shape.

That warm, dizzying feeling never recedes, either. Tanjiro figures it must be for weakening prey or something of the sort; his nose scrunches at the strong scent and he reminds himself to not breathe, but it’s also somewhat hard to do since all slayers’ fighting styles revolve around breathing. How utterly ironic and a pain to deal with.

“You bastard!” the demon screeches, baring her fangs at Tanjiro. “I’ll rip your guts out!” She swings another arm, then, landing a direct hit and sending him flying backwards. Tanjiro grunts as his side collides with the fat trunk of a tree, all wind getting knocked from his lungs.

Tanjiro groans as he forces himself to sit up, a hand clutching his ribs. Shit, he’d be lucky if he didn’t crack a rib again. The wild, howling cry of a beast rips through the air, makes Tanjiro’s blood still in his veins. Through his hazy vision, he sees Hayami successfully bring her blade down on the demon’s neck, slicing through the thick skin and decapitating the damned thing.

Heaving a sigh of relief, Tanjiro leans back against the tree, wincing at the thrum of pain in his side. He continues to watch as Hayami lands on her feet, the demon collapsing onto its stomach and screeching profanities as it disintegrates. Thank the gods, Tanjiro says to himself as he staggers to a stand, hand splayed on the trunk to keep himself steady. He and Hayami made it out alive, but…

Something’s wrong.

His heart drops to his stomach as Hayami falls onto her knees, hunching over and retching. Calling out her name, he hobbles over to where she kneels; immediately, he clamps a hand over his nose, that bitter smell the demon emanated stronger than ever before. It positively reeks where its dead body lied. Tanjiro figures it must have unleashed a huge burst of the odor before it was slain – probably in an attempt to get Hayami to back off, no doubt.

“By the gods,” Tanjiro breathes, dropping to Hayami’s height and holding her hair back, “are you alright? What happened?”

“She released a wave of her Blood Art,” Hayami grunts, dragging the back of her hand across her mouth and grimacing. “I don’t think I’ve ever smelt anything to foul in my life.”

“You killed it – that’s all that matters,” Tanjiro assures her. “You did great!”

Finally, Hayami turns to him; her fair skin is even whiter than usual, fat droplets of sweat beading at her hairline and trickling down her forehead.

Tanjiro’s jaw slackens. “She didn’t hurt you, did she?”

Hayami waves a dismissive hand. “I just threw up – do you really expect me to look good after that?” Despite her sickly pallor, she flashes him a tiny smile. “I’m fine, Tanjiro. Besides, you’re the one who got hurt!” She makes a desperate clutch at his hands, eyes roaming over his features for any injuries. “I just – I got so mad that she hurt you. I mean, what if it was worse?”

“Says you!” Tanjiro exclaims, wiping the sweat from her forehead with the sleeve of his haori. “We should get you get to the Wisteria House before you get sick again.”

“I told you I’m fine.”

“At least let me carry you! I can put Nezuko’s box on my front and you can hitch a ride on my back.”

“No need,” Hayami grunts. Turning to the side, she spits the gross taste from her mouth and hauls herself to a stand. “I’m a big girl, Tanjiro. If there’s anybody that needs to be carried, it’s you.” She holds out a hand for him to take. “You worry me too much,” she says, voice now soft. Swallowing down his unease, Tanjiro grabs onto the extended hand and allows himself to be pulled up.

Leaning into Hayami, they turn away from the alcove, letting the singing birds and humming bugs be the only noise as they head back to the Wisteria House.

-

It’s a miracle they both came out unscathed.

After a quick checkup at the Wisteria House, it had been deemed that the two were mostly uninjured (the term was tossed around lightly since Tanjiro managed to get a bruise on his side after the impact). Thankfully, Hayami was free of anything of the sort, but her fever remained.

It was evening time when they finally arrived back, the glowing bulb in the sky making its gradual descent. Hayami decided to call it a night and retired to her room, leaving Tanjiro and Nezuko behind in her wake. Nezuko followed suit and decided that she, too, wanted to relax, so she took off towards the bathing chamber.

Back in the comfortable silence of his own room, Tanjiro slides the shoji screen closed behind him, all the while heaving a sigh. Easing himself onto the sprawled-out futon on the far side of the room, he leisurely kicks off his seta and undoes his kyahan, his tabi quickly following suit. It’s when he’s shucking off his haori when he hears it – a light, muffled groan, almost like the kind someone makes when they’re uncomfortable. Stilling his movements, Tanjiro waits for it again.

There.

“Gods, please…”

Tanjiro’s eyebrows furrow. It’s clearly Hayami’s voice alright, but what’s going on? Is she alright? Is she in trouble?

Without another moment’s hesitation, Tanjiro grabs his blade and brings himself to a stand; hurrying out of his room and to Hayami’s, he nearly wrenches her door open in his thoughtless rush to help. Like usual, the paper lanterns in her room radiate a welcoming glow. The somewhat dim light throws shadows over the tatami mats and the rice paper walls alike, but what instantly catches Tanjiro’s attention is the human-sized lump lying on the floor.

Tossing and turning on her futon, Hayami continues to grumble to herself; an arm is thrown over her eyes, the other draped over her stomach. Her boots lay off to the side, clearly tossed away as a second thought in her rush to get comfortable. Feet planted squarely on the futon, her knees are bent, the skirt to her uniform flipped and showing off way too much skin.

At first, Tanjiro blushes at the sight of her bare legs and thighs, but then she groans again and it’s enough to snap him back to reality. Setting his blade down, he hurries to her side, kneeling down and smoothing her bangs away from her face. Keening at his touch, she tears her arm away from her face and looks to him with pleading eyes. Her skin is unbearably hot to the touch, flushed a bright pink and covered in sweat. Hell, she looks even worse now than she did so earlier.

“Shh, I’m here, I’m here,” Tanjiro coos.

Gods dammit, that demon’s Blood Art was still taking its toll on Hayami. While its side effects have already worn off for Tanjiro, it’s clear that it’s way worse for her. Poor girl, getting horribly sick and having to suffer like this.

“Tanjiro,” she croaks, “it hurts.”

Oh, and the tone she uses. Tanjiro’s heart aches in empathy at the pain she must be enduring. “Where does it hurt?”

Perhaps he may have given her too much of an opening for that question.

His eyes widen as the hand resting over her stomach drops downward, shamelessly clutching at her crotch through her underwear. “Right here,” she breathes. “Please, Tanjiro…”

Surprise swells in his abdomen as she lightly paws at her sex, at the noises that almost sound like whines falling from her full mouth. There’s something else – something that Tanjiro recognizes as the weighted, hot feeling in his gut that only visits him in the hours of the night, only when he has a hand wrapped around himself, pulling and flicking and-

Oh no.

Tanjiro sucks in a breath, trying to rein in his composure, but then the smell of lavender and something sweet fills his nostrils. His mouth waters at the scent and he swallows heavily.

“Tanjiro,” Hayami pleads, squirming underneath his gaze, “please, help me. Please.”

The bitter odor. The way Hayami got sick. This.

“Gods, Tanjiro, help me!” Hayami cries.

Aphrodisiac.

A surprised yelp bursts from his chest as Hayami abruptly yanks him forward, pins him to the futon, and straddles his waist. “It’s too much!” she pleads, voice shaking. “Please, please, help me.”

“Hayami-“

Before he even gets the chance to finish, Hayami ducks down, sliding her mouth against his. Tanjiro’s mind screams at him, his heart leaps to his throat, his stomach tightens into a knot – Hayami is kissing him. After all this time, it’s happening.

She tastes so sweet, her lips unbelievably soft against his. His head is spinning at the unfolding events, but then his mind goes completely blank as her lips skim over the line of his jaw and latch onto the side of his throat instead. His breath hitches as her teeth nip at the tanned skin, crawling downwards toward the edge of his uniform.

“It’s too much,” she murmurs, reaching between them and yanking the buttons to his gakuran open. “Too many layers.”

“Hayami,” Tanjiro says, catching the growing rasp in his voice, “wait a second-“

A strangled groan escapes his throat as Hayami presses into him, her clothed pussy rubbing against the obvious tent in his pants. Hands twitching at his sides, he wonders what the hell he should even do. He doesn’t want to take advantage of her like this – in fact, he doesn’t want to take advantage of her at all. It’s already bad enough that she’s told him about past bad experiences, how they’ve taken a toll on her, how far she’s come to get over the trauma. No, Tanjiro doesn’t want to put her through that again, not even if the constant friction against his cock feels heavenly.

“Tanjiro, look at me,” she says, sitting up and looking him right in the eye, “I… I don’t think the Blood Art is going to wear off by itself.” Leaning back down, she presses her luscious breasts into him, eyes catching the flickering lights of the lanterns. She looks like she’s damn close to tears. “I trust you, Tanjiro,” she confesses. “I trust you more than anybody.”

I trust you.

Heart beating a thousand shades of red, the backs of Tanjiro’s eyes sting with emotion. She trusts him. Gods, she trusts him in a time of upmost vulnerability, to take care of her and give her what she needs. No, he tells himself, I need this just as much.

Cupping her face, he pulls her into another kiss; the two of them mold perfectly together, lips slanting and tongues caressing each other in way that is utterly incredible. Together, they sit up, hands intermingling between their bodies and yanking away at Tanjiro’s uniform jacket and shirt. The air feels warm against his bare skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat radiating off Hayami’s. The layers of clothing seem to melt off, leaving them gasping into each other’s mouths and wandering their hands over uncovered territory.

There’s a slight quake to her movements, Tanjiro notices. If he didn’t know any better, he’d simply say it’s because of arousal, but it’s not that.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmurs, brushing his calloused fingers down her back.

“You won’t.” She kisses him again, tongue sweeping into his mouth in a fit of passion.

It’s just so easy pressing her onto her back, kissing her sweet, sweet skin; Tanjiro makes his descent, lips brushing over her collarbones, the swell of her breasts, her tummy, all the way down to where that delicious smell comes from. He goes easy at first, his inexperience clearly showing, but Hayami doesn’t seem to mind.

The noises slipping from her mouth are otherworldly. They grace his ears, drive him to work harder, to slip his tongue further into her dripping arousal, to clutch at her strong thighs. Fuck, and he’s so hard, cock brushing against the futon and leaving a sticky mess.

“Pretty boy, so good, so fucking good,” Hayami murmurs. Tanjiro’s cock twitches at the words, causes him to shudder. “More, I need more – gods, Tanjiro, my handsome boy, give me more.” He moans into her pussy as her fingers grip onto the base of his ponytail and yank.

Everything is just so hot and it feels good and Hayami tastes as sweet as she smells and Tanjiro can’t get enough-

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Tanjiro grits, tongue lashing out as Hayami’s slick floods his mouth. “Sweetheart…” Propping himself up, his eyes frantically search for Hayami’s. He feels tremendously dizzy, a fog covering his mind and making him want everything he can take. “Can I – can I fuck you?” he blurts.

Hayami nods eagerly. “Yes.”

Groaning, Tanjiro pumps at his neglected cock, smearing precum over his meaty girth; leaning in, the head brushes against Hayami’s folds, gathering slick before pushing in, filling her up in a way that has them both moaning. He shudders as Hayami slings her arms and legs around him, shifting her hips and fucking herself on his cock. He doesn’t want to hurt her – he wants to go slow, show her how much she truly means to him, but fuck if he doesn’t feel like some wild animal.

He’s desperate in his movements, pumping his cock in and out of her tight heat, murmuring you’re so beautiful, you’re so beautiful, gods, you feel fucking amazing into her neck. The scent of her arousal clings to the insides of his nostrils, makes him even dizzier in the head. A little nagging thought in the back of his mind tells him that the effects spread from her to him, but he doesn’t care.

Her velvety walls suck his cock back in so easily, the lewd squelching and smacking of skin against skin making him want to fuck her even harder.

“Tanjiro, shit – your cock’s amazing,” she mutters into his ear, fingers yanking on his hair as she quickens the movements of her hips. “You trying to make me feel good, yeah? Fuck me with that thick cock of yours?”

Her words do wonders for his libido. If she continues to talk to him like that, he’s gonna cum in no time. “Can I,” he pauses, swallows thickly, “can I put a baby in you? Please, beautiful, you’d look so gorgeous being all nice and plump with my child.”

“Yes,” she purrs, digging her fingernails into the dips of his muscular shoulder blades. “Make me yours, Tanjiro. Show the world that you fucked me so good.”

It’s those words that push Tanjiro over the edge; ramming himself in deep, he releases his load, painting her insides white. He mouths at her throat, whimpering slightly as he bucks his hips a few more times, the sheer amount of cum being too much for her precious little pussy to handle.

“Good boy,” she purrs. “Now just-“ cutting herself off short, she directs his hand to her pussy, placing his rough fingers to her clit and guiding him through the movements. She cums soon after that, head lolling backward as a breath of Tanjiro’s name catches in her throat.

Tanjiro takes extra care of her after that, murmuring sweet nothings in her ear as he wipes the both of them clean. It pains him to leave her side for that short amount of time, but then he’s soon slinging his arms around her body, nestling his chin in the crook of her shoulder as they drift into a dreamless sleep.

-

Tanjiro wakes up to the sound of birds chirping.

With a groan, he tries to stretch, but he soon tenses up at the fact that he can’t move. Glancing downwards, his heart skips a beat as he’s met with Hayami’s pretty face; she’s still fast asleep with her arms linked around his waist and keeping him in place. Flashes of the night prior fill his vision, leave him heavily flushed and smiling sheepishly.

Breathe in, breathe out. Focus, Tanjiro, focus.

He thinks he’s finally died and went to heaven.

[prettyboyreid]

i love you most

After a particularly rough case, Spencer wonders if it’s time for him to step down from the Behavioral Analysis Unit.

Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: violence against children (nothing too graphic), out of order plot lines

Word Count: 4,116

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the photos Garcia displayed on the screen, shifting uncomfortably in my seat as she gave us all of the information that the detectives had sent to her.  Three kids, all little boys, had been found in local parks in Oklahoma City, posed on the swings.  They hadn’t been reported missing, so they had to assume they were taken in the middle of the night.

“How old were the boys?” Rossi asked, doing his best to keep his attention away from the pictures provided for them.

“Uh, all of them had turned four in the past two months,” Penelope answered, thankful she could face away from the screen as she gave them all the information they needed.  I chewed on the inside of my cheek, rifling through the file I’d been given when I stepped in the door of the round table room.

“They were all taken a few days apart.  We can’t waste any time with this; wheels up in thirty,” Hotch announced, folding his own file up before exiting the room quickly, moving in the direction of his office.  I could tell he wasn’t entirely prepared for this case - none of us were.  He had a young son at home, JJ had two, and Morgan had one on the way.  This case was hitting close to home, and I could tell we all couldn’t help but think what if it was one of them?

We all sat at the table in silence for a moment, Garcia turning off the screen so we didn’t have to look at the pictures longer than we needed to.  None of us moved for a solid two minutes, preparing ourselves for what we’ll have to face through the next few days. 

JJ was the first to get up and leave the room.  She wiped at her cheeks with the pads of her thumb as she made her way down to the bullpen.  Morgan followed next, then Rossi and Emily.  Garcia and I sat in the room for a moment, her hand resting heavily on my shoulder as she passed me to go back to her tech room.

I pulled the phone out of my pocket and dialed a number that was committed to my memory, holding it to my ear before standing up from my seat.  It only rang twice before my favorite voice answered. 

“Spence?  What’s up?”  she asked in a somewhat worried tone.  I usually didn’t call her in the middle of the day, and the last time she got a call around this hour, I had gotten shot in the knee. 

I couldn’t really blame her for being nervous.

“Hey, uh, I just wanted to tell you we got a case… it’s in Oklahoma,”  I explained to her, leaning against the large wooden table as I spoke.  Having known her as long as I have, I could tell she was frowning at the news.  She always did whenever I had to go away on a case. 

“Do you think it’ll take you very long?  Should I move our trip down to Ocean City from this weekend to next week or something?”  I could hear the disappointment in her voice.  She’d been looking forward to this trip for months, especially since I technically was supposed to be on one of my mandated leaves for the next thirty days starting Friday. 

“No, no, I should be home before then.  I’ll keep you updated, alright?”  I assured her, folding my free arm across my chest before glancing up at the clock on the wall.

“Okay,”  she sighed out, clearly out of relief.  “Be safe.  I love you.”  I still got butterflies every time I heard her say those three simple words. 

“I will.  I love you more,”  I reminded her with a grin, hanging up the phone before sliding it into my back pocket.  I made my way down to my desk and grabbed my go-bag, heading towards the elevator with the rest of the team so we could head to the jet.

-

Morgan and I were instructed to go to the latest crime scene.  On the jet, Penelope called us to tell us that a new body had been discovered that morning.  I volunteered to go, just so no one else would have to.  Derek, of course, wanted to come with me.  Not exactly in a protective way, but just to make sure I was alright.  It was an intense case, and he knew I had breaking points just like everyone else.  He didn’t want me to reach that point, not in front of a bunch of detectives or grieving parents.

The scene was enough to make Morgan lose his breakfast.  He heaved over a trash can in the park, and all I could do was pat his back comfortingly.  His forehead was glistening with sweat in the midday sun of Oklahoma, which he wiped at with his wrist once he stood up again. 

“You alright?” I asked cautiously, retreating my hands to the pockets of my black slacks.  I glanced between him and the crime scene that had been taped off, noticing how none of the officers or detectives would get within twenty feet of the swingset unless they had to.

“I will be, once we catch whoever the hell’s doing this,” he said, clearing his throat before approaching the scene as if nothing had happened.  I followed quickly behind him, cautious as we made our way closer to the playground. 

There was a bruise in the shape of a comparatively large hand around his small neck, his hands taped down to the chains of the swing with clear packing tape.  His head rested against his right hand, his eyes left open and fixated on the open, barren playground in front of him. 

I could understand how Morgan got sick after one glance.  If I had eaten more than a granola bar and a cup of coffee for breakfast, I probably would’ve done the same. 

“He was just a kid,” I heard my partner remind the two of us in a hushed voice next to me, walking around the swing to try and get a better understanding of the crime scene.  The longer we stared at it, the worse it seemed to get.  From adhesive residue from tape or glue around his mouth to red friction marks around his wrists.  Just looking at it felt like a knife twisting in my stomach. 

It got harder and harder to focus on the task at hand, so Morgan and I stepped away and back towards the SUV we had driven here. 

“How could anyone do that to a kid?”  I asked no one in particular, my hand resting on the black door handle as I glanced back towards the swings again.  I was trying to picture some happy moments families would have shared there, trying to turn this into something that wasn’t so grim and gut-wrenching. 

It wasn’t working very well.

“That’s what we’re gonna find out, Reid,” Morgan reassured me, looking over at me from the top of the vehicle before stepping in.  I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the sight, a feeling of homesickness washing over me suddenly.  I let out a heavy sigh before joining him, pulling the seat belt over my chest before sinking back into the black leather seats. 

We sat in silence for a while, watching as the detectives and the local Crime Scene Unit collected the last of the evidence they needed, trying to analyze the scene as much as we could from our seats.  

“When you found out about Savannah being pregnant,” I started, turning my attention over to the man sitting next to me.  He turned to face me as well, intrigued by the way I had chosen to start my sentence.  “Did you consider leaving all of this?  The FBI?”  I asked, chewing on the inside of my cheek.  He looked ahead after I finished, clearly pondering over the heavy question.

“Yeah, I did,” he answered honestly, still watching as the Crime Scene Unit put the rest of the evidence in the back of a black van.  “But I never thought I really would until today,” he finished, putting the car in reverse before pulling out of the parking spot. 

-

It had been two days.  Two long, gruesome days that I wished would have given us answers.  

But we came up with nothing. 

We interviewed the parents of all four boys, went to their preschools and daycare centers, even Mommy and Me groups that they used to go to.  

Still nothing.  

It wasn’t just my team that was getting impatient; the Oklahoma City Police Department seemed to get more and more aggravated every day.  I couldn’t say I blamed them. 

“We might have something,” Jennifer said as she came into the room, a thin file in her hand.  She opened it up once she was at the head of the table the rest of us were sitting at, pulling out a picture of a woman and a paper that looked similar to a background check Garcia would run. 

“This is Miranda Laughlin.  She’s twenty-eight years old, and she ran a nursery all of the boys went to when they were infants.  The funding for the nursery fell through before the boys were eighteen months, and closed down soon after,” she explained, shoving the file into the middle of the long table before leaning against it. 

“Why do you think she has anything to do with this?” I asked, taking the picture and looking at it.  She had looked oddly familiar, but not enough to resonate with me.

“She had a son, Grayson.  He was the same age as the boys, and he’s the reason she opened up the nursery in the first place.  Three months ago, when her husband was driving him back from a play date, they were in a car crash.  The son was choked by the seat belt and died when paramedics couldn’t reach him,” she told them, a grimace apparent on her face as she had to explain to them what happened.  “His birthday was the day before the first boy was found.”

“That’s one hell of a stressor,” Rossi said, looking over the background check before looking up at the rest of the team.  Everyone else pushed out of their seats almost immediately, heading for the door.  I was about to follow suit, before Hotch stopped me. 

“Are you up for this?” he asked, his voice sounding somehow more serious than it usually was.  “I know you were at the crime scenes, and I don’t want you to do something in the field that you’ll regret,” he told me, but I nodded softly. 

“I want to be there to arrest her.  I want to make sure she pays for this,” I told him, pushing past him before following the rest of the team out to the SUVs.  

I took a Kevlar vest from Emily before strapping it on, making sure we all had everything before I got in the back seat.  I pulled my seat belt on and locked in place, glancing up for a brief moment as the car lurched out of its parking spot quickly and headed down towards the Laughlin house.

- 

The jet ride home was silent.  You could barely even hear anyone breathing.  It gave me an uneasy feeling - the loudest people I know being more than quiet, but I wouldn’t want it to be any other way right now. 

I had texted my wife that we were on our way home, and I could tell how excited she was that I’d be home for vacation.  I couldn’t wait to get home, not just for vacation, but just to hold her tightly and remind her how much I had missed her. 

We seemed to land back in DC quicker than we had arrived in Oklahoma, and despite voicing the fact about the way the tailwinds work in our favor, I just stayed quiet, just like everyone else.  

We went to the sixth floor of the FBI building, gathering up anything we would have left behind before we all filed out, one by one.  Some people took the stairs, some the elevators.  We just needed to be alone, or we needed something we couldn’t receive from the other members of our team. 

I took the stairs.  I held the brown leather satchel close to my body as I descended six flights of stairs, relishing in the silence and the echo of my shoes hitting the concrete floors.  The door to the lobby seemed heavier than usual, like it carried the weight of everything we worked on in a simple eighty inch by thirty-six inch slab of metal.  

Nonetheless, I made my way through the barren lobby and out to the parking lot.  I made a beeline for my car before getting in the driver’s seat, tossing my go bag and satchel into the passenger seat before pulling out of the nearly empty parking lot.

It wasn’t a long drive back to our house - twenty minutes, tops.  But tonight, the road seemed to stretch out miles and miles more than they should.  Time seemed to slow down, as if I had driven back home from Oklahoma.  I relished in the quiet, the whipping of the wind beneath the tires in my car and the soft zoom that I’d hear every now and then when a car passed by me.  When I finally pulled into the driveway of the white house with vines climbing up the sides, I noticed the light from the living room was still on.  I quickly checked the time on my watch as I grabbed my things. 

8:26.

They should still be awake.

I couldn’t help but smile at the thought, locking the car doors behind me once I had gathered all of my belongings.  I practically sprinted up the front steps to unlock the door, setting my bags down the second I made it past the threshold and saw practically the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. 

Y/N was sitting on the couch, with our son Ethan tucked under her arm, sucking on his thumb as he was entranced in the cartoons displayed on the television.  His head snapped up the moment he heard the bags drop, a bright smile displayed on his face as he wriggled out of his mother's grasp. 

“Daddy!  You’re home!”  he exclaimed, the soft patter of his sock-covered feet drowning my ears as he ran up to me with his arms open wide.  I crouched down so I could be at his height, picking him up the second his arms wrapped around my neck.  I held him close to me, holding his curly-haired head in my large palm as I stood up. 

“I missed you so much, bug,” I breathed out to him, smiling as I felt his face nuzzle into the crook of my neck, his head resting on my shoulder. 

“I missed you too!  Mommy said you would be home tonight, so I wanted to stay up with her,” Ethan explained to me, pulling away slightly so he could look up at me as he talked.  I chuckled softly as I listened to his little rambling, moving my hand from his head to his back to keep him from leaning back too far.

“Is that so?” I said with a grin, looking over at Y/N as she stood up from her seat on the couch.  Our son nodded his head ferociously, his eyes squeezing shut as he did so.  “I bet you’re super tired then, huh?” I asked, pushing some of his bouncing curls out of his face.  

Even though I had a picture of him in my wallet and at least a hundred pictures of him on my phone, nothing would ever compare to his blazing brown eyes and amber curls being right in front of me. 

“Nope, I took an extra nap with mommy today so we could have ice cream when you got home,” he told me, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. 

I couldn’t help but laugh, nodding softly at his answer before kissing the top of his head.  “How about you go wait in your chair at the island, and I’ll be there in a minute, okay?” I told him, and he nodded quickly, letting me set him down before he ran into the kitchen. 

I faced Y/N for the first time in much too long, smiling almost lazily as she wrapped her arms around my neck.  My hands instinctively held onto her hips, kissing her softly with a wide grin.  I held her against me for a moment, having missed everything about her for nearly four days.  It physically pained me to be away from my family for that long, but it always made the time I spent home so much more valuable. 

“Rough case?” she asked, pulling away from me, her hands falling down to my own before lacing them together.  I nodded softly, my nose scrunching up a bit at the thought.  

“It was kids… all of them the same age as Ethan,” I told her softly, worried that he might overhear despite being a room away.  I hated letting him hear me talk about work, and tried to keep the cases away from him as much as possible. 

She just nodded softly, pushing some of my hair out of my face as she gave me a sympathetic smile.  “Go spend time with your son.  I’ll tidy all of this up,” she promised, leaning up on the tips of her toes before pressing a soft kiss to my nose.  I thanked her softly and gave her a small smile, heading into the kitchen where I saw Ethan waiting patiently, his feet swinging excitedly beneath the stool.  My smile only grew at the sight of him, ruffling his hair up slightly before opening the freezer. 

“How does moose tracks sound?” I asked, pulling it out before waiting for an answer.  It was his favorite ice cream, and he could never say no to it.  I turned around to see him nodding quickly with a bright toothy smile, folding his hands together in his lap as he waited excitedly.

I spent another good hour, at least, sitting at the kitchen island, just eating our bowls of ice cream while Ethan caught  me up on everything I had missed in the past few days.  So far, he had made three new friends, made a lot of crafts with his mom, and watched Star Trek with his mom (“Because I missed you, Daddy.”)  It made my heart wrench at the thought of missing so much, even though, in reality, it wasn’t relatively that much. 

Once I got him cleaned up and had the dishes in the sink, he seemed tuckered out and about to pass out against my leg he was leaning against.  I bent down to pick him up, carefully resting his head on my chest as I carried him through the living room and up the stairs to his room.  I didn’t need to flick on the light, considering the little night light on the other side of the room and the fact I probably knew this room better than the back of my hand.  I pulled back the light sheets that had a solar system patterned across the soft fabric, carefully placing him down in the bed before tucking him in.  

He let his eyes open to meet mine lazily, smiling as he saw me next to him.  “You’re coming on the trip with us tomorrow, right?” he asked me, his voice tired and quiet as he spoke.  I nodded softly at his question, pushing his hair out of his eyes as I gave him a small smile.  

“Yeah, I am.  I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I promised him, leaning down before pressing a soft kiss to his head.  “G’night, bug.  I love you,” I told him, smiling as he blew a kiss to me, making sure to make a big mwah sound as he did. 

“Goodnight, daddy.  I love you more,” he said, curling up against his pillow and tucking his stuffed teddy bear under his arm. 

“And I love you most,” I added, smiling down at him as I slowly got up, heading to the door and closing it once I was out of the room.  I let out a heavy sigh, noticing that the hall light was off.  I headed down to the master bedroom, tugging off my tie and the expensive belt that rested on my hips.  

I pushed open the door, smiling as I saw Y/N laying on the bed, wearing one of my older button-up shirts and a pair of athletic shorts.  I tossed my clothes into a hamper in the corner of the room, grabbing a pair of basketball shorts from a set of drawers adjacent from our bed before tossing them on and joining her in the large bed. 

She immediately set her phone down and flicked off the lamp on her bedside table, curling up next to me and wrapping her arms around my torso.  I chuckled softly as she rested her head on my chest, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as I sank down into my spot in the mattress. 

We just laid quietly for a few moments, just drinking in the time we had together alone for the first time in too long.  My mind began racing with different thoughts, thinking back to everything Ethan had told me while we ate our late night snack together, and back to the case I dreadfully had to work. 

“What would you think about me stepping down from the BAU?”  I thought aloud, my eyes fixated on the patterns in the paint on the ceiling above us.  I felt her looking up at me, though, knowing it wasn’t what she was expecting to hear from me. 

She stayed silent for a little while longer, the gears turning in her head as she tried to think of a proper response.  I knew she had wanted me to quit, especially when Ethan was born, but she also knew it was one of the things I loved most in the world, behind the two of them.  I’d told her many times before that I feel this is what I was made for, but to think that I was missing out on so much made me hate it more and more each day.

“I think only you can decide that, Spence.  You know how I feel about it, but it’s your job.  It’s been your job for over fifteen years.  I can’t ask you to step down from it if you’re going to be unhappy,” she told me, her fingers trailing different miscellaneous shapes across my chest.  I nodded softly as I listened to her, wrapping an arm around her to hold her as close to me as possible. 

“What if I just went to teach at the academy?  They always need new teachers, and one that was from the BAU would be-”

“Spence,” she cut me off, knowing my ramblings could go on much longer than necessary.  “While I would love to talk about this, you need to sleep.  I know you haven’t had a good night’s sleep since you left, and we have thirty days until you have to go back to work, plus a three hour car ride tomorrow,” she explained, leaning up and pressing a soft kiss to my lips.  “I pinky promise, we’ll talk about it.  But right now, you need to sleep, okay?” 

I couldn’t help but smile as she babied me slightly, chucking before nodding softly, pulling the heavy duvet over the two of us.  “If you insist,” I grinned, letting my free hand rest around her as well.  I pressed my lips to her shoulder, despite them being covered by the familiar fabric of my old dress shirt. 

“Good night, angel.  I love you.”

“Good night, Spence.  I love you more,” she said, her hands combing back through my hair tiredly, doing her best to lull me to sleep.  

“I love you most,” I murmured wearily, holding her body as close to mine as I felt my eyes and mind becoming heavier and heavier, smiling to myself as the last conscious thought I had was how lucky I was, lucky to have a wife like her, a son like Ethan… how lucky I was to have people that cared about me.  

God knows I never thought I would.

tags: @danielleslegacy​

[louiseleblancdiggory]

Congratulations on 900 followers 💥💥"It makes me feel sick to my stomach listening to you coo over your new partner. And the worst part is that I have to smile and nod like it’s not killing me inside. " Can you please do this for nessian??? Please give it a happy ending please☹️

Aaah thank you!! I don’t know if this was the scenario you were thinking of, and if it isn’t just tell me and I can write something new. I’m sorry if it’s too long. I hope you like, tho!!

Word Count: 1688

New partner

--

This was Hell.

Or if it wasn’t Hell, if it was maybe a cosmic joke, the universe had a shitty sense of humor.

It was definitely a slap to her face.

Nesta Archeron was gripping her glass of whiskey so tightly in her hand that she was afraid it would break. Which would be terrible because it would cause her sisters to actually stop and pay attention to her. Today was Feyre’s day and Nesta didn’t want to ruin her sister’s dinner rehearsal by shattering a glass with her bare hands, but it was near impossible to let go of the only thing that was stopping her from strutting across the ballroom and attacking Cassian.

“I can’t believe he was the audacity.” Amren murmured by her side. Her mouth was against her glass of wine but her eyes were also fixated on Cassian. “Asshole. I can’t believe he brought someone else to Feyre and Rhysand’s rehearsal dinner for the wedding. How much of an idiot do you need to be?”

Nesta didn’t reply, just watched the scene from across the ballroom.

Five years. They had been together for five years, known each other for five more and it had taken him three weeks to get over their break up. The thought made her blood boil, as did the sign of Cassian’s hand on the back of a pretty redhead. She was smiling up at him in such a free way that Nesta knew she had never done so in public. It had never been a problem, Cassian had always known that Nesta preferred to keep it to their privacy. It had never been a problem until it had.

The fight still replayed in her head, over and over again for the past three weeks.

“Why are you like this?” By this point, it was almost a competition of who could scream the loudest. “Why can’t you just fucking give a little sometimes? I’m not fucking asking you to completely change, Nesta, but it’s so tiring being the one always accepting shit in this relationship.”

“Fuck off.” She spat, her face probably red with rage. “Why the fuck do you care if I am all smiles and happiness around other people? Why the fuck does it matter what other people think of me, of our relationship?”

“This is not what this is about.”

“This is exactly what this is about, Cass.”

“They are my friends!”

“I’m your fiancé!”

“At the moment this is an unfortunate fact!” As soon as the words left his mouth, his eyes widened. He took a step forward, but Nesta held up a hand. She had no idea how it wasn’t trembling. They were different, she had always known that, and there were no chances of either of them changing and that had been ok for their whole relationship. Part of her always imagined when Cassian would tire of her cold behavior and move on, but most of that fear had gone away when he proposed a few weeks before.

Nesta had never had her heart broken before, but she could swear she heard it breaking that moment. Heard it breaking while she pulled the engagement ring out of her finger and there it at his chest. The ring fell to the ground with a too loud thud.

“Why don’t we change that fact then, Cassian?” Her throat tightened. “It’s over. I’m tired. Go find someone else to scream at, someone else to be your fucking ray of sunshine whenever you guys go out. If you want someone so different from me, I won’t stop you.”

He tried to say something, tried to call her back but she was already at the door grabbing her car keys.

She could still hear her heart breaking.

Her mind snapped back to the present the moment she heard the thunder. She finally tore her eyes from Cassian and looked around the ballroom. Feyre was beaming at Rhysand, both of them lost in their little world. Elain was sitting with Azriel’s arm around her, both of them speaking to Mor. As if she could sense Nesta’s gaze, Mor turned around and looked at her. She glanced at Cassian before turning to Nesta again, giving her a shake of head that left very clear that Mor agreed with Amren.

When Varian came back to Amen’s side, Nesta insisted that they could go have fun and that she was ok. She was the one who ended things. She was fine. She was fine. She was fine.

She kept repeating it as they left to the dance floor, kept repeating it as she drowned her whiskey and finally let go of the glass. She only stopped repeating it when she looked at Cass again and saw him bending down to whisper something in the girl’s ear.

Nesta’s cheeks burned, her heart beating way too loudly in her chest. Suddenly tired, she grabbed her purse and started leaving. The rehearsal was over, and the hotel was on the other side of the street. If Feyre asked for her, both Mor and Amren would probably know that she went to her room and why.

The moment she stepped outside of the ballroom, she was completely wet from the rain. Not having the patience to wait for it to get better, she ducked her head and made to cross the street.

“So you’re just gonna fucking leave your sister’s dinner?” A man’s voice came from behind her. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, not turning around. “You’re just running away again.”

At that, she spun in his direction, his eyes burning like hot coals. “Go to Hell, Cassian.”

“Isn’t running the best you can do?” He was angry. He was furious by the look on his face. Good, she was too.

“What the fuck do you want, Cass? Do you want me to sit down inside and act like a behaved, proper lady? To be sitting quiet so you can feel as if I’m not running away from you again? To see you whisper sweet nothings in the ear of other women? To admit I shoudl change so you can feel good about yourself?”

“I never wanted you to change.” He shouted, spreading his arms. “And I still don’t. What I want is for you to talk to me, Ness. You left three weeks ago and ignored my phone calls, messages and I had to know through Amren and Mor how you were doing! So can you just fucking talk to me—“

“You want me to talk?” She laughed humorlessly. “Let’s talk. Let’s talk about how I always felt as if you were a step away from giving up on me because of my personality, and then three weeks ago it was exactly what you did!”

“I never gave up on you, I tried to talk to you every damn day for three weeks!”

She barely heard his words, her blood roaring at her ears.

“Let’s talk about how you showed up with someone else today and how it felt like a slap. How it makes me feel sick to my stomach listening to you coo over your new partner. And the worst part is that I have to smile and nod like it’s not killing me inside. This dinner was fucking torture. Hearing the two of you talk and laugh was fucking torture. Smiling like I was fine so there wouldn’t be awkwardness during the dinner was fucking torture. So if you really want to talk, Cass, start with how you broke my heart three weeks ago and did it again tonight.”

Her chest was rising and falling heavily, her throat sore. Even under the cold rain, she could feel her cheeks flaming up in shame. She was never an opened person about her feelings, and now she had laid them bare to her ex-fiance in the middle of the street. His eyes calmed down, and she wanted to tear him to shreds from the emotion she saw in his face.

As if approaching a wild animal, Cassian walked up to her until she had to tilt her head back and stare at him. He gently cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing hair strands away from her cheek.

“She’s a colleague from work. She would have come nonetheless, and I just offered her a ride. Feyre’s planner must have thought it was something else because before the rehearsal started, he added a place for her at our table.” He breathed out, his face framed with his sodden hair. He lowered his forehead until it almost touched hers, as if he was afraid that completely touching it would cause her to run away. “I didn’t want her to feel strange, and the only other person she knew in that table was Rhys and he was just too lost on Feyre. Mor and Amren looked ready to eviscerate me. I didn’t want to talk to you in front to everyone, did not want to have this conversation with them around. I am so sorry, baby, if I made you think I was with her. I could never be with her. I’ve known you for ten years, Nesta Archeron, and it would probably take ten times that for me to get over you. I don’t want you to change, and I am so sorry that I made you feel as you needed to. You are the fiercest, most perfect person I have ever had the luck of meeting. You were perfect ten years ago when we met, five years ago when we started dating and you are still perfect today. I loved you ten years ago, five years ago and I still do today.”

She was glad for the rain so Cassian couldn’t see her face soaked with her tears. Slowly, she raised herself on her tiptoes and pressed her mouth to his. Her hands sneaked up to the back of his neck, and the hands he had on her face went to her waist so he could pull her closer. Kissing Cassian after three weeks was like finally breathing after almost drowning. He was the focus of her entire being right now, and the world could fall apart as long as she had her body pressed against his, mouth in his as he extracted breathless moans and whimpers from her.

He only let go long enough for him to take something out of his pocket and show it to her. Their engagement ring, the red siphon bright against the streetlamps.

“Can we please talk, sweetheart?”

She kissed him once more as she nodded, and he sighed in relief as he put the ring back into her finger.

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Spit-Roast Psychiatrist [Part 5, Male Reader][18+]

<- Part 4 | Part 6 ->

Frederick Chilton x Reader x Bryan Kneef

For @thatesqcrush‘s Summer Bingo: anal square

With apologies to all medical professionals in the audience. I am absolutely sure this violates hospital policy :)

Warnings: NSFW. Hospital sex. Threesome. Anal sex. Blowjob with bedridden burn patient. Improper sterility procedures for removal of a foley catheter. Basically sounding. Not exactly piss kink (despite the debauched suggestions on Discord, no one drinks from Chilton’s catheter like a sippy-straw) but there is a bit of pee I mean not much but look it just kind of happens, OK?

5,500 words

Bryan Kneef shifted uncomfortably.

In another room, a heart monitor beeped quietly but incessantly, and if it continued much longer, he might go insane. The dry air filling the sterile white walls was slightly too cold for someone dressed in cool linen, prepared for a southern summer. Outside, bees and flowers filled the hazy orange world, but it was always winter inside the Chesapeake Hospital burn ward. His eyes darted around for the offending AC vent. Searching for anything to fixate on besides the man in front of him.

Frederick Chilton was laid out on a hospital bed like a corpse. Inflamed skin wrinkled with scars wrapped too tightly around his bones, as if there were no muscle in between, and white teeth grinned from his skull like a mummy. He hadn’t moved from that bed in months.

Bryan wasn’t one to cower from difficult situations, but this? He didn’t know how to behave around the sick.

“Well, you look like shit,” he at last blurted.

Frederick Chilton rolled his eyes, scowling as much as his face was able without the assistance of lips.

In the bedroom, Frederick reveled in being humiliated, the ego of his outside persona stripped away and torn down. He deserved it, and fuck, he loved getting what he deserved. And the praise for being a good little slut made him melt.

Outside was an entirely different matter. That carefully constructed persona—the esteemed psychiatrist who demanded respect—could not be threatened. Not by a vulgar, unpredictable man like Bryan who knew his filthy secrets.

So why did he call?

“I assure you, it looks better than it feels,” Chilton grunted. His speech was slow and deliberate. Daily sessions with a speech therapist were helping his cheeks and tongue learn to produce shapes and sounds his lips once handled, but it would never be quite the same.

Bryan took a step toward the bed. He puffed his chest out and pretended not to be bothered by the skeletal figure that seemed barely clinging to life.

“I’m not your dick-for-rent you can use whenever you want,” he said, cutting to the chase.

Chilton coughed—a weak, wheezing sound, accompanied by involuntary spittle. “Yet here you are, running when I call.”

Why did he come?

“Any chance to fuck our boy,” Bryan smirked. In other words: I’m not here foryou.

The flash of pain in Frederick’s eyes made him instantly regret saying it. It wasn’t the cute sort of jealousy when he had Fred on his knees, desperate to come—it was the kind that made his eyes drop to the floor.

A few hard lines on Bryan’s face softened. His lips went slack in their bearded nest. He would never admit that he had been worried sick, or the tears he’d shed when he heard the news. Baltimore Psychiatrist Mutilated by Red Dragon. He was pissed that he had to read it in a newspaper first, but your voice was so trembling and weak when you finally called—when you told him the doctors all said Frederick wasn’t going to make it. You were too distraught to think. He had to remind you to eat something. You asked if he wanted to come to the hospital to say goodbye, and he pretended he was too busy with a case.

But Frederick didn’t die.

A stillness came over the room, both men so lost in their thoughts they hardly noticed the other had also fallen silent.

“As you can see, I am in no condition to provide… sexual release.”

“Shame. You used to give great head.”

Affronted by Bryan’s piercing gaze, Frederick turned his head away as far as he could. It wasn’t far enough to hide his tattered mouth.

“I suppose I could return the favor,” Bryan mused, daring to lean closer over the bed, dropping his voice.

Blood rushed to Frederick’s cheeks and between his thighs. He had sucked Bryan off many times, but never had Bryan in a submissive position. The image of him between his legs, piercing eyes gazing up at him with a mouth stuffed full of his cock sent a shiver up his spine.

“No,” he stammered. “I asked you here for one reason.”

He was too skittish for such a thing now—too accustomed to Bryan’s roughness to trust him with his fragile body. Besides, he had not missed the shock on Bryan’s face when he entered the room, or how he almost turned around at the door. What would he say if he saw his grafted cock? Mere weeks ago, the poor organ had been flayed—flaps of skin peeled around the bloody shaft, stretched, split, pinned back down in place, and stitched together again under the head.

It was better now. The surgeries corrected uneven scarring that would have made erections painful, and it had time to heal. But it still felt… tender. Sore in a way that was not physical. It looked like a medical experiment.

No. He was not ready yet. But he wanted to see you happy. Bryan could give you pleasure his bedridden, broken shell could not.

***

You were surprised to find Bryan Kneef sitting in the visitor’s chair in the corner of the hospital room. He was flipping through an issue of The Wall Street Journal with a bored expression, one leg crossed over the other, but smiled and stood when you walked in.

“Bryan? What are you doing here?”

He paused long enough before answering to suggest the question stung—as if you were implying he shouldn’t have been there, which was not what you intended at all. In fact, it explained a few things.

“Shh. He’s sleeping,” he whispered.

A glance at the bed showed that Frederick was dozing peacefully—a rarity these days. You nodded your understanding. It would be a shame to wake him.

With a quiet sigh, you rushed into Bryan’s arms, burying your face against his solid form. Thick arms closed around your waist, warm and comforting, and his beard rubbed the back of your neck as he rested his chin over your shoulder.

“It’s good to see you,” you sniffed, and just like that, hot tears were rolling over the brim of your eyelids, soaking into the collar of Bryan’s white linen jacket.

“You too.”

He held you tighter, surprised at the lurch in his heart. His eyes hung on the broken figure sleeping on the bed and imagined what it had been like for you all these months. This gaunt thing was Frederick recovering. You were all alone when he was unconscious, his body an open wound, machines keeping him alive. Alone because Bryan was too selfish and cowardly to be near that kind of sickness. But he was here now, and the way your body clung to him, he knew it had been a long time since you had someone to comfort you.

***

“Right here in the hospital?” You quirked an eyebrow. Frederick had a private room in the burn ward, since his care was so intensive, but there was a constant stream of nurses in and out.

“Yes, here,” Frederick replied. “I want to see you.” A hungry spark entered his eye, and he sucked a quick breath to prevent his salivation from escaping.

Now that his plan was so close to fruition, excitement roiled in his stomach that he hadn’t felt in a long time. At first, calling Bryan was only meant as a gift for you. But suddenly, a familiar heat flared up in his belly, and he wanted to see—wanted to watch your eyes roll back as Bryan split you open.

“Don’t worry, we bribed the nurse supervisor not to disturb us,” Bryan added, hand on your lower back.

“Did you do as I instructed?”

The pressure in your ass seemed to increase as your mind was drawn back to it. “Yes,” you swallowed heavily. “I was wondering about that.” A plug kept your tight hole stretched and prepared, worn under your clothes, just as he had asked.

“Good.”

“So… you want to watch Bryan fuck me?” you purred, starting to get into the mood. You put your hands on the side of the bed and smirked down at Frederick, sticking your ass out for Bryan.

Before Frederick could answer, Bryan interrupted: “No.”

Frederick opened his mouth. You gave an equally confused look.

“I’m his dick-for-rent today,” Bryan chuckled, low and sultry. “Isn’t that right, Dr. Chilton? I’m going to fuck you for the doctor, since he can’t do it himself. Whatever way he wants.” He ran his palms over your shoulders and down your arms as if he were presenting you to Frederick as a gift.

Frederick nodded, not missing a beat as he pretended that was his plan all along, and not an unexpected act of charity from a man who seemed anything but charitable. When he woke to find the two of you conversing in hushed voices like a couple of dear old friends, he felt a sting of fear that Bryan was stealing you away.

So Bryan was going to let him be in charge? He liked the sound of that. After three months of bondage within his own skin, he liked the sound of that a lot.

***

“Pull it out slowly,” Chilton instructed.

Your ass spasmed around the flare of the plug as Bryan gradually removed it, and, under Chilton’s guidance, drizzled more lubricant over it.

“Push it in again. Fuck him with it a little.”

“Yes, doctor,” obeyed Bryan.

A guttural moan escaped your chest as he plunged it back inside, twisting it, fucking the lube back into your tight entrance. Your fingers clenched on the metal guardrail at the edge of the mattress.

“That’s right,” Chilton mumbled. “Good.” He raptly watched you bent above him, arousal building by the second.

He had never been more pleased with Bryan, following his instructions perfectly as he worked you open, first with the plug, then with his thick fingers.

“He’s dripping for you already,” Bryan said, drawing a finger through a bead of precum

He held the slick digit out to Chilton, and he extended his tongue to lick your essence off Bryan’s calloused pad. A familiar taste flooded his mouth.

“I missed the way you taste,” he moaned.

It had been too long since he sampled your arousal, and it pooled like heat in his stomach. Bryan’s breath shuddered at the sensation, or perhaps the monstrous sight of a tongue probing forth from bared teeth.

Finally, the thick, round head of Bryan’s cock was notched against your prepared opening. Fisting the base of his cock, he circled it lightly over your puckered ring, listening to the breathy whimpers it elicited.

“Take a deep breath, my love,” Chilton said. He held your eyes, steadying you with his gaze. “And let it out slowly.”

He nodded to Bryan, who rocked his pelvis forward little by little, stretching you open around his impossible girth. You gritted your teeth and tried to relax under the invasion, but it was no longer Chilton using Bryan to fuck you—Bryan was so much bigger than Frederick ever was, the illusion was shattered in that moment. No plug could prepare you for this. You wanted to squeeze Frederick’s fragile hand, but with the intense burn you were feeling, it might have shattered like glass.

“Shh. There you are. Good boy,” Frederick whispered, and even though you weren’t touching, it was like he was helping you. That soothing, soft, carefully-spoken voice caressed your ears. You felt your lower body relax, the muscles opening up for Bryan, allowing him to penetrate deeper, deeper. “You are doing so well for me.”

Your body surrendered with a heave of breath, allowing Bryan to slide in all the way until his balls were pressed against your ass. You were so full, it frightened you to move. Frederick saw how wide and wild your eyes were, the tremble in your limbs as you gripped the rail, and told Bryan not to move.

“Let him get used to you.” He added regretfully, “It has been a long time for both of us.”

“I’m never in a rush,” Bryan said. A powerful hand gently stroked the side of your face as he waited, stock-still with his cock buried inside you.

Slowly, you experimented with moving your hips. Grinding against him just slightly, you felt the way he filled your walls, stretched your entrance as he slid in the lubricant. It was so hot, so impossibly hard, but it made blood rush between your legs, your cock throbbing to be touched.

“F-Frederick… please, make him touch me,” you whimpered.

There was a flash of jealousy in his good eye for a fraction of a second. He wondered why you didn’t beg him to touch you, even though he knew he couldn’t. You might be able to ride his hand and let his fingers haphazardly twitch over your flesh, but he could never reach your cock from here.

At Chilton’s command, Bryan began stroking your heat, and soon your moans filled the sterile hospital room, drowning out the background hum of medical equipment. He guided Bryan in exactly how you liked to be touched, sharing the secrets of your body. Your lower half was on fire, screaming out for more until you were impaling yourself on Bryan’s length, hips bucking, indifferent to the pain.

Then Bryan began thrusting.

Chilton’s breath was heavy as he watched your chest heaving above him—bent over the edge of the bed so you were hovering above his face, giving him the perfect view as you were fucked brainless. Each swing of Bryan’s hips rocked you forward, your jaw slack, skin misted with a sheen of sweat.

His arms were too weak to reach up and touch you or to stroke his own cock, but he whispered words of encouragement that made your skin flush. “Good boy. You take his cock so well. That’s it… A touch faster,” he ordered, and the slap of Bryan’s skin against your ass quickened. You gurgled out a strangled moan as his cock hit a deeper spot.

“Good. Give him more. He can take it. Do you want more, dear?”

You closed your eyes as you nodded, throat too tight to form more than a strangled growl. It was almost too much—almost. But you wanted to take more for him. You wanted him to see you at your limit with Bryan rutting into you like a beast. Bryan stopped stroking your cock and fixed both hands to your hips like a vice, fingers bruising your flesh as he fucked you harder, drawing a cry with each brutal thrust.

Chilton’s cock stirred between his narrow thighs, envious of the pleasure just out of his reach.

“Kiss me,” he rasped.

You leaned over the railing and kissed his neck first, sloppy and unfocused, lavishing affection all over his skin. Down the side of his neck, over part of his shoulder exposed by the loose-fitting hospital gown, then up his jaw, your panting lips and tongue left a trail of saliva wherever they traveled.

Finally, he gasped softly as you found his toothy, exposed mouth. Your lips became its protection, replacing what was lost. He thought he would be scared—that insecurity and disturbing memories would surge to the surface—but for a beautiful moment in time, he was whole again. He had lips, and they were warm, and soft, and everything he missed. Then your tongue was exploring the smooth surface of his teeth, and his hungry tongue licked up to consume your muffled cries, inviting your sweetness deeper inside.

“Harder,” he groaned.

Your hand snaked around the back of his scorched-bald head and pulled him deeper against your mouth. Bryan obeyed the command, too, pounding you against the side of the bed until its locked wheels dragged scuff marks into the floor, and you were so breathless you almost collapsed on top of his fragile body.

Frederick’s mouth captured your wailing moans as Bryan’s massive cock nudged against a place impossibly far inside you. And suddenly, you were breaking—ropes of cum ruining the sheets, your ass spasming around Bryan’s cock. It hit you so fast, you were practically drooling into Frederick’s mouth, melting as he kissed you through your release. When you parted, a string of saliva connected your tongues. Bryan’s cock was still buried deep in your ass, but he paused to let the two of you catch your breath.

“Keep going,” Frederick nodded to him, and he thrust again.

An inhuman noise choked out of your lungs, your body exploding with overstimulation. Stuffed to its limit, and you wanted more. Frederick wanted more, too. He wanted to be more than a spectator, trapped inside a broken body.

Your searching hand groped low on the blanket until it found a satisfyingly hard bulge buried between Frederick’s legs. You lightly squeezed around it, and he gasped out.

“I want to suck your cock,” you moaned, voice thick with need.

He froze, both eyes wide, the green seemingly as blind as the pale blue one in its scarred socket. You were already throwing back the thin blanket. A tent strained in the center of his hospital gown.

“Please let me suck it?”

“I… There is a…” he hesitated. He wanted it so badly, but fear held him back. Mortification merged with lust in his face, the inflamed pink scar tissue nearly beet red.

You shifted to the foot of the bed and gently grasped his ankles, spreading his legs wide enough for you to crawl onto your belly between them. Bryan followed with you, slipping his cock back inside you, his legs pressed up against the edge of the bed, nested between yours. He smirked down at Frederick, giving a few lazy thrusts.

Frederick glanced between you and Bryan, then back to you, your lips so close to his touch-starved erection. Watching you get fucked turned him on, and he was desperate to feel your mouth, but he did not want Bryan to see it… what was beneath the gown.

You had been by his side since he was admitted, witnessing every embarassing medical treatment he endured. But how would Bryan react?

The nervous stammering Frederick gave as you lay between his thighs wasn’t a no, and you had a safeword if he needed to stop, but it wasn’t an enthusiastic yes, either. Considering the circumstances, you didn’t proceed any further, just rested there, searching his eyes with a gentle expression as Bryan smoothly rolled his hips in a holding pattern.

Somehow your willingness to wait made him feel safer. He was in control, Frederick reminded himself. Bryan was just his puppet today. What did it matter if he was disgusted?

“Suck it, then.” His voice was sure. Aloof, even. But it trembled with emotion churning just below the surface.

You pulled the medical gown up over his hips.

And there was his cock, standing partly erect, with all its rosy mesh texture. In a few months or years, the graft texture was supposed to fade into smooth skin, indistinguishable from the original, but right now, it looked like a fishing net of flesh had been pulled over it and sewn with a zig-zagging seam down the underside.

From the center of its tip snaked a long yellow catheter, the other end feeding into a urine collection bag strapped to his thigh like a gun holster.

You circled the meeting of the tube and his cock with your finger. He hissed, and it twitched. You pulled away and glanced up to his face. His jaw was hanging open, but with no lips or eyebrows, it was difficult to assess whether it was slack with lust or open in a silent scream.

“Did that hurt?”

“N-no. Oh god,” he groaned. His fingers dug into the sheets. They could not grip tightly, but his body shuddered with the attempt.

Frederick instructed you on how to take the catheter out. You had seen it inserted and vaguely understood the process, but fortunately, he had a medical degree and academic knowledge of the procedure (if not as much practice as a nurse).

“That syringe there will do,” he gestured with his chin and signaled when you found the right one.

Bryan pulled out and patiently assisted the scavenger hunt, though he was averting his eyes from the reconstructed thing between Frederick’s legs. It did not make Frederick feel appealing, but at least it was better than a sarcastic remark. Even a half-joking “you look like shit” comment would have made him crumble, and perhaps Bryan was skilled enough at exploiting vulnerabilities to recognize that.

“And bring the kidney dish. Yes, that one.”

After disposing of the half-full plastic bladder of warm yellow liquid, you brought the supplies over to the bed and sprawled back out between his legs. Bryan stood nervously behind you, kneading your ass cheeks in his large palms.

“There is a small inflated balloon holding the catheter inside my bladder, so it cannot slip out. You will need to deflate it first.”

“A balloon?” You tilted your head curiously. “How does it feel?”

Taking the end of the yellow rubber tube in your fingers, you gently pulled until you felt resistance, the tiny inflated ball pressed against the wall of his bladder at the entrance of the urethra. You twisted it slowly, rubbing the ball against the internal opening.

Frederick’s back wanted to arch, but he was helplessly immobile in his body, completely at the mercy of whatever you chose to do. He realized in that moment how vulnerable he truly was—that you could do anything, and he couldn’t escape or resist. He gasped out, but not in pain.

“You like that?”

His breath stuttered, but he couldn’t quite form a response. He didn’t know if he liked it. It felt strange. Not unpleasant. He felt full. On the threshold of torture, but something was thrilling about it—electricity sparked and built deep inside as you kept moving it.

You were barely touching the catheter anymore, only holding the end as you searched for the balloon port, but each tiny vibration made him whine softly.

“The orange cap. Use the… s-syringe… to… drain the…”

By the time you drained a few milliliters of water into the syringe, he was moaning loudly, incoherent.

Now when you pulled, there was no resistance to the tube sliding out. As you started to remove it, the deflated balloon passed over his prostate. You recognized it by the familiar whimper—the same stuttery, breathy cry he gave when you fingered him and found just the right spot. You stopped pulling and let it slide back in a little.

He choked, panting and begging, “P-please… please!” but wouldn’t tell you please what? Stop? Faster? More? Don’t?

In truth, he did not know. It burned, but it felt like stroking the shaft of his cock from the inside. It was humiliating—urine dripped from the end of the tube. He had no control over it. He felt so alive. So wanted for the first time in months of lying in that bed. The way your eyes lit up, your lips quirking at his every trembling breath. The way you whispered, “Easy. You’ve got this. Almost there.”

He was on the verge of coming when you pulled it the rest of the way out and set it aside in the tray. You gripped his cock firmly but gently, tilting it up to show Frederick the tip.

“Look at that. Your cock is gaping open like your asshole when Bryan fucks you,” you smirked. A bit of that rough, teasing quality entered your voice—an echo of the way you and Bryan used to use Frederick like your personal sex toy.

But you were going to be gentle today.

Extending your tongue, you laved over the head of his cock, soothing the stretched hole. Then all at once, your warm, wet mouth sank over his entire length, and he let out a shattered wail that was heard through the hospital wing.

Frederick went absolutely brain dead at that moment. His entire existence floated in a shimmering void with no up or down, no gravity. There was nothing but dizzying pleasure consuming his senses. Going without sex—and until recently, without touch—for so long made every sensation more intense than seemed possible. Your head bobbed up and down in his lap, lips wrapped around his cock, and waves of volcanic heat exploded up his vertebrae with each stroke. He still could not arch his back, jerk his hips into your mouth, or writhe beneath you. All of that frustrated kinetic energy came out in uncontrolled vocalizations. The nurses must have been bribed well to not come running at the hoarse, fevered cries.

His cock felt like a cock again, not some pathetic thing discarded after surgery. He couldn’t wait to come down your throat.

He almost didn’t notice Bryan was still standing there watching, obediently waiting.

“Fuck him,” Frederick managed to hiss.

A small pink smile flashed across Bryan’s lips as he nodded and leaned over you.

Your throaty groan vibrated around Frederick’s cock as Bryan pushed forward, gripping your ass to hold you still as he split you open again. He didn’t wait for you to adjust this time, doing just what Frederick had asked—he fucked you. Skin slapping skin echoed through the small room as you choked on Frederick’s cock, powerful thrusts pushing you forward and down.

Bryan sharpened your focus. You had started with your tongue languidly exploring the underside of his cock, flicking over the sensitive area beneath the crest of its head. Warm wetness traced along scars where stitches had been removed and the flesh was still raised, making his skin erupt in tingles. Now, you hollowed your cheeks and held on for the ride.

Continuous moans tore from Frederick’s throat, louder as you drove him toward his climax. He wanted to really fuck your mouth, control your pace, but he couldn’t even lift his arms.

As if reading his mind, Bryan’s large, veined hand ran down the length of your spine and settled possessively on the back of your neck. His eyes met Frederick’s, bushy grey brows raised in question.

The corner of Chilton’s mouth quirked—a tug of his cheek—and he nodded. “Yes… faster. Make him go faster.”

Bryan’s fingers snarled into your hair and pushed you down onto Frederick’s cock, then dragged you back up and shoved you down again. Frederick sighed in relief as you gagged on the head striking the back of your throat. He pretended it was his hand controlling you—savored the tears streaming from your eyes, the drool smearing your lips and pooling around the base of his cock. Most of all, he relished how willingly you took him—let him abuse your mouth for his pleasure. You were so eager.

Sensing that Frederick’s mind was gone on that last, desperate stretch toward release, Bryan took charge, setting a punishing pace as he fucked you harder and faster in time with the rhythm he was pumping your head. Bryan was a bit skeptical at first, but listening to you gag, he wished he could have a turn sucking Frederick off. But it was almost as good using your mouth like a masturbation sleeve to jerk him off.

“Take his cock like a good boy. Nice and sloppy,” Bryan growled. “Make him come, and don’t spill a drop. You swallow it all.”

Frederick moaned again. He was so close. Heat coiled in his lower body; his balls felt so heavy and tight, ready to burst.

Each time Bryan pulled you back, your tongue did this perfect little swirl, sometimes over the tip or under the crown of his cock. A sinful flourish before his heavy hand impaled your throat on Frederick’s throbbing length. He wouldn’t last much longer at this rate. Looking down at the both of you—Bryan’s face drawn in effort, sweating, and you beneath him, cheeks hollowed as your nose met Frederick’s scarred-bare pubic mound—he couldn’t help think he didn’t deserve you. Either of you. So devoted to him in his time of need. A maddening heat rose under his abdomen. He was going to… going to—

“C-come inside him. Come in his ass,” Frederick choked out. Saliva ran down his chin wantonly without lips to collect it. His eyes were barely open and rolling back in his head.

Bryan’s breathing grew erratic and turned to audible grunts as he chased his pleasure in your tight little hole. There was no restraint now—he mercilessly abused your ass and your mouth, creating a symphony of Chilton’s cries and your choked gagging. He wasn’t sure if you could take it—usually, it was Chilton he treated this way—but your walls were gripping around him, eagerly pleasuring his cock while your hips pushed back into his thrusts. You were just as needy a cockslut as your boyfriend.

The antiseptic air seemed to still for a moment, like the perfect silence that precedes a thunderclap. Bryan’s rutting hips hitched, then came crashing back down, sheathed to the hilt inside you as he sheathed your throat around Frederick, and in an instant, you were filled with hot cum from both ends. Frederick gave the small whimpering cries of a dying animal as his bitter release coated your tongue, salty, coppery, and thick. Bryan’s roar was that of an apex predator, your inner walls flooding with his seed.

A euphoric feeling settled over you. The feeling of being claimed, totally and completely, surrounded by two men you loved and trusted, knowing you brought them satisfaction.

You sucked Frederick through each twitching aftershock until there was nothing left to be milked from him, and his cries turned to uncomfortable sobs. Only then did your lips release him, shiny and red, and already softening.

Bryan, on the other hand, was hard as steel when he pulled out of you, and knowing his quick recovery time, ready to go again if need be. But that wouldn’t be advisable, considering the hospital staff would only look the other way for so long.

You quickly pulled your underwear back on, cringing at the squishy feeling of Bryan’s dripping cum being pressed into your skin. After returning Frederick’s legs to their usual closed position, you carefully crawled onto the edge of the mattress, avoiding the paths of tubes and wires attached to him, and gently cradled his prone body.

His breath was steadying, and his eyes were watery with emotion, coming down hard from his high. You surreptitiously brushed a tear away with your thumb. He wouldn’t want you to notice he was crying, but it would be worse if Bryan saw. So you held him, whispering soothing praises, and helped him calm down while Bryan cleaned himself up and made sure there were no stray fluids on the floor.

Then Bryan stood, once again unsure.

Where did he fit, with the bed too narrow for two people to cuddle on, much less three? Did he even want to join? Hospitals reminded him of death, and Frederick’s cadaverous figure made it worse. Fucking you with him was fun, but it felt like a last request—a favor for a dying man. Though as he understood it, Frederick had already beaten the odds and was going to survive, barring complications. But it still made him shudder.

He watched you smiling at him, gently whispering comfort with your arm so carefully draped around him, and watched his mutilated mouth try to smile back. Your eyes were transfixed on each other. Another pang throbbed through Bryan’s heart. He wanted to be part of that.

He took a step forward.

What if Frederick didn’t want him to be part of his lovey-dovey snuggle? It was stupid. Bryan was only here to fuck, anyway. It was what he was good at. Bryan Kneef didn’t do clingy emotional bullshit, and this was way too fucking Hallmark right now.

He took a step toward the door. It was roughly in the same direction. The last thing Bryan Kneef wanted was to appear indecisive.

But before he could pass the foot of the bed and lock his trajectory toward leaving, Frederick’s eyes shot open and froze him. He repressed another shudder, still freaked out by his ghostly blue eye.

“Thank you,” he said. His face was unreadable (there were not enough features left to read), but his voice had a hopeful edge.

“My pleasure.” A surprisingly uncomplicated reply. It didn’t seem the time for tacky vulgarity.

You looked up at him, too, and the combined forces of your puppy-dog gazes broke his resolve. He pivoted away from the door and pulled up a chair beside the bed so he could lean close, resting his head against your warm shoulder and gently stroking Frederick’s withered arm.

Frederick hummed contentedly at the contact, and he let out a long breath he didn’t realize he had been holding.

• ● • ━━━━━─ ••●•• ─━━━━━ • ● •

Tags: @beccabarba / @itsjustmyfantasyroom / @thatesqcrush / @dianilaws / @permanentlydizzy / @mrsrafaelbarba / @madamsnape921 / @astrangegirlsmind / @neely1177 / @onerestein / @dreamlover31 / @isvvc-pvscvl  / @shroomiehomie / @storiesofsvu / @welcometothemxdhouse / @feedthemadness-sweetie / @law-nerd105 / @amelia-song-pond / @michael-rooker / @xecq / @madpanda75 / @alwaysachorusgirl / @bananas-pajamas / @leanor-min / @mad-girl-without-a-box / @katierpblogg / @worldofvixen / @sassyada / @detectivebarba​

[notfckincool]

DIRTY GIRL CHAPTER 7 - LUCKY FUCKIN DAY

NEGAN X ANA (OC)

Ana embarks on a casual but obviously filthy affair with Negan, accidentally falling for the man, knowing he will never love her.

Angst and Kinky fuckery. Its Negan so expect swearing and strong sexual content throughout

CHAPTER 7- LUCKY FUCKIN DAY

NEGAN X ANA(OC)

SUMMARY: Busy life at the Sanctuary and Negan's new 'no shagging on the job' rule, means they've not been together for a while.

WARNING:🔞 swearing, Negan being Negan (ie: an asshole) usual dirty talk, f/f/m, mild humiliation, fingering, voyeurism, pussy spanking, masturbation, oral, facial (gotta be honest, this is pure filth)

It''s a big one, hahaha. I enjoyed writing from Negan's point of view and got a bit carried away.

Negan stands, Lucille nestled on his shoulder, proudly surveying his jubilant saviors on their return home.

The Sanctuary....His castle....The community HE built, from the shit storm of epic proportions, that left the remainder of the human race fighting for survival. Everyone here a cog in the well oiled machine, with a mission to save as many unfortunate souls as possible....And...bring some kind of fucking civilisation back to humanity. The Saviors...These men and women, these fucking magnificent soldiers, were the key to its success, the last line of defence for HIS citizens. His own personal army, a force to be reckoned with. They were a bunch of quarrelling fuckwits and murdery fucking hoodlums before he took this place. He made them what they are today. He gave them structure, rules, purpose. He made them strong. Look at them now.

As trucks are unloaded the mood is jovial. Today had been another productive damn day. There would be celebrations this evening. Rightly so. Fuck it, he's in a great mood, everyone gets extra vegetables at dinner, they deserved it.

Heading inside the large canteen, they are rewarded with good food and bottles of liquor. He watches over his people, observes their hearty laughter, loud banter, and congratulatory patting of backs. His eyes scan the room.

He leans back against the wall as his eyes rest on Ana. She's sat at a long table with Simon, a few of the other higher ranking warriors, and....that girl she always seems to be hanging with these days. He lowers Lucille to rest casually by his side. She'd done well, he'd known she would, and, she'd finally even got Simon's approval. Simon was right though, fucking her while on Savior business had been a mistake. While they were working EVERYONE needed to be focused. He didn't want to lose any one over some emotional shit, or by getting eaten on the job, so to speak. They'd had to cool it. Maybe they could get together when they both had free time, but with missions, meetings, and wives, it hadn't happened. A shame. It had been fun.

Sighing heavily he watches her as she laughs a full belly laugh, her head thrown back. She looks really fucking happy. As rare as rocking horse shit these days. It makes him smile.....briefly. His eyes fixate on Simon's hand patting her thigh, resting a little too long for his liking. He shifts uneasily from the wall, his jaw clenching, hand tightening momentarily around Lucille. The fucking fuck? His brow sets in a deep frown.

Ok..ok..calm your tits.....

It's probably just his imagination, but he might need to keep a fucking eye on that. Tearing his eyes away he looks down at the floor, inhaling deeply, rubbing his forehead, and trying to relax his jaw as he looks back over in Ana's direction.

The girls are now sharing a conversation that he can't hear. They move in closer to each other, real fucking close. Huh?

Cheering erupts. A drinking game has begun and a bottle of tequila is being passed around the table. The merriment continues, tables are banged enthusiastically, and numerous shots are knocked back. He shakes his head at his bunch of roguish fucking idiots.

There it was again. A touch of the girl's thigh. A firm squeeze. No mistaking. This time stroking higher, leaning right in. His brow arches as Ana kisses her, playfully nibbling at the girls lips. Tangling her fingers in the long tresses she pulls her in for a firmer kiss. Jeering breaks out.

"Get a fucking room you two"

Something is tossed across the table hitting Ana on the head. Breaking the kiss she tosses it back, laughing and giving them the middle finger. Jesus fucking Christ, sometimes It's like being at fucking high school with these morons. His attention is drawn back to the two women as they stand from the table.

So how long has this been going on?

She looks up. Her eyes meeting his. Hmmm.... Did she know he was there? Did she know he'd been watching? Neither looks away, locked in an unwavering stare as he tries to read her. A small smile plays at her lips as she whispers something in the girls ear before grabbing her hand and leading her hastily from the canteen.

Swinging lucille by his side, he takes a moment to process, pulls himself from the wall, bat on shoulder, and heads out into the corridor.

***

Turning the corner, towards Ana's room, the girl is pinned to the wall in a passionate kiss, a sense of urgency as she fumbles with the key in the lock. The door swings open. They tumble in. He saunters towards them, observing a moment before tapping loudly on the door with Lucille. When Ana spins around he studies her, his eyes narrowing, Lucille swinging gently by his side.

"Hi" he grins, taking a step forward into Ana's room.

"Hi" She moves protectively in front of her 'friend'

"Sorry to interrupt....." The grin fades as he peers around Ana for a better view of the girl. He's seen her around. Someone new Simon had recruited and trained, name escapes him though. Never really took much notice of her before. He looks her over. Similar to Ana in age, probably. Looks pretty badass, sweet though. Not bad. He definitely would. Flashes her one of his irresistible smiles. She seems to be struggling to maintain eye contact with him. He revels in the long awkward pause.

"...and you are?"

The girl swallows audibly and opens her mouth, but no words come out. He chuckles maintaining his stare. Ana glances over her shoulder looking quizzically at the suddenly dumb struck girl, shaking her head at her.

"This is Lily."

"Hey there Lily. Nice to finally meet you." He doesn't offer his hand, instead he twirls Lucille in his fingers, his tongue creeping out between his teeth. He can't resist looking her up and down again with a smirk. Immediately she blushes and looks down at the floor to hide her burning cheeks. That's cute. He chuckles.

"Not much of a talker huh?" Her eyes still glued to the floor he turns his attention back to Ana.

"Is she ok?" he mouths silently

"What do you want Negan?"

"You really have to ask? Ana, you know what I want." Placing lucille against the wall he takes another step closer, leaning into her space. Lily shrinks away behind Ana.

"No Negan, I dont." Her eyes search his "I dont know what you want from me"

"Yes...you fucking do" Lowering his face towards hers, he takes her by the hips. Lily shuffles uncomfortably while Ana holds his gaze.

"Oh, so you think you can just drop in whenever you feel like it, without an invitation"

"Oh girl, dont give me that shit. You know goddamn well I dont need an invitation. This is my place, I can do whatever the fuck I want" his thumb traces along her jaw

"What about what I want? ....What exactly are we doing here?"

"What do you wanna be doing?" He chuckles "This was your fucking idea. 'Why dont we come up with another arrangement', you said. I fucking remember it. Very fucking clearly." His thumb brushes over her lips "right before before you put my dick in that pretty little mouth of yours"

"That doesn't mean you can just call by whenever it suits you"

"That is EXACTLY what it means." He withdraws his hand " I gave you a choice. This is what you chose"

"Well, Im not just gonna sit here waiting for you" she smiles pulling Lily to her side.

"Yeah, I can see that" he glances over at Lily

"Look, I'm a big girl, I can make my own decisions, and I made my choice. I'm NOT one of your wives remember" leaning into Lily she kisses her softly.

"Thank fuck for that, you'd drive me nuts" His eyes linger over the kiss "So this is what you get up to when I'm not around"

"Mhm. What did you expect? I got needs you know." The woman's lips part for Ana "...So if you dont mind...." she mumbles through the kiss

"I don't mind at all". He interrupts " I'm enjoying the fucking show, dont stop on my account"

".....If you don't mind" she continues "I'm quite busy, so you can shut the door on your way out"

Arching a brow he watches the girls, their tongues exploring each others mouths. His grip on her hips tightens, pushing himself against her so she can feel him hardening.

"Hahaha. Ya missed me right? I can read you like a goddamn book......Ok you got my attention, got me over here......with the TWO of you. I see what you're doing here." taking her by the chin he pulls her face to look in his eyes. "Yeah...." he smirks "....you missed me"

"Maybe....Maybe not" she swipes his hand away

"Maybe...maybe not" he mocks "Why you always got to be so damned difficult all the time? Fuck, you're infuriating. See..... I'm hearing the words coming out of your mouth, but your eyes are saying 'fuck me Negan' ......." he shrugs off his jacket

"Wow! You really are an arrogant fucker"

"....Fuck me, AND my horny friend" he continues "Am I right? Hahaha. I know what you want, and how you want it. I know what kinkyfuckery runs through your dirty mind"

"You absolutely sure about that" she retorts "Maybe...I actually didn't miss you, or your dick. Maybe...you're wrong." She smirks at him as she peels off her shirt

"Now I KNOW you're fucking lying" his tone no longer as playful. "Enough fucking teasing now. I told you before, don't play fucking games with me princess"

"And I told you before, don't call me princess" roughly she pulls lily towards her, pulling her shirt up over her head and tossing it to the floor "I dont need your permission to fuck someone else. You don't own me"

Taking Lily's face in her hands she kisses her passionately. Releasing her hips he grabs a handful of Ana's hair, tugging her head back, prising the girls apart.

"I said that's enough. Have you forgotten who's in charge around here?" He says into her ear, his voice stern, delivering a hard sharp slap to her ass "Have you forgotten who your dealing with?" Another rough tug makes her wince. "The Sanctuary is mine. The Saviors, ..are mine. You....Are mine."

Lily cautiously takes a couple of steps back, Ana chuckles triumphantly.

"There's my Negan. You know I like that. she bites her lip " I love it when he gets mad, Lily. We like to play rough. This is just our foreplay" she chuckles again. "Still wanna fuck him?"

"Well?" His eyes burn into Lily's "Do ya? You wanna be my dirty girl too? " He smirks darkly "then it looks like it's your lucky fucking day.....if you think you're up to it" he unfastens Ana's jeans "...Choice is yours sweetheart, nobody's forcing you to do anything you don't want to do." Still holding Ana's hair in a vice like grip he tugs her jeans down to her hips. "Stay,.. or leave, it's up to you...but it's now or fucking never Lily" he palms Ana's ass "...Gonna need an answer. Are you staying?"

Lily chews thoughtfully on her bottom lip and nods

"Then be a fuckin doll and shut the door"

Negan's eyes follow Lily as she closes the door and leans her back against it. 

"Well, Ana, would you look at that. Lily does as she's told, unlike some people I know" his hand rubs across her stomach down towards her panties as he presses his swelling dick against her, eyes still locked on Lily.

"That's because she's a good girl Negan."

"Is that fucking so?" His stare unmoving, deliberately disarming her "wanna play a game of good girl / bad girl?" He smirks as he teases Ana, thumbing over her panties. "Ana is the bad girl obviously, but you've clearly spent some time together so I guess you know that already" Ana squirms as his thumb toys with her clit. "Speak up. Don't be shy. Can't be shy around my Ana"

"I'm not your Ana" 

"You fucking sure about that?"

He pulls her hair hard, tipping back her head, exposing her neck to him. Grazing her with his teeth, nipping at her skin, he raises his eyes to look at Lily from under heavy lids. Ana moans softly and reaches behind her rubbing his hardening length through his jeans. 

"So.....You just gonna stand there?" 

Lily's eyes follow his hand as it slides into Ana's panties. 

"Oh. You like to watch huh? We can put on a show for you if that's your thing" He really didn't mind that at all. He rubs down Ana's folds "Any requests? What freaky weird shit you into?" He grins as he circles Ana's clit. "We're pretty fucking comfortable with anything." Deciding the girl was probably not gonna move from the door he ignores her turning his attention back to Ana's neck, biting up to her ear lobe. 

"So fucking wet…" his voice is low in her ear, his grip tight on her hair  "Such a bad girl. Don't ever question whether you are mine, you understand me? You..are mine. This pussy..is mine" He delivers a sharp spank to her clit before plunging two fingers inside her. 

"Yeah, you like that, huh? That's why you' misbehave. You want me to fucking punish you"  He withdraws his fingers, hand poised for another slap. He knew this was what she wanted all along, playing her fucking games. "Dirty little slut, you fucking love it. You want me to spank that aching wet pussy…." He delivers another slap.

He feels her shaking, her face contorting in pleasure as he 'punishes' her relentlessly. Panting, gasping and quivering, as he alternates circling her, slapping her and finger fucking her, until her breathing quickens and she starts to squirm

"You're close right? You wanna cum so bad...my filthy girl. Should I let you? Can you fuckin behave?" 

"Yes... yes... please" she gasps

"Yeah, that's what I thought. Not so fucking cocky now, are you. You're fucking mine, and don't you ever forget it." He knew what she liked, how she wanted to be touched. He circles her clit rapidly, she shakes and bucks. "You can cum for me now" 

He bites down on her neck spreading her folds and pressing on her overstimulated clit. She shudders and arches backwards into him releasing a loud moan. Lily stays back up against the door as Ana unravels in front of her. He holds her tight plunging his fingers back inside her as she contracts and writhes against him. Fucking her through her orgasm, prolonging it.

"That's right, see, you can be a good girl"

Her knees buckle, he holds her firmly as she comes back down and regains some composure. Removing his glistening fingers, he sucks them clean.

"Mmm mmm" he smacks his lips, then beckons lily over. Let's see how much of a good girl she really is.

"Take off those jeans" he commands, his eyes wandering over her as she obediently pulls them down and kicks them aside. As Ana calms, he releases her stripping off his shirt to reveal his slim toned body. He sees Lily admiring him, puffs out his chest, smirks with his tongue brushing over his bottom lip. Yeah this is gonna be fun.

"Now get on your fucking knees.." he unbuckles his belt

".....both of you"

Ana turns to look up at him, eyes heavy with lust, and lowers herself to her knees, Lily willingly drops down beside her. He looks down at them, taking them both by the chin. 

"Open wide ladies" 

He smirks as he pulls down his jeans and boxers, his fully erect cock springing free. Lily's eyes widen as she watches him wrap his hand around the base. He chuckles to himself and smiles down at Ana. Full of fuckin attitude a few minutes ago, now look at her, mouth open, waiting for him.

"Look at you two, both begging for daddy's cock." 

He offers Ana the tip, she sticks out her tongue, needily salivating, ugh that's what he likes to see. He taps it, teasing her, trailing around her lips. 

"That's it princess, I know how much you want it"

Looking up at him she takes a lick of his tip and wets him with gentle sucks, dips to kiss down his shaft and a long flat tongued lick up the underneath from balls back up to tip, exploring over the slit and around the rim, toying with the sensitive area before taking him in her mouth, lowering herself, sucking and rippling her tongue as his fist steadily pumps his shaft. He lets out a groan, chews on his bottom lip. 

"Good girl."

Removing his hand he takes her head sliding her down lower, hitting her throat and briefly pausing as her well trained gag reflex allows him to inch down further, watching his own cock disappearing inside her until he bottoms out. Her throat constricts around him. He hisses willing his self control to hold her still. He wanted to fuck her mouth hard, hang her head over the end of the bed pin her down and throat fuck her, watch his cock moving up and down inside her neck….but not today. He has another girl waiting eagerly and he's not sure what she can handle. He sucks in air and grits his teeth, releasing her. Withdrawing she gasps for air, eyes watering, saliva pooled and dripping. He wipes her chin, she smiles up at him.

"Thank you, daddy" 

He smirks down at her as she dips and lowers, licking at his balls as he offers his throbbing cock to Lily.

"Damn fuckin right princess. You lucky girls. I am horny as fuck and hard as fuckin steel right now. You sure this is what you want sweet cheeks?" she looks from his eyes to his cock, swallowing audibly and nods.

"Then suck it doll" 

She takes him hungrily in her mouth. He wants to close his eyes and focus on the sensation, but he's got two girls attached to his cock and balls right now and he's enjoying watching them licking and sucking enthusiastically. Tongues battling over him. Lips finding each other, slobbering wet kisses between them and his rock hard cock. Clenches his jaw as Ana's hands wander across Lily's breasts and down towards her soaking cunt. He decides it's time for a little girl on girl action and guides them to the bed.

"Time for you two to put on a show for daddy"

Stroking himself, he watches as they passionately kiss, bras are unclipped and panties are ripped off and cast aside, playful wrestling and Ana eventually pinning down her friend and working her way down her girlfriend's body with nibbles and kisses. 

Wishing he'd had the forethought to bring along his video camera, he squeezes himself as she holds her thighs apart, exploring her pussy, tongue caressing, tasting and flicking until Lily finally arches and bucks. 

"Fuckin hell ladies, quite a fuckin show. Now if you dont mind, and I know you fuckin don't, I'm just gonna jump in before I blow my fucking load"

He chuckles as he joins them on the bed, congratulating himself on his amazing self control and stamina, bringing them both earth shattering orgasms as he thrust into them both powerfully. What a fuckin day! A massive victory for the Saviours and ending in fucking two beautiful women at the same time. Satisfied his enormous ego, and cock, have been suitably massaged, he stands.

"Fuck ladies!" 

Pumping himself in his fist, his head thrown back, he's ready to let go.

"Oh fuck I'm gonna cum….You want daddy's cum?"

"Yes, please" they kneel before him

"Let me hear you fuckin beg"

"Give it to us daddy…. give us your cum….pleeaaase"

"That's my good girls, Fuck, fuck, urggghh….jesus fuck"

He groans, shakes and stills, spurting in ropes across their faces. Looking down panting, a satisfied smirk on his face as he watches them greedily licking at his cock and each other, milking him of every drop.

Finally eyes closed, head relaxed back, he breathes deeply and composes himself.

"God fucking damn! That was a stressful day. I fuckin needed that"

Flopping onto his back on the bed he pulls them both into a hug, kissing the tops of their heads.

"My dirty fuckin girls, you are both fuckin filthy, you know that? he chuckles, holding them there quietly for a while…. but he's not much of a cuddler and the silence is killing him.

" I knew you missed my cock" he says to Ana laughing 

 "....Maybe I don't miss your dick" he mocks "...I can fuck who I want…. don't call me princess... blah blah fucking blah. I swear to god woman, you ever talk to me like that again I'll spank you so fuckin hard" he chuckles giving her a playful slap to the ass.

"Is that a promise?" She laughs, kissing his chest. 

OK that's enough. Time to crack on.

"Well, no rest for the fuckin wicked. Cuddle time is officially fuckin over. Shit to do, this place don't run it's fuckin self"

He hoists himself up collecting the clothes from the floor and tossing the girls theirs.

"Well it was lovely meeting you, Lily" he chuckles glancing over at her as he pulls on his boxers and jeans. She smiles up at him admiring his shirtless physique.

"So..." Lily ventures "What happens now?" 

Ana raises her brows and dresses silently.

"What do you mean?" He pulls on his boots. 

"Um...us?" She looks from one to the other "What happens now with us?"

Ana and Negan exchange glances, he pulls on his shirt, his brow furrowed.

"Wow, quiet little girl just found her voice? Um...Nothing….There is no us" he turns and looks for his jacket. "Look darlin, nothing is fuckin happening here. It was just a casual fuck that's all...a bit of fun" he picks it up, pulling it on "I thought you knew that"

"But ....I thought maybe we could...you know ....have an arrangement."

Ana grabs her cigarettes and rolls her eyes at Negan.

"I'm going for a smoke. I'll leave you two love birds to it"

Negan turns to Lily with a frown.

"Whoah! Let me stop you right there, sweet cheeks. You wanted this. You got it. Your lucky fucking day. I'm very happy for you. 'Today was the day I fucked Negan' you can write it in your journal and tell all your friends.." he laughs at his own joke "...but that's it, there isn't, nor will ever be, a fuckin 'arrangement' " he air quotes with a smile and his trademark lean. 

"Oh...I thought…." Lily looks away, lip quivering.

Shit! She's being fuckin serious. What the fuck? Shutting that shit right down, immediately. 

"You thought what? That we were in love now, we'll be skipping hand in hand through the fuckin meadows? Look, dont get your titties in a twist sweetheart, it's just a fuck. You've had casual sex before right?"

He heads towards the door 

"...Or are you one of those crazy obsessive stalker types? He picks up Lucille  "…..Should I be fuckin worried?"

Lily's eyes fill with tears.

"Such an asshole." Ana shakes her head at him as she brushes passed. 

"Tell me something I don't fuckin know." 

He groans and rubs his forehead 

"Ok. Ok. For fucks sake, I'm joking….jeezuus.. Some people got no sense of fucking humour….C'mon, don't go getting all emotional on me,....I'm just busting your lady nuts. Look... I'm a busy guy. I got this place to run, several wives to entertain, I got a lot on my mind, I just don't have the fuckin time...." 

He backs out the door. 

"Don't take it personal.....I'll ..um....see you around." He shakes his head " fucks sake" he mumbles under his breath as he hurriedly leaves.

***

MASTERLIST

TAGS:

@chloejanedecker1 @negan-love @bychrissi @nayghtynegan @negans-attagirl

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in new chapters

[thirsty-x1]

Surprise Bet | Cho Seungyoun

Request:

i want to request an scenario where you and seungyoun have been frienda for a while and any time you can you have intense make out sessions, finally you can hook up (and you have been horny since the day 1 you met him😭) and when you see his gun tattoo you decide to kiss it an lick it and that makes you even hotter. After that you can add whatever you want, thank you💕

↬ Pairing: Seungyoun x fem!reader

↬ Genre: Smut

↬ Warnings: explicit language, a whole lot of dirty talking, fingering, oral sex (bj), unprotected sex.

↬ Word Count: 2k

The music from your playlist was loud, filling Seungyoun’s room as you were laying in his bed, waiting for him to come back home from his rehearsal. Your head moved to the beat, the sweater paws bothering you every now and then when its sleeves covered your fingers. As the song ended, the door opened, a messy looking Seungyoun appearing and smiling when seeing you in his clothes.

“Wasn’t expecting to find you here.” He let his bag on the floor, taking off his shirt and throwing it to the floor before walking to the bathroom and turning on the water for the shower.

“I was bored so thought I would come by.” You eyed him, stopping on the gun tattoo he had on his low right side. “New tattoo?”

“I got it a few months ago but you haven’t seen me naked lately.” The adverb made your cheeks flush a slight tone of pink.

“Mario Kart after you shower?” Changing the conversation topic quickly, you came up with a brilliant idea.

“Sometimes I feel like you only want me for my console.”

“You are not wrong.” He simply chuckled as he turned around and went to the bathroom.

While he showered, you turned on the console and started to play as if to practice: he could beat your ass in a second and there was something you had been wanting to propose. Since it was him, a game made things way more interesting and he would definitely give in to a little fun. After a few minutes he got out with just his underwear and an oversized white tee, and jumped on the bed, a few drops of his wet hair falling on your face as you laughed and pushed him. He laid down on his stomach, straightening his arm to grab the other controller and giving you a playful grin.

“What is your bet today?” He popped the usual question while choosing his favorite set.

“How about we play a surprise one?”

“Are you really going to make me wait until we see who wins to tell me? How will I know if I have to try hard or just let you win?” You shoved him and he laughed.

“Just know that it’s something I really want.”

“Oh then I have to win, I’ll get to see you pout and all.”

Rolling your eyes at his comment, you started the game. Seungyoun could seem laid back and all, but he could be the most competitive person ever. Merciless, that was probably the best way to put it. His laugh filled the room whenever he threw a blue shell at you, even if you weren’t close or in front of him. Usually, both of you did the best out of three and as he won the second match, his small celebration ceremony started. It basically consisted in him making weird faces while you just tried to hold back your frustration.

“You know what? You lose, it was something that you would have liked as well.” Your words caught his attention and he calmed down immediately, a curious glint in his eyes as he got closer to you.

“What was it? I can consider giving you the win if it’s good enough.”

“I’m not going to tell you. For being a dumb ass.” His eyes squinted and he slouched on the bed, using his quivering lip against you. “That’s not going to work.”

He let out a soft huff before moving quickly and straddling you under him, both of your hands pinned against the bed as he immobilized you. His gaze was burning, his lips getting nearer only to miss yours and whisper in your ear.

“Then maybe I can try to make you speak in some other way.”

Not even a second after, he was kissing you roughly, biting down on your bottom lip before sliding his tongue into your mouth, letting out a throaty hum as you replied. As if to get him back, you started grinding your hips against his, a choked out moan slipping past his lips. Struggling, you tried to free yourself from his grip, your fingers tingling with the need to touch him, but his eyes were fixated on you, his hands putting more strength.

“Just let me–”

“Tell me what you want.” His tone was serious, but there was anxiousness on his face. “Tell me what the surprise bet was.”

He knew it. He somehow knew it, you could read it on his expression, but still wanted you to ask him for it. It didn’t surprise you, he had been like that since forever, just like when you two had started with this whole making out thing. Both of you could feel the sexual tension back then, both of you were drunk enough to pretend nothing had happened the next day if it didn’t work out, both of you wanted it to happen, but Seungyoun had made you say it. He didn’t make a move until you were begging for him to kiss you, even if you tried to avoid his questions with actions, he wanted to hear your words, and now it was exactly like that one time.

“If I won, I wanted us to…” He nodded, encouraging you to keep going but all of his actions stopped, leaving you with no excuses. “Fuck.”

A huge smile spread on his face, a slight blush on his face that he quickly hid by burying in your neck and painting it with hickeys. His hands left your wrists and brushed up your thighs, undoing your shorts and taking them off, hissing when you tugged on his hair, flipping both of you until being on top of him. You could feel him getting hard, your nails scratching softly on the skin of his chest and abdomen leaving red marks that sent shivers down his spine. Next, you kissed the lines, traveling down until reaching his newest tattoo, licking it deliberately slow while making eye contact with him. He bucked his hips upwards and you pinned them down, placing open mouthed kisses that followed the direction of the ink before continuing, one of your hands coming up to palm him.

“Don’t tease me, baby.” He was breathing heavily, and even if his words said something, his hazy stare wasn’t complaining at all.

“You should have let me win.”

Your mouth was on him but not in the way he wanted, the fabric impeding to feel your lips directly on his dick. Seungyoun let out a low grunt when you stick out your tongue right on his tip, licking the precum staining his underwear. He was twitching already and you chuckled, finally pulling his member out of its confinements and sucking it, teasing the underside of the tip, the moans you had been wanting to hear since the beginning starting to get louder. His fingers tangled in your hair, not doing anything more than just help you by taking the few strands out of the way, his head falling back when you deep throated him, gently gagging, that being the last straw for him to bring you up. His free hand made its way to your panties, smiling when he felt your wetness.

“You got this wet from sucking me off? Naughty.” You were about to reply when he inserted two fingers inside of you without a warning, cutting you off. “What were you going to say? Couldn’t quite catch it.” He kept fingering you, enjoying that you can’t even talk.

“Please, just fuck me already.” He shook his head, but there was no denying that he wanted to do it.

“When I get inside here, I want you to crumble… I want you to be so sensitive that you can’t even think straight.” You clenched and his fingers curled, his thumb rubbing your clit. “Hm? It looks like you like it when I talk to you like this.”

“S-Stop teasing me…”

“But I want you to cum like this, just from having this hole fucked with my fingers.” You whined at his words, resting your forehead against his as you felt the knot in your lower stomach forming. “Give in, baby, you will never win.”

Even if you wanted to get mad at him or at least tell him otherwise, you couldn’t: your orgasm washed over your whole body, nothing more than a few whines leaving your lips. When you recovered, his fingers were on his mouth, his eyes fixed on you as he tasted your juices. He got rid of his underwear and you did the same, straddling him and wasting no time in aligning your entrance with his hardness, both sighing at the friction when you slid it in.

You started to ride him, closing your eyes and just focusing on the way he felt inside of you. Seungyoun, on the other hand, was absorbed in admiring you: your hair sticking to the side of your face, the way his sweater looked on you, the small sounds of skin smacking when you slightly raised your hips and came down to meet his, your thumb softly caressing his tattoo.

“You have no idea for how long I’ve been wanting to have you like this.” His words broke your concentration and he took advantage of it, turning you both around until he was on top of you. “So needy for me…” He suddenly pulled off, smiling at your whimper. “Beg me.”

“I’m going to kill you.” He laughed at the way your voice broke. “Please, Seungyoun, fuck m–!” You couldn’t even finish the sentence and he had already shoved himself deep inside of you, ripping a scream from the depths of your throat.

“So tight… I might end up filling you whole.” You couldn’t help but to tighten up around him when he said those words, evoking a groan from him. “Are you so turned on at the idea of me cumming inside of you? Spilling into this tight cunt of yours?”

“Shut up already.” You tugged on his hair, pulling him closer and kissing him, just to bring a little bit of silence, the way he talked having way too much power over you. He smiled against your lips before whispering in your ear.

“You know what the funny thing is? Fucking you was my surprise bet too.”

Your heart jolted at his sudden confession, your second orgasm hitting you stronger than the first one and not too long after he stayed still, buried deep inside as you felt his warm liquid being poured into you. None of you moved, just breathing heavily and trying to catch a break. After a few minutes, Seungyoun finally pulled away, laughing when his cum flowed out of you and grabbing the towel he had used before to clean you up before throwing you one of his boxers and getting another one for him. As he laid beside you, he looked down on the marks you had left on his chest, and let out a laugh seeing his gun tattoo covered in hickeys.

“Did you like it that much?” His arms hugged you, his eyes already closing while he had a proud smirk on his face.

“It was pretty hot.” You snuggled closer to his touch, his warmth surrounding you and making you feel sleepy.

“It was a nice surprise.”

Next thing that was heard was his complaint when you slightly punched him for his bad joke, both giggling and drifting off to sleep.

What a cocky little shit he is. I love him. Also I suck at giving decent endings oops.

~Nani

unedited

[werejusttouchingeachother]

Ouija

Words: 6160

Genre: smut (m), slight horror

You kick the door to your small apartment open, leaning against it with your back so as to enter since your hands are holding up the cardboard box of all your supplies.

You’d honestly laughed when you’d seen it as you knew there weren’t enough belongings in that office to fill up the entire box but you still accepted it anyway.

It had only been seven months and today when you’d been called to your supervisor’s office today morning, you’d been foolish enough to think that it was to congratulate you on meeting your sales target for the month before it even ended.

What you’d been greeted with was an apology and a letter.

And of course, the cardboard box.

You sighed as you sat the box down onto your table atop the due bills and letters that had slowly grown into a heap on your coffee table as you sat down heavily on your couch with a sigh.

You leaned your head back over the armrest as you closed your eyes, briefly wondering about the time since your apartment was already plunged in darkness. You knew you couldn’t be alone for too long—not without overthinking and falling into a state where you couldn’t leave your bed for days.

The way you had seven months ago, on a similar night like this, when you’d been fired from your previous job. That was an entirely different kind of low because a lot of things had fallen apart at the same time—you’d just found out your boyfriend of four years had been cheating on you and had broken up with him, your landlord had just threatened to kick you out if you kept delaying the payment of the rent and to top it all off, you had just gotten fired.

Which was when you decided to try a little game from your childhood.

You hadn’t expected it to work. No one would believe you (if you ever told it to them, that is) but you honestly hadn’t expected it to work. It certainly hadn’t worked in fourth grade when you’d first tried it with your friends at a sleepover.

At least, you don’t think it had.

The idea had struck you as you were cleaning out your old place to move to the cheaper apartment that you currently stayed at. Your friend had just sent you a photo of the boyfriend that you had just dumped—happily smiling with the girl who he had been fucking behind your back.

It had got your blood boiling as you started carelessly shoving boxes around the new apartment while you settled in at the new place. The Ouija board had fallen out of an old box of yellowing books, hitting the floor with a soft thud.

You were at a low, you needed a distraction—albeit a seemingly childish one. You hadn’t been thinking of anything as you went through the ritual, murmuring the incantations that you’d passed off as silly while moving the green triangular planchette mindlessly around the board.

When you’d asked in a bored tone, ‘Is anyone here?’ the planchette had flown across the board to the ‘YES’ sign at the top-left corner. You’d frozen and felt your blood run cold as all thoughts had stopped in your head.

And then you’d looked up and screamed.

That’s how you’d met Kāi.

Maybe ‘met’ isn’t the right word since you’d technically summoned him. You’d only been able to mumble something akin to asking him who he was.

“Kāi,” he had responded, his husky voice taking you by surprise as you stared in shock. “I’m an incubus.”

“A what?” You’d paused, thinking and suddenly growing wary. “Do you… do you mean those demons who sleep with human women?”

“Did you expect an angel when you played around with an Ouija board?” He’d rolled his eyes as he shook his green hair slightly. He didn’t look human nor did he look like what you pictured a demon to look like.

But one thing was for certain: he was the sexiest creature you’d ever seen.

Almost as if he had heard your thoughts, Kāi smirked dangerously as he’d leaned forward until his face was mere inches away from yours, warm breath fanning your cheeks.

“Do you know why I’m here?” He asked, his voice an octave lower in a low husky rumble that made your stomach twist.

You’d blinked, unable to form a coherent response and he’d raised his hand to lift your chin with a finger as he muttered lowly, “Because you called me. You wished for someone to ruin you and I heard your wish.”

Your breath had hitched in your throat, eyes involuntarily fixated on his luscious pink lips.

You didn’t respond to him but you knew he wasn’t wrong. Your entire life was in shambles and that photo of your boyfriend was bothering you more than it should have. Although you’d dumped him, you were the one crying while he was warm and snug in the arms of another.

You wanted that warmth, oh god, you did.

“I can give it to you,” Kāi had whispered right on your lips, not kissing you but leaving a hair’s breadth of distance between your mouths as he teased you. “I can give you warmth like you’ve never had it before.”

And so you threw caution to the wind and had kissed him.

It probably wasn’t the smartest decision you made in your entire life but it was hard to regret it when it gave you the best sex you’d ever had in your life. Kāi had given you more than warmth—you didn’t know if it was his demonic powers, his insatiable drive, the way he could make you forget all your problems and have you transcend to an alternate plane of unparalleled pleasure and bliss that you never wanted to come back from, but it was addicting in a way that you’d never been addicted before.

You opened your eyes, wondering if he was in the dark hall with you as you softly called out his name.

Kāi usually appeared whenever you thought of him and tonight, you wanted him. You craved those cool fingers, those sensuous licks, those obsessive kisses and the way the hard planes of his body moulded perfectly against all the softness of yours.

Tonight, you’d had enough of reality and you needed your escape of your nightly incubus.

When you heard no answer, you sighed as you stood up. Annoyed, you strode to the bedroom and flicked on the lights. Furrowing your eyebrows when you didn’t see him on your bed—his favourite place to be in your apartment—you called out his name a couple more times. Receiving absolutely no response, you ran your hands through your hair in frustration as you start pulling off your sweater.

Where did he go? You wondered silently as you threw your clothes onto your bed. You usually didn’t ponder too much on Kāi because that usually lead to questions such as ‘What exactly are we doing?’, ‘Is this going to end like a Faustus situation?’ and of course, the dreaded ‘You started this as a rebound but it’s been almost seven months now.’

You didn’t know what you were doing. You didn’t know what you were risking—was it your soul, your body, maybe a demon spawn? Regardless, you were sure it wasn’t healthy but you didn’t know how to stop either. Every time that Kāi appeared, every time that he smirked at you, every time that your eyes met his lust-crazed white ones that looked like they wanted to ravish you had you falling helplessly back into bed underneath him.

You were quite literally addicted. To an incubus, nonetheless.

Your phone vibrated with a message, interrupting your thoughts as you unlocked your phone to read the text from Seira, your friend:

Hey, I heard about the job, I’m so sorry. I know you’re probably feeling down so how about you come out with me tonight? There’s this new club that opened downtown and we could go check it out!

You chew on your lower lip as she sent her location followed by a, ‘Junho is there too ;)’

Junho. You remember Junho. Dark hair, honey eyes, he was a charming guy that could easily give you a good time.

Not the best, though. No, only Kāi could give you that.

You sigh again as you glance up from your phone, casting accusatory glares around the room to no one in particular.

“Kāi,” you call out again loudly. “Kāi, if this is another one of your games, I swear it isn’t funny.”

Silence meets you and a slight tinge of worry fills you as the thought of something bad having happened crosses your mind.

No. Not to Kāi, you were sure.

You glance to the mirror, catching your reflection. You blink as you hardly recognise yourself—your tangled hair, smeared eyeliner and hollow cheeks.

I need to stop.

Before you can second-guess it, you grab your phone and text back that you’ll meet Seira in half an hour. Once she replies with excited smiley faces, you toss your phone aside and make your way to the bathroom to take a quick shower as you decided to get your shit together.

The right way this time, no Ouija or incubi. You were going to turn over a new leaf.

And by that, you mean, end the night in a new bed. With a human. Who you had possible chances of a future with. Or at least a one-night stand that didn’t leave you desperate for more.

Besides, with every minute that passed in your apartment where you were alone after a long time, you were starting to believe that Kāi had finally returned to whatever hell that he had crawled out of.

***

An hour later, you enter the new club named ‘Exodeux’ with Seira as she excitedly gushed over the guys that were waiting for you inside.

You couldn’t remember the last time that you’d stayed a night out at such a place. In fact, you couldn’t recall the last time that you had just stayed out—for seven months, it had just been Kāi, you and various places in your apartment in several different positions, every single night.

It was bizarre to even think of such a thing now, endless sex for so many months on end. The worst were those weeks when you were on your periods since Kāi would never leave your side then—his tongue was always in your mouth, lips constantly on your neck, your breasts and any other place that he could use to tease you to the brink of insanity. He repeatedly told you how he had no problem with period sex but your constant refusal and denial—since you found it icky—irked him enough to the point that he’d just use all tricks and tactics possible to get you as turned on and as frustrated as possible, only to leave you cold and dry in the end.

If you had any doubts that maybe he wasn’t all demon, he usually cleared those up for you during those weeks.

Every night since the night you’d moved into your new apartment was just another night spent in his arms, your throat going sore as Kāi made you moan his name over and over.

Then again, maybe it wasn’t that hard to believe since one night with him was enough to have you addicted.

“There they are!” Seira cheered beside you, drawing your attention to the corner where you recognised Junho standing with another man. Junho smiled as soon as you looked at him, his eyes almost involuntarily dropping to rake over your frame as a smile came across his face.

You couldn’t blame him. It had been a while since you dressed up and tonight seemed the best night that any other to go all out: you’d blow dried your hair to perfectly fall around your face that was contoured to perfection, with sharply winged eyeliner and a firetruck-red lipstick to complete the bold look that matched your red stilettos perfectly—a contrast to your smoky-eyes and black shimmery bodycon dress that hugged your body snugly.

You looked ravishing and you knew it.

If Kāi could…

You shook your head, trying to banish the thought. No. No more.

You let Seira pull you forward as she led you to the booth where Junho and his friend sat.

“Y/N,” Junho greeted with a smile as he looked at you and glanced down at the round table that was between the two of you. Seira quickly walked around it to hug Junho’s friend and he stared at you expectantly as if waiting for you to do the same but your legs seemed frozen to the spot, you couldn’t make yourself move around to hug him, you didn’t know why.

Or maybe you did. Maybe you knew exactly why but you chose to not dwell on it, instead smiling brightly at Junho as you said, “Hi, Junho. It’s been a while.”

“A little longer that a while,” he teases, gesturing for you to follow him to the bar      as the two of you sat down at the counter. He swivelled his seat to yours as he gestured to the bartender for a drink, apparently remembering your order as he repeated it along with one for him before turning to you. “How have you been? Not great, I’m assuming. I heard about the job, I’m sorry.”

You shake your head as you grab the gin and tonic that the bartender passes to you, giving Junho a pressed smile. “It’s fine. It’s for the best anyway.”

You were lying but he didn’t need to know that—you didn’t think he cared all that much, to be honest. His eyes met yours with a polite concern as if to affirm that you meant what you said and you felt your insides flutter with nervousness.

This was… strange. He wasn’t a demon, he wasn’t an incubus and you hadn’t summoned him from the seven circles of hell using a dusty old board that you’d played with during middle school.

Junho was a human. And for some reason, that seemed more terrifying. You had to talk to him, had to build a conversation, had to play coy and beat around the bush for a while before going for the kill.

He couldn’t read your thoughts. He couldn’t find out which spots on your body had your pupils dilating just with a feather-touch, memorise them and use them to his advantage until he had you falling apart in his arms over and over again.

He wasn’t a demon. No, Junho was a human and whether you surprised him in bed (which seemed highly likely, given your history of the past seven months) or not, it was highly unlikely that he would meet even the basic level of the incubus before him.

Yet, you couldn’t explain why you felt anxious, why your palms were sweating as you stared into his brown eyes and realised how normal he was, how not… Kāi.

You were crazy. Seven months with an incubus had made you insane—how else could you explain why you found one demonic white iris and another blue one with the most intensely dark pupils more comforting than regular human brown eyes?

You sip your drink slowly as you realise he’d asked you something and was waiting for your response. You lower the glass to the counter and open your mouth, the words stopping at your throat when you turn your head to see Junho was leaning forward, his face close to yours.

“Listen,” he said softly, his lips on your ear to be heard over the music. “I know you’re trying to lie about how you’re feeling… and I get that cause you probably don’t want to be here with all this crowd. What do you say, we go back to my place and we can talk about it?”

You close your eyes, a surge of annoyance coursing through you at his insinuation as you feel him place his hand on your thigh. You’d liked Junho—he was a decent guy and sure, sex tonight would be great but you had higher expectations of him, you’d thought that he’d seen you as a person or even a friend and not just a conquest for the night. You even want to get angry but you know you shouldn’t be complaining, not when you’ve literally been using a demon as a rebound for sex.

You suddenly feel a familiar grip on your elbow, fire-hot as it grabs you and swivels you around on the barstool. Your eyes shoot open and you gasp as you see Kāi in a red jacket that you’d never seen him in earlier—in all of the seven months, you’d only seen him in a yellow jacket that contrasted with his forest-green hair and you hadn’t cared either way because it never did stay on him for long.

His grip on your wrist is as sharp as the glare that he rivets towards Junho, yanking you off the barstool harshly enough to have you almost falling from the height but his other arm is already wrapping around your waist to steady you.

“I’ll take over from here,” Kāi growls, holding you to him such that your head is in his chest. Fingers digging into your wrist, he turns around and drags you out of the club and your heart is pounding louder than the beats reverberating through the club.

The two of you step out of the doors of the club and you blink in astonishment when you realise you’re back at your apartment living room, Kāi slamming the door loudly behind you as he used his powers to teleport you right back to where he wants you.

You turn around to face him, stunned as you say, “Wh—?”

He cuts you off with a gasp as he slams you against the wall, hand wrapped around your throat as the length of his body presses against yours. Your eyes widen as he hisses, “What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I—” you gasp at his hold, your voice sounding slightly distorted as you manage to choke out, “I tried calling you.”

“And I didn’t respond so you jumped into the arms of the next guy you found?” Kāi sneers, his eyes boring into your soul with an almost feverish intensity. “Like a fucking slut?”

A heavy breath escapes your parted lips at the word and you feel your thighs clench in response. Almost as if he understands the effect, he tightens his grip around your throat and let his eyes rake over you from your hair to your red stilettoes. In your stilettos, you are almost at eye-level with him and you can’t tell if he appreciates it or not.

“Look at you,” he taunts, his fingers digging painfully into your throat. “Dressed from head to toe like a slut. You must be batshit crazy if you’re trying to piss off an incubus, baby.”

His hands finally release your throat and you gasp loudly, your own hands rising to massage your throat that you knew would have marks tomorrow but then, Kāi suddenly wraps his arms around your middle and hoists you up, throwing you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing.

“If you wanna go out to fuck other guys like a slut, I’m gonna treat you like a slut,” he mutters as he carries you to your bedroom.

He throws you face-down onto the bed and you can’t even catch a breath before you feel his fingers on your ankles, flipping you around so you were on your back. You groan as the top of your head bumps against the headboard but Kāi is already yanking you down to the edge of the bed by your ankles, his hands shimmying up your dress roughly and spreading your thighs.

He barks out a laugh as his eyes fall on your bare unclothed centre, chills running down your spine at the menacing sound as he says, “You’re more daring that I thought, Y/N. You must have really wanted to piss me off.”

You shake your head, swallowing as you stare at him couched in between your legs, your stomach twisting with excitement at the lust in his eyes clouded with just as much anger. It makes you almost wish you’d have kissed Junho if only to aggravate Kāi that much more so as to have him punish you that much harder.

Kāi’s expression changes suddenly as he stares up at you, fist clenching on your thigh as his eyes harden and his lips set into a grim line.

That’s when you realise he heard what you thought.

“Kāi,” you breathe, eyes wide. “I didn’t mean—”

You yelp as his hands wrap around your ass and yank you into him until his face is buried between your thighs, his nose right against your clit. A loud moan leaves your lips as you feel his familiar tongue lick a long stripe right over your slit, inserting it and licking at all the arousal that had collected from the second you’d seen him at the club.

He groans against your heat as he tastes your essence, his lips and tongue hungrily lapping up all your dripping wetness with a ferocity that had you writhing on your bed. Your back arched, hands clenched tightly around his green hair, you keep your eyes closed as you feel him eat you out like a starving man.

“Kāi,” you gasp his name as he continues tonguing you roughly and quickly, flicking the little bundle of nerves until you were squirming with pleasure. Kāi’s hands tightened on your thighs in an effort to stop thrashing around as you hooked your ankles around his back.

“Kāi,” you panted loudly, eyes shooting open as you felt the knot in your lower abdomen tighten in a tell-tale sign that you were going to release soon. “Kāi, I’m going to—”

You cut yourself off with a scream as his tongue circles your nub faster, making stars explode behind your eyelids as you cum inside his merciless mouth that still didn’t let up, licking away at all the sopping wetness and cleaning you up.

You gasp breathlessly as he finally raises his head from between your legs, the back of his hand wiping his glistening chin and lips. You watch with bated breath as he quickly undresses and lifts you from the bed just enough to pull off your dress and bra, hurling them to the other side of the room.

If there was one think that Kāi loved, it was teasing. You couldn’t count the number of times he had denied your orgasm and had your throat sore as you begged and pleaded for his cock while he left you aching and dripping for him.

Usually, he enjoyed eating you out right until you felt like you were close and stopping right at that second, making you catch your breath, before starting all over again as he teased you endlessly.

Now, Kāi leaves your heels on as he crawls over your body. You’re immediately arching up to mould your body against his, his arm wrapping around your back as he smothers you under his weight while he buries his face in the crook of your neck. You close your eyes as you feel his teeth bite into the soft sensitive flesh of your throat, marking at the hickeys that hadn’t really disappeared for about seven months now since he keeps nipping at them and sucking on the skin until he left blooming purple flowers in its wake as if it was his personal mission to keep at them until they became permanent bruises.

You moan softly as you feel his hands then roam around your chest and his fingers slowly tweak your nipples. You arch your back, one arm wrapped around his broad shoulders and the other hand gripping his hair as he sucks your nipple into his warm mouth, tongue circling around the hardened bud. Sparks of arousal ignite deep in your stomach as his hand trails down your chest and navel slowly, teasingly.

A sigh leaves your mouth as his fingers find your centre again, a single digit slipping inside easily with how wet you are, despite having just released and Kāi licking you clean. He smirks against your skin as his other hand helps to part your thighs until he’s comfortably nestled in between your legs with his hardness digging into your hip while his finger moves teasingly around the walls of your pussy, careful to avoid your clit.

You groan in protest as Kāi explores you without ever touching you where you need him most and the sound of your wetness is audible even to your own ears. When you try to buck yourself into his hand, he quickly removes his finger and tuts at you.

“The more eager and disobedient you are,” he warms, nibbling at your collarbone. “The more I’m going to draw this out.”

You lower your hips back onto the bed, biting your lip in frustration as you relent to the demon. You gasp as Kāi suddenly thrusts two fingers inside, your pussy squelching at the intrusion as he quickly starts fucking you with them. The pads of his fingers circle your clit mercilessly at an inhuman speed that have you squirming underneath his body as you try to pull away, unable to catch your breath.

Kāi holds you steady with his body and presses his lips to yours in a kiss that you’re familiar with—his tongue distracting you from the unravelling that his fingers are going to do to you. You can taste yourself on his lips and it makes you moan into his warm mouth as he continues fucking you with them, drawing figure-8’s on your clit with both the digits. Your stomach clenches and you barely get a warning as you cum again, soaking his fingers with your release as your entire body sings with pleasure.

You’re panting for breath as your back that had reflexively arched at your orgasm falls back onto the mattress heavily. You feel Kāi raise his head from your chest and you know he’s watching your face—he loves to stare at you when he’s with you, watching you crumble beneath him—but you’re still not sure you can even see as you stare at the ceiling, white spots clouding your vision as you try to come down from your high.

He removes his fingers from your wet heat and you’re certain that the sheets beneath you are stained now.

“Kāi,” you whisper, your chest heaving as you blink hazily. “I’m—”

The words morph into an incoherent moan as you feel his familiar hardness against your pussy, feel him rub the head of his erection over your slit and coat it with your leaking cum.

Your eyes shoot wide open just to see that dangerous smirk of Kāi’s, the one that meant he was up to no good as his eyes glint with malice while he positions his dick to your pussy, nudging your thighs open further with his knee.

You close your eyes when he slides inside you easily, the head rubbing against your clit just slightly but enough to have your back arching with the equal bouts of pain and pleasure that zing through your body.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as Kāi presses each hand onto the pillow under your head as he begins snapping his hips against yours, pounding into you. You lean your head back and moan, making him grab your thighs and raise your legs until he is buried to the hilt, deep inside you until you can feel every single inch of him.

You’re chanting his name in the unholiest way as he licks your calf with that teasing smirk, pushing into you and filling you in a way that you can feel him all the way in your cervix. You clutch the sheets at your side tightly, gripping them in between your fingers tightly as you feel the tightening at your lower stomach again, another impending orgasm.

Your body feels sore and you’re certain that you can’t take anymore, demonic incubus dick or not. Kāi, however, is merciless as he keeps thrusting into you at an inhuman pace that has you seeing stars again. You close your eyes tightly and feel your thighs clench as his dick rubs repeatedly against your clit and before you know it, you’re orgasming again.

Kāi’s fingers bite into your skin as he feels you coat his dick with your cum and he hooks your ankles around his slender hips, lowering himself onto your body to pound you harder into the mattress. Your eyes widen as you feel the coiling sensation again as Kāi goes rougher, fucking you faster to chase his own high. Immeasurable pleasure and pain clouds your senses as you grip his shoulders, feeling sweat sticking to both of your bodies as he moves against you in a way that you’re sure will leave you sore for at least a week.

You scream as you feel him finally flood inside your heat, painting your walls white as he reaches his high and triggers your orgasm again. You cum right after he does and you feel full in a way you never have before, feel the wetness seep out of you and drip down the curve of your ass as Kāi finally slows, his chest heaving against yours as he collapses on top of you.

You can’t open your eyes and you’re certain that you can’t move as you feel your consciousness slowly leave you, the familiar darkness that follows a good fuck welcoming you in its warm embrace.

 When you come to again, you notice Kāi propped up against the wall at your feet, his fingers lazily running up the length of your calf.

You blink and sit up, pulling your legs to you and curling them beneath you as you look at him. He leans his head back against the wall, quiet, eyes carefully watching you.

Kāi wasn’t much for aftercare, which you suppose was not to be expected since he was an incubus, after all. But in an unexplainable way, it gave you a sense of comfort to wake up and see him still there in your bed—“Incubi don’t sleep,” he’d muttered in explanation when you’d asked him why he was snooping around your room after you’d woken up from having sex the first time.

That, however, didn’t make this any less confusing. At the end of the day, whether he stayed or disappeared to wherever he did, he was an incubus.

And you weren’t sure if you could keep doing this.

Kāi raised an eyebrow, still staring at you. “Is this about that guy from yesterday?”

You shook your head and then hesitated before nodding. Not Junho but it didn’t matter. If it wasn’t him, it had to be another guy. Another mortal. Not Kāi.

Kāi nods. “If that’s what you want.”

Your eyes widen at this, surprised at how easy that was. “What?”

He shrugs. “What?”

“No… no throwing me on the bed? No punishment? No ‘I’m going to prove to you how great I am’?”

“Do you want all that cause trust me, I can keep going until you pass out again,” Kāi stated wryly, rolling his eyes and for a moment, the gesture reminds you of his ‘angel’ comment when you’d first summoned him. He smiles suddenly and you realise it’s cause he can hear that thought too—the expression catches you off guard, never having seen it on him prior to this.

“I know what you’re scared of, Y/N,” Kāi says, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it as he looks at you with those intense heterochromia eyes. “You’re worried about getting addicted, although in my opinion, I think you already are.”

“That’s why I have to stop,” you state loudly, as if to convince yourself. He raises an eyebrow at your tone and you lower it as you clarify, “We. That’s why we have to stop. I can’t keep doing this anymore. It’s been… long enough.”

“Mm, one kiss and I can have you singing a different tune, baby,” Kāi teases and you flush, pressing yourself back further against the wall as if to keep him at a distance—because you knew he was right, you were weak and he knew it as much as you did.

Kāi laughs at your expression. “Relax, Y/N. You forget that I can read your mind and I know that this is what you want. So I’ll leave.”

You hesitate, still feeling slightly wary and maybe even a bit disappointed. “You sure you don’t want my soul or something?”

You were joking but Kāi chuckles nonetheless, shaking his head. “Nah, I’m sure you’re going to call me back again. There’s no mortal on this planet that can satisfy you. I’ve made sure of that.”

You roll your eyes. “There it is. There’s the Kāi I know.”

He instructs you on how to send him back in such a way that he isn’t stuck around you or on this plane anymore—you grab the Ouija board and chant the incantations to end the session from the first time, seven months ago, bidding the demon that you had summoned goodbye.

Kāi’s form shimmers for a second as if he is dematerialising and your fingers freeze on the planchette when you notice him smiling at you.

“Y/N,” he says your name, intense eyes trained on you. “Take care. And good luck.”

Your heart flutters at his words and you swallow, suddenly wondering if you were making a mistake and right at that moment, Kāi smirks, his eyes glinting in that familiar mischievous way.

You narrow your eyes right as he disappears and the planchette flies across the room, hitting the wall opposite the bed before rolling down the narrow gap between your bed and the wall.

Always a demon, even until the end. Just when you thought he might have been serious.

You stare at it in silence, feeling empty all of a sudden.

“Kāi,” you call out tentatively, your heart in your throat. Silence meets your ears and you sigh, running your hands through your hair tiredly as you read 3AM on the digital clock at your bedside.

It’s over.

You slowly pull the covers over you and force yourself to fall asleep, missing the body that had kept you warm, missing your addiction.

***

Your head felt like it was going to split open as you headed inside the café, lips quivering from the cold and welcoming the warmth of the cosy interiors and the smell of coffee.

I never should have ended it, I’m a fucking idiot, your eyebrows furrowed as the thought crossed your mind as you waited in the queue for your order. It was almost noon and probably too late to be having coffee but you wanted something to help lessen the headache, especially since your conflicted thoughts wouldn’t stop.

It was for the best. You knew that.

But you also knew it was the best you’d ever had and probably would ever have.

Just summon him again tonight, you sighed heavily at the thought as you stepped forward as a person stepped away from the queue with their drink. He can’t resist your call. At least, not if you call him by his name.

Another person. You step forward again.

Aren’t demons usually secretive about their names? You know his. He told you. He wants you to call him.

The line grows shorter. Another step forward.

Just use the damn board. Yeah, he’s a cocky bastard and he probably won’t stop gloating after you call him but—

“Welcome to Universe Café, miss, what would you like to order?”

“Yeah, I’d like an Iced Americano,” you sigh tiredly, running a hand over your face. “Decaf, please, and—”

You stop, feeling your entire body freeze as you look at the barista. Your eyes widen as you take in his teal hair, his honey skin and chocolate eyes that became little crescent-moons with the smile that he gives you.

“And?” He prods, raising an eyebrow in an oh-so-familiar gesture with his hand hovering over the keypad as he types in your order and waits for you to finish.

You swallow, your heart racing in your chest in a way that it hadn’t in what seemed like forever, even when with Kāi. “Decaf. That’s all.”

He smiles. “That’ll be three dollars, miss.”

You hand over the money, your eyes dropping to the name-tag on his chest before flying back up. “Thank you, Jongin.”