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hazelfoureyes · 21 hours

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A Doe in Fall (part 7)

⟢HumanAlastor x FemaleBurlesquerReader - A Doe in Fall

Part 1 - Pretty in Red smut💦 Part 2 - Liar smut💦 Part 3 - A Tragedy smut💦 Part 4 - Enough Part 5 - Too Much Part 6 - Learning smut💦 Part 7 - Recognition smut💦

Part 7 Recognition

It was time to start again. Alastor couldn't forget what his mother had wanted, even if she didn't ask it of him directly. And while he finds his comfort again in killing, Detective Brady finds a lead.

「Warnings/Promises: Human Alastor x Fem Burlesquer reader, smut, reader's thighs as ear muffs, referencing cruel racists in the early 20th century south, reference to marital violence, pussy eaten, p in v sex, no creampie BOO, bad dancing, Alastor's southern accent, Alastor's mother, gossip, murder, greed , two idiots pretending they aren't madly in love, poor family planning, lots of 1920's slang with notes for your ease」

I think I fixed the broken tag list!

....it's been over a month. Here's nearly 9000 words of our favorite idiots. I feel weird labeling this smut now as...we are...kinda past the smut point and just making sweet sweet love. lol ugh gross. thank you to everyone whose offered help, donated, and shared the word about my mom! It’s been an immense help and has made her a little emotional (in a good way) <Florida stole my moms teeth— explanation and donation link> unrelated, anyone want some RadioDust?

Minors…. Minors. My inbox counts as interacting when you’re literally in there requesting smut. I know your bio has no age but baby honey darling I can tell by your writing. 🔞 Do Not Interact 🏠🚗

A development he knew was coming even if no one else believed him. A drug addict with debts to the local crime syndicates disappearing was neither suspicious nor a mystery. Everyone was confident it was obvious Tommy was at the bottom of Lake Pontchartrain or halfway to California.

But not to him, not for Detective Brady. He had been on the beat for the better part of a year, convinced there was a connection between some of the disappearances in town.

No one wanted to hear it though, most people didn’t even care the people were missing. Only the occasional wife, concerned how she would keep a roof over her head and food in her kid’s bellies with the man of the house gone. But other than that, no tears or chest beating for the missing men and women.

Which made him confident there were countless more unreported cases. Just because no one missed them, a crime is a crime.

But, no bodies, no blood, no crime scenes… he looked like he had lost the fucking plot to his colleagues.

The city didn’t want the bad press, not to mention the fact there was no actual crime to be reported. Someone up and left down? Okay, he was a wife beater? Probably left with his mistress. The cruel den mother of the home for unwanted kids? Her assistant takes the lead and she moves onto a new town to menace. Probably running from the people angry with her.

But he finally had something. Tommy was pimping out dancers, and even laid hands on one. Surely there was a man looking for revenge for that. Can’t knock around a man’s woman and have it go unanswered.

So he tried again to find the woman whose only name he knew was a moniker. Autumn Hind.

Every time Brady came to the theater, another excuse. You left early. You were on the roof smoking—- oh, you slipped out the back. Weekends were your off days, so that was useless.

“You’re obsessed.” Detective Freeman threw an eraser he’d picked off his pencil at Brady. He had seen the man devolve slowly over the past couple months.

“Thanks.” Brady was staring at his notes.

“Not a compliment, Kenny. Shit happens, people leave town. You’re acting like a handful of no shows are some conspiracy.” Freeman came to stand behind Brady, leaning over to read his notes, “How can you even read that chicken scratch?”

He clapped the notebook shut, “Every report was a person less than liked. What are the chances they all leave town in the middle of the night, last seen in the same general area?”

Freeman patted his shoulder, “Did you just ask me why a bunch of assholes,” he stood up and made a show of stretching out tired muscles, “who liked illegal hooch* and jazz with plenty of enemies disappeared?” (*booze)

Brady slapped his desk, “There! You said it! They had enemies. But what— what if they had one enemy in common. A bar manager or — or a,” he was still looking for that link.

“Kenny, the boogeyman isn’t roaming New Orleans killing people. If the higher ups don’t care, if the families don’t care, it doesn’t matter. Let it go.”

The sleep deprived detective sunk into his wooden chair, swiveling side to side anxiously, “Tommy’s mother cares.”

“Yeah well mom’s are famously bad judges of character.” Slipping on his jacket, he shot a worried look to his partner, “Ya gonna go home? Janet’s probably a mess. You’ve been keeping late hours.”

“Nah not yet. I gotta get to the theater before this dame goes ghost on me again.”

“Yikes, still? You’ve been chasing her for a while.” He was making a slow inching walk to the door.

“It’d be easier if I had some support. I gotta do this on my own time.” A deep sigh, well past the point of hiding his frustration with his colleagues and bosses. Freeman looked over the wrinkled shirt and wilted tie, evidence of a man losing his grip.

“Welp, good luck buddy. Hope you get to the bottom of whatever this is.” He gestured at the messy desk and disheveled man, “See ya tomorrow.”

Brady waved without looking up. His eyes were staring into the black leather of his notepad. Tommy was the only recent assumed victim with any real suspicion. The woman whose husband disappeared after going to see a show? Only enemy to him was her, and she wasn’t strong enough to take him down. Deadend.

Most recent, nice young man from up north. Went out for a good time, hoping to catch a little lady for some stress relief, according to his coworkers. Never showed up at work the next day. No one had a bad word to say about the man. Making him an outlier, but still. He was young, strong, soft spoken. Not an enemy in sight but no family to worry, either. Deadend.

But Tommy. Someone cared he was gone. He was in the jazz game, the drug dens, the illegal drink business, and had a heavy hand. He was the perfect bad man, right?

He looked across his desk. Bad men. The occasional unsavory woman. Maybe it was just their time. They pissed off the wrong people.

Or the wrong person.

Someone who worked downtown, someone into dance and drink, someone with nights free to do his work. Maybe a hired gun? No, some of these people didn’t have the money for that.

Plus, one person and so many missing? That would be unheard of, it’d be some kind of record for Louisiana.

A record Brady could claim.

When he entered the theater James, the manager who replaced Tommy, noticeably rolled his eyes, getting in front of the man. “It’s real bad for business to have a cop in here all the damn time. Come on, if you’re not here for a raid then could you be a little less obvious.”

Brady looked past him, “What do you mean?”

“You’re— what is it? What can I do for you?”

“Here again for Miss Autumn. Care to give her real name yet?”

“No can do. Ain’t my business to tell. She’s finished her set, asked to head home early.” Brady turned and kicked a chair over, a large man approaching behind the manager before seeing the hip badge and backing up. “Nah we’re not doing that. We’ve told her you’ve come by but she’s a busy lady. Several gigs here and there. Enough, you’re harassing the dancers now.”

With a snap, Brady had his finger in the manager’s face, “Whatcha gonna do? Call the cops?”

“She. Isn’t. Here. What the fuck do you want? For me to tie her up and bring her to your station?”

That’d be ideal.

A month, nearly. Coming once or twice a week to try and speak to you but every time he missed you. He was going to snap if he heard one more time you were gone. Maybe everyone was in on it. Maybe you werenin the back right now laughing at him.

Brady scanned the room, “Where’s she live?”

“How the fuck would I know— please, leave.” James gestured to the doors.

He lifted his badge up, waving it at the patrons seated closest to him, “Yall know it’s still illegal to partake-,”

“Jesus! Enough!” The manager pushed him back, flashing an apologetic smile to the guests, “She moonlights Sundays at The Dime near the park on 5th, singing for a friend. That’s all I got about her life off stage. Will you fucking go?”

The detective perked up, “See, was that so hard?”

Finally, he could feel his fingers grasp the shifting shadow that was his only lead.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“I never said sorry.”

You turned your head, not expecting him to say something serious. Waiting, he didn’t add explanation. Sorry? What had he done… ran out of milk? Forgot to bring in the towels before it rained last week? A quick search of your memory yielded nothing.

“For what?”

He was staring off in front of him. “For putting you in danger before. In the park. I am sincerely sorry.”

You’d somehow almost forgotten. It’d been weeks. Every bad feeling that night had brought you had been carried away by good morning kisses and gentle words before sleep. Nearly every night was spent in his bed, Alastor dropping you off at your apartment when he went downtown for work. The incident in the park was a different lifetime already.

Had he really put you in danger? Or had you rushed into the danger of his hobby to feel closer to him?

“I put myself in that situation. You didn't throw me at that guy. I don’t do a damn thing I don’t want to do. You should have learned that by now.”

Tough act for a woman who jumped up to pour some man’s coffee.

You shook your head, you had to stop equating doting on Alastor as a show of weakness. It wasn’t. Even if admitting that meant admitting you were wrong.

But he had put you in danger’s way, he knew it. “No, you wouldn’t have ever been in that situation if it wasn’t for me.”

Your laughter bounced off the car windows, “Alastor, you met me getting choked to death by a strange man. People will always make dangerous situations for women to be in. Don’t act like you’re special.” A sly smile to ease his anxious heart. “I’d rather be in danger for you than just because I’m a woman. If it’s gonna happen anyway, might as well be worth something.”

His hand slipped onto your thigh, expression softening before his own smile grew again, “Don’t lie to my face so easily. I am very special, we can all agree.”

You looked around, the two of you alone in his car on a side street, “All? You know the trunk is still empty, right?”

“Oh, is that so? You’re quite dangerous yourself, I nearly forgot why we were here.” He patted his pockets to make sure he had what he needed. “When I give you a wave, back up to me, okay? Don’t leave the car. Just drive off if-,”

You kissed his cheek, “Shut it. Not a chance. Go give em hell, baby.”

Alastor crumpled against his steering wheel momentarily, your words cutting his heart open in a most wonderful way. He could never have predicted getting kisses before beginning his dark work. What had he done to deserve this? Perhaps proof someone in hell was in full support of his actions. Straightening his back and checking his hair and glasses in the mirror, he flashed you a smile before slipping out of the car.

When Alastor said he was ready to begin killing again, you were a mix of excited and scared. Excited for normalcy to return but scared of the dangers presented there in. You’d been dodging the blue eyed detective for a while already, and moving forward meant possibly making mistakes he could grab a hold of. Not mentioning the risk of someone hurting Alastor again…but for your part in everything, you and Alastor found a compromise.

A deal had been made. You’d stay in the car and bring it to him when he was done. He had asked you flee if something went wrong but you both knew that wasn’t going to happen. Crawling into the driver’s seat, you tried to remember what he had taught you. How to get it started up, how to make it go backwards. How to make it go, in general. You’d never driven a car. Well, not until Alastor insisted on teaching you. Driving up and down the long stretch of road he lived on, Alastor white knuckling the door handle as you jerked the car forward with every failed shift. You had started on his land, but he feared for his home's safety with you behind the wheel.

Your hands slipped down the steeling wheel, big and round. Your mother would’ve had a hoot had she seen you in the driver’s seat. Clearing your throat, you leaned into the back of the car and double checked the canvas was properly secured.

Another man tonight. The few times you’d both gone out for leisure, having preferred to spend time alone at home, Alastor had gotten gossip that piqued his interest.

You remembered the way the woman’s hand touched his arm when she leaned in. “You didn’t hear it from me but it’s best to avoid French Study on Thursdays. Real piece of work slipping something in drinks and robbing people.” He reported what she had said back to you. It’d panicked you, realizing you were closer to being on Alastor’s list than you’d realized.

“No, the issue isn’t the stealin’. It’s what he does with the people with,” he had been delicate as he said it, taking another long sip of whiskey, “other things of value. And the fact this man has no need to steal. It’s ridiculous! His family has been land ownin’ and well off for generations.” Alastor was always impassioned when discussing the things he hated, even when slipping into drunkenness. His accent came through when he had too much to drink, his real accent. The accent his mother had. “You robbed men for power balance, for their assumptions you were easy to manipulate to begin with. He? Uh, Him? He’s just a piece of shit. He thinks he’s better than everyone else. And no one would report him ‘cause his family name.”

His drink spilled a little, when you had offered to clean it he just slipped the button up off. He lost his usual classy air as the bottle emptied. Which you actually liked.

The benefits of drinking on his back porch was no need to worry about decorum. Music was softly spilling from the open window behind you, Alastor’s prized record cabinet spinning the newest presses.

“It’s like there’s a little bug under my skin,” he wiggled his fingers over his sternum, “It’s gonna dig into my bones if I don’t cut it out.”

Despite your own drunkenness, you nodded and followed along, “So, ya gonna kill ‘em?”

Alastor pouted, making you snort, “I don’t want to think about that right now.” He enunciated every word clearly in his practiced and professional voice.

You’d ended the evening playfully arguing the merits of prohibition on the jazz scene and watching Alastor dance around the wrap around porch. But the conversation hadn’t ended for him.

Little hints he was still focused on it popped up over the following week. Alastor randomly asking you how it felt to be drugged, did you wake up in pain? Embarrassed? Scared? You caught him staring at the greenhouse from the window one morning, lost in thought. Before he had finally said he wanted to go out again, you understanding what that meant, you’d seen him turning a dinner knife over and over in his hand impatiently.

And now here you were. In the car beside a park late Thursday, Alastor having done some scouting while you’d finished up early at the theater.

It took hours. Which was good, it meant Alastor wasn’t rushing. He liked the stalking aspect of killing, of watching someone from across a room knowing exactly how their night would end. And as that man whose name would soon be buried with him alternated smiling and barking orders at staff, Alastor felt his stomach flutter. Like watching a slab of meat slowly turn over the fire. The crueler he was, the worse he acted, the more Alastor found his fingers tapping on the bar with anticipation. Perfect. Damn yourself more. No fake smiles or double faces, no, people like him didn’t even try to play the game others were forced into. Born with money and land already theirs, they didn’t even know the rules.

But Alastor did. Alastor mastered them at the tender age of 14. When he realized his father’s features were a shield. His mother’s lessons on manners and charm his weapons. The first time he was in mixed company, when someone leaned in and whispered a cruel “prank” he had planned for a young dark skinned woman on the other side of the room, he understood. They pulled back and smiled at him, and he managed to muster one of his own. Just smile, they’d take it to mean whatever they wanted it to mean because they thought he was of the same mindset. They assumed it. Like so many other things people would assume about him as he grew.

When he told his mother the story after getting home, she shook her head. When he had asked her what he should have done, she set down her book.

“Well, I’d love to say you should have stood up for her. But I’d also like to have my son above ground.”

He asked her why she couldn’t have both.

“Sweetheart, we don’t usually get the choice to do either, let alone both.”

He offered a solution, after a moment of thinking, “I shoulda buried him first then.”

“Wouldn’t it be nice if that was how the world worked?” She returned to her book, “If God just struck em down dead as soon as they hurt people. Better yet, before.”

It would be nice. It was nice. Because Alastor couldn’t wait for God to make the world his mother mentioned. He grinned ear to ear, gloves a second skin, as the man crawled backwards in the grass like an animal cornered. His heart was pounding in his ears. Where to cut first? The gut, his family fat and soft from the money they made off the labor of others? The pale neck of a man who never spent a day outside, instead indoors drugging strangers for sport? The chest covered in a fine cotton shirt he didn’t appreciate?

He wished he had many arms, as many as he could imagine, to slash and tear in tandem.

“What do you want? Money?” the animal asked him.

Alastor shook his head no. No, he didn’t want money.

“Do you know who I am?”

Alastor nodded. “That is precisely why I am here.”

Would he beg? Cry? Bargain? Experience told him it’d be the latter.

“Alright well, if you know who I am you know you’re making a mistake. Here.” The man opened his wallet and pulled out a few greenbacks, holding them out for Alastor. Alastor’s smile softened slightly, remembering tossing you a wallet once before.

He reached down with his left hand to take the money, but instead grabbed the man’s wrist. Swiftly, quicker than the man could process, he took the knife tucked into his belt behind his vest and stabbed the man in the stomach.

Staring into his eyes, he could see his own image looking back at him. Smiling.

Alastor grabbed your face with both wrists, hands bloody and one still holding the knife, and kissed you when he’d flagged you down.

“Is this for bringing the car around without running you over?” Your eyes glanced at the knife beside your head. He apologized, tossing it into the trunk.

“No, just happy to see you.” A mischievous grin that made your knees weak, his body shimmied closer until he was pressed against you, stealing another kiss. His arms stretched out to keep from bloodying you. Your fingers slid up his cheeks to return the kiss. “Thank you, dear.”

When you returned home, to his home, that is, you took to task bringing in the laundry he’d left on the line and putting away the things still on the counters from breakfast. You couldn’t resist going to the second floor room and looking down into the greenhouse. You couldn’t see perfectly well, but you could see nonetheless. Alastor didn’t want you in the greenhouse yet when he was working. He said it was the ugliest parts, the kind that would sure give you nightmares or rob you of your appetite.

Considerate. But, it only made you more curious. Would you be sick if you saw? Would you never eat meat again?

What would you do if you didn’t have any reaction at all?

You watched Alastor leave the greenhouse and lock the door behind him, so you hopped down the stairs to meet him in the hall beside the kitchen.

He’d been sweating, shirt open to reveal a thin white undershirt, and under his arm was a canvas roll. He lifted it up, “Tools. Rinsed them off but I’d like to dry them under the electric lights.” You grabbed the aprons from the wall hooks, Alastor letting you slip it over his head and tie it for him. “Why so tight?”

“I like the way it makes your waist look.” You’d seen him wear it when making biscuits. It made his shape so clear. It reminded you of watching water drip down his sides and roll off his hips in the shower.

He beamed, “I’m listening. What exactly do you like about my waist?” Sharp brows raised as that friendly tongue peeked out at you.

“Hush.” You cooed.

You stood on the long side of the table, him at the short, and took turns wiping the tools dry and checking the other’s work.

As he grabbed each one he would tell you what he used it for. Holding up the garden shears and explaining the point along the blade that had the strongest force. The advantage of curved pruning blades when used on a human body. His eyes were gleaming as he spoke, looking so lovingly at each item like it was a loyal pet.

He finally noticed you were grinning and chuckling softly, so he dropped his smile for dramatic effect, “What? What’s so funny?”

Shaking your head, you set down the next item for him to inspect, “Nothing. You’re just so cute when you’re talking about your passions. Your face lights up from the inside out.”

His breath hitched, smile actually lost as he processed every syllable. Your turn now to notice him staring as you looked up from your work. You recognized that look though, the wide eyes and serious lips. The air of the kitchen felt like the atmosphere before a thunderstorm rolled in.

Alastor set the tools back onto the canvas one by one and carried them to the counter. Before returning he picked up a small knife and set it near the edge of the table.

“Come here.” He nodded his head to space in front of him. The way he said it, that tone, made your heart begin to skip beats.

You slid between him and the table, Alastor lifting you up with a startling ease and setting you onto cool wood. Kicking your legs a little, you set nervous hands onto your lap. You wanted to touch him. To pull him by the apron straps into you.

“How do you always say the right things?” He closed the distance between you, one hand on your neck while his mouth came to your ear. “The things I didn’t know I wanted to hear?”

Swimming. Your mind was swimming. “Why is your idea of right the same as my idea of the truth?” You could feel the grin. Sighing into your ear, down your neck, his hands grabbed your hips and pulled you off the table enough to press your core into his clothed erection. Even through his pants and the apron, you could feel him clearly. When did he get so hard? You always wondered in those moments if it was the topic of discussion. Or the knives. Or your need. Biting your lip wasn’t a thought out action, but Alastor loved to see it. Rolling his hips into you in response.

“Wanna go upstairs?” you asked.

He shook his head, slipping off his glasses.

“Oh no, don’t even wanna see me?” You teased, but firm hands held you tighter to him in response.

“I won’t be letting you get far enough away from me for that to be a problem.”

When he leaned down and his lips so very gently pressed into yours, you could feel it. That missing something from before. It was in the air, it was rolling off of his body and dampening your senses. A desire, a drive that you felt that first time you had sex with him in that apartment above the theater. A motivation that was lacking last time in his bed.

His eyes were staring down into yours, waiting for your response. Eagerly you replied by chasing his mouth with yours. A chain of kisses as you tried to ever remember enjoying kissing another person as much as him.

Not a single soul. Why did it feel like this was all you ever needed? Eyes closed and lips on lips, hands in his hair, it felt like you’d been holding your breath all of your life. His body on yours was a gasp of air.

For Alastor, he couldn’t even think of breathing when around you. Let alone when your mouth was on him. Every time you touched him all he could think about was the word ‘affection’.

So when your tongue swiped up his lips, he moaned as he opened for you. Not because he was new to kissing someone with so much lust. He’d grown accustomed to the things you did to him. No, because you were a fever that had taken hold of him and your kiss the medicine that soothed his delirium.

He wondered, was that why people called it ‘love sick’?

“You really like me, don’t you?” He asked, nose sliding up your jaw.

An opportunity presented to you. A chance to spill over the edges.

You pushed it away, legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him closer.

“Something like that, yeah.”

His hands pressed flat against the table to balance the deep roll of his hips against you. One of your own fell behind you to keep from falling backwards, the other flung over his shoulder. When you moaned into his cheek he captured the sound with his mouth and slipped his tongue back into you.

You liked him. He’d known people to love and not like their partner an ounce, but the way you appreciated his quirks made his heart sing in its brittle cage. You never ceased to see him. The issue with always putting on a show is people tend to be disappointed when the actors become human again. But you never met his persona. He was knife wielding, bloodlusting Alastor from the first word. So when he was himself, you recognized him clearly. Because he was all you ever knew.

And you liked him

You appreciated him.

He dared to think maybe he could inspire more from you. A thought that made him twitch below the belt.

Closer. He needed you closer. He needed you so near to him that he’d never forget the feeling of being wanted. It’d be imprinted on his chest and his arms and his lips.

Impatient hands slipping up your sides, along your neck, down your chest. His greedy mouth suddenly understanding the same greed he once marveled at in your own kisses. Hot tongue sliding over yours, delving deeper into you with every return.

When his hands seemed to come to an agreement, they yanked you forward again. You’d fall off ass-first if he pulled you any further.

You watched with only slight horror has he grabbed the small knife and hiked up your dress in tandem. A gulp, worried the other shoe had finally dropped on a too-good situation.

“Are you particularly attached to these panties?” His eyes were looking up and over his glasses.

“No?” Did you really need panties, you wondered. Ever? Girdles we’re falling out of fashion perhaps you’d all be naked again soon enough. Maybe you two could start another Eden. A pomegranate’s juice the new red staining his skin.

Not even a tremble, his hands lifted each side and sliced them free.

“Oh?” You didn’t have a real question in mind when he tucked the panties into his back pocket. Just a need to express you saw it and didn’t understand it.

Alastor took your hand and pressed it against his hardened length, eyes locked onto yours with a sharpness to them. But when your hand took hold of him and squeezed, everything softened in his features. Funny how where one area grew stiff another melted.

He rolled his eyes closed as you finally undid his belt and pants. A struggle you didn’t see, Alastor trying to keep from pouncing on you like a horny virgin. He didn’t want to rut into you, he didn’t need the pleasure. He needed something he couldn’t see or explain. He just knew you held it behind your teeth.

When your skin pressed into his and you both moaned together he was sure you were the same. One person, split into insufficient parts. Finally lined up flush in place.

When you circled your hips against his aching cock, he wondered what you were chasing after. Was it the pleasure? He’d give it to you in spades.

He was on his knees with his face between your legs before you could close your thighs in surprise.

You needed both hands now to keep from falling back onto the table. “Alastor,” a whine.

He knew better than to talk with his mouth full, so he let two fingers work their way into you with shallow thrusts. Easing you open for him.

“Yes?” His eyes didn’t leave his fingers, glistening under the kitchen light. You hadn't thought much ahead past his name, once his fingers were in you and curling up to find your spongy and soft bundle of nerves your mind had gone empty.

“We can just fuck, if you’re horny.” You watched him watching himself.

“Where’s the fun in that?” His mouth returned to your mound, broad tongue forming a point and finding your clit.

A lazy moving tongue would be frustrating if not for his fingers punishing your g-spot. Consistency was key, and his hand was focused and skilled.

Suddenly you remembered the piano in the sitting room. That’s where you knew that movement from. That clearly practiced muscle memory.

Alastor felt confident everywhere but rarely did he feel comfortable. When your thighs came together and squeezed him at the ears, he felt positively cozy. Would you be so kind as to be his ear muffs come winter? He’d have to remember to ask when his mouth was free. How many cold nights he could now rest assured he would have warmth just a little dive of his head away.

Lowering his mouth, nose buried in your muff, he wriggled his tongue in with his fingers. Not enough, rarely was anything enough any more. He stilled his hand and prodded at your sensitive walls with that intrusive tongue, relishing the little movements you made in response. Taking his digits out entirely, he buried his wet muscle as deeply as he could reach.

The huffs of exhales you were making triggered a moan from him that you felt through your skin. His enjoyment was tripling your pleasure.

Goosebumps ran up your arms at the combine sensations of his moaning and prodding.

When his lips and tongue returned to their uneven teasing of your clit, three fingers now swiping past your inner spot with every thrust, your hands came to his head. Fingers slipping through his hair and gripping every time your body shook. Encouragement, the more you tugged the surer he was he was doing the right things.

And oh, he was. You said the right things but Alastor always seemed to act on them. Your senses lodged themselves between the even stroking of your g-spot and the unpredictable movements of his tongue. One kept the pressure rising as your orgasm climbed, the other pushed you along jolt by jolt.

Curious thing. That night in the park he didn’t have much reaction to your enjoyment, but he found himself not fully softening in his lap as he continued. Normally, unless still physically stimulated or the rare time you stirred something in him, he wasn’t very… battle ready.

But the feeling of you pulling him in by the head, fingers in his hair and thighs at his cheeks; this was different than the others. He was sure now it wasn’t just physical pleasure you wanted. His pride said it was more.

Dozens of times before— he truly was a rake in some aspects, though admittedly it was all in the pursuit of avoiding “sex”, as defined by most, not chasing it — he helped a date find release with his tongue. But it never did anything for him. They moaned and said his name and screamed. Which was lovely. Who doesn’t enjoy recognition?

When you said his name, it was heavier. It was material, it had mass and as its gravity began its pull he found his mind circling that sound. He was pleasing his darling, not placating. And it made him react in that unusually crass way.

He felt like an apex predator when killing, tearing open animals made for him to hunt. But you made him feel baser. Prey in your gentle bite.

As your orgasm mounted, you began tugging at his hair to pull him off. You didn’t need him to stop, but everything was suddenly too sensitive. It was alarming to feel your body rocking from overstimulation. A strident cry filled the kitchen as your back arched off the table. He didn’t let up, despite how much you thrashed under his mouth. Rolling pleasure, muscles electrified and shaking beyond your control.

You patted his head harshly, “Good, I’m good. Alas—tor! Fuck!”

Ah, he loved when you swore. It punctuated your otherwise preternatural aura with a touch of humanity.

He stood and leaned over your now reclining body. Your pussy still clenching and legs shaking as he admired his work. You admired his shape in his apron, his broad shoulders and sharp eyes. Caught between your legs like a lion in a mouse trap; he acted like he had no way free of you. His grin widened and he made a display out of licking each finger clean. Eyes never leaving yours.

You knew many men to squawk at going down on a woman. To balk at wearing an apron. To grimace at the suggestion of cooking a meal while their lady took a nice bath or enjoyed a coffee. Alastor seemed to not think twice about any of it. How nice it would be. To have a partner beside you, to not be the woman in the often referenced “behind every great man is a great woman.”

“Alastor, I want you.” You pulled him down by the neck and stole a kiss. When he began to stroke himself fully back to life you pressed that hand to his chest. “Not like that. Though I’m not declining the offer.”

His eyes saw something in yours. “Sweetheart, you have me. There is no part of me that isn’t possessed by you. I know we keep things relatively… tightlipped for safety but I’m your fella and you’re my gal.” His nose touched yours. “But if you want more, I’ll become more. I’ll break myself apart and make myself better.”

Your heart sank. Sitting up to command a little authority, a feat given you were sitting panty-less on a kitchen table, “Don’t you dare. I’ll always meet you where you are, got it? Don’t go… groping around in the darkness for me; trying to find what I need. I’ll always come to you. Because you’re more than enough as you are.”

A little cough to clear his tightening throat, “I’ve not had a day of darkness since you arrived.” A kiss to your forehead before a soft thumbpad wiped at the corner of your eye. “Did I make you sad?”

You wanted to say it. But not now, not like this. You didn’t want Alastor to connect love and sex. To think one was necessary for the other.

While you were coming to learn how lovely it was to pair the two together, it was a fact they were wholly independent things. And you couldn’t allow him to think they were a set.

“You’ve made me too happy. It’s absolutely terrifying.”

But Alastor had found your expressions of acceptance always tumbled the circle of Love to overlap with that of Sex. It was only in that mixed space did he find desire in pleasure.

A wicked smirk, “Let me pile on my affections and drown out your fears.” His hips rolled into you again, a surprising eagerness returned to his lap. “Can I continue?”

With a nod and a smile, “But not another word of change, buster.” You leaned back on your hand for support. Alastor was happy to return to your heat, lining up and sinking into you. An embrace like no other, one he found particularly earnest when with you.

Close. Finally. You began where he ended, a natural extension of who he was and who he could be. The things he could have. A relieved sigh he didn’t try to hide before he began moving, a moment when his tension could melt. You were both an unseasonably warm autumn day and the cool comforting shade of an unfamiliar tree. Both the heat and the relief.

He watched your body rock against the table, even fully dressed you managed to look more scandalous than any show he’d seen downtown. He was grateful he didn’t seek this comfort often in others, the way his mind melted made him feel vulnerable. He couldn’t think straight. And then you began to make those lovely little groans, high pitched and needy, and he was sure his soul was errant.

As his thrusts deepened, cock no longer kissing your cervix but ramming into you with good intentions, you dropped back as you lost the battle against his hips.

Alastor’s arms slid up our waist and pulled your arms towards him, “Too far, I can’t see your face.”

Your arms were slung over his shoulders as your back curved for him, “You don’t need to see my face.”

“Tsk, wrong.”

Your new favorite place was right in front of him, wherever his line of sight was you wanted to be in it. Nose to nose, heads tilting to recapture soft lips and softer moans.

Until the softness left, Alastor’s skin slapping against yours as he dragged those lovely sounds from you. He watched your eyes roll closed, mouth open as you moaned with the safety of the seclusion of a country home. A thought bubbled up, inspired by you.

“I want the neighbors to hear you.” That smile half cocked across his upsettingly handsome face. His hand slipped between you both to repeat the motions he learned before. Hard and fast, no choice but to raise your voice.

Your head fell back, clit still sensitive, “You don’t have neighbors!” A new moan hitting the walls.

“I do— just a few miles down the road, dear.” His mouth latched onto your neck but he didn’t suck like he wanted, he couldn’t bite. Your skin was your job, your body not his to mark. Suddenly he remembered, “Do you still have that make up? For your bruises?”

You couldn’t understand why he would bring that up while balls deep in you but you nodded.

“Would it work on your neck?” He nipped lightly.

It clicked, “Absolutely.”

You felt like a teenager again. When his tongue swiped over your soft flesh before he began to suck on the skin there you could feel the heat rising off your chest. You could feel him everywhere, and with the knowledge he wanted to hear you, you tossed your shame out of the kitchen window and relaxed into the pleasure.

As he moved up your neck he left little marks behind. There was no sense left you didn’t occupy. He could smell the soap and sweat of your skin, taste your cunt still on his tongue, your sights and sounds a decadence he couldn’t get used to. And the feeling of you… velvety walls, a feeling finer than silk as he slipped in and out of you. So incredibly hot on his most sensitive areas, pulling him back in with admirable strength.

He felt his orgasm ratcheting up but tried to hold back. He wanted more time to experience your ecstasy, to wallow in your openness. Even pressed skin to skin now wouldn’t satisfy that deep desire for this unique level of intimacy. So he wanted to enjoy it for as long as he had it.

But, he knew he should prepare. “I don’t want to dirty your dress.” A lust heavy voice penetrating the nap of your neck. He’d made a risky release before at your urging, something he often thought about when work got quiet. But he knew he needed to think clearer now.

“Then don’t.” A terrible reply but you wanted all of him, every drop of his hunger for you. “Keep the mess in me.”

“My dear,” he slowed his hips, autopilot keeping them moving at all, “I don’t think now is the time for,” you tightened around him to trip him up, which worked spectacularly. Alastor had take several seconds before continuing, “talks on family planning.”

A pang of nausea and fear, small and sharp in your abdomen. It wasn’t that you weren’t aware of biology, just that Alastor brought out your baser animal instincts, too. And before, when he came buried as deeply as he could reach, it felt like you’d actually completed some ritual. Bears hibernated, birds migrated, Alastor came in you.

You’d never let a man do that before Alastor. “I just want to… accept everything you are willing to give me.”

He bit his bottom lip to redirect some attention away from his now throbbing member, “And when you’re sure on me, I’ll always provide.”

A pout that he kissed, you accepted the terms. An argument could be made you were already very sure, but you were well aware how naive that sounded when you’d known each other for so little time. Had a coworker told you she’d met a guy and within three months was ready for… the consequences, you’d have laughed and asked if she was drunk or just stupid.

Alastor wanted to provide. But he knew you’d be the one with the raw end of the deal, he couldn’t risk coercing a decision in the heat of the moment. If your mind was half was addled as his with pleasure then you were in no state for big decisions.

Life changing decisions.

Decisions that filled empty homes.

Fuck, why wasn’t he a less considerate man?

When his kiss deepened, so did his ministrations. He was fully sheathed and so unwilling to draw back more than a couple inches you wondered if he had changed his mind. It felt like a man not wanting to stray too far from home. One hand on the small of your back, his other other on the back of your neck. When he pulled out he pressed his tongue further, only stopping the kiss when he came onto the little space of table between your thighs. Soft and swollen lips parted as his breaths ran ragged. A smile spread across your face as you watched his eyes open, witnessing a pleasured blow out of his pupils.

When he grabbed a kitchen towel and cleaned the table, you chuckled at his grimace. “See? My way is cleaner.”

He didn’t reply at first, taking the cloth and hovering over the sink before tossing it into his trash. “Only in the short term. We can finish up tomorrow with the tools?”

Your legs kicked again, not ready to slide off, “Mm, it’ll be easier in the daylight.”

“Instead,” he zipped his pants but removed the belt and set it on the counter, “Let’s get zozzled* and sway around the sitting room? Crash where we land.” (*drunk)

“I’ll pour if you get the music on.”

He turned to leave but paused, “No, I’ll handle the drinks. You always have too heavy of a hand.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining last time…”

“I’m not sure I remembered I was at home and not at a drum* last time…,” He uncorked the label-less whiskey, grabbing two glasses with one hand. “Didn’t wanna insult the pretty waitress.” (*speakeasy)

Fair. You weren’t much for drinking and always underestimated the strength of illegal hooch. Some were weak and some could kill you. But fancy Alastor had connections with the kind of people no one dared to risk harm to, so he always had the most trustworthy goods.

Good music, great whiskey, and even better company. You thanked him for being safe while working, he praised your ability to learn new skills so quickly. After a few drinks he pushed the coffee table against the wall and you drunkenly swayed around the room to something playing smooth and low. As much as you enjoyed your conversations, having your head tucked under his chin as neither of you said a word somehow filled in the little cracks of your heart more so than any talk. For him too. No tension after sex, no stress of how long he’d get to breathe before the next instance of prodding to do it again. He could smile and close his eyes and feel the room swing and sway in total safety.

A safety neither of you knew was being threatened from afar.

When you woke, Alastor was gone. A note on the table letting you know he’d run out to grab some things for breakfast. Telling you to relax and recover.

You put the furniture back, bringing the glasses to the kitchen and his belt to the bedroom.

Coffee and a slow perusal of his home. Intimate details you tried to not stare at when he was there. The rare photo of his mother, a woman you didn’t speak about, a conversation you didn’t need to have, but someone you knew existed fondly still in his life. A silent thank you to her.

No photos of a man to give thanks to you so you turned to the little curios and mementos.

Little seashells and sand dollars, a small gator’s skull. Books, about anatomy and history. Novels about crime and love and mystery. Ticket stubs for films he’d seen. Little bits of his mother scattered in. A woman’s necklace. A chatelaine* with all of the accessories and tools. (*wikipedia page)

When you felt you’d spied enough, you crawled into his side of the bed and inhaled as deeply as you could. His pillow smelled like him. You let yourself sleep off the hangover surrounded by pieces of Alastor.

Pieces you couldn’t contain. Pieces left around town as a dick* hunted for his personal monster. (*a detective, but also, a dick, fuck this dude?)

Beth, or Betty as you called her, the friend you often sang for, was cleaning up from the previous night when Brady walked in. She tried to tell him they were closed, but he took a seat at the counter anyway.

“I’m looking for a singer named Autumn. She been around lately?”

She paused, knowing the name was tied to your work. This man didn’t know you. “Whose asking?”

“The city of New Orleans”, he set his badge on the counter top.

“Is she in some kinda trouble?”

“She the kinda dame to get into trouble?”

Beth laughed, “She doesn’t try to but men, liquor, and jazz tend to make it happen. She’s okay, right?”

He took a deep sigh, trying to blink away the exhaustion and remember he needed to be someone strangers trusted. Being honest hadn’t been working and being rough barely got him a lead. “Well I was hoping you’d know. Found out someone roughed her up a bit ago and just wanting to make sure she’s okay. But I don’t have her legal name, no address, nothing to track her down.”

Shaking her head, she leaned onto the counter, “What? Some egg* forget it’s just a show?” Brady shrugged. “I can’t say. She hasn’t been by in a couple weeks.” (*man)

He asked why. Feeling the deadend approaching.

“She was just doing me a favor. Once she got a guy she didn’t have much time.”

Fighting the urge to slam his fists against the wood and sling his notebook across the bar, Brady took slow breaths. Jaw clenched as he grabbed his pencil, “That is wonderful news. Hopefully a fit guy who can… keep her safe.”

Beth laughed a little, “I don’t know about that. He’s kind of a daisy*, but real kind.” (*a non-masculine man)

“Could I get a name? Or her address? Wanna follow up. See for myself that she’s doing well.”

She tapped the bar with two fingers and winked, “Ah no can do. Flatfoot* or not, I don’t tell men where to find sleeping ladies. But her fella is in radio though. I recognized his voice right away. Popular too, really ritzy air about him.” (*cop, detective)

As he left, he slapped the notebook against his palm over and over. When he stopped to take a second to congratulate himself something caught his eye. Across the street was a park he knew well. Following the block and turning, he could see the white and green awning of the cafe he’d seen you at before.

Had he been there? He hadn’t questioned why you were alone on such a nice day. But maybe you weren’t. Maybe you’d been playing him from the start.

Enough games.

When you took the stage that evening, a Friday show with a promising crowd, you felt like solid gold. Alastor would be there to pick you up in a few hours, you had every need met. And now you had the adoration of strangers to pump up your chest.

Until you passed your come-hither eyes over the crowd and a striking ocean blue pair knocked the wind out of you.

James was standing behind Brady, mouthing an apology. You missed a beat in your routine but forced your smile back. It took a second, to slide back into the actress you were when away from Alastor. Every time it got harder and harder to fall back into that role but you managed. His eyes never left your face, and you thanked God your heaving chest could be seen as fatigue and not the sheer panic that had taken ahold of your body.

When you were on the other side of the curtain you considered rushing out the side door, into the alley and down the street. But you couldn’t. You’d successfully brushed him off for so long but now that he had seen you, had made it clear he was there for you, you couldn’t flee. Innocent people don’t hide from cops.

Feet dragging, you saw some of the dancers standing around the dressing room door. “He’s out of his gourd if he thinks I’m changing with him in there.” One said loud enough to ensure Brady heard. When you entered the room he was sitting at your make up table, legs spread and your shoes in his hands.

“There she is!” standing, he extended the shoes to you, “Don’t stare like a deer in the lights. I’m sure you knew I was coming. Slip these on, we’re going for a ride.” He gave them a shake, “You can call your mac* from the station and let him know you’ll be late.” (*man)

˖ ݁𖥔.Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult.𖥔 ݁ ˖

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uranometrias · 1 day

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goodbye love, you flew right by , spencer reid

this was inspired by the season fourteen episode 'truth or dare'... it's my take on the jeid confession aftermath. listen to ceilings while you read, but don't think too deeply into it, because the story has a happy ending... this is only part 1 though, and it ends on a awkward/angsty note, so sorry. reader passes out from a head blow.

i wanted it to be short, but i have no self control.

you tried to keep your mind on your training, you didn't really have time to panic, you needed to stay calm. you focused all your energy on your breathing, willed your fear away with thoughts of better things. you didn't even want to focus on the fact that spencer was across from you, hands pinned behind his back as he stared up at the manic man that was currently holding you, your boyfriend, and your closest work friend hostage. you believed in your team, and what you were capable of, you knew without a doubt you'd make it out alive.

"casey..." spencer speaks, his voice has matured over the years, rightfully. he sounds so official, and you find yourself sitting a touch straighter at the sharpness behind his words. jj was standing up, eyes glued directly on your captor, her face was pinched up with the proof of her worry. she catches your eye, and looks forlorn, you only hope that she sees the resilience resting in your own eyes, as you try and offer a semblance of hope through your own gaze.

"shut up!" he shouts, and his gun is aimed at spencer. he spits the words out, quickly stomping towards jj as he forced her to the floor.

"okay, okay!" she exclaims, and it's clear that he's hurting her. his patience has run thin, and jj's plan of getting through to him by playing along with his sick 'truth or dare' game was proving to be all for not. your foot unconsciously begins to tap, likely a nervous habit that you have no time to unpack. you're still too busy trying to appear unbothered, it always seemed to tick the unsubs off when it seemed like their bravado meant nothing. that's what you needed. you couldn't afford to let him think that he scared you.

"last chance." and his gun's trained directly at jj's head. "something you'd never say aloud, not even to your friends here." and casey's whirling around to point the gun in your direction, you think it might have been a mistake for him to turn around. when he sees your foot tapping his face contorts, he's annoyed with you, angry with you. your arms are uncomfortable from the way they were taped together behind your back, and the foot tapping has become involuntary.

his reaction is almost instantaneous, and you think you understand why the team's always telling you not to get so lost in your own mind.

casey's grabbing you by your arm and it hurts, especially as his nails manage to pierce through the skin. he seems to be doing it on purpose, yanking you up to your feet as jj and spencer both surge into action. "wait, wait, please-" jj's leaning forward, eyes wide and full of fear for the first time since this whole ordeal began. spencer's scared too, but he hides it much better you think.

"please, don't hurt her." he begs, and you find it a bit annoying that he's brought them to the point of begging, of using manners to appeal to his ego. casey's eyes jump from spencer to jj, and then to you, and he's sneering. he whirls you around, arm looping around your neck as he presses the barrel of his gun directly to your temple. you sing along to your favorite song in your head, using it as a way to stay grounded, it likely made you look like a mad man.

you supposed that it was your superpower, your ability to look death in the eye, and not flinch. the team often mentioned they weren't sure if you or emily was more stone-faced in a crises situation. "oh, you don't want me to hurt her?" he mocks, and you don't look at spencer, no, you keep your eyes on jj, because she's the one that has to play the game. if you didn't know spencer so well, you never would have noticed the slight movement of his arms, he was up to something.

he was fine.

jj was the one in the hot seat, and she needed you to be calm. freaking out would only make her all the more anxious. so you offer her a stern look, a look that expressed that you all would be okay. she doesn't look convinced. "i want your deepest, darkest secret." he insturcts, "impress me, or i'll kill her." and he slams the gun deep into your temple, the action dizzying as you try and maintain your balance. you feel pain blooming behind your eyes. "and then i'll kill him." he nods his head towards spencer, and jj's on the verge of tears.

you have no choice but to watch her, he's given you a first-class seat to the action. jj's eyes don't land on you though, instead she's looking over to spencer. he looks back at her, face pensive, but otherwise calm. she shudders for just a moment, and it looks like she's trying to work up the courage. "come on!" casey suddenly screams directly in your ear, and you flinch violently. it garners both jj and spencer's attention. casey tightens his hold on you, gun at the ready. "do you think this is a joke? do you think i won't blow this bitch's brains out?"

you're not too fond of being called a bitch, and the drama of it all, takes you out of the moment a bit. why were all unsubs so cliche?

jj takes in another shuddered breath, this one bordering on a sob as she takes in a puff of air. it takes her a moment to get her bearings, but then she's looking at spencer again. she offers him a weak smile, and you get a tingle up your spine, it feels like a warning for disaster. "spence..." she says his name weakly, voice harsh as she croaks. he's looking away from you finally, meeting the gaze of his best friend. "uh..." she inhales sharply. "um..." she looks at you then, and you're eyes are wide, confusion swirling there and she's exhaling.

there's a heaviness, a guilt that stares back at you, and you find yourself scared for the first time, but not of casey. no, you're scared of your friend. "i'm sorry." she mouths to you, and you watch as she looks back at your boyfriend, the clear love of your life. you feel dread then, because you know jj, you know her too well, and you know what's coming. why else would she be so worried, why else would she be looking at you with so much shame in her eyes. "i've-" she stops.

spencer's none the wiser, he wouldn't get it until she said it in full. so while you spiraled into despair, he sat patiently, doe-eyes wide and full of whatever innocence he still had left. you wish you could go back to before, you wish you hadn't been assigned to go with jj and spencer, if you were with the team you'd be none the wiser. you wouldn't feel so heartbroken, displaced, uncertain. but you're here now, and all you have to do is wait for the other shoe to drop. jj inhales, and you wish she would get it out. "i've always loved you."

and there it is.

you'd come to recognize the signs and signals of tears, it always started with your eyes burning like you'd been sitting in smoke. your nose stings next, and you bare down harshly on your tongue to keep them from falling. "and i was just too scared to say it before." it's a gut-punch, it would have likely knocked you on your ass had casey not been forcing you to take it all in. "and now things are just really too complicated to say it now." and she's crying, and that's how you know that she means it. that only makes you feel much worse.

jj, for all intents and purposes was a great actress, she could make any story believable, but she'd never been a good 'fake crier'. she could hide every single one of her tells when she spoke, but emotions were harder to manage. you remembered how she'd told you that one day while the two of you were hanging out. you don't know what brought you there, but she'd made it clear, that tears for her were hard to fake. which left you with what? a best friend that was in love with your boyfriend?

"i'm sorry, but you should know." and you'd hoped she'd at least have the decency to look at you. she doesn't. instead, she's still looking at spencer, and you feel like you're intruding. more than that you feel so stupid. spencer's got this look on his face, this shock and awe and confusion that makes you want to vomit, it makes you want to throw yourself to the ground and throw a tantrum. you want to open your mouth and scream, remind them that 'hey, you're here too'... remind them that you were apart of this, that this was a very very bad thing.

hope was not the sort of look he should be wearing, it's not how he should be responding. you don't know what you'd expected, but certainly not for him to look so relieved, not while you were sitting right there in front of him with a gun to your head. he gives her a half smile though, and you crumble. casey's suddenly chuckling, shoulders rocking as they're pulled out of their little moment. "hot damn!" and he's releasing the gun from your temple, holding it like a little prop, as he forced you back to the ground.

you don't resist, your knees slamming into the floor as you conceal your wince, conceal everything.

"now that's what i'm talking about." casey mutters excitedly. "now those are some last words right there..." he nods his head. he then looms over her, gun pointed directly in her face. "but not good enough to save your life-" before he can hope to pull the trigger, spencer has shot him. the shot echoes all around you, but it doesn't seem to pull you from your muffled mind. casey falls to the floor, jj jumping as he lands down next to her. she shudders violently.

then she's looking back at him, at spence. your spence.

you don't like how it makes you feel, that they've conjured this small habit of getting lost in one another. you clear your throat, and they're finally, finally looking at you. jj looks mortified, but you can't read spencer at all. he doesn't look at jj again, doesn't say a word, instead he's looking at you. you should feel something other than rejection, but you don't. not even when his eyes seem to brim with all those feelings that you know he has for you, because now it feels fake.

he's quick in the way he rushes towards you, kneeling as he inspects you like porcelain. his dominant hand moves to gently brush over where you'd been hit with the gun. you don't want him to touch you though, so you pull back, it's more like a hard jerk, like you were frightened of his touch. you try to play it off, pretend it never happened, but you know that he knows. it felt like the beginning of the end, like the prerequisite to something god-awful.

he looks so upset, hurt by the action, but you think out of the two of you, you're the one who's really hurt. "can you just get me out of these, please?" you don't sound like yourself either, instead you sound hollow, like a grieving woman. you probably are, grieving that is. spencer gives you a worn down nod, but maneuvers until he's behind you. he gently tugs at the tape, but it still hurts as it strips at your skin. you bare your teeth, but don't say anything, head hanging low, until he was done. he offers you his hand, you ignore it.

"y/n." jj calls, and she sounds so distraught. you ignore her too, you don't know what other choices you have. the room's not big enough to hide in, so instead you find yourself rushing over to melissa. you think it's silly, to leave the two of them alone while so much hung in the air, but it was better that way. "melissa." you say her name quietly, kneeling in front of her, despite how shabby they felt. "i need you to hang on, okay?" you exhale shakily.

"help will be here before you know it." you promise, and you're pressing on her wound, blood smearing your hands and your fingertips as she winced painfully. you don't hear anything from jj and spencer, but it doesn't make it better. clearly a glance was all it took for the two of them now. you hate the way this has thrown you, you don't exactly know why you're so fearful. jj was married, she had two sons she adored, and a marriage she was happy in. so why did it feel like the confession was the start of something bad.

were you so insecure that you felt like you didn't stand a chance?

you don't want to think about that, it might actually be enough to make you upchuck. instead, your masochistic mind has you chancing a glance back to where it all went down. you see that spencer has taken the tape off her hands. she's looking up at him, and he's staring down at her. you think that you hate them then. the door bursts open a second later, and you're glad. soon enough a medic would come to see to the wounded, and you could get the hell out of dodge.

"we're going to need an EMT, we've got three down." you exclaim. the room immediately jumps into action. you hear the incessant thrum of conversation as everyone jumped into action, and you're more than grateful when you feel someone looming. your mistake was believing it would be a medic, your face falls flat when you're met with the sight of jj. she had always had a bad habit of trying to force the hard conversations. today though, you were determined to stand your petty ground. you avert your gaze, attention back on melissa.

"y/n, please don't do this." she says this quietly, and you hear the genuine anguish in her voice. it doesn't sway you, it can't possibly.

"it's already done." you quip, and you're grateful to have slowed the bleeding of melissa's wound, as a medic takes your place, finally. you stand to your feet, bloodstained hands itching to smear against your jeans, but you refrain. you ignore rossi and tara's questions, not really in the mood to answer different variations of the 'are you alright?' game. you needed air. silly you to think it'd be over just because you'd willed it to be. just as you're stepping outside, you feel a warm hand encompassing your wrist. you don't want to stop, but it's habitual.

"let me go, spencer." you try quietly. you don't want to be that girl, the one that lashes out, and causes a scene. diplomacy was the name of the game. your eyes are glued to the ground, you didn't want to picture him with that stupid hopeful look on his face anymore. you knew that night when you closed your eyes you'd see it over and over. it would taunt you, play on an endless loop while you tore yourself to shreds. what was it about her? why was this happening to you?

"i can't." he replies, and you wish he'd spoken to you earlier. you wish that he had communicated with his mouth, rather than with his eyes. maybe you wouldn't be so far gone. it didn't have to be a big deal, because at least you would have known that it didn't matter. that her confession hadn't changed anything, but he'd stayed silent, and he'd looked at her in a way he'd never looked at you before. you knew there was history, you'd heard whispers from derek and penelope about a football game from years and years ago.

you had never expected for it to matter now.

"you can, you're just choosing to hold me hostage." you mumble, and despite your anger, you can't lash out. you can't be irrational.

"i'm not going to let you leave angry with me." and you hate how he knows you so well. you think it's something you'll miss. "i want us to talk about it, i think that we need to." he says in that voice he often used when he was trying to gently guide you towards the right choice. you don't want to be policed or treated like you were the one that had messed things up. all he'd needed to do was shut it down, all you'd wanted him to do was not look so happy, like it was something he'd spent his entire life waiting for.

"what's there to talk about, spencer? it's happened, okay? let's just move on, before this turns into something it doesn't need to." you shoot back, and he's not convinced, nor is he willing to budge.

"you're treating me like some stranger, as if i don't know you well enough to see when you're lying to me." he's gaining that disappointed lilt to his voice, and you think long gone are all your chances of getting out of this place without it turning into a full blown soap opera meltdown. "we're not going to get anywhere if you can't be truthful with me." he adds, and you don't want a lecture, because you'd done nothing wrong. you were the one casey had held, you were the one that had a gun pressed to your temple.

you weren't the one that made the life changing confession.

"i'm asking you to drop this." you say sharply, and you're hoping to snatch your arm away from spencer. he doesn't let you, and on any other occasion you'd feel so protected, so wanted. now though, you feel claustrophobic, trapped, you didn't feel safe. "i understand that you're trying to preserve our relationship, and i wish i could tell you that this doesn't change anything..." his face morphs, eyes screaming at you not to proceed. "but i just need a second to wrap my head around all this, okay? can you give me that? space?"

to him space always felt like the beginning of the end. he thinks that's why he's determined not to let you go. "will you come back? if i let you go?" and he's already dropped you wrist, so you know that he's not really talking about right now. he sounds uncertain, scared, and it does remind you that there was love he felt towards you. the fear wraps around you, and you're not sure how it really makes you feel. you exhale shakily, and you don't want to give him the wrong answer.

"agent l/n." you're both being pulled back to reality, back to what was going on around you. you note the bleeding gash in his hand, likely from the shard he'd used to free himself from the tape and you sigh.

"i don't know, spence." and it's true. "i'm just a little bit confused right now." you admit. "and my feelings are hurt," you shake your head rapidly. spencer doesn't know how to express the way his mind is running. all he knew was that jj's confession would not be enough to make him want to throw away his time with you. he wanted you to know that you weren't a consolation prize, but he didn't know how to say it now without seeming ingenuine. he knew how it looked, he knew how he'd feel if he was in your shoes.

but, he wasn't in love with jj. he remembered a version of himself that tripped over himself at her gaze, the version that stayed up late at night replaying conversations in his head. a part of that guy would always exist, he couldn't lie and say it didn't. he loved her so wholeheartedly that sometimes it still managed to scare him, but she was an illusion, a fantasy. realistically he doubted they'd make sense in a romantic sort of sense, it was only something to think about... not something to uproot lives behind.

more than that though, he'd never felt for jj the way he felt for you. he remembered the first time you'd waltzed into the bullpen. you'd knocked him right on his ass, took every thought in his head, and made it your very own. you consumed his time, and he was willing to let you. he wanted you to be the only thing that could quiet his running mind, he wanted you to be the only person that could help him sleep. he didn't want to give this anymore attention than it needed, because he was set in his heart. it wasn't a question.

he didn't know why he couldn't just say that. why everything felt so lopsided and off focus now. his lips curve down into a deep pout.

"my head hurts." you mumble, your bottom lip trembling as spencer's frown deepens. he wants to hug you, but after your initial rejection he doesn't know if he can take another one. you feel a bit drowsy, likely a side-effect of the way casey had manhandled you.

"i know, you'll need to get checked out." he says quietly. "you might have a concussion, he really did a number on you." and despite his initial protests, and your earlier reaction, he's reaching for you again. you don't know if you're insecure, or if your profiling skills are allowing to see him for who he is, but the look in his eyes pushes you to relax. his fingers are gentle in the way they cradle your face, and instinctively you're leaning into his palm, cheek pressing against his hand. "i'm sorry." and you don't know which part he's apologizing for.

"can you come with me?" a quiet and still hopeful question. "we could sit together in the ambulance, pretend everything's alright just for a second?" you offer, and you think that's an answer to his question in itself. you didn't know how long it would take to get checked out, you didn't know how long it would take for them to bandage his hand and assess him for other scrapes and bruises, but you could take advantage of it, just the two of you. you could sit in silence, and dance around in that space between love and betrayal.

it was possible.

"y-yeah." he didn't stutter much anymore, so it stands out and makes you want to frown. "we can do that." his expression is torn, and you want to know what's on his mind, what he was thinking. you needed to know, you wanted some sort of sign, anything, that would show you he hadn't given up on you all because jj was in love with him. you hoped you weren't that disposable. "i want to." he adds, and he blinks harshly, almost like he's warding off tears, and it feels so awkward. the usual banter, the back and forth, the flirty remarks that always managed to leave you both shy were all gone.

in a matter of moments.

"good." and at the very least, he's here with you right now. "give me your hand." and you're careful not to grab the one he'd split with the glass, instead stepping around him to pull his clean palm into your slightly stained one. your fingers interlock, and it's a habit, a natural one at this point. "don't think too hard about it." you instruct, and he scoffs at you. he's upset, he's disappointed, hurting, angry, confused, you can see it. all his emotions seem to pile up on one another.

"how can i not?" he asks, and he sounds so tired. "it feels like you're seconds away from telling me that you're done with me." you're a not surprised at the pivot in his demeanor.

"isn't that what you want now?" you've started to walk, and spencer's letting you lead him, not quite ready to let your hand go once you reached the medic that was currently trying their hand at getting your attention. "i mean the girl you've always loved just put herself on a silver platter." you adds with a quiet sneer a second later. "what do you need me for?" you question, and he hates the feeling of his heart mimicking the sensation of pulling and squeezing. it hurts.

"y/n..." he tries, and you shake your head. "you have to know that nothing has changed." he promises, and you scoff. it stops you in your tracks.

"everything's changed!" you hiss. "she's in love with you. jj, our friend. she's been harboring feelings for you for years, but nothing's changed?" you huff, a tear seems to find joy in slipping from your eye in that moment. it's just one, but you know it's a opener to the main event. it's probably because despite everything, he makes you feel safest. part of that safety came an inability to shield your emotions and reactions from him. you'll have to try your darndest to do so now.

you don't really know if you can conceal them, but you don't want them to turn into full blown sobs. a few stray tears were easy to ignore, but the second it became a meltdown you knew you were finished. this wasn't your secret to share, and despite how angry you were with jj, you knew that it wasn't her fault. things were complicated, and you couldn't fully blame her for how she felt. you just wondered if she was biding her time, if she thought she was better suited for spencer than you. did she actually like you?

did she actually believe all that she'd told you regarding your relationship with spencer?

'i've never seen him smile so big' ... 'you guys are actually perfect for each other' ... 'tell us y/n, are you gonna be the one to give spence a few baby geniuses? the boys need some cousins'. your heart aches at the thought of it all being nothing but lip service. but you'd never expose her to the team, you'd never hurt will and the boys like that. which meant you'd have to shape up before the team was back.

"i mean for myself. nothing's changed for me and the way that i feel for you." he presses. "i wouldn't just toss our time together away like that." spencer looks stern as he scolds you. "was there a time that i thought about what it would be like? to be with jj... to-to have her love me back? yes... i won't lie about it." he says, and your face crumples up, and you want to run away. you don't know what he's getting at, but his words don't help as much as he might've hoped.

it causes you to yank your hand away, head shaking back and forth as you step back. "i said that i didn't want to talk about it." and you feel hypocritical because you'd thrown a few rocks to get you to this point in the conversation. "so stop it, okay? we're going to let it go, and we're going to talk about something else." you try your hand at deflecting. spencer's got an exceptional amount of patience, you see it wearing thin on his face, but you're not willing to budge.

"no, we need to talk about this." spencer argues. "i'm not going to pretend with you, and we've been together long enough for you to realize that you don't have to pretend with me, either." he adds. "if we don't now... i'm scared that we never will, and you're- you're angry with me, and i need you to tell me why." he pleads. "if we can't deal with things like this, we'll never make it past the hard stuff." he exhales, "i really want to make it past the hard stuff with you."

"i don't want to talk about it." you feel yourself getting a bit more irrational, angrier. your head feels like it's hurting even more, throbbing as it passed behind your eyes.

"why are you acting like this?" he's growing a bit frantic, he's got abandonment issues, and it feels like you might leave. he's lost a lot of people in his life, he's never been the best with change, he's never been the best with moving on, getting past the hard stuff. he doesn't want to push you too far, but he feels like he's got to hold on tight or risk losing you forever. "why can't you just tell me what you're thinking? if you're gonna vent, why not with me? let me help-"

"i don't want you to do anything for me!" you snap, and you're getting looks from the officers outside. you see rossi and his eyes are directly trained on the both of you. the rest of the team is scattered about, but much like rossi they're looking your way. it's officially become a scene. you run your hands across your face, dried blood caking over your skin, as you press your hands together, taking in a shaky breath. "i told you that i didn't want to talk about it." you remind him harshly.

"y/n-" you don't give him the chance to say much else, because you're immediately cutting him off.

"no!" you're ensuring your volume stays at appropriate levels, especially now that you seemed to have garnered a small audience. tara's still looking, and you know that every so often jj's taking it all in too. you at least owe it to the both of you to not go too far. "i want you to respect that maybe this isn't something you can fix with your extensive knowledge." you proceed. "you're smart as a whip, but boy do you still have a lot to learn about emotions." and you think you might have gone too far. you've definitely gone too far.

your head is really hurting though, and your vision's getting spotty. you don't have it in you to be politically correct, but you see the way his face morphs, how he looks so hurt. he towered over you, but he never looked more like a little boy than he did in that moment. "and my feelings... whatever they may be aren't just something that you can push out of me to make yourself feel better. this isn't just going to go away and be fixed by bed time, doctor reid."

he blinks.

"i wasn't-" he exhales, heartbeat wanting to rise in his chest. "that's not-" he's not prone to panic attacks, but he knew a lot about them. he knew how they could come out of no where, and be crippling. he was panicking, freaking out, mostly because he was being misunderstood. he never wanted you to misunderstand him, especially as it pertained to his intentions and his feelings towards you. "i wasn't trying to manage your feelings... i-" he's trying to breathe. "i just want us to be okay, i don't want to lose you."

you want to reply, really you do. you don't think you can though, because your brain feels like it's about to erupt. your knees lock, and you almost jerk. spencer's eyes widen and he's surging forward to catch you the second you start to fall. it brings him to his knees, split hand be damned. "y/n." and his suspicions about your concussion were confirmed, it makes guilt lash at him instantly. if he'd just bit his tongue, you wouldn't have passed out. he'd let you get too overwhelmed, you'd told him your head was bothering you.

he's so busy beating himself up, and trying to ensure that you were breathing, he doesn't even realize that matt's trying to garner his attention. "hey, what happened?" and he snaps out of it when tara's gently shoving at his arm. he feels like everything's going in slow motion now, he's just concerned about you. that's nothing new.

"i think she has a concussion..." he mutters. "casey-" he tightens his hold on you. "casey hit her in the head." he explains, and he wonders why he hadn't been more diligent earlier. the EMTs are joining next, and he should feel more relieved that you'll be getting the care you need. he knows most times unconsciousness wanes about fifteen minutes from the time that the victim passes out, but it doesn't calm him down. guilt was one hell of a problem.

"she's gonna be alright." tara is telling him, as they're rising to their feet, eyes following the stretcher you were laid out on. "she's a real fighter." and he already knows that, he thinks you're the strongest person in the world, but he should've never pushed you.

"spence!" jj's calling him, and she's approaching before he can reply. "what happened?" she sounds about as worried as he feels. guilt clearly was a dinner for two. "is she okay? w-what's wrong with y/n?" she fires off, and spencer thinks he should be the one talking to the EMTs and not tara and matt, but he can't seem to move. or respond, based on the way jj's face contorts. "spence!" she calls him again.

that snaps him out of his reverie.

"she's got a concussion, it's all my fault." he says what he's thinking. "i shouldn't have tried to force her to talk-" and he hates that right now is the moment he decides to word vomit. "i just-" he looks up at jj, who's got a mixture of emotions swirling in her eyes. "i should have let her go get checked out." he explains.

"this isn't your fault. spence, you're not the one that gave her a concussion. you're not the one that hurt her, casey was." she insists.

"casey's not the one that blew everything up." his retort is quick, and in hindsight, he doesn't blame jj for anything. he knows things are complicated, tricky, weird. but he doesn't want her to be the one to comfort him, and tell him everything was going to be fine. not right now.

"what? are you blaming me now?" jj asks, and she sounds heartbroken. spencer thinks he's getting used to the feeling of his foot being in his mouth. there's a moment of tense silence, a stare off that occurs where neither of them knows what to say. they don't know how to proceed, and he doesn't know why he keeps getting caught in this limbo of not knowing what to say. "i didn't mean to make things difficult." she finally says. "i never-"

they're pulled from this moment by tara. "spencer." and his head turns. "are you going to ride along to the hospital?" and it should've been the natural decision, except he's not feeling particularly ready. he takes a small step back, and it's one everyone seems to notice. the only people that were privy to what went down in that room were you, jj, and himself, and yet it felt like in that moment the entire team was given a front row seat to the obvious aftermath.

something had shifted, changed.

"y-" he shakes his head. "you go ahead." he offers, and tara's eyebrows raise. her shock makes him feel worse, but she doesn't question it. she climbs into the ambulance, and soon enough they're peeling out. his hand still hurts, the gash gnawing at him, but it's a welcomed pain. he'll have to bandage it soon though.

"spence." jj's wearing this look, a mixture of emotions he doesn't want to deal with. "it wasn't your fault." she insists. it doesn't make him feel any better, instead he's forced to come to terms with the decision he'd just made. you'd been taken to the hospital, and he'd stayed behind. he'd stayed behind and been reassured by jj.

you were never going to forgive him.

351 notes · View notes

takes1 · 3 days

Text

p.2 asahi x feral reader w/ a size k!nk

this is gonna get so fucking good ya'll i love thisss!! it's fun writing this sweet guy be a little dirty lmao

warnings. nsfw. minors DNI info. nsfw / build-up to more smut / phone sex / mutual masturbation / blue balls / suggestive conversation / gentle giant!asahi / mutual size kink / sweet asahi / long-mid distance issues / kuroo's sister!reader / kuroo cockblocking / kuroo being protective / 2.3k words / multipart series so reply to be added to taglist! haikyuu collection. more hq here! part one here. part three here. more links. my ao3. masterlist. requests open!

Your pencil twirled, tap-tap-tapping against your half-filled page of notes as you searched for the next header to copy for this dreadful, draining history class.

Anything to distract you from the fact that he hadn't called you.

The game was Tuesday- now it was Friday evening, and still, no word from him. Maybe you had something in your teeth when you spoke to him, or you smelled bad, or he just didn't like your hair. You had dedicated hours trying to figure it out.

A phone call was hard evidence he was interested in you. Practically a 'yes' to your fantasies, which had only gotten more unhinged with the hurt of this perceived rejection.

He still remained just a few minutes worth of your real energy on some ordinary day. But God, how you mourned for what could've been. How he would've filled you up, wrecking you with the satisfaction and excitement you yearned for.

buzz buzz. buzz buzz. buzz buzz. buzz buzz.

The sound initially deepened your already lackluster mood, because you learned to be disappointed with every call that wasn't from a Miyagi area code.

You were grateful that your eyes happened to glaze over the screen before you completed the swipe to ignore it.

A piercing scream of delight filled your entire house through a cracked bedroom door.

Tetsuro's unwanted, grating voice across the hall shattered your elevated state of bliss:

"SHUT UP!"

"YOU SHUT UP! I'M ON THE PHONE!"

You took a deep breath on the fifth ring and, shaking off the nerves by standing up out of your swivel chair, you swiped across the screen to answer.

"Hello?"

"Hey, is this (Y/n)?" A deep, rumbly voice made your knees weak.

"Y-es," Your voice cracked, tummy tingly, "Is this- Asahi?"

His name left your lips so well. You fell onto your back on your bed, pressing your thighs together at the sound of his reply.

"Yeah, that's me."

You hadn't heard his voice before, thinking hard about it now, because he didn't say anything to you in person.

"I thought you wouldn't call," You bit your lip in restraint, but kept the tension in your belly, "Why'd you keep me waiting for so long?"

A grumbly sigh on the other end gave you a full-body shiver. You crossed your legs.

"I was nervous," He admitted.

The giant did have a heart, after all. Curious, you smiled and looked up.

Your face fell.

"Get out of my room!" You shouted at Tetsuro, who was lingering in the doorway.

"How long have you been in here?!"

"I'm not in your room," He tested you by putting a foot inside, and didn't answer your question, instead pressing his own, "Who the hell are you talking to?"

It reminded you: A quick 'Hold on' and what you thought was the mute button--

You scrambled across your bed to the doorway to close it, but he dove out of the way and you ended up shutting him in. You flung it open again.

"Get out!!"

The demon-spawn was making for your phone, so you leaped onto his back and weighed him down to the floor instead.

"It better not be--," He grunted with effort as he shoved you off by the face, "Some country-bumpkin prick!"

There was no contact on the screen, so he couldn't be sure who you were talking to even with your phone in his hand.

"Who is this?" He interrogated, his torso leaning on your bed, his knee on your chest to keep you down.

You punched his leg over, over, and over again. He swatted at you while looking at your phone to figure out why nobody was responding to him.

It gave you the opportunity to push him off while his balance was uneven. You slapped your phone out of his hand and it clattered to the floor.

There was a violent hush over the two of you.

Tetsuro rose of his own accord, dodging a slap, and kicked your phone far under your bed with a grumble.

"Like I'm gonna just let that happen."

The door slammed behind him. You skittered up, opened it, then called after him, "Stay out!!"

You made sure to lock and barricade it this time.

When you leaned down to find your phone, it was impossible to reach with your hands or legs from either side of the bed. That asshole had made sure to kick it just far enough to make you get creative.

You had to tie together a ruler and a clothing hanger to retrieve it, then use your foot to leverage it out.

To your relief, the call was still active. But it wasn't muted.

Heart sunk halfway down your ribcage, you asked a grim question, "How much of that did you hear?"

His chuckle lifted your spirits instantly.

Almost as a conditioned response, you glanced to the door. It was still secure.

"I'm so sorry, my brother is the worst." You grumbled, climbing back into your bed with a sore face, hand, and knee.

Asahi's tone was clear and smooth.

"It sounds like he just wants to keep you out of trouble."

Your body jumpstarted again at that word. You wanted all the trouble he had to offer. You couldn't help but giggle, since his response sounded as if he was referring to himself.

"I know how to handle myself," You grinned, "I'm only a year younger than him."

"He's a senior, isn't he?"

"Mhm."

"So you're a second-year."

"Mhmm," You could listen to him talk all day. Your hand rubbed over your prickled chest, savoring his voice against your ear.

"Good. I feel like less of a creep, now."

In his admission you could hear his lips curl into a smile- your covered your mouth and kicked your legs in the air.

"Don't tell me you thought I was a first-year," You teased with false surprise.

"I-," He sighed, a little labored, and something shifted against the receiver, "Knew it was a possibility."

His standards aside, your interest moved to the extra sound on his end of the line. You prayed it was something risque.

"What else do you wanna know about me?" You stretched your legs up and watched your blank ceiling, biting your lip in wait for his response.

The way he towered over you- his frame was perfect for your fantasies. You imagined him leaning over you now, legs draped over his massive shoulders.

"What made you want to give me your number?"

Another shift, a heavy sigh. You couldn't raise the volume any higher, nor could you hold the phone any closer to your ear to try to hear what he was doing.

In the hopes that he was dirtier than he wanted to let on, you smiled at the freedom to paint his imagination.

"Hmm..." You drawled.

An eager hand dipped between your legs, with one last glance to the door, and you palmed yourself through your shorts while you spoke.

"Your serve really did it for me," As you recalled that last hit, you heard him shift again, "I like your look- y'know, the whole samurai vibe--,"

Asahi laughed a little, making you grin.

"-I think it's really hot."

A pause. "Wait- really?"

"Yeah!" You giggled, "You're a good mix of cute and scary, that's a huge turn-on."

"Wow."

Maybe it was a bit forward of you to say, but so was everything else until this point. Your breath stalled, hoping that was a good wow. It felt so quiet for so long. Everything was still on both sides.

You sat up after a few moments, pulse quickening, and you bit your finger to keep from blurting out another stupid claim. It must've been too much- you were just about to hang up when you heard a quiet, different tone through the speaker.

"What are you wearing right now?"

Mouth open, you made sure to click mute before squealing into your pillow-- when you came up, teary-eyed from the pressure and excitement, you had to catch your breath.

Your voice was slightly hoarse when you unmuted yourself and asked, calmly, "Do you want me to lie to you?"

Thrown in a dumbing whirl of arousal, you went to reach for a vibrator, but realized the sound would probably be too much. You opted for your own fingers instead and tried hard to visualize his heavy hand over yours.

"Shit-," He huffed an uneven sigh, "Go for it."

Did he have any idea how sexy he sounded? You hoped he did- you hoped he knew exactly how to touch you, pleasure you, break you, then put you back together.

Your raised, flirty tone didn't match your answer, "Nothing."

The rumble of his laugh guided your hand to swirl small, soft circles around your clit. Your chest rose and fell a little faster, chasing the budding tightness that was finally coming back to you.

"What are you doing right now?" You couldn't help but ask. It was too tempting to wait around for him to tell you.

"Mm, I'm talkin' to you," He evaded. His smirk was audible through the phone.

His slight regional accent was so perfect. To Hell with city boys, you wanted this big, gruff countryside boy.

He laughed at your whine.

"I wish you weren't so far away," His tone lowered to a bare mutter- it was dripping in lust, but he covered it with a thin veil of wariness.

Your fingers felt so good, but his reminder only made you more sensitive to how you could never fulfill the ache deep inside without him right here, in Tokyo.

You could appreciate how he still kept his cards close. You weren't as patient as him- but upon your inevitable frustration that he wasn't as candid as you, the realization that it was the safer outcome dawned on you. If he wasn't so careful, he might hurt you.

Still, you were riding gentle, pleasant waves while you daydreamed through your response.

"How long would a train ride be?"

He didn't have to tell you how pretty you sounded for you to know. The little raise at the end of your sentence, the tiny waiver in your voice, you knew he liked it.

The quiet seethe on his end confirmed this. He told you without having to look it up, "Hour and a half."

Your pussy practically shut down.

"I could do that," You lied. Your brother would explode if he found out you hopped on a bullet train by yourself to go see some Karasuno boy- and he would. He always did.

Another low laugh. It fixed everything. You threw your head back again, fingers in your mouth so your fingers could slide a little better.

"Don't sound so disappointed," He cooed, "Me and the guys are gonna be in town for the weekend- and I was just thinkin'--,"

"Oh my god, yes. Whatever you're about to say, yes."

His distant 'Damn' away from the phone made you blush. You stopped touching yourself, just for the time being.

"There's just one problem."

You waited for the reveal without responding, then realized he wanted you to ask him.

"What?" You giggled at the weird pause.

His laugh was faint through the rest of his point, "Your brother."

You squinted at your ceiling again with a grumpy sigh. He was right. In fact, you were sure he didn't know the extent of how right he was. Your family was on Life360, and he had your location at all times.

If you turned your phone off, or deleted the app, or put it on 'battery saving-mode' he'd know, and it would be more ground to question you on.

It wasn't the tattling that bothered you, it was his nosiness in the first place.

The last time you snuck out to go see a boy further in the city, he followed you and ruined your movie date by kicking the back of his chair for half of the film. He drove you home and grilled you the entire way back.

"Fuck," You sighed, sitting up with a bit of a tummy-ache from your abandoned orgasm, "Yeah."

It sounded like he was moving again, but he was less flirty, and it made you think he maybe put his dick back up to think better.

"He actually called our team captain, Daichi. We were uh, still on the way back from the game. On the bus. And he put it on speaker."

Your jaw dropped again.

"Said he'd- ha-ha, he said he'd castrate anyone who touched you."

An annoyed sound left you.

"Don't tell me you believe that," You laughed pitifully.

Part of you believed it, so you wouldn't blame him if he did. That same days-long disappointment was creeping back.

Asahi considered his answer. He landed on, "I think... ah, I don't know. I think being cautious is smart."

You nodded slowly, but he couldn't see.

"I still wanna see ya," He added.

You grinned, relieved, and a little aroused again at his drawl, "Good."

It still left the obvious problem. You deliberated on what you could do. A glance to the locked door gave you one idea. Another glance to the window elaborated on it.

How could you see him, not leave the house, and have your brother not know at the same time?

Your question was slow as you slid off of your mattress and started to test the reliability of your window frame.

"How good are you at climbing?"

taglist.

thank ya'll for supporting this!!! i love this series it's so fun to write so i'm glad other people do too!! reply to be added to existing list :)

@valiantqueengarden @rinheartshyunlix @alpha-mommy69 @yuyunhoo @insertamazingnamehere @kreishin

masterlist.

requests. (including what you might want to see in the next 2 parts)

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hyhkai · 2 days

Text

∾ manwhore, mansplain, manipulate | sb

[ 🐬 ] — after having the displeasure of meeting the most annoying, son of a- nevermind, mansplaining cockalorum of your college, who you couldn't have figured to be the pervert type, and who you realize is also a dunce after he won't leave you alone though your annoyance was always written on your face, it's clear, it's obvious he'll only get shoo'ed away at one cost. or at least you think he will, since you've had enough of his bitchy attitude.

cw : PUBLIC, arguing, annoying clingy soobin, soobin's personality in this is quite the opposite from his real one, handjob, degrading crazy amounts.

a/n ; DO BLEACHERS EVEN HAVE SPACES BEHIND THEM, in this they do I couldn't care less, fuck, the title is the male version of gaslight gatekeep girlboss, and I totally made this plot on the spot while writing please.

you almost slammed the pen down onto the desk in a class so quiet that you could hear the clock ticking if paid attention to enough, looking behind after soobin poked at your back for the third time this class. "what. just what is it that you want from me?"

"nothing." he said, placing his head down on his own desk. those eyes may be doe, but they're like a siren to fucking run.

this is the kind of boy who makes you feel special, then ghosts you.

the cute kind of those, too.

"then don't poke me like that" you mumbled, turning your head ahead. you swear if it was possible for you to punch him if he even tried to talk to you during this class again, you would.

he's always been so... desperate, it's that he wants something from you but won't say it out loud, won't use his calculated words.

"y/n," to which he got no response, so he resorted to shaking your chair.

"what the f-" you looked back at him, a look of disappointment, anger and annoyance all over. "fuck off."

"I wish." he mumbled, looking into your eyes with no regret of what he just said.

"oh, wow." you said, and smiled without wanting to. "you're crazy."

"i know, right?" he shook his head in sarcastic thought. "I am kind of crazy."

"now please if you stay quiet, l could pay attention." and to your surprise, he stayed quiet throughout the entirety of what was left of the class. no poking, no chanting your name like a mantra. but it was not a reaction you'd usually get from soobin, he's always been the guy to fuck around with no remorse. and that is, very obvious, he is a dunce.

he's dunce enough to not even realize he is one.

class done, bag packed — you just wanted to get out and go back to your house, eat and sleep like you'd usually do, or like to do. but, alas, there was one thing hindering your peace and happiness — choi soobin. this one heck of a man who would fuck any object that is a good fleshlight alternative, a man who'd be happy from just fingering you.

and that, to you, is a problem.

how can a guy, with a face like that — a build like that, keep on poking and poking and poking at you until you've had enough and slap him across the face, just to get off on it? it's asinine.

so when you're walking out of the building, annoyed that your bag's strap keeps falling off your shoulder — and you spot him on the bleachers, there's one thing you make a mental note of.

change your route to the exit, please.

he almost jumped three stairs down when he saw you, lollipop clung onto his mouth's roof as he swirled it around.

"hey!" he lifted his hand in the air as a way of waving at you.

the loser's back at it again.

you didn't even look, didn't even glance at his figure that can only be described as perfect as he grabbed your bag. it got snatched right away because of just how loose you kept it on your shoulders.

"i said hey." he said again, looking at your exasperated, pretty face when you turned around.

"give that back, loser." you retorted, turning around, your head tilting forward with every word.

"sorry, what?" he said, putting a hand behind his ear to hear you better.

the fucker is now mocking your height? he is mocking your height? him?

"i said, give that back." you said, closing your eyes for a while so you can imagine smacking his face. "give me my bag back."

he laughed at your demands, looking in the direction of the building and right back at you.

"no"

you didn't realize before this that a single word can also hold so much meaning and depict just how much of an absolute motherfucker a man can be.

"no? no?! seriously?!" you looked up at his face that was only giving you realization after realization that he's a slutty bitch. "what do you want from me?"

he suckled on his candy for a while, looking as if in deep thought. but to no surprise with his next statement. "not much, really."

oh really now? not much? it's so obvious since the day he saw you, that in his mind he thought it won't be long until he's going to have you in his lap. is that not too much to ask for?

"just a bit of your time, is all." he continued, looking at the badges pinned on the front of your bag.

“You can’t for one second act like a man can you? You're such a cunt!” you feel like you could rip out your hair with how frustrating he's being. with the amount of cockiness he thinks he's so cool to be binding his personality with, you could beat him up with no regrets. "what do you want from me?! attention? tutoring? pussy?—"

"yeah."

"what?" your face contorted when he responded to the word that was merely a mockery of his wants and needs. "huh." you clicked your tongue. of course your assumptions about him only wanting to get his fill were true.

you grabbed his arm and pushed him further back, until the two of you were behind the bleachers. he didn't react to your very aggressive methods of traveling until you stopped.

"what the fuck are you doin—" he attempted at a protest as he dropped your bag to the ground, but was ultimately shut up with you pulling his head down vehemently and crashing your lips against his, and even though you're the one who initiated the kiss, his response is more enthusiastic than any guy you've ever gotten with — and it's so sloppy, it's unexpected from a boy with lips as plush as his.

maybe it's wrong to do this, maybe it's right, but it's the only way to stop this boy who's been wanting to fuck you for months now. "is this what you wanted? huh?" you asked, looking up at him, his locks of hair between your fingers as he looked at you with lips parted. you took advantage of his state, putting your thumb in his mouth, pressing against his tongue.

"hng—" his hand, as if by ultra instinct, crawled to your waist. maybe it's a form of affection, or maybe he's a desperate slut. "who told you you could touch me with your crusty hands?"

he sucks and licks on them, surprising you as you feel his tongue swirl…fuck, how badly did you misread him? he's liking it?

he couldn't respond, this wasn't the way he'd expected to end up today at all — but hey, he isn't complaining. you rubbed your knee against his crotch, pinning him against the back of the bleachers.

please, someone don't be here.

"keep your mouth open." he was holding back his urge to bite down onto your thumb, as the stiffness of his body finally gave out and he stood straight up. you fed him your index finger, pressing your knee against his crotch again, rubbing as your brain went airplane mode. this isn't the best way to stop his bullshit, no, but you like it this way. him, on the other hand? he loves it this way, the slut is just too shy to admit it.

"awh, the manwhore is too shy to talk back now?" you pulled your fingers out, bubbles and strings of saliva on the pads of your fingers when your hands slipped into his pants after unzipping them, and you felt just how horny he can get in a span of a few minutes. he's enjoying this.

"um, so— holy shit— wh—” hes stumbling over his words. his hands are limp to protest against you, and his cock is too hard for him to protest against you.

you clasp your hand over his mouth, weakly, but he stills shuts up his ramble and jumble of words, blinking at you from above, with those god damn pretty eyes.

"shut up. just shut up. i bet you jerk off your stupid dick all night thinking about me, fucking whore."

his eye twitched at the statement, but he still does. "please fuck me." he requested while being muffled and jumbled.

"I am," you said as a matter of fact, tugging at his cock slowly. "I'm touching you, soobin."

"but, not completely." and this just showed how much of a demanding brat he is, not satisfied with the bare minimum friction he's getting.

"tch, tch, such a desperate man. aren't you happy a girl like me is touching your disgusting dick?" pressing your thumb on his tip to which his eye twitched, trying to grab your wrist to stop the pressure.

You could feel his breath on your neck—hot and heavy, which makes you feel things, to your demise — makes you wet, as you moved his hand out of the way for you, and after slight resistance, he pathetically lets you, followed by a whimper following shortly after when you start to slowly palm him. The moment you feel it twitched, you halt your movement, removing your hand from his crotch all together.

"h-hah.. h-huh? yeahh... yeah— fuck, please please, touch it properly, please—" he finally broke, letting out a whine he wishes you didn't hear, but judging by the smirk on your face, you definitely did. and it was hot— fuck, it was the sexiest thing he's ever done.

"ugh, I don't have all day for this." you shook your head, stretching the waistline of his bottoms forward and shoving you hands down again.

"holy fuuccck." he whispered, marvelling at the touch of your nails on the underside of his tip.

you twisted your hand as you jerked at his tip, causing his knees to bend an inch and his hips to buckle, closing his eyes shut. "shut the fuck up, soobin. don't need any student hearing you getting your cock jerked off, do we?" to which he mindlessly nodded, his head thrown back against the harsh metal that's probably heated up from the summer rays.

"fuck, fuck, fuck," he cursed under his breath, head tilting side to side every now that then, his chest heaving up and down. you squeezed his dick with your palm, causing his eyelids to squeeze. this sight has your panties in a bunch, but you can't show him that.

you press harder, his breaths knocked out of him, a slight squeak by the end that has his ears turning red and heated. you looked down at the sight of your hands shoved down his denims. "hah, do you not know when to stop annoying a girl? when to quit with your antics, and be a good boy? do you have no shame?” you mock, feeding his desire to be degraded that you're sure he has from the way he's reacting.

"is this— fuck, h-hah, is this the way you put all annoying guys in their place?" he questioned, managing to flutter his eyes open. he looked at you from the corner of his eye, trying to hide his face that was turning pink.

you laughed at the question, still looking down, index finger nudging his balls. "maybe it is. will that stop you from being an absolute annoying slut? will it?"

he couldn't respond, of course he couldn't — he's busy marvelling at the feeling of your warm, soft hands so all he could do was shake his head vehemently in a no.

what a slut!

"of course it wouldn't, pathetic whores like you only think from their dicks. you're a shameless bitch, soobin."

he couldn't protest, couldn't respond to the insults thrown at him — he's breathing is so messed up now his back is rubbing up and down the metal. "I'm gonna— I'm—" and he came in his pants, which will surely be a disaster for him to wash out afterwards.

you pulled your hand out, disguising your arousal with disgust at the sight of cum on your fingers, which you scrubbed off on the pockets of his pants, lifting your bag off the ground and throwing it on your shoulder. "keep being annoying."

i can write a whole fic explaining why I should give up on writing. okay goodbye. thank you for reading my garbage <3

#sub!idol #sub!txt #soobin smut #soobin hard hours #soobin hard thoughts #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #txt x reader #soobin x reader

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echobx · 3 days

Text

Truth or Dare - Rafe Cameron × fem!reader

summary: Topper convinces Rafe to take part in a harmless game of Truth or Dare

warnings: none

word count: 872

author's note: I was trying to work on a prompt and it went sideways, so you get a blurb instead lol (still working on the prompts tho, my dudes)

“Why would I play a children's game on my own account?” Rafe scoffed but Topper kept grinning at him, his stupid Topper grin. “What? You look sick, dude.”

“Y/n is playing,” Topper said and flashed his eyebrows.

“So?” Rafe tried his best to seem not interested, taking another sip of his whiskey.

“One game, come on. I'll pay double for your shit if you play,” Topper proposed and Rafe knew he couldn't let that deal flop. Barry was still on his neck from the last time, and he wanted to keep some cash for himself too for once.

“Fine,” he grumbled and walked into the other room where you sat amongst your friends in a circle, playing Truth or Dare and giggling.

There was something about you that Rafe couldn't quite catch, it was like you were always glowing. When he saw you at the beach or out with friends or studying at a Café in town, one he had just recently started visiting regularly because it was your favorite study spot.

“Can we join?” Topper asked and you flashed him a bright smile.

“The more, the better.” Your voice was like music, high notes bound together by an underlying sweet melody. Rafe had never thought to hear anything so sweet.

He wasn't someone who fell for girls easily, he had never really fallen for anyone, but there was something about you that made him want you more than he had ever craved anybody.

“I'm not sitting on the floor,” Rafe hissed under his breath, but Topper just pulled him down, and when he heard your soft giggle and caught you staring at him, he forgot why he was so against these games. Your light blushing and instantly turning your gaze away from him gave him an insurmountable boost of ego.

“Truth or Dare,” someone asked and pointed at Topper, “I don't know your name, sorry.”

“I'm Topper,” he introduced himself with a polite smile before slapping Rafe on the back. “And that's Rafe.”

“Okay, Topper,” the girl who had asked chuckled, “what's your choice?”

“Truth,” Topper grinned.

“Why’d you wanna play?”

“Playing is fun, we like games. Right? Rafe?” Topper looked at Rafe who had a hard time not gritting his teeth.

“Yeah, fun,” Rafe muttered and took another drink.

The game went on and Rafe was glad that he didn't get involved much, it gave him more time to look at you. You were sitting crisscrossed, your hair hung in soft waves over your shoulders. Your top was giving him a good view of your cleavage and the shorts were short enough to probably show half your ass, standing up.

“Truth or Dare, Rafe,” Topper asked from next to him, and you watched them closely.

You had noticed that Rafe couldn't keep his eyes off of you, and it felt nice to be admired for once, especially by a guy like him.

“I don't care,” Rafe sighed, swinging his head from side to side.

“Okay, dare it is. Kiss the prettiest girl in this room,” Topper grinned and Rafe wanted to strangle him on the spot. This was not how it was supposed to go. He had wanted to play the gentleman for once, woo you with his charm and newfound sweetness, but Topper didn't seem to think it a good idea.

“That's gonna be unfair to the rest of the ladies in the room,” Rafe tried to get himself out of the Dare.

“I think the ladies will forgive you, right, ladies?” Top said with a light swing in his voice, he was way more drunk than Rafe had thought.

You watched them argue silently before Rafe got up and downed his drink, putting the glass down on a side table behind him. Then he took a few steps towards you and held out his hand.

You were hesitant to take it, your heart pounding as if it wanted to jump out of your chest. And when your skin touched his you felt a jolt of electricity go through your body, it was comfortable and warm and exhilarating.

Rafe pulled you to your feet and held onto you. He smelled expensive, like the cologne your dad only ever used on special occasions. His eyes were of an electrifying blue and his lips looked soft, softer than you had ever imagined.

“Are you sure?” he whispered, and you nodded, looking up at him. He was so tall compared to your soft and small physique.

Rafe wet his lips, taking his hand up to cradle your jaw in his big hands. He leaned down and you up, meeting in a swift kiss. But once his lips had connected to yours he didn't want to let go again, and you didn't have any complaints about it either. You looped your arms around his neck, fingers raking through his hair at the nape of his neck.

“I think that's more than enough,” you could hear Topper holler and broke away from the boy who had wanted to keep kissing you.

“Uhm, I'm sorry,” you apologized and wanted to turn away again, but Rafe held onto your hand and pulled you back towards him, twirling you into his arms.

“I'm not,” he whispered.

please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

taglist: @ijustwantttoread @spideysimpossiblegirl @redhead1180 @princessmaybank @kys4-20 @drwstarkeyy @immyowndefender @julczimozart

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #~blurb #my writing #obx #outer banks #obx fanfiction

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ccsainzleclerc5516 · 13 hours

Text

All Yours. Only Yours.

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x reader

Warnings: smut

It's been a little over 4 months since you and Lewis were forced to part your ways. It's been a little over 4 months since you have not been feeling yourself.

You weren't officially in a relationship, but you both fell hard for each other, you saw a future with each other. You were his baby girl, the only woman he wanted everything with. And you, you felt the happiest ever with him, safe in his arms, in his embrace. His kisses and his soft touch were your safe haven.

But 4 months ago all of that stopped when your father found out you were seeing Lewis. Your father completely lost it when he saw Lewis' arms wrapped around your waist and his lips pressed against yours. He couldn't stand the fact that his little girl was with a man 14 years older than her. He didn't see you as the woman that you were and so for him that relationship between the two of you was unacceptable.

At that very moment he forbade you to ever see him again. He told Lewis that if he ever approached you again, he would not be held accountable for his actions. He didn't care that Lewis was a seven time world champion nor that you would be financially secure with him for the rest of your life and you would never lack for anything. In his eyes, Lewis was a slob taking advantage of a young girl, his daughter, he despised it as much as he despised him.

You tried to protest, to convince him that Lewis' intentions with you were pure, that he would never do anything to hurt you and the most important thing that you love him and that you are truly happy with him. You begged, you were desperate, but that only made him angrier so that's when he gave you an ultimatum - if you choose to be with Lewis, you can forget that you have a father. It was either Lewis or him.

Your father's lack of understanding broke your heart, and it broke Lewis to see you like that. He could handle many things, but seeing his girl suffering was not on of those things. Lewis decided that he was not going to be the guy who stood between father and daughter and destroyed their close relationship.

He was forced to make one of the hardest decisions of his life and get away from you for good. He pushed you away, pretended he didn't want to see you again even though he was dying to. Deep down you knew why he was doing it, but that didn't ease your suffering one bit.

One night you cried so much that you physically felt pain in your chest. You could no longer spend your days and nights wondering where he was, what he was doing, if he had found someone new or if he was still thinking about you. You felt like your head was going to explode from all those questions you didn't know the answers to. That's when you found yourself knocking on his door late at night.

"Y/n? What are you doing here?" He asked as he opened the door. His eyes quickly filled with worry when he saw you crying in front of his door, but little did he know that as soon as you saw him, you instantly felt better.

He was standing in front of you, shirtless, looking down at you and barely holding back from pulling you to himself.

"Lew..I can't..I can't take it anymore.." You sobbed. "Don't you dare push me away and tell me that I can't be here because I don't wanna hear it!"

His eyes softened at your words and heart hurt a little even though he felt relieved that you still felt the same way about him.

"Baby girl.." He wiped away the tears under your eyes with his thumbs before pulling you into a tight hug. The tightest one yet.

"I miss you, Lew" You whisper as you wrap your arms around his neck your eyes darting to his lips. "Don't you miss me too?" You ask tilting your head a little as he brushes the hair out of your face.

"Of course I do" He sighs leaning his forehead against yours. "Fuck, I miss you more than I thought was possible"

"Then let's not miss each other anymore. Let's put an end to this agony and be together" Your eyes pleaded.

"Y/n, I want that more than life itself, but you know it's not that simple"

"I don't care, I've had enough. I won't let anyone else decide my happiness." You stated. "It's you that I want. Maybe some people will find it hard to accept, but it's 10 times harder for me to be without you than to fight with my dad."

Your words somehow brought peace to his soul. They encouraged him to fight for you and your future because for him there was before you, but there is no after you.

"I never thought you were gonna get that much under my skin. I should be pushing you away right now, telling you you should find someone else, someone better for you. I just can't seem to.. Or I don't want to. Or maybe both."

After what felt like ages, his lips finally met yours again. The kiss wasn't soft nor gentle, it was hungry and passionate, eager for more. "Come here" He slammed the door before patting the back of your thighs to which you responded by jumping up and wrapping your legs around his waist. You never broke the kiss as he led you towards his bedroom and laid you down on the bed.

He helped you take off your clothes leaving you only in your bra and panties. He took a second to admire your body tracing his fingers over your hip bone. "You're so beautiful, baby"

You smiled at his compliment tilting your head to get a better look of him as he started leaving kisses all over your stomach. Once his lips reached the hem of your panties, he stopped for a second to look up at you while his hand caressed your leg.

"Can I kiss you here?" He asked softly.

"Please kiss me there" You quickly granted his request.

"Spread your legs for me"

He left a kiss over the lace fabric before tugging them down your legs and letting them fall to the floor. He started slowly, licking you lazily up and down your folds. You were so eager for him that you could feel your wetness trickling down your holes. You clenched your legs around his head giving him a perfect opportunity to grab your ass and bury his face deeper.

"Ahh, yes, yes" You moaned as his tongue swirled over your clit. He was changing his pace, leaving quick kitten licks and then attaching his lips to your clit and sucking on it.

You started to move too much from the pleasure that was overwhelming you so he put his hand over your stomach to keep you in place. His other hand found your entrance and the tips of his fingers started teasing you circling around it.

"Please" You pleaded.

"Please what? What do you want, baby?"

"Put your fingers in me"

The sight of you lying so spread out for him, whimpering his name, begging him for more made him grind his hips against the mattress trying to create any kind of friction to his rock hard dick.

Granting your wish he pushed his index finger in. His eyes were stuck on your parted lips and closed eyes, he loved how responsive, how obedient you were to him. You arched your back as he added another one pumping them in and out of you. It didn't take long for your legs to start shaking and squeezing around his head.

"That's it baby, cum around my fingers"

As you finished, he pulled his fingers out of you and brought them to his lips to taste you not wasting any drop as he licked them clean.

"You did so good" He said softly into your ear before he kissed you.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course"

"Have you been with anyone else since we stopped seeing each other?" You were curious. You don't know how you would react if he actually was. It would hurt you, definitely, but you'd still want him as much as you do now.

"No, baby girl, the other side of this bed belongs only to you." He smiled caressing your cheek knowing there was no other girl for him except for you.

"And what about you?"

"All yours. Only yours." He assured you once again bringing peace to your mind and heart. "Gonna prove it to you right now" He said leaving sloppy kisses down your neck. "Gonna show you how much I missed you"

Pulling down his shorts and boxers, he pressed his dick against your stomach slowly grinding himself up and down while holding his weight on his arms just above you.

Your hand slid down taking him in your hand and giving him a few strokes. Your touch made him shiver and groan in response. It was as if he was waiting for your permission.

"Fuck me, Lew" You whispered. Your hand led him to your entrance and he wasted no time pushing himself inside of you. He left kisses all over your face and stayed still so you could get used to him. Once you felt ready he started slowly thrusting in and out of you.

"You feel how hard I am for you? Only you can make me this hard, baby" You moaned at his words wrapping your arms around his neck.

"Uhh, yes baby, fuck me, fuck me hard"

"Fuck, baby, you're so dirty" Lewis got a little carried away at your prompting so he suddenly and strongly increased his pace. Your breasts spilled out of your bra as he pounded into you and he couldn't resist but to leave mark just above your nipple. "So fucking perfect"

Your brought your hands to your boobs squeezing them and playing with your nipples and the sight drove him completely crazy. It awakened the animal in him so he pulled out only to push his dick all the way inside you. You winced pushing your hand at his pelvis as he hit your deepest spot.

"You okay, baby? Want me to stop?" He asked with concern.

"No, no it's just you're so big and so deep inside" You whimpered.

"Yeah, baby? You feel me here?" He smirked putting his hand over your lower stomach. "You feel me in your stomach? Just a little more love, I'm almost there. You gonna cum with me?" You nodded as he started slowly moving again.

"Take it just like that. My good girl taking my dick so well. So pretty. Can't get enough of you." You moaned as your hand slid down your stomach adding pressure to your clit while Lewis continued fucking you.

"You gonna let me fill you up?"

"Mhm" You moaned.

"Yeah? Wanna see my cum dripping out of your pussy" The pressure in the pit of your stomach started building up again with every dirty word that left his lips. "Gonna get you full of my cum, fuck" That's all it took to push you over the edge and come undone around him. You screamed out his name and his orgasm followed yours filling you up to the brim.

Both panting, sweating, you could hardly catch your breath as a strong sense of pleasure coursed through your bodies. Still deeply immersed in you, he propped himself up on his elbows hovering over you and leaving a kiss on your cheek. "Are you okay, baby?" He asked.

"I'm more than okay" You smiled rubbing his cheek with your thumb as his eyes lit up.

"That's good to hear."

"Let's take a shower and cuddle until we fall asleep, yeah?"

"Wait, before we do that, I just wanna tell you something"

"Tell me what?"

"I love you, so much" And there it was. His first I love you to you. The first time he said it out loud even though he's showed it in so many ways already. "Wanna spend the rest of my life with you"

"I'm not going anywhere, I promise. I love you, baby."

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton fluff #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 #f1 one shot #f1 smut #f1 imagine #f1 fluff #f1 blurb

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skyrigel · 1 day

Text

Victory indeed || A.B

Pairing: Anthony bridgerton x wife!reader

Plot : You are on your way to steal the mallet of death but Anthony gets there first, change in plans— romancing lord Viscount.

Warning: NSFW content ahead!

Rigel's note🪩 : This is inspired from happily ever after, there's quite blood shed for mallet of death. Yeah Colin is love <3

Words: 2.1k Proofread

The last bits of doubt left as you shifted Anthony's arm off your waist, slowly pushing your body down and further till you were out from his grip, he almost looked innocent, sleeping and bed soft, his mouth curled in a dream like smile but you knew better than that. last time Anthony, like lord Viscount he was, stole the pallet from your wardrobe.

And the year prior, Daphne showed her Bridgerton colors, involving the Duke himself in her malice plans.

You couldn't help but smile, thinking your bridgerton were showing up too, the floor was frozen underneath your step but you thought about the victory tommorow, the look on Anthony's face would be priceless, wrapping your cloak around yourself and closing the door soundlessly as you ventured out in the corridor, the moon was high and the air was chill. If inside the Aubrey hall was cold then you weren't up for the chill outside, a shiver ran down your spine as you stepped out in the moonlight, taking the back route, just in case. The shed stood there in the bleak light. You fiddled for keys and it didn't make sense when the wooden door was unlocked, maybe Johnny forgot to lock it, anyway, all more easy. The door creaked in the silence and you couldn't care less, there was nothing between you and your victory black mallet and—

Your breath was knocked out of you as if your lungs were punctured, a gasp of white mist left your mouth at the sight of your husband, leaning idly against the wall.

" I... Anthony?! " You blinked and unblinked and he was still there, smiling.

" What are you doing here wifey ? " He cooed and it didn't help the terror that seized you.

" You knew ! " You hoped it wasn't as shaking like it felt in your throat, Anthony ran a hand through his hair and it all made sense, damn his dreamlike smile, damn you lord Viscount.

" You wound me baby, do you want me to tie you until the game tommorow, tell me, would you like that ? " He smiled all the while, faking a frown as he narrowed his eyes to your silhouette in dark.

" So you would guard the mallet all night ? " You wouldn't let Anthony win this time, it was coming on your pride now, also the love making that followed where he called you all those petty names. The last he called you runner up. No, you would win this time.

" Or I could tie you up, I like that better." Anthony suggested smugly, propping on top of the desk and flashing an erotic display of thigh, change of plans.

" My lord..." You whsipered, all seduction placed in one basket and all smugness was dropped when Anthony's lips parted.

" Do.not." he shuddered but you hit the nerve, moving slowly in your shaking steps, cloak dangling behind you.

" Anthony, these games are absurd. " You stiffled the laugh that burnt your chest, heart heaving and thudding inside your ribs.

It almost didn't work the last time you caught him stealing the mallet, Mrs.Wilson came at a very wrong time.

" It's not working." He assured, to himself mostly but his hand reached for your body all the same, betraying every word he said as he pulled you closer, face mere inches away.

He wrapped his big arms around your waist and cocked your head sideways.

" What about..." You paused, bumping your nose to his cheeks as he sniffed the moon shadow out of you, his lips tried to claim yours but you liked playing games. The ones you could win.

" About what ? " He asked breathless, his long slender fingers undoing the knot in frantic rushed movements. It was no use.

" I was thinking about...we don't have a daughter." You hoped nothing was drowned in the moan that left when Anthony bit at the junction of your neck and shoulder, he looked up with a glint, it was the most sincere set of eyes you had ever seen, also the lustiest.

Anthony could do both, have you screaming his name and worship you all the same.

" Take the mallet...take everything baby. " He kissed you, hard and crashing, like he couldn't get enough, you couldn't get enough and it became too restless for games and victory. Your body oozed with goosebumps and every single thought evaporated like mist and memories.

Anthony dropped the knot and pulled the cloak up from your head and you easily gave in, throwing your hands up as the satin fabric fell on the floor. Anthony hummed in desire.

You felt the cold air circling your body but as soon as Anthony's mouth kissed the exposed skin of you breast, it was gone, nothing mattered than him and his filthy demanding mouth.

" How beautiful you would look with our baby in your belly." He whispered against your skin and you shivered at the sensation.

His palm gripped your hips and lifted you on the desk, turning the dynamics and you cursed under your breath when his unholy fingers pinched your nipple, hard and raw.

" You like that ? " He breathed, undoing buttons of your nightdress like he was made for it, he was merciless sometimes, taking pleasure when you screamed his name and teasing you later, " so needy for me baby ? "

" An.. Anthony." You hoped he heard the plea, his thumb made circles in your inner thigh but never touching where you wanted him the most, " baby.." you buried your face in the crook of his neck and even so, you could hear the smile that crossed him, cocky and devilish.

" Say it wifey, say it nicely with your sweet mouth." He grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you back to face him, eyes locked as his head leaned down, his darted his tongue, pink and wet, the wonders he could did with that, he licked your one nipple while the other was tucked between his two fingers, pressing them together and you screamed, almost embarrassed but Anthony liked that, he always did.

" What's the word ? " He looked up smugly, pressing the tip of his nose to your nip, a smile quirking up. Fuck you Anthony!

Your brain short circuited as he tickled more and more and it became too much to bear.

" Plea... please baby, please, please —" he heard the plea and his mouth opened, taking in your soft flesh and humming in delight, kneading the other so it didn't miss his attention. He wasn't biased when it came to your body, giving everything his full attention and torment. You threw your head back at the sensation that vibratated in your body.

You grabbed his hand that glided on your bare thigh to guide him to touch you where you needed him the most, his teeth nibbed, not harder but enough to make your eyes watery as he slapped your hand away.

" You get the mallet, I get what I want, win win Viscountess." He kissed your cheek open mouthed and his desire was pressing hard against you.

" Fuck me." You said, flushed and dazed and Anthony eye's widened before he was back to play all lord and smug.

" You always order me so." He bit his lower lip but you had enough, fuck pall mall, fuck Anthony bridgerton, yes fuck him. Now.

" Fuck me Anthony! " You almost cried, Anthony leaned further, his forehead touching yours as he whispered,

" I wouldn't be able to sto—" don't stop, then.

You kissed him hard and soft, like fireworks wrecking your brain and you tongue traced his lower lip, intoxication wasted you.

He moaned and a strangled noise that you trapped in your mouth escaped, right from his throat.

His length was pressed against your thigh and it was warm and vibrating. You swallowed like a Virgin damsel.

Anthony looked at you, not breaking the fire that was blazing between your souls as he pulled it out his erection and there, angry red tip, sticky with pre cum was buzzing to be touched and loved and he looked up in delight when your eyes widened, all of the times, it didn't matter, it baffled you just the same.

You touched the tip and he shivered at the contact, his cock gave a twist and lurked fir more.

" Do you see ? " He was panting, shaking with his words as if he would fall if he didn't hold his breath, " see it ?! How much I burn for you, how much I want you ? " He shaked his head and touched his tip to your belly, soft and burning.

" No." He laughed humourlessly, his hand pushing your body to lie down on your back and you followed, taking a huge breath as Anthony grabbed your dangling ankle in a yank, bringing it around his neck.

He then kissed your knuckles softly, whsipering sweet nothings tenderly in your bones.

" I would give you anything my sweet love, you just have to ask...mallet ? I would give you my soul if you had asked. Anything for my baby love " He said, you felt your body tremor as he teased his tip at your insides, Anthony inhaled sharply as he entered you, warm and slick as oil. he entwined your fingers together.

" So good...so good for me baby." He moaned as he soft thrusted once, twice and until you were numb for anything, his words were halo in the dark, beaming silvery glow and then came one hard push and you arched your back as the pain waved in pleasure.

" Anthony..." You moaned, " oh god ! " Your words mingled in blasphemy and Anthony smiled in victory, pushing harder and harder as your hips rocked and roll.

" Say my name...say it." He demanded, your nails gripping at his shoulder so hard that it would scar, he liked it.

" Anthony...oh lord... Anthony." You screamed and chanted and you believed he heard the worship, the fate you had in him, and it didn't matter if anyone listened, let them, you thought, Anthony was a force to be reckoned with, a storm you never minded to be wrecked in. A beak of sweat glided from his forehead and dropped on your belly.

He was still pushing in a angle that had you seeing stars and cosmic love, he bend down, licking it, tongue gliding across your skin, and sniffing, taking in everything your offered.

He wanted all of you.

" I will fill you up with our baby, next time don't go hunting for mallet in midnight...it's so cold Darling, i would have to tie you up," He kissed your stomach bump, " and would carry you around everywhere." He said in dreamily haze that soon took over your lids.

The only sounds were erotic slapping of skin against skin and shuddering breaths, and he fastened his movements as a war cry took him over like a devil.

You head was thrown back as everything collapsed and grew again, bit by bit. Your eyelids drooped and a muffled cry came from you and then it was Anthony as he came in warm fizzy juice. Your felt the knot inside you uncoil and something loose inside you, uncorked as your juices mingled like your souls.

He pushed one more time, he always did that and then he collapsed next to you, satisfied, kissing your already bruised neck sweetly.

" Wouldn't you like that mama ? " He chorused and you laughed like a drunk, you would, a daughter with Anthony's eyes and smile, you smiled at the thought.

" Let's clean you up and take you to bed my lady." Anthony picked you, kissing you again as you giggled, he then grabbed the cloak and covered your body against the cold, you were dazed but not quite forgotten, you eyes searched for the war prize. Your mouth fell open, second time in a very same night.

" Where's the mallet ? " You narrowed your eyes at the stock of pink and blue and yellow but the black wasn't there, perhaps a trick of light.

Anthony followed your eyes and went closer, your arms wrapped around his shoulder and there, beneath the shadows was a parchment, rich and fresh.

Anthony picked it up with one hand, the other keeping you steady in his arms.

You saw the lanky words that belonged to none other than Mr. Bridgerton.

" Damn you Colin! " You growled as the mockful apology was scribbled for stealing the black mallet.

Anthony perched his lips at the heist but smiled when your whining eyes met his.

" I am going to whoop his ass and get you the mallet baby." He said, and you knew he will.

Victory indeed.

_________________________________________

Uhm Benedict bridgerton next ? Send in request ladies <3

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fallingfor-fics · 1 day

Note

Can you please do a one shot of like the abbot crew going out to a gay bar. Melissa and Y/N are secretly dating, and a girl from a different group approaches Melissa but doesn’t no how to take no for an answer. Leading to Y/N stepping in and a bar fight breaks out between the two and the groups they came with. Ending the night with Melissa and Barbara bailing Y/N and the rest of the abbot crew out and Melissa falling in even more love with Y/N for defending her. Maybe some smut if your feeling up to it…I had a dream about it…please and thank youuu😋🫶🏽

Sorry this took so long!

I didnt do it exactly how you asked but I hope you like it still!!

Cat Fight - Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Word count: 5k

Warnings: bar fight, dubcon, all around smut, sex on the kitchen counter without wiping it down first

Summary: basically the ask but no jail time is served lol

Every time you went out with Melissa you always had a blast, you would drink, dance, and talk deep into the night about endless things, and then go home with her. It was one of your favorite weekend activities. This outing was different though because you were being joined by Janine, Jacob, Barbara, and Gregory-- quite the bunch to be tagging along to one of the more popular but casual LGBT bars downtown. You don't even know how it happened but here you were, sitting at the bar squeezed between Jacob and Gregory, sneaking glances at Melissa from two seats down. It's not like you were having a bad time, conversation was fun with the group, and you loved hanging out with them, but weekends were sacred. These short two days were reserved for Melissa since you couldn't express affection all week at school, and rarely spent the night together during the week. But alas, you were cracking jokes to pass the time, and admiring your beautiful girlfriend from afar.

“I just think its funny that Gregory has been hit on more times tonight by other guys than Jacob has.” Barbara says as she stirs her drink. This causes a laugh from the group but an eye roll from Jacob, and Gregory can be seen shaking his head.

“Well that's what happens when you buy a drink for a guy.” You said smiling and taking a sip.

“Ok for the last time, I didn't know it was a guy, he had very pretty hair.” he laughed and everyone started to giggle along. You could hear Melissas laugh above all the rest and it warmed your heart. You turned to face the bartender to order a shot, hoping it would keep your mind off her. You had been hiding your relationship for months so you weren't sure why tonight was becoming so difficult and mentally draining. Maybe it was the bar, the place you two always went to and got to be yourselves, or maybe it was just because she wasn't looking at you as much as you were her. Melissa wasn't oblivious to the glances you were sending her way, but she knew better than to allow her eyes to linger a little too long on yours with Barbara and Jacob sitting right there. She was using every ounce of her will power to remain cool and casual.

“I'm getting another. Does anyone want one?” You ask looking around and everyone but Janine and Melissa, who were driving, nodded in agreement.

“Great. Another round please sweetheart!” you say with a smile to the woman behind the bar and she nods, grabbing the shot glasses. You can feel Melissa's eyes on you and you know it's because of your over-kindness and endearing name you gave to the bartender, but you don't look in her direction and instead try to distract yourself by making conversation with Jacob.

The shots are lined up in front of you and you all say cheers before downing them, you make eye contact with Melissa when you are setting your glass back down and you feel your heart hurt. It's definitely the liquor mixed with general missing her, but you feel another wave of dread come over you. You look to the bartender and tap the shot glass to signal for her to pour another. You can feel Melissa giving you a concerned look but you ignore it. Jacob, Janine, and Gregory get up to go dance and you decide to join them, taking your shot and setting it down, glancing at Melissa and heading to follow them. Melissa watches as you walk to the dance floor with a slight sway in your step and lets out a small sigh. She knows how hard it is for both of you to keep this up sometimes, but it still slightly frustrates her how much you let it affect you on nights like these, when you do things like this in front of her knowing she can't step in to stop you. But she knows you're a grown woman and can handle yourself, so she just watches from the bar, listening to Barb rant about something.

You are tipsy enough to dance confidently but without embarrassing yourself, you still have a mixed drink in hand so you are conscious of not spilling that, and you don't want to look too trashy with your dancing. You also know Melissa has to be watching you now, so you sway your hips and pull out all the moves that you can do casually but you know will be keeping her eyes glued to you. You make light conversation over the music with the others when suddenly you hear a gasp from Jacob.

“Oh my god guys look, Ms. Schemmenti has a womanly caller.” he snides and everyone looks over with a grin, you turn to look as well and sure enough a skanky looking woman has walked over to Melissa and is standing very close talking to her.

“I didn't even know she had game like that.” Gregory claims after the woman starts laughing at something Melissa says. You roll your eyes but the group, being nosey as always, casually dances closer to the bar.

“I mean she's hot but I didn't know she could pull women in a place like this.” Jacob says and they all nod. The group knew you were queer, but Melissa’s previous marriage and overall life confidence kept them from questioning her own sexuality. This fact aided in hiding your relationship and Melissa didn't seem to mind. You can't take your eyes off the scene. The woman is dressed in a body con bright blue dress with cutouts. She should be at a rave in an outfit like that, you think as you take a sip of your drink with a bitter glare.

“So how about you let me buy you a drink?” the woman says with a smile as she twirls her hair.

“Thanks, but I'm still working on mine.” Melissa smiles politely as she gestures to her beer in hand.

“Haha you’re funny! Okay what about shots? On me of course!” the woman tries again and you feel your cheeks grow hot at the way the woman is shamelessly checking Melissa out, taking her in from head to toe. She then reaches up to play with Melissa's hair and you feel yourself stumble a bit as you zone out on her fingers touching Melissa's red hair. Hair that should only have fingers tangled in it if they were your own. You refrained from crushing the cup in your hand as you felt your skin get warm. It was no secret you were an incredibly jealous person, you two had even had this conversation when watching Moulin Rouge one night. You had told Melissa that the representation of love and jealousy in that movie was the perfect example of how you feel in deep relationships. You knew she could feel your gaze burning holes through the blonde that stood next to her

“Look I appreciate the offer, but really I'm okay.” Melissa declined once more and you watched as you finished the rest of your drink and walked back to the bar to get another. Melissa saw you and watched as you talked to the bartender. Barbara stood between you and Melissa and you avoided looking over at her until you had another shot in you at least. You then heard the woman speak up again in her agitating valley accent and rolled your eyes, deciding if you walked away it may have more of an effect on Melissa than if you stood around seething. You walked back to the others and kept dancing but made sure you could still see Melissa. Barbara left the bar to go to the bathroom and you felt a slight instinct to keep a stronger eye on Melissa in case that woman tried anything. You and Melissa made eye contact as you danced and your heart began to race as you couldn't help a small smile form when seeing her sparkling eyes look into yours. She grinned and then looked back over to the woman.

“How about a dance then?” the woman smirks.

“I don't think my girlfriend will like that very much.” she says and this catches your attention, it was loud enough for you to hear, but the music and singing crowd allowed it to go unheard by the others. You don't stop swaying your hips gently to the music, but you focus in on their conversation again.

“Haha and who is your girlfriend?” the woman says with a cocky tone.

Melissa gestures to you with a smile, and you look the woman up and down with a glare, looking at Melissa and then back to the other woman.

“Well I don't see much, I can handle her.” she hums and you stop dancing and straighten up as she turns to face you.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you.” Melissa scoffs at the woman.

“Awe, why? Are you worried you might end up enjoying a night with me far more than whatever this loose little girl could ever offer you?” she quips and you feel your fists clench as you make your way over. Melissa straightens up and crosses her arms prepared to defend you when you chime in first.

“Are you dense? She's clearly not interested.” you mutter to the woman who laughs and Melissa smiles.

“No, Y/n it's fine she was just leaving.” Melissa says trying to keep the conversation from escalating.

“Actually, if your girlfriend here really liked you why wouldn't she be out there dancing with you instead of sitting here talking to me?” the woman said with a grin and you shook your head. You knew you couldn't say much and draw the attention of the others but this woman was really getting under your skin for some reason. You saw Barbara coming back from the bathroom and bit your tongue, rolling your eyes and letting out a sigh.

“Look, just do yourself a favor and walk away.” Melissa said to the woman and she shook her head.

“No not after an ugly bitch like her called me stupid!”

The group on the dance floor heard that and all came over to observe, drawing more attention to your friends and now the woman's own friends came to see what was happening.

“Lex what's going on?” one of her friends asked and she scoffed.

“This whore just called me stupid.” Lex said, clearly very drunk as she slurred her words, and probably under the influence of a little more than alcohol.

“Woah woah woah lets not over react, this isn't the place for this ladies how about you walk away and we all just enjoy our nights.” Gregory spoke up.

“Nah mind your own business asshole! This is between me and this fucking bitch.” Lex slurred out while doing loud hand gestures.

You sighed and could feel your face growing flushed and you ran a hand through your hair as you tried to just ignore the woman. It was one thing to call you names, you could be the bigger person and walk away with that, but people being a dick to your friends is not something you care about maintaining decorum for. Still you took a deep breath and turned to get a drink, but you felt a hand shove your shoulder.

“Yeah walk away like a pussy, leave your girlfriend to a real woman.” Lex mocked and you let out a sigh before realizing you were now drunk enough to use that as an excuse for the following action. Disregarding the comment that left the group slightly confused you turned, grabbing Melissa's beer from her hand, and tossing it on the girls hideous blue dress.

“Oh shit.” You heard Jacob and Janine remark from behind you.

“Y/n, hon come on, I think it's time we go guys.” Melissa said, reaching to grab your arm to lead you out but the woman reaches up to slap you but you reach out and grab her hair instead. In a blink of an eye the whole bar is now staring at the both of you as exclamations can be heard from both groups and Melissa is yelling every swear she can conjure up as her and Gregory are trying to get you off the other woman. You had her by the hair still and went to throw another punch until you felt a large pair of arms grab you around the stomach and pull you back, another large man grabs the other woman and you realize it's the bar's security guys. You hear your friends all yell at security to put you down, and he yells back and tells them they all have to leave or they are gonna call the cops. Barbara is the first one to pay off the tab and lead everyone out.

“Have some decorum and just get outside!” She orders the group and they gather their things and listen. You don't put up a fight, but security still has a firm grip on your arms and is practically dragging you outside.

“Okay Jesus I dont think this is necessary she's listening!” Melissa yells at the large man who just ignores her. He roughly lets go of you once you're outside and Melissa stabilizes you with gentle hands on your arm and hip. Eventually you are all waiting on the sidewalk as Janine goes to pull up her car.

“Ok so that was wild.” Jacob mutters after an awkward silence. You lean against the wall of the building and sigh, Melissa looking over at you then back to the others.

“Yeah what happened exactly? And why did that crazy lady call you her girlfriend?” Gregory asked and you didn't have the energy to say anything, or even look up at any of them.

“Um. That lady wasn't taking a hint, so Y/n came to tell her to back off, and I guess she got the wrong idea, and things just escalated.” Melissa muttered as a cover. Since you had been so good at hiding things up until this point they all nodded without a doubt. Janine pulled up and Gregory and Jacob got in. You didn't move from your place on the wall and Melissa looked over at you then back to the others.

“Barb you go ahead with them, I'll drive Y/n home tonight since it’s on my way.” Melissa said with a concerned voice and Barbara smiled.

“Okay, I will see you ladies at school on Monday.” Barbara said before getting in. the rest of the group waved and Janine drove away. Leaving you and Melissa on the sidewalk. You still hadn't looked up or said a word. Your legs were getting tired from standing against the wall, and your cheeks felt slightly numb from the chilly air. You could feel your lip was bleeding but was pretty sure that was the only damage besides a slightly bruised ego. Melissa came to stand next to you, poking at your arm.

“Are you ready to go, hon?” she said softly and you didn’t say anything. You finally looked up at her and she saw the blood dripping from your pouted lips and a faint red mark on your face that was slowly disappearing.

“Baby your lip-” she went to wipe the blood but you cut her off.

“I'm sorry.” you muttered simply.

Taken aback she shook her head with furrowed brows, “For what?”

“For making a scene, getting us kicked out-- almost having the group find out… all because of my fragile ego.” you scoffed hearing yourself and looked down to play with your fingers.

“Sweetheart, don't be sorry for any of that! I have never had someone, that wasn't family, literally fight a person for me.” She said playfully, using her hand to gently lift your chin. “I mean you did that because you care about me and your friends, not because you're fragile.”

You shook your head in response and opened your mouth to mutter another comment, but she stopped you with a kiss. She cupped your face with her hands gently, and softly kissed your lips with an underlying passion, being cautious of your busted lip, and stroking your cheek with her thumb. She pulled away with sparkling eyes and a grin which you met with a larger smile before reaching for her jacket to pull her into you again. You kissed her deeply ignoring the slight pain it caused, and ran your hand up her body to cup her cheek. Your breathing grew heavy as Melissa pushed you into the wall with her hips and you opened your mouth slightly allowing her to take over. Her tongue ran over your lip, she could taste the blood from your cut and the liquor on your breath, but she still deepened the kiss by letting her tongue enter your mouth and dance around your own. You eventually pulled away to catch your breath and you rested your forehead against hers as you shut your eyes and played with her hair. You had almost forgotten how much you had to drink until you stumbled slightly and she instinctively grabbed your waist.

“I love you Y/n, and tonight only proved to me just how much I do” she spoke softly in her velvety voice and you smiled innocently with a red stained lip. She brushed over it with her thumb, and then stood up straight.

“I love you too.” You said simply before feeling your eyes get tired.

“Cmon, we are getting you home.” She said with a laugh and you nodded, allowing her to take your hand and walk you to her car.

You knocked out the whole drive back, Melissa's hand placed on your thigh the whole way. She tapped it gently when you arrived and you opened your eyes to see you were at her house and you looked at her with a smile.

“What? You didn't think I was just going to leave you alone at your place did you?” she mocked you with love and you laughed, getting out of the car and following her inside.

“I think the nap in the car was exactly what I needed because I feel much better now.” You said smiling at her as you hopped up on the kitchen counter.

“Oh really? Well drink this whole glass of water and then we will see.” She said handing you a cup she filled from the fridge. She kept her eyes on yours as you drank it and she took off your shoes for you, placing them on the floor before kicking off her own. You finished the glass and placed it down as she turned to face you again. You grabbed her by her waist and pulled her to you, running your hands through her hair and admiring her beauty.

“Don't look at me like that baby.” She said in a deep tone, her eyes full of a serious yet lustful gleam as she moved her hands to rest on the counter on either side of you.

“Like what?” you smiled, not moving your hands from her, tangling in her hair, running over her shoulders and arms, and then back to tuck her hair behind her ears.

“Like you want to fuck me.” she said firmly with a grin. You were surprised she didn't hesitate to call you out and this sent a chill down your spine.

“Well, what's so wrong with that?” you teased, leaning in closer so you were inches from her face, your eyes darting between her dark green ones.

“The issue is how sexy it is but I'm not one for coercion.” She replies, moving to push herself away, but you grabbed her by the belt loops of her jeans and pulled her closer so her torso was between your legs and against the counter. You draped your arms over her shoulders and hovered your lips over hers, teasing her with a gentle peck to the lips. You pulled back slightly with a grin and she stared at you lovingly.

“Its not coercion if I want it and i'm barely even tipsy.” you say with a smile.

“Please Melissa, I just risked my life for you and I need to feel you.” You said with dramatics and a hint of sarcasm.

“Ha, now who is doing the coercing!” She laughed and you shook your head.

“Not coercion, I’m begging you,” you whined before pushing her away slightly so you could slink off the counter and onto your knees on the cold kitchen tile. “I'm literally on my knees for you… mommy.” You said with a grin, looking up at her with shining eyes. She smiled and let out a scoff. Your hands slid up the side of her legs, slowly over her thighs until you got to the button of her pants, causing her to suck in a breath before looking into your eyes again. You could see the internal battle she had and before you could unbutton her pants, she grabbed your hands and pulled you up to her. She pulled you in by your waist and kissed you deeply, letting out the breath she’d been holding in as she ran her hands down your waist to grab your ass. You moaned into the kiss and pressed your torso against hers. When you pulled away to catch your breath she smirked at you and sucked in her lip.

“Okay but no taking care of me tonight, it's all about you baby.” She said, finding a compromise for her decision and you grinned, slightly upset you wouldn't be able to make her feel good.

“Anything you say.” You nodded desperately and she let out a beautiful laugh before backing away and grabbing your hips to push you up against the counter. She kissed you again and your hands found her cheeks as you deepened the kiss with force. She ran her hands down your back and grabbed under your thighs to lift you onto the counter, not breaking the kiss. You groaned from the smooth execution and she smiled into the kiss. She pulled away and looked you in the eyes as she pushed your skirt up to your waist and pulled your panties off. You played with her hair as she did so and then felt your thighs squeeze together at the cold air and the way she was looking you up and down.

“God you're stunning Melissa.” You said with a shaky breath as her hand pushed between your thighs and brushed your core with slow motions.

“I could say the same thing about you hon, now be a good girl and lay back.” She said in a deep and sensual tone. You quickly nodded, leaning in for another deep kiss, pushing your chest against hers, cupping her cheek with your hand. You allowed your tongue to enter her mouth and kissed her with passion. She smiled into the kiss at your eagerness and she pulled away, raising her eyebrow at you and you placed another peck to her lips before doing as you were told. You pushed your hair out from under you to be laid out on the counter and allowed yourself to relax slightly. You felt her hands bend your knees and place your feet on the edge of the counter to give her better access. The cold air caused your skin to prickle with small goosebumps and you felt your heart speed up as you awaited her touch. She traced her hands gently up and down your thighs before placing kisses along the inside of them. Her cold fingers came up to rub your clit and your body twitched, sensitive from being deprived for so long. You slightly leaned into her touch but the limited space on the counter kept you from doing so.

“Just relax baby, I want you to be able to remember how good I treated you when you wake up tomorrow.” she said with a cocky grin that you could practically feel. She leaned in and licked a stripe up your folds without hesitation. Collecting your slick on her tongue before lightly sucking on your bud. You let out a moan and she gripped your thighs tighter to keep them in place as she continued to suck on your clit, licking circles around it. She moved a hand from your thigh to her mouth, placing two fingers in her mouth before rubbing your clit and then inserting them into you. You let out a hoarse gasp and she gently curled her fingers inside you, moving her head back down to continue torturing your clit. You arched your back off the counter and moaned at the new angle and she hummed into you causing you to moan again.

“Fuck, Melissa!” You exclaimed, letting your hand come to her hair, brushing it from her face. She felt you clench around her fingers and held back a grin at how ready you were for her already. She thrusted her fingers harder, stroking inside of you and hitting your sensitive spot. Never taking her lips off your core, her tongue running over your clit before she continued to suck on it. You let out another loud moan and your free hand came to your mouth so you could bite on your knuckles, your eyes closing shut tight.

“No baby move your hand I wanna hear you scream as you cum for me.” she said, not stopping her thrusts.

“Ah, ok- yes mommy.” you gasped out, tugging on her hair slightly, earning a deep groan from Melissa that you could feel. Your juices covered her face and hand now and you felt yourself clenching around her. You arched off the counter again and she brought her other hand off your thigh to rub your clit so she could talk you through your release.

“That’s it my love, you're doing so good, cum for me hon.” She said, smiling down at you with dark eyes. You felt your release wash over you at the praise and your body shook as your orgasm flooded through you and you clenched around her fingers. Your mind went dark as you moaned loudly, fire spreading through your veins. As you caught your breath you opened your eyes. Melissa pulled her fingers from you and you used the little strength you had to try and sit up. She snaked her hand around your back to pull you up to her and you met her with a smile and flushed cheeks. She lifted her fingers to your mouth and you took them in without hesitation, tasting yourself on her.

“You did so good for me baby.” She muttered in her deep, raspy voice, pulling her fingers from your mouth and back down to your center to sooth your sensitive clit.

“I love you.” You said with a smile.

“I love you too.” She said simply and you leaned in to kiss her gently, looking in her eyes as you placed a peck to her lips. She took your lower lip between her teeth and you winced. She pulled away with a sarcastic grin and furrowed brows.

“Oh i'm sorry sweetheart, did I hurt your lip?” she brushed her thumb over the cut that was now bleeding slightly again.

“A little. But its okay,” you said not taking your eyes from hers as you moved her hand to rub circles on your core slowly. “I liked it.” you added and she raised a brow. Moving to kiss her again she moved her head back slightly and thrusted her fingers back inside you without warning, she watched with a grin as your face contorted in pleasure. Your brows furrowed and your lip pouted.

“Give me one more.” she ordered and you nodded, leaning to kiss her again but she pulled back, teasing you once more as her fingers moved inside you. The angle allowed her to curl into you deeply and you let out a gasp, her thumb brushed your clit in circles and you felt your second orgasm approaching rapidly.

“Yes, mommy please don't stop.” you muttered breathlessly and she smirked, moving her fingers faster. You clenched around her and felt heat pool in your core as your orgasm approached.

“Look at me baby.” She said and you met her gaze, furrowed brows and your mouth open in an ‘o’ shape as you moaned. Your legs shook slightly and you felt your thighs move to clench together and she didn't stop you. You sat up straight which allowed her fingers to reach deeper inside you and you gasped. Her eyes were full of lust and mischief as she looked into your pleading ones. Your eyes shifted to her puffy pink lips and you looked back in her eyes, silently begging.

“Please kiss me Melissa.” you begged, your release approaching. She gave in and kissed you deeply, watching as your eyes closed and you moaned into the kiss. Her fingers sped up and she deepened the kiss, her tongue roaming around your mouth with passion and control. Your eyes squeezed tight as you felt the wave of relief crash over you and you moaned into the kiss, your hands moving to wrap around her face, cupping her jaw so there wasn't a chance she could pull away. She allowed her fingers to slow and you grinded against them as you rode out you high. Her other hand came to grip your waist, her thumb pushing into your hip. You finally pulled away and your foreheads met as you both caught your breath.

“I'm so proud of you hon.” she said with a smile and you gently nodded.

“I'm definitely going to remember this.” you quipped and she let out a laugh before pulling you off the counter, your legs wrapping around her and her hands holding you by your thighs as she carried you.

“Let's get you cleaned up and into bed.” she said sweetly into your ear and you allowed your glorious lover to carry you up the stairs and to her bedroom.

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa x reader #abbott elementary #melissa schemmenti #lisa ann walter

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mrsbuckybarnes1917 · 14 hours

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13: NEW BEGINNINGS

Previous chapter < MASTERLIST > Next chapter

You and Bucky are finally able to admit your feelings to each other.

Word count 3.4k

Warnings: confessions of love, Sam being the best wingman (pun intended)

It had been a long and difficult week, filled with painful rehab sessions and slow progress. But finally, you were starting to feel more like yourself again. Your voice was still weak from disuse, but you were delighted to hear that the doctors were ready to remove your tracheostomy tube. It was a small victory, but it meant that you were one step closer to recovery.

Despite the progress, you found yourself getting tired easily and napping often. It was frustrating, but you knew that it was all part of the healing process. The physiotherapists had refused to let you wear the speaking valve after they discovered that you had some trouble the previous night, rendering you speechless for the day.

What worried you more was the fact that Bucky, who had been by your side throughout your ordeal, seemed to be spending less and less time with you. You couldn't help but wonder where he went when he wasn't with you. Old insecurities started to resurface, and you found yourself questioning whether Bucky's feelings for you had changed now that you were getting better. The tenderness and care that he had shown you in the beginning seemed to be fading, and it left you feeling lost and confused.

As time ticked on, you couldn't shake the feeling that Bucky was pulling away from you. You suspected that he was going to see Priya, after all, she had made it abundantly clear she wouldn't give him up. The thoughts had you rebuilding the barriers that had come tumbling down after your injury.

Sam was by your bedside this afternoon. Listening to him chatter about Cass and AJ's most recent antics. He chuckled at the reason that Cass had received detention, but you had zoned out and looked surprised when Sam started laughing.

He looked at you with concern filling his beautiful brown eyes. “What's up with you? Not feeling good?”

“Sorry,” you mouthed at him.

“What's wrong, little bug?”

You pulled out your phone and sent him a text. It took a moment for Sam to understand that you had sent the message to him.

“Oh right. Thought you were ignoring me for a second there,” he chuckled, reading the words on his screen.

>>>> I'm okay, just tired.

“Tired, huh? And here I thought you might be lamenting over a certain broody super soldier.”

You gave him a solid deadpan stare, before your eyes involuntarily flicked towards the door, as though the mere mention of him might summon his presence.

>>>> I thought things were better but…

What you wanted to say was ‘I can't shake this feeling that Bucky’s pulling away from me.’

“What do you mean?” Sam asked.

>>>> He's been spending less and less time with me.

You stopped yourself from adding ‘and I can't help but think he's going to see Priya.’ To your surprise, Sam texted you in return.

Sam << Have you talked to him about it?

>>>> No. How do I even bring it up? He’s with her, right?

Your mind said ‘he's choosing her over me.’

Sam dropped his phone with exasperation. “Cricket, that's not true! Bucky loves you more than anything else in the world.”

You rolled your eyes.

>>>> How do you know?

“Because he told me. Isn’t that good enough?”

>>>> I don't know if I can believe that unless it comes from him.

“You need to talk to him. Communication is key in any relationship.”

>>>> You sound like an online therapy programme.

Sam guffawed.

“Honestly, I'm kinda surprised by how quickly you forgave him for all the shit he gave you. I mean don't get me wrong, I'm glad you two are friends again but...”

You were surprised by Sam's openness. Natasha and May felt the same way, you were sure, but it was shocking to hear it from Sam who was usually more of a diplomat. It wasn't as though you hadn't thought about all the things that had happened between you, but you couldn't seem to let him go.

>>>> I was scared, Sam

>>>> And he was there and I…

You pressed send, even though you didn't know how to express the sentiment. Despite everything that had happened between you, you still craved his presence in your life. Sam put a comforting hand on your leg.

>>>> I thought I was going to die

>>>> I know, I know. Being an Avenger and being scared of death. Dumb, huh?

>>>> Even after everything, the thing that scared me more was that I might never see him again

>>>> I just don't want to push him away again

“I'm all for team Bucket but I think he has some groveling to do. But trust me, he won't go anywhere.”

You scrunched your face in confusion and mouthed ‘team Bucket’ at Sam.

“You know, Bucky and Cricket, it's a ship name. Look, that was all Tony!” Sam shrugged as you giggled silently. “Just talk to him, okay?”

>>>> Okay, I'll try. Thank you, Sam

“Anytime. Just remember, Bucky cares about you more than you know.”

>>>> I hope you're right. Thank you for being here for me

“Always. Now tell me you’ll talk to Bucky. Everything will work out, I promise.”

>>>> I will. Promise

Sam looked up from his phone to see you holding out your pinky finger for Sam to wrap his around. As you sealed your pinky promise, Sam kissed you on the forehead. “Now get some sleep, you look like you need it.”

As you opened your eyes the following morning, you saw Bucky was back at your bedside. He looked tired and worried, and there was a hint of relief in his eyes as he saw you wake up. Clearly he had come back the previous day, but you had fallen asleep before his arrival. He handed you the speaking valve for you to clip onto your tracheostomy tube.

"Why’re you still here, Bucky? Everything’s fine, you should go home and get some rest," you said, voice filled with concern.

"Trying to get rid of me?" he teased, a cheeky grin gracing his lips and lighting up his tired features.

You rolled your eyes, suppressing a smile. "Mostly because you look homeless right now," you replied.

Bucky chuckled. "Peachy. I give your voice back and it’s straight to the insults."

"Hey, you know you love me!" Your eyes shone with affection.

Bucky blushed and smiled. "Can’t deny that," he admitted.

“Really Buck, you don't have to stay. It's not your responsibility. I'm a big girl, I have to learn to take care of myself,” you said softly, your voice tinged with sadness.

Bucky shifted uncomfortably, his eyes avoiding yours. “You know, you and Steve are exactly the same. He used to say that to me a lot after his mom died,” he observed, finally meeting your gaze.

You nodded, understanding dawning in your eyes. “Yeah, he has a hard time accepting help,” you agreed, a small smile playing on your lips.

“But I'm here for you, Cricket. I want to help you through this,” Bucky said earnestly, taking a step closer to you.

You looked at him, your heart torn between wanting to believe him and the fear of being hurt again. Bucky had let you down before, and you couldn't bear the thought of going through that pain once more.

"What, when you feel like it?" you asked, your tone bitter with the hurt and disappointment you had been feeling.

Bucky's expression fell, and he looked down, shame coloring his cheeks. You could see the regret in his eyes, and a part of you softened at the sight.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," you said sadly, feeling the weight of your emotions pressing down on you.

But then, Bucky looked up, determination shining in his eyes. "Cricket, I promise you, I will always be here for you. Always," he vowed, reaching out to take your hand in his.

You hesitated, unsure if you could trust his words. "Except when you're mad," you pointed out, your voice tinged with skepticism.

Bucky sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Do you even know why I was angry?" he asked, his tone pleading for understanding.

"Because I didn't get you a dumb birthday gift?" you replied, feeling a mix of frustration and confusion.

Bucky shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Cricket, why’re you like this?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for an answer.

"Like what?" you countered, feeling a surge of defensiveness rising within you.

"You've been lying to me for months," Bucky stated, his voice gentle but firm.

You felt a lump form in your throat, the weight of your secrets pressing down on you. "I don't know what you want me to say," you admitted, feeling vulnerable and exposed.

"What's going on in that head of yours? Just help me understand what you're feeling," Bucky urged, his gaze filled with concern and a hint of frustration.

Bucky's heart sank as he watched you avoid his gaze, preferring to fiddle with the strings on your hospital gown. He had never seen you like this before, so vulnerable and distant. He knew he had to get to the bottom of what was troubling you, no matter how difficult it may be.

Bucky reached out and gently lifted your chin, forcing you to look at him. "Cricket, please talk to me. I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong," he pleaded.

Taking a deep breath, you let go of your defenses and allowed yourself to be vulnerable with Bucky. "I’m sad," you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes.

Bucky took your hands in his. “That’s good… that you’re telling me this, not that you’re sad. Can you tell me what’s making you sad?”

“That things aren’t like they used to be… with us.

“And this is because of Priya?” he asked, cautiously.

You nod, taking a deep shuddering breath, knowing that if he asked you a direct question, the truth would come out and it terrified you. But you’d been hiding it for too long and it was eating you alive.

“You don’t like her?”

“I didn’t have any specific problem with her… up until your birthday.”

“Yeah, I can understand that.”

You looked up at him curiously.

“I found the gift you got me.” Bucky moved closer to you, so he was sitting beside you on the bed, still holding your hand. “And I read the note.”

“Yeah?” Your heart was pounding with fear and anticipation.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “What you wrote… I… I don't think anyone has ever done anything so special for me before?”

“What, not even Steve coming to Azzano to break you out of a Nazi prison?” you joked, trying to divert attention from yourself.

Bucky chuckled. “Stop deflecting.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Pop Psychology. Who suddenly gave you a masters degree in psychotherapy?”

“What you said… did you mean it?”

You frowned, not a hundred percent sure of what he meant.

“In the message on the birthday card,” he clarified seeing your confusion.

“Every word,” you answered earnestly.

“I’m sorry for what happened… with Priya.”

“That wasn’t your fault,” you shrugged.

“But I was the one so ready to believe that you didn’t care about me. After everything we’ve been through together, I should’ve given you the benefit of the doubt.”

But another question was plaguing your mind. “How long have you known?”

“Known what?”

“About what Priya did.”

“The same day that you were hurt. I was coming to find you when Steve got your message. I just got back from that mission with Sharon.” His voice tailed off, knowing what your next words would be about.

“Why were you on a mission with Sharon?”

“Because I asked Steve to assign me a different partner,” he mumbled.

You nodded, as he confirmed your suspicions. “Of all the things that’ve happened, I think that’s the most hurtful thing you’ve done.”

“So you just decided to leave? Without saying a word?” He couldn't keep the sourness from his words.

“Who was I supposed to say it to? You were acting like I didn’t exist. You didn’t even say goodbye when you walked away from me. What if something happened out there?” Your eyes filled with tears again. “What if you didn’t come back? What was I supposed to do then, Bucky? Huh? You left me!” Your voice cracked as your tears fell.

“I know, I'm sorry.” He put his arms around you, holding you tightly. He whispered his apologies into your hair as he held you to his chest. “I'm sorry.”

As you composed yourself, you pulled out of his embrace, wincing as the stitches in the side of your abdomen are put under strain. “Please don't,” you pushed away his hand as he tried to help you. “How does your girlfriend even feel about you being here 24-7? She made it pretty clear to me that she wasn’t giving you up.”

“She did what?” Bucky’s voice rose an octave and his eyebrows flew up into his hairline. “When?”

“Didn’t she tell you why we were in the park together?”

“I haven’t seen her since we brought you to the hospital. We’re not…”

“What happened?” you asked, surprised to hear this development.

“We broke up.”

“Why?”

Bucky took a deep breath, trying to gather his thoughts before speaking. "Because she's not you," he finally said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your eyes widened in surprise, your expression a mix of confusion and realization.

"What do you mean she's not me?" you asked, your voice tinged with disbelief.

Bucky looked down at his hands, fidgeting nervously. "I mean... she's not you. She's not the one I want to be with. She's not the one who makes me feel safe and loved. She's not the one who understands me like you do."

"I was so scared of losing you, that I ended up acting totally crazy and almost lost you anyway. Bucky, I…” you sighed. “I don't know why this is so hard for me to say… I care about you. You're everything to me… I… I love you."

Bucky's eyes softened as he reached out to gently lift your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "I'm sorry, Cricket. I didn't realize... I didn't know how you felt."

You sighed, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders as you finally spoke your truth. "I've been hiding it for so long, Bucky. I've been pretending that everything was fine, but it wasn't. I missed you. I missed us."

Bucky's thumb brushed against your cheek, wiping away a stray tear. "I missed you too, Cricket. I missed us too."

You leaned into his touch, feeling a sense of comfort and familiarity wash over you. “I don't want to hide it anymore, Bucky.”

Bucky's eyes sparkled with emotion as he pulled you into a tight embrace, holding you close as if he never wanted to let go. "I’m so glad to hear you say that, Cricket. I love you too."

In that moment, you felt that your world was complete. Bucky was everything you needed and he felt the same way about you as you did for him. You craned your neck back to look at his face, and as he caught your eye, Bucky cupped your cheek tenderly. Your hearts beat in unison as he leaned in closer. The tension between you palpable, the air thick with desire. And then, in a moment that seemed to last an eternity, his lips met yours in a soft, tender kiss, his heart soaring as you kissed him back. It was like nothing either of you had ever experienced before. The world around you faded away as you lost yourself in Bucky, your bodies pressed together in a sweet embrace. The kiss was gentle and sensual, filled with a depth of emotion that words could never express.

Eventually Bucky pulled back, gasping a little to fill his lungs with the air he had been deprived of. Even as a super soldier , Bucky still needed oxygen. He blinked in confusion, bewildered by the mischievous twinkle in your eye.

"I win that round, huh?" you said, a playful grin on your face.

"What do you mean? How are you not out of breath?" he asked, his heart still racing from the kiss.

You pointed to the tracheostomy tube in your throat, a small smile playing on your lips, a hint of laughter in your voice. "I can breathe through this, remember? So I win this time, Sergeant Barnes. Whoever breaks the kiss is the loser."

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh with you while shaking his head, feeling a sense of relief washing over him. He had always loved your sense of humor, even in a moment as intimate as this.

You sat on the edge of the bed, overjoyed that you had been deemed fit to leave the hospital. As you stared out of the window at the bountiful greenery that surrounded the urban hospital building, Bucky approached you quietly, his footsteps barely making a sound on the sterile floor.

"Hey, Cricket," he said softly, taking a seat beside you. "I heard it's time for you to come home."

You turned to look at him, your eyes filled with happiness. "Hey! That was my news!" you joked.

"Do you want me to get the rest of the team to help move you back home?"

You took a deep breath and looked out the window again, contemplating your response. You had been thinking about this moment for a while now, and you knew you had to be honest with Bucky.

"I appreciate the offer, Bucky, but I don't think I want to go home just yet," you said, your voice steady.

"What?" Bucky's face fell dramatically, panic on his handsome features. But you were ready for this reaction.

"Look, Buck, I'm not saying I don't want to be with you." You put your hand on his thigh. "I just... it's been a lot, you know? I..."

Bucky looked surprised, but he nodded understandingly. "I get it, Cricket. You've been through a lot and maybe you need more time to heal."

You smiled gratefully at Bucky. "Exactly. And I've been thinking... I want to stay in my apartment and teach at the Academy. I've never lived on my own, been self-sufficient. I went from living with my family, to working for S.H.I.E.L.D., to being an Avenger. I just think it's time for me to be me. I want you to have the best of me."

Bucky sighed, pouting and running a hand through his hair. "But we could use your powers on the team. You're a valuable asset, Cricket."

"I know," she replied, her voice tinged with sadness. “But I need a fresh start. I need to figure out who I am outside of being a superhero or an agent. I want to continue working at the Academy and make a difference in my own way."

Bucky nodded, understanding your need for independence. "I respect that, Cricket. But promise me that if we ever need your help on a mission, you'll be there."

Cricket smiled softly. "Of course, Bucky. I'll always be there when you need me."

Bucky reached out and took your hand, his touch warm and comforting. "I'm going to miss having you around all the time."

You squeezed his hand back, feeling a pang of sadness at the thought of leaving your teammates behind. "I'll miss you too, Bucky. But this isn't goodbye forever. We'll still see each other all the time, I promise."

As you sat in silence, the weight of your impending separation hung heavy in the air. But you knew that this was a necessary step for you to find yourself and for your relationship with Bucky to grow stronger.

"What will this mean for us?" he asked, tentatively.

"Well, I hope, a fresh start. One where we can both communicate better with each other."

Bucky grinned at you sheepishly. "I promise, from this point on, I'll always be here for you, no matter what. Even if I'm mad, or sad, or..."

"Horny?"

Both of you burst out laughing, plenty embarrassed and slightly aroused.

"That one is guaranteed." Bucky grazed his finger over your arm, leaving a trail for goosebumps in its wake.

"I love you, Bucky."

"I love you too, Cricket," Bucky whispered, pressing a kiss to your forehead before reluctantly letting go.

As you prepared to leave the hospital and start your new journey, you felt a mix of emotions - excitement for the future, sadness at leaving your old life behind, but above all, a sense of hope for what was to come. And as you looked out at the greenery outside the window, you knew that you were ready for whatever challenges lay ahead. Everything felt different now and with Bucky by your side, you were confident that the two of you could face anything together.

Previous chapter < MASTERLIST > Next chapter

Tag list: @samodivaa @scoonsalicious @noonespecial90 @browneyedgrli @vicmc624 @cjand10 @capswife @julvrs @ordelixx @sashaisready @sebastians-love @belleofthebooks @missvelvetsstuff @angelbabyyy99 @rabbitrabbit12321 @love-isnt-greed @hhiggs @winters1917 @blackhawkfanatic @calwitch @learisa @daybleedsintonightfa11 @lillianacristina @mostlymarvelgirl @wintercrow @buckitostan @crist1216 @bisexualnikkisixx @robynjasp @brairslair @brnesblogposts

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fan fiction #my best friend's girl

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wackytheorist · 3 days

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A love letter to qsmpblr because everyone's making one and I think appreciating your favorite pages is wonderful.

(I'm not the best at introductions but you guys really do mean a lot for me, so here's my story)

I never used to care about tumblr, I only had an account to check out the funny posts and maybe reblog them on my sideblog but this account was colorless. I was just wead(random text spam that I can't remember).

Why? Because socializing was(and still is) quite hard and handling a community online was way to much stress for me, an overthinker. Of course I made occasional vague posts in the heat of the moment but I never wanted to be considered a qsmpblrian.

But then came the qsmp reset, and wayyy to many thoughts in brain I began posting. Then came the ghosties arc and so I began liveblogging and theorizing and ignoring my overthinker thoughts because qsmpblr was a big community and no one cared for little ol' me right?

I was so wrong, and happy to be wrong because now, I regret nothing and this community is the 9th most important thing of my life.

You see I love appreciating people inside but when I try to talk about it, I stumble hence the weird wording

PEOPLE I'D LIKE TO THANK UNDER CUT

@ultra-raging-ghost You used to be my primary source of badboyhalo vlogging, thank you for catching me up to date. It was so fun go insane over badboyhalo with you, even if it was for a short time.

@kadextra I'm devouring your art oml, also loved to liveblog with your so cool omg.(I'm so so so honoured to be your mutual)

@alchemicaladarna Holy shit your brain please keep yapping if alchemicaladarna made a lecture on badboyhalo lore, you bet your ass I'd be there.

@q-starhalo , @rhiaarrow , @imferns , @pomme--bleuet and all the other bbh vloggers I couldn't mention for various reasons, thank you for your services o7

@iminyourbookshelf I loved chomping the heads of federation workers with you, your amazing and cool :D

@semifontos I've said everything I wanted to say everything in your reblogs but omg your writing is insane/pos

@tubborucho I didn't expect you follow back, your sosososososo very cool :D

@pommunist Thank you for your services to bringing us information about the qadmin situation(and for being the based af)

@ethertheaether The fanfiction on Omelete made my shitty month 2000x better.

@itsbebebrainrotting @faffodil @imnotasweetie @dotterelly @annimator @artistnerd24

@theroseyhues @lilghostlettuce @qsmp-extraordinaire Your reblogs make my day pippipipipipipipipipipipipipipipipi

@qsmpcryptid @insanitybl00m @adreamoverlife @etoilesbienne @sarcastictissy and a lot of blogs I can't all capture thank you!

@qsmpincorrect @qsmp-where-they-shouldnt-be @which-qsmp-egg-would and all the events that kept us entertained.

AND @YOU QSMPBLR USER!!

#qsmpblr #qsmp

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elvendria · 3 days

Text

Clean

AU Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Final Part

You return to Hawkins after a few years in the middle of the night during the summer with your 4-year-old sister in tow, thinking the two of you could fly under the radar and settle in at Forest Hills Trailer Park. You thought you could get by without bumping into your old enemy, Eddie Munson, the town freak.

But you weren't always enemies. There was a time when you two were closer than anything.

Eddie dreams of making it big. You just dream of making it out of here alive.

\\enemies - lovers//

((Warning: I'm not from the US, so bear with me with states and such) )

18+ MINORS DNI

Eddie starts as a dick, but I promise he gets better. There’s a slap, but it's low-key warranted? Mentions of blood

18+ MINORS DNI or I will be busting kneecaps, E.D, physical abuse, child abuse, runaways, the reader Joyce's ex-step-niece, Will and Johnathan's cousin, Joyce is Queen, Wayne is King, slow burn, gambling addictions, the reader is 20 and Eddie is 21, Chrissy is the villain but we stan Grace. Reader has a small scar on her lower torso. underage drinking, allusions to smut, no details of smut for obvious reasons, eventual smut in upcoming chapters, brief mention of Y/N

Every detail of the room felt etched into your consciousness—the rough texture of the wooden floor beneath your feet, the cold smoothness of the linoleum countertops, the mundanity of the generic painting hanging above Eddie's head. You'd stared at it for so long that it had lost its semblance of reality, blending into the background of your mind's eye. But as much as you preferred the silent refuge of these familiar surroundings to the looming conversation you needed to have, you knew you couldn't evade it permanently.

Eddie's voice cut through the thick silence, a reminder that avoidance was no longer an option. "You can’t stay silent forever. We still need to talk about this."

Your heart sank at his words, the weight of unspoken truths pressing down on you. You wished for a way out, a reprieve from the inevitable confrontation. But deep down, you knew that delaying the conversation would only prolong the agony.

Summoning every ounce of courage, you forced yourself to speak, though you couldn't bring yourself to meet his eyes. "I tried to talk about this. Five years and five months ago." The words tasted bitter on your tongue, a painful reminder of a past you'd rather forget.

Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself to drift back to that fateful day—the memories flooding back with a visceral intensity that threatened to overwhelm you. It was the worst day of your life, a day etched into your soul with searing clarity.

The air was heavy with tension as you and Eddie sat across from each other, words caught in your throat like shards of broken glass. You'd rehearsed what you wanted to say a thousand times in your mind, but when the moment came, the words failed you.

You remembered the look of confusion and hurt in Eddie's eyes as you struggled to articulate the truth. You remembered the silence that followed, thick and suffocating, swallowing you whole.

In the years that followed, you buried the pain deep within, hoping that time would heal the wounds you couldn't bear to face. But now, with Eddie's patient insistence echoing in your ears, you knew that avoidance was no longer an option.

Taking a deep breath, you opened your eyes, steeling yourself for the conversation ahead. It wouldn't be easy, and the road ahead was fraught with uncertainty. But you knew that facing the truth was the only way forward, no matter how painful it might be.

5 years and 5 months ago

In the stillness of the room, time seemed to stand still, each passing moment stretching into eternity. The air felt heavy with emotions, suffocating in its intensity. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast elongated shadows across the walls, serving as a silent witness to the turmoil raging within.

As you sat on the edge of the bed, the familiar comfort of the mattress now feeling foreign and distant, you couldn't shake the weight of the sealed envelope clutched tightly in your trembling hands. The words "Return To Sender" emblazoned on its surface seemed to mock you, a cruel reminder of rejection in its most brutal form.

With each passing second, the questions swirled in your mind, each one more haunting than the last. How could Eddie do this to you? How could he turn his back on the life growing within you, on the love you once shared so deeply?

As you traced the outline of each handwritten letter with shaky fingers, the sting of tears threatened to overwhelm you once more. The pain was palpable, a physical ache that radiated from your heart and settled deep within your bones. It was a pain born of betrayal and abandonment, a pain you never imagined you would have to endure.

Desperate for some semblance of connection, some shred of reassurance that you weren't alone in your anguish, you reached for your phone. But each call ended in silence, the void on the other end echoing the emptiness in your heart. It was a loneliness unlike anything you had ever known, a loneliness that consumed you from the inside out.

In the silence of the room, memories flooded your mind like a torrential downpour. You couldn't help but replay the moments leading up to this, each one a painful reminder of what once was and what could have been. The whispered promises, the shared dreams — they all felt like distant echoes of reality you could no longer grasp.

And yet, despite the overwhelming sorrow threatening to engulf you, a flicker of defiance ignited within your soul. You refused to let this moment define you, to let Eddie's betrayal rob you of your strength and resilience. You were stronger than this, stronger than the pain that threatened to break you.

As you sat there, enveloped in the solitude of the night, you couldn't help but wonder what the future held. It was a future shrouded in uncertainty, fraught with challenges and obstacles yet to be overcome. But it was also a future filled with possibility, with the potential for growth and healing in ways you never thought possible.

And so, with a newfound sense of determination, you rose from the edge of the bed, the weight of the envelope still heavy in your hand. You knew that the road ahead would be difficult, filled with twists and turns you couldn't anticipate. But you also knew that you were not alone, that somewhere out there, amidst the darkness, there was a glimmer of hope waiting to be discovered.

Present Day

The memories unfurled like delicate petals in the garden of your mind, each one a testament to the fragility of youth and the bittersweet symphony of love and loss. You transported yourself back to a time when innocence was your constant companion and the world seemed painted in hues of hope and possibility.

“You know, I used to draw a little design along the back of my letters so you could make sure they hadn’t been opened by the time they got to you. It was stupid. I mean, what kind of person would want to read a letter from a 16-year-old?” The simple act of drawing a squiggly line on the back of your letters emerged from the recesses of memory, a quaint ritual born from a desire to safeguard your innermost thoughts from prying eyes. At the tender age of sixteen, such gestures felt like feeble attempts to protect the sanctity of your words in a world fraught with uncertainty.

But uncertainty seemed a distant memory compared to the raw ache that now gnawed at your soul. Tears welled up unbidden, tracing silent rivers down cheeks once adorned with the flush of youth. You hadn’t even realized they were there until the telltale sting of saltwater against your skin brought your attention to their presence.

The weight of your emotions bore down upon you like a heavy shroud, suffocating and relentless. A sob escaped your lips, the sound foreign and raw in the stillness of the room. It was a sound wrought from the depths of your being, a primal cry for understanding in a world that seemed determined to remain indifferent to your pain.

This is what happened when you thought back to that day. You felt your chest tighten like your whole body had shut itself down and stitched itself up, trapping any remnants of the life you once had inside.

“But… that was just it. I thought you would. I thought after everything, everything, that you were that person, that you’d want to read each word, and keep them until I came home to you.” You murmured, voice barely above a whisper as you navigated the labyrinth of memories that threatened to consume you whole. It was a day etched in the annals of your existence, a pivotal moment that had irrevocably altered the course of your life.

Your chest tightened with each passing moment, a vice-like grip that threatened to crush the fragile remnants of your shattered heart. It was a physical manifestation of the agony that permeated your being, a tangible reminder of the scars that marred your soul.

The spark of happy memories flickered briefly before being engulfed by the suffocating darkness that loomed on the horizon. It was a cruel juxtaposition, the juxtaposition of light and shadow that seemed to define your existence in equal measure.

“But… that was just it,' you confessed, the words tumbling from your lips like fragile petals caught in a tempest. It was a confession borne from the depths of your despair, a desperate plea for understanding in a world that seemed determined to remain deaf to your cries.

“I thought you would,” you continued, voice trembling with a vulnerability that left you feeling exposed and raw. It was a sentiment rooted in the belief that love, true love, could transcend the barriers of time and space, binding two souls together in a tapestry of shared experiences and whispered promises.

But his face remained impassive, a mask of stoicism that betrayed none of the tumultuous emotions swirling beneath the surface. It was a facade you had grown accustomed to, yet it still cut you to the quick, a reminder of the chasm that now yawned between you.

You watched in silence as he spoke, his words a litany of accusations and half-truths that cut through the fragile veneer of your composure. It was a barrage of verbal assaults, each one a dagger aimed squarely at the heart of your fragile hopes and dreams.

The question he posed hung in the air like a heavy fog, suffocating and oppressive in its silence. It was a question that pierced the very fabric of your being, laying bare the insecurities and doubts that had long plagued your tortured soul.

“Is she even mine?” he demanded, the words a cruel echo of the doubts that had long haunted your darkest nightmares. It was a question you had feared and dreaded, yet it still cut you to the quick, reminder of the fragile foundation upon which your fractured relationship now stood.

Any lingering traces of guilt dissolved in the face of his callous indifference, replaced by a seething anger that threatened to consume you whole. How dare he? How dare he question the paternity of the child you had borne alone, a testament to the strength and resilience of a mother’s love?

“Look, don’t give me that look,” he snapped, his voice dripping with contempt as he dismissed your pain with a casual wave of his hand. It was a dismissal you could ill afford, a reminder of the gulf that now stretched between you like an unbridgeable chasm.

But you refused to be cowed by his indifference, refused to allow him to diminish the magnitude of your sacrifice with his callous words. You squared your shoulders, steeling yourself for the storm that threatened to engulf you whole.

“And I don’t know you’d been telling me in your letters how you were getting close to this Jeb kid,” he continued, his words a dagger aimed squarely at the heart of your fragile hopes and dreams. It was a betrayal of the highest order, a betrayal you could ill afford in the face of his relentless onslaught.

Sure, you had attempted to befriend Jeb, and had sought solace in the fleeting moments of companionship he offered. But it was a fleeting respite, a reprieve from the relentless storm that raged within your tortured soul.

“Look, I think we just need to do a paternity test-” he began, his words a death knell tolling in the depths of your despair. It was a proposition you could ill afford, a proposition that threatened to unravel the fragile threads of your fractured relationship.

But before he could utter another word, something inside you snapped. It was a primal instinct, a raw surge of emotion that propelled you forward with a force you could not resist. The crack of your hand meeting his cheek echoed in the stifling silence, a symphony of defiance and liberation.

“Get out,” you spat, the words a bitter indictment of the betrayal that now stained the fabric of your fractured relationship. He recoiled, a hand pressed to his stinging cheek, shock etched into every line of his face.

As he made his hasty exit, you remained rooted to the spot, grappling with the aftershocks of your outburst. Glass shattered against the door, a physical manifestation of the shattered fragments of your fractured relationship.

Alone amidst the debris, you collapsed to the floor, knees buckling beneath the weight of your anguish. Blood mingled with tears as you surrendered to the overwhelming tide of emotion, the cold embrace of exhaustion lulling you into an uneasy slumber.

And so you lay, battered and broken, the echoes of his accusations lingering in the recesses of your mind, a reminder of the fragile nature of trust and the devastating consequences of its betrayal. But amidst the wreckage of your shattered dreams, a flicker of hope remained a beacon of light in the darkest depths of despair. For in the crucible of adversity, you had discovered the strength to endure, the resilience to rise from the ashes of your shattered past and forge a future worthy of the love you so desperately sought.

Eddie seethed with a mixture of frustration and disbelief as he stepped into the familiar confines of his home in Hawkins. All he'd attempted was to apply logic, yet he was met with hostility. Perhaps "assault" was too strong a term, but it wasn't far from the truth. This marked the second occasion he'd been struck since returning home. Did he even still consider Hawkins home? The question gnawed at him as he pushed the door shut behind him, the weight of uncertainty settling heavily upon his shoulders.

Inside, the atmosphere was tense. Wayne sat at the worn wooden table, his hands folded neatly before him. The silence that enveloped the room hung heavier than usual, suffocating any hope of a casual greeting. Eddie's jaw tensed as he braced himself for the inevitable confrontation, his mind racing with a thousand unanswered questions.

"So... what went down between you two?" Wayne's voice cut through the oppressive silence like a knife, his gaze fixed intently on Eddie. Eddie couldn't help but admire his uncle's directness, even in moments like these.

"We argued, as we always do," Eddie began, his voice heavy with frustration. "She gave me the silent treatment for ages, and when she finally spoke, she blamed me for not knowing about the kid. So, I asked if the child was even mine, and she slapped me! Can you believe it?" His hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white against the strain as he recounted the altercation.

Wayne sighed heavily, rubbing a weary hand over his face. "You're being dense, Eddie," he said, his tone laced with exasperation. He knew Eddie was smarter than this. Yet here he was, behaving like a petulant child. "Of course, Willow is yours. All the signs point to it."

Eddie shot Wayne a withering glare, his frustration boiling over. How could his uncle trust her over him? Surely the reasonable man Wayne was would understand why Eddie preferred to err on the side of caution, especially with matters of the heart.

"Edward, the kid has your eyes and your hair. She looks exactly like you did as a child. I knew she was yours the moment I saw her."

The words hit Eddie like a ton of bricks, a sudden realization dawning on him. "You knew? When did she tell you?"

"She didn't have to. Edward Munson, that kid is your spitting image. When she visits, all she wants to do is listen to your tapes and hear you talk about your Caves and Lizards game."

"It's Dungeons and Dragons," Eddie corrected automatically, his mind racing to process this new information. "She's mine... isn't she?"

"Of course she is. Did you think she'd choose anyone but you?" Wayne's voice softened, a hint of warmth creeping into his tone as he reached out to reassure his nephew. He had seen it the moment she entered their lives. She and Eddie had an infatuation with each other. They loved each other from day one, and it took a child to make them realize it if they ever did admit it.

"Yeah... about that..." Eddie's voice trailed off, a pang of guilt gnawing at him. How could he have doubted her, doubted them? He'd never forget the look in her eyes, like everything had fallen into place for her that night. He knew because he felt the same way. Even now, he felt like his entire existence revolved around her. "I kind of hinted that I thought she might be with someone else."

Wayne's expression softened, a flicker of understanding passing between them. Eddie had always been quick to jump to conclusions, but his heart was in the right place. "You're something else," Wayne said, a hint of fondness tugging at the corners of his lips as he rose from his seat.

With that, Wayne pushed his chair back and headed to the bathroom, leaving Eddie to grapple with the weight of his own emotions. As he made his way to his room, a sense of unease settled over him. He had ruined everything he ever wanted, and the consequences of his actions weighed heavily on his mind.

To top it all off, he might have ruined any chance of seeing his daughter again. The thought hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the fragility of their newfound bond and the importance of trust in their relationship.

The echoes of the argument still reverberated in your mind, though two weeks had passed since the war within your… situation… erupted. Now, amidst the chaos of life, bigger things demand your attention. Today marked Willow's first day of school, a milestone overshadowed by the recent upheaval. Delaying it by a few days seemed necessary as she grappled with the revelation that the person she believed to be her sister was, in fact, her mother. It was a truth that unravelled a web of emotions, triggering one of the most monumental tantrums you had ever witnessed.

As you sat in the parking lot, the weight of recent events felt momentarily lifted by the simple joy of hearing Willow refer to you as her mom for the first time. The word, so longed for yet unexpected in its arrival, wrapped around your heart like a warm embrace. It was a validation of the bond you had worked tirelessly to forge, despite the obstacles and uncertainties that clouded your path.

"Mom... we should go." Willow's voice broke through the reverie, grounding you in the present moment. You couldn’t get past the significance of her words, even if she didn’t. Each syllable held a promise of newfound connection and acceptance for her and a promise that part of you was starting to slip away. It was a moment you had longed for, a moment that filled the void left by the turmoil of recent weeks.

With a sense of renewed purpose, you stepped out of the car, the cool breeze of the morning air brushing against your skin. Making your way around to Willow's side, you extended a hand to help her out, savouring the warmth of her small fingers intertwined with yours. The simple act of physical contact felt like a lifeline, a tangible reminder of the love that bound you together.

Pulling her into a tight embrace, you marvelled at how much she had grown in what felt like the blink of an eye. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind of emotions, but in this moment, as you held your precious child close, everything else faded into insignificance. You couldn't help but lavish her with affection, doting on her every movement as if trying to make up for lost time.

"I know, I know. It's just you're so big now!" you exclaimed, your voice tinged with a mixture of pride and awe. Willow's smile mirrored your own, a reflection of the unconditional love that flowed between you. As you stood there, basking in the warmth of the morning sun, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, bound by a love that was as resilient as it was unbreakable.

As she skipped beside you, her sparkly pink trainers lighting up with every step, you held her hand tightly. With each bounce, she seemed to carry a piece of the sun's brightness, infusing the world around you with an infectious energy that made everything seem more vibrant and alive. You wished you could bottle it, like her own brand of lightning in a jar. You were certain a joy like that could cure all ailments.

As you stepped into the building, a wave of familiar scents enveloped you, triggering a strange sense of nostalgia. The hallways exuded a peculiar blend of bleach, plasticine, and an elusive aroma that seemed to linger in every school corridor. It was a scent that stirred up memories, perhaps of apprehension, or maybe of anticipation, but most likely a concoction of both.

High school memories flooded your mind, and you couldn't help but think of her. You wondered how time would mould her, shaping her perspective of the world. If she retained even a fraction of the effervescent spirit she possessed now, you could easily picture her as a beacon of joy, radiating positivity and warmth wherever she went.

As you approached Willow's classroom door, a mix of emotions swirled within. Each step felt like a journey, leading inexorably to a new phase of life. The door creak seemed to underscore the weight of the moment as it swung open, revealing a space alive with the energy of youth. But amidst the chatter and colourful decor, a bittersweet truth lingered: this marked the beginning of the end of an era. Standing in the hallway, holding her tiny little hand, the gravity of the occasion settled like a heavy cloak. It was a poignant reminder that time marches on, carrying precious moments with it, even as it ushers in new beginnings.

“You ready to go in, sweetie? You want me to come in and help you get set up?”

“Wait!”

Your head snapped up, startled by the rapid tempo of shoes striking the linoleum floor. As you turned, your heart leapt at the sight of the one person you least expected yet secretly yearned for. It was a paradoxical moment, where surprise collided with a silent prayer answered. Time seemed to stand still as you processed the unexpected encounter, each heartbeat echoing the tumultuous mix of emotions swirling within.

“I drove here as fast as I could. I… I had to see her.”

His dishevelled appearance, with hair hastily scraped back and clothes seemingly inside out, hinted that he rushed here, disoriented maybe. The last thing you wanted was for Willow's first day to be marred by tears or confusion, so you hurriedly guided her inside, a silent observer from the doorway.

As Willow bounded towards a girl in a bright blue sweater, effortlessly engaging in her natural talent for making friends, you couldn't help but feel a pang of emotion. Yet, you remained silent, unable to meet his gaze without the weight of an unspoken intensity pressing against your chest.

It was a sensation that threatened to overwhelm you, leaving your eyes burning and your mouth dry. The urge to scream into the void, to release the pent-up emotions into the world, was almost palpable. But deep down, you knew that no amount of noise could articulate the complex feelings swirling within you.

“Why did you-” You couldn’t handle his questions, only holding up a hand to shut him up for a minute.

“You can see her from here. I can’t have her asking more questions just yet.” He didn’t have to deal with the fallout, he’s never had to deal with any of it. He just walked back in, fired around a bunch of accusations, and walked back out again. He’d never get to understand the pain that left you.

“I’m sorry for what I said. Please, just… just listen to me.”

“Will listening shut you up? Will it make everything go back to the way it was before you knew?” You choked on the end of your words, fighting back the tears that stung your eyes and threatened to fall.

“Just let me speak, and if after I'm finished, that's still what you want? Then we can try to go back to normal. But it’ll never be like it was before I knew, because I want to know her.”

You stood up and began walking away, hearing him follow close behind. You weren't in the mood to hear what he had to say, or how he felt he had some god-given right to see her after everything he had said and done. His presence grated on your nerves, each footstep amplifying your frustration.

“I want to know my daughter. Please.”

His voice sounded almost like he was begging, pleading with you to change your mind, to hear him out. The desperation in his tone made you hesitate, hearing him call her his. It stirred something within you, and you stopped in your tracks. Turning around, you fixed him with a ferocious glare, your eyes burning with a mix of anger and pain. The intensity of your gaze was enough to make him falter, and for a moment, the hallway was filled with the heavy silence of unspoken emotions.

"So now you feel entitled to call her yours?" Now you get to believe me when I say that I’d never been with anyone but you? Why did you suddenly have a change of heart?

He continued walking towards you, slowing his pace as he noticed you stiffen when he got too close. It was as if he was handling a wounded bird, afraid that any sudden movement might cause you to flee and leave him behind once more. The only thing convincing him that you wouldn't run was the undeniable truth that your child was still here, and you would never leave her. The weight of this unspoken understanding hung heavily in the air, a silent tether binding you to the spot despite the turmoil within.

“I was a fool before. Wayne showed me that. Hell, I was more than a fool. I was an outright fuck up.” He stood there, holding his breath. You could almost hear his heart battering against his ribs from where you stood. As you turned around and met his gaze, a flicker of softness crept into your heart. You wanted to dash to your car, to escape home and hide until it was time to pick her up. But you knew it was impossible. For Christ's sake, he lived across the street. Eventually, you'd run into him again. The thought of the inevitable encounters made your shoulders sag with the weight of resignation, yet you stood your ground, steeling yourself for the confrontation that you knew was coming.

“That doesn’t answer my question. It just proves I was right. Why do you feel the right to call her your child when I was the one who had to endure hell for years?”

You felt the tears fall, but made no move to wipe them away. A part of you was glad you didn’t when you felt his warm hand on your cheek, gently brushing them away with his thumb. He looked at you with that familiar expression—the one that had gotten you into this mess in the first place. It was a mix of tenderness and regret, a look that pierced through your defenses and made your heart ache. Despite everything, there was still a connection, a lingering trace of what once was, and it left you standing there, torn between the past and an uncertain future.

And it was goddamn working.

“I remembered it, just this morning.”

He was staring through your soul with those eyes that could melt the ice-cold walls you’d built to keep yourself safe. He was the only person you had ever known who could make you feel secure, make you feel at home. In his gaze, you saw a depth of understanding and a silent plea for forgiveness, a reflection of the love that had once bound you together so tightly. Despite the pain and the years of separation, he still had the power to unravel your defenses, leaving you vulnerable yet inexplicably comforted in his presence.

“When I called you and the line went dead, I tried again and again to get through to you. Eventually, someone answered. It was your dad. He told me you didn’t want to talk to me ever again. Then I remembered something you said to me about a letter you wrote. I… I never got it.”

The realization hit you like a freight train, surging through every vein in your body like an unstoppable force. It felt as though the tracks had suddenly given way beneath you, sending you hurtling into chaos. Yet, amidst the chaos, everything began to fall into place, like pieces of a puzzle that had eluded fitting together until this moment.

Memories flooded back—your father's abrupt phone call, the slammed receiver, the whispered conversations behind closed doors. And then, the return of your letter, marked with "return to sender." It all made sense now. The pieces of the puzzle, disjointed and scattered for so long, finally clicked into place, revealing a picture you had never dared to imagine.

A surge of conflicting emotions washed over you. Part of you wanted to cry and scream, to unleash the years of pent-up anger and frustration at the injustice of it all. You had wasted so much time hating him for what he did, resenting the world for the hand it had dealt you. But on the other hand, there was a profound sense of gratitude, a realization that despite the pain and heartache, his actions had led to the greatest gift you could have ever received.

In the midst of the turmoil, there was a glimmer of light—a beacon of love and joy that had emerged from the darkest corners of your past. Your child, the embodiment of a love you had never thought possible, had brought warmth and meaning into your life in ways you could never have imagined. And in that moment, as you grappled with the complexities of your emotions, you couldn't help but feel a sense of profound gratitude for the unexpected blessings that had emerged from the depths of your pain.

“I shouldn’t have said what I did when you told me that Willow was mine. I should’ve believed you. I always believe you.” He walked closer to you, till the tips of your shoes were touching, and you could feel his breath on your skin, the smell of nicotine engulfing you. “Maybe if I told you sooner that I…” You watched him catch his breath, watched him stop speaking for a moment. You had a blooming warm feeling in your chest, hoping what he was about to say was the same as what you’d been feeling for as long as you can remember.

“Say it, please. So that I can tell you the same thing.”

You watched as a sparkle appeared behind his eyes, a joyous expression threatening to overtake his face. It made you want to grin against him too, want to smile stronger and wider than you’ve ever done before.

“Maybe if I told you sooner that I loved you, I could’ve made you stay. We could’ve raised her together. God, I love you, have loved you and will love you for my entire life. I don’t know why I didn’t say anything before now. I wish I had told you that night, the beautiful night that I have been obsessed with since you left.” His words were like poetry, music to your ears.

The fluorescent lights cast a soft glow over the empty high school hallway, the distant hum of the lights barely audible. After five long years apart, you stood facing each other near the lockers where you had shared countless memories as children yourself.

"I never stopped loving you," he confessed, his voice trembling slightly. "Not for a single moment."

Tears welled up in your eyes, your heart pounding in your chest. "I love you too," you whispered, your voice breaking. "I've always loved you."

For a moment, the two of you simply stared at each other, the weight of your mutual feelings hanging heavily in the air. Then, almost in unison, you took a step closer.

His other hand reached up to cup your cheek, his thumb gently brushing away the last stray tear. You leaned into his touch, your eyes fluttering closed as you savored the warmth and familiarity of his hand.

He tilted his head, closing the distance between the two of you. Your breaths mingled, and you could feel the heat radiating from his body. Then, your lips collided with his in a tender, lingering kiss, a kiss that spoke of years of longing and unspoken words.

It was soft at first, a gentle exploration, as if you were both afraid the moment would shatter. But then, the intensity grew, the kiss deepening as you poured all your pent-up emotions into it. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, and you responded in kind, your hands tangling in his long, thick hair.

The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of love and passion. The cool metal of the lockers pressed against your back as they kissed, grounding you both in the reality of the moment. When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to catch their breath.

"I've missed you so much," you murmured, your voice barely more than a breath.

"And I you," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. "But we're together now, and I'm never letting you go again."

You smiled, your heart full, and kissed him once more, sealing the promise with a tender touch, the echoes of your love resonating through the silent hallway.

This, this was the life you deserved, the love you deserved, all along. This was what true love felt like, what it felt like to be loved. He was an intoxicating drug, and you knew that you were hooked for life.

You sat in the car together, catching him up on everything he’d missed while you were apart. Soon it felt like no time had passed at all, and that you were back to your old ways. Best friends, and now lovers.

You hadn’t realised that hours had passed until you saw the cute little bundle of joy bounding her way over in her pink light up sneakers. You saw a look on Eddies face, a beaming sight of joy.

“What is it? Are you okay?” You got a little worried, thinking maybe something was wrong.

“She… she’s wearing my old hellfire shirt. It was the first one I’d ever made. I didn’t want to waste a shirt my size, so I tried it on a child's one. Wayne, well, he must have sold it on or something.” You could now see that what that look in his eyes was. It was pride. Pride that his little girl was showing an interest in something that was uniquely his.

The grin stayed on his face even as she climbed into the car, throwing her arms around the seat to hug him, squealing his name in delight. It made your heart soar, like fireworks lighting up your whole world.

“So sweetie, how was your first day?”

“I got a boyfriend named Sam!”

You watched Eddie almost choke on his own breath, meanwhile you couldn’t help but break into a belly laugh, clutching your sides breathlessly.

“Well, guess I better meet this boy.” He turned to you, whispering gently. “Is it too much to sit on the porch with a shotgun?”

“Eddie! The kids probably five years old!”

“Hey! She’s my little girl, I gotta protect her from the big bad kindergartners of the world.”

And that was it, that was how you’d go onto spend the rest of your lives. With a beautiful sunny glow surrounding you like heavenly light.

The look of love would stay on his face forever, on your wedding day, on the day you brought a brother into the world for Willow. It was there always, and you just knew.

You knew that this was what it meant to be clean.

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

And there we go! The final chapter is done after so damn long. I've been writing this fic for over a year and im so glad to finally have it be over. The amount of WIPs I've come up with since then has been enormous, but I've commited and didn't want to give up on this baby. So here it is, I hope you all enjoyed!

next up.... BRIDGERTON EDDIE

@vintagehellfire @1paire2vans @introvertedmouse @ms1oftheboys @ashlynnkennedy @poisonedluv @302rocks @micheledawn1975 @corrodedcoffincumslut @f-cklife @chloe-6123 @hellfirexwhore @caseyqdilla @alyisdead @winchester-angel @sunflowerabyss @badluckgirl @blackb4ts @tlclick73 @eddiemunsonsgf2 @rozxartaki @emilyslutface @them-cute-boys @ilovetaquitosmmmm @r-a-d-i-0-n-0-w-h-e-r-e @captainonaboat @lottie-90 @adaydreamaway08 @munsonmunster @thecomfortgoth @uglypastels @ghost-proofbaby @trashmouth-richie @blueywrites @amberolivia666 @mystargirl-interlude

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85 notes · View notes

calaisreno · 24 hours

Text

Bottles

Note: I have two stories today because I couldn't make up my mind.

This one is sad (alcoholism, Sad John, Not Dead Sherlock, reunion, reconciliation, rehab. No MCD). The next one (Imagine) is much happier.

887 words / Prompt: Empty

He’s forgotten where he lives.

He hasn’t forgotten the little house in Clapham where his bed is, but as usual, his feet have taken him to Baker Street. That only happens when he’s been drinking. Well, it happens all the time these days.

Pockets, pockets. He still has a key, but he can’t find it.

“Lost it,” he says to himself. This seems true, and certainly describes his entire life these days. Since. After.

Lost it. He’s lost it.

It’s cold, almost November. Maybe it is November. If he closes his eyes— he does— he remembers another November. Back. Before.

Maybe he doesn’t have a bed now. He doesn’t have a job, so it’s quite possible that the house he remembers, the one with the bed and his clothes and a telly that doesn’t work, maybe that’s gone too. All his stuff, gone.

Sherlock gone.

He’ll cry if he thinks about that.

He’s already is crying.

The ground is suddenly closer than he thought. That’s because he’s sitting on the kerb outside 221B Baker Street. His face is wet and the ground is cold and he doesn’t have a place to sleep and all his stuff is gone.

“Why did you die?” If he were sober, he’d just ask inside of his head, and the Sherlock that lives there would say something cryptic.

You’re worried they’re right.

Heroes don’t exist.

Alone protects me.

It’s my note.

Mind Palace Sherlock. No, John has never had a Mind Palace. Nothing so grand. He doesn’t have a palace, not even one tiny bedsit now.

If he went home, if he had a home, he could sit in his chair and close his eyes and pretend Sherlock didn’t die.

He pulls the bottle out of his pocket. Nearly empty. He could drink it all in one swallow.

No, he already has.

The bottle clinks on the pavement. He tries to be careful when he puts them in the recycling bin, not let them clink against one another. That sound bothers him, shames him that there are so many.

Ashamed, he sits on the kerb, his feet in the road. Maybe he should just lie down in the road. Nobody would be surprised if he died that way. Better than a bullet. Better than drinking himself to death.

Rising to his feet, he sways. It’s a bad idea, standing up, but he wants to lie in the middle of the road and go to sleep. And never wake up.

He grasps at the air, trying to regain his balance, and finds he’s leaning against a car. A black car. The door opens and someone gets out.

Well, this will be embarrassing. For both of us.

Mycroft doesn’t pick up drunks. When necessary, he has people who do that for him. People who do his dirty work, clean up the vomit and wipe the blood off the upholstery.

No, they’re not getting into the car. The dirty work bloke is carrying him towards the door. And there’s Mycroft with the key, opening it.

“I’ve got you, John,” the dirty work bloke says. “You’re okay. You’re fine.”

He smells so familiar. That coat. “Sherlock,” he whispers. “Don’t be dead.”

He’s floating up. Up, up. It feels nice. The way home used to feel.

So gently, he’s laid down in a bed. A hand strokes his hair. “John.”

He’s crying. “Stop being dead.”

“Hush, John. I’m not dead. Remember? I came back.”

“But… but.” He’s not in the street. Clue: no cars. Soft. Warm. Ah, bed.

Someone is putting a pillow behind his head. It’s nice.

“John, sit up and have some water.”

“I got married,” he announces. “Did I get married?”

“You did.”

It’s the voice he remembers, the one that gives him shivers. “Am I dead?”

“No, you’re not.” A hand on his hair. “Hush, you’re safe. Rest now.”

In the other room, they’re talking softly to one another.

“How many times, Sherlock? He needs medical care. Rehab.”

“No, Mycroft. No hospitals. I’ll take care of him. Molly’s got Rosie for now, and Harry’s coming tomorrow.”

“Don’t be selfish, Sherlock. Are you sure this is what he’d want?”

Their voices are quieter now, further away.

“I have to fix this. I want to.”

“Well, then. I’ll leave you to it. Call me.”

In the silence, he drifts. He and Sherlock were in a pub, he thinks.

No, they were playing a game. I’m you, aren’t I?

He’s chasing a hound through the mist…

Sherlock is standing on the roof...

A gunshot, and he runs… don’t be dead…

Stay with me…

Goodbye, John…

He sobs. “Why are you still dead? I asked you to come back.”

He feels himself gathered into strong arms. “I heard you. I’m here.”

“Every time you say that, you leave me. Every time, you’re dead.”

He touches the face he loves. His fingers come away wet. Sherlock is crying.

“Please, John. You have to stop this. Stay with me, please.”

I’m not the one who leaves, he thinks. I’m the one who’s alone.

“All right.” Sighing, he leans into the vision. They’re standing under a starry sky, and it’s beautiful. Sherlock is beautiful.

“I love you,” he says, smiling up at him. “Always meant to say. I love you.”

Sherlock kisses him “I love you too. Stay with me.”

Please read the next one too! Imagine. A 1024-word fixit for Series 3-4.

#mayprompts2024

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predestinatos · 3 days

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“I Know” — CL16 + MV1

chapter 1 chapter 2

summary: the game doesn't stop once you leave the court OR part 2 of my challengers fic.

word count: 2.5k

tags: charles leclerc x fem! reader x max verstappen, smut, angst, fluff, everything really, complex relationship, implied cheating but also not how you expect it. MINORS DNI - WARNINGS UNDERNEATH

note: i have been loving writing this and exploring these characters and their dynamics. this chapter is shorter BUT that's because charles won in monaco and i felt like this would be a good celebration :) i hope u all enjoy it lovelies!

warnings: fingering (fem!receiving), dirty talking (a lot)

12:55AM

"Actually, I came here to tell you to lose" you said, crossing your arms in front of your chest defensively as the man looked down at you.

"Did you, now?" he asked, a finger raising your chin up towards him. Another joke, another teasing moment you couldn't run away from, couldn't resist despite your attempts at doing so.

He saw you merely nod. Part of him exhaled a short laugh, but another looked away from you. He was better than this. Better yet, you were better than this, much better. He also knew you were looking at him precisely how he wanted you to, a pleading in your eyes to succumb to the inevitable – but also a pleading to move away, to delay that inevitably for as long as possible.

He knew if he looked down again it would be over. You bit your lip as you stared at his tight jaw, at hints of a growing stubble across his face, at how everything about his body seemed to be a fight against itself.

"Charles" you called, unsure if he had heard it. He couldn't bear hearing your voice calling his name, and the stark, sudden change from his confident attitude to this restrained one was visible as he closed his eyes and swallowed dryly. "Hm?" was all he could reply. Was all he could bear to mutter without giving away the turmoil of his own mind.

"You're in the way."

YEARS EARLIER.

Max's hand was on your inner thigh and fighting against his mind to go much higher than that. You noticed the mole on his upper lip as he spoke, mostly because you tried to focus on his face more than his touch, afraid of letting it consume you.

"Did it actually matter? The winner?" he asked you. He pondered this many times after the match, head going back and forth between answers.

"It did to you both" you answered. He wasn't expecting it, really, yet he understood what you meant completely. Something about his relationship with Charles changed, and contrary to what was expected, it did so for the better.

"He thinks he knows what he wants" Max heard himself say, eyes locked on yours. He dared his hand to move upwards, just slightly, as if you wouldn't notice. As if his touch didn't make itself feel across your entire body.

"And what is that?" his face was so close to yours you were dizzy from holding back, dizzy by the sheer need you had to taste him again.

"Winning."

You raised an eyebrow at his answer, so bold yet calculated, hinting at something else, something more.

Both of you seemed aware of how talking about the other man ignited even more desire in you, excited you even more than it probably should.

"But he forgets why he wants it, what he truly wants. I never did." he continued, brushing your hair away from your neck in order to gain better access to it.

It was too much for you - how he seemed to know the right thing to do to send you just over the edge, to drive you to the limits of madness as your body yearned for him.

You took a deep breath, "Hm and what is it, Max?" he left sloppy, wet kisses along your neck now, as he realized he had won, pulling away only to smirk triumphantly, to admire his victory, looking at him almost completely disheveled already.

"You" his hand was as far up as it could now, leaving you completely vulnerable to how much he affected you. "So wet... And for who?" his question was a dare, a test of your honesty as his fingers brushed your clit. You could deny it, sure, but he knew the truth.

"For you" you said; an answer that was rewarded with a finger dipping slowly inside you, every inch of it felt as Max pushed inside you. He had to fight himself hard as he felt you tighten against his finger. Had to fight the urge to consume you fully right there and then because most of all he wanted to win.

"Why for me?" he asked, regaining control or convincing himself of it, another finger entering you and feeling how nicely you accomodated for him and him only. He was hard, his body craved the feeling of you around him, your wetness and heavy breath driving him to insanity and yet... and yet he let it hurt a bit. For he knew the long term pleasure would be bigger.

"Because you won" you answered, succumbing to him as his fingers curled inside you.

2:45PM

Cameras flashed in your direction inside the bustling studio. For brief minutes, your mind was focused on nothing but your own body and the camera, movements flowing through you and evoking new poses as you modeled.

It was good; to be distracted from Max, his tournament and the stress added to it. Too good to be true as you looked past the lights and photographers to a figure standing behind them, one that you were all too familiar with.

And now you were distracted once again, the double negatives not making positive. He was fit - tennis was doing him good, just as it was Max. His shoulders were broad and biceps more prominent in his polo shirt which hugged him tightly. He could only be mocking you. His awareness of how the timing conditioned every interaction between you and him couldn't go unnoticed - provocation written across his face as he admired you.

"Can we take 5?" you heard yourself say, unable to focus now that his presence haunted every picture like a ghost.

Charles watched as you got closer to him, wondering when exactly did he let you stray so further away from him, taking Max alongside you. He was a dick, really. His attitude was never the most humble or polite, not like his (now ex) best friend, who seemed to be more composed even in his nervousness.

Charles composed nature was more arrogant and overconfident, despite concealing little to nothing about his actual feelings. He wasn't familiar with insecurity the way Max was, so he never learned how to fake it that well.

You stopped in front of him, holding a cup filled with fruit as hunger crept up inside you now that you weren't focused on work.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" you asked, a loud whisper, a soft yell that made Charles wonder how that could even be possible. It clicked, then. Max could yell silently. He couldn't. But it wasn't sad to notice this, it actually amused him, the irony of him being the odd one out but also the inescapable one, the one unpredictable factor in both of your lives.

"Hello to you too, sweetheart" he replied, taking a grape from your cup and popping it into him mouth as he smiled. His boasting attitude made you roll your eyes. It took all the restraint in the world not to snap back at him.

He liked that about you. How your eyebrows furrowed, how your mouth turned into a slight frown of annoyance. How easy it was to get under your skin. How he knew that you loved it.

"Just came to say hi and wish you two luck for later" he continued, not wanting to part ways from you just yet, knowing he hadn't pushed all of your buttons yet.

"Max doesn't need your good luck" you replied. You noticed how you were always more defensive of him, sometimes almost mothering him.

Charles' cool toned eyes looked down at you as he bit his lip. He got you, now. He knew that. "But you do."

"I don't need anything from you" the cup was now becoming humid in your hands, threatening to slip as you tightened your grip on it.

"Are you sure?" his question was risky. Maybe too risky. He wasn't careful, evoking ghosts of Christmas Past into the conversation; things you had agreed to act like they didn't happen because pride spoke louder than lust in the list of sins.

You turned around now, tired of listening to him, irritated at the image he had brought to the table of your minds. Your body on his, his hands gripping your hair tightly as your legs wrapped around his waist.

"I'm not you side piece" he said. No, he chanted, teasingly, daringly. And as he saw you stopping in your tracks he knew he had hit a nerve, got you precisely where he wanted yoi.

"The only piece you are is a piece of shit"

YEARS EARLIER.

If Charles focused hard enough - really, really hard - maybe he could fight his own body against reacting as hard as it was to Max's secrecy regarding what happened between you two.

"You know, I don't kiss and tell" he said, hands behind his head as he layed down in his bed. They shared a room - they always did, it was natural, something they did so often they didn't even think about it anymore, like breathing or riding a bike,

"You're such an asshole, I'd never do this to you" Charles replied, fake annoyance in his tone as he threw his pillow at his friend's face.

"I may be. But I'm the asshole who won" the pillow flew to its initial place once again, hitting Charles' bed and then the floor, almost in a defeated position itself.

Charles knew something had had happened, mainly because he thought about it so much he knew he had made the thought into a reality. Maybe he was going insane, looking at Max and imagining you under him, your bodies intertwined and faces filled with pleasure. He wondered if it was jealousy or lust that filled him - if there even was a difference. And if it was jealous, who or what was he jealous of?

Running a hand through his hair, he tried to focus. He was upset because he lost. It didn't matter what, he would always be upset over losing; yet this time it pained him more. He had lost to both of you, lost to himself by being left out of something he so desperately wanted.

"I'll beat you someday" Charles said, trying to keep up the joyful mood.

"Will it matter then?" Max asked. It was an innocent question, yet it was also a test: to his own rationality, to Charles' emotions and to where they stood in their friendship.

They locked eyes with each other and for a second the room was so quiet it might've been paused by someone's remote, the silence engulfing them both like a wave.

But as soon as it came, it disappeared. And Charles shrugged, picked up his pillow from the carpeted hotel floor and replied "I think it will to her"

Max allowed himself to close his eyes for a second, wondering if he should speak or not. He laughed at his own twisted thoughts, questioning his own morality as he felt his blood pumping through his veins.

"You know this just makes it hotter for me, right?" he asked his friend in the bed only a bedside table away frim him. "You wanting my girlfriend, all intense and shit."

Charles knew this. He was fighting similar feelings, knowing part of your allure also lied in their own desire for you.

What they didn't know is that you shared these thoughts, your attraction towards both of these men relying not only on their own selves but on their fight for you and each other.

11:00PM

You fidgeted with your wedding ring, looking at the way it adorned your long fingers. You looked at his hand then, both so different from each other.

You were a good wife, weren't you? You supported Max, you listened to him and you made him laugh. You cared about him more than anything else, though that was harder to admit.

Aren't people allowed to have flaws? Wasn't Charles his flaw as well? Wasn't he on the back of both of your minds, wasn't he just another reason why you loved each other so much?

"He went to my workplace today" you said as his head rested on your lap, smooth skin caressing his face. His body stiffened, yet it didn't seem like nervousness was the emotion affecting him.

"I think he's nervous." You continued, knowing his silence was a code for you to keep going.

He chuckled at your words. "About playing against me or you watching him?"

"I think it's more about you watching him than anything." More silence followed. He didn't want to argue with you, not when your touch felt so comforting and your words melted into his ears. "He likes you"

"He respects me" This time he retorted, his hand holding your arm as if in an attempt to wake you up from whatever sleep you were in.

"Same difference" you shrugged.

"For you, it is."

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1blr #f1 fandom #charles leclerc #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x reader #f1 smut #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fic #max verstappen x you #max verstappen smut

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hearts-hunger · 1 day

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Read on AO3 | Masterlist | Cabin Fever Masterlist | Join my taglist here!

Summary: You have a surprise for Jake.

Pairings: Jake x Wife!Reader, Josh x Baby, Sam x Danny | Genre: domestic fluff, slight angst | Word Count: 3.7k | Warnings: pregnancy, morning sickness

A/N: I have to throw in a little angst, you know me. But here you go! Jake and Sparrow are having a baby! ♡

Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, you listened to the steady roll of thunder and patter of rain and tried to will yourself into feeling better. So far, it wasn't working very well; rocky and nauseous, there was little you could do but hold your head in your hands and be as still as possible. One wrong move and you'd be down for the count, just like you had been yesterday morning and the morning before that.

You know what that means, a little voice said in your head. You grimaced.

“It’s just the flu,” you said to yourself. “Some weird flu with no other symptoms that only happens in the morning.”

The power of positive thinking seemed to be a useless venture, but you kept it up anyway. You couldn't be pregnant. No way you were ready for that.

There was a knock on the bathroom door, and as you quickly straightened up and made yourself promise that you weren't going to be sick, no matter what, you were reminded of somebody else who wasn't ready for you to be pregnant either. You and Jake hadn't really talked about it — the occasional tipsy proposition to get started having a bunch of little Kiszkas wasn't exactly a serious discussion. Neither of you had pictured it this way, on the cusp of a tour and new album, and you decided to stick with your useless positive thinking for a little bit longer.

“Come in,” you said. Jake made his way in, drowsy and sleep-soft, dressed only in his black boxers and the necklaces he never took off. He looked at you in the mirror as he started to brush his teeth.

“Feel okay, sparrow?” he said around his toothbrush.

You nodded. “Fine. Just don't want to be up this early.”

He hummed in agreement and spit toothpaste into the sink. “You were the one who booked us a flight at the crack of dawn.”

You couldn't deny that. Though Josh and Baby had given you plenty of notice on the date of their son's third birthday party, and though you knew the date by heart because you’d been there the day little John Denver Kiszka was born, you’d procrastinated booking a flight until the early-morning option was the only one. To be fair, you'd had a lot on your mind.

Jake turned on the shower. “You wanna save water and jump in with me?”

You smiled. “I love it when you talk conservation to me.”

He smirked and pulled the shower curtain aside, ushering you in. You felt yourself relax in the quiet morning ritual of showering together, washing each other’s hair and gently bickering over who was getting the most water.

“Can you believe JD is three already?” you asked. His present from the two of you, a pint-sized pirate sword you'd gotten at the ren faire a few weeks ago, was neatly wrapped and packed in your suitcase. “It doesn't seem like it's been three years.”

“Seems like it was only yesterday,” Jake crooned in a teasing voice. “The first baby of the Kiszka-Wagner clan.” He shook his head. “It could be us, sparrow. Can you imagine us with a three-year-old? Holy cow.”

All the tension you’d thought had left quickly made its way back into your body. A nervous hand fluttered to your tummy, somehow worried that a pregnancy that you weren't even convinced was real would show itself.

“It wouldn't be so terrible,” you said weakly.

He smiled and kissed your cheek, turning the shower off and grabbing you a towel. “No, it wouldn't be so terrible. But not right now. Soon, but not right now.”

You felt nauseous again as you toweled off and dressed. You didn't talk much as you both readied to leave, putting your suitcases in the back of the car and patting Gibson, your cat, goodbye. A kind, cat-loving coworker of yours was coming by to feed Gibby while you were gone, but Jake gave him snuggles and kisses like it was the last time they were ever going to see each other.

“You be good,” Jake said, stroking Gibby’s head as he purred like a car engine. “Mama and I love you very very much.”

Some weird, clawing thing stuck in your throat at him calling you “mama” even though he'd always referred to you that way to your cat. You kissed Gibby’s head and went out to the car, taking a few deep breaths as you watched the rain slide down the passenger side window.

“Five-thirty?” Jake groaned as he backed the car out of the driveway. “Sparrow, we gotta get some coffee.”

Your mood was pensive and distant through the drive, checking in at the airport, and boarding the plane. Jake got away with just one request for his picture and signature in the terminal; the girl was wearing a Mirador shirt, and Jake grinned at her promise to get his signature tattooed right where he’d signed it on her arm.

“Never gets old,” he said, slinging his arm over yours as you stood in line to board. “Tell me you like being married to a rockstar.”

You gave him a weak smile. “I like being married to a rockstar.” You did, and you wouldn't trade the constant enjoyment of Jake’s skill and success as a musician. But the rockstar life made some things difficult, and you didn't dare think of what problems would arise if you really were pregnant.

Jake very sweetly gave you the window seat, intending and quickly managing to fall asleep against your shoulder. You looked out at the rainy tarmac and thought of Josh and Baby, two of your dearest friends, people who had not only managed to start a family in the middle of the rockstar life but become very good at it. Their son was the light of their lives, and they'd integrated domestic life into Josh’s whirlwind schedule of recording, touring, and constant limelight with every ounce of joy and patience a couple could ever hope to have. They would help you and Jake, happily, if it turned out that your positive thinking came to naught.

You tried to push the thought out of your head and rest against Jake, readying yourself for a day of summer birthday fun with your family. Your friends and your precious nephew deserved the best version of you, and by the time you pulled up to Josh and Baby’s beautiful old house in Frankenmuth, you were ready to jump right in.

The theme was toddler-friendly life on the high seas, and sweet, colorful, swashbuckling decorations adorned every inch of the house. Coming in, you heard your family in the kitchen and out on the back deck, the sliding door wide open to let dripping, bathing-suited partygoers come back and forth for snacks and popsicles before another splash in the pool.

“Ahoy, mateys!” Jake called, following you as you came into the kitchen. Baby looked up, a bright smile on her pretty face, and abandoned the cubes of watermelon she was spearing with tiny plastic swords.

“You’re here!” she said happily, throwing her arms around you. “Oh, I was worried — Josh said you might have bad weather coming out of Nashville.”

“Just some rain,” you assured her, so relieved to be here with her and the rest of your family. You hugged her back tightly. “How’s the party so far?”

She laughed and gestured to the back yard, accepting an affectionate ruffle of her hair from Jake. “Ready to get started, now that you're here. Have drink, put on your bathing suit, enjoy yourself.”

You went to say hello to your brothers, and JD graciously paused his relentless jumping into Sam’s arms in the pool to hug you and Jake. Dripping wet, his curly hair wreathed with sunshine, he looked up at you and your husband like you’d hung the moon.

“I so happy you're here!” he said gleefully. “Is’ my birthday!”

You smiled and kissed his chubby cheek. “It is! Happy birthday, honey.”

You let him get back to swimming and went to change into your bathing suit. Before long, you were happily drawn into sun-soaked hours of lounging by the pool, talking about everything and nothing with your family. Rosie, who wasn't as spry as she used to be but still patient and amenable to JD’s wet hands mussing her fur, thumped her tail as she lay under the shade of Danny’s chair.

“Sam wants another puppy,” Danny said, taking a long pull from a Corona. “He told his mom we're going to be parents, and she almost lost her shit until she figured out he meant another dog and not a baby.”

Sam planted a kiss on Danny’s forehead. “No babies until we're married, Wagner. I've told you this a hundred times.”

“He’s old fashioned,” Danny agreed, giving you a slightly wistful smile. “But he’s right. We’d have our hands full with a bunch of dogs and a whole entire person.”

“Oh, it’s not so bad,” Josh called from the pool, holding JD as the little boy paddled and splashed and giggled. “You should go for it. All of you. Me and Baby feel kinda left out being the only ones with bedtimes at seven-thirty.”

Jake laughed. “No thanks. I've still got some partying years in me.”

Your throat felt tight. “Maybe partying’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

“Speak for yourself,” Sam teased.

Baby seemed to notice something was off with you, and she put her hand over yours.

“Will you come help me get some stuff from the kitchen?” she asked.

You went with her willingly, needing a break from the sun and the harmless teasing that seemed to twist like a knife in you. You took the Capri-suns and sub sliders from the fridge as she mixed a pitcher of what was appropriately labeled “Jack Sparrow’s missing rum punch”.

“You want some?” she asked.

You bit your lip. “Better not.”

She poured herself a drink and joined you at the counter where you half-heartedly put pirate-sail toothpicks in the sandwiches.

“All the decorations came out really cute,” you said, meaning it despite your quiet tone.

She smiled. “Thanks, sparrow. You know Jake’s had JD into pirates since the day he was born, and now that he's finally old enough to enjoy it, I figured it was time to pull out all the stops.”

She brushed your hair back from your face. “Sparrow... are you pregnant?”

You felt a vivid blush rise to your face. Was it pinned to your dress like a scarlet letter? But meeting her eyes, seeing sympathy and understanding there, you slowly nodded.

“I think so,” you all but whispered. “I — I haven't taken a test. I don't know for sure.”

“But your period’s late?” she asked calmly.

“And I've been having morning sickness,” you managed. “It — I mean, it could be the flu, but —”

She laughed, but it wasn't unkind.

“It’s probably not the flu, honey.” She squeezed your hand. “I have a test in the bathroom if you want to take it.”

You were surprised. “Are you pregnant?”

She shrugged. “Not at the moment. I’m not planning on it, but...” She gave you a wry smile. “Sometimes these things happen, sparrow. It’s not the end of the world. It might actually be the start of something really wonderful for you and Jake.”

You felt the sting of tears. “I haven't said anything to him. I didn't want to if I wasn't sure. I don't know if he’ll...” Tears spilled over. “If he’ll be happy.”

“Of course he’ll be happy,” she said, and it was so confident and so sure that you felt a buoying of hope. “He’ll be over the freakin’ moon, sparrow. Don't let all this nostalgia for partying get to you. Josh was happy when we found out we were having JD, and Jake will be happy if you find out you're having a baby too.”

You swallowed. “You think so?”

She smiled and brushed the tears from your face. “Yeah, I think so. Go find out if you are.”

You did as she said, finding the Clearblue test under the sink. Waiting was agonizing; you forced yourself to wait longer than you were supposed to, not sure if you could bear it, whatever the result was. You wanted a baby with Jake; nothing would give you more pleasure than to make him a father, to start a family with the man you loved. But was he ready? Were you ready?

Finally, you looked at the test. There, in little black letters: pregnant.

A gasping sort of sob escaped you. You clapped a hand over your mouth and sank to the floor, holding the test in shaking fingers, reading it over and over. Pregnant. You and Jake were having a baby.

You cried, but whether they were happy tears or just a sign of how overwhelmed you were, you couldn’t tell. Sitting on your best friends’ bathroom floor, you watched your tears blur that one little word that would change everything.

Eventually, you collected yourself enough to wash your face at the sink and tuck the test in the pocket of your sundress. You ventured out to the back porch and found your family in a safe, comforting chaos; Baby and Danny were swimming with JD, and the twins were soundly beating Sam in garbage.

Jake looked up as you came out, a handsome smile lighting his face. “Hi, sweetheart. You wanna play the next hand?”

You looked over at Baby, and she grinned when you gave her a little smile. She nodded towards Jake, urging you to tell him.

“Um...” You twisted the fabric of your dress in nervous fingers. “Actually, can I talk to you for a second?”

“Sure. Let me just...” He laid out his cards and was met with groans from his brothers, and he smirked. “Read it and weep, fellas.”

Josh gathered up the cards to be dealt again, and Jake was careful of the empty beer bottles on the table as he stood and came inside with you. He was a little tipsy, his piratey swagger giving it away more than anything else, sun-kissed and smiley and so beautiful to you that you thought you would never get tired of just looking at him. Would your baby look like him? You hoped so, and it was the promise of another someone like Jake Kiszka in the world that made you brave enough to speak.

“I need to tell you something,” you said, your voice a little wobbly.

He pulled you close and gave you a kiss. “Don’t tell me. You want to ravish me.”

You gave a soft laugh. “Not exactly.” You led him to the guest bedroom, though, wanting it to be just the two of you with no one walking in accidentally.

“This is... not convincing,” he teased when you closed the door behind you. “I guess you’re feeling better than you were this morning, huh?”

You were, but the reason wasn't what he thought. Now that you knew, now that you were sure and had the confidence and encouragement of your best friend, you were feeling much better. Now you just needed Jake to tell you it would be alright.

“I think I might not be... over that,” you said cautiously. “Like, it might be a recurring thing. Every morning.”

He frowned, searching your face. “What do you mean? Is something wrong?”

You shook your head. “Nope. Nothing's wrong.”

“What is it, then?”

You pulled the test out of your pocket and handed it to him. “Um... I think that’s what it is.”

You waited for him to speak, to do anything, but he just looked at it in silence, cradled in the palm of his hand. Then, after a moment, he looked up at you.

“Are you serious?”

You couldn’t read his tone. Shock, surprise, maybe a little fear, something you hoped was excitement — all of them bled into the color of his voice.

“I'm serious,” you said, starting to feel like you were going to cry again. “I just took it. It's... I mean, it's pretty clear.”

He closed his hand around the test. Almost like he’d taken a blow, he stepped back and sat on the edge of the bed.

Your heart dropped right to the floor when he hid behind his free hand, leaning over his knees. Tears blurred your vision.

“I know it’s not the best time,” you said, desperate for some kind of reassurance. You came close to him. “But I think if we — if —” You didn't know what to say. “I think we can do it, Jake. I think we can have this baby.”

He lifted his head and met your eyes, a big, bright smile shining through a tearful haze.

“You’re really pregnant?” he asked, and it was all joy.

You all but collapsed against him then, putting your arms around his neck, holding him as he tested your head against your tummy. He put his arms around you and held you close, caught somewhere between laughing and crying.

“I’m really pregnant,” you said softly. “Jake, are you happy?”

He stood and spun you around, exultant, laughing like a little boy on Christmas morning.

“Yes, I'm happy!” He stopped spinning you to kiss you, sweet and messy and so in love with you. “Are you crazy, sparrow? I've never been so happy in my whole life!”

You looked up at him with your heart in your eyes. “You don't think it's a bad time?”

He hushed you with another kiss. “No way. It's the perfect time. Forget everything I ever said about it being a bad time.” His smile was so big and beautiful. “I can't believe we're having a baby, sparrow. You're gonna be such a good mom. I love you, and I'm so proud of you. I love you so much.”

“Oh, Jake,” you said gently. “I love you too.”

He held you close and you melted against him, safe, loved, so happy you were delirious with it. You were having a baby! It sang in every part of you, and you joined in his joyful tears and watery laughter.

“Let’s go tell everybody,” he said, taking your hand. “You want to?”

You nodded, feeling that you'd never been more in love with him than you were just then.

He led you back out to the porch and tried to keep the suspense up as your family watched your giddy, excited entrance. Everyone was sitting at the table now, JD fast asleep on Josh’s lap; Jake was grinning to beat the sun, bright and shining with pride and contagious joy as the two of you stood before the people you loved.

“I don't mean to steal the little man’s thunder,” Jake said, looking with heart-rending tenderness at his brother and his baby. “This a great birthday for a great little guy. But...” He looked to you, and you gave his hand and encouraging squeeze.

“Well, I guess we’ll be planning another birthday party soon,” Jake said, the words fairly bursting out, “because... we're having a baby!”

Your family erupted into a wonderful cacophony shocked questions and joyful hollering, chairs protesting as they were pushed back, pirate decorations toppling on the tabletop as you and Jake were surrounded with hugs and kisses and congratulations. JD woke, a little uneasy at all the happy noise, and Josh cuddled him close with a beaming smile and told him he was going to have a cousin very soon.

“Oh,” was all the little boy said, one hand tangled in Josh’s shirt as he looked on the gathering with a bleary smile.

Baby fairly tackled you, telling you how much she loved you, how happy she was for you. You stood in the circle of your family and couldn't help a few tears, but they were nothing but happy now.

After the boys reined in their joyful rowdiness and you had been hugged so many times you felt the pressure of love on you like a warm blanket, it was time for cake and presents and celebration of the first little Kiszka your family had been blessed with. JD loved all his presents, running around in his too-big pirate outfit from Sam and Danny and waving the sword you and Jake had gotten him, and the adults settled at the table to enjoy each other's company. In the light of the setting sun, sun-flushed cheeks sore from smiling and music playing and drinks flowing, you family was as beautiful to you as they had ever been.

Jake patted his lap, and you squeezed with him in the chair and welcomed his protective, loving arms around you.

“So, what are we naming this baby?” Sam asked, dealing out a hand of cards. “Jake junior?”

“Jack Sparrow,” Josh offered.

You laughed. “Maybe. I think it’ll be a girl, though.”

Jake looked up at you. “You know already?”

You kissed him. “Not officially, honey. I didn't mean to get you all excited. But... I don't know. I can feel it.”

Baby nodded as she gathered her cards. “I could tell with JD. Sometimes you just know.”

“It should be a bird name,” Danny suggested. “Since you guys are into that sort of thing.”

Jake smiled. “Yeah, it should.” His hand rested on your tummy, and you put your hands over his. “What about Robin?”

The name washed over you with a special kind of peace. “Okay,” you said softly. “Sparrow and her Jake-bird and their little Robin.”

Your family cooed over the name as you gave Jake a gentle kiss, and you knew it was perfect for your little girl.

Cake was eaten, drinks topped off, and music cranked up until it was well and truly a party. JD, with all the enthusiasm he could muster while falling asleep on Danny’s lap, joined in the various cheers and groans as you played cards together. You couldn't wait until you had another little Kiszka to join the party — your Robin would be around five months old at JD’s next birthday bash, and maybe there would even be another Kiszka-Wagner baby on the way. For now, though, everything was perfect, and you rested in it as you spent time with the ones you loved.

Jake pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

“I love you, sparrow,” he said gently, just for you. “And I love our little bird.”

You touched his cheek and drew him up to kiss your properly, loving the feel of his smile.

“Jakey,” you said softly. “We love you too.”

taglist: @viagvf @allieisacrybaby @itsafullmoon @spark-my-nature @anthemheatwave @xserenax-13 @musicspeaks @mountain-in-springtime @stardustsecret @alwaysonthemend @madneedshelp @josh-iamyour-mama @dannythedog @thecoldwind @woyayaofdreams @joshkiszkapunchmeintheface @lostoverseer @jakesguitarpick @heartcannotsow

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#i hope you love it!!#jake kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka fluff #jake kiszka x reader #greta van fleet fanfiction #gvf fanfiction #maddie writes stuff!#cabin fever fics #jake x sparrow

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christinebloodwrittings · 2 days

Text

To hunt or be hunted #12

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader x Lucifer Summary: Lurking in the shadows, someone awaits the perfect occasion to strike. Alastor talks with Lucifer. Warnings: Lilith.

Oh who is she, a misty memory. XD I'm back, I'm sorry for the delay, this took a lot of re write, next one will have smut hehhe.

Hazbin Taglist: @sakuraluna2468 @boogiemansbitch @mysterypotatoink @sibsteria @cherry-cola-100 @readergirlstuff @phoenixica24 @martinys-world @alientee @jellyroom2 @jewelsrules @ladyzaunis @zealousllamawolf @kittycat246 @shamblezzz @looking106

"Wake up," a voice from inside you warned you through the delicate rubbing of a cloth on the floor of the room. The dim light of the city showed you that it was very early in the morning, the subtle sound of footsteps made your ears perk up alertly, warning you of danger. In the darkness you couldn't see anything, an uncomfortable and acidic feeling spread in your chest when behind your neck, a hush became present.

"Keep quiet mutt, you'll wake him" who was that voice from? You had the king with his head on your chest, even in your unconscious you had in mind that he was more than capable of defending himself, however your instinct acted first. Your body assumed a considerable size, your fur stood up in such a way that it gave the illusion of ferocity and size. You acted as a shield over Lucifer, like a lion over his prey, seeing that no one was going to take it from you.

A hungry growl made the person behind you step back, "You seem to like him" arrogance, the voice was now to your eye level, in front of your face, "You have 3 seconds before I get you, leave now" you warned, your fans growing in size, whoever’s breath fanning across your face, a noticeable sweet alcohol smell invaded your nose.

"I would choose my words more carefully, if I were you" glowing purple eyes, the realization made you swallow a lump of saliva, but even with the shock you didn't lowered your stance, you made yourself bigger to cover Lucifer better.

"What are you doing here?" You whispered harshly, "It was a mistake, I made a rushed decision" you got a hold of her waist with your tail, yanking her backwards, "Too late" Lilith uncovered her head from the veil she was wearing, either she was making the air thicker or it just was the tension in the air, "He's my husband" she hissed, "Was your husband, he's mine now" you growled back.

"Do you think he shares that opinion?" She smiled, "I was there to support him after signing, he kisses in an adorable fashion" her smug faded away, her hair swirled in the air just like Charlie does. But just when you were ready to pounce on her, Lucifer moved around you, both of you froze in the act. You felt his hands taking snaking up to your back, following with a slight pressure that brought you down to him.

"This is not over" she walked over, her feather touch felt like a blaze next to your tail, she yanked on it earning a hiss from you, then she disappeared as fast as she arrived.

With a long heavy sigh you came down to your normal size after a few minutes, embracing Luci on your chest again. A rush of nausea hit Lucifer in his slumber, not enough to vomit, but enough to wake him, hearing your pounding heart almost shouting in your chest.

“Y/n, everything alright? Your heart is racing” he nuzzled against your neck, half asleep, "Just a nightmare, can I get a hug?" He left a kiss on your neck before pulling you to the side, your cheek on his neck, his arms holding your body close by your shoulders.

"Can I get a kiss?" He smiled, mindlessly so, "Sure" you pushed up your body, cupping one cheek with your hand and then smooshing a kiss on the other, his little giggle sent you to heaven.

"That's not what I meant" he laughed, his voice was delightfully hoarse, "Oh? His royal majesty was looking for something else?" You smiled, biting whatever urge you had to tell him about his ex-wife being in the room, and instead leaving some little kisses on the underside of his chin.

He opened one eye, glowing in the middle of the dark room, "Come on, just one kiss?" he looked down to you, a magnetic aura surrounding both. You leaned over his lips; the connection was instant and soft. The dance, one that was truly a bliss, brought out sighs that were perceived as prayers, hands that roamed up his chest to cup the pretty red of his cheeks and make a gentle fistful of his golden locks.

His as well, brought up your body on top of his, pulling on your waist and in fact that arm was tightly making sure you wouldn’t be free of his affections. The other, was playing with your tail, reaching the burnt end in which, without his knowledge, his ex-wife had placed a warning.

“You’re hurt” he broke the kiss, giving that at the touch of the affected area you hissed and your tail tried to yank itself away from his touch, “Maybe I was too close beside the fire place, didn’t noticed” you lied, carelessly, or so you thought it had sound like.

“Here” his magic got rid of the pain and the chance to get an awful burn scar, “Dr Morningstar to the rescue” you cheered lovingly, “I would hate to see you hurt, but if you ever are, I will gladly assist you” he purred, kissing your forehead, “Mm? With the sexy nurse outfit?” he bit your lip while chuckling.

“Naughty” he teased, “Prideful” he took out his tongue at your comeback, making you giggle, “You like me that way” he smirked. Your smile was adorable, yet to him, it seem that it didn’t reached your eyes, so he went ahead and asked “Is something bothering you?” with a sleepy but concerned face.

‘Better now than tomorrow’ you thought, “I have something to ask, but I don’t want to hurt you” you began with the shittiest line ever, adding to nerves he just found out he was feeling. “Ask” he inquired, “I find myself divided, I spoke to Alastor about it, but I don’t know if-“ he cut you off before you could ramble, “You like him” he had a face that was unreadable, but he was right, so you nodded, “And what about me?” you ran your fingers through his hair, “I like you the same way” he sighed feeling your hand comb his locks.

“I’m sorry” you began after a while, “I would never ask a question of this nature in my life, much less to someone who wants to court me, however it weighs me to feel, when I am alone, divided. Your affection is gentle, bright, I feel undeserving of you. With Alastor it is different, it is almost as if we were hunting each other, a battle for power and domination” he opened an eye, paying you his upmost attention.

“With you, I feel hunted, desired, I find myself in the decision to hunt, or be hunted, both exciting me to no end” he saw in your words and your eyes, a weird type of desire, one he’d rather have all to himself, “I have become an addict to the attention you two provided, but sadly, if I am to be put in the position to choose, I rather hurt no one any further” he cleared his throat, positioning on top of you this time, to have a clear view of your face.

“And how would this go? Uhm? You think he’ll be open to this?” he wasn’t trying to sound defensive, but he was hoping Alastor would say no to the idea, at the same time, if he didn’t you would rather be single. “I suppose so, it was his idea” you shrugged as he hummed, “I’m not sleeping a single night without you, if he wants to go ahead with this, he’ll either have to occupy the other side of the bed or spend it alone” he stated.

Your heart fluttered imagining yourself being the center on a sandwich in between both of them, “He’ll ask you about this matter later today, I just wanted you to hear it from me first” he kissed down on your cheek, “I appreciate it. I believe you have a question?” to his smirk you cheekily smiled, “Will you consider a relationship with me?” you raised a golden blush on his cheeks, “And Alastor” his eye turn made you laugh and pinch his sides, “No, you would be with me, if you want anything with him that’s another conversation entirely” he matched your energy, pinching your sides as well.

“I am going to polish the details of this deal” you kissed his forehead, “So is that a-“ he interrupted you with more kisses and a tight embrace, “Yes, if it would make you happy, Ozzie had spoken once or twice about couples of more than two” but of course with Lilith wasn’t an option, not with her ill temper.

“If it makes you uncomfortable you really don’t have to-“ he kissed your lips, shushing you immediately, “Will I still wake up to you every morning? Will you still brush my hair? I just want you, in whatever shape you allow me to” you realized he was still in his suit, so you slid off his vest, “It will be my pleasure, my king” he groaned with a smile, “My name, Y/n, please” you giggled, his childish manners sometimes impressed you, for a man his age, “Lucifer” content he nuzzled against your neck.

“You have plans for today?” you finally managed to remove each piece of clothing from the waist up, admiring his milky white skin again, “I have to do my monthly check of my company, I’ll do breakfast and lunch, then I’m off, how about you?” you sighed thinking about the immense amount of paperwork that awaited you at the office.

“Well, miss you, then I have a tower of paperwork regarding other rings that has been accumulating the past seven years, help Charlie around, chat with the busboy, then have you back after or before dinner” he hummed against your neck, happy to feel your hands on his bare skin.

“I would like to have intimate business with you, but I want to make it special, I do not know how though” you couldn’t see it, but his tail was moving as if it was wagging, “How about you join me for a bath when you return? See where the night takes us afterwards” you eyed the pile of rubber ducks on the corner of the room.

“Will there be a rubber duck floating in between the bubbles?” he smiled, “You want to choose one?” he clicked his fingers, making himself wear his ducky pajamas, as he felt the excitement grow in his heart, “I adore the one with the fancy white hat, also the lawyer” the one of the hat looks much like him.

🍎📻

Later in the afternoon, the king heard a knock on his door. Taking a deep sigh he signed the last document before walking towards the door. Alastor wore a new deep burgundy suit, it had specks of gold on the lapels, very subtle yet elegant, just for the occasion.

“We have a matter in our hands” Alastor's little smile was going to make the king lose his patience one day, but for you, he would remain at least cordial. “I believe so too” he watch the demon just come inside his room and make himself comfortable.

“She wants both of us” it was no surprise for Lucifer anymore, so he snickered, “Are you willing to spend your nights alone?” Alastor made it seem as if he didn’t cared to spend his night alone, he didn’t, but if he could hear your heart as he slept, even better.

“I am rarely a man of physical contact; she can find that in you most often” not entirely a lie, but one good enough to send a bitter shot down his throat, “Says the man that has fucked her twice” his red blood boiled thinking he may have seen everything you have done with him, but is not as he didn’t knew.

“Did you enjoyed watching through the lock? Next time I’ll do you a solid and invite you to watch” he pushed his luck, he noticed because Lucifer’s face shifted to a goat’s skull, hollow and dark, in where the cavities of his eyes turned into two flames of hellfire. “Don’t test me Alastor, I’m not just a man” his distorted voice echoed in between the room and the deer’s bones.

“I Just want her to be happy” he bit down a tremor in his voice, watching his face go back to normal, “We have reached common ground” Lucifer went back to his documents, “Three days a week, I ask her to be with me” the king laughed, “I told her, and I’ll repeat it to you, I am not spending the night without her” Alastor felt very cocky when he uttered the next phrasing, “Then you’ll have me as well in your bed” to his surprise, the king didn’t cared.

“You can stand there and stare, for all I care, my condition remains” Lucifer saw in between the permits a lawsuit against your company, he denied the lawsuit with a nice remark that they can go to hell, while almost nailing the denied stamp against the paper.

“We should plan for dates as well?” Alastor asked, making a calendar appear in the air, “Just so we don’t stump one another” the king agreed, “Very well, but my relationship is with her only, I hold no sentiment towards you” he threatened, the wendigo made a snarl as he rolled his tongue to respond, “Likewise”.

“That snake on her arm, should we be concerned?” Lucifer hummed a yes, “It’s part of the deal, we have to ensure it disappears”, he had thought it was a tattoo, not that it had anything to do with your suicidal feelings, “What will happen if we don’t?” Lucifer only confirmed his thoughts, “It will reach her heart and she will die”.

Alastor hummed in understanding, offering his hand to the king, “For this purpose only, I want to set a truce, I hate you anyways, but she…might be worth it”, with an unnecessary aggressiveness he took the deer’s hand and shook in the deal, without voodoo attached, much to Alastor’s discomfort “Truce, for now”.

🍎📻

The heat of an unknown fire suffocated the room that was your office, the candle on your desk cried until it burned down into the wood. "I didn't think you were this famous, Axe-man” the voice from this morning, made herself comfortable on the couch behind you.

“Afternoon, my queen, I thought that since our disagreement this morning, you would take the hint, I see that is not the case” It didn't matter how brave you could be, just how cunning, if she got angry and did something impulsive you could dodge her and use the divine light that you kept in a bottle inside your boot, that Adam was very irresponsible with something so destructive.

“What do you plan to do, marry him and be queen?” she took your hair in her claws, braiding a few locks, “If my intentions were so simple, we wouldn’t be having this conversation, not with you on your feet at least” you would’ve had her hanged if you were queen of hell, or better yet, decapitated.

“Watch your words, I’m still your queen!” she yelled, her eyes glowing like purple blazes. “As I understand it, you have to be married to the king for his title to give you any power, unfortunately you undid it on a single piece of paper” she emitted a snarl, unearthly, not like any animal or demon you had ever heard.

“What I don’t understand, is why you desire to pretend you can feel anything but bloodlust” she spit on a side of your face, as you made calculations of winnings and loses of the last month. “If you’d wanted me dead, you would’ve done it already” she laughed, “That’s true, I need you to do something for me” it was your time to laugh, “What makes you think I’ll do squat for you?”.

She took her sweet time to answer, before showing you a contract with Alastor’s living name, “Because I own Alastor’s soul” she had the nerve to laugh in your face, but you didn’t minded her bullshit, “And the edge of my axe can cut soul agreements” that was a lie, but oh how you wished you had your soul in hand.

“Then why you haven’t cut your own?” ‘Fuck that’s a good question!’ you cursed internally, “I desire death, a pleasure your daughter has denied me nine years today, but I think my fate has changed paths, and also your daughter hid it from me” and a true fact, after what happened with Valentino and Vox she was not happy and hid your axe.

“And you think my husband can make you want to live?” no, but you could try believing that he wanted to, “He seemed pretty…decided” she smiled wickedly at that meek answer, “But do you?”, your silence told her everything she needed to crush you.

“Oh, poor Y/n, so high was your fame, your wealth, you had everything. But without your daughter, without that light to guide you, you’re empty. Do you believe your soul is deserving of any value, or even salvation? You are nothing without her, and you will not find her when you die. Do you believe that death will offer mercy, to a corrupt soul like yours? One that bears two thousand souls in their hands, the same ones that will subject you to your torment for the rest of eternity” she spoke as if she could see the hands of the souls you killed, holding your feet down.

And yet, despite how much her intimidation stabbed though your human soul, “Undermining me will be in vain, I am aware of my torments, and the burden that they mean, and the souls bound to me by contract as well. I do not need someone like you to remind me” and you made a mistake, by being the first one to be annoyed, accentuating her lack of status or how little she meant to you.

“Someone like me? Explain yourself” she was indeed offended, meanwhile you were trying your best not to laugh, "I'll be honest with you, I'm a horrible person, when I kill I don't feel fear nor remorse. However, I wouldn't abandon my daughter for anything in the world. But, by you being the first woman, I might cut you some slack, you didn't had anyone to teach you how to be a mother” you’ve been holding that one nine years.

The happiness and satisfaction that it caused you to cast that line at her lowered the quality of your spell to disguise your appearance, in this way Lilith was able to briefly observe the wounds of your battle with Charlie. Astonished, she wanted to knock, out of curiosity rather, you got up from the table, knocking over the chair in the process, so that what happened that morning wouldn’t happen again.

“Those scars” she finally spoke, “Courtesy of your daughter” you were highly defensive, ears pulled back and a growl here and there. “She’s strong” she wasn’t wrong, “With a sight she pulverized my horns, I can’t guarantee what will happen if she sees you, but mark my words…” you walked so close to her, she had to look down to be on your eye level.

“If she orders me to kill you, I will” and with pleasure, but you omitted that part, “He’ll never forgive you” you knew that from the very beginning, “And I’ll die with that in mind” and you were fine with it.

“I despise you” it was her turn to growl, but you smiled and teasingly added, “And yet you do nothing about it” you noticed how purple was her lipstick, and wondered where she got it. “If I kill you, Lucifer will be angry, and I’ll be doing you a favor” ‘Oh she would ruin her manicure’ you thought, breathing in an apple scented perfume, “That perfume is addictive” you mean that as sarcasm but didn’t quite sounded like it, “He loves it” ‘What is this, the wife and the lover?’ you laughed internally before letting out something petty and pathetic, “Used to” like a teenager fighting for a boy.

Unfortunately, she wasn't going to give you a reason to attack her, and neither were you, so like the cold war, she and you were just threatening each other trapped a very strange sexual tension.

“A holy one is in the chamber, get away from her!” When you thought your day couldn't get any weirder, your assistant walked through the door with a loaded Carmine Holy-rifle. “Careful, my queen, you have yet to be dead” she looked at you with hate as if you had planned it, then smoke started to fill the room, “This isn’t over” you laughed to that in response “That’s twice today”.

She rambled a “Well, next time will be the last” and then the smoke went away along with her.

All you could do was chuckle and mutter a decisive, “Bring it”.

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