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#-spoken for a few days. Life just were to messed up.
s1m0nth3swag · 2 days
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Francis Mosses x GN!Reader
AUTHORS NOTE; Haven't written in a while, but thanks to Arlo, a friend (Hi Arlo, I know you're reading this), Inspiration about Francis Mosses struck (he bought me That's not my neighbor and then continued to freak out about Francis with me) so I wrote this. I have so many thoughts about Francis, so... tell me if you want more because i will deliver ngl. Enjoy (or don't, I don't dictate your feelings)
WARNINGS/ CONTENT INFO; Porn with little to no plot, Submissive Francis, a little non-consensual at the start (but not in a super weird way, imo?), Gender neutral reader (no pronouns used, tried to write as GN as possible with the compliments and thoughts about Readers appearance), not proofread nor have I thought about this much, more a drabble than an actual thoughtful story (not apologising because I had such a long break from writing anything and obviously it's gonna suck a little when I come back)
NSFW UNDER THE CUT!
The first time Francis had realised that he hadn't gotten any touch from another human being was when someone brushed up against him on his way home from work. He had felt like a creep afterwards because he hadn't stopped thinking about what could've happened if the person hadn't moved away and had just stayed pressed against him. That was a week before you started your job as a doorman.
The second time Francis had noticed was when a friend of his had spoken to him on the phone, talking about his new girlfriend. Said friend gave too much intel on their sex life. Francis had wondered if he could have someone the way his friend explained - he quickly brushed the thought off. That was two days before you started working as a doorman.
The third time, he noticed when you had smiled at him. It was your first day, and he was tired from work. You had repeated his name after reading it off of his ID, and he had looked at you for the first time since his eyes kept falling closed, and you smiled so brightly. You had told him his name was nice, and you said it again. Francis swore that the way his name rolled off your tongue was the most beautiful thing he's ever heard. Not even an angel could sound more wonderful. Suddenly, he was a lot more energised. Totally not thanks to the fact that he had immediately grown hard the second he had seen your smile. He had gone to his apartment that night and had jerked off for the first time in probably months. He had always been too tired to previously, but now he couldn't stop thinking about how you'd sound moaning his name. Maybe you were more of a groaner, or you'd whimper and whine. He came as he imagined how you'd look sucking his dick.
Since then, Francis has always looked forward to entry checks. What had normally kept him away from his bed and a good night's sleep was now the best experience of his day. He loved the way you spoke to him even though he was too nervous to respond. Sometimes, he deliberately didn't show his ID at first, just so you'd ask about it, and he could listen to you talk a little more. He felt guilty about it. He knew you had never agreed to feed into this weird little obsession of his. It was awful of him to do this - have you talk to him enough to give him more scenarios to think about that night.
A few weeks after all this had started, Francis had built up the courage to finally ask you out. Just something simple, dinner at his place. He had to cook for himself all the time. Cooking for you as well wouldn't be too different, right?
Francis was wrong. He was anxious that the food wouldn't taste good and kept tasting it just so he could make sure it hadn't mysteriously switched tastes in the last 20 seconds. When you knocked on his door, he took a minute to make sure he didn't look like a mess - though you wouldn't mind either way since he always looked like a mess when he came through during your shifts.
You looked so good when he opened the door. Your hair fell perfectly, your lips looked a little too kissable, and Francis had to stop his train of thought just so he wouldn't embarrass himself by having yet another boner caused by just the way you looked. You were a little shorter than him, smiling up as he let you inside.
"You look good." He mumbled, his cheeks flushing. He seriously had to lay off thinking like a high-schooler. His nervousness and awkwardness were getting really annoying - to him, at least. You grinned, chuckling softly as you took off your shoes. "Thank you. You do as well." His heart for sure burst at that - he knew something else would burst as well if he didn't stop thinking right this second.
Throughout the evening, ignoring his thoughts came easier and easier. The two of you had eaten, you had told him he was a good cook, he had almost excused himself to the bathroom because of it. Now you were sitting on the couch, drinking wine and talking casually.
"You know, when you first walked through, I swore I would die." You giggled, looking at him with a mischievous look. Francis was confused by that statement. "How come?" He asked, tilting his head at you in question. "I was sure you were a doppelganger. You looked too handsome to be real." You cheekily answered, cheeks slightly flushed as you downed your wine. Francis blushed heavily, looked away from you, and thought about your words for a moment. The silence was loud as he wondered what to answer. "..you think I'm handsome?" He questioned while looking at the floor. If he had looked at you, he'd have seen the way you stared at him, your own cheeks coloured a deep red. "Extremely." You muttered. It took him a minute before he could look at you, but when he did, his lips pressed against yours in a desperate kiss.
When you reciprocated, Francis groaned and pulled you closer until you sat on his lap. He was just a tiny bit embarrassed when you gasped and felt his dick press against you. In all honesty, he had held back the entire night, and he was allowed a little selfishness. "Sorry. Can't help it." He muttered between kisses. You just grinned against his lips before grinding against him. A whimper fell from his lips - that was the moment he was actually embarrassed. "That's cute.." You had mumbled, a cheeky grin on your face as you started placing kisses against his jaw and neck. One of your hands trailed down his body to rest right over his crotch, Francis unconsciously bucked his hips up against your hand, whining. He didn't notice anything else as you caught the skin of his neck with your teeth carefully, leaving the softest bite mark on him. He shuddered at the feeling and gasped before realising that you had meanwhile unzipped his pants. A groan slipped from his lips as you ran a finger over his dick, still hidden from sight by his boxers, but god knows he would cum the second you'd touch it without. "Is this okay?" You asked him, and he nodded faster than he even knew he could. "Yes. God, yes. Please, please continue.." he muttered, his breathing heavy as he watched you slide off his lap, settling in front of him and between his legs. His dick twitched at the sight, and he let out a heavy sigh. Minutes later, his pants and boxers were discarded, and the way you looked up at him, his dick so close to your face, made Francis feel the way his orgasm was approaching way too quick. The second you wrapped your hand around him he whined pathetically, bucked up into your hand and knew that he'd definitely cum too soon. Your hand was so soft, cool against his hot flesh, and you worked his dick so good he almost thought you were a professional. He looked down at you through lidded eyes, watched the way you bit your lip, and grinned knowingly. "Such a pretty boy, huh?" You chuckled, and that definitely sealed the deal for Francis. He came, probably ruining his shirt as he dirtied both it and your hand. His heart stopped for a second when you licked your hand while looking up at him. "You didn't give me enough time to taste you properly. Don't look at me like that." You huffed, rolling your eyes at him. "You should probably take off your shirt so you can clean it later." You then winked. He swiftly shed the piece of clothing, entranced by your voice and the way you looked. "Sorry, didn't mean to cum that fast.." he mutters, his voice out of breath. "Jus'.. unused to... this.." he added, clearing his throat awkwardly. You laughed and shook your head. "Don't worry about it. We have all the time in the world to make you last longer. I'm gonna give you a real reason to be tired tomorrow." You winked.
Francis didn't even mind that he was in for a long night.
Your honour I am gnawing at the bars of my enclosure.
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dragonsholygrail · 3 months
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Without Much Spoken
Astarion x gn!Reader
a/n: My first attempt at posting for bg3 and Astarion. But I plan to continue posting many more fics for not only this lil guy, but for a lot of the party! So stick around!
summary: During one night of your groups travels together, Astarion enters the room to find you overwhelmed and crying. Acting before thinking it through, Astarion comforts you.
word count: 1.1k
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Walking up the stairs of the Inn their group was staying in for the next couple of days, Astarion opens the door as he normally would, heading to bed after the exhausting day that had finally, at last, ended. He was more than ready to plop into bed and fall into a hopefully dreamless sleep. His only true escape that lasted far few hours.
But as soon as the door creaked open, a small sliver of light shining through, your sobs broke through the silence like a fierce screech. They stopped a moment after, the silence even more heavy and the tension growing thick the longer neither of you speak.
Astarion opens the door, only a bit further. Enough for the light from the hall to catch on your features. Your frozen, having fled to isolation in order to prevent this. To stop anyone from seeing you, to not bother anyone else with the weight of your intensely hyperactive feelings. Especially him. God, you didn’t want to bother him with this.
Astarion was always good for a light joke, a quick quip. He was good at that. At making things feel lighter, even unintentionally making you feel better at times. But that’s not what you wanted right now. You didn’t want to feel better in that way, you didn’t want to attempt to push aside your emotions for another, you didn’t want to just forget about what you felt. You needed to let out what was overwhelming you. What twisted your gut with anxiety, what made it hard to breathe, what sent your body into overdrive, what clouded your mind and made you feel like a complete mess.
You needed it out, and you knew Astarion wasn’t typically the one to go to with that sort of thing. You never held it against him, you cared for him, you may even love him. But you knew he had little to no experience in the ways of comforting someone. Knew he didn’t really know how to do that. So, in an action you convinced herself was selfless, you didn’t confide in him. Didn’t give him the chance to offer whatever type of comfort he possibly could provide.
And Astarion knew it all and more. With his past, he knew how to read people easily. Learning how others think was vital in his line of work, in his everyday life, in his survival… Reading you always seemed a little bit easier for him to do than it was with others. He could see what you were trying to do. The way your body stiffened on the bed, the tears both dried and fresh on your cheeks, the way your hands clenched as if you wished the ground would swallow you whole.
Astarion didn’t feel any particular way about this revelation. He could see your reasoning, your line of thinking and what brought you to the conclusions you ended up at. So he honestly couldn’t explain why he reacted the way he did.
His hand shuts the door, encompassing you both back into darkness without thought. His feet move toward you on their own. Though the darkness surrounds you both, both of your eyes end up adjusting again. You can see the way Astarion stops at the edge of the bed, his form hovering over your curled frame on the bed.
It’s without a word that he slides into bed behind you, his back resting comfortably against the headboard. His legs spread wide, giving you enough space to sit between them. His hands softly curl around you, not trying to overwhelm you even more. One hand around your stomach, feeling the erratic breaths you take as you attempts to hide your cries. The other hand over your heart, feeling its pounding rhythm, both from the mix of emotions that sent you to this state and from him finding you here. He didn’t need to do this, his hearing being able to pick it up well enough on its own. But for some reason he needed the reassurance. That it was all real.
He pulls you into his chest and you don’t hesitate to fall against him, putting your weight on him. He isn’t doing this to prove anything to you. To prove he can comfort you, if you needed him to. No, he isn’t going to make you come to him and he’s not going to make you hide. He doesn’t know why he’s done this. He just… did. Wanted to. It’s all he can grasp onto.
The feeling of him being there was enough, you realize. It had taken so much energy to try and remain still after Astarion found you, but now that he was here and he’s staying, you can’t hold it in any longer. It physically pained you beyond explanation. Sobs broke out of you, the action moving your body with its force. You couldn’t control it.
Astarion just sits there, not saying anything and not really doing anything either. But it’s more than enough. You didn’t realize how being alone had made everything so much worse. You thought that being alone, having nothing around that could possibly add to your array of emotions was what was best for you. But as you two laid together, you noticed the way Astarion didn’t add anything. The way he could actually help in ways everyone else just couldn’t seem to.
Eventually you begin to calm down, your body shaking but your emotions releasing and leaving you. That’s when you feel Astarion’s hand on the back of your head. You jump slightly, but besides that, you don’t dare acknowledge it. His hand gently starts combing through your hair. Then when he reaches the end, he brings it back to the top of your head. You sigh heavily, falling into him further. The peace of the empty silence, the darkness that covers everything, washes over you both. Neither of you seem to want to break it.
You tilt your head ever so slightly, hoping he doesn’t stop. The gesture was doing wonders to help calm you down further. You can barely make out Astarion through the darkness, but you can see enough to tell he’s simply staring ahead. It’s then you realize that he probably hadn’t even noticed what he’s doing to you. How he’s actually comforting you. It sends waves of pleasure through you, working both to overwhelm you a bit more and yet also calming you. You fall back, fully resting on him once again as he, in a way, pets you. Your eyes seemingly closed on their own.
It’s only after an unknown amount of time that he murmurs in your ear, “I’m here.”
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lesbianpepsi · 9 months
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sweet like cinnamon
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pairing: jenna ortega x blind!fem!reader
summary: you fell in love with her voice years before you fell in love with her.
link to request
series masterlist
words: 2.619k
warnings: reader makes blind jokes?, light swearing, bad writing
authors note: this isn't my best work which i heavily apologise for, life has been a real mess lately and i just haven't been enjoying it at all🫠🫠
Nobody in this world has the same voice; nobody. Some might have similar sounding voices but nobody's is identical.
You didn't really notice that until you were fifteen years old, the young tragic age you turned blind. You were the one in a million that was born with thrombophilia (blood clotting disorder) which resulted in you getting vessel occlusion in your eyes, making you slowly become more blind as the years passed until it completely vanished. 
It was horrible in the beginning, to tell the truth but as the years passed the more you got used to being blind and the more you became okay with it. 
The one thing you didn't appreciate enough when you had sight was people's voices. When that was the only thing that could help you detect who was talking to you, you became entranced by peoples voices. 
The soft spoken people, the gruffly sounding people, the neutral sounding people. You loved hearing people's voices, but there was one voice you had completely fell entranced to, like a pirate to a sirens mystical voice. 
A actresses voice. 
You have never heard such a soft and relaxing voice before in your entire life. It was as sweet as honey; warming your heart as a smile played on your lips whenever you heard the voice.
The first time you heard her voice was when you were sixteen, your friend had invited you over to watch a random horror movie 'The Babysitter: Killer Queen.' 
In honesty you didn't enjoy the movie at all, finding it boring and annoying at times. But one thing compelled you into watching it; one voice. 
The voice of the character Phoebe who was played by 'America's It Girl' Jenna Ortega. 
Her voice was so soft spoken yet it had that gentle raspiness to it that captured all of your attention, her calming voice soothing you in a way that even surprised you. 
You were utterly fixated on it. 
After that day you proceeded to find out what other movies she had been in, listening to them all at least once.
The more movies you listened to, the more you became in awe of the calming voice of Jenna Ortega.
As you grew up, your fangirl behaviour died down. You didn't religiously listen to her voice as you did in your teens, but you'd never forget her sweet voice. 
—————
"C'mon Yelena." You whispered to your guide dog, the grip to her harness in your left hand while your right hand was occupied with your mobility cane, running it along the pavement as you walked down the street, the golden retriever leading you towards your favourite cafe. 
It was a warm Thursday morning, the sun shined brightly over the town you lived in, warming you up as you walked down the quiet street.
You didn't have a particularly busy day that day, so you decided to head down to the local cafe. 
The place was a family run cafe that you absolutely adored for a myriad of reasons. Its loving atmosphere, the best coffee you ever had and your own signature booth at the corner of the cafe. 
It was honestly like your second home at this point.
As you rounded the final corner you smiled to yourself and walked over the one crooked step on the sidewalk, remembering exactly where it was like the back of your hand.
With a few more steps you felt Yelena slow down as she prepared to face the cafe door, you smiled down at her as you gave her a quick pat before you pushed the door open, the familiar ring reaching your ears as you entered the cafe. 
You and Yelena walked over to the booth in the corner with a smile on both of your lips. As you reached the booth you loosened your grip on Yelena's harness, knowing you'd be okay without her and the fact she was an extremely well behaved dog.
Leaning your cane against the corner booth seat, sighing as you listened to the sound that filled your ears.
Idle chatter heard was the first thing you could hear the second being low music that played throughout the cafe, a Taylor Swift song that you didn't know the title of. 
As you focused even further you suddenly heard quiet breathing from the booth. You snapped your head instantly in the direction of the noise, flushing red with embarrassment.
"Oh god, I'm so sorry, I didn't know someone was in the booth." You rushed out slightly embarrassed, not expecting someone in so early and in the booth.
A quiet whimsical laugh filled your ears, you tilted your head to the side. You knew that laugh, it sounded so familiar.
"No it's my fault for not saying anything before, I'm really sorry." The woman apologised back, a small laugh still noticeable in her voice.
Your eyes widened dramatically behind your thick black sunglasses, you definitely knew that voice. 
As you tried not to physically explode when you realised Jenna Ortega was sitting in front of you, you rubbed the back of your neck as you smiled crookedly.
"I should've asked if someone was here, nobody's usually at this booth, especially this early in the morning." You explained to her as you clicked your fingers, Yelena swiftly moved to your side, her harness already between your fingers.
"Honestly you don't have to apologise, we can share the booth if you'd like?" She offered in a honey sweet voice, her voice enchanting you as it did when you were sixteen.
You honestly couldn't believe your absolute luck, I mean it's not everyday you'd run into Jenna fucking Ortega. 
Loosening your grip on Yelena's harness you gave an eager nod to her, smiling brightly. "Yeah that sounds great." You told her as you slowly sat down, Yelena moving to sit down on the floor next to you.
"I'm Jenna." She says, you smile at her as you extend your hand to her direction. "Pleasure to meet you Jenna, I'm Y/n." 
Her soft hand met yours as she gave it a gentle shake, her fingers having a strong yet a gentle grip on your hand. It was as if electricity coursed through your veins the moment her palm connected with yours, tingling your entire body from your fingertips to your ears.
Your and Jenna's hands lingered there for longer than any handshake should be, as if both of you didn't want to take your hands back. 
Slowly, you and the brunette did eventually pull away as you smiled nervously at her, still heavily intimidated that you were currently sitting in a cafe with Jenna Ortega.
"Are you a regular here?" She asked once the two of you had duly pulled away, her hand grasping around her mug. You nodded your head as you smiled softly. "Yeah I've been coming here for years. You?"
Jenna smiled at you as she sipped her coffee, a gentle smile toying on her lips. "I just found this place a few months ago and have been coming here at least two times a week ever since then. I've never seen you here before though."
You snorted out a laugh. "I've definitely not seen you." 
Jenna stumbled over her words as she let out a nervous laugh, not knowing how to respond to your joke. Most people didn't know how to react whenever you made a joke about your blindness. They'd always get flustered as if they'd offend you if they'd laugh at your joke. 
"You can laugh, I wouldn't have said it if I didn't want you to laugh." At that Jenna finally let out a genuine laugh, not a nervous awkward laugh people do when they don't know whether to laugh or not.
Your heart fluttered in your chest the same way it did when you were sixteen as you heard her laugh, it still being one of the most heavenly things you had ever heard. 
As her laughter died down Jenna was leaning on her hand as she gazed at your features, a smitten smile already on her face.
"Why've you been coming here for years?" Jenna asked curiously, her sole focus still on you. You purse your lips momentarily as you think of an actual reason. "Well, I've been told the place is beautiful and they serve the best cinnamon latte I've ever tasted." 
Jenna grinned as her eyes flickered down to her drink, a cinnamon latte; her favourite.
"Is that your favourite?" She voiced as her slender fingers wrapped around the warm mug. You nodded your head with your own smile on your lips. "Yeah, been my favourite forever. The ones here are just so strong it beats any other cafe." 
Jenna hummed as she sipped her latte. "That I agree with." 
 You grinned at her as you felt more relaxed with the entire situation, relaxing into your chair as you listened intently to her.
Footsteps were heard coming in your direction, light but they were still noticeable. You moved your head in the direction of the footsteps as you smiled, you already knew who it was from the footsteps.
"Nance, great to hear you again." You greeted her with a grin, the old woman cackled as she arrived at your booth.
"Y/n, my favourite customer. How've you been, dear?" She asked as she bent down to place the dog bowl full of cold water and a few ice cubes for Yelena, the golden dog greedily began slurping away at the beverage the moment it touched the ground.
You nodded your head weakly. "Mediocre but much better now since I arrived here." Nancy let out a quick chuckle as she shook her head. "One cinnamon latte, I'm guessing?"
"You know me too well." You answered with a smile as you turned back to face the woman sitting across from you. 
"You want another one, Jen?" She asked as she turned to face her; Jenna nodded her head with a polite smile on her face. "Please."
Nancy nodded her head as she scribbled away on her christmas notepad. "Two cinnamon lattes for the two lovely ladies. Enjoy your date girls." She said with a mischievous grin that only Jenna witnessed before she turned away to go make your drinks.
You blushed heavily, looking down as you hoped Jenna wouldn't notice it. Little did you know Jenna herself had a soft blush that tainted her cheeks beautifully.
Coughing, you covered your hand with your mouth as you picked your head back up, your face facing Jenna's. 
"Great minds think alike?" 
Jenna laughed lightly as she looked at you in awe. "Only the greatest."
You quickly realised that conversation between you and Jenna flowed by swiftly. 
Jenna eventually did bring up the fact she was a well known actress, to which you simply replied with what you knew. 
She was slightly surprised but it didn't change how she spoke to you, and it never changed for you once.
Both you were so lost in your own small world in the corner of the cafe neither of you even noticed how much time had passed. 
As you were telling her the story of how you almost died twice in the same holiday her phone rang loudly, interrupting you quite rudely. 
Jenna groaned as she glanced at the screen, her face souring as she noticed her time with you was up.
"It's my manager, probably wondering where I am." She explained as she declined the call, clicking the 'Sorry, I can't call right now.' option as she shoved her phone into her pocket.
You exhaled as your fingers played with the empty mug in front of you. "Duty calls?" 
Jenna frowned as she nodded her head, growing the urge to throw her phone out the window as she felt the low vibrations of the text messages from her boss. 
"Unfortunately." She grumbled as she looked at her half empty cup of latte. You smirked at her as you stopped moving your fingers. "What, you don't wanna leave me or something?" 
"Nah, I just don't wanna go listen to my manager yap for hours." 
"Wow, being mean to a blind woman? I'll cancel you for that, Ms Ortega." You remarked with a playful smile, chuckling yourself. 
Jenna shook her head amused as she ignored the onslaught of messages from her manager.
"Cancel me? Oh no, what could I do to make you rethink your decisions?" Jenna asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she lifted her mug to take another sip of her drink.
Your mouth was running much faster than your mind, before you could even process the words coming out of your mouth you replied back to her in a confident voice.
"Take me out on a date." You answered in lightning speed with a nervous smile, a blush appeared on your cheeks moments after you noticed what you said. 
Jenna was silent for a moment, in that small moment your confidence was easily diminished as your fear began increasing as fast as your heart beat. 
"I'm sorry, I don't know where that came from. I know we just met and I probably just made you really uncomfortable." You apologised as you tilted your  head down.
"Y/n." Jenna said.
You ignored her as you kept apologising to her, you had already convinced yourself she was going to reject you and thought you were weird.
"I honestly don't know what came over me, I probably just ruined any small potential of a friendship we could've had by that." You carried on apologising, unaware of the delighted smile on Jenna's face.
"Y/n." She said with a more firm tone, her voice raised to steal your attention. Gingerly you lifted your head, that scarlet red hue still tainted your cheeks. 
"I'd love to go on a date with you." Jenna exclaimed in her sweet voice that practically made your nervous frown flip into a boisterous smile. 
"Really?" You asked in disbelief. 
Jenna laughed as she nodded her head, her smile so wide she was showing her pearly whites to the world. 
"Really." She confirmed as she lowered her empty mug, placing it next to yours. "I'd love nothing more if I'm being honest."
You beamed at her words, your heart never calmed down as you still couldn't believe Jenna Ortega said she wanted to go on a date with you.
Abruptly, Jenna's phone rang loudly once again, making you and Jenna annoyed at the distribution. 
"Can I have your number?" Jenna asked you as she ignored the ringing, you nodded your head eagerly. 
"Oh thank god you asked for it, I was so scared you were gonna say something like 'fate will  bring us together again.'" You replied as you took out your phone from your pocket, passing it over to Jenna.
She giggled as she looked for your number on your phone. "You don't believe in fate or something?"
You shook your head. "Oh no, I  believe in fate. I just don't think fate would let me magically see you and spot you in public." You joked as Jenna began entering her own number into your phone after she was done with hers. 
Jenna didn't say anything as she chuckled quietly, passing your phone back to you.
"I really have to leave now, otherwise my manager will actually send a team looking for me." Jenna apologised with a sigh. You laughed softly as you smiled as softly at her.
"I'll call you?" She asked as you heard her shuffle out of her side of the booth. Your head followed the movement of the noise, nodding your head with a smile. 
"I'll be waiting." 
"I won't make you wait too long." 
—————
a/n: fun fact, i fucking hate cinnamon with a passion
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wrongplacerighttime · 1 month
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agent!harry x agent!fmc
the one where grace wants to forget and harry doesn’t. then she disappears. // little bunny part 5
well. here we are 🥺 the last part 🥺 brb i’m actually gonna cry about it.
little bunny masterlist
wc: 6.8k
tw: kidnapping, talks of murder, hurt/comfort trope, size kink, breeding kink (think that’s all) (as always let me know if i missed any)
bitter winds
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It’s been the loneliest week of Grace’s life, she thinks. She’s been avoiding Harry like the plague, and he hasn’t necessarily been trying to see her, either. She knows she messed up, knows she broke the unspoken rule they seemed to have about not expressing feelings. It was supposed to be just sex.
They got back from Florida a few days ago, thankfully it was on Thursday and Aaron gave them Friday to rest. The weekend didn’t bring any new cases, so they didn’t speak. Didn’t have to be around each other
Harry had hovered over her name on his screen a time or two over the weekend (more like seven), and he just couldn’t bring himself to message or call. He stared at her name until the letters blurred together and it became illegible. He wanted to talk to her, but he couldn’t bring himself to take the plunge. He was afraid of his feelings, afraid of losing her because he didn’t know how to love her the way she deserved. She deserved someone good for her, and that wasn’t him…didn’t think it could ever be him. And he feels guilty—guilty that he’s taking something from her that he thinks he could never return.
Grace just doesn’t check her phone anyway, she hides under the covers and wishes it away. The feelings, the words she’d spoken…all of it. She replays his confusion on the other end of the phone, the way he said her name hesitantly, like he was warning her, at the words she had let slip. Words that were never intended to be spoken aloud. This humiliation feels like she’s stabbed herself in the chest, and his response was the twist of the knife.
——
Monday comes and Grace has to quite literally drag herself out of bed when her alarm blares through the tranquility of her room. She was half tempted to just not show up, but that wasn’t an option because she went AWOL during the last case after she confessed her love to Harry. She was angry at herself…at him. She knew it was misplaced. She had no reason to be in a sour mood, but she couldn’t help but just feel done. Her heart feels heavy in her chest, like it was full of concrete.
At the office, they keep their distance. She felt the pang in her heart when she heard his familiar footsteps walking through the door, and it took every fiber of effort to not look at him. She typed away on her keyboard, his eyes flitting to her once. When she didn’t so much as glance his way, he kept walking.
The tension was sharp, heavy. Their coworkers whispered to each other when they thought no one was listening, betting on which one would break first, sharing theories about what happened. As far as they were concerned the pair were innately opposite, but their banter kept the office light and airy. The cloud cover outside mirrored what it felt like in the office now. Cold and bitter and gloomy. Aarons door opening causes them all to look up. He looks around, raising a brow but choosing to ignore the uneasiness in the atmosphere.
“We have a case.”
——
Grace had a feeling of dread settled in her stomach the moment they landed in Caddo County, Oklahoma. It was January, it wasn’t terribly hot yet and it wasn’t tornado season, but something just felt off. She chalked it up to it being because of the case, just nervous. They made a home in the small police station, working with them to set up an area in the conference room and get to work. There have been a couple of murders in the small village of Fort Seminole. Small was an understatement. The population was less than 600 and the citizens were terrified that something like this was happening to their community. They thought it was the same person but called in the help of the FBI because they found a body dumped just three hours outside of Oklahoma in an even smaller town in Texas…and if it crossed state lines, it was a federal case anyway.
Aaron had made sure Grace and Harry were inevitably stuck working the geographical profile together, which means they would have to speak eventually. Somehow he had known that they had something they needed to work out, and he was hoping this would give them an excuse to do it.
The only sound in the conference room was the rustling of papers, cardstock and push pins. Grace had her back turned to Harry, shaking the box of pins, thinking to herself as she labeled the map. Red pins are for crime scenes and green are for the victims’ residence. She could feel his eyes on her, her heart felt like it was going a mile a minute and would beat out of her chest any second.
“Grace.” Her name coming from his lips is quiet, almost a whisper, and he’s tiptoeing around eggshells. She speaks before he can add anything else.
“Harry, listen. We don’t have to talk about it. We can just…go back to how things were before. Forget any of it ever happened, okay?” Her voice shakes, and he’s taken off guard by her statement.
“I don’t want to forget it, Grace.” His voice is soft, a gentleness she’s not used to hearing from him. It takes her by surprise. She bites the inside of her cheek, willing the stinging in the corners of her eyes to go away before she makes a fool of herself again.
“I think it’s better if we do.” She manages to say, swallowing the lump in her throat before turning back to the map so he can’t see her blinking the tears away. And he doesn’t know where this is coming from, because he meant what he said—he didn’t want to forget. He hears a sniffle coming from across the room and he watches her reach up to swipe a finger under the corner of her eye. All he wants to do is go to her, kiss her and tell her it’ll all be okay. That he feels the same.
He stays where he’s at, because if she wants to forget, he’ll try his best to forget, too.
——
Two days pass with no other incidents. They believe the suspect has likely caught wind of them being in town and has decided to lay low. They have alerts set up to send them any info on any case that is remotely similar to theirs within a 75 mile radius. Nothing, or anywhere, could be ruled out at this point. The radio never comes on, they never get any calls.
Grace chews on the end of her pen while reading over a report of the last victim. It just didn’t seem right. It felt like they were missing something. He was a single white male with no family in the area. His home had been left abandoned, frozen in time in the wake of his murder. The crime scene has long been cleaned but she believes she could still find something. She looks around, everyone else busy with their respective tasks and she decides she’ll just go alone.
“I’m going to the Jefferson house. See if we missed anything,” She mumbles to Aaron and he hums nodding once without looking up from the paper in front of him. She looks around, spotting Harry deep in conversation with a deputy and a pang stabs her heart. Her lips pressed together in a thin line, turning and walking out the double doors into the Oklahoman sunset.
The drive to the house was quick, easy to find. It was well put together, no mess or signs of a struggle inside due to the clean up crew already having gotten the place back in order. Dust rings rest on furniture, the only thing left of broken decor. The only indication a crime had happened here was the remnants of the bright yellow tape wound around the pillars of the front porch. Grace walks around, looking at the signs of someone’s livelihood, a life taken before it ever really got to begin, and she feels a twinge of guilt, grief for someone she didn’t even know. There were photos hung on the wall—pictures of the victim and their friends, pictures of their relatives with smiles so wide it was almost contagious. She shakes her head once, trying to shake away the thoughts and clear her mind.
She walks through, searching for anything that might stick out. She knew it would be almost impossible, but she was just hoping, praying, for something to catch her eye. She makes her way into the bathroom, taking in her surroundings and she spots a single drop of red on the white tile. When she bends down, she catches a glimpse of a blood soaked t-shirt in the bottom of the dirty laundry basket.
She stands, but before she can take another step, she feels a prick on her neck.
Then she blacks out.
——
When Grace comes to, her vision is blurry and her head is pounding. Her mouth feels drier than the Sahara and she tries to stand, but her legs are tied to the chair she’s sitting on, pulling on her hands she finds them bound behind her back. Her heart begins to race and her breathing becomes erratic.
“Pause. Breathe. In. Out.” She tells herself, blinking to clear the cloudiness from her dry eyes. She assesses the situation once her brain has calmed down enough to form a coherent thought. The room is dimly lit with one singular light bulb hanging over her head, the chair she’s sitting in is wooden and uncomfortable, rubbing the bare skin of her arms raw. Her hands feel like they’re bound with rope and she tries to pinpoint the nearest exit.
She can’t.
She turns the chair as much as she can without making herself topple over and she sees a set of stairs.
“Okay. I’m in a basement.” She says to herself, looking for anything she can maybe rub the rope against to loosen it or cut it. Then she hears a door opening followed by footsteps. She tries to calm her breathing and slow her heart rate. “Breathe. You’re trained for situations like this.”
A tall, burly man comes to stand in front of her. Her eyes flare with malice as he looks down at her, a scruffy beard hiding most of his lower half and a Stetson perched on the top of his head. His hair is long and greasy underneath, looking like it hadn’t been washed in days or even weeks.
He doesn’t say a word, just looks her over once from under the brim that hiding his features from her before snapping a singular picture of her with the polaroid camera she didn’t notice he’d carried in with him. The flash is blinding and leaves her vision spotty, forcing her eyes to squeeze shut. Without another word, he walks around her, back up the stairs and the door slams shut. She hears a lock twist and she’s alone again.
——
The next morning, Harry sits up in the uncomfortable motel bed, feeling like he slept on a plank of wood, and stretches his arms above his head. He’s already decided he’s going to try to talk to Grace today and apologize for being so distant. He wants to make it work, truly. He doesn’t want her to be afraid of loving him. She had left the police station around 6 PM yesterday and he didn’t see her before she came back to the motel so he decided to just leave her be when he rolled into the parking lot around 10:00. The light was off, as far as he could tell and he assumed she had been in bed already. She was always tired when they traveled outside of their own city, he had learned. She gave the excuse that it was due to not being in her own bed but he knew she was always overthinking and anxious about the cases they worked, getting too close to the families or friends of the victims and making her heart ache for them. That’s what made her a good agent, her heart was really in it to solve the case. It also sometimes got her in trouble.
He dresses for the day, brushing his teeth and looking in the mirror once before walking out the door of his room. He walks down the sidewalk of the dingy little motel, down to room 5, the one Grace would be in. He takes a deep breath, and he knocks. He waits.
Nothing.
He knocks again, “maybe she didn’t hear me?” He thinks. He waits and listens, no rustling behind the door. No footsteps drawing closer. He peeks through the window and he can just barely make out the shape of the bed that was still made through the crack in the curtains, and he thought it was unusual. Grace wasn’t the “make your bed every morning” type.
He makes his way to the station, looking around the room for her. He sees everyone except her. He starts to panic, and the room feels small and he can’t breathe.
“Styles. What’s wrong?” Aaron asks, watching Harry’s head swivel erratic like he was looking for something.
“Where’s Grace?” His words run together, tongue feeling thick in his mouth and dread forming a pit in his stomach.
“She’s probably still at the motel, I tried to call her but she didn’t answer.”
“She’s not there. The bed’s still made like she never even went in the room.” He runs a hand through his hair, heart pounding in his chest so hard he can hear it in his ears. “She’s not here and she’s not there. She’s gone. She’s missing.”
“Styles I’m sure there’s a logical explanation, let’s not jump to conclusions just yet.” Aaron tried to assure but he can’t help but feel a little scared also. He tries to call Grace again but it goes straight to voicemail. Before he can say anything, a deputy walks up to them holding an envelope. He hands it to Harry without a word, and Harry doesn’t look twice at the person handing it to him. He snatches it, flipping it over. Agent Styles is scrawled across the front. He slides his finger through the seal to open it, finding the back of a polaroid facing outwards. The same signature of the person they’re looking for. He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath before flipping it over.
It’s Grace.
Tied to a chair and peering up at the person taking the photo of her. She looks physically unharmed, and seeing her in this position breaks his fucking heart. He turns it around, shoving it in Aaron’s face.
“This logical enough for you?” He sneers before throwing it at him in a fit of rage, he doesn’t stay to watch it flutter to the floor as he turns towards the door, storming out to the sidewalk.
“Fuck!” He yells over and over, slapping his hands against the brick of the building. He leans his head against the rough wall, feeling angry and scared tears pricking the corners of his eyes.
And the only thing running through his brain is that he should’ve told her he loved her, too.
——
After a brief walk around the block to calm his brain, he walks back into the station where the energy is buzzing and nervous. He doesn’t know where to even start, like his mind has short circuited and all the knowledge he possesses about being an agent is just gone. Lost. He sees her photo up on the board labeled “missing” underneath and he almost crumbles then. He didn’t want her to be chalked up as just another person. He knew somewhere in the back of his mind that the rest of the team wouldn’t allow it to be that way, he was just so fucking nervous. He spots Aaron leaned over the table looking at a map of the area and he makes a beeline for him, dodging around busy bodies in the room.
“Aaron, we have to find her. We have to.” His voice is shaky and he feels like a small puppy standing under its owner at the gaze of his boss. Aaron’s expression softens and he gives Harry an apologetic look.
“We will, Harry.” Harry nods. “I need your head clear. Are you able to work the case? If you’re not, I need you to stand down. I need your word.”
“Yes. My head is clear. I just want her back.” He nods, his voice sounding so small in the chatter around them. Aaron gives him a knowing look, nodding once back to him.
“She told me yesterday she was going to the Jefferson house. She wanted to see if they missed anything after the scene got cleaned up. She thought something was missing from the case.” He pauses, looking at Harry who’s staring blankly at the map in front of them. “I sent Jenna and Kelly to the house while you were out. They should be arriving any moment now.”
The waiting was the worst part.
Finally, the phone rang and they confirmed that the Jefferson house is where Grace was last seen. The car she took was left in the driveway unlocked with her phone on the driver's seat, along with her badge and gun. They couldn’t track her, and whoever it was knew that was the first thing they would try to do.
Back to square one.
——
Grace doesn’t know how long she’s been down here. Her mouth is still dry from whatever drug was injected into her and she could feel the numbness tingling in her fingertips from the position of her arms. The rope had rubbed her wrists raw and if she shifted it stung, making her wince in pain. She knows the man who took her is obviously wanting her to die of “natural” causes, or else he would’ve fed her something by now.
She thinks about the team. Have they figured out she’s been taken and not just disappeared on her own accord? She’s had time to sit with her thoughts, thoughts of Harry fill her mind. Will she see him again? Before long she’ll be dehydrated. She hasn’t had anything to drink, and all he’s done is take a picture of her and leave. He hasn’t been down here again. Even then he didn’t say anything. She’s pretty sure he just wants to leave her here to rot.
She tries to think of how to get herself out. She thinks of the face she saw and what features she could make out in the low lighting and she feels like it almost looks familiar to her. The eyes peeking under the black Stetson play over and over in her head, and then she hears the door opening again for the first time since he took the photo of her. She hears his footsteps moving closer to her. No Stetson, in uniform. And when he steps in front of her, she knows then.
“It’s you.” She sneers.
——
At the station, they all read over every single thread of evidence they have, but nothing is standing out. Grace always knew what to look for, able to connect the dots faster than any of them. Kelly had fallen asleep at the desk she had made a home in, refusing to leave until something had stuck out to her. Aaron was still staring at the map, and Harry was pacing, file in hand. Grace had said it felt like they were missing something before she left and he was determined to figure it out. It was her life on the line now.
He was reading a sentence when it stuck out to him.
The woman was never physically harmed, and the man was stabbed multiple times after being tortured, cuts on his back like he was beaten with a belt. Both had a polaroid picture on their back when they died, the man left in his home with one and the woman whose body was dumped across state lines had one too. They knew this, they thought it was some kind of twisted signature.
They didn’t account for both of them having a finger cut off.
Which makes this case very similar to one they worked in Arkansas a few years ago, but they never caught the guy. They profiled the man to have been missing a finger himself, the product of very traumatic abuse in childhood. They found both parents dead, his father with belt marks on his back and beaten and stabbed. The mom was left physically unharmed.
And they found his sister tied to a chair in the basement, body still warm. Harry had pulled her restraints off and performed life saving measures. They got her back, her heart had stopped just before they found her. Once she was well in the hospital they questioned her. She told them it was her brother Jack Henderson, and they searched everywhere for him. It seemed as though he had gone on the lam, probably crossing the border and the case had been left open until they did. He was on the most wanted list.
And he had been here.
In this station.
“Aaron. It’s Jack Henderson.” Harry says without looking up, staring at the file with wide eyes. Aaron looks at him quizzically. “We just thought this guy took the fingers as souvenirs and left the polaroids as some twisted game, right? It’s him. Same MO, brutally murdered the male, female was essentially physically unharmed. Didn’t we take a polaroid from his house as evidence? We found a bunch of pictures of his tortured father, and one of his sister strapped to that chair in their basement. He’s doing this to get our attention. Trying to prove that he will get away a second time.”
“He didn’t cut off the same fingers as his though? How can you be sure?”
“He’s the one who handed me the envelope with Grace’s picture. It didn’t stick out to me until I read that the woman’s first finger had been cut off and had disappeared. He’s trying to lead us off his trail because he’s not doing it exactly the same, he’s doing just enough to get our attention.” He pauses. “When the deputy brought me the envelope, it was addressed as Agent Styles. Not Mr., not Harry. Agent. No one in this town that we’ve talked to has addressed me as agent, how would the unsub know my name unless he already knew me.” Aaron nods, taking in his theory and thinking that this is the closest thing they have to making sense.
“Aaron. He’s doing this to get back at me, for saving his sister. His sister is in WITSEC. He can’t find her to finish the job…he’s going to take Grace from me.” His voice broke on the last part, and he almost fell to the floor, his knees growing weak. He knows how long a person can last without food or water, her organs will start to shut down after three days, that’s the average. It’s been almost that.
They waste no time pulling up the file on Jack Henderson. The show his picture to every deputy before someone recognizes him. He goes by an alias, Greg Price and he doesn’t look like the same guy he used to. The only reason one had recognized him was because he had seen an old picture in Greg’s house of him and his mother. No one batted an eye when he walked in the building dressed as a deputy because they were all paying attention to their own things, and the profilers expected this to be the last place he would’ve been.
Jack was new(ish) to town. In a village of not even 600 people, people who’d grown and lived their entire lives here, he’d never not be the new guy. He showed up with a moving truck and bought a house just outside of town. He’d faked his identity, his qualifications, and ended up being hired as a deputy not long after he moved here. They’d had his address, jumping into vehicles as the sheriff escorted them down the winding roads with lights and sirens.
They whipped into the yard, Harry not wasting any time by throwing the door open and jumping out before the car was even shifted into park. He draws his weapon, kicking open the door left cracked. The house is eerily quiet as he moves through the rooms, taking the role of point and clearing them with Aaron following his direction. They come to a door that’s locked with a chain lock and deadbolt.
Harry quickly turns the lock, undoing the chain and hesitantly makes his way down the stairs. He looks right, then left and there she is. Grace. All thoughts clear his brain besides any that have to do with her. He runs the short distance, dropping to his knees and taking her face between his hands, lifting her head as it lulls to the side.
“Grace. Wake up, baby.” He lightly taps her cheek and her eyes flutter behind her closed lids. He reaches behind her, untying the knot keeping her hands bound and they fall to her side. She’s weak, having passed out a short time before they got there. He checks her pulse, slow but steady enough to not cause concern and he blows out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in.
He unties her legs with one hand, taking her and carrying her up the stairs and to the medic on the scene. He stays with her as they hook her to an IV, poking her several times before they are able to find a vein not affected by the dehydration. They informed him where they were taking her but he insisted on riding with her, wanting to be there if she woke up and didn’t know where she was. He holds her hand to his lips, kissing her knuckles and willing her to open her eyes and just look at him so he could talk to her. He runs his fingers over the angry red marks left on her wrists and he curses himself for not being there sooner.
Things pass in a blur after that, the adrenaline of the past few wearing off and exhaustion taking over his body. He stays with her until they clear her to leave, and she doesn’t talk. Doesn’t say a word, not for a few hours at least.
“I’m sorry.” He hears her whisper finally, looking out the window. “I should’ve taken someone with me.”
“It’s not your fault. Please don’t blame yourself.” He reassures her, and she nods once, and that’s all she says.
The morning hours creep into the sky, Aaron comes to get them, taking them back to the motel. Harry walks Grace to her room, unlocking and opening the door for her.
“Do you want me to stay?” He asks, brushing her hair behind her ear and she shakes her head as she leans into his touch. He wanted to say the words, seeing the sadness and pain in her eyes all he wanted to do was say them. He swallows them down.
“No. I’ll be okay. I just need a shower, and sleep. Still tired.” He nods, hesitating to leave her, not wanting to take his eyes off her ever again. But he lets her be alone, trudging back to his own room and collapsing into the bed.
She sits in the shower after scrubbing her entire body raw, hugging her knees to her chest and letting the water run over her until it’s freezing and she’s shivering and she forced herself to get up. She dresses, going to the bed and pulling the covers up to her chin, daylight filtering through the window.
She doesn’t sleep.
——
Later that night, when they’re back in D.C, Harry takes her hand and leads her into her apartment. It’s the first time he’s been here and it’s just so…her. She hasn’t said much, and he doesn’t expect her to. Her mind is still reeling from the traumatic events of the past few days.
“Do you want to eat or anything?” He asks, his voice quiet and timid. She shakes her head, having no appetite. She swore to Aaron on the jet that she would never step foot in the state of Oklahoma ever again, and he told her she wouldn’t have to. He would make sure of it. They ended up finding Jack heading West out of the state, likely back towards Mexico. She’s not looking forward to the trial she’ll inevitably have to sit through and recount the experience.
“Okay.” He nods, looking around, shoving his hands in his pockets as he faces her. One arm crossed over her chest and she looks at the floor, tears brimming her lashline and she tried to blink them away, feeling like her emotions are a rollercoaster she can’t get off of.
“Just wanna go to bed, I think.” She mumbles. He nods, moving to walk around her and leave but she stops him.
“Wait.” She grabs his arm, looking up at him with pain in her eyes and he almost crumbles right then. “Don’t go. Please. I don’t want to be alone right now. Will you stay?” And he would, a million times over just for her. He’d do anything for her.
“Yes, baby. Of course. Just didn’t know if you’d want me here.”
“Always want you with me.” She looks towards the floor again, her voice sounding so small and he moves closer, placing his hands on either side of her face and forcing her to look up at him.
“I know, sweet girl. Always want you with me, too. Never gonna let you out of my sight again, okay?” He looks at her, his eyes flitting between hers and she nods, her bottom lip quivering as he pulls her into his chest and wraps his arms around her. She fists his shirt and he kisses the top of her head ever so gently, the sweet smell of her hair filling his senses and she’s all he knows. All he ever wants to know. “Let’s go to bed.”
She leads him down the small hallway to her room, but he leads her to her bed and makes her sit on the edge. He goes into her closet and picks out something for her to wear to bed, something comfortable and he kneels in front of her, untying the laces of her boots and pulling them off of her. Taking her hands in his, he brings her wrists to his mouth and kisses over the marks left on them, gently so as to not irritate them further. He runs his hands from her calves up to her thighs, flicking the button undone and she shifts her hips as he pulls the denim from her legs. Leaning in, he peppers small kisses right above her knees and savors the feeling of her skin against his lips. She watches him below her, a heat swirling just below her navel and she forces her mind away from those thoughts. He reaches up, lifting the hem of her shirt as she raises her arms, discarding the t-shirt on the floor with her jeans. He swallows when he notices her chest is bare, her nipples hardening when the cool air hits her skin and she sucks in a breath. His hands run up her thighs and grip her hips, pulling her body closer to him. Grace tangles her hands in his hair at the nape of his neck like she knows he likes,dipping down and brushing her nose against his. He smiles, looking over her features with admiration in his eyes. Her freckles spanning over her cheeks, the pink of her lips that he loves to kiss, her eyes so blue he could swim in them. She nudges him again, finally touching her lips to his.
He kisses her gently, not wanting to lead her into anything she might not want to do. She pushes her lips against his, and he sucks in a breath through his nose as she arches her back. Her chest presses against him and his hands sprawl across her back, holding her as close as he can get her. He sighs against her lips, moving to crawl over top of her and slotting his knee between her thighs without breaking their kiss. She lays back, his arms caging around her head as his muscles flex and extend to bear his weight. Their tongues dance together now, and she whines into his mouth causing him to pull away just enough to look at her.
“Grace.” He says her name breathlessly, his brows furrowing together slightly. “I don’t wanna hurt you, baby. Just got you back. We don’t have to do this.” She shakes her head, her chin jutting upwards and pushing her body into his again.
“You won’t. Promise. Just need you. Missed you so much, Harry.” She whispers, but she can still see the uncertainty in his eyes. “Please. Help me forget, just want to forget about it for a while.” Her voice wavers slightly and he nods once. She grinds against his leg and her eyes flutter closed as a jolt of pleasure runs down her spine, and how can he resist when she just looks so pretty underneath him like this? He shifts his weight to one arm, his fingers dancing down her skin so delicately. He feels the way her stomach flexes under his fingertips, sensitive and wanting to push against him more. He grips her hip, fingertips dimpling the skin underneath and she wraps her legs around his waist. He grinds against her, creating friction between them as she moans into his mouth.
“Fuck, Grace. You get me so worked up. Wanna fuck you, but just wanna take care of you.”
“Please, Har. Please. Fuck me.” She begs and he smirks at her eagerness, dropping his head to her shoulder and sinking his teeth into the skin of her collarbone. Her hips rut against him and she cries out, the sensation taking her off guard before he soothes with his tongue and kisses so gently. He pushes himself up onto his knees, undoing his belt and unbuttoning his jeans. Grace watches him through hazy eyes and she takes her bottom lip between her teeth.
“So pretty.” He mumbles from above her, pulling the belt from the loops and she wants to squeeze her thighs together but his body between them blocks her from doing so. He pushes the both his jeans and briefs down in one go, kicking them from his legs as he wraps his own hand around the base of his hard cock and tugging a few times before he leans back over her. She can feel the tip of him nudging at her hole through the material of her underwear and she reaches between their bodies. She wraps her own hand around him, his head dropping to her chest and he swears under his breath.
“Please.” She whines, begging him for anything he’ll give her. Truthfully, he’s just so caught up in having her back that he wants to just savor the moment, take his time with her. Something he doesn't get to do often. He moves the material of her underwear to the side, dragging a finger through her arousal and collecting it there. He brings it up, taking it into his mouth and wrapping his lips around it, tasting her.
“Taste so sweet, bunny. Sweetest I’ve ever had.” He whispers in her ear and she swears she can feel herself melting into the mattress. Unable to wait any longer, he pushes her panties down her thighs and she kicks them off. Harry drags the tip of his cock through her folds once before pushing against her weepy hole. He’s so used to just pounding into her, and he likes the change of pace. Likes watching her squirm while she waits, trying to buck into him and get more of him inside her.
“Let me go slow, Grace. Just got you back. Let me take my time with you.” She nods slowly and he smiles down at her. “That’s my girl.” He feels her clenching around almost nothing and he throws his head back, eyes fluttering closed as he pushes ever so slowly into her. So tight he’s seeing stars. Her jaw goes slack and all she can do is take it, insatiable for the feeling of him stretching her and filling her.
“So fucking tight, bunny. Gonna squeeze the life out of me.” He grumbles. He grabs her hips again, squeezing and he lifts her so slightly to adjust the angle. He pushes all the way in, dropping his gaze and watching the way he disappears inside her. He could almost cum right then.
“Fuck, barely fits doesn’t it? Taking me so fucking good, sweet girl. Look at you.” He croons, his words pushing through the pleasure buzzing around her brain and she wiggles her hips, bucking up into him before he forces them back down. He pulls out at a torturous pace, her arousal coating him and sending his brain haywire.
“Kiss me.” She breathes out, and he does. He pushes back into her, leaning over her and forcefully pressing his lips to hers. They’re a mix of pants and moans as he sets his pace, comfortable and slow, allowing her to feel every inch of him. The stretch feels like a delicious mix of pain and pleasure, and every time his hips meet hers she can feel him so fucking deep inside her she could cry. “So deep Har, feels so fucking good.” Her back arches off the bed and he kisses the valley between her breasts as she fists the sheets beneath them.
“Yeah? Feel me all the way in your belly?” He feels a haze settling over his mind and he takes her hand, bringing it between their bodies and resting her palm just below her navel with his hand over hers. He presses her hand down slightly, and as he drives into her again and again she feels tears brimming her lash line at the sensation, a smirk painted on his face. “Feel that? Know you do. Only I can do this, right bunny? I’m the only one who can fuck you like this.” He mumbles into her ear and she nods wordlessly, unable to form a coherent sentence. “There you go, baby. Feel so fucking good around my cock.”
“More.” She gasps and he obliges, picking up his pace slightly and he hits just the right spot every time. She knows it’s coming, dangling by fingertips on the edge of that blissful feeling as she feels the spool begin to unravel.
“Gonna get you all full of me, sweet girl. Let me give you my babies, yeah? Give you everything, be such a good mama.” He grits out through his teeth clenched together and she feels dizzy, his words penetrating a spot in her brain she didn’t know existed until him.
“Fuck, Harry.” She whines and he smiles against the curve of her neck, knowing she loves when he talks to her like this.
“Yeah? Like the thought of that? Look so fucking cute with your belly all swollen ‘cause of me. Know you would.” He mumbles and he’s picturing it, picturing it all in his brain and trying to hold onto his release as long as he can. His hips rock into her and she’s still got her hand on her belly and he dips down, attaching his lips around one of her hardened peaks on her breast and her body jolts, her pussy squeezing around him. He knows she’s close. He rolls her nipple between his teeth, flicking with his tongue and he feels her fluttering around him.
“Please Har. Need it so bad. Please cum in me, please.” Her words are jumbled and falling from her lips with ease.
“Never wanna be without you, sweet girl. Love you so fucking much.” He’s a mess of moans and whispering sweet nothings in her ear, determined to never let her question his intentions ever again, and it sends her over, eyes squeezing together so tightly she sees stars. The thread unravels and she throws her arms around his neck, holding him close to her. Her legs wrap around his hips and he thrusts into her one more time before he’s filling her to the hilt, spilling his warmth into her. And it’s so warm, making her head feel fuzzy.
They lay there, legs still wrapped around his hips, sweaty skin sticking together. He pulls back and a lazy grin spreads across her face when his eyes meet hers. She brings her hand up, poking a finger to his nose and he smiles wide at her, a sparkle dancing in his eye and just being in awe of her beauty…her flushed cheeks, her wet lashes, her swollen lips from kisses, her little baby hairs sticking to her temple with sweat. And they stay there, holding each other, saying I love you through light touches and longing gazes, without using any words.
But they don’t need to.
They just know.
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taglist: @indierockgirrl @hermionelove @storyschanging @hannah9921
divider by @saradika-graphics 🫶🏻
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buckyysdoll · 8 months
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— 𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮 —
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જ⁀➴ — • summary: off from work sick, you cancel your date — but that won’t stop spencer plans <3; • a/n: this scenario has been in my head for almost two years, and i finally wrote it !!; • cw: none, but themes of sickness (flu); • pairing: spencer reid x f!reader
MAIN MASTERLIST
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Thirty minutes after your phone call, your apartment doorbell rang out with a buzz — thankfully not so obnoxiously loud as the shrill, high notes of the one you’d once owned.
You groaned, debating what to do, and the headache at your temples only throbbed ever harder. You’d only just managed to get comfortable, and would be well damned if you had to get up.
If you left it, you thought, perhaps whoever was there would just then leave. For all that they knew, you might’ve been out, and why not? You’d just let them believe it. Right now just the thought of leaving your couch had you mourning the loss of its warmth, already missing the relative comfort of where you’d been laying for most of the day.
It was just your luck to be sick on the first day off that you’d had in five months; life in the BAU had its stressors enough and now this? The world sure had its humour.
It seemed to be flu, or something similar — and now in November, it was hardly unlikely. After three bouts of nausea, those flushes of both hot and cold, you were truly fatigued. Somehow though, neither one of those bothered you more than one fact in particular:
You’d had to cancel your date with fellow agent turned close friend, Spencer Reid.
Your blanket and tissues and trashy tv was now all that tonight had in store.
When you’d spoken to him on the phone, he’d hidden his disappointment well; it was an undercurrent beneath the much greater worry for you, for how sick you were feeling. But then, what really did you expect? This was Spencer — of course he’d been understanding. He’d hoped you’d feel better as soon as you could, even offered to do “anything that might help.”
But you’d firmly insisted that after such a long shift working a case, the very last thing he needed was sickness from you if your influenza spread.
A knocking sounded at the door, just three short raps. Polite, uniform. It was enough to pull you out from your thoughts and resign yourself to opening the goddamn thing.
You hobbled up to your feet. Even just standing, your head spun, prickled; you waited until you regained your balance. When at last you did, you mumbled a quick “I’m coming” before with great effort, trudging to the door.
Your progress was slow, the blanket that had covered your legs now tossed over your shoulders. It was draped on each side so that it almost drowned out your whole form, and that was how you answered the door.
Hair a mess, dark circles in moon crescents just under your eyes, most likely snot clearly plain on the tissue that you clutched to your face — and on the doorstep, Spencer.
Shock registered dimly, followed by an immediate warmth. Whoever you’d expected it hadn’t been him, and yet just the sight of him spiked up your pulse.
“Spence? What are you doing here?” Acting on instinct, you opened up the door wider. There he stood, still in his smart suit, fresh from work with that wind-tousled hair. His eyes were concerned, and you knew that look well, saw it etched on each well-loved part of his face.
Spencer’s gaze swept over you, by no means brazen — uncertain, unsure. “Well you’re sick, so we obviously can’t go out anymore. But I grabbed some of your favourites, and just thought we could stay in …”
His voice was matter of fact, just like always, no nuance and only slight nerves. You hadn’t even noticed the brown paper bag that he clutched to his chest, but did now.
Your favourites.
It was something so simple, so endlessly thoughtful that your heart leapt with something unnamed. This was only the second ever date that you’d had since meeting some few months ago; you’d both taken time, seemed to waste it, hoping that the other one would ask first. And he did.
But you weren’t quite ready to name the soft feeling that had your chest aching inside you, couldn’t quite speak around the lump in your throat that could only be love, or close enough to it.
Spencer must’ve taken your silence for no, and when he next spoke, was less sure. “I was hoping that maybe … I could be here, tonight? You need your rest, and I know that you cancelled, but I guess I just thought I could be here to help —”
He was rambling. Actually rambling. That sense of heartache only ricocheted higher. You watched as one hand went up, streaked back through his hair, and he realised that he’d over-spoke.
His eyes gladly landed anywhere but on you, and you’d never felt more devastated.
You reached for his arm, and steadied it where it had reached for his hair once again; you knew him so well, each and every nervous habit, and his tells were second nature to you by now. It was only at your touch that his eyes at last stilled on your face. And this time, they didn’t leave.
“Spence, I was just gonna say that I really don’t wanna make you sick, too.” Your heart rate was spiking with affection for this boy who had a blush rising soft on his cheeks. His smile was quiet, eyes warm, as though he hadn’t just moved you with the sweetness of the gesture he’d made.
He’d come to your door with snacks, medicines — everything you’d need to feel better — just so he could be here, could take care of you, while you were too sick to go on your date.
“I’d really rather be sick with you than alright with anyone else.” And oh god. The crimson shade to his cheeks after that had your stomach going wild in flips — the way that he’d spoken the words so quickly as though they’d been instinct, as though he’d meant to just think them.
You couldn’t stop staring at him.
In this moment, he wasn’t Doctor Reid — unassuming, modest owner of three phds. He wasn’t just Spencer, so sweet and kind underneath the sure genius and practical skill.
No. Right here, he was Spence — and you, the only one who gave him that name. He was the boy on your doorstep that over the months that you’d known him — you’d now come to love.
His smile grew and so did yours; those thoughts were so plain on your face. Your plans for the night had just got that much brighter than you’d thought just ten minutes before.
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jellys-compendium · 22 days
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Lovebug
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Rating: Explicit (18+ Only, Minors DNI)
Pairing: Sinister!Vash x f!Reader Word Count: 7.9K Summary: You've been running for a long time, miraculously evading the destructive storm on your heels. But one fateful night you find yourself trapped and unable to escape the humanoid typhoon any longer. He'll make you regret running from him. Cw: blood, gun violence, side character death, noncon to dubcon, predator/prey dynamics, smut, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, semi-public sex, rough sex, p in v sex, gunplay, choking, vaginal fingering, oral (f!receiving), cumming inside, dacryphilia, yandere, obsessive/possessive behaviour, manipulation, mind breaking, pet names, degradation & praise.
A/n: This is a dark fic. Read the content warnings before proceeding. If this sort of writing isn't your thing, please don't read! I will have a softer fic for Vash coming in the near future. Also, just a quick note that for narrative purposes , I decided to interpret Sinister!Vash as Vash turning evil (not as a separate entity).
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The sharp scent of rust lingers in your nose. It couples with the muted dusty air and further serves to dry out your parched throat. Each time you swallow in an attempt to alleviate your thirst, it feels like sandpaper scrapes along your esophagus. Money be damned, you would trade every last double dollar you own for a glass of water right now.
Unfortunately for you, not a single one of the sheriff’s men had come to check up on your sorry state since you’d been caught, cuffed, and thrown into this dingy cell hours ago. They’d locked you in here and thrown away the key as it were. Guess you shouldn’t be surprised, given the bounty on your head.
Heaving a sigh, you lean back against the cold concrete wall of your prison, your movement causing the tattered and smelly cot supporting you to creak and groan. With little else to do, your mind wanders to the earlier events of the day.
How did you get yourself into this mess? 
You’d been so painstakingly careful to keep your head down and profile low in every town you had passed by for the last year. Not a single soul, let alone law enforcement, had ever suspected that you were the former partner of the legendary humanoid typhoon. So how is it that the sheriff of this backwater little town had you figured out the moment you’d set foot in his jurisdiction?
With a metaphorical fine toothed comb, your mind analyzes each and every interaction you’ve had since the morning, searching for clues on how you’d been discovered—but nothing clicks into place. You hadn’t spoken a whisper about your true identity, or about Vash, to anybody since you’d quit and run from his company of outlaws.
On top of that you were careful to cover your tracks, doing everything in your power to erase all that you were before disappearing into the night in a hail mary attempt at a better life—one that wasn’t tainted with lies and blood. 
A gnawing sorrow aches in your chest at the thought of your former lover, and you can’t help but reach up and rub over that hollow space under your breastbone. Deep down you still love Vash more than anyone else but…you will have no part in his cruelty.
You don’t know when it started, but Vash had changed into a person you no longer recognize. Gone was the kind gunman clad in red with a broken smile, and in his place emerged another person entirely. He was vicious, manipulative, and cruel. Taking lives without regard in order to get what he wanted. Within the span of a few months, Vash had truly transformed into the monster that the people of this planet fear him to be—and that had completely and irrevocably broken your heart.
For months you had feared that Vash would pick up on your trail and track you down in retaliation for your abandoning of his little group. But as the weeks stretched on, the suns rising and falling with each passing day, your nerves settled and you surmised that Vash must have had better things to do rather than chase you down.
‘He must have found someone else to warm his bed by now.’
The intrusive thought clings to your mind incessantly, and you desperately attempt to force it away with a shake of your head. No. You’d left that life behind, you’ve left him behind for a reason . 
Vash would have devoured you—consumed you whole and then spit out your bones if you hadn’t left when you did. The way Vash makes you feel is beyond anything you had ever experienced before. He’s intoxicating, addicting, seductive—a devil that beguiles you with sweet whispers in one ear, while holding the barrel of a gun against the other. 
For a time, you had lost yourself in his coils—exchanging your humanity for a burning desire that had scorched your body and soul. But before the humanoid typhoon could corrupt you completely, you escaped.
And…you ran.
And ran,
And ran.
Until that murderous, crimson eyed shadow that followed each of your footsteps surrendered to the sunshine above, and disappeared amidst the blistering sands of No Man’s Land. You were finally free, and although there is a dark and secret part of you that still longs for Vash, you know that you did the right thing.
Abruptly, a distant rumble captures your ear. Perking up, your gaze is led from the dark shadows in the corner of your cell towards the distant door leading out of the jailhouse’s cell room. Your body stills as the roaring commotion gets louder, your muscles sit taut as you listen and try to decipher the noises coming from beyond the bars.
You hear footsteps, shouts and— gunfire .
Gunfire, then screams.
Adrenaline kicks into high gear and you immediately get up from the stained cot, racing towards the door of your cell. Your cuffed hands grasp the cold bars of your prison as more blood curdling screams fill the air. Was it a robbery? Bandits? Or could it really be?
The monstrous possibility of what awaits just beyond that door sends you into a panic. Panting frantically, you use your entire body weight to rattle the bars in a foolhardy attempt to wiggle the cell door free. But of course, the iron door does not budge.
‘No.’ You ram your shoulder against the door.
‘No!’
Your arm screams out in pain as you use your entire body weight this time.
‘This can’t be happening! It can’t be him!’
“Sheriff!! Sheriff!!” You shout desperately. “Let me out! Let me out!”
The terrible thundering of gunshots and panicked commotion intensifies. Pounding footsteps race down the hallway and shake the floorboards just beyond the prison cell door. You shudder when you hear the terrified screams from the men warbling through the wood and concrete, sharp and horrifying but then—silence.
Oh god. They’re all…
Blood pulses in your ears, making you feel faint as the song of more bullets sings through the air. Even from your iron cage, you can tell the shots are precise—every single one effectively ending the lives of the Sheriff's men one by one. Within mere moments, the once lively jailhouse had become as silent as a graveyard. The only sounds you hear now are a single pair of creaking footsteps and…a song.
“Total slaughter~
Total slaughter
I won’t leave a single man alive…”
Oh god—it is him . 
Releasing the bars of your cell door, you frantically begin to look around the dim lit space. A bucket and the cot are all you have to work with. Shit.
The footsteps come closer.
“...La dee da dee die
Genocide~
La dee da dee dud
An ocean of blood…”
You detect a sound of heavy shuffling just outside and you look on, terrified , as the door leading to the jail’s cells creaks open. You freeze, legs nearly giving out from fear, but…it isn’t Vash.
Instead, into the room crawls a man—a man that you recognize as the Sheriff's deputy. He’s breathing hard, petrified little whimpers escaping his lips with each exhale. 
Trapped as you are you can do nothing but watch, wide eyed and horrified, as the man crawls into the room on all fours. His brown vest, white shirt, and slacks are covered with blood. More of it drips from his disheveled hair, leaving a gruesome trail of dark red as he shakingly makes his way across the floorboards and towards your cell. 
The deputy’s face is pale white and pouring sweat as he looks up at you…except he isn’t looking up at you. It almost looks like he’s looking through you.
“M–m–monster…h–he’s a monster.” The man whimpers, his red teeth chattering like tin cans in the wind. Trembling, the deputy reaches towards your cell door with a bloodied hand and his eyes finally lock with yours.
“H—help me.”
The sight of this man near death immobilizes you with terror, but as the man’s fingers wrap around one of the bars of your cell, the urgency in your gut magnifies, overwhelming the piercing fear inside of you. You have to try and save him. You have to.
Moving quickly, you squat down, reaching for the deputy’s hand, you grasp it tightly with yours.
“Give me the keys. Help me open the door so I can get us out of here.”
But the man doesn’t move. Instead he mutters and weeps, his voice strained and high with each incoherent syllable he babbles.
Frustrated and frantic, you bang your hand against the bars, hoping that the jolt will startle the deputy to his senses. 
“Hey! Are you listening?! Give me the keys or he’s going to—”
A piercing gunshot rings through the air and you leap up with a shout as the air rushes out of the deputy’s lungs. The deputy’s eyes turn dull, and you cry out in horror as his body jerks and then falls still at your feet.
He’s…he’s…
“Let’s begin…
The killing time” 
It takes all the courage you have left to lift your gaze and follow the blood stains left by the deputy. Eventually, your eyes land on a black pair of leather boots. Moving upwards, your sight lingers along the familiar dark blue coat tails—their ripped and tattered ends doused with fresh blood. Your attention moves up that infamous coat and finally lands on the face of the humanoid typhoon himself.
Vash the Stampede.
The outlaw’s crimson eyes stare directly into your own, shackling you in place more effectively than the metal cuffs around your wrists ever could. His eyes are intense as they focus on you, possessive and all consuming. It was only a matter of time before he found you, and you were an idiot to think that you could evade him forever.
As if agreeing with that very thought, a sly grin spreads across Vash’s handsome face. Like a ravenous wildcat who had finally caught his prey, the humanoid typhoon exhales a breath of relief and holsters his gun. 
“There you are.”
Vash approaches your cell and all you can do is silently watch as he bends down and yanks the ring of keys off of the deputy’s belt. Vash is methodical as always. Moving like a serpent in water, he never wastes a single movement. Each and every action of his is calculated and designed to lead him towards his ultimate goal.
And tonight, his goal is you.
Vash never takes his eyes off you as he slips the key into its slot with a poignant click. Then with a flick of his wrist the door unlocks, and Vash swings it wide open.
Your body’s response is immediate. Trembling, you retreat blindingly backwards until your body hits the concrete wall of your cell. Vash tsks, following your movements with inhumanly long strides of his own. It only takes a second for him to catch up with you—his body towering over yours once he closes that distance you were so desperate to create.
You jolt as Vash’s hands reach up and grasp your own, leather clad fingers lacing around your trembling digits as he lifts your cuffed wrists to his face. He leans down, and brushes his lips along the cold flesh of your palm, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. 
“Oh my poor little lovebug.” Vash sensually coos, his deceivingly soft and gentle voice echoing along the iron bars. “What have they done to you?”
Gods, you should be repulsed and terrified, but instead of turning your blood to ice, Vash’s touch causes your entire body to instantly be consumed by a sweet and agonizing flame. The cinders that linger in your heart reignite and burn tenfold at the touch of the man that you love so dearly.
“Lovebug.” 
Like a siren, Vash’s hypnotizing whisper lulls away your fear—enchanting you.
“So frightened. You’re shaking like a newborn kitten. Come here, let me hold you.”
As if the choice were yours, Vash pulls your body flush against his. You gasp as the familiar sensation of his strong arms wraps around you and overpowers your resolve. His warm scent, the feeling of his lips as he so tenderly kisses your cheek, the weight of his hands as they glide up and down your back in a soothing motion. All of it brings tears of turmoil to your eyes.
No…this can’t happen again.
“I’m sorry, lovebug. If I had known they would treat you like this I would have come for you sooner.”
Come for you? As in, Vash knew where you’d been this entire time?
Your mind reels at the realization. You had never escaped Vash’s shadow. Instead it had grown so large and widespread that you’d failed to notice it all around you. 
The people who let you on your way and turned a blind eye to your identity, those kind souls who had given you food to eat and a bed to sleep in when you were weary, even the men of this town who had arrested you as an accomplice of the humanoid typhoon. Every single one of them had been an instrument of Vash’s own design.
Vash places a final kiss upon your cheek. Pulling back, he smiles at your dumbfounded expression.
“Let’s get you out of these cuffs.”
Vash lets your hands fall, his fingers flicking through the keyring until he finds the one he is looking for. How Vash knows exactly which key to use, you are not sure, but it’s no surprise when he selects one and slips it into the cuff’s lock. He frees you immediately with a twist of his hand.
The metal cuffs fall to the floor with a resounding thud and your breath leaves you in a hiss as the dry hair hits your raw skin. But before you can soothe your own pain, Vash takes your wrists in his grasp, thumbs gently gliding over the reddened skin as he pulls you closer once more.
Your heart nearly leaps out of your chest when you feel Vash lean in, the heat of his body encompassing as his lips brush against yours.
“Have you learned your lesson? You won’t run away from me again, right lovebug?”
Vash’s sinister words send a shiver down your spine. Goosebumps erupt all across your flesh as the skin on your fingertips tingles. This man has orchestrated every part of your life for the past year without you even knowing about it. What are the limits to his reach? His cruelty? His obsession? How far will he go to claim you as his own?
In your silence Vash releases a heavy sigh, then places a soft kiss on your lips.
“I asked you a question.”
The words catch in your dry and tightening throat. You swallow, lips trembling as you try your best to speak.
“Vash, I—”
Before you can finish, pounding footsteps vibrate through the jailhouse, and it’s not long before four men appear in the doorway with guns drawn and their expressions terrified at the massacre laying at their feet.
The moment the men lay their eyes on Vash, the four of them let out a roar of fury.
“The humanoid typhoon!”
“You bastard!” 
“Kill him!”
But before the men manage to aim their pistols, four gunshots whistle through the air in rapid succession. You didn’t even realize that Vash had unholstered his own gun before the four men dropped lifeless on the floor.
A fresh wave of despair courses through you and your head spins as the humanoid typhoon—the diablo —reholsters his gun and returns his attention to you. His face is calm and unbothered, as if he hadn’t just murdered an entire building full of people.
“Now, where were we?”
Panic stabs through your chest, kick starting your fight or flight. You have to get away, you have to escape him. Being a murderer, an outlaw on the run, isn’t who you are anymore. You’d promised yourself that you would leave that life behind, no matter how much you wanted the man who’d seduced you into that life in the first place.
Clenching your fists to try and subvert your shaking, you start to move your body to the right, readying yourself to pounce around Vash and make a break for the door. But Vash’s scarlet gaze sees through your every move long before you even conceptualize it. He sighs, rolling his eyes before slamming his palm on the concrete by your head, trapping you in his reach.
Your body jolts at the vibrations of the impact. Then Vash leans in, hot breath on your lips as he whispers a dark promise.
“Don’t run, lovebug. I’ll make you regret it.”
No sooner had Vash uttered those foreboding words, more footsteps pound through the halls of the jailhouse. An irritated growl rumbles in Vash’s throat as he unholsters his gun once more and aims it at the door, hissing between his teeth.
“Cockroaches.”
Two more men emerge from the doorway and time slows as you watch Vash’s finger glide seamlessly towards the trigger.
Against all reasonable sense, your body moves. Lightening fast, you launch yourself at Vash, grasping his wrist in your hands and pushing his arm upwards with all of your might. Your sudden movement takes the humanoid typhoon off guard, and the two bullets he had intended to place right between the men’s eyes whistle and lodge into the wooden roof above.
“RUN!”
Using your body to knock Vash off balance, you bolt for the cell door, leaping over the bodies on the floor as the two men in front of you turn tail and run as fast as their legs can carry them. 
Your lungs burn as you follow them, racing out of the jail as if it were about to be engulfed in a raging inferno. Following closely behind the men in front of you, the three of you eventually manage to scramble out of the jailhouse. The cool night air hits your face and you pause. The street is dark and empty, and the two men who had just run out before you were racing towards the light of the neighboring town. 
You desperately want to follow them, to find sanctuary in the safe bustle of a populated town square. But Vash has his sights set on you, and you know you’ll only serve to put more innocent lives at risk if you look for help now.
The sudden sound of eerie humming echoes through the jailhouse behind you. You turn, body trembling and eyes wide as you search the darkness. Then almost as soon as that strange tune had started, it stops. 
A cold shiver of fear tingles down your spine at the foreboding silence. Then out of the darkness you hear Vash shout menacingly, his voice morphing into an inhuman two-toned scream that you’d never heard before. 
It curdles your blood.
“MAYFLY!”
You bolt, stray tears blinding your vision as you scramble like mad down the dirt dusted path in the opposite direction of town. Your breath rushes in and out of you at record speed as you rush towards the abandoned buildings lining the town’s outskirts. If you could just make it there and hide yourself in the shadows of broken and discarded concrete, you might stand a chance. 
But of course, much like a panicked animal with no sense of direction, your path twists and turns as you mindlessly try to find a good place to hide—only to wind up trapping yourself in a dead end. An empty alleyway illuminated solely by moonlight.
“No, no, no!”
You prepare to turn on your heel to retrace your steps but the moment you spin to face the other direction, your body becomes paralyzed with shock. Vash is standing right behind you . Somehow he had silently kept up with you, hounding your steps like a hungry dog from the depths of hell.
Vash smiles.
“Found you.” 
The unearthly flash of his red eyes shines in the darkness before a rush of wind gusts through the night. It’s then that you notice a single distorted, black feathered wing adorning Vash’s back. It stretches magnificently in the moonlight and you notice a gleaming, razor sharp talon adorning the juncture at the top of those cascading feathers. Your jaw drops. You had never seen Vash with wings before.
Vash takes a single step forward and stops when he sees you tremble. He watches you closely, both of you bodies still. And in that quiet moment, your soul is drawn into those deep crimson pools.
Mayfly…mayfly… lovebug …
Inexplicably, the tension eases from your body, limbs becoming still as if every part of you were surrendering to its fate. A devilishly handsome grin spreads across Vash’s lips as he watches your defiant spark finally simmer into nothing but harmless embers.
“Awww, trapped yourself again, little lovebug?” Vash chuckles darkly, his tone mocking. “Poor, sweet thing. You always seem to wind up in a cage.”
Your jaw clenches. How could Vash say that, when he was the one who drove you here in the first place? When he is the very cage itself?
“Y–you murdered those innocent people.”
Vash exhales a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes as the large black feathers on his wing bristle with irritation.
“Innocent? I’d hardly call them that.” The typhoon's playful expression falls and then darkens, and his voice shifts into a tone of dead seriousness.  
“They laid their hands on you.”
Before you can even blink, Vash is before you—a great shadow that looms and blocks out all light except that of the eerie glow of his gaze. Vash’s hands wrap around your wrists, squeezing the raw skin and making you gasp with pain. 
“They shackled you and locked you up in that cold, dark place. They hurt you, lovebug.”
Your molars sink into the inside of your cheek as you try to combat your cowardice with pain. You glare at the man before you, and spit out your next words like venom.
“Only because you had orchestrated it. You’re the mastermind here, not them.”
The sinister grin that pulls at the corner’s of Vash’s mouth confirms everything you had suspected. He truly is…a monster.
With a swift movement, Vash yanks on your wrists and jerks your body closer to his. You gasp, straining against him in vain. The heat that radiates off of Vash’s body slams into your skin as his single black wing swoops down to envelop you further. He’s warm—so warm—an ambrosia unlike any other.
“Clever girl.” Vash whispers before planting a chaste little kiss on the tip of your nose.
You shudder.
“Are—are you going to hurt me?”
Your question isn’t meant to elicit any sympathy, but Vash’s red eyes soften once he hears them and his grip around your wrists loosen. As if apologizing with his hands, Vash’s fingers circle and soothe your abused flesh.
“Oh lovebug, never. I absolutely adore you. I’d never let any harm come to you.” 
Vash brings your wrists to his lips, pressing hot kisses against your cold skin. The flames in your belly coil, reigniting as they are fueled by the rhythm of your heart. Vash is weaving his spell again, coaxing you back into that syrupy sweet web of deceit and rapture. 
And…you’re falling for it. Falling for him all over again.
“But,” Vash murmurs. His hot tongue slipping out of his mouth to swipe along your bruised skin. 
“You should be punished for trying to run from me.”
Air gusts out of your lungs as Vash pushes your body backwards. He manhandles you with ease before pinning your form against the frigid wall behind you. The claw at the juncture of where his wing bends pierces into the concrete with a terrible scraping sound and pins your wrists to the wall above your head, rendering you completely helpless.
Then, Vash’s nimble fingers undo the button of your slacks.
Jaw dropping, you cry out with rage, cursing Vash and kicking your feet against his legs as you try to fight back. But it’s as if you are battling against a tornado. Nothing you do phases him, and in one single, practiced movement, Vash rids you of your pants, leaving you in nothing but your shirt and underwear.
“Vash!” You screech, nailing him with another swift kick to the shin. “How could y–”
Words are stolen from your lips and your body completely freezes when you suddenly feel the glide of cold metal between your legs. You look down, and your heart nearly stops when you realize Vash has placed the barrel of his gun flush against your panty covered pussy.
The sound of Vash’s dark laughter turns your blood to ice. He leans forwards and presses his burning lips against the corner of your mouth.
“Ever played Russian roulette?” He whispers.
Eyes wide with panic, you turn your head to look at Vash—silently pleading for him to reconsider, to show you mercy and let you go. But Vash’s expression is calm and resolute.
“How about I make you a deal.” He muses. You watch, tense and breathless, as Vash’s thumb caresses the hammer of his .45 long colt. 
“If you can come before I get to the last bullet in the cylinder, we’ll consider your punishment served, alright?”
No. No, no, no, no.
“Vash, please—”
Brushing aside your protest, Vash presses the gun harder against your cunt, grinding the top of the cold barrel between your folds. You gasp sharply, arching against the icy friction as Vash pushes the gun further between your clenched thighs.
The rear sight bumps against your clit and you whimper as a rush of heat gushes between your legs. Vash grins at your reaction, thrusting the gun harder against your tender flesh. 
“That’s it, lovebug” Vash coos. “Feels so good doesn’t it?”
The hammer of the gun clicks, and you have to stifle a pathetic squeal before it can escape. Vash’s smile widens, eyes alight with excitement—then he pulls the trigger.
Blank.
Your body sags.
“One.” Vash purrs.
You squeeze your eyes shut, forcing yourself to focus singularly on your goal. You have to come before Vash gets to that last bullet. You have to.
Hot puffs of air leave you open mouth in desperate whines as you start to piston your hips against the barrel of Vash’s gun, rubbing your swelling clit and folds against the harsh metal at his command.
A pleased hum rumbles in Vash’s chest as the obsidian feathers above you shudder with delight.
“Yes,” Vash breathes, leaning down to sample your flesh. His sharp canines tease along the column of your throat, and the feeling of his hot breath fanning across your skin makes you shiver and mewl. Your pussy twitches, nipples hardening as you start to melt in his hands.
“Good girl.”
The cylinder of the gun turns and you groan, grinding your pussy harder along that metal length. All logical thought disappears as the intoxicating pleasure of Vash’s game overpowers your mind. Like a worm on a hook, Vash has you in his grasp—he always has.
Another click of the trigger, another blank.
“Two.”
Vash’s mouth latches onto your throat now, his tongue and teeth caressing and nipping your skin as his free hand rises up to grope your neglected breast, pinching and teasing at your puckered nipple with greedy fingers.
Lewd moans fall from your lips as jolts of pleasure ricochet through your body. A desperate plea of Vash’s name fills the air as you slick drips from your fluttering cunt, lubing up the gun between your folds.
“Mmmm,” Vash moans, pink tongue languidly licking at his bottom lip. His eyes are glued to the spectacle before him. 
“That’s it, rub that pussy, baby. You’re so fucking sexy.”
Vash’s gun clicks once more. Thankfully, it’s another blank.
“Three.”
Only three more changes remain, and one of them is deadly. Knowing this, your movements become more desperate, grinding yourself against Vash’s gun with fervor as sweat begins to pour down your brow and back. Your body trembles, and you try not to think about how you must look, humping Vash’s gun like a bitch in heat.
Oh god.  
You’re scared but you’re positively throbbing for Vash’s touch. You haven’t been touched once since you’d escaped his clutches, and despite everything that has happened and the new life you had chosen, you are still so foolishly in love with him.
The people of this land may have been the ones you have chosen to side with, but Vash is the only one in your dreams. Vash is the only one who can make you feel like this. He haunts you and corrupts you. Fucks you and devours you.
Vash is the diablo you just can’t shake.
Releasing your throat with a hungry growl, Vash’s mouth travels up to passionately kiss your lips. You moan wantonly, accepting his tongue with unrestrained lust as you attempt to arch your body closer to his. Vash’s tongue swirls in tandem with yours, groaning into your mouth as he readies another shot. You whimper against him, fingernails digging into his feathers.
“Vash…”
Click
Blank.
“Four.” Vash pants, his tongue plunging into your mouth once more, matching in time with the thrusts of his gun. Paradoxically fucking you brutally and sweetly at the same time.
Vash angles his gun upwards, teasing the metal shaft against your entrance. And gods, you know you should be terrified—fighting him tooth and nail for not only your dignity but your life. But as the now warmed and lubed metal of his gun plays with your entrance, all you can do is arch and moan like a whore.
An alluringly dark chuckle rings in your ears as Vash’s grip on your breast tightens. You gasp as he pinches your nipple and rolls it harshly between his fingers.
“Wishing it was my cock, lovebug?”
You shake your head back and forth, and Vash’s grin widens.
“Don’t lie, of course you are. You’ve always been such a dirty little slut for me.”
Vash pinches your nipple harder—a punishment for your little lie—and you cry out as the cylinder makes another round. This time, Vash doesn’t wait, he immediately pulls the trigger, eliciting a yelp of fear from the depths of your lungs. 
Sure enough, it’s another blank.
“Five.” Vash chuckles. He releases your breast, and you watch as his hand travels down to the front of his pants, palming the thick hot bulge that sits just underneath his coat.
“Oh, one more baby. You’ve been sooo lucky so far. Think you’re gonna cum before this gun blows your pussy sky high?” 
Your words tangle in your throat, so you elect to nod rapidly instead. Your teeth sink into your lip as you furiously rub your cunt along the length of the gun, purposefully catching your clit on the metal grooves at the base with each thrust.
Fuck. Fuuuuck.
Almost there. Almost there!
The cylinder turns one final time as Vash’s finger glides sensually along the trigger. He kisses you again, his tongue diving deep into your mouth, drinking in everything you have to give him. Vash swallows your scream, and then pulls the trigger.
Nothing.
Both your hips and the gun still, and Vash laughs gleefully at your confused and near delirious expression. He grins like a cat who had just eaten the canary, and then presses a tender little kiss to your lips.
“Six.”
Vash pulls the gun out from between your legs, the barrel glistening in the moonlight with your slick as he brings it up to your line of sight.
“Hmm, soaked it right through your panties didn’t you? What a little slut.”
Vash's long pink tongue snakes out from between his lips, and you watch—mesmerized and aroused to high heaven— as he licks the barrel of the gun clean. Vash’s eyes never leave you once as he purrs with satisfaction at your taste. 
When he’s finished, Vash holsters his gun then wraps that now free hand around your throat while the other lands heavily on your hip.
Your breath stalls as the fingers on your hip snake around and down into the waistband of your flimsy cotton underwear, body jolting as they slip inside and reach all the way down to your messy pussy. 
“Vash,” You whimper as his leather clad fingers toy with your swollen clit. 
“Vash…”
The wing that holds your hands captive disappears, and you sigh with relief as your arms fall and land on top Vash’s shoulders.
“Hold onto me little lovebug,” Vash coos, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to your forehead.
“Fuck, you are so cute.”
Without reserve, Vash plunges two of his fingers into your sex. Your back arches, and you moan loudly as you wiggle your hips in an attempt to take his thick fingers deeper. You need him. You need him so desperately you feel like you’re gonna break.
Saccharine praise falls in hushed whispers from Vash’s lips as he curls his fingers inside you, hitting your g-spot as he thrusts into your sloppy pussy ruthlessly. The wet squelch of your flesh lovingly sucking his fingers echoes across the empty hallway—indisputable proof oh just how much you want him.
“So wet. Gonna come on my fingers, lovebug? Think I should let you?”
You nod your head frantically, legs straining as you stand on the tips of your toes, thrusting against his hand with a wild cry—your cunt pulses and then practically weeps into his palm.
“YES! YES! Vash—please, please, let me come. Pleeease. ”
Oh, fuuuck. You’re so close. You’re gonna cum, just a little more. 
Vash smiles that dazzling handsome smile of his as his fingers tighten around your throat, cutting off most of your air and making your head spin. Your cunt squeezes around Vash’s fingers as he thrusts them inside, only for him to bully your g-spot until you cry.
“So pretty when you beg, baby.” Vash coos, licking a fallen tear from your cheek. 
“But…”
His fingers slip out of your puffy walls, and you cry out with frustration, fists banging against his shoulders like you’re a toddler throwing a tantrum.
But Vash just laughs at you, and before you can give him a piece of your mind, he slides off your ruined panties and hoists you up into the air. Your back presses against the crumbling wall as your thighs come to rest on Vash’s shoulders.
He’s so strong.
Monster…
Without delay, Vash’s mouth dives between the twitching folds of your sex, and you scream up into the starless sky.
God, Vash always knows just how to pull you apart. He always manages to find that frayed and loose thread of your willpower, wrap it around his lithe fingers, and then pull it oh-so-gently. The reward of watching you as you unravel before him must have been the sweetest euphoria, because he kept doing it. Again and again.
“You taste so good.” Vash growls hotly against your sex. 
“Admit it, no one can treat you as good as I do.”
Vash’s tongue flattens along your pussy, red eyes making contact with yours and holding you there as he slowly and sensually circles his tongue around your clit.
“They don’t know how to worship this pussy properly.”
“Vash,” You beg, throat tightening as you choke on your tears. “Please, let me come. I’m aching.”
Wordlessly, Vash laps your clit into his mouth, giving it one harsh suck before snagging it between his teeth. You cry out, fingers burning into his white locks as he releases you.
“There, there lovebug. Spread your legs wider. You can take my tongue for just a little bit longer, right?”
Begrudgingly, you do as he says, and Vash groans as you spread yourself open just for him. The humanoid typhoon dives in again, lapping hungry stripes along your cunt—spitting on your little hole and then collecting every drop of his saliva and your slick that he can gather before readily swallowing every drop.
“I haven’t tasted you for a whole year.” Vash growls against your folds, the tip of his nose rubbing forcefully against your clit and making you see stars.
“It was torture being without you.”
Vash begins to thrust his tongue into your sex, sloppily eating then sucking your throbbing flesh into his mouth. With his body, Vash passionately coaxes out every hidden little secret you’d buried deep. You scream with rapture in his hands, more tears falling freely down your face as you rapidly unravel in Vash’s hands.
“Vash, don’t stop! Please, please, I’ll do anything! Anything you ask! Please!”
But just as you’re about to reach your climax, your pussy clenching sweetly around Vash’s talented tongue, the heat of Vash’s mouth slips away.
The wail of despair that is ripped from your throat echoes pathetically into the desert air.
Vash chuckles at your anguish, giving your pussy one last cheeky lick before lowering you back to the ground. 
The moment your feet touch the floor, your body sways, unsteady and dizzy from the unfulfilled pleasure that Vash had ransacked through your body.
But Vash holds you steady as he pushes his coat to the side and unbuckles himself. Your half hooded eyes fall to the place where he’s touching but before you can catch a glimpse, Vash positions you facing the wall, ass out and hands up—bracing yourself. 
You shiver at the loss of Vash’s warmth. Your trembling doesn’t escape Vash’s notice, but before he decides to comfort you, Vash gives your cunt a healthy slap.
You shriek, tossing a fiery glare at him over your shoulder. Infuriatingly, Vash gives you a flirtatious wink before pressing his body flush to yours and draping himself over you. His black wing and blue coat envelop you and shield you from the moonlight above.
“Cold?” Vash’s hands wrap around your waist. “You’re trembling.”
You don’t respond, your lips pressing together into a thin line as you push your body backwards, rubbing your pussy against his bulge with a wordless demand. You want Vash’s cock. You want him to soothe your ache, to fill you up and make you forget your own name. 
Vash exhales a pleasured sigh as you rub yourself against him, his hands moving from your waist to circle around your back. He traces your spine with the care a sculptor shows his masterpiece. Vash’s scarlet gaze drinks you in with awe as you arch needily under the pressure of his fingers.
“Don’t worry, lovebug. I’ll keep you warm from now on.”
The sounds of rustling fabric and the satisfying pull of a zipper elicit a flicker of heat in your core. You look back, a moan falling from your lips as you catch a glimpse of Vash’s perfect cock. He’s achingly hard, his beautiful pink head leaking a gorgeous, glistening trail of precum down onto the globe of your ass.
Licking your lips, your gaze captures his. Even in the dim light, you can see that Vash’s cheeks are flushed as he breathes heavily.
Then, without so much as a word, Vash leans back and shoves every single inch of his throbbing cock inside of you with a single thrust.
Your head flies back as you scream his name in ecstasy. Without missing a beat, Vash reaches forward to grab a fistful of your hair, and the two of you moan in unison as Vash begins to rut feverishly into your sex.
“V-Vash! Vash! Vash!”
Your bodies straining and hips trembling, Vash bears down on you like a storm, claiming every inch of your soft flesh with indiscriminate and unrelenting hunger. The slap of his hips forces your body forward, and you brace yourself against the crumbling wall with all your might as the typhoon ravishes you from the inside out.  
It’s not long before your orgasm builds up again. Fuck, you’re so close—twitching and milking Vash with each brutal thrust inside your walls. And Vash knows how turned on you are . He can feel how your slick insides squeeze and massage his cock desperately, the pounding of your heart under his fingertips, the delicious gasps of pleasure he pulls from the depths of your depravity.
And with one more savage thrust you finally come, screaming and quivering as your body succumbs to wave after wave of unimaginable, white hot pleasure.
But Vash doesn’t stop. He fucks you through your orgasm, holding your hips steady as he keeps pounding into you from behind, using you like a fleshlight for his pleasure.
“More.” Vash growls, fangs nipping sharply against the skin on your back. 
“Give me more!”
You gasp for breath, fingernails scratching against the deteriorating concrete as your pussy squeezes down on him, helplessly barreling your entire body into another orgasm even as you finish the last. The cry of pleasure you release is guttural, primal and sinful as your cunt pulses around Vash's cock once more—desperately sucking, wanting to milk him for all he’s worth.
Vash stills for a moment, moaning openly as he savors the sensation and sight of your helpless body at his mercy. Vash’s chest burns with satisfaction as he feels the pleasure rolling off your skin. Pleasure that only he can give you. 
With a jerk of his body, Vash pulls his cock out of you. Then in a swift series of movements he pulls you upright and turns you around to face him. Your legs are practically jelly and utterly pliant to his whims as he hooks his arms under them and hauls you up in his arms. In response, you wrap your arms around Vash's neck and bury your face against his chest.
Vash buries his cock inside you to the hilt again, and your toes curl as you wail from the overstimulation. Surprisingly, Vash’s thrusts start slow, grinding into you languidly as you whine. The humanoid typhoon hushes your mewling sobs while he fucks you, pampering every part of you he can reach with his tender kisses—like the calm before the storm. It’s not long before Vash grows impatient however, and his pace rapidly quickens as he gives in to the raging lust inside him.
You.
His obsession.
His lovebug.
He’ll never let you go again.
“So good f’me.” Vash moans, fingers digging into your ass as he bounces your harder and faster on his cock. The lewd squelches and ring of cream that forms at his base the evidence of your sinful yearning.
“Gonna make you scream and squirt all over my cock, how does that sound?”
Vash’s unrelenting pace doesn’t falter as he chases your shared highs. You are powerless as you’re pulled into the undercurrent of his desire. Vash slams his dick inside you and his thick and demanding cockhead collides with your cervix. 
A surge of both pain and pleasure knocks the air out of your lungs as you’re sent tumbling into yet another powerful orgasm. Vash grins, utterly pleased with himself as he watches you cry and sing your anguished pleasure in his arms. Then, as if all this weren’t enough, a single large black feather slips between the two of your bodies like a snake, and begins to toy with your clit.
You scream.
“Come again.” Vash commands.
“Vash! S-stop!” You cry out, fat tears filling your eyes as drool falls from your lips from the overstimulation. God, he’s ruining you.
“I–I can’t come anymore! I can’t!”
Vash slams you against the wall, stabilizing you against it before one hand reaches down to pinch your clit, while his other hand wraps around your throat and squeezes.
“I’m not asking you. Come on my cock, now .”
Vash thrusts his shaft pitilessly inside you, the head of him ramming fiercely against your g-spot again before plunging all the way inside you. Your body can’t take it, the pressure between your hips releases, and you howl like an animal as your pussy pulses and gushes, squirting all over Vash’s cock as you come. 
An unabashed, obscene moan falls from Vash’s lips when he feels the rush of your pleasure in liquid form.
“That’s it, my perfect little slut. Sooo perfect. Look down and watch your pussy make a creamy little mess for me.”
And Vash still doesn’t stop. He continues to pound into you, fucking your through your orgasm yet again. He’s determined to thoroughly and irrevocably break you. And as you cling to him for dear life, the words that Vash had spoken earlier that night ring loud and clear in your mind.
“Don’t run, lovebug. I’ll make you regret it.”
You should have listened, but it was too late now.
Near delirious and exhausted, you practically fall limp in Vash’s arms, but Vash doesn’t let you tap out. Not yet. He pulls your head back, forcing you to look him straight in the eye, then he whispers,
“You are mine, do you understand? Your thoughts are mine. Your body is mine. Your pussy is mine…”
Vash slams back inside you with a force that nearly has you passing out. Then, he seals his lips with yours, tongue swirling and consuming everything he can reach.
When Vash releases you, you gasp for breath as his pace resumes.
“Your heart is mine.”
You swallow, your mind nothing but pleasured static and love drunk fog as you stare at him. That devilish smile returns to Vash’s face. He truly is incomplete without it.
“Admit it, lovebug.”
Your body trembles and in a desperate attempt to relieve yourself of this torture, the words escape you in a rush.
“Yes. I love you, Vash.”
Vash’s entire body shudders as he purrs at your confession. His dark wing drapes over the both of you as he claims your lips with yet another passionate kiss.
“Atta' girl.”
Surprisingly, Vash’s pace slows to a gentle grind. Slowly and languidly he rubs himself inside of you, as if he’s savouring you like a worshipper at a temple. The final orgasm that you share isn’t explosive like the ones you’ve had before.
It’s tender and sweet, washing over the both of you in gentle waves. Vash releases the softest and most beautiful moan as he comes, kissing you breathless as he fills you up with wave after wave of his hot cum.
For a brief moment, you wonder if this is the first time Vash had found release after you left. Had you been the only one to…
As your climaxes subside, harsh pants fill the air. Both you and Vash melt into each other’s arms, utterly destroyed and exhausted. Your sex throbs with a terrible ache, and to help relieve some of your tension you wiggle your hips, sliding Vash’s cock out half way in an attempt to get a breather.
But Vash growls, and shoves his cock all the way back inside you, grinding up against your cervix and making you whimper.
“Keep it all inside you, lovebug.” Vash murmurs softly. 
The humanoid typhoon claims your mouth with one more toe-curling kiss, and the two of you moan, slowly indulging in one another’s taste. Sucking and licking, until finally you have to pull away for air.
Vash pouts, but then he pulls back, electing to admire your love drunk expression instead.
“Didn’t you know?” Vash whispers, leaning back in to rub the tip of his nose against yours. 
“Lovebugs stay connected to their mates for life.”
You pause and digest those words. While they may seem romantic on the surface, deep down you see the foreboding promise they hold. Pulling away from Vash’s pampering, you respond.
“Lovebugs don’t live long. They die right after they mate.”
It’s Vash’s turn to pause, his expression quizzical as he looks into your eyes. But after a few beats, a sickeningly sweet smile spreads across his lips. It’s the kind of smile only a god of death could have.
“You’ll be the exception.”
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juiles · 10 months
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Why me?
Summary: y/n is Wanda and Natasha’s partner. After a misunderstanding and 3 months of pain, they finally break through.
Tags: angst and then fluff
Warnings: self harm, pain, fighting, kinda angsty Nat, insecure reader, intrusive thoughts, yelling.
A/N: here’s an angsty wandanat x reader fic that i’ve wanted to read for a while but can’t seem to find any with this plot so if you know of one let me know.
Masterlist here!
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Y/N pov
When i walked into the kitchen, I wasn’t expecting to see Natasha and Wanda wrapped up in each others arms, even though i should have, but i definitely was not expecting to hear Wanda utter the words that shattered my heart.
“You, and you alone, are my entire world and I couldn’t ask for a better girlfriend…” She had muttered into Natasha’s neck, neither of them noticing me in the room giving me the chance to walk out in silence.
I should have expected that, the last few months they have slowly started separating themselves from me. Busying themselves in their work so much I never saw them anymore, anytime they weren’t busy, they seemed to find a way to ignore me and when they were around me they weren’t necessarily nice.
This interaction had given me that last needed push to finally give up. I pulled all my clothes into a bag and went back into my old room down the hall, haphazardly throwing the bag in the corner of my room. I felt a sob build up in my throat and with a quick lock of my door and telling Friday to sound proof my room and not let anyone in, i collapsed into a ball in my room and allowed myself to sob for 30 minutes before picking myself up and dusting myself off.
I decided then and there that I would push myself into my work. I wouldn’t let them ruin my life, at least not my life with the avengers.
It had been 3 months since that day, of course Natasha and Wanda hadn’t even noticed i had left or started avoiding them. None of the teams seemed to have noticed anything different about me which just pulled me further into my shell. I had a very simple routine, wake up at 4, train for 2 hours making sure to be in a private room. Grab something for breakfast if i was feeling it, which lately I hadn’t been. Be in the labs by 6:30 to start work. Skip lunch, working the whole day with my headphones on. I managed to avoid ground dinners a lot but sometimes i got sucked in, not like anyone even noticed if I was there or not.
Wanda’s POV
I guess Natasha and I hadn’t noticed how we had been distancing ourselves from y/n but in the last month or so I noticed how different things had been. Maybe we had been too caught up in our work or our lives but somehow y/n had managed to distance themselves from us even more. They had moved out from our shared room and we almost never saw them during the day.
“She’s probably just being petty that we have lives other than her.” Natasha said as we discussed what was going on. “They’re not being adult about this. They should have spoken to us rather than just leave.”
“I don’t think we ever gave them the chance Nat… we’ve been really distant… the day we we’re practicing what to say to them when we proposed… i think they heard us… i don’t think they realized it was about them… and up until then we had been finding ways to avoid them to not make the engagement noticeable.” I said, tears threatening to fall from my eyes. “We really messed up…”
We both looked up when we heard the kitchen door open and to both our surprise we saw y/n standing in the doorway. They had an unreadable look on their face before they quickly turned on their heel and stormed out of the room, towards their own room. My eyes widened and very quickly my body was racing after their own without a thought in my head.
Before I even got the door, it slammed in my face making me screech to a stop staring at the dark brown wood in front of me, tears now falling from my eyes. “Y/n… please open the door.” I all but whimpered before leaning back into Natasha’s arms who had followed behind me. “Please… we just want to talk…”
I heard a smash and a scream so loud it almost hurt my ears more than my heart. Another smash happened before Natasha made the decision to kick the door down revealing y/n in a very panicked state throwing items around their room. Glass and paper already scattered around the floor.
“FUCK OFF.” They screamed throwing a vase at my head, i barely dodged it, a small piece that shattered on the wall behind me, lodged into my arm making me gasp in pain. The gasp must have shaken them out of their frenzy as they stopped and slowly turned to face me, eyes drawn to the small amount of blood trickling down my arm. “Wanda… oh god… oh my god i am so sorry! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” Their head snapped up to look at me before they backed away, arms being held up defensively. “I’m sorry… please don’t hate me… please…” They pleaded staring at my eyes, a look of pure fear in their eyes.
“Detka… I would never-“
“DON’T. DON’T SAY THAT. ITS A LIE! YOU DID!” They screamed at me before going back to the fear and they cowered again when Natasha took a slow step forward, tears falling down her face.
“We never meant to hurt you… we swear… we love you more than anything… please… let us help you…” She finally made it to y/n’s trembling body and managed to pull them into her arms. “We want to help you…”
I kneeled in front of y/n’s sobbing form and held their hands as they sobbed and screamed into Natasha’s chest.
After what felt like hours, their sobs and screams disappeared into soft sniffles, their face still buried deep into her neck. That’s when I finally took a good look at them. They were shaking, their body looking very frail and skinny, as they pulled their face out of Nats neck, and I noticed the dark circles under the eyes, how pale they were, how lost their eyes are. “Oh detka…” I murmured cupping their face. All they did was stare at me. “I am SO sorry that we ever made you feel like we don’t love you… we love you so much it hurts. It hurts to know that we hurt you. It breaks our hearts because not once did we even step back to notice we were hurting you, that we were so engrossed in our plans that we failed to notice what we were doing to you.”
Their face contorted u to pain when i softly grabbed their wrist making me pull back their sleeve before they got the chance, my heart falling even further into my stomach. There on their wrist were bloody cuts scattered around. “Please let me clean these… baby they look infected. Even if you don’t want us around, i want to make sure you stay safe.” They glanced down at their own wrist before looking at Natasha before looking back at me and they nodded. I shot up and ran into the bathroom before coming back with the first aid kit.
“It will sting but you grip my arm as tightly as humanly possible, it will help.” Natasha murmured into their ear, they nodded staring down at their arm, their good hand gripping onto Nats. I started cleaning the wounds, y/n barely made a sound but I could see the pain in their eyes so i did it as fast as possible, wrapping them up before showering the bandages with kisses. “All better…”
“You… my… I’m sorry…” They muttered squeezing their eyes shut.
“No. No you don’t need to apologize. We do. For the rest of our lives we will be apologizing for ever causing you pain. You are our world y/n. The three of us against the world.” Natasha stopped them quickly holding them tighter. “Detka… you’re too skinny… have… have you not been eating?”
They tended up before I stroked their cheeks gently. “We’re not mad baby… but we need to know… we need to make sure your taken care of so let’s get some food in you baby…” They bit their lip and started shaking their head before Nat cleared her throat and they took a deep sigh before nodding gently.
Nat scooped them up into her arms bridal style and carried them down to the kitchen before placing them on her lap as she sat on a stool. “What do you want to eat detka…?”
It was silent for a moment before a small whisper was heard. “Wanda’s alfredo…?” Was hushed but my I couldn’t fight the smile growing in my face. “Of course baby.”
I instantly started flitting around the kitchen doing what was needed. It was silent for at least 10 minutes before they spoke again.
“I never wanted to upset you guys… before you stop me let me speak. I’m just so used to being used, hurt then dropped as if I’m garbage…” They’re eyes welled up slowly. “I just… i just needed to pull myself away before you could hurt me and I ended up hurting all of us… I’m sorry i didn’t talk to you guys before and assumed the worst…” My heart shattered even more. “I love you guys so much it made me want to go numb so I couldn’t get hurt again…”
“We love you baby… we love you so much and these last 3 months have been torture but it was our own fault.” Natasha said running her calloused hands through y/n’s hair. “We will spend the rest of our lives making it up to you. Now eat so we can go snuggle in bed to sleep my love.”
Y/n stared at the bowl, their bottom lip wobbling. “I’m scared…” They whispered.
“Baby… me and you and Wanda are going to do this together. Understand?” They nodded with a small sniffle. “Now open up so you can eat.” They opened their mouth and slowly we made our way through the bowl.
After they ate, we made our way back upstairs to our bedroom and settled them in between us, pulling their bony body into ours. “Why me?”
“Because you are our world detka and no matter what we say or do nothing will ever be able to make up for what we did to you.”
Y/n sniffled before snuggling back down into us with a small content smile on their faces they fell asleep.
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lady-ashfade · 9 months
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Blessed from above
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Young!Aemond targaryen x Young!Fem!Reader Drabble.
I just wanted something cute. I might do a part two of when they are older and meet again before getting married.
Warnings: Forced marriage, young love, short and fast paced , Maybe a hind of bit Yandere Alicent and Aemond.
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Gossip and whispers of the beast you had yet to met clouded your brain before you knew the truth, many people telling what they believed or heard from someone else. Young ears picked up the tone they spoke with fear and disgust laced in their judgmental voices. You hated gossip, it filled you with rage when the older woman spoke like they were better then people just because of their wealth.
Being a young status lady, you were surrounded by the ladies telling you what they thought was best, how to act and look. You, a noble lady waiting for a marriage proposal from a man from any age. Thankfully, your father was on your side no matter how many times your mother wanted you to be married off. But this time, even he couldn’t save you. It had been a few months since you had first bled and the news traveled quickly to everyone across Westeros.
Tears flooded down your cheeks as you first heard you had been betrothed to someone you had never met. Your mother’s voice fell death to your ears from that point and didn’t listen to anything she said. The thoughts of a old, mean man wanted you to bare his children filled you with rage and worry. It wasn’t like you didn’t want to be a wife because you did, you learned ans worked your whole life to be the best wife you could be. But you wanted true love and someone caring and sweet to fill your days.
“Get ahold of yourself.” Hands gripping your shoulders and shaking you slightly, your mother bend down to your level. “The prince will be your husband. This is the highest honor you will ever get and you can not refuse, so get ahold of your sense. If you mess this up, I will disown you and you’ll be glad you had the chance to become a princess.” Had you heard that right? The prince is your betrothed? The beast you had heard of, a year ago the boy had turned from the laughing stock of the kingdom to someone only spoken about in whispers and behind closed doors. But did you actually believe anything you had heard?
It didn’t matter as you sat in the queen’s chambers with her eyes glued to you. “Hello dear.” she spoke and made her way over to you with a kind smile. You bowed and bend your knee to show respect and she chuckled softly and immediately thought you had embarrassed yourself. “I have heard the tales of your families beauty since I was a little girl,” her hand reached up to your chin and moved it up. Your eyes meeting her soft ones, “I underestimated them until now.” You couldn’t believe a complement like that from the queen. “Thank you, my queen.” You smiled politely and tried to keep your voice straight. “I know this must be scary for you, but there is no need to be. I will be here each step of the way.” But no matter how she sounded, if they were true or false..
You were still terrified about meeting the price.
Again the fear took ahold of your stomach as you twirled your fingers together in waiting, the garden was peaceful though. You saw the queen and your mother sit above the garden and stare, talking amongst themselves, you knew your mother was kissing up to the queen. But the only real comfort you had was your lady in waiting five feet away from you. The dress you wear was a lovely shade of green that the queen had made just for you.
The white haired figure made your mind go blank as you stood up quickly and not fully get a look at the young boy. Throat going dry and knees almost going numb at the nerve. The shadow creeped closer until it was at your feet and you felt your heart drop. Clearing your throat you began to speak what you had rehearsed so many times in your head. “Hello, my prince.” You couldn’t look up. The boy took notice of your body language and how you avoided eye contact with him. You were scared. Of course you were, everyone was.
“You can look at me, or are you afraid I’d hurt you.” Eyes going wide you stood up straight and look at him. Your mouth ready to defend yourself but chocking at the boy you saw. His handsome face with unbelievable soft looking skin, the eyepatch on his face making your stomach twist. Not in fear but in pity he has been stripped of his eye, undoubtedly once beautiful as the other. He was glaring at you, his face held nothing sweet but his young features.
“Forgive me, I had no intention of offending you.” The tiny smile and sweet voice that sounding like heaven to his ears. You looked like a goddess when he first saw you arrive at the castle, so far away but he couldn’t wait to get closer. He knew you’d be afraid of him like the rest, so afraid to look him in the face. He needed to get ahead before you broke his heart. “You could do no such thing.” He huffed, his voice cold and held no emotion. Maybe he was stone hearted? But why didn’t that feel like the case for you?
You just smiled and giggled for him to hear and fiend to hear it again, to have it marked into his scull. “Shall we go for a walk?” You offer him your arm with a face that lit up like the sun. All he could do was freeze and blink at the kindness you showed him. He didn’t since any fear of himself but just about meeting someone new.
Blessings from above was what you were.
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cupcakeinat0r · 3 months
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Broadway Baby ch. 1
Pairing: Miguel O’hara x Fem!reader
Summary: Reader is a broadway performer in Nueva York. You’re a rising star. One morning, during a rehearsal, you stumble upon an unexpected, yet highly welcomed visitor.
Warnings: SFW? This is a plot building chapter, srry <3 Insinuations of masturbation toward end tho!!!
Tags: Sugar Daddy AU, Miguel is a filthy rich single dilf (girl dinner), Age Gap fo sho (20 + 32), reader is a Latina (written by a Latina), Gabriella is his daughter in this one, soft n happy Miguel bc ion do that trauma mess. He only knows happiness and peace in my mind palace<3
Word count: 4.4k
Ch. 2
Nueva York.
The city that never sleeps.
You moved here when you were just 18, with a suitcase and big dreams.
It would’ve been when you were 14, your parents had taken you to the big city to watch a musical on Broadway. It was that faithful night you realized your calling. That moment changed the entire trajectory of your life.
You fell in love with it. The music, the lights, the sets, the performance of it all. It was pure magic. You were entranced from the first note of the overture to the very last bow of the lead player.
There was just one problem: you had the confidence of a chicken nugget.
Since the womb, you’d been a very quiet child, extremely soft spoken when acknowledged, so when you told your parents your dream occupation, they were a bit skeptical. Nonetheless, they were both extremely supportive, especially after that one night when your mom overheard some singing in your shower.
She had been in your room, collecting dirty laundry when she heard a beautiful melody coming from your bathroom. Curious as to what song it was, she pressed the shell of her ear against the door. Still not able to hear the lyrics exactly, she cracked open the door, looking around for a speaker, only to find none. It clicked. It wasn’t some blue-tooth equipped music, but her daughter’s voice. Your voice. You’d been singing the songs from the show they took you to. Her jaw fell open. Never had she heard you produce such beautiful sounds. She made sure not to make her presence known since she knew if she did, you’d surely stop vocalizing out of embarrassment.
You were signed up for voice lessons immediately.
Ever since then, you’d been training, dance and acting classes following shortly after that. It became clear that your talent was a blessing from above after hearing teacher after teacher praising about your prodigious abilities.
4 hard working years later, you decided to spread your wings, kiss mom and dad goodbye, and start your career. A small apartment in Nueva York became home. It was lacking a good AC system and the floors were creaky, but it was an affordable start.
It’s been another 2 years since moving to Nueva York. Each phone call home, your parents are delighted to hear about your accomplishments, happy to hear that you’re in a steady place on your path to stardom. You’ve been in a few shows now, landing supporting roles, featured dancing gigs, and so on… but you’ve yet to land that big lead. Your big break. It’ll come though. Patience.
Raw talent could only get you so far in this business. The only thing that seems to matter nowadays is connections and nepotism. You had to stop cowering in your shell and start networking yourself somehow. It was difficult, being the introvert that you were. If only the persona you embodied on the stage carried over into your every day life. When you’re on stage, you’re a complete different person; almost a character. That’s why you loved doing what you did so much. You felt comfortable on that stage, free to be whoever you wanted to be. It was your sanctuary.
Life in the arts was never safe or secure, and you knew that when you decided to sell your soul to this industry. Despite the endless auditions (rejections) and multiple part-time jobs, you loved your life. You loved being an actress in Nueva York. It gave main-character vibes. You had a part-time job as a waitress downtown during the day, and at night, you’d switch out your apron for a costume that didn’t leave much for imagination. You were currently a featured dancer and supporting character in the city’s most popular musical. You’d remind yourself that many aspiring actors would commit heinous crimes to be in a similar place in their careers as yours. It wasn’t no starring role, but hey, it was something.
Life was good. You were happy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was just another day, alike all the others on the 2nd year of your 3-year contract in the Musical you were in. It was simple really:
You wake up, do your day time skin care routine, warm-up your voice, brush teeth, put your apron on for the Stardust diner, wait a few tables from 9-5, your house call was at 5:30 so you’d take the train and show up at 5:25, stretched, warmed-up your voice some more, and be ready in the wings by curtain call.
This was the part you looked forward to every day. That minute you stand behind those velvety curtains, heels and exaggerated lashes and all. The sticky residue of the tape that keeps your mic attached to your neck. The sparkles on your body that never seems to come off, even though you shower after every show. The astronomical amount of hairspray that you’d have to brush through when you got home. You loved it all.
When those curtains opened, a new person was born. Ingrained into the crevices of your brain, the muscle memory within your body would perform the dance moves you’ve been repeating for 7 nights in a row for 2 years.
And you’d deliver the same lines you always delivered ( and ate all of them like you always did), and your voice, like an angel. You sang your heart out, the applause fueling your energy and nourishing your soul (and maybe even your ego).
The beauty of live theater is that every show is different. One of the many aspects you loved about it included the audience members; each night, the crowd was different. Today, in particular, there was a young girl in the front row, sitting right in front of where you were dancing. She looked up at you in the same way you looked at those actors all those years ago, with that same awe in her eyes. Noticing her, you flashed her a wink and a smile while performing. You even managed a small wave, which granted an excited expression from her. The little girl, practically bouncing in her seat, then looked up to the large, dark figure sitting next to her, enthusiastically pulling on the black jacket of what seems to be her guardian. “The pretty lady waved at me!” is what her lips read.
This was a normal occurrence for you. You made it a priority to at least engage with some of the youth in the audience if you happened to pass by any. It was for them you performed, after all. It was always so endearing seeing their cute little reactions to the show.
This time was a little more special, though. She reminded you of yourself when you were that age. Down to the tan skin, brown eyes, and dark hair, pulled into a tight ponytail.
You felt this connection to her. It was inexplainable. In one of the dance numbers, you sort of gravitated around that relative area in front of her, interacting with her. You made that girl so happy. This was a night she’d never forget.
With the show coming to a close, you take your final bow for what seems like the millionth time, but it never ceases to feel like the first.
Curtains close, the cast comes together, and you all rejoice in another victorious performance.
You all retreat back to your dressing rooms, hastily wiping off make up, the stripping of fishnets and jazz shoes taking up majority of the already small dressing room.
It wasn’t abnormal for people to come up to you after the show and congratulate you on such a successful portrayal. Sometimes, though, it could be a lot. Sometimes, you just wanted to go home and body slam your twin bed. Not tonight, though. Standing yay high in a line of audience members awaiting autographs was the little girl. When both of your eyes met, your face instantly brightened, hers twice as much. She jumped up and down, again tugging at the towering figure’s jacket, exclaiming, “Look, papa! It’s her! It’s her!”, and you followed the direction of the adorable juvenile voice with a wide smile.
You walked up to her and knelt down to her level, speaking with a voice that could be compared to that of a Disney princess. As you approach the precious young girl, your maternal instincts slowly kick in. You couldn’t help it; you loved engaging with the kids.
“Oh, I remember you! You’re the pretty girl sitting in the front row! Did you enjoy the show?” You ask with a friendly smile. The girl looks at you all starstruck, her cute smile reaching from ear to ear as you tell her you remember her. “H-hi! I loved it! You were really good!” She professes, her dimples adorning her face. “Can I have an autograph?” She asked shyly, presenting the playbill that the ushers hand out to the audience and a pen. Just when you’re about to happily oblige, you see a hand reach down to her shoulder, followed by a low, soft voice,
“That’s not how we ask, mi Vida.”
Your eyes begin a path from the strong hand that rests on the little girl’s shoulder, up a Herculean arm clothed in what looks like black cashmere (it was cold out), next were his broad shoulders, preceding a sharp jaw and the most plump, dark pair of lips you’d ever lay eyes on, across a tanned, sculpted face, until you got to those deep brown, almost crimson eyes. You stared for a little too long, only managing a smile and a soft chuckle, a combo that you’ve practiced in the mirror countless of times in case an agent wanted to make their presence known.
The man looked like a model. Couldn’t have been over his early 30’s, easily standing over 6 feet tall, and from the looks of it, took very good care of his body. He was covered in a black trench coat, more black, yet much more fitted clothing worn under, but you could tell he was hiding massive muscles under it all. You just knew it. The man was freakishly huge, towering over the both of you, making you feel small especially since you were on your knees. His luscious dark hair was slicked back, a hint of greying on the sides, and one strand detached from the rest, falling down his forehead.
“Oh, sorry, papa. May I have an autograph, please?” She corrected herself, holding out the playbill and marker further out. You looked back down at her again, regaining your composure. Taking that she just called him ‘papa’, you assumed he must’ve had a mrs waiting back home, so you clocked this as an admire-from-afar situation. You tried to steal a glance at his hands to see if maybe there was a ring, but he was wearing gloves. Womp Womp. Oh well, whatever, back to the adorable girl in front me, you think.
“Of course you can, beautiful!” You exclaim, accepting the playbill and pen from her. You speak as you write your signature and a short note, “so what’s your name, mama?” (‘Mama’ can be a way of referring to someone younger than you). She looks at you with amazement as you’re focused on writing on the cast list page of the playbill, “My name is Gabriella”, she responds, to which you say, “What a gorgeous name! My name is y/n. How old are you Gabriella?” She seems to be so shocked that you, the coolest person she’s ever seen, wanted to have a conversation with her. “I’m six! I’ll be seven in seven days!” She says proudly. “Oh, such a big girl you are! Happy early birthday! What‘s your favorite thing to do, Gabriella?” You ask her as you finish the note, closing it and letting it sit in your hand as you focus on her now.
She visibly thinks hard, pursing her lips as she comes up with an answer. “Hmm… I really like to draw. I also like to play outside when I leave school and-and…” she twiddles her fingers as she adds,” -and I love to dance! Me and my papa dance at home a lot! You’re a way better dancer than him!” She giggles, looking up at him with a playful grin. He looks down at her with a loving smile, letting a velvety chuckle slip from his lips, allowing a perfect view of his dreamy smile. You could tell the two shared a beautiful relationship. He looked at her like she was his whole world, his hand caressing the top of her head affectionately. This little girl had this big strong man wrapped around her tiny finger, and you softened at the sight. He was probably an amazing dad… Jesus, who ever is sitting at home waiting for him really has scored the jackpot. Lucky.
“Aw, that sounds like fun! And as for your father, it just takes lots of practice, that’s all, mamita. As a matter of fact, I practiced for six years!” I say, holding out six fingers as I say it. She gasps at this fact about your training, her eyes wide. “Six years?! That’s like, forever!” She says. “Do I have to practice for six years to be good like you?” She inquires, her brows raised, waiting for your educated and professional answer. You carefully think of an answer, knowing anything you say could forever stay with this sweet girl. Words that you feel you would’ve appreciated at her age came to your mind, “Well, Gabriella, that’s hard to say. Time is different for everyone. The best thing to do when you want to follow your dreams is to simply be the best version of yourself. No need to copy anyone else. If you do that, you can absolutely do anything your lil heart desires, okay?” You finish, nodding your head, awaiting her confirmation.
You don’t notice, but her dad is watching the two of you interact, and he simply smiles at the exchange. He could tell you had a way with kids. He studied the way you spoke, the way you smiled at her, both being so genuine. He was entranced by you. He loved how engaging you were. You were truly creating a magical core memory for his daughter, and he was beyond appreciative of that.
Her mother had passed away of cancer when she was only 2, so she never truly got to meet her, or had a maternal figure in her life for that matter, so seeing her interact with this kindhearted actress was nice. Seeing the two of you interact reminded him of how important it was for Gabriella to have a female figure in her life. There was no doubt that you were a drop dead gorgeous woman as well, and by the accent he picked up on, it was evident that you were of Latin descent. You had that natural motherly charm to your essence. He was captivated by your presence on the stage already, but now that he was up close with you, he was beginning to feel like a high school boy with a crush. Stunning? Talented? A Latina? AND Gabriella was crazy about her? It had him thinking for sure.
Gabriella absorbs your words like a sponge, clinging on to every syllable. She smiles at you, breaking out in a fit of precious giggles. “Okay!” And with that, you give her playbill back, as well as her pen.
“Take a picture with her, sweetie.” You hear the mysterious, definitely-not-on-the-market dilf say. Gabriella nods eagerly with a, “ohmigosh, yes!”, and you reply with a warm, “definitely! How would you like to pose? Is this okay for you, mama?” You ask her, your hands hovering over her shoulders as she stands in front of you. You didn’t want to touch her unless she gave you an ‘ok’. Once she nods, you gently place your hands on her shoulders, still kneeling on one knee as you smile for the phone her dad was holding. You lower your face down to be next to hers. In the couple of seconds you sat there frozen for the picture, you could’ve sworn her dad had looked you up and down, his eyes stuck on your butt, but you decide to dismiss it. He might’ve just been making sure you were in the frame, is all.
Let’s be real for a second, the photo wasn’t for the record of Gabriella’s memories more than it was for her father’s own indulgence. He was totally thinking about looking back at this picture later and gush about your looks.
Gabriella turns around and asks one more question. “C-can we hug?” She asks timidly. You visibly melt at the request, “Aw, yes, of course we can, mamita!”, she quickly wraps her tiny little arms around you, and yours around her, “Thank you so much for coming to the show! I’m so happy you enjoyed it!” You say, her face still nuzzled into the softness of your sweater as you caress her tiny ponytail. When she pulls away, she only smiles, looking up at you like you were a fairy princess out of a storybook and a unicorn was gonna pull up and carry you away.
“What do we say, mija?” The beautiful man said.
“Thank you, y/n!” She sweetly adds.
You stand now, smiling down at her with your hand gently lifting her chin,“Remember, mama, you can do anything. Don’t let anyone tell you different, okay?” The cutie patootie nods, her smile still plastered on her face and her now signed playbill held tightly to her chest. “Okay. Have a goodnight, Gabriella,” you stand up straight now, your face only reaching up to the chest of her dad, giving him a warm smile as you try to maintain casual eye contact with the Greek god in front of you. Even now that you’re standing, he still towers over you. Lord have mercy, this man was makin you nervous in all the good ways. Thank God you knew how to act. “Thank you so much for coming to the show!“
The man looked down at you and flashed you a dashing smile in return, his gaze narrow yet soft. He then had the audacity to throw in a wink, opening his mouth to say, “No, no, thank you for a wonderful performance. You were absolutely breathtaking.” His gaze was borderline flirtatious, a blush creeping up on your cheeks, but you had to stay professional. Besides, he was totally married already. This was a simple, friendly compliment, one of hundreds you heard each night.
You look down at the floor for a second, in efforts to cover any blushing, a humble wave of your hand leading your reply, “Aw, I really appreciate that. You’re too kind, Thank you! You two get home safe now, I’d hate for either of you to get a cold!” You say, closing the conversation. You wave at the both of them, Gabriella waving the hardest of the three. Her father, on the other hand, seemed like he was distracted by you, not realizing his daughter was yanking on his coat to leave. The dad quickly snaps back to reality and says goodnight to you, and they make their way into the bustling street.
As you’re about to tend to other autographs, you can’t help but overhear Gabriella talk to her father as they leave. You could’ve sworn Gabriella’s words were, “Papa, were you making googly eyes at y/n?” To which her father replied with a chuckle and, “What? That’s silly, mi vida, now look where you’re going and hold onto my hand, por favor”, he said, brushing off her question. “She’s very pretty.” “Yes, she is, isn’t she?” He admits. That was the last of the conversation you heard. You found yourself smiling, internally celebrating because this fine ass man finds you pretty. Too bad he’s taken…right?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After signing a few playbills and posters and bidding a farewell to some other audience members, you made your way back to the little studio apartment you called home, instantly beginning to knock out the second your head hit the pillow.
Before falling asleep, thoughts of the mystery man filled your mind, recollecting that chiseled jaw, those soft lips, muscles begging to break free from his button down dress shirt. His deep silky voice rang in your head, doing the opposite of lulling you to sleep. Your mind starting settling in the gutter, imagining that deep voice saying sweet yet disgusting things in your ear and those large, calloused hands removing your underwear instead of your own dainty hands. You can imagine his huge body just completely enveloping yours on the bed, him on top, and those soft lips planting wet, lazy kisses along your neck and other much more sensitive places. It was creating a heat within your core, your thighs shamefully pressing against each other to help relieve a growing tension that crept up from a single thought of his intense gaze; those eyes that could make your inexperienced self burst within seconds. You liked to think he’d talk you through it, only igniting the fire in between your legs even more.
Am I seriously fantasizing about a man I exchanged like 3 words with right now? You say to yourself. I don’t even know his name.
He was just so goddamn FIONE.
You’ve had your fair share of attractive men in the city. It’s Nueva York. And you worked in the performance industry. You were bound to see a 10/10 or two. But this guy… This man would’ve made you drool had you not had an adorable munchkin there to distract you. This man was a 10000/10. He had you contemplating whether or not you were gonna slip a hand into your panties tonight he was that good looking.
You were a virgin. You had spent half your life devoting it to the arts and your craft, so much so that you never got to the whole dating thing. You almost completely forgot about that part of the thing called ‘social life’. All you knew was practice, eat, workout, repeat. The opportunity definitely has presented itself, but you’ve declined because:
A) You weren’t ready to share yourself with someone. You wanted to focus on your career. Or
B) The man wasn’t up to your standards. You couldn’t be with someone unless you saw a future with them. You never really understood hook up culture. You could care less if other people preferred it, it just wasn’t your style.
So here you were, in bed, a hesitant hand slowly making its way to the now wet spot of your panties. You can’t remember the last time you let loose like this…
Yea, you gave in.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next morning, you didn’t have your 9-5, however, you were called to perform both the matinee and late night show. You showed up early to the house, stretching and warming up along with the rest of the cast.
Already in your own head space as you meditate in a child’s pose, you start picking up some whispering amongst your costars. You lift your head, opening your eyes to eavesdrop.
“Did you hear about the donation this morning? A whopping $10k. I wonder who was it!” One of them says. Another one notices your attention and includes you in the conversation.
“Y/n, do you know about it?” but you only shrug, this being the first you’ve heard about it.
Another one chimes in, “heard it’s a hella loaded guy from Alchemax… he’s like a CEO or something-“ “Alchemax? As in the Laboratory? What’s a science nerd want with a theater troupe?” “Well doesn’t matter, what matters is we can finally update our sets and costumes, hallelujah.”
Your eyes dart from one cast mate to another as more information and whispers flood the stage.
Another one, who’s currently in a middle split, interjects, “Y’all do realize this means he gets a part of the house, right? He’s basically a producer at this point.”
“I thought it was just a donation-“ “the directors thought so, too, but then I overheard them discussing business plans. He wants in for sure, why? Have no idea. Total eye candy, though.” “Well, it might be good for us to have a businessman on our side-“
“Good morning, everyone!” Everyone looks over to your bright eyed and bushy tailed director. How can someone be this energetic at this waking hour?
“I don’t mean to interrupt your mingling, but I do bring some stellar news. I want to introduce ya’ll to our new patron of the house!” They say, and next to them appears a familiar tall, dark, and handsome figure adorned in a white dress shirt rolled up to his elbows and jeans; A man that you remember inappropriately touching yourself to the night before. You inwardly thanked him for blessing you with a better view of the outline of his body: those broad shoulders sloping into the sluttiest waist ever to be found on a man. You had to physically hold back moan from the sight.
“Everyone, I’d like you to meet Miguel O’Hara.”
You’re gagged. The gorgeous man that thought you were pretty last night was the CEO of Alchemax, and he just became a partner of your theatre. The sudden realization that he’ll be around regularly tied knots in your stomach, but the good kind.
“Now I want you all to make him feel welcomed. He basically just opened his wallet wide open for us, so this show better be flawless.“ your director reprimands, as if y’all aren’t the city’s finest performers already. People around the world came to see you guys.
“Oh, don’t be so harsh on them, the main reason why I donated in the first place was because of the raw talent you have here,” his eyes fell on you when he says this. His voice pierced through the air like a hot knife on butter, his slight accent adding a bit of heat that sent everyone’s heart fluttering. You fought back a blush once again, looking down at the floor due to his powerful gaze. He smiles at your reaction, “It’ll be a pleasure working with all of you. Now, I know it might be strange, seeing that a scientist has just partnered with your house, but please, don’t let my line of work mislead you; I’m a lover of the arts and… all things beautiful.” His eyes once again fall on you for those last few words with that same narrow yet easy gaze. His smirk alone could make you swoon. He had creases that accentuated his brow lines and cheekbones that only added that much more suave to his look. Could be from the surely scowl he constantly held at his work. To the majority, this would just been seen as a sign of aging, but to you, it was hot.
“I look forward to our partnership. Break legs.” And with this he turns and walks away, stealing one last look at you before he’s out of sight. I’d rather you break my back. Your eyes shamelessly follow him, admiring that tight ass in those jeans of his. Dios mio, you think, biting your lip.
You know, for a virgin, you had the mind of a whore.
You couldn’t believe it. Your cast mate next to you could, though, as they shot you a knowing look, to which you nudged them embarrassingly.
“Seems like our hot new patron likes you, y/n.”
“Stop it!” You rebut along with a roll of your eyes, your friend stifling a laugh. You were in denial. You’d be lying if you said you disagreed. The man was definitely eyeing you, and now you were a flustered mess. However, now that he wasn’t wearing gloves, you can confidently say you don’t remember seeing a ring…
bingo.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hope u wike it <3
Enjoy this appetizer, more to cum<3
Mwah<3
256 notes · View notes
freefalls06-blog · 6 months
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RADIO SILENCE
Blurb: For 5 weeks now Lucy has been radio silent to YN, after playing against each other YN's Jealousy creeps in when she sees Lucy with Keira she realises she'll never have her.
Warning: Hurt, implied Smut, Adult themes, Language
5 weeks and 5 days of complete and utter radio silence. The sound of her voicemail made me want to pull my hair out. Throwing my phone into my locker I continue to get ready for the game.     "Have to face me now" I mumbled to myself as I tied my boots.    "Let's go Chook" Nodding I got up and headed to the pitch, following the warm up procedure I couldn't help but turn. I found her warming up alongside Keira Walsh jealousy ran through me seeing her smile at her.  
Dropping my head I began stretching. It took everything in me not to turn to her again. Jealousy burnt through me and the green monster won as I turned my head only to feel my heart drop as Lucy stretched Keira leg. The realisation washed through me she'd found someone else. I was too late. I messed up.  
"CHOOK" looking down the ball went pass me  
"Shit sorry" Chasing after the ball I dribbled it back. Kicking it to Sammy's feet she stopped the ball easily but her eyebrows raised and her head was turned "What?"  
Sammy scoffed coming over to me "What's going on you've been moody for months?" She signed "Come on chook talk to me"  
"After" 
"You sure?" Sam asked  
"Yeah"  
After warming up and returning to the change rooms it didn’t take long to resurface onto the pitch. I gripped the little girl's hand as I walked onto the pitch. 
"I am so excited" she squealed "sorry"  
"Don’t ever be sorry for being you" I smiled back at her.  
I watched her fight a smile turning around. Putting my hand on her shoulders the whistle went and handshakes began. Moving down the opposition I felt her hand but she didn’t make eye contact "Lucy?" I asked.    Watched Lucy run away to her team and my heart slipped further into my stomach as I watched her throw her hands over Keira shoulders, pressing her to her side. Scoffing I walked back to my team. The motivated speech went in one ear and out the other. 
 "Switch on Chook" Sam blasted me.    "Shit my bad" Putting my hand in we cheered and I went to my position and as much as I wanted to leave it all off the pitch I couldn't because the girl I fell in love with, The girl who has been a massive part of my life for the last three years hates me and I don't even know why. 
  "Chook NOW" Turning my player I ran down the line catching the throw ball in a volley. My legs began to move as I passed the Midfield and Defence.  
Taking a deep breath I kicked the ball. The crowd screamed but my body hurt "What the fuck?" I coughed blinking a few times everything was dark. Fear crept within me. Moving my hands to my face I signed relief as the field came into view. 
The crowd booed turning I could see Keira being spoken to by the Ref "Come on chook" Smiling up at my fellow Australian I let Alanna pull me up "Bitch you scored a goal"    "Bitch I ate dirt" I smirked, "I thought I was blind"    "Your face is covered in mud" She laughed.  
"Who tackled me?"  
"Keira pretty late too" Alanna cringed. I could feel her stare turning around I saw her eyes follow my body before going over to Keira. Shaking my head I limped back to my side of the field. Stretch my spine my eyes watched the ref Book Keira with a yellow which had the Chelsea fan booing loudly. 
The game went on and I felt Keira boots every time I had the ball. Getting the ball I turned only to feel pure pain "FUCK" I screamed rolling in pain. My finger digging into the dirt. 
"YN stay still" turned at her voice "Are you okay? Just breathe medics coming" her eyes were filled with concern. 
I scoffed at her response "You don't care Lucy, I'm nobody to you now so just leave me alone"  
Her eyes widen as she stepped forward only to be pushed back by medics. Let them take me away in a stretcher to the change room. 
… 
Australian girls and I were out for the night, tables filled with drinks and food and the banter was as loud as the music. I had an ice pack strapped to my leg "I think you should tell her" Sammy bumped my shoulder "Put it all out there and you 10 times better than Keira if you swung my way when I was free"    "Shut up" I laughed.    "Missed out on all this"    Laughing "Thank god"    "Hey"    "So you told anyone"    "Just you. I'm not ready to-"    Sammy nodded "I got you chook but when Caitlin finds out she's going to be devastated" turning to Foord we both laughed at the dork trying to catch nuts in her mouth.     "Got to wee, be back soon" Groaning I threw a chip in my mouth and slid out of the booth.    Walking down the hallway I headed for the toilets, turning the corner my eyes widened at the long line. Crossing my legs together I glared at the drunk person in front of me whining about her red-flag boyfriend.     "YN" Turning on my heels I turned to see Keira Walsh and Lucy standing there "Sorry about the injury"    Tongue glided over my top teeth as I stared up at her "No biggie" Turning my head I closed the gap.    "How's the leg?"     Turned staring at Lucy "Working"    "Can we talk?"    "Thought we were going to get drinks" Keira pouted.    "It's important Chook"    Signing I nodded "Need to Wee meet you outside" Turning I walked into the empty cubical as I released my bladder I signed I was so hurt, angry and jealous but this was it the talk where she said we couldn't be friends anymore she was with Keira. 
Washing my hands "She's going to tell you she's moved on" Looking up in the mirror "We went on a date the other night, she said you were clingy messaging and calling all the time especially after losing you father, sorry for your loss by the way"    "Congrats" I ignored her insult. Shaking my hands I felt my heart drop at the mention of my father, I stared at the sign and decided to get over with it. Second I stepped outside the cold air nipped at my skin making me the sun. Hugging my arms I looked around to find her.    Lips pressed together I limped towards her taking a seat "You cold?"    "What you want to talk about Lucy?"     Lucy signed taking her jacket off "Put it on"    "I'm fine Lucy how about we get this over with? Were no longer friends? Right? You've got a girlfriend now who hates me so it's easier if we're not friends-"    "YN"     "No its fine thank you for being there for me with my dad and in France truly you were the highlights of my days" standing up "Good luck I hope she gives everything you deserve"     "Chook-"    "No Lucia I get it sorry I was just such a burden" Sliding the chair back.    "Are you going to let me speak?" I stopped holding back tears "YN put on the Jacket your shaking" She groaned throwing jacket around my shoulder "Now please" her thumb brushed my cheek "Please don't cry"    "Just say it" I signed feeling defeated. She was going to break up with me and we weren't even together.     "Keira and I are not together, you're not a burden and you were the highlight of my days Chook but you like guys and I like you and it will never work. Every day I spent with you made it so hard to know I could never have you"    Shook went through me "Lucy-"    "I'm not wrong I can't have you and I've wanted you since I first listened to you butcher the French language...But you like guys and I can't keep hurting myself-"     Stepping closer I cupped her cheek "You Lucy are an idiot" Pressing my lips to hers, she was frozen under my kiss, pulling back I looked into those green eyes "I broke up with my ex-boyfriend because I wanted you and it wasn't fair to string him along when all I wanted was you for the last 2 years"    Watched Lucy frown in confusion "You like, like me?"    "Yeah," I smiled "Just didn't want you to reject me" I signed.    Lucy and I looked at each other before bursting into laughter. Lucy stepped forward tipping my head up at her, her thumb moving the tears that had escaped "I'm Sorry I iced you out"     "I'm sorry I didn't say anything" watched those pearly whites shine before she kissed me with so much force I stumbled. Her hands tightened on my waist pressing me to her body, A Moan slipping my lips, her tongue took advantage and I felt myself pulse. Pulling away we both smiled as our foreheads rested on each other "Tell Keira I don't like her touching my girl"    "Your girl?" Lucy laughed    "Oh yeah all mine, unless you want her I can go?" I asked stepping back Lucy's hand gripped tighter on my hips.    "Waited 2 years...you aren't going anywhere but home with me"     "Oh home with you?" I mocked    "Yeah I want you on my tongue" Lucy laughed hard "Cute when you blush"    "My god Lucy" I snorted hiding my face. Lucy laughed as she led me out of the club her hand gripping mine strongly.  
A/N: I love Keira Walsh but for the sake of this story she's the Villain...Don't come for me please
320 notes · View notes
jaegeraether · 4 months
Text
Sunsets and footballers (Part 25)
Lucy Bronze x Reader (24)
Masterlist (other parts here)
YFN had the worst sleep she’d had since she arrived in England. She woke feeling fatigued and found herself patting around for Lucy which woke her from her half-asleep daze. Of course, she wouldn’t find her. She was 1200km away.
She forced herself to get up, dragging her feet to the bathroom to start her day. She showered miserably, thinking about the airport, the feel of Lucy’s lips, the sudden jolt of her heart when she’d said those three words. She’d frozen, unable to say them back, and Lucy had looked a little disappointed. She had no idea why, but her fight or flight had been triggered by that, and it completely took her by surprise. She looked out through the glass shower pane at Lucy’s little blue toothbrush. She caught herself and shook her head.
You need to grow up, she told herself. YFN had been alone for most of her life, this was pathetic. She was better than this.
Out in the kitchen she found a note from Jordan.
Good morning, roomie!
Breakfast in fridge.
Smash your first meeting today!
Love you! x
Jordan saying that was vastly different to Lucy saying it, perhaps because she was so obsessed with Lucy. She smiled at the note and replied to her as she ate the oats and yoghurt she’d made her.
You’re amazing. Thank you for breakfast, Dory! *big eyes emoji*
Still on to pick up Blu tonight?
She knew she wouldn’t reply at training and went on with her day, packing and preparing for their first meeting. She made sure she looked sharp and was extra early, arriving at the generously sized conference room Joe had booked in a luxurious hotel in town. Her mouth dropped as she’d entered the hotel, and the booked room was beyond anything expected. She set herself up for a long day, making sure to talk to the hotel staff about the food options. Joe had already booked canapes for them, and the hotel had a service to regularly offer them any food or drink they needed throughout the day.
She was pleasantly surprised when all of them arrived early, seemingly keen for their first meeting. There were 9 in total, 4 videographers: Samantha, Ethan, Bridget, Matt, 4 photgraphers: Daniel, Ruby, Olivia, and Emily who was in a relationship with Bridget, and then there was Noel, their IT guy who dabbled with a bit of everything. YFN realised quickly that Noel was incredibly technologically gifted, he just happened to lack a bit of social skill. The sight of his overgrown, wild hair, and his worn down converse shoes added to the stereotype he so perfectly filled.
It was perfectly clear from the start that Joe had hired some gifted people, she’d obviously put the work in to understand who they were. YFN had been worried at first about clashing personalities but it wasn’t an issue at all; they all were very much happy to bring proper media attention to women’s football.
Everything was spoken about from the company credit cards given to the by Joe for the fuel and equipment, to the creation of a schedule for the rest of a season so all games would have at least 1 photographer and 1 videographer there. They each knew their role, and so with most of the logistics covered, they moved onto creating the brand. YFN was keen to hear their ideas as they were all female football fans themselves, so they knew what they wanted to see as fans. They messed around for a bit using the presentation screen they had set up, picking at their canapes and discussing what would be the most appealing shots and photos to get.
“Oh… my god.. is that Lucy Bronze?” Noel commented as YFN had been flicking through images of players on her MacBook for inspiration.
A few chuckles went around the room. The other eight people had already been following YFN on social media for a while, so she had assumed they all knew they were dating.
“They’re dating, Noel. Are you not on Instagram?” Ruby chuckled.
“D…dating Lucy? You?”
YFN knew Noel didn’t mean offense by it, he was just awkward. “I know, right? Lucky me.” She laughed. “Well, hey, if that excites you then have a look at these.”
YFN found a few of the more recent photos she’d taken of the footballer get-together they’d all had the night before. Somehow, Lucy had managed to take a photo on her phone of all of the one hundred and sixty-two players, though she was standing on chair to do it, her grinning face taking up a corner of the photo.
If they weren’t already excited, that certainly did it.
“Holy shit, is that Leah Williamson? Katie McCabe? Jill Roord?!” Matt was gawking.
“So, I’m sure most of you have already seen a few photos from last night on the players accounts, but this is the only photo of the whole group.. we had over a hundred players show interest in us as a company, and the results from last night are the player notes I’ve uploaded to our shared drive.”
They each had an iPad, and their shared drive was going to be used for all of them to have access to all of their work. She told them how interested the players were, how much work Joe had done behind the scenes, and showed them through that part of their shared drive, encouraging them to also collect similar information on the players she hadn’t met, by asking questions she had created.
“So.. all of these players have agreed to work with us?” Sam asked. She was more shy than the rest, but wickedly talented. YFN had seen her previous work.
She nodded. “Yes, so they’ve all agreed to give us priority for photos, videos and interviews. They do understand we’ll be starting slow and rolling into it.”
“And we’ll all be doing interviews?” Ruby asked. She was the more outspoken one of the group. She reminded YFN of Beth Mead a little.
“That’s the aim.” She saw Sam and Noel look a little nervous. “I understand it can be a little intimidating, and we do have our own beliefs we need to adhere to regarding the types of questions we ask, et cetera. Because of this, I’ll start the interviews myself, and one by one, I’ll make sure to give you all some training and do some dual interviews and supervising until you’re all comfortable. The last thing we want is to accidentally ask an offensive question, or ruin a players trust in us. This is what all of the information on each of the players is about. We need to be reading them before every interview so we know what they do and don’t want to talk about, et cetera, okay? Also, it’s vital as a company just starting up that we build their trust and keep it. We’re going to be different than the others, that’s our whole brand image.”
They nodded, a bit more at ease and understanding. They each acknowledged the homework they’d need to do on players, and understood their limitations at the start. Great suggestions were made, for example, Ethan had suggested they wear something that stood out so the players would know they were Lumos. A great suggestion that Joe had already thought of, being the businesswoman, she was. She’d had merchandise made and sent over for them to wear to games that would stand out. Their brand colours were purple and yellow, and their logo was well visible. They had a few items, all modern and comfy, and primarily for the colder temperatures. Shirts, hoodies, beanies and scarves. They could wear whatever they wanted, as long as it stood out for the players to see. They all loved the beanies which were a sexy royal purple with their logo in yellow, offset, and they agreed that while players got used to their colours, they’d prioritise wearing the beanies.
Their schedule set out for the upcoming week were as such:
Aston Villa vs Chelsea (Bescot Stadium, Birmingham): 4th Nov 1230 - All to attend.
Arsenal vs Man City (Meadow Park, London): 5th Nov 1230 – Bridget, Emily and YFN to attend.
Spurs vs Everton (Brisbane Road, London): 5th Nov 1400 – Matt and Ruby to attend. YFN to stop by at the end.
Liverpool vs Leicester (Prenton Park, Liverpool): 5th Nov 1400 – Ethan, Daniel and Noel to attend.
West Ham vs Bristol (Chigwell Stadium, London): 5th Nov 1500 – Sam and Olivia to attend.
Brighton vs Man United (Broadfield Stadium, Crawley): 5th Nov 1845 – Bridget and Emily (relocate from Ars vs Man City), YFN to come later after stopping by the end of the Spurs and Everton game at Brisbane Road.
They were working right up until YFN realised it was late, and they needed time to get home. Only Matt and Ruby lived in Birmingham, Ethan lived in Liverpool, Daniel in Manchester, and the rest were from London. Limiting driving had been her main concern when she’d created their schedules, and also the reason they didn’t need an office just yet.
They all parted ways, agreeing to meet again in that same conference room for rest of the week to go over more prep work for the interviews, editing and games.
“I’m sorry, I was so distracted with everything going on!” YFN admitted as she walked through the front door. Jordan was home from training and making dinner.
“That’s alright, chicken, I thought you had.” Jordan laughed. “Figured you’d want an early dinner. Plus we have three hours of driving to do, so I figured we’d eat early so we can leave early!”
“Good idea! And that smells amazing, pasta?”
“Chicken pesto pasta. Go get dressed, dinner’s almost done. I want us to try and leave by six.”
Two hours later they were in the car and approaching Sheffield. Jordan’s parents were visiting family there for the night, and had brought Blu down for her to pick up. Jordan’s parents were Keith and Kerry, and they were lovely. Although it was a brief introduction, they’d gotten along well. YFN loved meeting parents, it put into perspective for her just what made Jordan the bubbly little affectionate person she was. They said their goodbyes and YFN drove home so Jordan wouldn’t be too tired for training the next day. Blu was sat cuddled on her lap in a blanket, as affectionate as his mum.
“All of these guys are like this.” Jordan said, referring to the breed, Dachshund. “I just love him so much.”
“He’s adorable. I especially love how he looks like he’s walking fast when he’s walking slow.”
“Argh, isn’t he the cutest? Our new little roomie.”
“I’m going to buy him a little hoodie.”
Jordan loved the idea. “How did your goodbye with Lucy go?”
They hadn’t spoken about that on the trip up, they’d spoke about their days, Jordan talking about her training and YFN talking about her plans with the company. Jordan had been so interested in what she had planned, also excited to hear that the first official match to cover was going to be Aston Villa vs Chelsea in Birmingham on Saturday.
She gave out a sigh and explained to Jordan about how emotional the day had been. “I’ve never had to rely so much on one person, or want to shift my whole life around someone before. It’s terrifying to be honest.”
“How was Lucy..?”
“She was okay during the day… a little quiet. She got a bit emotional at the airport. There were quite a few tears.” She admitted.
“Lucy cried?” Jordan seemed surprised. YFN was a little surprised by Jordan’s reaction, until she thought about it. Lucy wasn’t overly emotional with anyone. She didn’t like to be comforted or cry. But with YFN it was different, and she regularly saw that different side of her so often that it was easy to forget. Her vulnerable Lucy. It was a good reminder as to how open she was being with YFN.
“She’s okay.. also there’s something else I need to get off my chest. I’m really ashamed about it.”
Jordan looked at her with kind eyes, encouraging her to go ahead.
“I…. Lucy told me she loved me at the airport.”
“What?! That’s amazing! Oh my god, she’s not usually so open-” She cut herself off as she realised. “You didn’t say it back?”
“I kind of froze? My fight or flight triggered. I didn’t tell her that, I just sort of… cried because I was so happy and sad and overwhelmed and upset that I’d disappointed her by not being able to say it.”
“Do you love her?”
“Yes! Of course. For as long as I’ve known her. She’s it for me, I want her in every way, I just… I have no idea why I reacted like that.”
Jordan thought for a little bit, stroking Blu as she went into that little zone she fell into often. “Do you think… it’s because you’re scared that you’ll lose her?” She asked softly. YFN could tell it was triggering her feelings about Leah and their breakup.
She thought about it. Was she just scared that she’d let herself open up and that Lucy would leave? Like her mum did? Her dad? Tears sprung to her eyes and she had her answer. “Yeah… I think you’re spot on there. I’m so used to being left behind. The thought of letting Lucy in too deep is terrifying because if I lose her… I don’t know what I’d do. She’s just… fucking… wormed her way into my heart and I can’t bear to lose her.”
Jordan nodded, fully understanding and still in her little zone.
“How are you feeling, Dory?” She asked gently.
“I miss her.” Jordan’s voice was quiet and full of emotion. Admitting that was huge.
“I know she was going to ask you to this charity event.. would you like to go in my place?”
She shook her head quickly. “Training has been really good for me lately, it’s clearing my mind a bit. I think I’ll give it a few more days and then if I’m ready, you can tell me how she’s doing at the event. I’m not going to open myself back up if she’s given up.”
“Oh, I think she’s far from given up. The way she talks about you..”
Jordan thought for a bit and then chuckled. “Jeez, what a pair we make, huh?”
It didn’t take long until YFN found herself on day three of thirteen. YFN was tired, with an inability to sleep. She’d managed to get herself into a little space half-way between asleep and awake when her mind was overwhelmed. Lucy. Lucy. Everywhere she looked. Lucy. Social media? Lucy. People talking? Lucy fucking Bronze. She groaned and forced her eyes open, looking at the ceiling. What was happening to her? Why couldn’t she stop her brain? This obsession?
She sighed and let herself fall victim to it instead. She loved her. Lucy had quickly become the most important person in her life, and there was nothing wrong with that, she just wasn’t used to that much emotion. She felt like she’d lost a lot of her control with her mind always on her, and her body physically wanting her at every second. She feared for her work productivity when she would eventually arrive in Spain.
“Just go with it,” she whispered to herself. She took out her phone and looked at the photos Lucy had posted earlier to social media. Oh, she knew what she was doing with those. YFN bit her lip as her mind went on a happy little journey of the times Lucy had touched her. She looked at the photo, one in particular. Those lips had been on her, those muscly thighs had been driving that strap into her, that gorgeous face with her goddamned jaw had been under her when she demanded she sat on her face. And that she had. Gratefully.
“Fuck.” She groaned. How did she have this much hold over her from such a distance? She put the phone on the bed next to her and had a ‘fuck it’ moment. She took hold of one of her nipples, teasing it with flicking and pinching as she slid her other hand underneath the waistband of her underwear. She felt how moist she was there, only getting worse the more she thought about her Lucy. She felt through her own folds, two fingers landing on her clit. Her breathing became ragged as her two fingers worked her clit, dragging more wetness up from her core when she needed it. She’d never particularly been good at masturbating, she always got into her head too much, but it seemed to be a lot easier when Lucy was on her mind. Still, she didn’t know if she could get there. She rubbed and squirmed as her other hand found her other nipple. She went at it for a while, her body slightly sweaty as she chased the feeling Lucy made her feel. Her clit became sensitive, so she moved her fingers down and thrust two inside of herself wondering what she felt like to Lucy. The wet sounds were audible even under the blanket as she fucked herself like that a little, her back arching and breathing getting louder. Lucy. Lucy. Lucy.
She knew she wouldn’t be able to come without her tonight, her mind too frustrated. She groaned and grabbed her phone, slowing her hand to a slow circle over her clit. She was about to embarrass herself out of sexual need.
“Little one?” Lucy answered, obviously just being woken up.
YFN pulled her phone back to look at the time. It was midnight, which meant it was 1am there.
“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” she cried softly. “Go back to sleep, Luce.”
“No! No.. stay.. I miss your voice.” YFN loved Lucy’s sleepy voice. Less cocky and more… big kid Lucy.
“I miss your voice too,” she admitted.
“Why were you calling, love? Did you need to hear my voice too?”
“Y….yes…” She said but Lucy caught on.
“That was a lie.” She switched to Facetime and YFN squinted at the now brighter screen. Lucy stared at the screen in front of her, half-asleep and so adorable it broke her heart. She reached over and took her glasses off her nightstand and put them on, smiling and settling back down onto the pillow when she could see her better. “God, you’re pretty.”
The sight and sound of Lucy was getting her wetter than she ever thought possible, and her clit pulsed under her slowly moving hand. Her lips trembled and she gave a little gasp, her face reddening slightly.
Lucy’s face dropped and her mouth opened slightly as she moved closer to the camera with darkening eyes. “Little one, are you… touching yourself?”
She pressed her lips together and stopped her hand, trying to tell her face to stop getting redder. Oh, she was embarrassed now.
“Don’t stop.” Lucy pleaded.
“I’m sorry..” she whispered, ignoring Lucy’s plea.
“Don’t stop.” She said harder. YFN’s fingers began moving again. “Good girl. That’s it, keep doing as I tell you.” Lucy was awake now and clearly happy telling her what to do.
“Luce..” she whispered.
“Shhh love. Do as I say. Put the camera down there, I want to hear how wet you are for me.”
YFN trembled but did as she was told, holding the phone down near her pussy. It was too dark for Lucy to see anything, but she could hear her groaning. She left it there for a minute or so before bringing it back up.
“Fuck, you’re so sexy. Fingers inside. Now.”
YFN reacted automatically doing as she was told. She thrust two fingers inside and jerked, gasping.
“That’s right, fuck yourself. Be a good girl. Yes… yes right there, I can see you like that. Fuck yourself there.”
YFN’s eyes were closed as she did what she was told, listening to her girlfriend.
“Put the phone down. Use my pillow so I can see you.”
YFN did just that, leaning it against Lucy’s pillow so she had a decent view of her.
“Ugh, I wish I could taste you right now. You have no idea.”
But she did, because she would have done anything for the opportunity to be in Lucy’s mouth right now.
“That’s my girl, keep going. You were just going to call and let me go back to sleep, huh? You know better than that.” She growled.
“I… I really miss you, Luce,” she whimpered.
“Nothing feels as good as me inside of you, does it?”
She shook her head.
“Out loud.”
“No,” she whispered.
“Keep fucking yourself in and out. Your fingers are mine, that’s me fucking you right now. Keep going, my girl. That’s it, you’re getting closer now.” YFN’s back was starting to arch.
“I want your free hand to pinch your nipples. That’s my girl, you’re so good at doing what you’re told. Fuck, your tits are amazing. I want to be sucking them right now.”
She knew Lucy had a good view from where she’d put the phone, able to see most of her body from the side and especially her back arching off of the bed. She was so frustrated at getting barely anywhere, now just teetering on her edge and unable to make that final push.
“Patience, little one, we’re almost there. Push those blankets off, let me see you.”
YFN pushed the blankets off that were covering the lower half of her body. She pulled her feet up the bed further, widening her knees apart. She was brutally aware that Lucy couldn’t only hear her whimpers and moans now, but the wet sound from her fingers fucking in and out of her also.
“Argh fuck. Fuck. Fuck, you’re so… fuck.”
YFN turned her head to look at Lucy who seemed incredibly frustrated. Her eyes were dark, her lips parted and breathing heavily.
“L…Luce. You can touch yourself too.” She gasped, knowing she must look a state at the moment. Lucy’s attention moved from her fingers to her face as they locked onto each other’s eyes across the screen. Lucy didn’t say anything, but she saw her shift and her eyes flicker into the back of her head for a second as she found herself.
“I’ll slow down and wait for you..” YFN offered and calmed down a little, her fingers coming out of her and moving up to circle her clit slowly. One more push and she could get there.
They fucked themselves across the screen, gasping and saying dirty, sexy things to work each other up. The sound of Lucy’s whimpers had an effect on her that nothing else had, because she was letting herself be so vulnerable.
“Lucy I’m coming… I’m coming..”
“Good girl, you can come.”
She could come? She had permission? Lucy was controlling her orgasms? She certainly was.. that last sentence sent her body shuddering into a wet mess, her back arching and muscles locking as she rode that excitement, listening to Lucy’s voice. She worked herself down quickly, knowing Lucy was also close. She knew she was watching and so she took her dripping fingers out of her body and dragged them up to her nipple closest to the camera, rubbing it between her fingers and biting her lip as she wound herself down.
Lucy groaned at the sight and YFN turned to her with a little dimply smile as she put those two wet fingers in her mouth and sucked on them like she was giving head.
“Argh don’t stop. Please… don’t stop…” Lucy pleaded and YFN started to moan as she sucked and licked the taste of her from her own fingers. “Oh fuuuck. Argh. Ye…yes!” Lucy came suddenly, and it was always something she was obsessed with seeing. YFN watched her eyes squeeze shut and her body lock up in her orgasm. The side view was spectacular, her well earned muscles tight against her skin, and the artery throbbing in her neck. She watched as her girlfriend rode that wave all the way down into a slightly sweaty, but very relaxed mess.
Lucy eventually turned to the camera with a lazy smile. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and adjusted her glasses before she propped her head up on her pillow.
“You’re incredible.”
YFN blushed. “That was… successful.”
“Do you feel better?”
She blew out a heavy breath. “I really needed that, I think. I feel a lot better.”
“Good..” She got a little closer to the camera as she studied her. “Have you been sleeping..?”
She was caught. YFN shook her head. “I can’t seem to sleep without you..”
“Oh, love. I sleep horrible without you too. I can’t wait until you’re here. Ten days.”
“Ten days. We can do that.” She sounded unsure. “I’m sorry for waking you, I genuinely didn’t realise how late it was.”
Lucy scoffed. “You know you can wake me any time, for any reason. I have you on bypass. And that… was a pretty good reason.”
YFN grinned, proud of herself. “Good luck at your game on Sunday...”
“Will you be watching?”
“I’ll be travelling between games, Luce.. but I’ll keep up with the score. Promise.”
149 notes · View notes
tonedtsumu · 5 months
Text
Day 11: Sugawara
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Warnings: Smut, public sex, mirror sex, cream pie
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Sugawara had this challenge in the bag. You had broken up with him in October, of course he hadn't given up on you, but he was sure it'd take time to get back in your good graces. So, this month would be easy for him; no temptation from walking into your apartment and seeing you in the kitchen, or walking into his apartment and letting his eyes fall to you still in his bed, where he had left you earlier that morning.
Three years together. Three wonderful, beautiful, amazing, fun years coming to an abrupt end when he had forgotten to show up to yet another date planned days in advance. You loved him, you really, truly did, but not enough to be on the backburner when you saw the world of him.
Going to a former classmates wedding was refreshing… until you realized he would be there. Obviously, you were supposed to go together, and there was no point in finding a plus one at the last minute, so both of you were there alone. Mix that in with a few drinks, some awkward run-ins, only one available bathroom; and you have yourself some sexual tension that couldn't be ignored.
If someone were to be standing outside the bathroom at this moment, they would be disgusted; at a wedding? Of all places?
Lewd squelching, pitchy whines, and grunts full of curses sounded out through the closed room, so clouded with lust and desire that you both could not find yourselves to care if anyone heard.
“Missed you so much, sweetheart,” his words were spoken directly in your ear from behind, having you bent over the bathroom sink gave him the advantage of having you however he pleased, watching the way his cock was welcomed so easily into your dripping heat. Hitting every spot with precision, looking at your reflection in the mirror and drinking in the way your eyes rolled back, your mouth hung open trying to take in huffs of air, “please, want you- want you back.”
The only thoughts running through your mind were filled with him, him, him, “Koushi-” you dragged his name out in a whine that had his grip on your waist tightening, scared that if he were to loosen up on you in the slightest, you’d be gone again; out of his reach… and he never wanted you to go anywhere he couldn’t be.
“‘m here, baby. I’m not going anywhere.” Those words. Those words had your cunt clenching, gushing with no warning, a scream ripping from your throat that he couldn’t, wouldn’t silence, “that’s it,” he cooed sweetly, looking down to where you were connected to see your cum dripping onto the shiny, tiled floor, “cum on my cock, ‘s all yours.”
Bringing his eyes back to the mirror with a groan, the sight before him was his undoing; your wet eyes, drool falling from the corner of your lips, hair a mess thanks to him. You were still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, and he was the one who made you look this way. Attaching his lips to your neck, he came with a moan that had you falling in love all over again; as if you fell out in the first place.
His hips stilled, but he leaned back just enough to keep himself still set in your warmth to watch as the mixture of both of your cum pooled on the ground at your feet, a light laugh left him, “what’s so funny?” you asked, dazed, trying to catch your breath.
“We just fucked, in a bathroom, at our friends wedding,” he chuckled, leaning back over you to pepper loving kisses up your neck and to your jaw.
You rolled your eyes playfully while shoving him away from you, trying to hide a hiss as you felt his length slip from your pussy, “shut up Suga-”
“No, no,” he stopped you from using his last name, using his grip on your waist to turn you around, looking you in the eyes desperately, “please, just one more chance.”
You placed a single finger on your chin, pretending to think on it a bit, “one chance, Koushi, one more.”
The warmth, the life, the love was brought back to life in his eyes. Losing ‘No Nut November’, but gaining the love of his life back? “You won’t regret this, I promise.” He wouldn’t have it any other way.
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wasawattpadkid · 11 months
Text
Housewife
Part - 19
Summery: Billy and Stu have been planning these murders for quite some time. Everything is going to plan until you show up. What happens when they meet someone who is just as mentally deluded as they are?
Pairing: Poly! ghostface x fem!reader
Warnings for this series: murder, blood, smut (will be more in depth on smut chapters), power dynamics, a dash of sexism, knives, stalking, perverse behavior, cheating,
Part 1
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Dewey looked at the boy with pity. Billy's right hand was wrapped in a white cast. He had spent an hour in the hospital setting his broken hand back in place. It was way worse than getting stabbed according to him. The officers on duty all thought the boy was hilarious. The makeup paired with the outfit he was a walking joke. Dewey only made matters worse. His coworkers almost died laughing watching the deputy sign his name on Billy's cast.
"I hear Batman is getting released," Todd said leaning on Dewey's desk. "Yes, Billy is being released I already called someone to pick him up." The deputy left his seat on his way to talk to the inmate.
"Stu said he's on his way," Dewey said taking a seat outside of the holding cell. Billy hadn't spoken much. The few times he did it was to give his statement on what happened or ask if you were okay. He didn't care about anything else. Billy was too busy planning on killing the fucker that laid his hands on you. "Did he say how Y/n was doing?" The boy's gaze stayed glued to the moldy ceiling. "No, just that he'd be on his way to pick you up. I told him about your hand." Billy looked at the deputy with a scoff. "That's great."
"What did you think he's going to miss that when he shows up to get you?" Billy had begged the doctor just to set his hand and leave it be. Turns out they can't do that. Now he was stuck with a heavy cast with Dewey's name on it. He didn't even agree to that the deputy just grabbed a marker and did it.
"I know seeing that mask set you off. That and what happened to Y/n. Look, you're not in any trouble. If Daniel decides to press charges the county won't prosecute you. It'd be a waste of time. You were protecting her and after all that's happened you don't need to worry about this." Dewey's change of heart confused Billy. Every time he's run into the officer he's been met with nothing but disdain and hostility. Now Dewey wants to act like his friend. "What happened to you? You hated me just days ago." Billy sat up on the bench making eye contact with the man.
Dewey realized what you said that day in the office was true. The three of you needed to look out for each other. At the end of the day, he felt bad for all of you. The ghost of the massacre would follow the survivors for as long as they lived. They were just kids. No one deserved what happened to them that night. Dewey hated himself for living through it and he was sure the three of you felt similarly. Survivor's guilt they call it. He read a book about it.
He pulled off his hat sitting it neatly on his lap. "It's been 26 days since I lost Tatum... Even less since the funeral. I can still hear her sometimes." His eyes focused on his shoes as he talked. "I couldn't save her. For a while I blamed Stu. How could her boyfriend who loves her let that happen? I know that Neil was the one who took her but I guess I needed someone else to blame." Dewey leaned forward looking up at Billy through the bars.
"I care about Y/n like I know you do. I treated you and Stu poorly because I saw what happened to the people you loved. That was messed up, I get that now and I'm sorry. I don't want her to go through what my sister did. You did a damn good job of taking care of her tonight."
Billy sat in silence. He didn't feel bad about what he did to Tatum. Neither did he feel bad about what he did to Sydney. It was necessary to move on with his life to start over. He felt It was fair considering what the Prescott family took from him. Maureen's choices shouldn't have fucked up his whole life but they did. Billy just leveled the playing field.
Listening to Dewey's sob story almost made the boy sick to his stomach. He didn't feel bad about what he did rather he felt horrible that he didn't care. Dewey wasn't his friend or his brother, he shouldn't care about his feelings. Yet here he was feeling sorry for the officer. "I can't lose her," Billy spoke in something akin to a whisper. His voice was broken almost as much as his hand.
"You've got a good head on your shoulders. You won't. After the stunt you pulled tonight I'd say she's in good hands." Dewey did think it was odd that Billy was able to move on so quickly from Sydney. He guessed that the boy was trying to fill the hole that abruptly appeared. Dewey couldn't blame him. He was doing the same thing. Where did that leave you though? After all of this, he didn't want you to get more hurt than you already had been. "You think so?" Billy asked loving the idea of protecting you. What he did at the party felt good. Feeling that fuckers bones crack beneath his hand was exhilarating. Of course, he wished he didn't have to do it. He hated the fact he let it happen. The details of your attack were lost on Billy. All he saw was the masked boy pining you to the wall as his hands pulled at your dress.
"I do. Just maybe take it easy for a while?" Dewey smiled lighting up the conversation. "I'll try." Billy nodded. "Deputy, Can I speak to you for a moment?" Another officer called Dewey away leaving Billy alone in the cell.
Billy looked down at his cast trying not to pick at it. He didn't like having it on. It was a nuisance to put it lightly. The doctor told him he'd have to wear it for at least six weeks. Frankly, he didn't think he could make it that long mainly because of the name written in black ink on the cast. "Billy?" Dewey spoke walking into the room. His keys jangled as he opened up the cell door. "Stu's here to pick you up."
Once all the paperwork was done and signed Billy was finally allowed to leave the county jail. "Oh, she's going to kill you," Billy said looking at your car in the parking lot. Stu was upset. Billy hadn't said one word to him. Not a "thank you," "glad to see ya," "go fuck yourself," nothing. "Me? What about you?" Stu spat getting into the driver's seat.
"What about me? I saved her from that creep." Billy thought he was your knight in shining armor. You kept him fed and he kept you safe. After all, that's what you wanted right?
"You told the whole town you two were dating. Billy, you knew she wanted to wait." Stu drove while Billy rolled his eyes. "They were going to find out eventually. Everyone already thinks you two were fucking behind Tatum's back." Stu kept his eyes on the road. "Don't talk about her." After his talk with Dewey, Stu felt differently about a few things. "Jesus, what crawled up your ass tonight?" Stu hit the brakes making Billy's head hit the dash. "What the fuck!" The boy yelled holding his now bleeding head. "It's four in the morning. I just had to drive across town to pick you up from jail and you haven't said thank you. I begged Dewey not to call your dad to save you from the fight that was bound to happen and still, no thank you. Do you give a shit about me at all? Cause lately I feel like the only one you pay attention to is little Miss Betty Crocker. If I have to put on an apron for you to give a fuck I will. Is that what it's going to take?"
Billy's head pounded and Stu's yelling didn't help. "I'm sorry. Is that what you want to hear? My fucking hand is broken and you're upset that I didn't say thank you? You didn't even give me the chance. Where were you when she was getting attacked?" Stu's demeanor changed as he seemed to shrink. "You told me to get water-"
"That's right you were getting her water because you just had to give her alcohol. If you would've just gotten me and you a beer none of this would've happened. Don't jump my ass because all of this is your fault." Stu's face was red as tears weld up in his eyes. He gassed up the car driving in silence. The streetlights were smeared by his tears making it harder to see. This was his fault. That was what he told himself over and over. He was the one being selfish. He hadn't even noticed the bright white cast covering his partner's hand.
While Stu beat himself up over something he had no control over Billy cursed himself for yelling. "I'm sorry for shouting." Billy broke the silence. Stu sniffled trying to compose himself. "I'm sorry for jumping your ass." He responded quietly.
Billy turned towards the driver sighing at the sight. "It's not your fault. If it's anyone's fault it's Daniel's." Stu rounded the corner sending a glance to Billy. He didn't know his partner knew your assailant. "Daniel?" Stu asked. "Daniel Lawson. I heard Dewey say his name when talking to some other asshole." Stu looked over at his friend seeing that gleam in his eyes he hadn't seen for a while. "What are you thinking?" Billy smirked already having a plan. "I'm thinking we're about to have one less student attending Woodsboro high school."
By the time Stu pulled into the garage both men had smiles on their faces. Stu was happy to have his partner in crime back. It was probably unhealthy that the time he felt closest to Billy was when they were planning a murder. This was something only the two of them shared. Billy didn't want to include you because he saw you as too innocent to partake in such a depraved act. Even after what you did that night at Stu's place. To put it simply it was men's work.
Stu didn't want to include you because he had Billy to himself. It was their little secret this time. Stu would make sure you wouldn't find out about it. It was a win for everyone involved. Your attacker would disappear and Stu got to spend quality time with his boyfriend. It was a win win scenario.
"I'm going to take a shower and get something to eat before I head to bed." Billy pulled his boots off sitting them by the door. Stu stood behind his lover starting to kiss his neck softly. All the planning had stirred something inside of the short-haired boy. "Stu..." Billy warned not really in the mood. That didn't stop him however as his hand slowly slid down the front of Billy's outfit. "I'm tired." He spoke trying not to hurt Stu's feelings. His hand slipped underneath Billy's pants making him pull away. "Enough, alright? I'm tired and I'm hungry. I'm not in the mood right now."
Billy's hand was still killing him and his stomach was fighting for attention. Not to mention the throbbing headache he now had thanks to Stu. The last thing on his mind was sex unfortunately for his partner. Billy didn't mean anything by it. It wasn't personal but Stu took it as such.
"Whatever I'm going to sleep. You'll probably have more room on the couch than the bed." Stu walked upstairs leaving Billy with a headache. He was used to Stu's mood swings they happened ever so often. That along with an occasional manic episode. If he was lucky Stu would wake up in a better mood. Billy rubbed his face stopping halfway realizing too late he had makeup on. "Fuck..." He cursed.
Billy walked into the kitchen fixing himself a sandwich. He decided he would eat first and then take a shower. It was a funny sight. The man covered in makeup and blood stains was sitting at the kitchen table trying his best to eat a sandwich with his left hand. Once it was gone he put his plate in the sink, he'd wash it later. Billy decided to use the downstairs bathroom not about to suffer Stu's wrath once again.
Showering was more difficult than anticipated. The more he struggled to get his shirt off the more aggravated he got. "God damnit!" He cursed a little too loud. "Stupid..." He whispered to himself. With a couple of deep breaths, he went into the kitchen grabbing a pair of scissors. It wasn't an easy task to cut the shirt from his body. The doctor at the hospital cut the duct tape and the sleeve of his shirt off leaving room to put on the cast. Funny enough he left Billy to suffer with the rest of the fabric. His hand fumbled with the scissors struggling to get them to cut anything.
His yelling had woken you up. You could still feel the effects of the alcohol coursing through your veins. Thankfully it was less aggressive than before. Stu was laying sideways in the bed drooling onto your pillows. "Guess everyone had a rough night." You grumbled pulling yourself up from the bed.
You threw on your robe before heading down the stairs. Billy was home. His cursing and mumbling gave him away. "What are you doing?" Your eyes were squinted, offended by the white light in the bathroom. "Babe thank fuck. Cut this." He held the scissors towards you while you just stood confused. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust.
"What happened to your face?" You moved forward to run a finger over the dried blood. "Police brutality." He raised his eyebrows at the joke which didn't make you laugh. "Your arm..." You noticed the cast branded with Dewey's name. Gently you reached out inspecting the cast. "Don't ask." Billy shook his head at the signature. "How bad did you break it?" Just like that the whole scene replayed in your head. For a minute or two you watched your boyfriend turn into something you couldn't describe.
It was scary. You remembered how he looked when he was chasing you in the mall a few days after you moved. It was that same terrifying look just directed at someone else.
"They said I broke four knuckles, nothing too horrible." It was horrible. Some of the worst pain that boy ever felt but he wouldn't tell you that. You huffed a laugh. "How are you feeling?" He asked running his left hand over your head. Billy's eyes looked you up and down. You knew what he was wondering. "I'm okay. He didn't get that far if that's what you're asking." Billy shook his head. "It doesn't matter how far he got Y/n he shouldn't have touched you at all."
You grabbed the scissors slowly cutting the fabric off his body. "Are you upset that he touched me or are you upset that he hurt me?" The question was asked calmly. Billy didn't understand the difference between the two questions. To you however the difference was great. You seriously doubted Billy would've acted that same way if it was some other girl.
Billy chose his words carefully seeing you had scissors and all. "I'm not upset, I'm furious." His fingers grabbed your jaw lifting your chin. Your hands stopped, waiting for him to say something. Billy's eyes wandered your face his heart squeezed at the thought of anything happening to you. "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you tonight. I didn't know what he was doing. I heard you say my name and I saw his hand under your dress. I blacked out for a second." It was a bullshit excuse. He remembered every thought that flew through his brain. Billy could recite the boy's pained pleas if you asked him to. Now was the time to play up the boyfriend act. As days went on it got easier for him to do.
His eyes softened as he spoke. It was funny how things came full circle. You met Billy because of some bully trying to see down your shirt. That was the first person he ever hit. Now look at the two of you. Both of you were broken but somehow you were looking out for each other.
"You think you embarrassed me?" You pulled away from his touch. Everyone would be talking about it. You knew that, but Billy almost killed a man with his bare hands and he's worried about the scene he caused.
"You're not embarrassed?" Billy cocked his head to one side. You started to peel off the cut up shirt as you spoke. "No. I'm scared, I-I'm worried but I'm not embarrassed. Do you think I'm embarrassed of you?" That was one of Billy's concerns. That after tonight you wouldn't want anything to do with him. He knew if the roles were reversed he'd probably never leave his house again. Fearful of what people might say. You looked the man up and down. He looked broken literally and figuratively. "The guy wanted to see my scar. I think he had more to drink than I did." You laughed trying to make a joke out of the serious conversation. "It was scary, I thought... something bad was going to happen and it might have. I don't know. You stopped him before anything seriously fucked up happened so thank you."
You tossed the ripped pieces of the shirt in the trash almost falling over from spinning too fast. "Baby," Billy said as he grabbed your arm stabilizing you. "Still feeling it huh?" He smiled. "I'll never do this again." You promised but Billy doubted that. Billy knew by the way you and Stu danced that you two would have partying in common.
"I bet." He said turning on the shower so the water could warm up. "Make sure you scrub your face good. You don't want to break out." Billy nodded at your advice. "Are you going back to bed?" You yawned at the mention of sleep. "I'm exhausted. I'll save you a spot in bed okay?" Billy watched you walk into the hallway. "Okay, I won't be long." You shut the bathroom door behind you going back up to your room.
You tried to be normal about it all. Part of you swooned over what he did. In some sick twisted way, you enjoyed seeing him defend you the way he did. It made you feel invincible which was a dangerous feeling. The other part of you however feared the man you began to love. He could keep you safe from everyone but himself. Stu's behavior at the party was unsettling as well. The violence was more important to him than you. He rushed to your side but his shouting didn't stop. The fight was thrilling for Stu.
With a heavy heart and head, you threw your robe over the chair crawling into bed next to Stu. "Scoot." You shoved the boy forcing him to move to the side of the bed. Stu rolled over his back facing you. Deep in sleep, he grabbed your hand pulling your arm over his waist. With a small smile, you pulled him in effectively snuggling up to the man.
You didn't know how things would go. The headache you had could've been the alcohol or your overthinking. You were scared of the future. For too long you had lived on a day-to-day basis. It was nice for a while but eventually, you'd have to face the music. Something had to give.
Billy pulled on a pair of boxers along with a t-shirt before heading to bed. Stu had you wrapped in his arms leaving plenty of room for Billy. Carefully he climbed into bed not wanting to wake up either of you. He wasn't happy with the way things played out. Daniel should be dead not just concussed with a broken nose. Billy didn't give a shit about the details of your attack. That son of a bitch laid a finger on you, the one thing Billy promised to prevent. Daniel didn't know it yet but he was a dead man walking.
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Taglist (closed): @katie-tibo @agustdeeyaa @bowlofceral @gonnapermashift @tati-the-fangirl @kozumewhore @tatijoestar @illyanam1011 @c4rved-pumpk1n @msghostface @gojosbucket @sammanna @lokigirlszendaya @reneki @fetusharryluvr @kadu-5607 @pumpk1n-writes @zeysartzone @life-of-music3 @flyestvenustrap @littleblondesoprano @loomiscorpse @nicciekawegosblog @reneemunson @miss-puregotti @ksgsfsgaj @zoleea-exultant @briefwinnerpersonaturtle @mistydreamscape @l4venderia @nex-crowley @ashreblogsnow @brynaa223 @your-desire666 @billyloomiswhore4 @holyladyofsorrows @megluv1 @ellieswifeiya @yoluvrz @forallthstarsinthesky @madsothree @youcantbesirius @lubunnii @captainhowdysseptum @geekygremlin @madneedshelp
750 notes · View notes
mysticalsoot · 5 months
Text
heaven is you (godbur au)
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first installment of my godbur au & gift to my sister &lt;3
➸ note; i wanted to finish this for @lillylvjy. lillys been a big play in why i still write and why i haven’t given up on shifting or given up on myself or this account. thanks to her i don’t impulsively delete things and i move forward. a few months ago i threw the idea of godbur at her and we talked about it and formed this character, she gives me the credit but she deserves just as much credit as i do. she’s my sister, regardless of biological attachment, she is my sister. i love her and i will protect her for as long as she’ll let me. she’s always there for me, holding me up and supporting me. if i’m upset or hurt, she’s there to listen and offer support. she also spends way more money on me than she should. and i love her, so a little note, don’t mess with her. thank you lills, i love you and enjoy this lil fic i somehow managed to finish in a day! also big thanks to @sleeby-anon for helping me pick out the photo and just helping me with this fic- tysm! you’re very cool and i love u (thank you for being a good friend to lilly :3 )
➸ pairing; godbur x gn!reader
➸ summary; after a few (actually, many) instances where you risked your life in order to reach your beloved wilbur’s world, you have a final disagreement that brings him to a few realizations and maybe some more effort to bring you want you want
➸ warning; kinda hurt but comfort at end, illusions to suicide but not flat out said, probably swearing, is there an unbalanced power dynamic? probably, uses of baby (i’m sorry i’m a sucker for it-), i think that’s it!
➸ age-rating; 15+
➸ wordcount; 2k
main masterlist
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"darling," the word rolled off wilbur's tongue with ease, like it had been spoken millions of times. perhaps it had been, but your mind was too foggy with fear and desperation to think clearly, "you can't keep doing this."
he pleads for you, hands on your shoulders and eyebrows pulling together as he looks down at you.
"what else am I supposed to do?" your voice cracks as the words flow out, and he frowns, shaking his head and looking to the side.
"live," he pauses, turning his head to face you. his grip on your shoulders tightens just a bit, "there's more to life than seeking refuge in my world. be alive, live in mortality."
he's begging you, pleading for you. he hates to see you hurt, and he hates the way his world's laws are. you can't be thrust into immortal responsibilities yet, and you can't stay long as a mortal with purpose. you have to go, but you would rather die a million more times before you accept that.
"can't you just let me stay? what's the problem in letting me be free where I want to be, with you," you're pleading with him now. on your hands and knees praying to the god before you to just let you stay. you're standing, knees going weak just a smidge. your eyes are burning from tears and your cheeks are wet with a desperation.
"I can't, I really can't," his frown deepens and he pulls you into his chest, face in his white ruffly shirt. he smells like home, but a home you can never truly have. he cups the back of your head with his hand, rubbing at your scalp with his fingertips as you sigh.
"it's the rules," a kiss to the top of your head and you want to scream and cry and bang at his chest. but you don't, you stay still in his grasp, holding your calm in your hands so tightly.
"the rules are stupid," you mumble into his shirt, he moves a hand to rub your back.
he chuckles, nodding in agreement before speaking again, "I agree, love."
days pass after he sent you back, you mulled over ways and methods you could reach him again in desperate hope he'd finally give in to your pleas and let you stay.
you were wandering the woods, pacing between trees as you tried to narrow down your plans. you could try summoning him, but it wasn't fool proof. you could try to speak to him through meditation, but he sometimes ignored you 'for your sake'.
you weren't sure what would work, and you were kicking yourself for not knowing. but also for the doubts that filled your mind. what if he kicked you out again? told you to never see him again and made sure you couldn't? what if he forced you to live out your mortality purely out of his anger at you. what if he was angry?
you sigh, resting your head against the tree, sighing as you screw your eyes shut, banging your fist against the bark before stepping back.
"what more do you want?" you beckon up at the sky, he's not listening, you're sure of it but you need to be angry at something, somewhere. it's unfair.
"for you to listen," his voice mumbles in your mind and you scoff, shaking your head as the memory of his accent echoes in your mind.
"yeah well, you don't have the best ideas, now do you?"
"y/n.." he murmurs, his tone a gentle warning to you so you don't say something you'll regret. or do something, for that matter.
"wilbur," you copy his tone, mocking it almost before you groan, falling to sit on the ground.
"you know you can't do this, you know that," you can hear the strain in his voice, the way he draws it out and softens it just to reach out to you and make amends for it.
"but what else am I meant to do?" you want to scream at the top of your lungs, cry to him and bitch about the situation you're in. how you're continually denied what you want. you thought you proved yourself, you thought you proved that you could handle immortality. that you could handle him.
it's silent, not a sound is made around you or even echoed in your mind. you wondered if his methods of communication were a curse or a blessing. it felt more like a curse at the moment. it felt like a taunt to you, how powerless you felt down on earth, in morality. you felt so out of control, like a puppet. and maybe wilbur was the puppeteer, but who’s to say it wasn’t someone else? maybe he was just an illusion, a hallucination that controlled your motives and thoughts simply by the prospect of maybe having some hope to grasp onto. a nice, soft candle in the middle of a dark and empty room.
he was the light you couldn’t quite reach.
he finally speaks up, his tone rushed and worried, but his words keep you from second guessing it, “i have an idea.”
“what?” you mumble, nearly tripping over the single word.
“you want to stay with me, yes?” he sounds almost frustrated for a moment before sighing almost exasperated.
“yes, yes, that’s what i’ve been saying. you never listen-“
wilbur cuts you off, “i listen, i promise. okay? i listen to you, now, listen to me for a second, okay baby?”
you ponder for a moment before giving in, “fine.”
“i’ll let you come back, under a few conditions,” you wait a moment, giving him time to list his conditions but he doesn’t seem to budge on his own.
“and what are those?” you fold your arms over your chest, huffing as you imagine wilbur pinching the bridge of his nose and sighing at you.
“i’ll tell you when you get here, okay?” he pauses, sand surprisingly you can hear the hesitation almost as if he were there with you and not just speaking through your mind, “there’s a tree-“
“a tree? wow, so fancy,” your annoyance bubbling up at the way he wasn’t being direct.
he warns you again, a whispering of your name to keep you in line before he continues, “there’s a tree a few minutes in front of you, there will be lilliums around the base and a circle door in the middle. it’ll take you here, no need to do what you normally do, okay? please just, don’t do something stupid and get up here, okay?”
you take a moment before answering, wondering if you want to believe him or ignore him at the moment, “okay, fine.”
you wait a few minutes, making sure he doesn’t have anything more to say before standing up and beginning the walk over to the tree. it feels stupid, how hopeful you are and how confident you feel over walking to a damn tree as if it’ll fix your biggest qualm with the way your god’s world works. you stop short, maybe a good eight feet from the base of the tree, your eyes dancing around and staring at the lilly flowers lining the base and spreading over the roots. you play with the idea of turning around and walking back, abandoning him and any loyalty you had to him. but then you look back at the trunk before you and sigh, giving in and stepping back towards it. your fingers reach out to grasp the hook on the corner, pulling it back and crawling in, not without doubts of course but you aren’t sure what you have to lose.
you pull the door back to close it and turn around, darkness encompassing your whole being as you feel a sort of light feeling take over your senses. are you dreaming? it doesn’t feel like a dream, but it seems like one. are you real? is this real?
your thoughts shut off, cut like a guillotine, but the blade being the darkness and silence. you no longer felt anything but a void, and then you began to feel warm fabric, and then a whiff of cologne hit your nose and then you were finally able to open your eyes.
“i see you’re awake?” you peek up, rubbing your eyes as you take in your surroundings, eyes catching on the familiar figure of wilbur, sitting in a reading chair in the corner of his bedroom. you’ve been here before, you’ve slept in this bed but now it feels different. it’s a good different, but it isn’t the same.
“i am now,” you pause, tossing the covers over and off your legs as you sit up against the ornate headboard, gazing over at him as he meets your eyes and sets down his journal, “what happened?”
“i convinced myself that i could manage switching your role to immortal,” he sighs, moving his gaze to the floor as he chews his lip, mind reeling as he lists off all the rules he broke just to bring his love into his life.
“mm, was it paperwork that kept you from it?” you chuckle, much too happy at the moment to even think of how angry you were and still are at him.
“no,” he chuckles dryly, shaking his head, “it was.. more serious than that but that’s no talk for now. how are you feeling, love?” he stands from his chair, finding a spot on the edge of the bed by your feet and resting his hands on your legs.
“i couldn’t be more tired, what the hell happened? how did i get here?” you murmur, rubbing your eyes as you take note of the pulsing ache at your temples.
“i guided you through a dream, to get here, and once you reached this world, i switched some things around in your file,” he squeezes your calf, his eyes staring at the wall for a good minute before meeting your gaze.
“so that means…?”
“you’re immortal and no longer have any ties with your old world, you’re mine now, just the way you wanted,” he sighs, lifting your legs to lay over his lap as he reaches over and kisses your forehead. there’s a sort of calmness about him that you’ve yet to see until now. you never knew such peace could exist in him.
“i’ll answer any question you have.” you nod to him, acknowledging his offer but not knowing where to start,
you have too many questions to even verbalize, or let alone ask, and the growing headache isn’t helping either. so after a moment’s contemplation, you decide to let the piles questions take a rest while you enjoy your wilbur’s company.
you lean forward and kiss his cheek once, and you watch as a gentle rosiness floods the pale skin that he adorns and his lips curl up in a smile.
“how about we have a day to ourselves and celebrate?” you suggest, grabbing his hand to play with his fingers, chewing on your lip as you keep your eyes down.
“okay, as long as you promise to ask questions later?” he tilts your head up by your chin, a loving care in his eyes.
“promise,” you smile, kissing the tip of his nose before continuing and jumping off the bed, “now show me that pretty garden you have, yeah?”
he smiles, standing up and meeting you where you stand. he leans down, hands resting on your cheeks with giggles escaping his lips at your excitement, “may i kiss you first?”
“yes, sir you may,” your fingers wrap around his waist as he brings his lips to yours, smiling softly as your mouths move in sync. a moments pass before you both need air and you pull back, moving to tug on his hand, “now come on! show me the lilliums!”
he leads you out to the garden, smiling the whole way as he can’t help but to think how grateful he is that he broke a few rules and let heaven be you.
taglist; @lcvejoy @lillylvjy @ella-fella-bo-bella @lotusanonymouse @willgoldszn @whos-nicooo @zebonos
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goldenfigtree · 7 months
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Worst Day Ever
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Summary: You have the worst day ever and Leon comforts you
Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Fem Reader (no use of y/n)
Warnings: fluff
A/N: An idea I wrote instead of sleeping. Been noticing some headcanons saying Leon isn’t good with his words. Which I can somewhat see since he’s very much a man of very few words. But when he does say something he is very well spoken. And you see in RE4R and Infinite Darkness that he’s more than willing to comfort and encourage those around him. That one scene with Ashley was so sweet, I could talk about that one scene for hours like CMON HES A SWEETYPEA. So this is just a personal headcanon I wanted to write out. Also I couldn’t find any cutesy couple cuddling pictures, they all looked like something from 2013 and I hated them so just enjoy this picture of these cats cuddling idk. Okay rant over, hope you enjoy!
It was just one of those days where it felt like everything was against you. To start off the day, you woke up to red blood spotting your favorite pajama pants. Then, had to muscle through driving to work with the intense stabbing feeling in your uterus. And even better, you had to deal with an unsatisfied customer. An irrational, unsatisfied customer at that. It took everything within you not to find something to chuck at their head. Luckily the workday came to the end, however life decided to remind you that the day itself was yet to be over. Once you got home to prepare dinner, the one major ingredient you needed to make it was not in the pantry. Starving, exhausted, and still in pain. A groan that sounded similar to the growling of a bear escaped you. Your hands began sliding down against the skin of your face harshly. You didn’t even know it was possible to feel this much rage all at once. Hot tears began to leak from your eyelids as you leaned against the island counter in the kitchen, trying to breathe in for four seconds and out. A tip you happened to find online on your lunch break. However, your thoughts flicked and swished around in your mind like a flame as you did this calming exercise,
Inhale. 1 2 3 4
I hate it. I hate it all.
Exhale. 1 2 3 4
I hate myself for being this angry.
Inhale. 1 2 3 4
I hate him for not being here.
Exhale. 1 2 3 4
I hate his job.
Blinking open your eyes you still feel this ball of fire set in your chest. Sitting upon your chest, it burned like heartburn as your thoughts wondered to your boyfriend. Your boyfriend who knew exactly how to calm you on days like this. Your boyfriend who worked so well with under pressure situations given his work. Your boyfriend who was off saving the world when you needed saving right now. You hated it. You hated sharing him with the world.
A partner isn’t for sharing, that’s literally the whole point of it isn’t it?
With a sharp exhale, your anger begins to simmer from the sudden sadness that began to drench it, taking over. Tears still streaming down your face, you give up on dinner and leave the mess for when you were feeling up to it. Walking over to the bed, you effortlessly lean over and let yourself fall on the mattress, face met with the plush material, your feet dangling off the edge. The sniffling now transcending to soft, quiet sobs. This was quite possibly the worst day ever. Maybe it was the hormones talking but you didn’t care, it felt like the worst day ever therefore it was the worst day ever. Eventually, your crying tires you out enough to rest your eyes. By the time you opened them it was already night. Slowly propping yourself up, you drowsily look around and swore you were dreaming when a familiar silhouette was laying next to you, a small smile on his lips,
“Hey” he says quietly. He didn’t know how much your presence alone meant to you especially on a day like this. Your bottom lip began to tremble and your eyes leaked tears down your face, which alarmed Leon greatly. Sitting up he creases his eyebrows and grabs your hand to guide you closer to him,
“Hey, what’s wrong?” He asks, his blue eyes fixated on your face. You say nothing, laying beside him, you hide your face into his chest and sniffle. All that was wrong about this day came rushing through your mind by him asking that question alone. The tears pooled into the fabric of his navy blue t shirt. The sight of you so upset was beginning to upset him. He hated seeing you cry. Wrapping his arms around you, he feels you hold him tighter. Placing a long, meaningful peck on your forehead, he then rests his head atop your head.
“Bad day?” he presses. You only nod into his shirt, hiccuping now, making your body jolt slightly. He sighs, pulling slightly away to look at your red-rimmed eyes, “Do you want to talk about it now or later?” He asks carefully.
“Later” you whisper, scrunching your nose with a sniffle. Leon purses his lips, his mind racing with ideas of how to cheer you up.
“Anything I can do?” He can’t help but ask. He’s so used to having solutions for things, it was taking him a while to realize that sometimes solutions aren’t as comforting as validation. With a sputtering chuckle you tuck your face into the crook of his neck,
“Just be here, please”
“I’m right here, always” closing his eyes, he pulls you closer and tighter into his embrace, his thumbs caressing your back and shoulder. You missed his scent, his warmth, his voice. Him being there right now was the perfect antidote for this hellish day. This time, with warmth surrounding you, you drift off to sleep almost immediately, peacefully.
Once you had woken up, you noticed that those strong arms that held you before were absent.
Was it all a dream?
The clatter of dishes in the far distance told you otherwise. Unless, given your luck, you were being robbed in broad daylight. Stretching your limbs and cracking your back, as you often did every morning, you head to the kitchen where you find Leon is cleaning up the mess of last nights -supposed to be- dinner. Being a secret agent, he sensed your presence immediately and turned his head to the side to look at you as he placed the ingredients in the pantry,
“You’re awake” with your hand on your chest, you let out a sigh of relief at the sight of him.
“You’re real” he chuckles and closes the pantry door and turns to face you,
“Feeling better?”
“Now that you’re here” you say genuinely, scratching your bed head while walking toward him.
“Miss me?” You let out a tired noise as you wrap your arms around him,
“More than you know” you croak, resting your chin on his chest as you looked up at him, “Miss me?”
“Like crazy” he says swaying the both of you, his hands clasped together on your back, “ready to talk now?”
You grimace and suddenly the lines along the fabric of his shirt looked very interesting. Clearing his throat he teasingly raises an eyebrow, pointing a finger up to his eyes,
“My eyes are up here” he retorts making your snort and roll your eyes,
“Whatever” you scoff, pulling away with a smirk along your lips as you walk off to start brewing your morning coffee.
“No witty remark?” He acknowledges, his once cheesy proud smile now a frown as his eyebrows crease in concern,
“Buffering”
“Still upset?” he watches your shoulders lift and drop as you sigh and glance back at him,
“I just want to forget yesterday” you mutter. Looking over you notice Leon leaning against the counter next to you to get in your vision,
“You don’t have to tough it out for me, you know” he says, his voice suddenly much softer, “I can take it”
You couldn’t deny that sweet and comforting softness in his voice. Much less the puppy-eyed look he was giving you.
“I know, I’ll tell you in a minute. Let me just get my dose of caffeine in” you assure,
“Yes ma’am” he replies, his tone much more satisfied and proud. Once you made yours and his cup of coffee, the two of you sat at your coffee table, the sun now hung high in the sky. You start from the morning to the night, explaining every infuriating detail about yesterday. But as you explained it to him you started to feel almost irrational for getting so upset over it all and chuckled afterward,
“This all must seem so small compared to what you have to deal with. I’m sorry” Squeezing your hand, he immediately shakes his head,
“Don’t be sorry. Just because I deal with extreme situations doesn’t make yours less important” he calmly explains, “I’m the one who’s sorry, I wish I could have gotten here sooner”
Intertwining your fingers, you shake your head, a content smile on your lips,
“Don’t be, you came just in time” returning your smile he squeezes your hand again,
“Better?”
“Better”
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hqbaby · 7 months
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twenty-nine — fuck it
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fuck ur instincts — suna x reader & atsumu x reader
you and suna are just fooling around—so why does he care so much when you start falling in love with someone else?
previous — masterlist — next
word count. 1.3k content. swearing, mentions of violence
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“Ya have to eat,” Osamu says, pushing the plate towards his brother. “I’m so close to telling Ma.”
“Don’t tell Ma, ya snitch!”
“Then eat my damn food!”
“Fine!”
Atsumu begrudgingly shoves the spoon in his mouth, glaring at his brother as he chews.
“So? Whaddya think?”
“It’s fine.”
“Can’t hear ya.”
“It’s good.”
“Atta boy.”
Osamu watches as his brother shoves spoonful after spoonful into his mouth, staring off into space from his seat across the kitchen table. They never tell each other—because that would mean breaking the bro code—but they care about each other more than anything in the world. 
He knows that he would stop a bullet for his brother, no questions asked. It makes him feel useless knowing that this particular bullet Atsumu’s dealing with right now isn’t something he can take, that he has to watch his twin suffer this mess alone.
“Have ya talked to her?” he asks.
Atsumu shakes his head. “Wouldn’t know what to say,” he says. “I was an ass the last time we spoke.”
“She was also a bit of an ass,” Osamu points out.
A glare. “Don’t say that.”
Hands up in defense. “Just saying.”
The blond twin pushes his plate away, all clean. “Have ya spoken to him?”
“Yer mortal enemy?” Osamu quips. “Nah, I haven’t had the chance to.”
Atsumu chews on his bottom lip. It’s been a few days since you last spoke, a few days since he and Suna fought in the gym. They started taking turns going to training after the rest of the team decided it would be better if they both cooled off for a while. He feels completely isolated—both the love of his life and his highschool friend suddenly gone in an instant. And he feels like it’s all his fault.
When he first found out about you and Suna, he had no idea what to do. It was one thing knowing that you’d kept it from him, it was another thing wondering why you’d kept it at all.
He got that you’d been hurt, deeply at that, and all his love wouldn’t fix what had been broken. But it bothered him more than he thought it would knowing that you hadn’t so much as mentioned a thing to him. If Suna hadn’t told him, he might never have known.
Did you love Suna too? Did his feelings change things between the two of you? Were they enough to make you leave Atsumu?
He’s known for a while now that he would give you anything, do anything for you. You didn’t just knock down the walls in his head, you’d built yourself a room, made yourself a bed. You’re everything to him, and there’s nothing he wouldn’t do for you.
That’s why he knows, no matter what he was feeling, what he did was selfish. He wasn’t doing it for you, he was doing it for himself. 
So he could keep you—when he hadn’t even given you the chance to stay.
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“Hold on,” Suna groans, putting a shirt on as he walks to the front door.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
“I’m coming!” he calls out, voice still thick with sleep. “Just hold on a second for fuck’s sake.”
He turns the knob. Opens the door. Finds Atsumu on the other side.
“Nope.”
He moves to close the door again.
“Wait!” The other boy jams his foot between the frame and the door. “Come on, man, I just wanna talk.”
“With your fist?” Suna asks. “Because we already tried that last time. DIdn’t work out that well.”
He hears a sigh on the other side of the door. “Please.”
Fuck it.
He swings the door open and turns to walk to the kitchen, assuming Atsumu will follow after him. He does of course. Suna plops onto a stool at the kitchen counter and eyes the other boy as he awkwardly sits down beside him.
“It’s like four in the morning,” he says.
Atsumu smiles sheepishly. There’s still a hint of a bruise around his eye. “I know,” he says. “Couldn’t sleep.”
“Sure. Thinking big thoughts?”
“Somethin’ like that.”
Suna sighs, slumping onto the counter lazily and turning his head sideways to watch his friend squirm. “What?”
Atsumu’s eyes dart skittishly across the room. “I have somethin’ to say.”
“Uh-uh?”
“And just… listen.”
He narrows his eyes but nods. “Okay.”
The blond looks down at his hands as he plays with the string of his hoodie. “I’m gonna back off.”
Suna frowns. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m gonna back off,” Atsumu repeats. “I… shouldn’t have done what I did. Ya should’ve been able to tell her. She-she should’ve known.”
“What?” He can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Are you high?”
He gets an eye roll in response. “I just want her to be happy,” he says, and Suna can tell it hurts him more than he wants to let on. “And, if that’s not with me…”
“You’re giving up?” Suna asks in disbelief. “Just like that?”
Atsumu frowns at him. “I’m not giving up,” he says. “I’m just… givin’ her the choice. The one I should’ve given her when I found out about how ya felt about her.”
“But why?”
Atsumu’s face lights up, his lips curling into a smile. He looks absolutely exhausted and completely ragged, his hair’s a mess and the bags under his eyes are deep and dark. He’s never looked this terrible in his life—but he’s smiling, beaming even.
"Because I love her," he says. "Ya do what ya need to do for the people ya love.”
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You lie in bed, staring up at the ceiling, dreading the day that’s only just begun. The past few days have taken a bigger toll on you that you thought they would. You’ve been busying yourself with everything you can—school, training, even helping Ayame out, being with her as she manages all the sudden attention and the god-awful rumors.
Things have died down, which is probably a blessing to everyone else, but not for you. Because now, you have to deal with your feelings. Now, you have to try and sift through the storm in your head.
“You’re up early,” Kiyoko says as she slips into the room holding two cups of coffee. She places one on the floor beside your bed and sips at hers. “You okay?”
“People keep asking me that, you’d think I was dying.” You smile, grabbing your coffee and holding it in your hands. “Thanks.”
She nods, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I mean, I do owe you money so it’s not necessarily free.”
You chuckle. “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”
She sits down on her bed across from yours and stretches her legs out. “What are your plans for today?”
“Oh, you know,” you say, “world domination. The usual.”
“Right. How could I forget?”
You pick at a scab on your leg. You don’t even know where you got it from, but it’s been there for days. “I need to talk to him,” you murmur. “I need to apologize.”
Kiyoko makes a face. “Are you ready for that though?”
You shake your head. “No,” you tell her. “But I have to do it. I was a total ass. He didn’t deserve that.”
She watches you from across the room and reluctantly nods. “Okay,” she says. “Do you need anything? A hug? A pint of ice cream?”
“That cute tennis skirt of yours might do the trick,” you tease, smiling at her mischievously.
She blinks at you. “That’s your skirt.”
“What?”
“Yeah.” Kiyoko starts to laugh. “You bought it like a week ago.”
“No way.”
“Yes way.”
“So why do you keep wearing it then?”
“Because you put it in my drawer!”
Ping.
You look at the phone that lights up on the bed beside her. “Is that mine?”
She nods, tossing the device at you. “Why was it on my bed?”
“I dunno,” you say, turning it on.
Fuck.
suna: can we talk?
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