#throbbing headache that makes it impossible to focus on anything

[runawaymun]

Bruhhhh I just want to wake up and not be in pain for once 😭 need a break

#cw personal #cw negativity #I have woken up with a migraine every single day for the past two weeks and painkillers have only managed to just dull it to a vague #throbbing headache that makes it impossible to focus on anything #ughhhhhhhhhhhh #chronic illness is great huh #so incredibly frustrating to wake up in the same pain I went to bed with or worse #like I am very aware that getting mad/mopey about it will only increase my general suffering bc this is just how things are right now #but ohhhhh man it’s hard

[strawberry-whorecake]

I Always Get What I Want | K.R.

pairing: Kylo Ren x fem!reader

summary: You find yourself in the clutches of Kylo Ren, how and why you were unsure, but you were even more unsure of your attraction to him. He saw your thoughts, he knew how you felt, and consequently he knew how he needed to require information from you.

word count: 3.6k

warnings: swearing, dirty talk, virgin!reader, loss of virginity, (slight) dubcon, fingering, cum eating, unprotected sex, PinV sex, inappropriate use of the force, Kylo's an asshole

A/N: kylo was the first adam character i ever fell for so this felt oddly healing to write lmao

Your eyes fluttered fluttered open but everything was blurry. As your vision came into focus the throbbing pain in your skull became more apparent. Only then did you realize you had no idea where you were.

Your arms tugged to rub your eyes, soothe your burning headache— but your arms were confined. Letting out a confused murmur you looked around, trying to figure out where you were.

“Ah, you’re awake.” The metallic and vaguely inhuman voice made your blood turn cold. You immediately knew the source of the voice.

That’s right… you were on Takodana fighting with the Resistance before everything went dark.

Despite the thick lump of nerves that formed in your throat, you spoke. “Where am I?”

He had the nerve to laugh, regardless it was more of a huff of a laugh, but it was still audible even over the synthesizer of his mask.

“You’re on my ship.” His voice had a snap to it, one that spoke wordlessly that he wasn’t interested in playing polite greeting games.

But his response only made the hair on your neck stand straight up— what in stars sake could he possibly want with you to such an extreme he’d capture you and load you onto his ship?!

You wracked your brain recalling every event moment for moment as it passed, but it was incredibly difficult as your head throbbed, making it seem almost impossible to recount events clearly.

Han Solo. Takodana. Fighting Stormtroopers. The metallic hiss of his synthesizer… then blackness. An all encompassing blackness.

Another huff of a laugh ripped you from your thoughts— and you could’ve sworn the thrumming in your head seemed to die down.

“For the Resistance, you’re not very bright.”

Your arms pulled against the restraints, wriggling in your chair as you tried to face your captor— the absolute vile creature that was Kylo Ren.

As if he knew you wanted to face him, he effortlessly glided around the edge of your confining seat.

He was large, dark— and not just in dressing but in energy too. His leather cladden hands were interlocked behind his back. His cold and empty mask staring right in your direction, you could feel his eyes on you though you could not see them.

“Why am I here?” you spat with a sudden haste. You were truthfully less concerned with your own predicament than you were of your fellow fighters— your friends.

“Why do you think you’re here?” his tone dripped with a sticky sweetness that made your stomach roll with annoyance. He was toying with you.

He grazed around your chair again, looking away from your direction as he strolled in front of you. “There’s a droid working for your… friends… I need it’s location and you’re going to give it to me.”

Your brows furrowed, “I’m not giving you anything.” His mask snapped back in your direction. “No?”

For not being able to see his own face, this was the most intense staredown you’d ever been in.

“We’ll just have to see about that, won’t we?”

Before you had a moment to think, a leather hand outstretched and the throbbing of your head grew the strongest it’d been. It drew a tear from your eye as you strained and hissed through your teeth trying to fight the pressure that made your skull feel like it was going to explode.

You despised this guy. He was weak, and even worse he was a coward… hiding behind a mask.

Almost with a shudder his hand withdrew and the pain ceased though a pounding lingered. “I see you think so highly of me.”

“What does it matter what I think of you?” You spat again, a soft pant to your words as you recovered from the pain.

His head cocked to the side as he looked at you, stars, how you’d love to punch him in the face.

He raised his hands and you winced, readying yourself for another wave of pain but you were instead met with a whooshing hiss that made your eyes shoot up to find the source.

How you wish you hadn’t looked up.

Kylo Ren had pulled off his helmet and rather glamorously shook his head causing his raven waves to bounce free of the metal enclosure from which they were previously held.

Another lump formed in your throat as you looked over him. He had big, almost puppy dog-ish brown eyes. His nose was large and perfectly angled. His lips were plush and pink. The skin of his face was littered with freckles and beauty marks that envied a map of stars in the galaxy.

Being so momentarily enraptured by his appearance you’d failed to notice the drumming in your brain growing larger. “I’m flattered.” he hummed with that same sticky sweet tone.

You cursed yourself under your breath. He was Han and Leia’s son… of course he would be captivating… if only he hadn’t captivated you, literally and figuratively.

He was still in your head and his lip quirked upward in disapproval of your thoughts about his parents.

“Where is the droid?” he asked again.

This was pointless— “You know where the droid is, you were on Takodana, were you not?” you hissed. “What happened to my friends?”

His eyes narrowed briefly as he considered you. “Perhaps you’ll be pleased to learn I have no idea.”

Somehow that made you feel better and simultaneously worse. If he didn’t know they were dead, then they had to be alright, but that still only posed the question why you were here.

“Are you finished playing stupid now? I know you’ve seen the map… you’d somehow convinced the droid to show it to you.” His eyes narrowed again, the corner of his right eye twitched briefly. “You headed off Han Solo on Leia’s orders… I know everything.”

You wanted to scream in frustration, scream at him for being in your head, but all you could do was bite your tongue.

Because worst of all… he knew. He knew your thoughts, yes, but he knew how frustrated your thoughts became the longer you looked at him.

He took a few steps forward, closing in any respectable distance as he drew nearer to you, his head cocking again, looking at you. “I need to see that map… and I will see it by all means necessary.”

You wanted to cross your arms, put up all your defenses but this stupid chair held you pinned and vulnerable to him.

“You won’t get that map from me.” you spat.

His lip quirked up again, this time it was sly, almost entertained. “We’ll see.”

His hand outstretched again, the leather of his gloves strained against the stretch of his fingers as he reached further into your head.

You lurched out of the chair, fighting against it with every ounce of strength you had— and only when your mind flashed the image of his face again did the throbbing cease once more.

“Oh… I see.” You flopped weak and limp like a rag doll, only the restraints holding you up. You cursed under your breath for your mind’s betrayal against your senses.

Your eyelids fluttered weakly as you looked up at him through your lashes. You wanted to look away from him, in fact you begged that your body would react on its own, but it didn’t.

“I know just how to deal with you… it’s so clear to me now.”

Your brows gently knit, not knowing where he was going, before his fingers gently twitched and you shot straight back against the chair with a less than gentle bang as your head hit the metal support.

You couldn’t stop the groan that leeched out from your throat before your eyes caught him again, another sly smirk on his face.

He was still exceedingly close and you hated the way your stomach flipped as his eyes studied you. His hand outstretched again and with half the thought he was going to reach into your mind you pinched your eyes shut… but the thrumming didn’t start, and instead you felt fingers pinch against your chin.

Your eyes shot open wide, meeting his face as he held your gaze to look at him. “Strange…” he hummed. You tried to wiggle out of his grip, but it was firm, and the restraints weren’t helping your predicament… you had no choice but to sit helplessly and look at him.

You watched as his eyes drifted over your features before gliding down your neck— ever so slowly, until they glanced at your body. If you weren’t looking right at him, you would’ve missed it because only a beat later his eyes were right back on yours.

“Oh don’t worry… I can feel it.”

You bit back the whine that bubbled in your throat. He kept his grip on your chin, holding your gaze to his as you felt something caress the side of your neck making you jolt. His hand hadn’t moved yet it was unmistakable something was touching you. His smirk pulled again as he ran his leather cladden thumb against your cheek.

“You’ll learn… I always get what I want.” his words came out almost in a cooing fashion.

The caress on your neck drifted lower, now moving down your side. Your fists clenched, and Kylo’s gaze flicked toward them before looking to your eyes again.

“Don’t pretend you don’t like it.” he cooed again, a slight jeer in his tone. Your brows knit as you tried to rip your face away– not wanting him to stop, but not wanting to look at him either.

Only a moment too late did you remember the Force… that was the ghostly pressure that was sweeping down your hip, trailing around your thigh, inching closer and closer to your sex. This time as much as you hated it, you couldn’t stop the whimper.

You couldn’t decide what you hated more, Kylo’s entertained smirk, or the fact that your body betrayed you and you dripped with arousal over what he was doing to you.

The pressure caressed your slit, making you gasp and jolt, Kylo’s eyes glued on you the entire time. He had you just where he wanted you, the two of you both knew it. “Show me the map.” he purred.

You whined, shaking your head. You knew better than to speak, knowing your voice would betray you.

“Very well then.” Without warning, what felt like the pressure of two fingers slid inside you and you mewled pathetically, Kylo still watching you squirm. The pressure withdrew before reentering you, forming a pattern.

You wriggled in your seat and fought against Kylo’s grip, it was a feeling you were not familiar with… which again, Kylo knew. His own brows furrowed softly as he raised his hand, “You’ve never been touched like this?” he hummed. You could only whimper, but the pressure in your head appeared again– making it clear this would be his form of communication with you.

Kylo sucked his teeth and looked at you almost as if disappointed. “Then I suppose this is an honor.” his smirk curled back on his lips again. He was still in your head, still teasing your cheek with his thumb.

A third pressure applied around your clit, flicking over it and making you gasp again, trying to escape from his grasp. He had an expression of sick delight as he watched you fight against his grip on your face, watching as you writhed under the pressure of the Force.

You were forced to look into those big brown eyes, forced to watch as he studied your every movement– seeing what you reacted to the most. Your gaze drifted to his hand that was still raised– still reaching into your head. All of this being so completely new to you, being touched for the first time, you couldn’t stop yourself from wondering what he himself would feel like, and not the ghostly pressure.

As soon as you thought it you immediately cursed yourself, as Kylo’s smirk pulled into what was arguably a smile. “Filthy little thing, aren’t you?” he purred.

“Well, as you wish.” The throbbing in your head ceased as he lowered both his outstretched arm, and dropped your face.

The pressure around your clit and inside of you seemed to vanish into thin air, and he released your chin. Your body fought with the feeling of relief that it was gone, but also with the slight remorse you felt missing it.

Kylo stood from your side, coming around to the front of your chair. His eyes studied your body as he pulled himself in closer, his leather covered hand running down your chest and your abdomen before dipping beneath the waistband of your pants. The feeling made you gasp again. The leather was smooth and textured in a way that was entirely different from the pressure of the Force.

His fingers teased your cunt, sliding through your slit as his eyes looked into yours and he collected your slick on his gloves. He watched intensely as he plunged two fingers inside you. Your brows knit and you fought the urge to cry out.

His large hands felt even bigger with the leather of his glove, and the sensation was entirely new. His thumb caught on your clit as he rubbed circles against your nub.

“You wanna show me the map yet?” he asked, curling his fingers inside of you and making you moan out. You pinched your eyes shut, not wanting to look at him– you couldn’t bear to look at him, at the way he studied your expression so heavily as he fucked you on his fingers. Leather exploring territories of you that have never been crossed before.

You only opened your eyes when that caressing pressure glided across your throat before squeezing at the sides.

He hummed, “That’s better. I want to see those eyes.” You still wanted to hit him, to curse at him, he was still toying with you but in an even more cruel way.

He worked his fingers in and out of you, thrusting and curling them. His eyes flicked down to his hand, watching as it explored your cunt.

When you whimpered out a cry, he groaned, making you clench around his fingers. His eyes flickered back up to yours. “Oh?” he purred. He sucked his teeth softly, “Those little sounds you make…” he huffed softly.

Your eyes widened briefly as his other hand reached down his own torso, rubbing his hand against himself. He saw you watch, and his lip curled into another smirk as he hummed. His fingers curled inside you again, and you couldn’t help but moan out.

He withdrew his hand from you, looking away from your face as he studied the slick of your arousal coating his gloved fingers. His eyes met yours as he raised the glove to his plush lips, his tongue darting between his fingers and lapping it up, the sight making you whine again and clench around nothing. He drew his fingers into his mouth, sucking them off before removing them with a pop as he looked over you.

“Maybe I’ll have to fuck the map out of you… what do you think of that?” he cooed, making you whimper again.

He leaned over you again, his fingers reaching for your restraints. “If you try anything stupid, you won’t like the consequences, understood?” His gaze on you was so intimidating you couldn’t help but nod.

He unclasped your wrists and you didn’t waste a moment to rub them, sore and strained as they were from the tightness in which they were being held.

You didn’t get another moment to soothe your wrists as you were being pulled to your feet and turned around. Kylo pressed his hips into your backside as you bit harshly on your lip to stop the moan that bubbled in your throat. He grabbed hold of the waistband of your pants and with a swift tug he pulled them off of you, embarrassment ripping through your body at your exposure.

His leather hand groped your ass, rubbing against your skin as he pressed his hips against your backside again, making the whine pull from your throat.

Kylo tutted, “How would the Resistance feel if they saw you now?” You didn’t even have time to stop the pathetic whimper that escaped you following his words, and Kylo chuckled darkly.

You heard rustling behind you and as much as you wanted to look over your shoulder, you felt frozen. “Arms on the chair.” he ordered, and you unfortunately obeyed.

You gasped as he slid his cock between your folds, your body jolting slightly at the sensation, before a pressure applied to all your limbs and you were genuinely frozen to the spot.

You prickled with annoyance as the asshole used the Force to hold you still, but you didn’t have long to dwell on it as he prodded at your entrance and you sucked in a great breath.

Kylo sunk into you and you let out a cry as your insides were bittersweetly painful. It was a hot searing pain that was oddly intoxicating. You were suddenly thankful for the Force holding you steady, because you would’ve collapsed upon the feeling— he was big.

His hands found your waist, continuing to sheathe himself inside of you until his hips were flush with your ass, and he groaned as he bottomed out.

“Shit- you’re tight…” he huffed. It didn’t help that you clamped around him and he groaned again.

He pulled out of you slightly, drawing another cry from your throat before he sank back in.

After a few moments of slow thrusts, he picked up pace, pulling you back by the hips onto him. You moaned out as he fucked into you, the feeling making your head spin.

The only sounds in the room were skin hitting skin, your whines, and Kylo’s deep groans— you begged the stars that nobody could hear you.

His cock fucked you incredibly. He filled you up so well and prodded a certain spot inside you that sent shockwaves of pleasure through your system.

Kylo hummed, “You like this don’t you? Filthy whore… being fucked by my cock.” he hissed through his teeth as he issued a particularly painful thrust.

Two sensations added to your pleasure, the ghostly pressure was suddenly on your clit again, but was also squeezing at the sides of your throat, stifling another cry.

“I’m gonna make you cum on my cock like the little Resistance slut you are.” he hissed as his hips slammed against yours.

All you could do was offer more strangled moans as his pace grew frantic, his hands squeezing harshly on your hips as the pressure on your clit also quickened.

An unfamiliar knot grew in your core and every buck of his hips made it grow tighter. “K-Kylo-“ you whimpered, earning a husky groan in response.

The grip on your throat strengthened and you strangled out a gasp. “Filthy- fuck- filthy Resistance scum.” Kylo cursed.

He split you open with his ravenous and intense thrusts, he was anything but gentle. “You’re gonna cum when I tell you to- you understand?”

You squeaked out another response as the Force gripped the sides of your throat again.

Kylo was cursing and panting behind you, his movements rough and fervid as you poured out more cries and moans that managed to slip past the grip on your throat.

Tears stung at your eyes as the knot in your stomach was growing impossibly tighter, you weren’t sure what was happening but you had a feeling you weren’t going to last much longer.

You choked out his name again and he hissed between his teeth. “Cum like the slut you are.”

His hips buckled into yours and the pressure on your clit seemed to intensify, and before you knew it your vision blurred as the knot burst and your cunt clenched down around him— white hot pleasure flooding your senses.

You choked out a cry, pinching your eyes shut and the pressure holding your body still ceased, causing your limbs to tremble.

You had barely enough time to process your own release before Kylo uttered more curses and your cunt flooded with warmth, his hips still snapping against yours as your walls clenched, milking him to his end.

As his movements stilled he pulled out of you, removing his hands and almost making you collapse against the chair, but you fought to hold yourself up.

You glanced over your shoulder, watching as he pulled up his own pants and tucked himself back inside them before he caught your eye.

You barely had a moment before his hand outstretched and your head pounded, making you cry out.

Kylo grunted as your orgasm thankfully blurred your thoughts. His hands harshly tugged your pants back up and he turned you and roughly shoved you back into the chair.

As soon as you tried to put up a fight the Force seized your limbs and you went slack. He hastily buckled the restraints around your arms again.

“You’re horrible!” you spat at him.

Kylo only smirked, “You liked it.”

He stood to his full height, picking up his helmet and quickly replaced it over his head. “Don’t you worry, I will get that map from you… until then, I think I’ll be keeping you around.”

You cursed at him, making a metallic chuckle bounce off the walls of the interrogation room before doors screeched open and heavy footprints echoed out of the room.

Stars you hated Kylo Ren.

#adam driver #adcu #adcu smut #adcu x reader #smut #kylo ren x reader #star wars smut #kylo ren x you #ben solo x reader #kylo ren smut #whorecake fics

[eksvaized]

Simon ’Ghost’ Riley x fem!reader render by: @661ave

part SIX

[ Previous 〡 Next ]

You wake up with a parched throat, throbbing headache and, if it’s possible, feeling worse than you did last night before closing your eyes and falling asleep.

You search for your phone in between the sheets and under the pillows. But then remember you don’t have it, and it’s most likely still with Ghost. You would prefer to avoid him after yesterday. The memory of him witnessing you crouch next to the truck, trying not to choke on your vomit, while he soothed you is etched deep in your mind, and you won’t be able to forget about it anytime soon.

Although you know he can’t snoop around because you have a password on your phone, you still feel uneasy knowing that in some impossible scenario, if it unlocks, he will find the video. You don’t want to explain how or why you have it, and you certainly don’t want to tell him about how somehow has been messing with you and harassing you daily through the texts, while hiding between an unknown number.

But.

Maybe you should confess to him?

After all, you aren’t the only one who may face consequences if the tape gets leaked.

After making up your mind, you roll out of bed and ignore your fuzzy mind. A quick shower wakes you up. You even find five minutes to brew yourself a cup of coffee and drink it while you get dressed and brush your hair.

You don’t have to work today, but you still drag yourself to the base because you’re a woman on a mission: you need to talk with Ghost and get your phone from him.

However, it soon becomes clear that no one knows where he is. You check all the possible locations where you think he may be. You ask every soldier who passes you if they have seen the lieutenant, and while some say that a few hours ago they have witnessed him leaving his office, and talking with Soap, they can’t pinpoint you to his exact location now.

Frustrated, annoyed and still hungover, you stroll down the hallways, hoping that eventually you will bump into Ghost. Somehow, you end up in the abandoned wing with all the vacant offices. You have no excuse to be here, but for some reason, your feet carry you towards the door behind which you and Ghost tore each other’s clothes off.

You tell yourself it’s just a curiosity; you haven’t been in there since that night, and you just want to relive your memory of that evening since you don’t have anything better to do right now.

The door creaks as you open it. You attempt to turn on the light, flicking the switch twice, but just like the last time, it still is broken. Fortunately, there’s a window and enough sunlight is creeping in through the broken white blinds for you to be able to see.

Your fingertips brush the dust off the desk and you recall Ghost bending you over it, ordering you to put your arms behind your back as his hand wrapped around your neck, and his fingers lightly squeezed your throat making you dizzy.

You were certain that the desk would snap beneath you, splitting in two, because he was forceful and relentless with his thrusts, stretching you out, making sure that each time his hips collided with yours, a desperate moan slipped past your lips. But somehow despite it all, the rustic wooden desk survived and proved to be quite sturdy when Ghost flipped you around, lifted you on it and got on top.

You shake your head, hoping it will clear your mind and maybe force you to focus your thoughts on something else.

However, lately, Ghost and your memories of him, as well as all your interactions, creep up on you when you least expect it. Sometimes you spend hours thinking about him and only realise that when you snap back to reality, and notice how much time has passed.

You should talk to him. If you want to move, you need some closure.

You add one more thing to your to-do list, which now includes not just showing Ghost the video once you get your phone back, but also talking about how you slept together and that since then you have difficulty forgetting about it.

Your feet continue to drag you around the room. It’s filthy and dusty, and it doesn’t appear half as appealing in daylight as it did in dim moonlight.

As you approach the bookshelf, you notice some old books, a few pencils, and an empty, hideous yellow vase with dead flowers in it. Your gaze then shifts and your heart sinks. As your chest tightens, the blood in your veins freezes.

A camera. Hidden in the corner. Pointing to the fucking desk.

You grab it and turn it on. The memory card is empty. You realise that whoever owns this camera, whoever placed it here, must be the same person who keeps harassing you.

But who could it be?

The world stops spinning and time stands still. A whirlwind of thoughts consumes you. But in an instant, as if hit by a speeding truck, everything becomes clear. The puzzle pieces click into their rightful spots, sending a surge of realization through you: the video, the texts, and the threats… all of it is Ghost doing.

As your jaw tightens, your pulse quickens and you grind your teeth. You are furious, and angry at him, but you also feel betrayed and are desperate to get to the bottom of all of this.

You march down the hallway, pushing oblivious people, who don’t see you, and dare to block your way. You look like a crazy woman, but you don’t care. You also don’t care that the door is locked when you finally reach Ghost's office. No matter how long it takes, you are not leaving and are determined to wait.

How could he possibly have done something like this? Not that it mattered. Now that you knew it was him messing with you, you weren’t afraid anymore — he would never leak the video because that would also put him in trouble; Ghost doesn’t seem like someone who would want to self-destruct.

Two hours pass, but finally, he appears in the hallway. As his gaze lands upon you, a whirlwind of confusion and curiosity dances within his eyes, like a kaleidoscope of emotions. He’s good at reading your body language and when he realises you’re about to lash out, not wanting you to cause a scene in front of everyone, he pulls you into his office and closes the door.

“How could you?!” You raise your voice and don’t care if you’re shouting. “Do you think it’s amusing to toy with me? Don’t you have something more important to do?!”

“Calm down.” He leans against his desk, arms folded over his chest. You despise how calm and unconcerned he appears to be about your outburst. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. But you either lower your voice or leave and return when you’re ready to talk without yelling.”

You scoff. Your eyes are burning with rage, and you are on the verge of ripping your hair out because he doesn’t take you seriously.

“You can’t order me around anymore.” You step closer to him, pressing your index finger to his chest, driving your nail into his flesh as hard as you can. “I’m no longer afraid of you.”

The dismissive eye roll he gives provokes an overwhelming desire to punch him; you fold your hands into fists, but your arms remain firmly attached to your sides as if glued.

“Where’s my phone?”

Ghost stands up and gently pushes you out of his way, his shoulder brushing against yours before he walks to the bookcase, grabs your phone off the highest shelf and hands it to you.

“You can try to pretend that you don’t know what I’m talking about—” You unlock your phone and scroll to the very first message and the video. Ghost is looking over your shoulder. As he exhales, his warm breath grazes your skin, making the hairs on your neck stand up. “—but how do you explain this?”

You press play and shove the phone into his hands. For a moment, you stay still. Your body is stiff, and your eyes are fixed on him. You fight the urge to rip his balaclava off since you hate not being able to see and read his face.

When he continues to watch the video instead of saying anything, you snatch the phone from his grip and push a camera in his hand.

“Don’t try to tell me that you didn’t film us. Because I discovered your little toy and it’s an awfully big coincidence, don’t you think?! Out of all the vacant offices you took me to the one with the camera hidden in it.”

Finally, he raises his head. As you look into his eyes, you can sense a storm brewing, a whirlwind of emotions waiting to be unleashed. However, he doesn’t lash out and remains calm. His voice is low as he speaks.

“This is not my camera, and as much as I loved watching the video, well, at least the first five minutes of it, I wasn’t the one who recorded us having sex.”

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #cod #writing #call of duty #ghost x reader #ghost x y/n #ghost x you #blackmailghost

[heresthestorymorningglory]

Just Another Thursday...

Summary: Lloyd Hansen's a dick.

A/N: Listen y'all this NSFW 18+ should be par for the course at this point. So like….just don’t okay?

As always, the inspo is thanks to the Goosecord and my beautiful partner in crime @ken-dom who constantly receives messages from me in the dead of night needing reassurance or “Hey what about if THIS happened?!”

Bless you my new found chosen sister for putting up with my antics! (Yes I copy pasted, yes it's still valid don't come for me)

This latest part is a little stabby so please my duckies, proceed with caution

This is a continuation of what I've affectionately titled the Nurse Series, read previous parts 'Hello Nurse' and 'Unfinished Business' here.

Like I said last time, this won’t be the last you see of SIx

Enjoy my loves! <3

@odessa-is-my-queen you asked for a tag <3

You groaned, head throbbing as you blinked the blur out of your eyes, the dim room coming into focus. 

“There she is” the unfamiliar voice reminding you of your very unpleasant encounter before you were knocked unconscious. 

You were bound to a chair, both hands and feet; in some sort of dingy warehouse with flickering fluorescent lights. 

You tried to fight past the throbbing headache to figure out an escape plan. Six was gone, he had no idea where you were or how to find you. You were on your own. You were on the wrong end of this transaction and that terrified you. Six had never told you the whole story, but he had told you enough; this man was capable of murder. 

“A dirty warehouse basement is a little cliche don’t you think?” You asked softly with your head dropped, you were trying to avoid making eye contact with him. 

That plan had been short lived as Lloyd grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back, forcing you to look up at him. 

“God,” you winced “At least buy me dinner first” 

Lloyd scoffed with amusement “She’s witty” he quipped to the dark figure standing in the corner not speaking 

You took a deep breath in through your nose “What do you want Lloyd?” 

He didn’t answer, instead, he struck you hard across the side of your face, the heavy ring on his pinky splitting skin. 

You squeezed your eyes shut, biting the inside of your cheek. If you had learned anything from Six’s incessant teachings “just in case” it was to keep your mouth shut. You had reassured him again and again nothing would ever happen, but he had insisted, and you complied…he was never going to leave you alone again.  

“Where did you send him?” you asked as he circled around the front of the chair you were sitting in, letting go of the hold he had on your hair. You kept your eyes forward, but off of him. 

He pulled a chair over in front of you, letting it scrape across the dirty cement before sitting down. 

“Oh honey, he should be the last of your worries…” he clicked his tongue in disapproval. 

“Where” you repeated 

“On a wild goose chase”  he answered, tipping his head, forcing your eyes to meet his “I owed him one” 

“He’s too smart for that” you muttered, knowing you were grasping at straws and only hoping you were right, praying he wouldn’t just run off halfway around the world without at least giving it a second thought. 

“Surprised he left you all alone,” Lloyd continued “Unprotected” 

“I can handle myself” 

This made him laugh out loud, he threw his head back, hand resting on his stomach. “Can you?!”  His voice a little too cheery at the concept He leaned forward in his chair, hands clasped together between his knees “I’d like to test that theory” 

Another hard backhand across your other cheek made your head snap harshly, making you bite your tongue. 

You had no way out, there were at least four other men scattered around the room, bigger than Lloyd, probably told to shoot first and ask questions later. Even if you could get out of your impossibly tight bounds you didn’t stand a chance. The zip ties bite into the skin of your wrists and ankles as your joints move, testing them. 

You just had to hope you could survive long enough to tire him out. 

“What’s the matter Lloyd?” you asked, eyes meeting his in a challenge “Some girl tell you that mustache makes you look like a pedophile?” 

You knew taunting him wasn’t the smartest idea, he was very obviously a loose cannon, but if beating your face bloody was the worst he was going to do, you could manage. 

As if to prove your point, the heel of his hand made contact with the bridge of your nose, eliciting a loud crunch as the bone broke on impact, causing blood to pour from your nose like a faucet. 

You saw stars briefly as he got to his feet. “Don’t worry, cupcake, I’ll make sure you’re nice and recognizable when he finds you back at home in a dead heap on the porch” 

As he spoke, he pulled a switchblade from his pocket and your heart slammed in your chest. You didn’t know how long you had been gone, how long you had been here, or how long it would be before he caused enough bodily harm for you to start to really panic. 

Lucky for you, Lloyd was big on the grandstanding; especially when he knew you weren’t going anywhere. 

“Wouldn’t that be something?” Lloyd asked as he sat back down in his chair “I could give us matching wounds” he held up his hand and you realized he had been missing two fingers.

You said nothing, trying to breathe through the pain of your broken nose as he continued; taking a hammer from one of his minions. 

“Did he tell you about Prague?” He asked, rocking the hammer back and forth between his hands.

“You mean did he tell me about how you killed Don Fitzroy?” you asked, “Yes, he told me”

“Would have killed him too” he muttered 

You scoffed with a laugh “You could certainly try” 

“Thought for sure he’d bleed out in that damn fountain” 

You frowned with a realization; Lloyd had been the reason Six had shown up on your doorstep that night. 

As your mind processed the fact, you felt Lloyd’s hand close around your bound wrist, not really realizing what he was doing until it was too late. One swift swing and the hammer came down hard on two of your fingers, fragile bones, crunching against steel as they separated. 

You groaned, mindful not to scream, chin tucked into your chest as your eyes squeezed shut as long as your broken nose would allow. Tears stinging your eyes as you looked back up, Lloyd very obviously pleased with himself. 

“That was you.” you said simply, breathing through the screaming ache “So that’s what this is” you nodded understanding 

“What?” Lloyd scoffed pacing in front of you “Don’t pretend like you know what this is” 

You laughed as much as your pain would allow “It’s revenge, because he kicked your shit in and did a better job at it” 

You watched as he set the hammer down, picking back up the switchblade. “It all makes sense now,” you said, your voice low  “You know you can’t beat him, you tried and you failed, so why not go after someone smaller?” 

“Think you’ve got me all figured out huh?” He asked, pressing the tip of the cool steel against your collarbone. 

You rolled your eyes “You’re not that complex Lloyd, you’re pathetic” 

You winced, feeling the blade pierce your skin as he sliced across your shoulder. “Hmm” You groaned as you took in a deep breath through clenched teeth, dropping your head for a beat before chuckling softly leaning back in your chair “He is gonna tear you apart” 

“You keep saying that, and yet…” 

His hand came down swiftly, blade of the knife burying itself in your thigh; that scream you’d fought so hard to hold back ringing through the room as you threw your head back trying to breathe. Lloyd laughed appreciatively next to you as he pulled the blade back out making you gasp trying to find your breath. 

“He’ll be here” you whispered, swallowing hard; trying to convince yourself more than Lloyd at this point. 

“Oh, I’m counting on it”

This time the blade buried itself deep in your shoulder, again making you cry out against your will as he pulled it free.

This carried on for what felt like an eternity, stab after stab, slice after slice.

He stopped to give himself a break, your breathing was shaky and shallow as you tried to calm yourself down, slow your heart rate, keep the blood from pumping too hard.

The next two…maybe three? Sliced your ribcage and you had given up on keeping your composure, your head hung as you cried, tears dripping off the end of your nose. 

“That would be serendipitous wouldn't it, killing you both with the same knife?” Lloyd’s voice was cool and measured over your head "Had enough?"

You ran your tongue between your lips, swallowing hard before he jerked your head up; you just glared at him

“Well?” he asked 

You were fighting to keep from passing out, you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction if you could help it. 

“Go fuck yourself” you whispered, your eyes slipping closed. 

“I don’t see boy wonder anywhere” Lloyd quipped “Maybe he decided you’re just not worth it after all” 

You didn’t answer, just focused on your breathing. Now you had an idea of how Six must have felt that night he stumbled through the front door. How he had managed it you’ll never understand. 

A commotion outside caught Lloyd’s attention and he leaned over the back of the chair next to your ear “Ohh, maybe I spoke too soon hmm?”

You hoped against all hope. 

“Let's give him a show, shall we?”

Lloyd buried the tip of his finger into one of the gashes on your arm, making you scream in pain. 

The gunfire rang off the walls as someone got closer. 

Lloyd stayed behind you, using your body as a shield. 

The last of his minions dropped to the floor like a sack of potatoes as Six appeared in the doorway. 

“Thank God” you whispered, letting yourself relax as much as you could. Your eyes met his across the room, you could only imagine what you looked like, but his composure didn’t falter. 

“And here he comes to save the day” Lloyd sneered. “It's about time you got here…almost cut your girl to pieces”

“I told you he would kill you” you whispered letting your head drop, feeling dizzy. 

“Let her go, Lloyd, this has nothing to do with her” 

“Put the gun down and I'll consider it”

Their voices sounded muffled and far away as you tried to fight to stay awake. 

A sharp stab in your thigh as Lloyd buried the knife there and left it as he walked around the chair. 

“Hold on to that for me would ya?”

All you could do was scream in pain, tears streaming freely down your cheeks before you slipped away.

#fic #sierra six x reader #ryan gosling #the gray man 2022 #courtland gentry x reader #courtland gentry #lloyd hansen #chris evans #n sfw #sierra six

[chvnnie]

Stars

lee minho x reader

word count: 3.2k

genre: smut, fluff - MINORS DNI

warnings: non-idol au, themes of depression/anxiety (reader is super sad), a touch of angst, light fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex (can we not), dirty talk, minho is very possessive but what's new? marking, reader also is a lil possessive, i think that's it? if i missed anything, PLEASE LET ME KNOW.

summary: is a wedding really worth all this suffering?

kofi request: reader is going through a depressive moment & they proceed to have desperate, angsty, needy sex where member "fucks the pain away".

a/n: yeah no this is definitely the same minho from different and eternally. this is just a continuation of the reader's love story with him and i'm soft

this is a work of fiction. this fic in no way represents lee minho as a person or stray kids as a whole. you are responsible for the media you consume. please read responsibly.

taglist: @lix-ables, @rachalixie, @agustd-essert, @gibbysupremeacyisreal, @katieraven, @miamormi, @woahfruity, @isilentprincess, @hugs4chan, @stranger-thighs, @beautifulcolorgarden, @scottmcallisdaddy, @whatudowhennooneseesyou, @raspbinniecreme, @humayraaaaa

Your head hits the wooden table with a thud, the pink binder softening the blow. Pressure builds at the point of impact, the soft throbbing sensation at the front of your forehead an almost welcomed alternative to the sharp headache you currently have. You focus on the thuds of the throbbing, counting each one as you lay slumped against the table.

There are seven days in a week, between twenty eight to thirty one in each month, and today, two days before you had to put a deposit down on a venue, was the day that everything decided to fuck up. Minho left hours ago for a “work emergency”, leaving you to make all the annoying phone calls with a kiss and a promise to be home as soon as he could. It’s impossible to get a hold of anyone, and then when you do, it’s like pulling teeth trying to get an answer from them.

No, they won’t have time to offer a second tour today. No, they’re not sure when they will have the time. Maybe they’ll call you back within the next week. Oh, you need this done in two days? Why didn’t you call earlier?

You did. You did call earlier. In fact, both you and Minho, AND your planner had called multiple times during the past month, trying to squeeze in just to check out a few little details. Like damn, we get it, wedding season is busy, but you can’t let three people in for less than thirty minutes to make sure this is the place they want to wed? 

Fuck, they’re really hanging a cloud over what should be the happiest day of your life.

In no way did you think planning a wedding would be easy. You’ve watched countless friends get married, been involved in more weddings than you could remember. You know that the planning period is the most difficult, overwhelming part of it all. You were prepared for immense frustration and never ending tears.

But you didn’t think you would feel so sad during the whole thing.

There was no one on this earth that you would rather spend forever with than Minho. The two of you share a connection that is more than earthly, more than spiritual. It’s a deep bond that twirls around your bodies, binding you together in a dark brown silk and making the two of you one. There’s a warmth that only he gives you, a comfort that only comes from his embrace.

All you want is to marry him. To celebrate the love you share for each other with the people you care about the most.

Then, why is this so fucking hard?

When Minho slipped the emerald ring on your finger, the last thing you expected the upcoming months to contain was a nagging sadness that just wouldn’t go away. This is supposed to be one of the most exciting times of your life, and you’ve spent half of it curled in a ball, sobbing, the stress of it almost unbearable.

You want to marry Minho. You’re more than sure of that. 

So then why are you so sad?

The front door opens, Minho’s voice echoing through the entryway as he speaks quickly to someone on the phone. He seems rushed — not bothering to untie his shoes before wiggling his feet out of them, slipping on the tile floor as he glided to where he left you. You roll your head to the right, catching a glimpse of him comically hopping on one foot as he tries to remove the sock from the other. He’s still chatting away as he switches feet, leaving his socks by the fireplace as he zooms to where you sit on the couch.

“Thank you so much.” He sounds out of breath, quickly ending the call before throwing his phone on the couch. Cupping your face, he brings you in, pecking your lips over and over until he can pull a small giggle from you. “I have good news.”

You quirk an eyebrow at him, tilting your head in his hands. “What?”

“There’s a wedding at one of the venues tonight.” His words are still rushed, and judging from the breath that fans over your face, it’s from all the coffee he’s consumed within the past two hours. “Large event, I’m talking close to 450 people.”

You can’t even begin to process how anyone knows that many people, chest filling with the annoying sadness at his words. There was a couple getting married tonight in a venue you desperately want, and you can’t even get in for a quick tour? “Oh. Okay-“

“Like that’s a ton of people. More than we know combined.”

Unsure of what to say, you simply nod your head, waiting for him to get on with it.

“So I was thinking, if they’re unwilling for us to get one last look, why don’t we sneak in?”

You blink at your fiancé, jaw dropped just an inch as your mind spins with his suggestion. “You want us to crash a wedding?”

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly say crash-“

“What if we get caught?”

“With that many guests? Baby, they’ll have no idea. We’ll just blend in with the crowd. It’s not like we would be there long; just enough time to get a good scope of the place and then we’re out.”

As much as you hate the idea, he makes valid points. You two would be in and out in less than an hour, and what’s two extra people in a crowd that large? Besides, it might be nice to see the venue during a wedding instead of staged. It will give you a better idea of how to plan things.

When you sigh and click your tongue, a triumphant smile spreads across his face. Minho bounces onto his feet, quickly gathering his things as he heads towards the stairwell. “I need to iron my suit, but do you think you could be ready by 8:00? I want to slip in mid reception so we’re less noticeable.”

Giving him a nod, Minho blows you a kiss before he rushes up the spiral staircase, all but running to the master bedroom. You stare at the open binder in front of you, the neat to-do list barely checked and staring at you. Waiting for your next move. Pricking you with a sense of dread that makes your small sadness painful — tenderly bruising you.

///

It’s a beautiful space. Truly, it is.

The venue is old, dating back to the beginning stages of the country, only renovated when absolutely necessary over the years. Both the flooring and ceiling are original, as are most of the pillars that support the building. The best part, one that’s a million times more stunning now that the sun has set, is the wide glass ceiling in the reception hall. On a clear night like tonight, all the stars are visible, buzzing with excitement and blessing the couple below them.

Neck craned, you stare up at the stars, watching the way they twinkle and shine. In them, you start to imagine your own wedding. The lace of your dress against your arms, the flowy gown brushing against your legs as you walk. Minho, in his attire, with a smile that rivals the stars for beauty, and he’s looking right at you. Only at you, even in a room full of people and a sky full of beautiful stars.

That. That’s the moment you want. The moment you’re waiting for. The moment you’ll want to freeze time to relive over and over again.

Your mind flashes with images of the to-do, reminders to send our invitations. When’s your next dress appointment? Fuck, have you found a photographer yet? Why hasn’t the florist gotten back to you?

You breathe heavily, lips trembling as you try to hold back tears. Minho was right, you fit perfectly in the crowd. Nobody has spared either of you a second glance or questioned your relationship to the couple. The last thing you want is to catch unwanted attention, for someone important to realize that you don’t fit in here. So you bite your lip, hard, trying to count all the stars you see tonight.

An arm loops around your waist, the familiar scent of Minho washing over you as he pulls you into him. “So,” he places a kiss on your temple “what do we think?”

“It’s nice.” Your voice cracks as you speak, turning your gaze to your fiancé.

There’s no use hiding your emotions from Minho. He catches on immediately; using the hold he has on your waist, he pulls you into a hug. Face hidden against his shoulder, the tears finally begin to fall as you grip onto his suit jacket.

“What do you need?” He whispers into your hair.

“Wanna go home, Min.”

As quickly as he can, without garnering too much attention, he guides you through the busy hall, taking you straight to the car. He helps you in the passenger seat where you shakily curl into a ball, leaning against the door as your depression takes over your senses.

Minho speeds through the night, dodging slow cars on the highway to get you home as soon as he can. He knows you better than you know yourself — he’s fully aware of the toll that planning this wedding has taken on you. As much as he’s tried to help, he knows there are things that he can’t assist with, leaving him to watch the stress pile up and weigh you down.

The car slows as you approach the stoplight just outside your neighborhood. He hasn’t heard you cry in a while, giving him confidence to reach out and grab your hand. 

“Almost there, my love.”

You let him lace his fingers with yours, squeezing tightly for the rest of the drive. Finally, the car comes to a complete stop just outside your house. 

Minho jokes that this home was the best financially irresponsible decision he’s ever made. Everyone teased the two of you for months as you house shopped; isn’t it too early to buy a house? You’ve only been together for a year and a half, shouldn’t you start with an apartment first?

“You don’t get it.” He told Chan one day when he thought you were out of earshot, punching his older friend’s arm. “She’s not just anybody. She’s my somebody, man. She’s already my home.”

That was four years ago. Four years ago, Minho was confident that this was more than a college sweethearts thing. This relationship was the only one that was ever going to matter in his life; it was a forever thing. Hearing him say those things to Chan when everything was still brand new was what pushed you to sign the lease. To pack up your limited belongings and move in with him. This home is where your love story truly began.

Looking at it now, the stars and moon offer just enough of a glow to help you make out the details — the windows, the patched up hole from where Seungmin and Minho hit a baseball into the siding, the front door — should relieve you. Should lift the stress off your shoulder.

Instead, it makes you cry harder. God, why can’t you just be happy? You have everything you could possibly want, and yet, you’re still sad. There’s still a pain in your chest that just won’t leave, no matter how hard you try. And for what reason?

“My love.” Minho whispers, reaching over the console to rub your back. “Can you take a breath with me?”

You nod your head, even if the hiccups you’re releasing prove that you really might not be able to. Softly, he counts to three, making you breathe in with him, then counting to five as you release the breath. Over and over he counts until your hiccups have subsided, heart beating a little more evenly.

“Are you ready to talk about it?”

Minho knows. You’ve told him several times that the weight of planning this wedding is getting too overbearing. You’ve cried in his arms in the early hours of the morning, stressing over little details that people keep hounding you about. But hearing you now, describing every detail of your sadness and pain rips his heart to shred. 

He knew it was taking a toll on you, but not to this extent.

Once you’ve released every thought, does he speak again, thumb rubbing the back of your hand. The tender flesh of his finger presses into the hard stone on your ring. It cuts into it just enough to send a jolt of pain up his arm, reminding him of the weight of all of this. “Do you still want to marry me? Because if this is all too much, we don’t have to do this.”

It’s not the question, but the tone of his voice that just shatters you. The slight wobble to his words, raspy and threatening to break.

“Of course.” You answer quickly, cupping his cheek with the hand he isn’t holding. “God, Minho, that’s all I want. All I’ve ever wanted was to be your partner forever.”

He swallows while nuzzling into your hand, eyes shutting as a tear rolls down his cheek. “I just wanted to make sure. So what can we do? How can we make this easier on you?”

It’s a tough question, and no matter how hard you think right now, you can’t come up with an answer. The pain is just too much, consuming your brain and not letting you think about anything else.

“I just want to be with you.” You whisper, pressing your forehead to his. Minho lets go of your hand, copying you and placing it on your cheek. “I just wish this pain would go away.”

Your words resonate with him, chest vibrating with just a taste of the hurt you’ve felt the past couple of weeks. If only he could take it away, distract you with something else, even if just for a few moments.

The first kiss is careful. Barely touching yours, his lips move slowly, humming at the taste of your lipgloss. The second is a bit deeper as you begin to kiss him back, mimicking his motions and tilting your head a bit. By the third kiss, it’s deeper than ever, quick with an urgency to taste the other. To breathe in the other’s scent and let it consume one another.

Minho’s free hand lands on your hip, nudging you in his direction just an inch. You pick up on what he wants, climbing over the console and into his lap. Knees on either side of his thighs, you hold onto his face as he pushes the seat back to give the two of you more space. 

“Let me help.” He breathily whispers between kisses. “Let me fuck your pain away, darling.”

He affirms his request by biting your lip, pulling back and letting go before his kisses move to your jaw. 

“Please.” Your voice is shaky, but no longer with sadness. With need. If there’s something you can never get enough of, it’s Minho. “Please, make me feel better, Min.”

The hands on your hips bunch the material of your dress, beginning to hike it up as your head rolls back to give him better access to your neck. Your hands fumble to his belt buckle, shakily undoing it and moving to the button of his slacks.

“Wanted you all night.” He grunts against your neck at the feeling of the light touch of your hands against his growing erection. “You look so fucking good in this dress, baby. Could’ve taken you in the middle of that wedding.”

Both his words and the feeling of his fingers against your clothed clit make you gasp, back arching the tingling that’s covering your legs. 

“All I could think of is how good you’ll look in white.” He moves out of your neck, chin resting on your cleavage as he looks up at you. The fingers sneak into your panties, immediately moving to tease your hole. “How everyone is going to look at you and know you’re all fucking mine.”

Without warning, he pushes two fingers into you, moaning along with you as the digits fill you up. He doesn’t stop until he’s knuckles deep, and then doesn’t even bother to pull out fully. Just hammering into you harder and harder.

Minho hissed when your hand comes in contact with his cock, harder than he thinks he’s ever been. It’s a little ridiculous how needy the thought of you being his forever person makes him; cock painfully throbbing as it screams to be inside you. 

If only he knew you thought the same. When you think about a lifetime with Minho, it doesn’t feel like enough. Time is too short, forever isn’t long enough. Even eternity can’t compare; you need him until universes cease to exist, until all the stars burn out and explode and then some.

“Fuck me.” You moan, unable to take just his fingers any longer. “I need to feel you.”

His lips crash against yours, this time in a more desperate, aggressive fashion. Like you’re devouring each other’s faces as you pull his cock out completely and lift your hips. Minho grabs your hips, swallowing all the moans you give him as he sits you on his length.

There’s no time to take things slow; the windows steam with your shared heat as you quickly begin to bounce on him.

“Tell me.” You whine as your head rolls back. “Tell me you’re mine.”

He chuckles, arms wrapping around your back and pulling you flush against his body as he begins to bite the swells of your breast. “Oh honey. I’m always all yours.”

The car fills with a beautiful melody of moans and skin against skin. Neither of you can take your hands off each other; yours pulling on his hair while Minho’s keep you steady, helping you bounce on his cock with ease. 

It’s in this moment that you realize none of it matters; the pain has eased and the sadness is nothing more than an annoying speckle that’s easy to flick away. So what if planning has been a nightmare? You would relive the nightmare over and over again as long as you always end up with Minho in the end.

Good thing he refuses to let the nightmare continue, tip of his cock hitting your g-spot in a way that has you seeing stars.

“Fuck, Minho!” You cry, trying to move your hips faster to get more of him.

“That’s it, baby, scream my fucking name.” He says with a laugh that gives you the chills. It sounds so possessive, so claiming. “Let everyone know who you get to spend eternity with.”

It doesn’t take much more before you’re hitting your highs together, curses and praises mixed together as you milk each other. Your head lolls back, staring up out the sunroof as you try to ground yourself by counting the stars. Minho’s cheek rests against your chest, kissing the bruised skin as he attempts to catch his breath.

The idea hits him hard, eyes squinting shut as he kicks himself for not thinking of it before. Not moving from the very comfortable resting spot on your breast, he breathily breaks the silence. “What do you think about eloping?”

©: chvnnie 2022

#stray kids smut #skz smut #straykidsland #lee know smut

[justadumbasskid]

RimWorld Writing | Valley Station 1

She had been in here all day. Every day for the past four days, at least. Mei, the group’s resident combat Mechanitor, and a damn fine one at that. During the time of the First Factory, she had commanded two militors, two bellicors, one omicron, two knights, two centipede blasters, and a War Queen. All had eventually been scrapped to make way for their successors, or had been sold along with the First Factory, but still, an impressive resume. Now, in the time of Valley Station, she crouched low in front of a huge Archotech pylon. One of four towers on the North, East, South, and West surrounding a great Archotech structure in the middle. The cluster of Archotech artifacts emitted a constant psychic pulse that tugged on the seams of any psychically-tuned brain nearby. Volz was particularly sensitive to its influence, and suppressed a groan as a headache bloomed inside her skull.

“Mei,” Volz called from the sunlit slate doorway of their great temple, Mei was pulled from her musings and turned her eyes away from the glowing Archotech structure to her companion. Volz held a packaged survival meal in her hand and beckoned for Mei to take it. “You’ve been spending too much time here, Mei, even you need to eat sometime.”

Mei clutched at the plackart of her marine-issue power armor, and looked away, “I’m not hungry…” A common response from her, as she’s equipped with a miniturized nuclear reactor instead of a stomach. Volz shook a canteen in her other hand as a response.

“Water, then. I can hear your dehydration.” Volz’s lips crooked into what she hoped was a reassuring smile as she rolled her Archotech eyes playfully. With the popping crackle of stiff bones (they really needed to get bionic legs sometime) Mei stood, and gratefully accepted the offered water. She drank deeply, and summoned the courage to turn her attention away from their collective object of worship to speak to Volz.

“I just…does it not intrigue any of you? The mystery of its use to the Archotechs? How it relates to the great Archonexus? I can’t focus on anything else for long, I always find my mind wandering back to it. It calls to me. Please, tell me you’ve heard it!” Mei babbled just barely-coherently. She’s an intimidating figure with her power armor and Mechcommander helmet, but she appears weak as a kitten compared to the glorious Archotech artifact standing tall above her. Volz placed a reassuring hand onto Mei’s armored shoulder, hopefully calming the volatile mechanitor. 

“We’ve all heard it,” Volz assures, guiding Mei’s head so she can only focus on her pair of artificial eyes, “We didn’t build this temple around it to hide its influence from us, such a feat would be impossible, and pointless. We built this because it told us to, it commands our respect and attention. We built this temple to revere the glory of the Archonexus, and all this artifact represents.” 

“But..?” Mei whispered, guessing Volz’s next line of speech. Volz nodded.

“But, we’re of no use to the Archonexus when we’re starving, dehydrated, and dead. I’m not saying that there are more important things going on right now than our holy mission, but we need to focus on the basics regardless.” Volz pressed the crinkling paper packaged meal into Mei’s limp hands, forcing her to hold it, “Eat, drink, and sleep. The Archonexus favors us enough that it has provided these opportunities to us, we would be wise to make use of them while we can.” Mei looked down at the parcel in her hands before taking Volz into a hug. Her exoskeleton-enhanced strength threatens to crush Volz’s just under-enhanced body, but soon relents before breathing becomes difficult. She moves past Volz and out into the fleeting sunlight of dusk.

“Thank you, Volz. Perhaps the greatest boon the Archonexus gave unto us is your wisdom.” Mei tears into the package soon after, and leaves Volz alone in the temple. 

An aching throb in her skull pulls her attention back to the huge glowing greenish-yellow structure before her, and the intricate circuitboard-like patterns of pale yellow etched onto the sleek lime surface. Volz inches closer to the humming Archotech structure, and with her enhanced Archotech eyes, she imagines that she can almost see the individual packets of light traveling through the atto-thin wires.

Volz thinks to herself for a moment…her chores are done, she has eaten dinner, surely she can spare an hour or two of study before bed. 

So she travels past the Western Pylon, and takes a kneeling position above the Northern pylon. Pressing her organic hand against the lime structure, she begins to meditate. Opening her mind, and inviting Archotech wisdom to enter it.

------------------------------Buffer ---------------------------

A little writing based on the colony from this post, and all of my RimWorld posts before that one, relating to the current playthrough.

#rimworld #rimworld writing #tumblr writing #writing #ludgeon studios #volz is the wisest because she's also a psycaster #and our ideology is psychic-focused #as well as Archist #I will use #just a thousand commas #I pass the bechdel test

[masterwords]

running toward nothing

Summary: Hotch is injured in an explosion while on overseas assignment, putting Derek in a difficult position both with the team and with Spencer who has spent the last few months inadvertently falling in love with him.

Warnings: explosion, injuries, headache

Words: 3.6k

Pairings: Hotch/Morgan established

Notes: This is for @tobias-hankel' s Spencer Whump Challenge. My assigned prompts to do my evil with were Derek Morgan & Betrayal, and if you know that going in... well I'm sorry. I am truly hoping this is just two parts, but let's just say we'll play it by ear. We have a long way to go before Spencer is truly whumped, huh?

Read on AO3: Running Toward Nothing

****

Spencer felt the first twinge behind his eye the minute Dave stepped out of his office and onto the catwalk. Opening his mouth as he leaned over the railing to announce that Hotch's plane had landed, the twinge turned into a sharp stabbing pain, there and gone in an instant. Shrugging it off, Spencer nodded and got up with the intention of letting Derek know.

The twinge in his eye became a dull throb in his forehead at the sight of Derek's closed door, lights off. For three months, two weeks and four days (hours give or take) Spencer had been the focus of Derek's attention. They'd been having dinner together almost nightly, carpooling, Spencer had a key to Derek's front door. That he would leave without saying a word seemed almost impossible...but there it was. Hotch was back, and if what Dave said was to be believed, in bad shape.

(x)

Penelope had intercepted the information. She hadn't meant to, but since the little hacking incident when Kevin was considering a highly confidential job in Karachi, she'd managed to keep that on the radar in case it popped up again. Like a nervous tick for a while, and then it settled into the back of her mind, completely forgotten until she saw the word Karachi on her screen. Just a blip, a flight coming in direct to Quantico. That didn't seem right, it didn't just happen and some nagging feeling in her gut told her that it was not just a coincidence that she saw it when she did. Not sure what to do with the information, or if it really was anything at all, she kept it quiet. If it really was something, they'd all know soon. And if it wasn't, well she wasn't supposed to know anything about anything and she'd rather not get in trouble again.

The way Rossi kept glancing at her while they ate lunch in the round table room told her what she feared wasn't silly. They'd all been eating in there as of late, as often as they could, the smaller the team had gotten the more they tried to band together. Now it was nearly full again, and Rossi was looking for a break in conversation...a moment that he could make an announcement that was killing him. He'd been eating Tums, not his sandwich, and that told her what he was about to say was bad and it all screamed Karachi at her. He looked pale; this wasn't just bad it was bad bad. She wished she had a Tums too.

When everyone's mouths went full and quiet, he spotted his opening.

“There isn't any good way to share this kind of news, so I hope you'll forgive me for being blunt.” He paused anyway, made sure he had everyone's attention and Penelope nodded at him, letting him know that she was at least somewhat aware...she'd seen. He figured as much. “Hotch was injured in an explosion overseas,” he was careful not to say Karachi but Penelope felt it in her bones. He lost himself in the dead silence and found it hard to continue around the lump in his throat. “It's bad. Happened about a month ago. The job, as you know, is confidential so there was no alert...it never happened...” That last part came out with characteristic Rossi sarcasm and frustration. He sighed. “It's been touch and go, but he was stable enough to make the flight home. It arrives here at the Quantico airstrip tonight at 4pm. He'll be taken to Georgetown immediately...I don't know more than that right now.” So please don't ask, that's what he meant to say but didn't have the heart.

Of course, they all had questions but none of them dared to go there, they maybe didn't want whatever answers Rossi could provide and just kept quiet. All except Emily, whose eyes had gone wide and bright. “Is he going to be okay?” She knew that was the most childish way she could have said it but “is he going to make it?” sounded too damn awful. She thought of the way he protected her, that this was how he kept her secret and kept her safe and she wanted to put her fist through the table. Or his face.

“You'll know when I know.” That felt like a damn lie, she figured, but his vault when it came to Hotch was sealed airtight.

(x)

The dull throb started pounding without mercy when Spencer's phone buzzed against his thigh. Staring into Derek's office, the plants glistening in the dark, he felt something surge through him. Hot like anger but more than that. He couldn't think of the right word, his mind had gone white hot. The buzzing at his thigh a second time startled him from the pain. The first had only been an email from Dave that he didn't want to read, it probably had to do with Hotch and he didn't want to know anything, not yet. The second was a text from Derek asking him to please stop by his house after work to let Clooney out into the backyard for a bit. There was subtext there, he was at the hospital, he was with Hotch. He didn't need to say it, and it certainly shouldn't have surprised him.

Grab yourself some takeout and sit with him for a few, yeah? Feel free to snag a beer and sleep over if you want...I'll give you some cash tomorrow. Thanks buddy.

Buddy. Buddy. He pressed the heel of his palm into his eye socket and saw stars. Buddy.

(x)

The hospital was quiet, or at least everything that went on outside of Hotch's quiet room seemed to fade into a sort of background noise that Derek didn't register. He stared at Hotch in the bed, roughly a month out from an explosion that took his mobility and his eyesight. Temporarily, they kept assuring him. Just a few weeks out from a crude hip surgery, nothing like he would have gotten at home but given that his station was highly confidential, and he'd been living out of a tent for months, it was holding. The surgeons were top notch and the hospitals were good but they weren't there for comfort and they had to push him through quickly. They had options in the future. Opening him back up felt like a wallop to the gut, a step backward, and his hip being crushed was really the least of his concerns. His eyesight, that would be a matter of time, simply waiting. Derek was, justifiably, most concerned with the way Hotch looked at him and didn't seem to really know who he was.

That wasn't entirely the truth, though. Hotch did know, but sometimes his thoughts were crystal clear and sometimes they were scattered and washed out. Everything was there but none of it fit together. His mind was a beach after a great storm, memories scattered in the sand and surf, partially buried. It was a treasure hunt. In those moments of confusion his eye (the other was taped under thick gauze) went faraway and Derek longed to know what was going on in there. Sometimes he was there in the hospital, and he knew about the Humvee that had blown to bits one hundred yards away. Just a football field between he and molten metal. He remembered the way the air stilled and then pressed hot against him, forced him in the opposite direction. He remembered his feet pounding the hard sand as he tried to find safety, listening to the screams of people who hadn't been so fortunately far away. He remembered hearing the wheel screaming through the air before it slammed into him, throwing him sideways and knocking him out. He didn't remember anything between that and waking up in the medical tent with pain he couldn't account for.

“Where is here?” Hotch asked, blinking himself awake for the second or third time that hour. He couldn't seem to keep from falling asleep. The drugs in this hospital were stronger than he'd been used to, and though they couldn't seem to touch the throbbing in his hip or the wailing pain in his head, they did make him sleep through it. Derek was beside him, ever dutiful, and sometimes he understood that it was because there was something there...love, he recognized it, but that felt far away, like it belonged to someone else.

“Georgetown,” Derek replied for the second or third time that hour. Each time it was met with a scowl and each time he smiled at that, because that was Hotch. He was still in there. “They're gonna let me break you outta here in a few days I bet.” Wishful thinking or lies, he didn't really dare to break it down.

(x)

Spencer's head hadn't stopped pounding since Hotch's plane touched down. He didn't mean to associate his pain with Hotch's return, but they were tied together inexplicably. He didn't know why and it was probably a fluke, but with the lights off and an ice pack resting on his forehead, he couldn't help but wish that Hotch was still in Karachi. Of course he didn't want him hurt, nothing like that...just there. It should have been longer. He knew that was just as wrong, whether he was hurt or not, but he couldn't seem to move past it.

Three months. In that time, he and Derek had spent a lot of time together. He'd begun teaching, asking for reassignment from the BAU to somewhere that he could try to heal from the loss of Emily rather than just burying it in piles of work that only served to remind him of what he'd lost. Hotch deciding to take a post overseas had affirmed his decision...they all needed to figure some things out and her empty desk didn't help. Derek started leading the team, small as it was, and they had to make more of an effort to see each other when they didn't work in the same department.

Three months of dinners, of getting a key to Derek's house to care for Clooney when the now very small team had to leave town. Three months of the guest bedroom in Derek's house mostly belonging to him.

So, if his headache started the minute Hotch was back on US soil, and his headache continued while Derek pulled away from him...well how could he associate it with anyone or anything else? Derek wasn't pulling away, he supposed, not yet, but he hadn't heard from him outside of that one text message in a couple of days. Normally Derek would send him silly memes or ask him questions, invite him over to watch a movie...radio silence was deafening.

A knock at his door barely roused him from the darkness of the pit he'd been falling into. He glanced at his watch, squinted until it came into focus and almost thought he was dreaming. Who came to his place at 1am? Who came to his place at all? He'd passed out on the couch with his record player going, now just crackling and popping to let him know the album needed flipping...every light in the place was on, but that was nothing new. He slept that way.

“Hey kid,” Derek said, slouching in his doorway. Spencer moved out of the way to let him in, but Derek came only a little of the way inside. “I can't stay, I was just driving home and saw that your light was on...thought I'd say hi. It's been a rough few days.” Spencer smiled wearily and jammed his thumb against the throb in his temple.

“Fell asleep on the couch I guess. It's good to see you though.”

“You want to come over for dinner tomorrow night? I probably won't cook but I'll spring for take-out. Your pick.”

“I'd love to.” It was as simple as that. Derek never came any further in, and there was no ceremony over him turning and walking out the door. The lights stayed on the but the record was put back into it's sleeve and he went back to sleep on the couch. His headache didn't keep him awake.

(x)

Spencer's feet were kicked up on the coffee table, a sign of familiarity that he didn't often affect in another person's home. But he could here, he had a key, he practically lived here. More than that, he was in socks, toes wiggling in the warm dry air where the fire hissed and popped to keep them comfortable. The first frosts of winter were just settling in, the emerald blades of grass would be glittering and stiff in the washed-out gray of dawn. Derek sat on the same couch, though his feet were curled beneath his thighs while Clooney snored his dog dreams beneath him. His paws twitched and Spencer wondered if he was dreaming of the squirrel he'd chased into a tree earlier that night. Hours he'd spent, and he couldn't seem to make himself leave...this felt like home. The room was quiet, dizzying and sweet, and Spencer couldn't help but lose himself staring at the way Derek basked in the glow of the embers. It was late, he was sure he should leave but it was so nice there with Derek, so easy that instead of making the announcement that he'd be heading out, he drew nearer.

Derek didn't shy away, he let Spencer lean toward him happy and warm. “You wanna stay tonight?” Derek asked, his voice thick like honey dripping over Spencer's washed-out muted senses. He was two glasses of wine deep, which is more than a lot for him, it was basically unheard of. The orange chicken and rice sat like lead in his belly, holding him firm where he sat.

“Yeah, I probably should.” He was planning to take a cab, that was easy, but this was better.

He was already leaning toward Derek, thinking this is the moment, he's just been invited to stay the night and he was richly inundated with velvety red wine...it was now or never. (He didn't give even one thought to Hotch being in the hospital. He'd feel bad for that later, but it didn't cross his mind now.)

Now or never. That was all he could think. Like a skipping record, he felt it in his chest.

“Derek?” It was a familiar voice, rasping and raw from the darkened hallway. The sound of Clooney's tail thumping the floor broke Spencer from his reverie and a moment later Hotch came limping into the room all messy hair and squinty eyes. His hair really was everywhere, his features grim and drawn beneath shards of matted black. He was leaning hard on a crutch, barely putting weight on his right leg, hopping a little as he came to a stop. Derek jumped up from his perch on the couch and went to him. Just went right to him, drawn like a moth to a flame, he didn't even hesitate. His arms flew immediately to Hotch's sides, as if the crutch wasn't enough, and maybe it wasn't but still. He just left Spencer sitting there swimming in the moment that never was. He blinked stupidly, wondering if he really would have kissed Derek or if he would have chickened out.

“What are you doing up?”

Hotch blinked slowly at him, and Spencer could see that he was trying to sort out the situation. He saw Spencer on the couch, two glasses of wine, a fire and he could see it clear on Hotch's face...he thought this was a date. Date night. He used to have those but that was all fuzzy and gray. The room was fuzzy too, he really couldn't see well, everything was a mess of color and shape framed by blurry black nothing. Out of focus camera lenses.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered sadly. “You have company...I've interrogated you.” He frowned, that wasn't the word he was looking for. Spencer's stomach twisted in a knot, he hated seeing Hotch like this, but he was hardly paying attention. It was Derek he was watching. The way he was gently holding Hotch upright, waiting as he searched for the right word. “Interrupted, I mean.”

Derek let out a soft laugh and shook his head. “It's just Spencer...from work?” He added that last part with a nervous edge, wondering if he was crossing a line, making too strong an assumption. Sometimes Hotch was crystal clear, and sometimes it just took a little longer, a little slide sideways through the murk, before he could catch the recognition he needed. Muddled and shaken up, not gone.

Hotch squinted with the one eye not covered in gauze and nodded slowly. “Right. Spencer...hi Spencer. Good to see you.” Spencer forced a thin-lipped smile and waved; it was an awkward gesture that made him feel slimy after what he'd just been thinking about doing. Derek turned his attention fully back to Hotch and Spencer was able to let out the breath he'd been holding.

“Did you need something?”

“I...” he began, licking his dry lips with his dry tongue. “I was thirsty.” A look of complete bewilderment crossed his features, as if what came out of his mouth might not have been true. He knew it was though, he just didn't trust himself.

“I left a glass of water on your nightstand; did you see it?”

Spencer watched the interaction with some vague interest. It wasn't what they said that he cared about, but Derek's body language, the way he gently surrounded Hotch there, made sure he stayed steady on his feet. His voice was so quiet that Spencer almost couldn't make it out, filling him with an oddly itchy feeling. Like being a kid and spying on your parents in some adult moment, arguing in hushed voices or kissing in the hallway, nothing big but just not for your eyes. He pressed the heel of his hand into his right eye and breathed through the low throb that had appeared again. It had been quiet all night.

Hotch shifted and looked down at his feet, stared hard at his black and gray wool socks like the answer was there. His voice dropped to barely audible and almost sad. “I knocked it over.”

Derek nodded in that sagely way he had and didn't press further, and Spencer was thankful as they left the room. Back down the hallway, Hotch limping badly against the crutch with Derek's arm slung around his waist in a way that made Spencer's stomach twist. Hotch's hip was screaming at him for being upright, but it sort of just screamed and throbbed all the time no matter what he did. Sometimes he forgot why it hurt and those were the worst times. Right now, he remembered that much. The tire flying through the air, turning to run and the feeling of it slamming into him, knocking him to the ground as flame and shrapnel swirled around him. Each step reminded him with a sort of bright white clarity, but Derek's hand on the small of his back felt disconnected from anything here. That moment, that feeling was different and pleasant...they'd been at a beach somewhere in Florida with Jack, Derek's hands rubbing sunscreen all over his pale skin, dragging sand from the small of his back upward. He glanced over to take in the sight of Derek beside him, desperate to hold onto this clear moment, this piece of memory that Derek held firm against him with warm fingertips. The clarity was beautiful, but it brought with it the knowledge that it would fade into the gray fog again. He hoped it wouldn't stay away as long this time.

Back in bed, it was all Derek doing the work. Maneuvering his limbs, propping pillows in all the right places. He could do so very little for himself right now except get angry at his limitations and it took every ounce of energy he possessed not to take that anger out on Derek. “Do you want me to stay with you?”

“No,” he replied, closing his eyes. He felt his lashes drag against the inside of the gauze, damp with tears. He could take the gauze off, but the look Derek gave him when he saw his eye, that he couldn't bear. It burned under light, and he saw the world through a haze of red, easier to keep it shut away. “Goodnight.” He almost tried to say Derek's name but second guessed himself, worrying he'd get it wrong. He'd done it before and the look in Derek's eyes when he'd said the wrong name made his stomach hurt. Instead, he just settled with his eyes closed and willed the hours from now until his next dose of medication to pass without incident.

Derek collapsed into his place on the couch a different man than the one who had left. Spencer didn't think much of it, he too was a different man than he'd been before when the wine warmed his belly and made him think of kissing Derek. The sensation now was something else, something ugly. And his head hurt worse.

“I didn't realize he was out of the hospital yet,” he muttered with more than a little salt in his tone. Derek hadn't told him, kept that a secret. Maybe he wouldn't have said a word if Hotch hadn't come in looking for water. “Is he...”

“It's complicated.” Derek ravaged his face with his hands, dragging them up and down again like he was trying to rearrange his features. “Everything is right now.” He was trying to hold it together, but all at once his face seemed to crumble, fall and his eyes shone bright with what Spencer thought were probably tears.

“What can I do?”

If Spencer's hand fell into place on Derek's thigh as he asked, neither of them paid it much attention.

Next Chapter ->

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #spencer reid #hotchgan #criminal minds #fanfiction #may 2022 whump spencer reid challenge #hurt/comfort #angst #whump

[darkfeanix]

I sat here squinting at all the BG3 titles and I think it's gotta be Absolution. Reveal all!!

Absolution is going to be an undertaking. It started out as the unhinged Durgetash fic I've mentioned previously, and then I realised that I was doing too much backstory building (like, going back to the events of Baldur's Gate 1 and 2 level of backstory), and losing focus on what I wanted for that story, which was to indulge my kinks with two men in an unhealthy relationship. 😂

So I decided to change THAT story's name to Disciplined (also mentioned in the WIP meme; if you want to know more, feel free to ask about that one😜), and use all the backstory stuff to develop a new Durge named Schuyler. I then decided to combine it with another idea I've been turning around in my head for a while but never done anything with, which is a straight BG3 adaptation with a Gale romance. I decided to combine them because I conceived Schuyler as a Shadow Magic sorcerer, and I feel like the scene where Gale teaches the player character to touch the Weave would be really sweet for a character whose magic is drawn from the Shadowfell (possibly even from Shar's Shadow Weave, haven't decided yet).

I want this story to be more than just Durge/Gale, though; I want it to expand on character elements that are only briefly touched on in the story.

I've started chapter one of his BG3-era story (which I share an excerpt from below, under the cut), and I haven't decided yet if I want to roll back and start with his Durgetash era, or focus on the BG3 story and then go back to pre-game in a prequel. If I'm especially committed to it, I'd like to do a sequel with Schuyler and Gale in Waterdeep (synching it up with elements from the campaign book Waterdeep: Dragon Heist).

So yeah, that's the basic rundown on Absolution. Except the title, which I chose because obviously it's like a play on Absolute, but with the idea of working to make amends for past crimes (starting the cult, etc).

Please find an excerpt from chapter 1 below. Content warning for canon-typical violence and also The Dark Urge in general.

The man felt a dull, throbbing ache behind his right eye, not as bad as before, yet somehow more insistent. From somewhere in the depths of the man's mind came a word: imp. This was an imp. Something tried to link that realisation to another thought, but it couldn't quite connect. And in that moment, he couldn't focus on it, because unless he was very much mistaken, the imp had just murdered someone.

As he watched in mounting fear, the imp glided over to another of the coffin-like containers, and once more struck its inhabitant. That was when it occurred to the man that if it kept on as it was, then the imp would reach him very soon. As his heart raced in his chest, and his headache began to worsen again, the man resumed his desperate struggles against whatever invisible bonds held him. It made little difference, of course; he might as well have not been trying for all the progress he made.

The imp was onto the fourth container now. How many were left before it reached him? Two, or was it three? In his mind, the man tried to visualise the room, but it was impossible to concentrate through the pounding of blood in his head.

All too soon, the imp sprang onto the window of the man's prison, its small, clawed fingers tightening on the edge as it met his gaze. A nasty grin spread on its lips as it raised its tail, the stinger raised to deliver a fatal poison–

And in that moment the ache behind the man's eye vanished, along with the invisible bonds. He leaned his head aside at the last second, and the curved barb struck the back of the container with a light thump. Without any time to think, the man turned his head around and bit into the imp's tail with all the strength he could muster. His teeth sank deep, puncturing hard flesh and tough muscle. Hot, foul-tasting blood spilled onto his tongue and down his throat. With another sharp turn of his head, he dragged the imp partway into the container with him.

As the shock passed, the imp immediately began clawing at his face and neck, but the man hardly noticed these small scratches. For the first time since waking up, he could feel his thoughts beginning clear, and he knew what to do.

There was just enough room between his body and the inner wall of the container, allowing the man to force his hands up through the gap. With one hand he seized one of the imp's wings, and with the other he took it by the throat. It began to panic, shrieking in a language that the man wasn't familiar with, but he didn't pay it any mind as he squeezed. Only then did he spit out its tail to whisper a single word:

"Calhuan."

An icy chill gripped the man's heart, then surged up to his shoulders and down his arms. The imp's shrieks became howls of pain as lightning crackled between the man's hands, carving through infernal flesh and leaving burns that no fire could have inflicted. In only a matter of seconds, the imp fell still, apart from a faint twitch from lightning still arcing through it. Feeling invigorated, the man let go of the imp, letting it fall backwards out of the window of the container.

#feanix writes (sometimes)

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Palliate.

Pairing: Yandere!Witch/Reader.

Word Count: 3.7k.

TW: Emotional Manipulation, Amnesia, Obsessive Mindsets, Mentions of Violence, Blood and Bruising, Mentions of Death.

Mint, to settle your nerves.

That was the first thing he’d taught you, before you were strong enough to do anything more than sit on the edge of your bed and listen. Three leaves if you were desperate, two if you weren’t, and one if you just needed something to focus on, to take your mind off your own hazy thoughts and the places they tended to lead, when you let them wander freely. He said that was normal, that it should be expected. You’d spent so long incapacitated, it was only natural you’d be a little unsteady, once you finally got back on your feet. He said that it’d get better, over time, but you’d have to fight through it. You’d have to give yourself time to let it get better, even if there were little things you both could do to help.

The mint helped. Most of the time, at least. More than most little things did.

You tried to concentrate on the flavor, now, letting it distract you from the sun beating down on the back of your neck, from small bruises forming on your knees as you kneeled between rows of rue and sage and rosemary just far enough apart to let you tug at the weeds invading his otherwise pristine garden. It was a little odd to be outside the small cottage you’d become so closely acquainted with, even if you were only a few paces away, still hesitant to venture beyond the clearing you’d spent so much time observing while you were bedridden. You were still injured, technically, and you’d been told time and time again not to test your own limits. He said you should… You were sure you should be doing something, but—

“Didn't I ask you to rest?”

Right. That made sense.

You weren't supposed to get out of bed, just yet.

A hand came to settle on your shoulder, and reflexively, you glanced towards the man now lingering behind you. You really didn’t need to, though. His voice would’ve been enough, a calm drawl strung out into something playful, fondness coming easily and anger still a long ways off. He’d never gotten mad at you before, but the threat persisted. You didn’t want to be more of a nuisance than absolutely necessary, especially after he’d been so kind to you.

“There’s only so much sleep I can take,” You replied. You didn’t want to be a nuisance, but you didn’t want to spend the rest of your life in bed, either. “I’m starting to think that’s your only trick, uh...”

“Eden, love. Just Eden.” There was a pause, his sly smile turning sympathetic. “Is your memory acting up again?”

“It’s not as bad as it used to be.” You were telling the truth. For weeks, you’d barely been able to hold onto your own name, let alone anything about your eternally patient host. But, Eden (you tried to remind yourself of that, to make a note of it, Eden) was kind enough to give you time. You needed time. You needed patience. “I found the door, didn’t I?”

“And it’s nearly been a week since the last time you wandered into the forest,” He noted as he crouched at your side, earning a small, offended noise and an elbow to his bicep, just forceful enough to warrant a hum, a slight pout, something between a whine and a chuckle. You didn’t want to stare, but you let yourself watch as his expression softened, as his gazed flickered towards the sprout of basil at your feet and a shock of white hair fell over his eyes. He looked like he was going to reach towards you, like he was going to touch you, but he stopped himself, letting his hand slip down to the satchel at his waist, instead, calloused fingers running over the well-worn leather.

You wondered what he kept in it, sometimes. You’d never seen him without it, not willingly, and he spent so long in the forest every day, he kept himself so busy with so many traps and snares and spots of ink littered across hand-drawn maps, it would’ve been impossibly to guess what he thought was worth keeping by his side. He brought enough of it back, bundles of assorted feathers and glass jars full of golden pollen and other things, stranger things, things you could barely catch a glimpse of before they were shoved to the backs of cabinets and forgotten about, on your end, at least. Eden didn’t forget about such important things as quickly as you did.

“It’ll get better,” He went on, finally, just when you thought he’d stopped talking altogether. “And, if it doesn’t, we’ll find a way to make it better.”

He sounded so sure of himself. You wanted to believe him, when he sounded like that. You did believe him.

You couldn’t remember a time when you hadn’t.

~

Ginger, to alleviate migraines.

It wasn’t for you, luckily. Of all the ailments you suffered from, you’d been left mercifully exempt from headaches and vertigo and all those minor, awful things that would make your life just a little harder than it had to be. If anything, your head was always a little too light, a little too empty, especially after so many hours of following the same unpaved road with nothing to think about but the passing scenery and Eden’s vague instructions, little more than a list of names and goods. Little to go off of, despite his insistence that you be the one to go.

You’d asked why he didn’t just go himself the first time he sent you on your way with a basket of herbs and roots, but Eden had only frowned, shaking his head. He said he wasn’t welcome, not in the marketplace, not in a village that’d already come to know him by name. He said that, if you cared for him at all, you wouldn’t subject him to a full day of haggling in hushed tones with women who refuse to sell mediocre incense for anything less than a small fortune.

And since you did (foolishly) care for him, you went. Not that you were anymore wanted in the marketplace than he was.

You hated it, compared to the cozy isolation of Eden’s home. You hated how crowded it was, how alien it felt to have to navigate the cramped stalls, how the merchant in front of you scowled as he weighed small bags of the exotic, colorful spices Eden was so fond of, the ones that you could never seem to taste the way you were supposed to, judgingly by how liberally Eden used them. He didn’t try to hide the disdain in his voice as he spoke, aged weariness mixed with a self-righteous reluctant. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t used to it, that constant trepidation from people who didn't understand you, from people who didn't care for Eden. At least he was kind enough not to hide it. “Running errands for the witch hermit, again?”

“Eden’s not a hermit.” You tried to smile, to brush it off as if was just another misconception. He wasn’t. You weren’t sure what he was, but he liked people, he liked having someone else around. Or, he liked having you around, at least. He didn’t seem to care much about company, beyond that. “He just enjoys his privacy. We both do.”

“Only a witch, then.” There was a pause, a gruff laugh that didn’t match his grim disposition. Something in the back of your throat tightened, and silently, you wished he’d be a bit more wary of you. Just enough to keep him from speaking so openly. “I’d take what you can and go, if I were you. He takes after his father, and that man spent his whole life makin’ a monster of himself, playing with things no one should. His son ain’t much different.”

It was your turn to laugh, now. “He cries whenever he finds fawns separated from their mothers. He takes in tadpoles he finds puddles. I don’t think Eden is capable of cruelty.” He was a kind man. You’d never seen him be anything but kind. If he had an ulterior motive, if he had a single sadistic bone in his body, you had yet to find it. “He took me in, too, when I was injured. He might be the only reason I have a roof over my head, now. That’s not a kindness I can say very many people have showed me.”

His lips pursed, the barest hints of confusion crossing his expression. It was gone in an instant, and you tried not to linger on it. He thought poorly of Eden, but the mere fact that you were alive – walking and breathing and alive – was enough to earn him your gratitude. Regardless of what a merchant and a marketplace worth of gossip thought. You knew what you believed, you knew what was true, and you wouldn’t let a few rumors convince you otherwise.

Although, you’d be lying if you said that belief didn’t waver, as he went on. “Cruelty isn’t all you have to worry about.”

You opened your mouth. Then, you closed it again, keeping your eyes on the basket still hanging limply on your arm. He wasn’t done yet, not with the spices, not with his poorly veiled warnings, but you didn’t want to listen. You could listen, you would listen, but you didn’t want to. You didn’t want to believe anything you heard in such a crowded place, in such an awful place.

You just wanted to get back to Eden.

~

Willow bark, to take the pain away.

It’s more of a comfort than a necessity, by now. You used to need it, rely on it, and you still liked to keep a bundle nearby, just in case, for days where the soreness was worse than it should be and you needed something to take the edge off, to suppress that overwhelming ache back into a steady throb. But, you never needed it, not like you used to. Not like you had when your injury was a defining feature rather than an afterthought and Eden’s medical expertise was more of a experimental artform than a practiced skill.

His hands didn’t shake, anymore, as his fingers skirted over your bare skin, following along the outline of your wound, the trail of stitches that stretched from the bottom of your shoulder bone to the center of your rib cage and repeated itself, carrying over again and again and again, forming neat rows of tender flesh and scar tissue that refused to stop any higher than your hip bone. He wasn’t hesitant, not with the needle, not as he pushed it through the long-suffering spots where he’d first messily laid your stitches months ago, and he didn’t have to look at you to recognize the way you shifted, the soft string of expletives you let out, to notice your little attempts to turn your head at just the right angle, flinch at just the right time to—

“Eyes on the ceiling,” He demanded. With a small huff, you obeyed, turning back towards the furthest wall. “It’ll only get worse, if you look.”

You knew that. He’d said as much as thousand times before, once for every day he'd tended to your lasting wounds. You were tempted to try, to insist it was only fair that you got to know what was going on with your own body, but you trusted Eden, and it was easier to tilt your head back than to argue, to search the cluttered room for something more interesting than the boy sitting at your side and your own, nagging discomfort.

You were in his workshop, now, an area separated from the rest of the cottage and filled to the brim with the tools of Eden’s trade – blooming flowers permanently encased in blocks of amber, the shells of insects hollowed out and ground into a fine powder, pots, everywhere, some empty and some not, the largest placed over a smoldering hearth that never seemed to grow dimmer, despite how often Eden forgot to tend to it. There was something inside, a substance you didn’t recognize, bubbling and black as a starless sky. It was already solidifying around the edges of its cauldron, crystallizing into rows of jagged, silvery edges slowly creeping along the coaction's surface like an infection. Like a parasite. Like something that shouldn’t have existed but continued to, regardless.

Eden must’ve caught you staring. The needle stilled, and instead, he took to dabbing something cool and smooth around the edges of your scars. A rag, or a balm, or a dozen other possible remedies. You didn't try to look. “It’s for you,” He explained, as if that made it any better. “One of my father’s incomplete recipes. He never figured out how to stop it from hardening once it’s exposed to open air.” Eden clicked his tongue, pulling the thread he was working with taut, and you cringed, tying to ignore the slight pinch. It didn’t hurt, not really, not like it used to. It didn’t hurt at all, if you were being honest, but it felt like it should’ve. “The color isn’t right, either. And I’ve already fed enough dye into the damn thing to poison a small village.”

You should’ve laughed. You wanted to, you knew it was the reaction he was looking for, but it was all you could do to avert your stare, to let your fingers curl around the edge of the table he’d perched you on. "They really don’t like you.”

“I’ve noticed.” A blunt response, not abrasive, but not encouraging, either. Not as dismissive as you would’ve preferred. “And yet, they manage to stomach my cures regardless. It’s funny how quickly pain softens the heart, isn’t it?”

“They say it’s unnatural.” You were pushing, now. You should know better than to push. You never found out anything good, when you tried to push. “They say your father used to dabble in things that shouldn’t be.”

Eden sighed, pushing himself to his feet. There was a short silence, interrupted only by the sound of glass knocking against glass before he dropped what he was holding, stepping in front of you and cupping your face with both hands, instead, forcing you to face him, to meet his dark eyes. Black eyes. Lightless eyes. A contradiction when compared his tanned skin and warm smile. A contradiction you tried to overlook as he bent down, kissing the top of your head so gently, you could almost bring yourself to ignore it altogether.

“My father was a toymaker and a healer. My mother died in childbirth. He did what he could to take care of me, and there is nothing unnatural about that.” He took a moment to laugh, to hold you, and you couldn’t be help but be thankful for it. Only weeks ago, he’d been afraid to touch you, afraid to watch you break all over again. Now, it was all he could do to let you go long enough for his arms to fall to your waist, for your face to find his chest, his tunic, a place to hide yourself away from the rest of the world. You didn’t want to go back, not to the village, not to the marketplace, not to the lonely, hurtful, desolate world outside his cottage. You didn’t want to go back to a place filled with so many people so determined to separate you from Eden. You didn’t want to return to a life you couldn’t remember, one where you wouldn’t have the man who’d saved you by your side. “He loved his family, just as I love you.”

For once, you didn’t have to convince yourself to believe him.

~

Witch hazel, to stop the bleeding.

You’d need it. You’d need a lot of it, more than you should for such a small cut, a jagged line drawn from the corner of your eye to your opposite check, thin but deep and bleeding, pouring out, washing over your hands as you tried to clutch at your face and rub away the damage, like a child trying to blink away a bad dream. Your legs might’ve been bleeding, too, the sides of your ankles, the backs of your thighs, your skin scraped raw in all the places you’d hit the ground as you tripped, falling over your own feet at your stumbled backward, but you didn’t check, you didn’t want to check, you didn’t want to see how bad it was. You didn’t want to take your eyes off the man in front of you, his towering stature, his grim expression.

His sword, silver and unsheathed and pointed at your heart, as it had been from the moment he first caught sight of you.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. No one was supposed to be here, in Eden’s forest, only minutes away from the cottage you’d come to think of as your safe haven. He hadn’t asked for your name, he hadn’t mentioned Eden, he hadn’t said a word to you, not before there was a dagger flashing across your line of sight, a weapon quickly discarded for something more intimidating, something that’d let him stay at arm’s length while he approached you, his stare holding yours, his lips pulled into a thin frown. “I—” You tried, but your voice gave out quickly. You couldn’t remember the last time someone had threatened your life. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been so scared. “Please, I didn’t mean to get in your—”

“Stop talking.” His tone was flat, apathetic, the barest hints of rage seeping through a weathered veil of neutrality. Immediately, you fell silent. “Who said you had the right to use that voice?”

You opened your mouth, but you thought better of it, biting down on the inside of your cheek as you bowed your head. You wanted to get back to Eden, back to his cottage. You wanted to be anywhere but here. You wanted to run, but you wanted to get out of this with your head on your shoulders, too. “Are you going to kill me?”

“It will not be a true death.” There was a pause, a reluctant hesitation. You pulled your knees into your chest, your hand still pressed to your wound, but the gesture didn’t seem to earn you any pity. “But, I am going to make this—”

He stopped, abruptly, his head attention towards something behind you. You heard it a moment later – measured footsteps, barely making a sound against the dead leaves and branches that littered the forest floor. You didn’t turn around. You didn’t have to.

Not when there was only one person who’d ever bother to save you.

“Adam,” Eden called, already positioning himself at your side. His hand was already on his satchel, toying with the buckle. Like he’d done this, before. Like he already knew it wouldn’t resolve itself peacefully. “There are easier ways to introduce yourself. If you put that sword away, I’m sure (Y/n) could still find a way to forgive—”

“Do not call it by that name.” He was focused on Eden, now, leaving you to fade into the background, to observe as his hands began to shake and he glared, baring his teeth, as Eden had done more than try to play peacekeeper. “That is not (Y/n). It doesn’t deserve to pretend it is, none of your abominations do. It won't bring— It can't—” He trailed off, his sword falling back to his side, his eyes clenching shut. You almost felt bad for him, your would-be murderer, but Eden’s expression remained cold, unbothered. Slowly, almost idly, he reached down, taking you by the arm and helping you to your feet, letting you tuck yourself against him as Adam finally found his voice.

“(Y/n) is dead. Nothing you do can change that.”

A moment passed in silence, still, deathly, frigid silence.

Then, Eden spoke.

“I can handle this on my own.” He didn’t deny it. He wasn’t denying it. Why wasn’t he denying it? “I need you to brew tea, Chamomile. Gather as much lavender as you can on your way home, until your pockets are full and you can’t carry anymore. Can you do that for me, love?”

You nodded, but you were still shaking, still unsure, still so, so confused. You weren’t dead. You could breathe, and you could think, and you ate and you slept and you weren’t dead. “I’m not.” You didn’t know who you were talking to – Adam, still clutching his sword, still ready to behead whoever his blade could reach or Eden, your Eden, the gentle protector who hadn’t looked at you once since his arrival. You just wanted someone to say it wasn’t true. You just needed someone to say it wasn’t true. “I’m not. I’m alive. I’m not de—”

“I’m in love,” Eden said, his voice soft. As if he hadn’t heard you at all. “Why does everyone act as if that’s so monstrous?”

You didn’t want to hear Adam’s response. You didn’t want to hear anything, not from him, not from Eden, and certainly not from your own frenzied thoughts, racing and only growing louder as you ran, sprinting, stumbling through the forest in any direction your legs would carry you. A crooked sob racked over your chest, and reflexively, you moved to brush away the tears blurring your vision, but you couldn’t feel yourself when you should’ve, it wasn’t flesh that met your cheek. Your eyes darted to your hand, a sneer already playing at your lips for whatever mud or decaying foliage had plastered itself against your skin, but…

But, you found a small trail of crystals, instead, silvery-glass that coated your palm, rows of jagged edges that hadn’t been there before, that shouldn’t have been there, where your blood had stained your skin only minutes ago. Or, where you thought your blood should’ve stained your skin. You hadn’t looked.

You hadn’t looked.

You froze dead in your tracks.

Slowly, our raised a hand to your face, to the cut carved into it, to what should’ve been a bloody, bloody wound. Something jagged met your fingertips, but you ignored the slight sting. It didn’t hurt. Not as much as it should’ve. Not as much as you wanted it to.

By the time you pulled away, your hand was covered with it. Thick, cool, forming webs between your fingers as you spread them apart. Dark. A kind of dark you’d only seen once.

As black as a starless sky.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere prompts #yandere imagines #yandere oneshots #yandere scenarios #yandere oc #male yandere #yandere oc x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere ocs #yandere witch #yandere fantasy #yanderecore #yancore

[wreckmetoji]

idfc

An ongoing fic in which you don't realize you have both Fushiguros at your feet.

↳ Toji Fushiguro/Reader Part 3/?

Part 1, Part 2 , Part 4

content warning. age gap, shameless smut, afab reader, mild degradation, spit kink, size kink, choking, unprotected sex, overstimulation, profanity This is part three of a several part story revolving around smut. **Minors DNI**

1.6k words

You came to a quick conclusion that had he not prepared you how he did, there was no fucking way his dick would fit. "Doll, we're just getting started." The circles Toji traced on your hip with his fingertips did little to calm your nerves. That wasn't his intention anyways. "Like what you see?" Toji smirked, free hand going to the base of his length and giving it a slow shake. You had to will yourself to look back up to his eyes instead of following the sway of his cock. You didn't trust yourself to speak so you nodded instead. “You're... um..." The words died in your throat as he leaned down, towering above you. He moved his hips between your legs, trapping you between his strong arm and the back of your couch. "Big?" "Fucking huge," You breathed, his sardonic grin only growing at the shake behind your voice. "Careful sweetheart, you're stroking my ego. That's a dangerous game." Toji stroked the head of his cock against your slick, rubbing against your clit before stroking the rest of him down the crevice of your pussy, then coming back up to tease your clit again. Soft mewls left your lips, rocking your hips up into him and urging him to hurry the fuck up. Movements halted, and you immediately noticed the missing presence of his girth. You lifted your head to look down between the two of you, ready to ask him what was taking him so long, until you felt the head of his cock part you. He shifted his hips, pushing forwards. You arched your back, the wind knocked out of your body completely. He was gonna split you in two, holy shit. "Fuck, relax princess," Toji sucked a breath through his teeth, pushing two more inches into your heat. "You're so tight." Instinctively, you wrapped your legs around his slim waist, knees squeezing him slightly more with every agonizing push. In no way were you a virgin, but you had absolutely nothing to compare to his size. His other arm came up beside your head, effectively caging you between them, using one hand to grip your hair and tugging it to make you look at him. The sting had your eyes watering, your cunt squeezing him ever so slightly. His eyes pierced through you, holding your gaze until he was completely bottomed out inside of you. You looked completely fucked out and he'd barely even done anything yet. Your hips rocked, pushing up into Toji as much as you could. The corner of his lips tugged into a smirk, your eyes carefully watched his tongue slide over his scar. "Look at you, like a bitch in heat." He pulled out to the tip, fucking back into you with brute force. If you couldn't breathe before, it was impossible now. He repeated, setting a steady hard pace, watching your face contort in overwhelming pleasure. "You're such a slut, you think I don't notice the way you look at me every time you come over?" Toji gave an especially bruising thrust, making your jaw fall slack. You were barely able to make noise with how hard he was pounding into you, only little moans and squeaks every time his hips made contact with yours. "You've been wanting me to fuck you stupid for years, huh?" You sputtered an unintelligible answer, eyes rolling into the back of your head when he gave your hair a hard tug before letting go. His hand moved down to your lips, thumb forcing into your mouth with ease, pressing your tongue down with the pad of his finger. "Be a good girl," Toji muttered darkly, leaning down and sticking his tongue out above you. Your eyes came back into focus just as the string of spit fell from his tongue onto your own, an airy moan leaving you as the warm liquid dripped down your throat. He was quick to kiss you, tongue intruding your mouth to give you more and swallow your desperate sounds. When he parted, the string connecting connecting two of you snapped and dribbled down your chin, onto your chest. Toji groaned at the sight, sitting back on his thighs and gripping your hips with force. He pulled you into him, using your much smaller stature to his advantage, fucking himself with you brutally. Your screams and moans had drowned out his voice, but hearing him laugh made you gaze at him stupidly. He wasn't looking at your face, but down where the two of you were connected. When you shifted your gaze to see what he was laughing at, your eyes widened at the bulge pushing against your lower abdomen with every thrust. "Look at that... I could fucking break you, couldn't I?" Toji moved his hips up, pressing against you further. The words left your mouth in a garbled mess, but he understood them nonetheless. "Please break me, Toji... please." You were too absorbed in your own pleasure to see his expression shift, so the shock that came to you when he suddenly pulled out and flipped you with force made you shout. He entered you again without warning, mercilessly pounding into your aching cunt. One hand grabbed your forearm, pulling you to arch your back at an impossible angle. "Careful what you wish for, princess." Toji growled. His free hand came to wrap around the front of your throat, thumb and forefinger pressing on your pulse points just under your jaw, making your vision blur. It was too much, you could feel another orgasm quickly rising, trying desperately to voice the fact. His grip tightened on your throat, your head was floating. "Gonna cum for me again? You dirty slut." He grunted, leaning over you and pressing his chest to your back. You nodded as best you could with his hand holding your head still. The lack of oxygen was getting to your head, your eyes went glassy and your body began to slack against him. Your climax hit you like a truck, your entire body quaking and collapsing in his strong grip. You had completely blacked out, eyes rolling so far back in your head the strain gave you a headache. The last thing you remember is his arm wrapping around your waist to hold you up, and feeling warm ropes of cum filling up your overstimulated cunt. When you came to, Toji was wiping between your thighs with a dampened hand towel as you straddled his lap. He'd already pulled his pants back up, only remaining shirtless. You felt exposed in front of him, groaning at both the ache of your entire body and displeasure of your exposed state. "There she is," He announced, voice softer than you think you'd ever heard him speak before. You blinked, trying to lean back, body still too weak to do anything on your own. "Careful, princess. I got you." The room spun as he stood, carrying you with ease into your bathroom. You flinched at the cold granite counter making contact with your bare ass, making Toji chuckle. Once you relaxed, your back leaned against the mirror. “Scared the shit outta me, little girl." He turned the shower on, back facing you as he adjusted the nozzles and worked on removing his pants. "Don't think I've ever had someone pass out while I'm dickin' them down before." Oh how badly you wish you just died, right there and then. You could feel the heat radiating off your face, your ears going red. It was worse that he found it amusing. "Guess it was just that good," You muttered back, voice scratchy from overuse. "I guess one could say you fucked the life out of me." When Toji turned around, he had a lopsided smile that matched your own. "Yeah, guess you could." Toji was never a sweet or gentle man, that much was obvious. The scars that littered his body were from some dangerous job he always refused to specify, every time you had asked about the visible ones on his arms and face he would just say 'doesn't matter, I'm retired now'. So it came as a surprise when he got you on your feet and came into the shower with you, your back against his chest. This felt much different than the sex, it seemed much more intimate. There was a looming sense of closeness. It was short lived, however, once you started using your body wash his sneaky appendages traced up your sides and began cupping and kneading your chest. A soft sigh came from your lips, leaning your head back against his chest as he fondled you. You could already feel his half-hard cock pressing against your back, your own sex throbbing in time with his. A particular tweak of your nipple elicited a meek moan, your eyes fluttering closed. One of your small hands held his thick forearm, the other reached back and pressed against his upper thigh, just below his pelvic line. That was enough for him to hum, low baritone bouncing off the bathroom walls and shooting directly to the heat once again pooling between your legs. "Round two already?" You smirked through your words, having to tilt your head back all the way to look up at his roguishly handsome features. One of his hands moved down, brushing your swollen abused clit. Toji dipped his head, nudging your hair from your neck with his nose so he could kiss, lick, and nip the spot he'd been pressing with his thumb earlier. He peered up at you through the jet black strands of his bangs, raising a brow and grinning wickedly. "What can I say, I live to please. Besides..." "You ain't seen nothin' yet."

#toji fushiguro #toji smut #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x y/n #toji fushiguro smut #reader insert #jjk toji #toji jjk #jjk smut #toji thirst #daddy toji #minors do not interact #anime x reader #anime smut

[bookishofalder]

Rainy Days

Spencer x Reader

Request: @starwithoutdarkness - Hey! I heard you were looking for requests! Maybe Spencer Reid x reader fake dating fluff? Combined with Request: @paulaern  - Hello!  What about Spencer Reid x reader when they realizes they love each other? Like reader makes something for Spencer and he thinks like "I can't deny anymore, I'm completely and hopeless in love with her" or something like that  (G!neutral if you want)

A/N: Thank you so much for sending in requests! Hope this makes you smile!

Warnings: Swearing, moderate BAU violence, creepy men, fluffiest fluff, intense headache description. Set randomly post prison Reid but Hotch is still there because he should have been! WC-2,488

Spencer was staring at the geo-profile he had been working on all day, very glad to be inside. The weather in Seattle had stayed consistently rainy for the two days the BAU team had been in town assisting in catching a killer, who had been committing serial robberies/murders with no apparent rhyme or reason. And while Spencer didn’t mind the rain, he did mind loud, busy cities. Combined, they usually led to a headache that would take a day or two to recover.

The door to the conference room he was working alone in burst open and slammed shut so suddenly he nearly jumped out of his skin, turning to see-

You.

Spencer hated it when you appeared without warning, catching him entirely off guard and presenting the risk that you would notice the visible effort it took for him to compose himself around you.

While he’d noticed how beautiful and hilarious and empathetic you were the moment you joined the team, he’d fallen in love with you when you had your first case with them. Spencer had begun to ramble about the specifics of casinos, and how ‘beating the house’ was nearly impossible, when the rest of the team had tuned out. A temporary member, Agent Seaver, had sneered ‘I’m sorry I asked.” Effectively shutting him up. But then you had turned in your seat next to him and, after shooting Seaver a look had asked him to continue. And though he didn’t have that much more to say, and it wasn’t all that interesting, you listened to every single word and thanked him.

It had been years since that had happened, your friendship had blossomed into best friends, something Spencer cherished immensely. This was partly why he shoved his feelings down. The relationship did not need to change for Spencer to remain happy; as long as he got to spend time with you at work, or watch movies and make tent forts in his living room. And visit his mom (who adored you and always gave you book recommendations that you would be sure to read the moment you could), or go to comic conventions and museums...yes, as long as he could always do those things with you, he was happy.

No need to risk changing a perfect thing.

Now though, you were shutting the door and giving him your most panicked look, wide-eyed, with your hair damp from the rain you no doubt had run through to get inside, accounting for your breathlessness. If it weren’t for the worry that had sprung up inside of him upon seeing your expression, he would have fixated on how beautiful you looked at that moment.

“Spencer, you’re my boyfriend.” You whisper yelled at him, quickly stepping closer and setting your bag down on the conference table.

“Wha-“ He began, but you cut him off frantically.

“I’ll explain-just, oh fuck-“

Spencer stood frozen to the spot as the door reopened and one of the senior detectives sauntered in, a friendly smile somewhat overshadowed by the almost predatorial glint in his eyes. You awkwardly stepped closer to Spencer, raising a hand in hello.

“Agent (Y/L/N), great to see you’re back, I was hoping to catch you before the end of the day!” He said merrily, placing two hands on the back of the nearest chair. Something about the way his hands gripped the chair made Spencer feel...on edge.

You gave the fakest little giggle Spencer had ever heard from you, “Oh, nice to see you too Detective! Just had to catch up with Agent Reid here...”

When his eyes moved from you to assess Spencer briefly, he felt a protective force rear up, instincts entirely at alert. Without hesitating, he casually draped an arm over your shoulder, brushing some hair back as he did, and replied, “And you promised we could get some coffee from the Starbucks down the road, hon.”

He enjoyed the way your cheeks flushed and noticed the pulse in your neck pick up. You glanced up at him, trying to look coy but he knew you too well and could see you were partly surprised, and also trying not to laugh.

“Um, of course, I nearly forgot, babe, let’s go in about 5-unless, did you need something specific, Detective?” She broke off to glance back at the now scowling man, who gave an annoyed jerk of his head before stomping back out of the room.

Once the door banged closed behind him, you let out the biggest sigh of relief, raising a hand to your face in dismay.

Spencer hadn’t removed his arm yet, “I’m assuming I just helped you avoid being asked out, but why-?”

“Uhg, Spencer, I’ve already turned him down TWICE since we’ve arrived! He’s literally the kind of dude who doesn’t take no for an answer unless another man has some fucking misogynistic claim over the woman!” You exclaimed, before moving to stand right in front of Spencer and lean just your head to his chest, staring down at the floor, “I hate everything.”

Spencer laughed, patting your back softly, but internally making note that he wouldn’t be letting you go anywhere alone for the rest of this case-that detective gave him the creeps. And while you were beyond capable of protecting yourself, he just knew he wouldn’t be able to focus on anything if he thought you could be hurt.

“Well, just so we’re clear I would never want to be called ‘babe’ in a relationship.” He joked and the desired effect was his immediate reward when you lifted your head and giggled-your genuine, beautiful little giggle-and then grinned.

“Spencer, you called me ‘hon’ like we were 70.”

Spencer considered a moment, “We could be, you’ll be Gladys and I’ll be-“

“Winston!” You supplied eagerly, and he frowned at you, trying not to laugh.

“Winston?”

“It’s really very dignified, the kind of name where people call you ‘sir’.” You replied cheekily, and while Spencer grinned, a part of him felt a swoop of pleasure when your lips formed the word ‘sir’.

He decided very quickly that he liked the idea of you calling him that. And then, just as swiftly dismissed that train of thought and chastised himself.

As you both stood together and laughed, the door swung open and Hotch and the team followed him in, all in various stages of the results of exposure to the rain, looking equally grim. Spencer and you abruptly stopped when you saw their expressions and launched back into work mode seamlessly.

———

Two days later, the team was closing in on the unsub and everyone was on high alert. Taking the profile and applying it to the geo-profile he had been working on, Spencer had narrowed down this grubby old apartment that sat above a nightclub as the most likely spot the unsub was staying at. Of course, they were arriving at night which meant the club was busy and loud, people lined up out the doors waiting for their chance to enter, pay too much for a drink and grind their bodies against strangers.

Spencer’s headache from the unforgiving rain was thrumming now with the music that seemed entirely unencumbered by the walls of the stairwell, the team slowly climbing. It was bad enough that his eyes narrowed somewhat, but he didn’t lose focus.

You were behind him, watching his six as Hotch and Morgan approached the door ahead and prepared to breach. Spencer slipped a hand behind his back and, on cue, you’re pinky wrapped with his. A brief promise to each other, ‘I’ve got you.’.

They had anticipated violence and heavy arms, so when their announcement was met with silence and the door was kicked open, the tactical response was to secure positions and carefully proceed. Agents and SWAT members lined the building and were, at that moment, securing the club below to ensure the unsub couldn’t flee into a room full of potential hostages.

Spencer and you were the third pair to enter, quickly moving ahead of the others to secure more rooms, eyes peeled for movement. The floor was covered in litter and random spots of dirt and dried substances. It smelled like body odour and axe body spray-which immediately went to Spencer’s headache and caused it to throb in protest.

“Freeze!”

You had shouted right as Spencer noticed the movement from a back room down the hall, as the unsub leaned out and, not abiding by the command, opened fire. Spencer grabbed you and swung you both behind the wall of the kitchen, out of the line of fire while he shouted the unsubs location.

You recovered quickly, dropping to the ground and leaning out to return fire as Hotch and Morgan ran across to the living room to join the battle. It only took a few moments after that before Morgan managed to get a shot to the suspect's shoulder and he fell with a cry of anguish.

You popped up from the ground, watching as Prentiss and Rossi moved forward to secure the man, and barked into your radio for medics to come in.

Spencer, meanwhile, was reeling. When the shots in the room had all joined together in a cacophony, sound and noise piercing his skull, it had converted to pain and panic in his skull, overwhelming him. He had used his own body to shield yours when he pulled you with him into the wall, and the caution he took with you meant he hadn’t caught himself carefully enough, his head bouncing lightly off of the stone wall.

Which, on a normal day would have simply been annoying. But today, with a headache so severe he was beginning to get spots in his vision, it was detrimental. The scene was secure, so he allowed his eyes to shut, a meagre reprieve but at least it was something, at least he didn’t have to see the beams from the flashlights or the pulsing of the neon signs outside of the windows...

“Winston, take my hand.” Your voice was so, so soft. Spencer let his mouth open slightly, a small rush of air all he managed, trying to say ‘I can’t-it hurts, make it stop’ but you grasped his hand tightly and pulled and he followed, his other hand reaching and grabbing that back of your vest, he let you lead him.

He knew from the reduced foot traffic of agents and crime scene workers that you were taking the rear exit, a stairwell that was narrower than the main. He peeked through his lashes to take the stairs, and then suddenly, the cool night air hit him and the door was closing behind you both.

You kept walking with purpose, leading Spencer further away from the loud building. The rain spattered his face but with each step the noise reduced and after a short walk it became relatively quiet.

“Sit.” You murmured, halting. Spencer opened his eyes and saw that you had led him to the farthest spot in the parking lot from the building, where trees lined the lot along a community park that was probably utilized by vagrants and drug dealers more than families. But there was a bench, and you were waiting for him to take a seat. You had pulled out a compact, expandable emergency rain shield from one of the pockets on your FBI utility belt and tossed it on the bench, protecting you both from soaking your underwear.

Spencer sat, setting his elbows on his legs and leaning forward with his hands pressed to his face. He took deep, steadying breaths as you joined him, your hand on the back of his neck. At first, he thought you were just resting it there because his FBI vest would have prevented him from feeling your hand on his back, however, a moment later it was joined by your other hand and a very cold object.

Resisting the urge to pull away, he gasped at the contact, “What-?”

“On-the-go cold compress, Doctor.” You explained, leaving it in place and then rummaging again. Spencer wanted to look but the compress, combined with the quiet, was already doing wonders. He continued to take deep breaths.

“When you’re ready, try this.” You said softly, pressing something to his hand. Opening his eyes, he saw a mini flask that had his name written on the side.

He turned his head slowly so as not to move the compress and met your eyes, which were assessing him with concern. “(Y/N), when did we start drinking on the job?”

You giggled quietly, “It’s just water mixed with this like, vitamin powder that’s supposed to be good for rehydrating you quickly. I did some research on how to help headaches like yours on the go, just in case, and I made this ‘Spencer’ care bag.” You rambled a little when he didn’t reply.

Spencer looked back at the flask and opened it, quickly downing the contents. It tasted pretty fruity and he realized he was thirsty, this taking the edge off.

“Is it okay?” You asked. Spencer raised his head and met your eyes, searching them.

He was overwhelmed, the headache already fading, in its place an intensely warm feeling building inside of him as he considered the time and effort you had taken to care for him. He hadn’t asked you, or hinted, you had just taken it on to find a way to help him and you were right there when he needed you the most.

You had always been there when he needed you. When he had been shot protecting Blake, when he struggled to care for his mother, when he had gone to prison, when he was freed, you were there.

The words tumbled out, unable to be contained a second longer.

“I am hopelessly in love with you.”

Your mouth opened and closed in surprise, taken entirely off guard. Though he worried what you would say, he couldn’t deny the relief he felt having finally said it out loud. He watched patiently as your mind processed his confession, holding his breath.

“I-Spencer,” And then suddenly your lips were pressing into his and the pain from his headache ceased entirely. Spencer was consumed by the feel of you against him, of your hands holding his face and the hum of content you gave when he returned your passion, dropping his flask and sliding his hands up your neck, gripping tenderly.

After what could have been hours, weeks, or years, you both broke apart, pulling back just enough to make eye contact without your eyes crossing. Neither of you let go, your breath puffing out in wisps in the cold night air.

“I love you too,” You breathed, “I could grow old with you, Winston.”

Spencer laughed, relief and happiness swooping through him at your words, “Gladys, I couldn’t imagine anything more perfect.”

Did you enjoy this story? Please consider reblogging or commenting to ease my inner turmoil as a writer. Likes are basically just a bookmark!

You grinned back at Spencer, and then he kissed you again.

#spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #spencer reid #bau x reader #fluff #fake dating #requested #fanfic #reader insert #friends to lovers #best friend #love #mgg x reader #mgg fanfiction

[undermattsun-archive]

taste

(skate rat) kawanishi taichi x fem!reader | w.c 3.5k

a/n: SURPRISE it’s a sequel to mouth <3 my original skate rat sin i suppose, and also like my first real fic/drab for the fandom. god bless. as always thank u to @bakatenshii​ + @sugardaddykenma​ for putting up with me ranting about this fic (and also putting up with me since mouth)

big big thanku to #1 wife @pomsuki​ for reading this for me and yelling at me to finish this damn thing <3

18+ university age | pls read ALL warnings

warnings: drugs, public sex, dub/noncon exhibitionism, degredation, humiliation, dubcon, blood, slight injury (it’s a bloody nose), toxic behavior, misogynistic energy? vibes? you’ll know when u see it honestly

reading mouth isn’t necessary but it is appreciated! and pls check out melt + nightingale syndrome for they exist in the same skate rat universe (+ they’re delicious fics) also the people who wrote em r BIG SEXY

There were more than enough reasons to quit Kunimi Akira. He never texts back, he doesn’t go to class, he’s fucked a few of your friends and he couldn’t commit if you paid him. He was simply a waste of time, it was like every second spent with him was another mark ticked off a test, a percentile lowering on your next paper.

But chucking Kunimi would be like trying to sort grains of rice, difficult and damn near impossible. He always knew how to draw you back in and he enjoyed the mind games a lot more than his bored expression would let on. 

Despite the impossibility of quitting him you had to at least try, so you swore up and down that hooking up with him at Oikawa’s party some odd months ago was truly the last of it, that you were done with him and all of his irritating skate rat friends.

Which begs the question of how you ended up at the little concrete amphitheater on campus, sandwiched between Hanamaki and Matsukawa on one of the steps, a blunt being passed between the two of them without so much as a second glance towards you.

“Say, when’s the last time you and Kunimi had fun?” Makki’s grin is nothing short of lascivious, a slimy feeling weighs on your tongue as you shrug off a shudder.

“Say, was that ever any of your business?” You retort, snatching the blunt from his lips bringing it to your own and inhaling deeply, revelling at the warmth creeping down your throat and filling your chest. 

“Quit it Makki, she’s not gonna fuck you. Kunimi got her ‘round his little finger,” Mattsun coos, taking back the blunt, “besides, heard she’s a fuckin ice queen in the sack. Boooring.”

A sharp inhale keeps you grounded, the sound of Iwaizumi’s board slamming back down onto the pavement reminding you where you are, who you’re with. You’re not going to fall for Mattsun’s little games too.

“Tch.” Daggers prick at your lips, but you bite your tongue knowing that fueling the fire will earn you nothing but a headache. It’s not like you’re waiting for anything, or anyone, stealing a few more hits and leaving would be the best option.

“Oh? Nothing to say? But I heard your mouth was your only redeeming quality.” You focus your gaze on Iwaizumi telling Oikawa to stay out of his way, trying not to let your growing discomfort scare you away. The stubborn refusal of letting Mattsun’s words win only letting a dull ache grow at the base of your skull, prickling further when he and Makki let out low mocking laughs.

“Hey fucknuts!” Your head whips over to see a blur of crimson race by, followed gradually by a few other familiar faces you’ve seen around at parties and on campus.

“God, not these assholes.” Makki laughs as Oikawa makes faces at one of the newcomers. Your eyes drag across the unfolding scene as the number of rowdy idiots grows. You swallow hard, knowing that staying any longer would only cause your headache to further bloom.

“That’s my cue to leave.” You sigh, it’s not like you were waiting for Kunimi in the first place. You weren’t. You were just...killing time.

“Leaving?” Your head tips back to look up at the source of the question, Kawanishi Taichi, of course. 

“Yeah, dunno why I’m here in the first place.” You brush off his quirked brow and shove Mattsun hard with your shoulder as you stand up. With a curt nod, you smooth a hand over your jeans, turning on your heel to brush past Kawanishi, ignoring the low whistle that falls from his lips. You make it a good distance down the walkway before the sound of crunching footsteps behind you prickles at your ears as you ready yourself to tell whoever it is to get lost. 

“Want a ride?” You let out a huff as you look over your shoulder to see Kawanishi standing so nonchalantly, hands tucked into his pockets as he chews on a toothpick.

“Shouldn’t you be skating around with your little boyfriends?” The comment slips out, followed by your tongue sliding over your bottom lip as if it’ll soften the sharpness of your tone. 

“Nah, just droppin 'em off,” his eyes rake up and down your figure as you turn to face him, “where’s yours?”

“My what?”

“Your little boyfriend. You were waiting there like a lost puppy for him.” A protest rises in your chest, curbing it when you see a flash of something akin to flirtatious teasing in his normally passive eyes. 

“I... I don’t have one.” The words are slathered in honey, punctuated with a flutter of your lashes as Kawanishi takes another step forward. 

If Kunimi likes playing all those stupid games, why not play a few of your own?

“Is that so?” His head tilts slightly, you feign shyness, fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you smile sweetly at him, confirming your statement with a nod of your head. “My car’s just over in the parking lot.” He tips his head in the direction of the closest lot, before turning to start walking. Without hesitation you easily fall into step beside him, trying to dampen your rising nerves.

Despite the dumb little hookups peppering your dating history, you had only gone so far with most of them, Kunimi being one of the few —and the only one you crawled back to— that you had made the unfortunate pleasure of going all the way with. You keep pushing away at the thoughts of inexperience as Kawanishi approaches an old, beat up, black Corolla, the paint flaking off with dings and dents littering across the body, the impeccably shiny rims on the wheels making you snort. 

It was a rather famous car across campus, seeing it around with stupid skate rats crammed in there with the windows fogged with smoke was an almost daily occurrence, especially highlighted by how it’s tied to one too many stories of girls having varying encounters with Kawanishi –and sometimes one of his friends– in said car.

“Wanna smoke or skip to the real fun?” He never minced any words, always up front or just completely skipping out on the conversation. It always made him the best project partner in the odd classes you’ve shared over your uni years.

“I don’t like waiting.” The fuzziness nipping at your spine from the few hits you took earlier were just enough, not wanting to dull your senses completely during this encounter. The bluntness of your answer causes a smirk to play at Kawanishi’s lips as he opens the door to the back.

“Well then, ladies first.” He gestures to the gray cloth seats, you make a point to ignore the questionable stains littered across it as you slide in, trying to focus instead on figuring out the heady scent permeating through the car. Cheap cologne, cigarettes, weed and maybe stale beer, and something that was distinctly him. 

Your eyes are drawn to a stain on the roof that looks oddly similar to an eagle, the thought unfinished as Kawanishi practically dives in after you. The sound of the door slamming preempting hands roaming over your body and lips moving against your neck. 

“Kawa-”

“Just Taichi.” He clips as he works the buttons of your jeans, a coarse hand working against your spine as he unhooks your bra.

“Eager much?” You laugh as he pushes at your shirt and bra exposing pert nipples to cool air, simultaneously managing to work your jeans past your hips and down your thighs.

“You said no waiting.” With a chaste kiss to your lips he’s maneuvering you onto your stomach, raising your hips in the air, face shoved halfway between the seat and door.  You let out a huff as your hand braces itself against the door, while the other on the seat below you, trying to find some semblance of comfort in the cramped setting.

“Mhm.” It’s the best reply you can manage as he grinds his clothed cock against the cleft of your ass, already hard. You can only imagine how many women he’s had in this situation to award all six feet and three inches of himself the ability to move so successfully around in the cramped backseat. 

Nimble and worn fingers circle around your hip, dipping down to tease at dampening lace, eliciting a soft moan from you. You push back against him, delighting in the soft grunt he lets out as he curls himself over you to scrape his teeth over your nape. His fingers continue to run up and down against your clothed cunt, pressing at the growing slick spot marking your wanting hole.

“Excited huh?” He mumbles as he skims his tongue against the shell of your ear, you manage a low hum in reply as he slides his hands back up, tugging down the flimsy piece of clothing, exposing your needy cunt to hungry eyes. He wastes no time pressing his fingers against your twitching hole, causing you to wiggle your hips just enough to earn a low chuckle and send the message of just how much you want him, need him. 

Without any further hesitation he slips in a finger, your back arching with the realization his fingers are longer than Kunimi’s, chest burning at the fact you could even think of another man in this situation. As if he can sense your wandering thoughts Taichi works in another finger, another following quickly after. There’s no urgency in his movements, each twist and thrust of his fingers methodical, curling in just the right way, making sure to brush his thumb over your throbbing clit to send a stinging pleasure up your spine. 

You can’t deny the way he’s taking you apart so sweetly, the tightening deep in your belly achingly sweet, as he starts to thrust his fingers even deeper, tiny gasps and whines starting to grow louder and louder as you careen towards bliss. With a particularly rough curl of his fingers you feel yourself come undone completely, punctuated by a shameless moan.

The sound of knuckles tapping against the fogged glass pulls you out of your blissful haze, still acutely aware of the way Taichi has his fingers lazily twisting inside of you. 

“It’s open.” He tugs you back by the hips slightly as he retracts his fingers painfully slow, listening as he unzips his jeans. Your heart races as the passenger door opens, shifting uncomfortably to try to catch a glimpse of who’s slid into the car.

“Oh, so that’s where you went, Mattsun said you were hanging around.” Your blood runs cold, your state of undress tightening your chest as you become painfully aware of the situation you’re in. The passive tone of Kunimi’s voice nips at your skin, tears away at the search of mindless fun that you had tried to pursue with Taichi, filling your chest with raw embarrassment.

“What do you want?” The tear of a wrapper following the question, whatever protest you had silenced by a hand coming down to grip harshly at your ass.

“You have my grinder.” Kunimi slips into the passenger seat, the sound of the glove box popping open making your eyes squeeze shut. 

“Yeah well close the door at least.” Your eyes widen at Taichi’s statement, you didn’t want Kunimi to just close the door, you wanted him to leave.

“Whatever. Can I smoke in here?” It doesn’t sound like much of a question, more of a declaration with the ‘can’ and the question mark tacked on for decoration.

“I don’t care, do you?” You crane your head just enough to catch the blasé expression on Taichi’s face, a quirked brow directed more at your ass than you.

“Yeah sweetheart, care if I’m in here while you’re whoring yourself out?” Kunimi scoffs, the irritated tinge to his bored tone making you furrow your brows.

“Oh fuck you.” You start to rise on your elbows, only for Taichi’s hand to land between your shoulder blades, keeping you from moving any further. You let out a huff as Kunimi clicks his tongue in feigned disappointment.

“Sorry babe, it’s me who’s fucking you this time around, maybe Kunimi can get the next round.” Before you can even bother with a retort, Taichi drags the head of his cock against slick folds, teasing at your entrance. You let your head hang down, the click of a lighter grating on your nerves more than you would like to admit. 

“Please, fuck me, I want it so bad.” The whininess of your voice annoys even you, but if Kunimi wants to stick around and get on your nerves, then two could play that game. 

“Since you asked so nicely.” Just like before he slides in slowly, carefully, as if to make you memorize what each inch of him feels like splitting you apart so sweetly.

“Shit.” You exhale shakily as you try to adjust to him, it had been months since you last fucked anyone, since you last fucked the asshole sitting passenger.

He sets a leisurely pace, steady and infuriating. There’s a hand clamped down on your hip, fingers digging in painfully to keep you in place, to establish that he’s the one calling all the shots. You huff, still trying to buck your hips to meet his thrusts. There’s something in his actions that makes you feel greedy, desperate for so much more than he’s offering.

There’s no way around it, you’re completely at his mercy, left taking the shallow, slow thrusts that only makes the desperate ache deep in your cunt grow.

“Hook a finger or two in her mouth.” There’s a pause in Taichi’s motions, letting you finally take a deep breath of the thick weed laced air. “Don’t look at me funny, do it and see what happens.”

You hear a non-committal hum as those devilishly nimble fingers skim past your jaw, a whimper preceding his index pushing past your lips with a harsh tug at the corner of your mouth, the painful stretch of your cheek causing you to clench down on his length.

“Oh? You were right.”

“She’s already broken in,” Kunimi takes a long drag of the joint hanging in his fingers, “no point in holding back.” 

It’s as if a flip is switched in Taichi, the statement becoming an immediate challenge as he hooks in another finger beside the other, yanking harshly as the snap of his hips becomes almost painful. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the car, swirling with the heady smoke defiling the air. 

“W-Wait Taichi.” The words are garbled around his fingers, and you’re quickly dismissed as he snakes around his other hand to hook his middle and index on the other corner of your mouth, the stretch in your lips burning as he shifts from the quick paced thrusts to deep, hard strokes.

His only reply is to tug harshly on your mouth as pathetic whines and distored words spill from you. 

You can feel yourself start to shake almost violently, still reeling from your earlier orgasm and suffering at the hands of Taichi’s now vicious pace. Each thrust pushing you into madness, each tug of his fingers bringing you back. 

“Fuck, fuck.” He curls over you again, sloppily running his tongue up your nape. “You wanna cum?” 

“Mhmm,” you yelp at a particularly rough slam of his hips, “please.”

He grunts, moving a hand to grip at the back of your head while keeping his other hand planted on your hip, fingers biting into your hip. There’s no warning as he grinds into you, the hold on your hip finally relenting as he slides his digits back down to pinch at your throbbing clit, the bit of pressure sending you careening over the edge.

“T-Taichi.” Pleasure wracks through your body, your legs tremble violently as you try to move your hand on the door, shoulder aching from holding yourself in place. The second your hand moves, you give into the force of Taichi’s hand on the back of your head, forcing you to slam face first into the door, the impact making your nose sting, blood immediately starting to gush, running down your face and chin. 

You’re not sure if he doesn’t notice or doesn’t care as he continues his assault, the once careful, methodical thrusts turning desperate and depraved as he moves with reckless abandon. His teeth drag across your shoulder, before pulling out completely.

“Don’t need this.” You grip at your nose, trying to ignore the disgusting feeling of blood seeping onto your fingers, looking over your shoulder again to see Taichi pull off the condom. You can’t even protest with the way you’re bleeding profusely, pinching at your bridge at a poor attempt of stopping the bleeding.

“Stay still.” In one swift movement he’s plunging back into you, bottoming out immediately, a muffled yell falls from your lips, arching your back as he drives into you with just a few more hard thrusts you feel his seed spill inside you. 

For a moment you two stay suspended, the head of his cock nudging against your cervix, making you groan in a twisted sense of pleasure of pain. He pulls out painfully slow, delivering another harsh slap your ass as he sits back.

“Oh, sorry ‘bout your nose.” He helps you flip onto your back, swiping his thumb over the blood trickling onto your lip before shucking off his t-shirt and handing it to you. “Don’t have any tissues.” 

“So who’d you like playing fuck toy for better?” For a split second, somewhere between the back breaking orgasm and your nose being slammed into the door, you had blissfully forgotten that Kunimi was still in the car, but now that perfect illusion just had to be shattered.

“Must you be such a dick all the time?” You manage to pull your jeans back up, hissing at the stinging pain in your hips and lower back, ignoring the lewd feeling of Taichi’s cum starting to leak from your abused cunt. 

Beside you Taichi manages to tuck himself back into his pants, reaching under the driver's seat to yank out a hoodie reeking of weed and cigarettes.

“Maybe you two should just get together already.” Taichi lets out a low chuckle as he pulls on the hoodie, getting out of the backseat, slamming the door hard before throwing the driver’s door open. You don’t even bother trying to hook your bra back on as you pull your shirt down, letting yourself slump back down and lay across the backseat as you reach up to check if your nose is still bleeding.

“Like hell.” Kunimi twists around in the passenger seat, looking down at you with an amused smirk, offering the freshly rolled joint to you. “You look like shit. I said she was broken in, not to break her more.” He only gets a wry laugh from Taichi as he starts the car.

“Thanks, right back at you.” You sit up just enough, looking at Kunimi expectantly. He shakes his head before twisting the joint in his fingers and placing it between your lips, producing the lighter. Just as he’s about to hand it to you he brings his hand back a bit, grabbing your jaw with his other as he lights the joint. He picks up Taichi’s bloodied shirt, pouring water from a twisted plastic bottle onto it before passing it back to you.

“Cute, blew her back out and you’re doting on her.” You watch as Kunimi moves to sit back in his seat, not even bothering to spare you a second glance as he shrugs. You dab away at the drying blood on your face, ignoring a few of the splotches that landed on the joint.

“Guess I play favorites, drop us off at my place.” 

“Us?” You exhale after a long drag, narrowing your eyes at the back of Kunimi’s head as Taichi pulls out of the parking spot.

“What do I even get out of doing that?” You can’t help but nod in agreement of Taichi’s statement, feeling yourself growing annoyed at the way they seem to ignore your entire presence.

“You can fuck her again.” Kunimi offers and you almost drop the joint as your jaw falls open at the absolute nerve of the man. 

“Excuse me? I’m right here?” The way that neither of them even flinch at your statement, let alone acknowledge it makes you slump back into the seat, begrudgingly accepting the fact whatever you say isn’t worth shit to either of them.

“Hm.” It doesn’t sound like he’s actually considering the offer, but the quick look over his shoulder as he turns out of the parking lot sends a chill down your spine and your stomach to twist.

“Believe it or not, her mouth’s her one redeeming quality.” The two of them snicker, like two old pals sharing an inside joke.

“Shut the fuck up.” You’re brushed off once again as they toss back a few more comments before Taichi stops at a red light, looking over at Kunimi, then back at you and finally back towards the road.

“Yeah alright.”

#miki writes #tw drugs #tw dubcon #tw exhibitionism #tw dubcon exhibitionism #tw noncon exhibitionism #tw noncon #tw degradation #tw humiliation #tw injury #tw blood #thank u for yelling at me pommeth #like forreal #i've been big struggling w writing this #and keeping motivation #skdjfhkj i considered just #dashing this completely #woof #also we as a collective need to wanna fuck taichi more #like forreal he's so fucking pretty #and just #doesn't care about shit #also he's a sexie bartender???? #sir?????? #skate rat hq

[aurora-australis-tumbles]

7 and 28 for the winter prompts, please, my darling 😍🙏

Anything for you, my dearest! 😘 This was definitely an interesting combination, too... I suspect you knew it would necessitate just a touch of angst*, didn't you? 😂

This is for 7 (hangover) and 28 (progress).

*just a touch, I'm still me after all. 😆

-------

Phryne considers herself an excellent navigator.

She has to be, really — an aviatrix who can’t navigate becomes an ex-aviatrix one way or another pretty damn fast.

Still, watching Jack stir a headache powder into his water as his uncharacteristically loose hair threatens to spill out over his forehead at any moment, she has to admit she really has no idea where they are going.

Right now, her ordinarily excellent navigational skills mean nothing. It feels frankly impossible to know if they are even making progress anymore and, if so, what it is exactly they are progressing towards.

Or if they are still moving forward together.

“Burning the midnight oil, Jack? Grappa will do that.”

“I'm sure I was up no later than you.”

“Oh, I was tucked up in bed at a very sensible hour.”

“If you're waiting for me to ask who with…”

Yes!, she wants to scream. Ask me who with! Ask me anything, anything at all to show we’re not completely out of step.

Ask me why it wasn’t you.

She doesn't, though, scream or demand an interrogation of any kind. Instead, she focuses on the case. That, at least, is showing some genuine progress.

Jack, however, still seems distracted.

Grappa will do that.

“So what did you say you were up to last night?” he asks.

“I didn't.”

“Then why are you asking me?”

Phryne wants to laugh.

Why? WHY? Because if you’ve traded nightcaps for gnocchi, Gianni, I at least deserve to know.

“No reason,” she says instead. “It’s called civilised conversation.”

Jack clears his throat and downs the rest of his hangover tonic in one. Phryne tries to focus once more on the account details in front of her, but it’s no use. She purses her lips and turns to him instead, well and truly frustrated now.

“Why did you come here this morning, Jack? You’re clearly ill.”

“I’m… wait what?”

He looks more confused than ever.

“Ill, Jack. Or, ‘still recuperating’ as my father would say. In any case, why did you come here?”

“I — you left a message that you had new information, and — ”

He’s having trouble keeping up, she can tell, but she doesn’t slow down. She’s Phryne Fisher, dammit, and she may not know where they’re going, but she’ll still get them there fast.

“Yes, but we could have discussed it on the telephone. I should have thought in your current state you'd rather be home.”

“Well aren’t I anyway?” Jack mutters, rubbing his clearly throbbing temple. “Really, Phryne, I stopped making the distinction a while ago.”

Oh.

The implications of what he’s just said hit them both at the same time.

She can see, looking in his still slightly blurry eyes, that he didn’t mean to make the confession. But he doesn’t walk back from it either. Because it is the truth.

He is home.

In vino veritas.

(Grappa will do that.)

Leaving Jack a modicum of privacy to process his personal breakthrough, Phryne turns back towards the account book, attempting to hide the smile she can’t quite seem to keep off her lips no matter how hard she tries.

“Quite right, too,” she agrees, because it is her truth as well, before suggesting they interview Pappa Antonio again.

It feels like the right direction to take.

And it seems they are getting somewhere after all.

-------

January Prompt List

#prompt fill #mfmm #phrack #miss fisher's murder mysteries #january prompt list #phryne fisher #jack robinson

[sage-nebula]

Due to the time he spent in Shinjuku, Neku’s extrasensory perception became so powerful that it’s still active even after he returns to the RG.

He’s nowhere near as powerful in the RG, of course. He won’t cause anything to spontaneously burst into flames, and he can’t blast through walls with beams of holy light, either. But he can manipulate small objects with telekinesis, and—more importantly, or at least more relevantly to this post—can still “hear” the Souls of those around him, even when he’s not trying to.

It’s not so much that he hears them so much as he senses them. He can’t hear actual words, for instance—the thoughts of others are still off-limits to him, something he’s thankful for—but it’s like a pulse of sound against his inner ear, a constant throb of awareness in his brain that’s louder the more people that are around. The problem is, there are always people around in Shibuya. Even when he’s not out on the streets, there are people in the buildings around him, animals skittering through the trees, and animals have Soul too (even if it’s different from humans). It isn’t all the same, either, which makes it impossible to tune out naturally. Everyone’s Soul is different, everything mish-mashing together into a disjointed cacophony that somehow makes sweet music despite it. Or at least, it would be sweet music, if his brain could properly focus and process the information, or at least if he could turn it off at will. The problem is, his ESP is strong enough now that it still functions in the RG, but he is not yet experienced enough to know how to tune his powers on his own.

As a result, despite that he learned at the end of his Game that he should take his headphones off and open his ears to the people around him, after returning from Shinjuku that becomes monumentally harder than it was before. He’s fine in crowds, for a while . . . but at the end of each day (and sometimes long before the end of the day, depending on what he’s doing that day) he finds himself with a throbbing headache bad enough to make him feel nauseous. He doesn’t want to feel this way. He wants to open up, to push out his horizons as far as they can go. But even as he lies in bed at night (in the apartment above WildKat that Mr H left to him, Cat Street being one of the quietest in Shibuya and therefore the easiest on his senses), the pulse of the city around him still reverberates through his system. Sleep is already hard due to the Shinjuku nightmares, but this makes it even harder.

Of course, this is something that doesn’t go unnoticed by those who care about him, even though he never talks about it and always assures people he’s fine whenever they ask after him. After some internal debate on what to do, Shiki decides that maybe a new pair of headphones would help Neku. She has heard, after all, that headphones help those who have sensory issues with loud sounds, and perhaps Neku will find comfort in something that always gave him comfort before. Headphones don’t have to be a way to block out everyone, and she knows Neku well enough to know that he wouldn’t use them for that, not now. But maybe they can help him when his senses get overloaded, even if they’re only a placebo.

So she sets to work on designing an exclusive pair of Gatto Nero headphones for him—ones that are blue and white, so they match his new favorite jacket, with Gatto Nero graffiti surrounding a Mr Mew logo on each of the earpieces. What she doesn’t know (or at least fully realize) is that the graffiti that found its way through her subconscious and into her pen as she designed the new headphones wasn’t spontaneous, or accidental. Although he had no way of contacting her directly due to his current holy incarceration, Hanekoma could still observe Shibuya and saw everything that was unfolding—saw how Neku’s newfound growth in power was putting him through the paces, and saw how Shiki had come up with a solution to fix it. But while the placebo idea was a nice one, Hanekoma knew it wouldn’t be enough. And so, despite that he knew it could lengthen his incarceration at best or result in reprogramming at worse if he was caught, he imprinted some graffiti (or more accurately, sigils) into Shiki’s subconscious for her to use, so that he headphones would actually tune down Neku’s ESP when he had them on. Not mute it entirely, but at least tone it down to make it manageable, so that he could breathe and sleep more easily.

The headphones work like a dream.

Neku is a bit hesitant at first—he doesn’t want to regress to how he was before, shutting the world out and keeping himself locked in. But with Shiki’s encouragement that she knows he won’t fall back into old habits, that she wouldn’t have made these headphones for him if she thought he would, he accepts them. (It helps that they’re a gift from her, designed by her own hands, and that the design on the earpieces reminds him of CAT’s graffiti even though both he and Shiki feel that must just be a coincidence.) Neku wears the headphones (sans music) when they’re out in the city, and at night he falls asleep to soft music playing through the earpieces. Sometimes he lays up on the roof of WildKat, listening to music, feeling true peace for the first time in three years. And from his place in the angel penitentiary, Hanekoma sees this and smiles.

Even if he gets caught, he can safely say it was worth it.

#ntwewy #neo twewy #neo: the world ends with you #sakuraba neku #misaki shiki #hanekoma sanae #neshiki #neko to koneko #fic fix #kind of #being a psychic is all fun and games when you're in the UG obliterating Noise #but when you're in the RG feeling the constant thrum of life around you 24/7 it gets to be a bit Much #sure he could pick the lock with his mind to get into WildKat #but that's not quite enough to balance out the daily migraines #fortunately his gf and surrogate dad are waiting in the wings (ha) to help #and yeah I headcanon that he lives in Hanekoma's old apartment post-Neo #you'll pry ''Hanekoma basically adopts Neku'' out of my cold dead hands #I've held onto this for 13 years I'm not letting go of it now #Composer? Conductor? No. #after living a long and fruitful life as a human Neku's role in a post-RG afterlife would be *Producer* #but he gets to live a nice long life as human being first because that's what he DESERVES goddamn it stop MURDERING him #anyway #ntwewy spoilers #neo twewy spoilers

[remusmainhoe]

sirius x reader- study smut

warning: smut

the reader is trying to study but is interrupted by a very needy sirius.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

you were in the common room studying for the upcoming test in transfiguration, it was your seventh year, so everyone came a bit stressed out with exams. your eyes grew heavy as the headache from reading became more pronounced. you were reading on turning a toad into a toadstool when the portrait door flew open and sirius made his way to sit next to you.

"why is it that every time I leave you alone you study?" he asked gently closing your book.

"why is it that every time I'm with you, you distract me?" you jokingly scold him "you should be revising for the test too you know"

"stress isn't very good for my complexion" he joked.

"well bad grades isn't very good for my future, so if you don't mind" you smiled opening the book back up.

"come on y/n/n, we've barely spent any time together" he pouted.

"and who's fault is that? mr.i have detentions every week because I cant deny a good prank" you mocked.

"so we might have mixed the rubies of the house point jars to make them a tad bit more colorful, if anything, we did them a favor" he said.

"well that's not what Mcgonnagall thought, quite the opposite actually"

you turned your head back down to your book and continued where you had left off, when you felt him place his hand on your thigh.

"sirius" you said hiding a smile "move your hand"

he started rubbing his hand on your thigh, making you laugh.

"that's not what I meant and you know it" you shoved his hand off, trying to get back to transfiguration. it only took a few minutes until he scooted closer to you, placing his head on your shoulder, as he began to gently kiss your neck.

"sirius I need to focus"

"and I need you y/n" he whispered.

"come on, im studying, besides we're in the common room" you tried to reason with him.

he leaned in closer, his hand sneaking back up your leg, "please, the guys are out watching James at quidditch practice, we have the dormitory all to us for at least an hour.”

you breathed out unexpectedly shaky, "ok fine"

he swept you up taking you upstairs to the boys dormitory, seeing there was no one in the room, he threw you on his bed. sirius got on top of you, placing kisses against your collar bone. he paused.

"do you trust me?" he asked.

you nodded.

sirius got up, and began to unbutton his shirt. his body toned, his raven hair down, and his eyes looking hungry at you. you were wearing your uniform, a skirt with a white blouse and a tie. Sirius's hands graced your leg moving higher and higher, until he reached your underwear. you were laying down on his bed facing up, he took no time to rip off your clothes. sirius then moved to his trunk taking out two bondage ropes.

"can I?" he asked making sure, like every time he would take them out.

all you could do was nod making him grin. sirius grabbed your left hand tying it to his bed post, repeating the process with the left hand, he took the tie you were wearing before, rolled it up and put it in your mouth. he then walked to the front of the bed, his eyes moving around your body, his mouth coming to a grin. his eyes landing on your panties, brushing them aside.

"so wet for me already" he said.

your eyes moved to the tent in his pants, this time, you smirked. he took his pants off, moving toward you, his cold hands on your thighs making you shiver. sirius gave you no warning when his Tongue began to move up and down your core making you gasp, your cunt starting to throb. your hips began to move desperate for more, you could feel his smile. his tongue moving in circles making you moan louder. sirius pushed in two fingers moving them in a 'come here' motion, you moved your hips even more. a sensation started to build in your stomach the more he continued, you could feel the sweet sensation coming, he stopped. you grunted, frustrated by his absence in you.

"needy are we?" he teased "you won't be empty for long" he lined up his length to your core and you moaned seeing how big he is, you moved your hip to him, but he moved away smirking "you move when I want you to, so naughty in making me wait before" he scolded. he moved the tie momentarily from your mouth.

"please" you said

"please what?"

"please daddy" you gave in knowing the cheeky bastard.

he smiled placing the tie back in your mouth, grabbing your hips as he pushed into you, you moaned as he stretched you out. "all mine" he said pushing deeper into you. his hands gripping your hips so hard that you wouldn't be surprised if there would be bruises the next day. his right hand then moved, his thumb making circles on your core. you wanted to grab him by the hair, but the bondages made it impossible. his face moved down to your breasts, kissing your nipples, giving you hickeys all around you.

"all you can do is moan for daddy" he teased knowing that it was all the tie in your mouth could let you do. his left hand moved to your breasts, playing with your left nipple, as his mouth played with the right. he thrusted harder and deeper into you, as his thumb moved in just the right places, and his other hand as well as mouth on your breast it felt like to much, in the best way. the sensation becoming like never before, and you moved your hips wanting it more. the profanities that came out of you sounding like muffled groans. sirius shiny in a thin sheet of sweat, you felt his member throb in you.

"cum for me love" he let out. "I wanna fill you up now princess"

his thumb on your clit becoming faster as he went deeper and faster making a moan escape you as he hit your g spot sending an orgasm through you. the walls of your pussy clenching around him making him cum.

sirius pulled out of you smiling and panting, taking the bondages off as well as taking the tie out of your mouth. cleaning you up and getting you under the covers "you did so well love" he purred in your ear getting under the covers with you and embracing you in a hug as you both drifted to sleep exhausted.

#sirius #sirius x reader #sirius black #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black smut #sirius x you #smut #sirius black one shot #the marauders #harry potter #hogwarts #padfoot

[emf005]

Anxious

Anxious

Sirius Black x Evans!reader

Warnings: a bit of angst, My terrible writing

You stared out the window of the classroom, enjoying the lovely pitter-pattering of the rain on the glass that was, much to your delight, drowning out the teacher. You had woken up with a severe headache that morning and were in no mood for classes, let alone Ancient Ruins with a ghost teacher. You had in no way, shape, or form, any need for-

“Miss. Evans.” Your head turned to the teacher who was, along with the rest of the class, staring at you. “Care to translate?” He motioned to the board which the class had begun to decode.

“Sure. ‘To everyone who wishes death in some form or another, drink from a goblet which has no master’.” He stared at you with a nearly angry face.

“That is correct.” he spoke through his gritted, transparent, teeth. “Please try and pay attention from now on.”

“Of course, sir. But, as you have just seen, I have been paying perfect attention the entire time. Please continue on with this painfully exciting lesson.” He stared at you for a moment more before gritting his teeth again and continuing on with the lesson. You turned your attention back out the window, blocking out his lesson yet again.

Lily, your twin sister, caught up to you at lunch and started to ask how classes had been going in her own cherry way that made you want to hurl. You were not the typical Evans. You were not a goody goody twinkle toes like Petunia. You were not a sweet flower like Lily, you were just you. Your family referred to you as the “Biker” which was weird because you had no interest in leather or motorcycles or teasing your hair up to atrocious heights. You had no clue why no one would let you just be, ever. You were a tired anit-social introvert who got social anxiety that resulted in you being overly sarcastic and awkward. Lily, was your opposite and was completely oblivious. Well, you couldn’t take it that day. No you most certainly could not.

“Lily! Just shut up! Please! I just lived my entire day, I don’t need to recite it to you! Christ all mighty woman!” She stared at you, taken aback by your sudden outburst. She opened her mouth to say something but the only thing that came out was:

“Oh.” After a moment more she mumbled an apology and walked away glumly. You felt bad. You had never yelled at your sister before. You had never yelled at anyone before. You barely ever spoke three words unless you had to, class that day being the exception. You were just so tired of everyone being on your case.

“A bit harsh, Evans don’t you think?” You turned and stared at your tormentor. A true “Biker” in your opinion. Or, technically “Greaser”. I mean, seriously, the shine on his hair from how greasy it was was truly a feat you had no idea how he managed.

“Shove off, Black.”

“Oh,” he said dramatically. “The hurtfulness of the words! How will I ever be able to move on?” You grounded your teeth and stared at him, hating how short you were. You blew a strand of brown hair from your eyes, getting your looks from your dad and not your mom.

“I said, shove off. I’m not in the mood.”

“Oh? And what's this? She knows more words than just ‘shove off, Black’?”

Sirius Black. Your tormentor since first year. You had no idea how the stupid little rivery started between the two of you, nor did you care. You hated him with all of your being, more than you hated most people.

You raised your middle finger at him and brushed past him. He scoffed.

“Best you got, Evans?” He mocked.

“Figured your hair was disgrace enough. Don’t need me to say anything to embarrass you when you got that mop on your head!” You shouted back. That got him to shut up and you scurried to the owlery to meet with Henry, you beautiful brown horned owl.

You scratched your owl’s head and he gladly rubbed his head against your palm with an affectionate and grateful hoot. You laughed lightly and sniffled, shoving the tears off of your face. You placed your head against his and took a breath in and out, composing yourself. The anxiety bubbling back down from the day’s attention.

“Well well well. What do we have here?” You froze at his voice. Had I forgotten to mention your other tormentor. Or rather, group of tormentors? “Little Evans and her stupid little owl.” Lucius said. You heard Bellatrix cackle behind you and a few more snickers. How many were there today?

“Heard you were a bit mouthy today, love.” Bella said, walking around you. She was so close you felt her breath on her neck and it caused a chill to run down your spine.

“Please leave me alone,” you whispered. Another cackel cut through the air and you jumped. Your owl screeched as a means of trying to protect you.

“Aw, Mr. Owl wants to protect his little bitch?”

“Leave him out of this!” You yelled. Getting protective of the only good thing you had ever had.

You felt a hand grab your hair and yank you backwards. You yelled as you fell back onto Lucius Malfoy.

“What did you say to me? Are you giving us orders?” You swallowed and before you could say anything, your owl lunged at Lucius and attacked.

He dropped you as a means to protect his face but the sound he let out let you know that Henry had gotten his target. Lucius had a small scratch on his face beside his eyes that had begun to bleed.

“You stupid beast!” he yanked out his wand and before you could do anything he shouted out his curse. “Petrificus Totalus!” He shouted. Your lovely brown bird dropped mid-flight and hit the floor with a thunk.

“Henry!” You yelled and began to crawl to him, only to be dragged backwards by your hair.

“Teach you and your stupid beast to mock me.” He grumbled and threw you against the wall of the tower. You felt something wet drip down your neck.

Is it raining out?

Your ears were ringing loudly.

Who's ringing bells?

And your vision was blurred and fuzzy all over.

“Get her Lucius!” Bella shouted and you felt a sharp pain in your side. You let out a noise that didn’t sound quite human, or animal for that matter. You saw your bird, his brown feathers and beautiful wings spread out and frozen in their place.

You let out another whine as he abused your body more. Where you had no idea. It all hurt at this point that it was impossible to pinpoint a designated spot.

“Hey!” Someone shouted. The abuse stopped, but your body still throbbed mercilessly. You heard footsteps and people talking, but you couldn’t make anything out. All you could focus on was how tired you had gotten and how badly your body ached.

Why was it hiring again?

“Hey.” someone said again and you felt someone gently grab your face, causing you to whine and try to pull away, but they wouldn’t let you. They just turned your face to get a different perspective. You whined and tried to pull away again.

“Prongs!” You heard them shout, making you cry out in pain. Your head spun. “Sorry. I’m sorry. You’re going to be f-”

“Henry.”

“What?”

“H-henry. My-my owl. Get him first. Is-is he ok?”

“Your a bit more hurt than-”

“Please.” You cried. “Please he’s my-he’s my only friend. Please get him first. Please.” He was silent for a moment and more footsteps made their way up the tower stairs. “Please… you whispered.

“Ok… ok.”

The noises coming from the owlery were not ones that should be and they were just the ones that made Sirius Black pick up his pace just slightly. Remus and James were waiting for him at the bottom. A five second trip was definitely going to take a bit longer.

He rounded the corner to find a mess of white hair focused on something on the ground. A mess of curly black hair egging him on. And three more stooges from the Slytherin house snickering in the corner watching it all happen. An owl was laid out frozen on the ground but he paid no attention to that.

“Hey!” Lucius froze and gave one more swift kick before looking over his shoulder and smirking.

“Well. If it isn’t Si-Ah!” Sirius yanked him away from whoever he was kicking and threw him towards the door. His dear cousin yelled at him but he just glared at her and the rest of them.

Lucius pulled himself off the ground and brushed off his clothes.

“Let's go. He’s not worth our time.” Lucius grumbled and scurried off. The Slytherins all glared at Sirius but left.

Sirius turned to see who it was they were bullying. The figure lying on the floor, bruised and bloodied, caused him to freeze. Y/N Evans.

He rushed to her and knelt down tilting her head so that he could get a better look at her face. Even worse than what he had originally thought. The sight caused him to cringe.

“Prongs!” He shouted. She cried out, loudly, and he froze before profusely apologizing. “You’re going to be f-”

“Henry,” she said weakly, making his insides twist. How badly had they beaten her?

“H-henry. My-my owl. Get him first. Is-is he ok?”

“Your a bit more hurt than-”

“Please.” She cried. “Please he’s my-he’s my only friend. Please get him first. Please.” Sirius stayed quiet for a moment. He swallowed and just stared at her. “Please…” she whispered desperately.

“Ok… ok.” He said. James had arrived at the stairs and ran to the two of them.

“What happened?” He asked, Remus right behind him.

“Not quite sure. Come on.” He lifted up Y/N and she groaned again.

“Henry.” Sirius sighed and shook his head.

“And bring the damn bird,” he grumbled.

You woke up in the infirmary, god only knows how long later. It was dark now, so you definitely missed lunch. It would explain why your stomach was doing flips.

Your body ached all over, inside and out. You sat up, holding a groan in as you looked around the room. Well, as much of the room as you could see. The white sheets separated your section from the other patients’.

It was completely silent in the room. Well, except for someone’s breath right next to you. You looked over to see the one, the only, Sirius Orion Black sleeping in the chair right next to you. You stared at him for a moment and opened your mouth to say something (like you would have) when you heard someone clear their throat in front of you.

You looked to the opening of your section to see Madame Pomfrey standing there with her cart. She looked you up and down before looking to Sirius.

“You have a good friend there, you know.” You stared at her, slightly confused. She walked in, pulling the cart with her. “He refused to leave until you woke up. Poor thing must have fallen asleep waiting for you.” She hesitated and looked at you very seriously. “Don’t tell anyone I said that. I have a reputation to uphold, I trust you understand that Miss. Evans.”

“Why did he stay? What even happened? I-I don’t remember-”

“He came in here with his friends, Potter and Lupin, carrying you and an owl. The owl was easy to fix, he’s resting back in the owlery, you on the other hand were a bit of a challenge.”

“But I still-”

“You were severely beaten by one of your classmates, it appears. Mr. Black was kind enough to bring you in. I told him that you would be fine but he was quite insistent that he stayed until he knew you were better. I’m surprised he’s stayed as long as he has. On second thought-”

“How long was I out for?”

“Three days.” Your eyes went wide.

“Three-but I-how?”

“Much blunt force to your head. But you are healing nicely.” You looked over to Sirius who was slouching uncomfortably in the hard chair.

“Why did he stay?”

“As I said Miss. Evans, you have a good friend. Or are you-”

“No.” You answered, still staring at him. “No we aren’t.”

“Hm,” she hummed, checking you over. “Well, I would reevaluate the situation if I were the two of you.”

The wounds she was worried about were fine for the evening. She told you to get some rest and she would recheck you in the morning. When she left, though, you didn’t fall asleep. All you could do was stare at your tormentor and wonder why. Why was he still here? Why did he save you from Malfoy and his pack? Just why?

It was just breaking dawn when Sirius started to stir. You had been preparing yourself for what you were going to do when he woke. You were going through your options and finding a nice way to thank him and ask all your questions. But by no means were you prepared to speak with him so quickly!

His eyes opened and you stared at the stormy ones with a blank mind. It took him a minute to register that you were awake. He shot up from his chair.

“Y/N!” He was so loud it made your head spin. “Are you ok? How do you feel? What has Madame Pomfrey-”

“Why are you here?” you asked bluntly, cringing at the way it came out. He opened his mouth a few times before sinking back into his seat.

“I-I just wanted to make sure you were alright.” He stuttered. You couldn’t believe it. You had never heard anything but confidence in his voice, but now? Pain? Hurt? Worry? Unsureness? This was not the Sirius Black you had grown to hate.

You swallowed and shifted under his gaze. It was heavy. So heavy. Heavier than the canoe your uncle made you carry last summer to the lake.

“I’m fine.”

Why were your words so harsh? What was wrong with you?

You watched as he slunk back into himself further.

“Well then I guess-” he stood and panic took over your body. “I’ll leave.” He cleared his throat and pushed his hair back. You stared at the mop. Less greasy than it had been. There was no shine, it was instead like the night sky. Pitch black. So black nearly blue. It was actually mesmerizing. Naturally bouncy.

He had bags under his eyes and unease in his posture.

What was wrong with you?

He waited a second for you to say something but you never did. He hung and shook his head glumly before leaving the area. All you could do was watch him go. None of your questions answered and guilt was coursing through your entire body.

You were discharged a week later. Lily brought you your school work while you were in the hospital, but never really said much else. She still must not have gotten over when you had yelled at her, which you felt terrible about.

But now, freshly out of the infirmary, you were determined to set things right with her and Sirius. Although, you had been saying that for days now.

One day you tried to apologize when she had come to give you your work. It didn’t exactly go according to plan.

“Here is transfigurations, potions, herbology, and divinations. If you have any questions or need any help-”

“Lily, I’m sorry.” She paused and looked up from her folder.

“Sorry?”

“Uh yeah.”

“Sorry for what, Y/N/N?” You swallowed.

“For snapping at you, the other day. At lunch?”

“I remember. I’m not mad at you, Y/N/N.”

“You're not?”

“Not for that.” You stopped and stared at her.

“Then for what-”

“I’m upset that I had to find out that my twin sister has anxiety from someone other than herself.”

“You-”

“Know? Yes. I know, Y/N. Why didn’t you ever tell me? Did you feel like you couldn’t? I just… I don’t understand.” You stared at her for a moment, not knowing how to respond. Your heartbeat sounded in your ears and your breathing became restricted a little.

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Lily just shook her head and sighed. Almost like she expected you to say nothing.

“Listen, Y/N, I’m your sister. Twin sister. Does that not mean anything to you? At all? You're supposed to be able to tell me everything. So, yeah, I’m a little hurt that I had to hear this from Sirius.”

“Sirius?”

“Yes.”

“Sirius Black?”

“No, Y/N. Sirius Dawson. Yes, Sirius Black! Why? Did you swear him to secrecy? I didn’t even know you two talked.”

“We… we don’t.” She looked at you, staring for a few minutes.

“Oh.” She stayed silent and looked down. “I… well… I’ll talk to you when you get out. At James’ game, maybe? On Sunday.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” She smiled and squeezed your leg. Then she got up and left.

The first stop you made, on this particularly snowy Saturday, was to the owlery. Henry came flying over to you the second you stepped foot in the tower. He hooted and rubbed his head under your own. You giggled and scratched under his chin.

“Miss me, did you buddy?” He hooted again and you walked over to the balcony to look over the snowy scene of the Hogwarts grounds. “Look what I brought you.” You unraveled the nut and seed cake you had in your pocket and held it up to him. Henry hooted happily and started to peck away at his treat. You laughed and set him on the banister alongside the cake.

The two of you sat in silence as you stared out at the scene. Henry pecked away happily and you sat there miserable. The gears in your head spinning faster and faster as you thought more about what Lily said.

You weren’t surprised Lily didn’t know that you had anxiety. You were surprised that Sirius knew. And even more surprised to hear that he had told Lily. Why? In defense of you? You didn’t understand.

Henry hooted before flying off the edge and to someone behind you. You never saw him do that to anyone but you before. To say you were a bit jealous that he left his cake unfinished to see whoever had walked in would be an understatement. But then you turned around.

He climbed the stairs up and up to the owlery. He came at the same time every day since Y/N had gotten hurt. Henry was a very dependent and protective creature. When Sirius came the first day, he was a mess. A flurry of feathers and in such a tizzy. Since he recognized him as one of the good guys from when she got attacked, he flew immediately to his shoulder. Since then, Henry greeted Sirius each time he came to visit, each time more friendlier than the last.

Today was no different. As usual, Henry flew immediately to his shoulder and nuzzled the side of his face in greeting. Sirius chuckled and rubbed his head. He started to walk to the balcony when he noticed that today was different. Someone was standing there watching him.

You were standing there watching him.

He swallowed and the two of you stared at each other awkwardly.

“Hi.” He said when he finally found his voice again. He was so relieved to see that you were alright. You didn’t like him, he knew that. He knew why, too. He just didn’t know how to change that. The sad fact in it all was that he loved you. He had always loved you and he knew he would continue to always love you.

“H-hi.” You said, he felt his heart skip a beat. Your voice was quiet and you were fidgeting with your hands. Merlin, you were perfect.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, slowly walking over to you.

“Fine, I guess.” You answered, scratching the back of your neck. You began to fidget and Sirius could tell you were about to run. He couldn't have that. He couldn't let you leave him again. He shouldn't have left the last time, he knew that and he regretted it.

You took a step and he jumped in front of you without a plan in mind. You jumped back, startled by his sudden movement. He backed down when he noticed how he reacted and caused you to receive even further.

“Uh, sorry. I just-I want to make sure you are fine. Completely fine, and all.”

“Um… Yeah. I-I’m fine.” The silence returned as Sirius waited. He didn’t want to push you to talk, but he was a bit desperate to speak with you. He had avoided you for an agonizing week. A whole week! Well, sort of. He would often sneak into the hospital wing in the dead of night when everyone, including you, were asleep. Not like a creep like he knew it sounded, he was just worried. He always was.

From day one he had noticed your anxiety, both him and Regulus suffered from it, in different ways but still suffered from it. When he noticed your closed figure and down cast eyes first year he knew immediately that you were not ok. He had tried to be nice to you, to ease you a little bit, but nothing he did worked. It all backfired on him. And I mean all I mean ALL. Everything he would say came out wrong and every gesture he did simply made you more uncomfortable. Some time around 3rd year everything turned hostile. Your anxiety had gotten worse and instead of just shrinking away you had a tongue that was sharper than a knife. For some reason, this drew him in even more. He had no idea what had caused the switch in you, but he could tell you had become worse from when you had left Hogwarts. Ever since then, he had watch you closely, occasionally teasing you since that was the only way he could get any sort of interaction with you.

“Sirius-” He looked at you with wide eyes eager to hear what you had to say, but you stopped, leaving your mouth open. He waited. “How… How did you know about my anxiety?”

He swallowed.

“And more importantly, why did you tell Lily?” He was silent and now you waited.

“Lily was… well, she was hurt by your reaction and wouldn’t stop… um…”

“Complaining?” He hesitated but nodded. You sighed.

“I… I got tired of listening to it and snapped, I guess. She didn’t have a response.”

“You stood up for me?” He nodded. “Why?”

“Uh…”

“Why would you stand up for me against my sister and the Slytherins? Why help me to the Hospital wing and insist on staying until I wake up. Why sneak in when you think I’m sleeping?”

“You know about that?”

“Do you know how impossible it is to sleep on those beds?” you smirk. He let a crooked smile lift the corner of his mouth. “But, honestly, Sirius, why?”

“I…” He cleared his throat and itched the back of his head, looking away. Was that blush you saw on his cheeks? “I just was worried about you.”

“Why? You don’t like me.” His head shot up, eyes wide with panic which startled you.

“That's not true.”

“It-its not?”

“No.”

“But all the bullying and…”

“It's the only way I could get any sort of attention from you.” You furrowed your eyebrows, itching your hand. He could see the skin about to open, so he grabbed your hand making you jump. He placed it at your side and let go. “Listen, Y/N. I like you. I understand that you probably don’t like me. But, I had no idea how to get any sort of attention from you. I never did anything out of malice, even though it sounded like it. Honestly, I’m sorry, Y/N.”

You swallowed not knowing if you should believe him or not.

“I would like it if we could be friends, Y/N. I know what you’re going through. The anxiety.. Maybe I could help you?” You bit your lip. Should you trust him? You had never trusted anyone like this before.” Please. Give me a chance to make things right.”

You nodded and he let out a breath, one he didn’t know he had been holding. He wouldn’t mess this up. He couldn’t. Not for anything in the world.

Hey guys! Hoped you liked it! Let me know in the comments. Also let me know if you want a part two!!!!

#sirius x you #sirius x reader #sirius black #Evans!reader #fluff and angst #sirius x y/n