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#but a little while ago I was discussing this and it turns out he did not realize this was the purpose
aboggoblin · 19 hours
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Just a Favor | pt 6 | Gwynriel
✦ This one is short but the next one has smut so it evens out lol
✦ Warnings: vague talk of intimacy (discussing accepting the bond)
✦ Word Count: 1k
✦ AO3 Link
✦ Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5
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Gwyn and Azriel made their way back to the House of Wind later that night. Between kisses and laughter and talking, far more time had passed than they had realized. Both were surrounded in a happy glow, oblivious to everything but the contented hum of the bond. They could not bear to separate just yet, settling into the private library at the House to talk to just a little longer.
All the while, Gwyn was planning her own moment. She was determined to sweep him away as he had done for her.
***
Azriel woke late the next morning, so late that training had ended a half hour before. At first, the only thing he could feel was that glimmering golden thread. He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, blinking in the bright sunlight.
That happiness faded a little as he caught sight of his shadows. They were restless, like they'd been up before him and waiting for him to wake. And one was missing.
He jumped up from the bed and quickly pulled on his clothes, running a hand through his bed-head to smooth it down. He grabbed a pair of boots, stuffed clean socks into them, and ran out of his room.
Nesta and Cassian lounged in the sitting room off of the kitchen. Their heads snapped up in tandem, eyes dragging over him.
“Have you seen Gwyn?” He asked, the words coming out in a rush. He did not know how to explain why he knew that Gwyn and the missing shadow would be in the same place. A gut feeling, he supposed.
“She left a while ago,” Nesta watched him with an expression he couldn't name, “I don't know where though.”
Azriel grimaced and turned on his heel in the direction of the balcony.
“See you in a while, brother,” Cassian chuckled. And then grumbled when Nesta elbowed him.
Azriel ignored them both, tugging on his socks and boots, knotting the laces as quickly as he could. His shadows buzzed with energy.
Take me to her. He pleaded. He couldn't tell if they were worried or excited, another unusual thing. He could always read them well.
Priestess. Valkyrie. Love. Was their response.
The shadows carried him toward the mountains. He found himself standing on the edge of a green meadow, shrouded in mist. The sky overhead was filled with deep grey clouds, threatening to overflow at any moment.
And there was Gwyn, standing beside a picnic blanket, draped in a gauzy white dress with flowers in her hair. She smiled at him, her teal eyes and copper hair so bright against the green and grey around her. The missing shadow swirled around her body.
Relief filled Azriel's being, the rest of his shadows dancing to meet her and their lost friend. She was alright.
“What is this?” He asked, a smile spreading as he walked toward her. A large picnic basket sat in the grass beside the blanket. Thunder rumbled in the distance but he barely heard it.
“They found you,” Gwyn grinned, clasping her hands together. She looked so beautiful like this, the flowy dress hugging her curves and fluttering around her shoulders and ankles. The flowers tucked into her braids matched the ones dotted through the meadow.
“I have no idea why one of my shadows decided to leave and pester you,” He shook his head, resisting the urge to reach out and pull her close. To feel her form beneath his hands.
“Oh, I called it,” She said, eyes gleaming as she tilted her head to the side, “I needed help with my surprise.”
Azriel stared at her in awe. It hardly seemed possible, and yet….Gwyn was full of surprises. Gentle scattered raindrops began to fall around them.
“I didn't think it would rain,” She wrinkled her nose, “The clouds gathered so fast. We may have to rethink the location.”
“What's the surprise?” Azriel swallowed hard, looking down at the picnic basket. Dare he hope?
“I made food,” She said softly, suddenly shy, “I asked Cassian what kinds of foods they cook for each other in the camps and he said sourdough bread was one of them. So I made sourdough bread.”
She gestured toward the basket. Azriel could not help the thing stirring in his stomach.
“But…” He started, his voice low and gravelly, “The bond…if I eat it, then-”
“I know,” Gwyn blushed and took a step toward him, fiddling with her dress, “I realized that I am ready. If it was anyone else, maybe not. But since it's you….”
She locked eyes with him, shy and searching. His gaze was full of desire, admiration, and disbelief that she was his. The rain was becoming more steady, now, making the fabric of her dress see through and revealing the freckled skin underneath. Azriel did not think he minded the rain so much.
“But I…” He said, cursing his brain for being overcome by the shape of her body in that dress, “And you-”
“Azriel,” Gwyn cut him off, “I packed a bag.”
“You…packed a bag?” He repeated. He noticed for the first time the backpack sitting beside the picnic basket. How observant he was, today.
“Yes,” She chuckled, “With clothes and tonic. And Rhysand told Clotho I will be gone. I made you food and I packed a bag.”
Azriel took a shaky breath and brought his hands to rest on her waist. She tossed her arms around his neck and smiled up at him with rosy cheeks.
“So whisk me away, shadowsinger,” She whispered, leaning in so close that her lips nearly brushed his.
“Where to, Valkyrie?” He said, “There's a few options.”
“I will not honeymoon in the House of Wind and subject myself to that teasing,” She pursed her lips, eyes twinkling. The raindrops fell heavier, a few sparkling in her hair like dew drops.
“Then there's my apartment in Velaris, or the cabin in the mountains,” He was not particularly fond of the idea of Nesta and Cassian meddling with things.
“I am very intrigued by your secret apartment, but the cabin sounds farthest away from prying eyes. And if we don't get out of the rain soon, my bread will be ruined.”
“Cabin it is,” Azriel reluctantly let her go and tossed her backpack over his shoulder. She gathered the blanket and basket in her arms and tucked her hand into his.
She gave him one more wide grin before they winnowed, and Azriel's heart was so full it ached.
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kingkonoha · 2 months
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𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊!
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♡ — 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: your first time having sex & becoming friends with benefits with the jjk men — nanami, geto, & gojo.
♡ — 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓: 18+ ONLY // MDNI — smut, penetration, unprotected, oral, geto is mean, jealousy, masturbation, reader gets walked in on, 69 position, brief spanking, fem reader, reader wears a skirt.
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𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈
Eating out his old classmate wasn’t something Kento had ever imagined himself doing.
He had grown up with you, a fellow sorcerer whom he met as a first-year eleven years ago. You did everything together back then — fought curses, shared lunches, trained until your bodies ached from exhaustion — so, perhaps, it was only natural that you would both end up sleeping together now.
Nanami had invited you over to his spacious house one starry night. The plan was to go over the tedious details regarding your next mission as first-grade sorcerers, and after a while of sitting at his dining table and discussing battle plans, it was time to take a break.
Expensive wine was poured into two glasses. After a couple of sips — and moving from his dining room to his living room couch, wanting a change of scenery — you smiled at your long-time friend.
“Remember when you used to dress like an emo kid?” Chuckling softly, you sat your glass of wine down on his coffee table.
“Don’t remind me,” Kento smiled a bit, taking a sip of his beverage as he tossed his arm over the back of the couch. “Why’d you bring that up?”
“I was just thinking about how much you’ve changed. You’re all buff and attractive now. It’s impressive.”
Kento’s eyes darted down to your legs. Your skirt had risen more than you had intended, and while Kento was a gentleman who would have pretended not to notice, he wasn’t in the mood to be on his best behavior right now.
Blame the alcohol.
Those brown eyes of his scanned your legs and thighs.
He leaned forward and placed his glass of wine on a nearby coaster.
“So, legs are your weakness, huh?”
Your bold words caught him by surprise.
When he made eye contact with you, you flickered your seductive gaze down to his noticeable bulge.
The stretched cloth of his nice pants had told you just how badly he wanted to leave wet kisses over those gorgeous legs of yours and mark your thighs with hickeys that would peek out from underneath your short skirt.
“I guess they are,” Kento softly bit his lip for a brief second. “I don’t think I’ll be able to concentrate on our work with this . . . problem of mine.”
“I can fix it, then.”
Despite your words, Kento didn’t wait for you to make the first move. He was a patient man when it came to being put on hold during business calls or waiting in line at the grocery store, but not when it came to fucking you.
Kento lifted you off of the couch, his hands gripping your ass as you giggled a bit, and he took you to his bedroom.
Your old classmate tossed you onto his bed and lowered his head between your thighs.
With his hands, he held your legs open, and his callused fingertips rubbed your soft skin as he kissed your clit through your underwear.
Your little gasp was all the encouragement he needed. Pushing your underwear to the side, Kento sucked and rapidly licked at your delicious clit, moaning softly as he did so.
All he wanted was for you to cum in his mouth. He had to taste it on his tongue and cherish the flavor of you.
And when your juices flooded his mouth, he felt like a fool for waiting this long to taste his best friend.
𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎
You were angry with him — that’s how the fucking started.
After a frustrating trip to the grocery store, you stepped into your apartment with Suguru following closely behind. He sat down the three bags of groceries on your kitchen island, and shut your front door.
“I can’t believe you, Suguru.” You turned to face him, frowning up at the dark-haired man. “You’re not my fucking boyfriend, alright? You had no right to scare off that guy I was talking to.”
Suguru’s eyes darted down to your pouty lips.
You were right.
He wasn’t your boyfriend.
But he couldn’t stand the sight of that guy making you laugh, and Suguru could tell that the stranger was building up the courage to ask you for your phone number.
So, Suguru approached you. Your best friend calmly cupped your face and pressed his lips against yours. It wasn’t a public-friendly kiss, either. It was a steamy one. He moaned softly, swirling his tongue around yours, and he didn’t pull away until the man walked off, stammering out some sort of awkward apology.
You were stunned, to say the least.
After all, the most physical contact that ever occurred between you and Suguru was a brief hug now and then.
But, even so, your best friend managed to dampen your panties, and he could easily tell.
“I’m not about to argue with you,” Suguru replied calmly. He walked away from you and stepped into the kitchen, opening a bag as he started to put your groceries away.
“Don’t just walk away. Your little prank or whatever scared off someone who might have been interested in me. I can’t believe you’d do something like that and think it’s okay,” you paused, as he was completely unbothered until you muttered something under your breath: “You’re such an asshole.”
Suguru instantly froze. He put your butter in the fridge, closed it, and looked at you.
“Come here, Y/N.”
That tone. Your legs were moving as if they had a mind of their own — despite how badly you wanted to ignore him and have an attitude.
Suddenly, Suguru grabbed your waist, turned you around, and leaned you over the kitchen island. When he pressed his hard bulge against your ass, you gasped softly.
Suguru leaned across your back, pressing his lips against your ear.
“Don’t speak to me like that again. I’ll scare off whoever I need to because you’re mine. Think you can tease me with your slutty outfits for years and then find some other guy?”
A small yelp erupted from your throat when Suguru suddenly slapped your ass — and he did it twice.
“Suguru,” you whined pathetically. “Just fuck me already.”
“Nuh-uh, don’t rush me.”
You whined once again, and Suguru grinned.
Slowly, moving at a painfully teasing pace, he unbuckled his belt.
Then, he lifted your skirt.
He massaged your ass.
He ran his fingers over your pussy.
For a while, he did everything except fuck you.
And when he finally gave in — his rock-hard cock becoming much too painful to continue without some sort of relief — he moved your panties to the side and slid into your awaiting hole.
He roughly pushed you over the kitchen island even more until your feet couldn’t touch the ground, knocking over some groceries as he did so.
Thrusting in and out of you at a quick pace, he moaned over the feeling of your tight pussy.
“Suguru!” You shouted, the feeling of his cock stuffing your pussy was starting to drive you crazy.
“Shut up,” Suguru gripped your hips. “I don’t wanna hear anything from you. Just shut up and take my cock.”
It was only a matter of time before you came all over his dick. He continued to fuck your creamy cunt until his own cum shot out of him and poured inside of you, and he moaned your name like it was a sinful prayer.
He pulled out of you slowly. You got off the island and faced him.
“I’m a great friend, aren’t I?” He asked, but giving you no time to respond, he kissed you deeply once again, moaning into your mouth.
𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎
Satoru Gojo has wanted to fuck you since the moment he first saw you.
For five years straight, he had to pacify his desires by jerking his cock to whatever scenarios his imagination could cook up, but it wasn’t enough. As he came into his fist, he wished that he could cum inside of your tight hole instead.
But, little did he know, you felt the same way.
In fact, you had simply forgotten that your dear friend was coming over to hang out with you one day.
Being as Satoru had his own set of keys to your home, he walked into your apartment without announcing himself.
That was when he heard the soft moans.
He approached your bedroom cautiously, and with your door wide open, you saw him instantly and froze.
Your legs were spread apart with your hand in your panties. And, along with that, he saw your phone screen, which displayed a shirtless photo of him.
You took that picture yourself when you both went to the beach a few months ago.
“Don’t stop on my account, you little pervert,” he teased, unable to fight off the urge to grin.
“I-“
“Ya know,” Satoru interrupted, stepping into your room and getting on your bed. “You’ve been getting off to a picture of me instead of just fucking me in real life, and that kinda ticks me off.”
“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, unable to hide your embarrassment. “This is so . . .”
“Don’t be embarrassed.” Satoru eyed your hand, which was still inside of your underwear. “Why don’t you sit on my face to make it up to me?”
It was a daring request, and your shocked facial expression made Satoru smirk a bit.
He didn’t just want to eat your pussy, he wanted to be smothered by it.
And he was sick of waiting.
When you slowly lowered yourself over his face, your cautiousness frustrating him, he grabbed you and shoved you down onto his mouth.
Instantly, his tongue started to lap at your pussy.
He was already in heaven, close to cumming untouched based on the taste of your pussy and the sound of your moans alone, but when you suddenly leaned over and pulled his cock out of his pants, he had to fight the urge to cum into your mouth right then.
He swirled his tongue around your clit, and you circled yours around his tip.
But you wouldn’t fully take him down your throat just yet. How could you treat a friend that way?
Satoru started to squirm around — wrapping his hands around your thighs so you couldn’t lift yourself off of his face — and he tried to buck his hips and thrust himself into your mouth.
You got the hint, but teasing him was fun.
At least, it was until he stopped licking your clit, and instead started to swirl his tongue around it, purposely missing your sensitive button.
You whined, and finally, you sucked your friend’s big cock properly.
He moaned against your clit before attaching his lips to it and sucking on it, eager to taste you.
As friends, you and Satoru often had unofficial competitions with each other.
It was an unspoken conversation, but you and Satoru knew well that you were both trying to see who could make the other person cum first.
He ate you out more messily, holding on to your ass cheeks as he dragged his tongue across every inch of your sweet pussy.
You started to bop your head faster, massaging your tongue against his veins.
However, you couldn’t fight against the pleasure starting to overwhelm you, and you came first.
He shot his load into your mouth shortly after, but you could feel him grinning in victory as he slurped down your juices.
He didn’t let you off of his face until he was finished cleaning you up.
Defeatedly, you raised yourself off of him.
“You cheated,” you said jokingly.
“I won fair and square, baby.” Satoru looked up at you, and he said, “Since I won, why don’t you be a good friend and ride my cock?”
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🏷️: @sad-darksoul
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imperihoe-writes · 7 months
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After Hours
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Simon 'Ghost' Riley / fem!Reader
Summary:  It's always good to let off some steam during particularly demanding missions, but this time Ghost needs to give the Reader some extra attention to get her out of work mode. 
Content:  unprotected sex, cowgirl, oral, fingering, mate press ↳ call-sign for the reader is Wasp, no other name mentions
Word Count:  2k
Notes: An idea I had a little while ago, and since I'm having a long weekend... I thought I'd write some filth ✊🏻😔 I imagine Wasp to take on a similar role as Q in James Bond. NOT FOR MINORS.
(*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.゚ ♡
"Fuckin' hell, look at you," Ghost grunted as he palmed the ass cheeks pressed on his lap, fingers digging into soft flesh none too gently, just how they both liked it. 
Wasp breathed heavily above him, tight shirt clinging to her stomach and chest as she circled her hips and allowed Ghost to slide deeper into her inch by inch.
Sweat made dark curls stick to her nape and temples, the hot and dry air wafting in through the office window bringing no relief. They'd been at it for a little while, with Ghost's mask hitched up over his mouth and nose, soft lips and sharp teeth closing around the fabric obscuring her boobs, biting into one of the sensitive nipples. 
They both groaned as her rhythm stuttered and Wasp clenched around Ghost's cock, her hands on his tactical vest and shoulders pulling him closer. Her thighs shook around his waist, tired but desperate all the same. 
She tried to let go, to just be in the moment with the man that had started to haunt most of her waking hours on the field and off, but something wasn‘t clicking that night. 
Wasp couldn't stop thinking about the third leg of the mission, wondered if her colleague pulling through the night shift was doing everything they had discussed, how long it would take them to contact her if anything went wrong, and did she leave her phone on loud? Maybe she should check in with them just in case-
"You still with me, luv?" 
It was hard to tell with him sometimes, but Ghost sounded amused.
"Yeah," she breathed out, moving her hips again but winced a little at the drag in her core, how the glide wasn't as smooth anymore. All the slickness that had practically been pouring out of her when she spotted the bulky frame of her favourite Lieutenant hovering in the door seemed to have dried up sometime between then and now. 
Way to fucking go, Wasp. 
The tremors in her thighs had gotten worse, and she was hardly able to push herself up and down anymore. When was the last time she had slept again? She could have sworn it had been yesterday, or perhaps the morning before that-
Big hands stilled her hips, Ghost's cargo pants and metal zipper pressing into the sensitive flesh of her pussy as he shifted. They rarely talked when they fucked, a silent agreement to leave shit behind for the precious minutes they were able to steal here and there. His mouth found her cheek and jaw as Ghost circled his thumbs over her hipbones. 
Riding him was one of her guilty pleasures, simply because of the fact that the Englishman often turned into such a needy panting mess below her. But she wouldn't be able to like this, and they had run out of lube last week.
Her phone screen flashed brightly once, and her eyes immediately darted towards it, anxious. So it was on silent after all. Wasp could have sworn she hadn't turned off the volume, but with the slight fuzziness that always accompanied lack of sleep, she couldn't be too sure. 
But maybe it was an agent in the field messaging her off-the-clock or her team mate had run into trouble after all-
Ghost slid his calloused hands underneath her thighs, lifting her off of him with ease. His still-hard dick slid out of her slowly, and she moaned a little at the hot wetness of his crown as he kept fucking just the tip back into her, pre-cum easing the way but not quite enough.
Frustration at her body's inability to perform for him made her clamp up even more and Wasp sighed in irritation.
Ghost's half-lidded eyes roamed over her face in the dark, and she saw him open his scarred lips to say something when her phone lit up on the desk again. He saw her gaze flicker over to it, and laughed softly, mockingly.
"No, I don't think so," he said, voice dark.
Suddenly, her world tilted and Ghost was above her, heavy body pressing hers into the soft leather of the couch she'd been fucking him on. He pulled off his mask entirely, blonde curls hanging low over his eyes as he stared down at her, legs spread open around his waist and flushed.
He straightened up a little more, and Wasp could see sweat running down his neck as Ghost slowly unclasped his tactical vest before letting it fall to the ground with soft clinking noises. His shirt followed suit, and she had to bite her lip hard to hold back any embarrassing sounds of pleasure at the sight of him. 
I'm not a teenage girl fawning over a movie star, she reminded herself, but it was hard to hold onto that thought when Ghost looked like an evil god hovering over her, ready to steal her away in the middle of the night.
His hands slid under the hem of her shirt, pulling it up until her breasts and hard nipples were exposed, dark eyes gleaming at the lack of a bra. 
Ghost leaned down to capture the same one he had bitten into earlier in his mouth, tongue running over the sensitive skin until she panted. He supported her lower back as she arched into him, eyes closed now and breathing in his musky scent.
Ghost sucked her nipple for a moment, leaving a wet trail as his mouth moved lower and over her ribs and soft stomach. He knelt in front of the low couch, pulling Wasp insistently closer by the hips again until she closed her thighs around his head and rested them on his shoulders with a shudder.
"Simon," she pleaded, tired but horny beyond anything she'd felt in ages. 
He smirked into the skin of her thigh, then buried his face between her legs completely, licking a slow wet trail from her entrance to her clit. Wasp convulsed a little at the sensation, mouth opening, but before she had the chance to say anything more, Ghost had sucked her clit into that talented mouth, tonguing it.
A high-pitched sound escaped her throat, and fingernails dug into the smooth leather beneath her as Ghost licked and sucked, his mouth coated from her newly gushing juices and his spit. Thick fingers buried themselves inside her pussy, stretching and curling as he pumped them in and out.
Her orgasm tore through her unexpectedly, hot waves and tingles accumulating in her legs and belly as she came, twitching and panting underneath him.
Ghost was slow to stop, overstimulating her with a glint in his eyes. He stared at her from between her thighs, pale lashes brushing his cheekbones. 
Withdrawing only a little, he wiped his mouth with a quirk of his lips, but she was already propping herself up further on her elbows and leaned down to kiss him with all the fucked-out bliss she felt. His smile faded as he kissed her back urgently, huge body enveloping her as Wasp pulled him up and over.
His cock throbbed between them as he came to rest near her glistening folds, and Ghost groaned from the slick slide, long fingers covering both himself and her pussy with enough pressure to send shocks of pleasure through her sensitive clit whenever his thick head brushed over it.
Suddenly, Ghost was kissing her again, tongue playing with hers as they both panted and then he grabbed the underside of her knees firmly, pushing them back and back. Towards her torso, until her ankles were somewhere over his shoulders and everything on display for his hungry gaze. 
Folded in half as she was, there was little more that Wasp could do than take it. He didn't even need to use his hands to guide himself, Ghost was precise and patient enough to nudge her relaxed entrance with his cock on the first try, and then he slid back in.
Wasp's eyes rolled into the back of her head as her breath hitched. He was a big man all over, but something about this position made him feel even thicker and longer than usual. There was no telling where Ghost began and she ended, his cock so deep and hot inside of her that it made her see stars. 
He didn't give her much time to adjust, but that suited Wasp just fine. His hips snapped up into her, wet sounds between them as Ghost pushed her knees into her chest and simply took his pleasure, used her body how he wanted. He split her open over and over again, withdrawing almost completely before driving back down into her pussy, one knee supporting himself on the couch with the other foot still firmly on the ground.
Wasp clawed into the leather, moaning for real this time until she worried that somebody might hear. Ghost bit into the skin next to her knee as his hips jerked and waist flexed, the throbbing cock inside dragging over her spongy walls.
"Hold it," he commanded her, and without thinking, Wasp slid one of her own hands into place behind her right knee, holding on for dear life as Ghost slid his thumb into the small space between them, circling her clit with so much pressure that she arched into him. He reached places that no other man ever had inside of her, the sensation almost painful but addicting. Her pussy spasmed around him as he continued to circle and rub her, his hot breath hitting her neck, pretty face screwed up in pleasure at the way Wasp tightened around him again and again. 
Her second climax was slower to build, but just as intense as the first. She had to slap her other hand over her mouth to muffle the high keening noise in her throat, Ghost groaning softly over and over as his thrusts became jerky and impossibly deeper.
It only took him a few seconds longer, then she felt him throb heavily and withdraw in haste, just as the first spurts of hot semen shot out of him and over her stomach. Ghost pressed himself closer, crushing her a little under his weight as he chased through his orgasm, dick trapped between them as it slid through his own release and her juices.
They both panted deeply, sweaty and satisfied. The faint glow of the desert moon illuminated his face in a way that made her blush. Gently releasing her leg, Ghost pulled her knees and thighs around his waist before flipping them around with a deep sigh. 
He was still wearing his cargo pants and they chaved her a little, but Wasp didn't care enough to complain. His big, heavy hand came to rest on her hair and she snuggled closer to him, uncaring about the mess between them as her eyes fell shut and their breathing evened out.
On the desk, her phone lit up once more with the third message in a row, a small soap emoji glowing next to the group chat notifications.
They still have tickets for the Barbie premiere!
Anyone still awake? 
Okay, I booked like six seats so you daft cunts better show up tomorrow.
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My first tumblr work for COD! I hope you liked it, I‘ll be updating the masterlist whenever I post something new! ✨
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bysaber · 7 months
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weeping dragon
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pairing: neuvillette x fem!reader
summary: neuvillette thinks he isn’t deserving of your love.
content: cliche !!!, reader trapped in his house bc of rain, lil antsy but happy ending
wc: 800
a/n: mm hii!! first fic here! I hope you enjoy it I kind of wrote it in twenty minutes and I’m just publishing it without beta reading bc (we die like men) I’m just too in love with neuv and I want to share it with the world lolol
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Neuvillette couldn’t bring himself to even think about making a move.
He kept many secrets, and every time he faced your bright smile he would remember it was not his place to disturb your peace. After all, how could a young woman like you endure the dangerous claws of a dragon?
You had stopped by his house to discuss the latest trial and his emotions got the best of him, causing a rain to start pouring.
A storm was approaching; lighting was seen through the window and low thunders could be heard. Neuvillette plagued himself under his breath, hoping there would be a day where he could better control his feelings.
“Here,” he said as he handed you the cup of tea. You watched the lighting curiously, “I do not think the storm will pass for a few hours. You should stay. For the night, I mean.”
You took the cup of tea and averted your eyes from the window to Neuvillette’s face. You studied him with caution, as if it was the first time you ever saw the man — even though you worked together for many months.
“Are you okay?” you asked, ignoring completely his offer.
The words got stuck in his throat and, for a few seconds, he really thought he wouldn’t answer. The man sipped on his tea, his mind racing while trying to figure out why you would ask that all of the sudden. “May I ask why are you asking me such a question?”
It was a small gesture, but he saw it all the same; the way you flexed your hand. There was something you wanted to grab?
Something you wanted to hold?
“They say… It rains when the Hydro Dragon weeps. Yeah, that's what they say,” you murmured and once again looked out the window. To the storm. “The Hydro Dragon. That would be you, right?”
Neuvillette almost choked on his tea, every part of his body malfunctioning and leaving him with only one thing for sure: in his entire existence, this was the first time he was left completely and utterly speechless.
Your warm and comforting eyes turned to him, and you grabbed his cup of tea to put it alongside yours on the coffee table. “Neuvillette,” you spoke his name as if it was a piece of poetry you were yet to learn — eager to do so, “Talk to me.”
And then— your hands, so small and fragile if compared to his, touched him. Your fingers traced his, and you embraced his hand between yours. He could feel the warmth of your skin contrasting against his cold one, pulling him closer, closer, closer.
“When did you figure it out?” was the first thing he said, scared it may be recent. If so, there still is time for you to run, for you to escape. To turn your back and never see him again. It’s probably the best for you, he knows, but this little selfish part in him can’t stand the thought of seeing you gone.
“A month ago or so, it doesn't matter,” you’re quick to cut the subject. “I didn't mention it because I knew you didn't want me to. I’m just worried, that's all.”
Worried.
She is worried.
The realization clicks in Neuvillette’s mind, for the first time in so long acknowledging that maybe, just maybe, he was too, deserving of someone’s concern and care.
“You are saying it does not matter,” he repeats as if to confirm what he just heard.
I pushed you because I cared about you. I pushed you because you made me feel good and comfortable. I pushed you because I thought my true self would frighten you.
Yet, you’re here. And you’re telling me it doesn’t matter.
“It doesn’t. Never did,” you frown. “I just wanna know, no— I need to know why it is raining, Neuvillette. Why would you weep? I’m here with you, talk to me.”
Without giving it a second thought, Neuvillette’s right hand finds your lower back and in a split second you're pressed against his chest, the tightest hug you have ever been given. He’s much taller than you, and you can feel perfectly as he inhales your scent and hugs you tightly.
“Neuv—”
“I thought I had to restrain myself from you. I thought I was no good,” he finally speaks his mind, distancing himself enough for you to see his face; the weeping Dragon. Oh, the melancholy in his eyes.
The eyes of someone who almost lost something precious.
“Neuvillette,” you whispered. “There’s nothing better for me than you.”
And it was true; so you pulled on his hair just enough to have him connecting your lips, a sigh of relief escaping him as if there was nothing in this world he had anticipated more.
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Brunch Date || Tom Blyth x actress!reader
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Summary: Paparazzi capture a cute little brunch date that you and Tom take your daughter Elsie, on.
Warnings: absolutely none cause this is just pure fluff 🥰
Wc: 762
Dad!Tom Blyth x reader au masterlist
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divider by @pommecita
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Hand-in-hand, you, Tom and Elsie walk through the streets of Brooklyn. You were on the look out for a place to eat brunch since this morning it took awhile for Elsie to wake up and get ready. You didn’t bother bringing a pram since there were lots of nearby cafes to your home.
It had been a whole month since you and Tom revealed that you were parents and a whole month since the promo tour of tbosas finished. Not many pictures of Elsie were out still, not that you purposely intended that. It just coincidentally happened.
But it felt great being out in the open comfortably with your family. Elsie had her arms up, both hands gripping Tom’s and your hands as you both lightly swing her. Childish giggles escape her mouth as you and Tom smile.
“Ooh, what about that place?” Tom points over to a little cafe on the corner of the street. It wasn’t very busy inside and you had already since great comments about it while you were looking at the cafes around this morning on your phone.
You sat in a three seater table that overlooked the street of Brooklyn, Elsie in the middle. “Would you like water?” Tom asks as he gets the jug of water. “Yes please,” You smile, tucking a loose strand of Elsie’s hair behind her ear as she nods. Her hair up in two pigtails, just how she liked them.
Tom fills her glass before carefully holding it for Elsie as she drinks it. You look through the menu, your eyes scanning the contents of it as you discuss with Tom the options. Wanting more attention on her, Elsie crawls onto her dad’s lap as Tom lets her, her little arms wrapping around his neck, their cheeks side by side as you laugh.
You quickly snap a photo of the two. “Do you want pancakes baby?” You ask, looking at Elsie, “Yes please,” She voices out as Tom cracks a smile. “Good manners darling,” He praises her, kissing her cheek before he passes Elsie to you, getting up to order.
Tom comes back a few minutes later. You decide to sit in Elsie’s spot beside Tom as she sits on your lap, her eyes on the road before her and the people walking pass. “Do you want to go to somewhere after this?” Tom asks you as he takes a sip of his coffee.
You spoon feed the froth of the babycino into Elsie’s mouth as you hum. “Actually yes, I saw this really cute pinafore for Elsie when I was walking by the shops a couple days ago,” At the mention of her name, Elsie turns her head to look at her parents.
You and Tom giggle as he lightly pinches her chubby cheek as Elsie smiles. “You’re so cute darling,” You kiss her forehead just as the food arrives. You thank the waitress and you move to sit back at your seat, Elsie back on hers.
Tom takes Elsie’s plate as she waits patiently, he was cutting it up into small bits so that she could eat it without hassle. “There you go sweetheart,” Tom smiles at her daughter as she digs in.
The three of you ate your dinner with Elsie taking a little bit longer. You watched your daughter as she chews her food slowly, her curious blue eyes wandering around the place. You had spotted a few paparazzi’s taking photographs a few times but you didn’t mind since they were on the other side of the street, far away.
A few people would stare as they walked by but they were all super respectful and didn't come up to ask for photos while you were eating. After Elsie finished, the three of you left the cafe and made your way to downtown brooklyn. Elsie was in Tom's arms most of the walk there since she felt clingy.
You stopped at the shop you mentioned to Tom and did a little shopping for Elsie. Hand in hand, you and your daughter walked around the shop, picking out things that she liked.
Tom was trailing behind, his eyes looking around the cute little shop that had the cutest pieces of clothing and thought how adorable they would look on her daughter.
All the clothes that you and Elsie picked out ended up in Tom's arms as he happily held them all. You helped Elsie try on all the clothes and did a little fashion show for Tom. It was honestly so adorable and Tom found it absolutely entertaining.
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marvelouslizzie · 11 months
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You're My Desire - Co-written with @notafunkiller
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Summary: Your best friend drags you out on a double date. You were supposed to be Steve Rogers' date, but plans change pretty quickly and you end up in Bucky Barnes' arms.
Pairing: 40s Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Warnings: 18+ NSFW MINORS DNI, first date, public sex, ripped clothing, teasing, rough sex, dirty talk, praise, pet names, no mention of y/n
Word Count: 5.5K
A/N: We really don't have an excuse for this one. We just wanted 40s Bucky to have a good time, you know? This is basically smut with little bit of plot.
Please give my lovely co-writer @notafunkiller a follow. She's also a Bucky Barnes writer and her stories are amazing.
All work is ours, please do not repost or translate without our permission.
Every like, comment, and reblog is highly appreciated. Don’t hesitate to message us. Unless it's hate. That's never welcome.
Read more tag starts after the first paragraph of the story.
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Even though you really didn’t want to, you find yourself on a double date with your best friend. She literally begged you to come because she promised she would bring someone for her date’s best friend and apparently she really doesn’t wanna disappoint the handsome soldier.
You're shocked, though, when you arrive at the fair and see Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes in the flesh waiting for you two at the gate.
You were pretty sure she brought you here for Bucky Barnes but it turns out your date is actually Steve Rogers, aka Captain America himself.
You don't know what to do at first, awkwardly watching your friend hugging Bucky as if they knew each other for ages. Even though they met just a day ago. Steve extends his hand politely, which you immediately shake.
It doesn’t take long for you to go inside the fun fair together while chatting casually. Your friend, Cassie, starts asking questions about the war. She loves front-line stories, but Bucky doesn’t seem like he enjoys telling them.
Steve, on the other hand, is very excited to do it, answering all of Cassie's questions as you quietly watch them. You wonder why you said yes to this date. You've never been into soldiers and even less into war discussions. But you love your friend very much even when she ignores you.
You find yourself looking at Bucky while Cassie and Steve start to chat and exchange stories. He kinda seems amused by this development. You shrug looking in his direction, waiting for him to say something. After all, you are both already bored and your friends don't even seem to care or notice you anymore in the first place.
Bucky just smiles and then tries to change the subject. You think he actually handles that topic change pretty smoothly and it sticks for a while until Cassie gets bored of talking about books.
You remark Bucky's sad face, but you don't say anything. Instead, you subtly start to walk slower, hoping he'll do the same. As Cassie keeps talking to Steve, Bucky notices you are getting behind and just slows down a little.
"You're okay? Are your legs hurting?" Bucky asks concerned while looking at her shoes.
“No, no, I’m fine. Just got tired of the war stories, that’s all.” You keep walking slowly.
"Me, too." He sighs. "It's a never-ending subject at this point."
“Well, where there's life there's hope.” You quote the Hobbit instinctively. You hold on to the hope, one day you won’t have to talk about this war.
Bucky gasps, looking at you in a way you never experienced before. "What did you say?"
“I just said where there's life there's hope.” You repeat, surprised by the way he probably recognized the quote. People usually have no idea what you are referring to. Not him though.
"You're a fan? Oh god!"
That starts your actual conversation with Bucky Barnes. It turns out he’s a big bookworm himself. He reads as much as he can, always buying more books that he manages to read.
You didn't even realize how close you are until your shoulders slightly brush. You blush when he smiles, clearly not minding. Still, you feel very conscious about your closeness and quickly look toward your friend, feeling guilty that you are enjoying the company of her date, but she doesn’t seem to care one bit. On the contrary, she’s actually holding Steve Rogers’ arm while talking and laughing.
"You're very beautiful." You hear Bucky murmur shily.
His compliment catches you off guard. You were about to apologize on behalf of Cassie. Yet you find yourself blushing.
"And you love reading. I am a lucky man. I get to talk to you."
“I could say the same thing myself, Sergeant. I much rather talk about books instead of the war.”
"Then you got the right company." Bucky smiles and looks around. "Should we get some ice cream?"
“That would be amazing.” And that’s how you end up separated from Cassie and Steve. Bucky informs them about their plan and then leaves without waiting for them.
You spend the next hour talking and walking around the entire fair. James even won a teddy bear for you. Once in a while both of you act like you wanna find Steve and Cassie, but you definitely don’t care.
"I don't remember the last time I felt so comfortable and good with someone."
“I’m glad I’m not boring the shit out of you.” You know it’s not ladylike to speak this way, but you feel comfortable around him. It’s crazy when you consider you just met him maybe two hours ago.
Bucky smiles. "I can say the same. Steve says I'm quite boring."
“He’s quite boring himself.”
"Is he?" He snorts.
“Yeah. Who knew Captain America would be into war stories?”
"Doesn't the name say it?" He continues in the same joking tone.
“The name suggests he’s heroic and boring but he’s more boring and less heroic than expected. Stealing his best friend's date doesn’t scream honorable to me.”
Bucky is shocked to see her indirectly standing up for him. "Maybe I stole his date, though."
“His date was uninterested from the start and just being nice to her best friend.”
"Is she still uninterested?"
“In him? Yes.” You act like you don’t understand what he is actually asking.
"Well, the feelings are mutual. About the date and now…"
“You were uninterested in Cassie?” You say it in a way that shows you don’t believe him.
"Wasn't it obvious?"
“Nope.” It definitely wasn’t when they hugged each other the moment they arrived.
"I was trying to be polite. She insisted on this… meeting because I helped her out. I was relieved I could bring Steve."
“She sounded very interested in you until Captain Rogers started with war stories.”
"She was staring at his… back ever since we arrived."
You burst out laughing and he joins you right after. It sets the tone for the rest of the night and makes you notice you both don’t give a shit.
*
"I want to show you something," you say after a few seconds and quickly drag him after you until you reach a darker alley close to the last attraction. You drop the teddy bear carefully at your feet. "Hi."
“Hi.” He still seems a bit confused, but it’s so cute. He looks at the teddy bear and then his eyes turn back to your face. You can’t help but smile.
"You're so cute. Has anyone told you that?" You smile in return.
He acts like thinking for a second. “No, not really. Just cute?” He fishes for more.
"And smart." You touch his chest shily. "And kind."
“Hmm, those are not what people notice first.” He moves a little bit closer. “You have something…” He doesn’t finish his sentence, instead, his thumb brushes the corner of your lips. You wait for him to wipe off whatever you had on your face before opening your mouth and letting your tongue touch his finger shamelessly.
You watch Bucky’s eyes widen out of surprise. He didn't expect that at all. You grab his hand, bringing his finger inside your mouth, and notice how his breathing quickens. Yet he doesn’t stop you.
You let your tongue play for a few seconds until you let his finger go with a small bite. He lets out the lowest moan but not only do you hear it, but you also love it.
"Wow, I…" He doesn't know what to say, all red and excited.
“You what? Do you feel uncomfortable? Excited? I mean, I can stop if you want.”
In response, brave and happy, Bucky kisses you. His tongue is already on your bottom lip asking for permission, which you grant by opening your mouth without realizing it.
The kiss isn’t shy like you expected, and he definitely knows how to kiss. The way his lips and tongue move makes you want more, right then and there.
Your hands go to his neck as you let yourself enjoy the kiss even more. You keep kissing until you feel breathless. When Bucky breaks it, he doesn’t move away. His forehead touches yours as you try to catch your breath.
"This was…"
“I wanna do something if that’s okay…” You say while suddenly getting on your knees. You are wearing your favorite nylon stockings and you're sure they are gonna get ripped, but you don't care.
Bucky thinks he's daydreaming because how can this happen? How?
"What? What are you doing?"
“I think you know what I am doing, Sergeant. Just tell me to stop if you don’t want it, okay?” Your hands move to his belt but you wait for a reaction first.
"Stop. That's not… you don't have to do this. We are having a great time anyway."
“I know I don’t have to, but I want to. Is that okay for you?”
He can only nod, totally shocked and excited at the same time.
You unbuckle him slowly. Even though you are in a public place, you're in no hurry. You unzip him while looking into his eyes. When you finally take him out of his pants, he seems speechless. He’s already hard, but as soon as you start to move your hand, he gets rock hard after maybe four pumps.
"Jesus, you're so pretty. You look like a doll on your knees."
You smile proudly. “Tell me what I look like when I do this,” you say before taking him inside your mouth.
He closes his eyes, groaning. Your mouth is so wet and warm. You take it slow at first. Your mouth moves gently while you swirl your tongue around the head.
"Please." You hear him whisper, his left hand resting against the wall behind him.
You move your mouth away from him just to ask “Please what?” Your lipstick is already a little smudged.
"Oh god, keep going. Please, you're such a pretty sight."
“Tell me how I look when you're inside my mouth and I'll continue, promise.” You wink and remind him he still hasn’t fulfilled your request.
"Like a dream. Like a goddess."
“Hmm…” You go back to taking him inside your mouth without making another comment. This time, you move a bit faster than before and start using your hand.
"Your mouth will be the death of me."
That makes you smile but you don’t stop, moving your hand and mouth at the same time, hoping for a good reaction. His hand finds its way to your hair, wrapping it enough to pull a little. That encourages you to go faster, in need for a tighter grip. And you get it: soon, he wraps more of your hair around his whole fist, moaning your name.
“I think I'm gonna…” He sounds so breathy. “You should pull away.”
You look at him, acknowledging his warning, but showing him you are ignoring it. You keep moving fast, making sure your tongue flicks around the right spot every time until he spills inside your mouth. It’s a lot more than you are used to, but you still keep going until he completely empties himself. You take your mouth off, looking into his eyes before swallowing.
"No." He covers his eyes while groaning. "You can't do this to me, doll. Jesus…"
“Do what?” You innocently ask.
He doesn't answer you, taking you by the back of the neck and kissing you sloppily. You don’t get a chance to warn him about the taste and he doesn’t seem to care one bit. He groans into your mouth when he feels your hands on his ass and breaks the kiss just to suck on your neck.
Then you feel his hands between your bodies, trying to pull up his pants again.
You break the kiss to ask: “What are you doing?”
"I'm putting on my pants," he sounds like a kid. "And I wanna get on my knees for you, too."
“Maybe I want something else that doesn’t require you to put your pants on.”
He nods, without understanding what you mean. "Alright. I'll just-" He drops his right hand until it reaches her skirt. "Is it okay?" You nod with a smile. Even though it’s not what you meant, it’s fine.
His fingers immediately go to your underwear and push it aside.
"Fuck me. Look at that." You are really wet and his curses don't help either. "Soaked. Is that for me, doll?"
“No, it’s for Captain Rogers, who bored the shit out of me.” You joke.
You feel his fingers stopping on your slit as he lifts his head. "What did you say?"
“I said it’s for Captain Rogers, who bored the shit out of me. You know that gets the girls wet.” You hope he won’t be offended by this. It’s just a silly joke.
In response, Bucky pushes a finger inside you quickly, his lips curling into a smirk. "Should I start talking about war, too? Bet that would get you even wetter."
You let out a deep breath, relieved. Thank God he isn’t offended. “That would get me dry as a desert, Sergeant Barnes.”
"Should I dye my hair then?" He snorts, moving his finger faster.
“Maybe you should get a shield. It would definitely look better on you.”
"A shield, huh?" Bucky adds another finger, trying to scissor them inside you a couple of times. "Is it too much?"
“Nope,” you say after a moan. “It’s not enough.”
"Fuck, you…" he closes his eyes. "You want another?"
“I want something else.” You smile, hoping him to understand this time.
"Yeah? Like what?"
You grab his cock and gently rub it without saying a word. You are not surprised he’s hard because his erection has been pressed on your leg for a while.
"Fuck. You want my cock, baby?"
“Yeah. Why do you think I didn’t let you pull your pants back up?”
"I don't-" He moans. "I didn't think."
“Come on. You are making me wait while I’m soaking your fingers.”
"Wanna make you…" Bucky interrupts himself by adding a third finger, his other hand going to your clit. "Happy."
“Fuck.” You throw your head back, that felt so good.
"You like this?" He rubs a little more, paying attention to your body. His fingers inside you keep the same pace, though. He isn't slowing down now even if it's the end of the world.
“Yeah, that.” You breathe out. You already feel your legs shaking and you're afraid your knees might give out, but it feels so good, you can’t seem to focus on the concerns.
"Hold on to me."
You put your hands on his shoulders and it helps you relax a bit more. After that, your orgasm comes crashing in like a big wave that leaves you breathless. He doesn't stop moving his fingers until you finish coming, then he slowly pulls them out, making sure to lick them before kissing you.
“You are such a dirty soldier, Sergeant Barnes,” you say with a smile.
"What is dirty about this?" He shrugs. "I'm a good soldier, of course."
“Doing this in a dark alley with me and licking your fingers clean like that. Very good soldier, indeed.”
"Ihm." He buries his head right onto your shoulder and breathes in. "Thank you."
“For what?” You find yourself kissing his hair while asking the question.
"For this evening and this. Thank you for trusting me."
“You are something else, Bucky,” you say while caressing his hair.
"Hmm?"
You kiss his hair and his ear, then move your lips to his neck. “You can thank me later. We are not done yet.”
"Changed your mind?" He smiles. "Want me on my knees after all?
“Maybe later.” You wink. “Now don’t act like you don’t know what I want because I know you want it, too.”
He freezes. "Wait, you're serious?"
“Of course I am serious. Just don’t finish inside, okay?”
He looks at you again all serious. "Are you sure? We don't have to, I can use my tongue."
“Don’t worry, it’s not my first time and yeah, I’m sure unless you don’t want to.”
Bucky looks at you with puppy eyes. "Uhm, it's my first time."
“Oh god.” Your eyes widen. “I… didn’t consider… that possibility. I’m sorry.”
Bucky starts laughing at your worried expression and kisses your cheek. "My first time with a bookworm doll."
You punch his shoulder. “You worried me!”
That makes him laugh even harder, and you can't help but smile. Because he's extra beautiful like this.
"Why? Do you have something against innocent boys, ma'am? Shame!"
“No, nothing against it. Absolutely would love to teach and corrupt but wouldn’t want that to be your first time.”
"You don't want to take advantage of me, huh? Such a good girl." He surprises you by suddenly lifting you and helping you wrap your legs around his torso.
“Would you like me to take advantage of you?” You kiss his jaw and cheeks.
"Fuck, yes. Yes."
“Then you have my permission to take advantage of me, too.”
He doesn't ask you again if you're sure. Instead, he lifts his right hand to your blouse and starts unbuttoning it as fast as he can. He's so impatient he even manages to rip a button. You just watch him work and smile, hoping the gentleman side of Bucky finally stops holding him back.
He groans at the sight of your hard nipples and quickly leans in to take one in his mouth.
“Oh fuck,” you whimper while he uses his tongue to play with your nipple. It feels so good you don't even notice when his hand drops under your skirt. Until you hear the ripping sound.
“What the fuck?” You can’t believe he's just ripped your nylon stockings. They are so hard to find and so expensive!
"Whha?" He doesn't even take his mouth off your nipple as he speaks.
“Do you know how expensive those stockings are?” Your surprise is so clear in your voice. “You owe me a pair of nylon stockings, Sargeant.”
"They were in the way, baby."
“Getting impatient?” You mock a little.
He pushes his hips a little more. "Can't you feel?"
“You still owe me a pair.”
"What about these?" His hands are now on her panties. "How many do I need to buy you so I can rip these off?"
“Just one pair, but if you wanna rip that one, too, this cycle might never end.”
He sighs, contemplating, but he finally decides not to, only pushing your underwear aside. "How do you want it?"
“What do you mean?”
Bucky takes another step until your back barely brushes against the wall. "How do you like this? The sex."
“Don’t try to act all kind and push aside what you actually want to do. That’s how I want it.”
"Do you uhm… like it fast or slow? The pace I mean." He's slowly pushing inside you while he asks, trying to be as gentle as possible.
“That’s exactly what I meant. Do it however you want and we will see how I like it. Don’t be too gentle like this.”
"Talk to me, okay?" He's halfway inside you now, staying still for a few seconds as he leaves small kisses on your neck.
“Oh, I will, don’t worry, handsome. No one can stop me from complaining if I don’t like something.”
"Good girl." He tries different types of thrusts and angles at first, wanting to see what you respond to the most.
“Fuck. Why do you keep saying that?” She moves her hips to make him thrust faster.
"Because you're my good girl. Dirty too." He moans when he feels you. "God, you want it faster, baby?"
“Yes, yes, I do. Please. Move faster.”
And he does, his grip on your ass tightening as he starts thrusting just the way you want. "Fuck, you're soaked. You feel so good around me."
“You feel good, too.” You moan in between words. “And you are strong. Really strong,” you remark because he doesn’t look tired while holding you.
But he doesn't seem to acknowledge that. "I'm so fucking lucky, Jesus." He groans when he feels your lips sucking on his collarbone.
“You didn’t think your double date would end this way, huh?”
"Deep inside you? Not a chance." He smiles, speeding up.
“Maybe deep inside someone else.” You tease on purpose.
Bucky immediately stops thrusting. "What?"
“I was just joking about how we were meant to be on a date with other people.” You hate that you can’t shut your mouth sometimes.
"Oh," he nods, restarting to move. "Well, I can assure you, he wouldn't have done this tonight." He jokes back.
“Fuck me against the wall like this?”
"Fuck you at all. But especially like this. And the language?" He laughs. "Never."
“Oh, so honorable of him.” You keep joking. “Poor Cassie.”
His right-hand flies behind your head to protect it as his thrusts become way too quick. "Fuck. You feel like heaven, I swear."
“God, how do you do that?” You are surprised that he can carry you with one hand. “Are you sure you aren’t a super soldier yourself?”
Bucky shakes his head amused. "That will go straight to my ego."
“You're carrying me with one hand while protecting my head with the other, and you keep fucking me at the same time. I think it should go straight to your ego.”
He groans. "Lower one of your hands now."
“Lower it where exactly?” You don’t understand what he wants.
His hand moves from the back of her head for a few seconds just to bring her fingers to her clitoris. "Right here. Can you rub this for me?"
“Ohh.” You finally understand what he’s trying to do, so you listen and start rubbing yourself while his hand goes back to your head.
"Good, good girl. Look at you." He doesn't even realize how deep his thrusts are because his focus is on your fingers.
“Oh god… It feels so good.” You have never done something like this before. No public sex, no touching yourself during sex, no good girl whispers next to your ear. They all make you feel dizzy.
"Yeah? Just good?" His mouth finds your breasts this time, and you just know he's leaving a few marks there by the way he sucks on your skin.
“You wanna hear how good it makes me feel?”
"Ihmm."
“Oh, you are even dirtier than you are showing, aren’t you, Sergeant Barnes?”
He looks up immediately. "Say that again." He demands.
“Sergeant Barnes?”
"Fuck, you need to rub faster."
“You need to fuck me harder.” You say while listening to his order.
"Harder?" He repeats, shocked, not expecting that in the slightest. But he does as you demand in a heartbeat, biting his tongue because it feels so good.
You have a hard time holding back your reaction because it feels just perfect. You can feel your orgasm approaching.
“Shit, you need to cover my mouth,” you say as quickly as possible.
"Just use me. Bite my shoulder," he suggests quickly, keeping the pace exactly the same.
You wanna say no, because you don’t wanna hurt him but there’s no other choice left. You sink your teeth in somewhere between his neck and shoulder and try to muffle yourself. The orgasm hits you so hard that you are afraid someone is gonna hear you even like this.
"Fuck," he groans, the pain feeling amazing as you keep coming, your legs wrapping even more tightly around his ass.
“Please, don’t stop,” you manage to say and go back to biting him, very aware of the hickey you are giving him, but that doesn’t stop you because you don’t want to get caught like this.
"Can't stop." At this point you wonder how no one noticed you by now. The sound of your skin touching and your groans are not quite silent. But even if they did, you know you wouldn't stop. How could you?
"Keep rubbing, I want you to find pleasure again."
“Again?” You sound shocked because you've literally just come.
"Again." He tries to lift one of your legs a little more. "Please."
“I don’t think I can, but keep going, okay?” You already came twice in a short amount of time. How much more can you do?
"Well, I think you can." He smiles. "Gonna mark me up, baby?"
“I think I already did.” You can see your teeth marks on his neck. You are sure it will turn into purple really soon.
"I'm your property now?" The hand he has on the back of your head quickly grabs your hair and wraps it around his fist.
“Are you?” You like the sound of that and how he’s pulling your hair.
"I am." He's frantically thrusting in and out of you. "Rub faster."
“Fuck,” you mumble while rubbing yourself. You aren’t sure if it’s gonna do anything, but it feels good. “Can I keep you then? You know, kidnap you and hide you in my apartment so you don’t have to go back to the war. We can just do this every day.”
"Fuck, do it." He smiles. "I dare you."
“Should I tie you up so it looks more realistic?” And suddenly all that rubbing starts to feel different, more pleasurable.
"On your bed? Go ahead."
You laugh at how easily he’s convinced, but your laugh is interrupted by a moan.
"Gonna come for me, dolly?"
“I am not sure.” You struggle to speak. “It feels like it.”
He pulls your hair hard. "Please, please."
“You beg so beautifully, how can I say no?” It’s not like your body is saying no, either.
When you finish coming again, you watch with your eyes semi-closed as James takes himself out without dropping you even a little and comes right on your thighs and ripped stockings. You feel the warmth of his come while you both are trying to catch your breath.
"This was… wow."
“This is a hell of a first date.” You find yourself giggling. Did all that really happen? The soreness between your legs says yes.
Bucky slowly puts you down. "You think?" He snorts.
“Oh yeah, very memorable.” You notice that your stockings are completely ruined so you have no other choice but to take them off.
"Fuck, you're dripping." He doesn't look like he's sorry and he can't say he is, either. He's actually very proud.
“Yeah, I am aware.” You laugh while taking them off and using them like a washcloth to clean yourself up.
"You have no idea how lovely the sight is." He winks at you while zipping up his pants.
You bite your bottom lip while looking at him. “Likewise. You look satisfied, Sargeant. Did something happen while you were gone?” You pull your skirt down.
"I got touched by an angel."
You laugh. “So cheesy. You are lucky that you are a bookworm. A really good-looking one, who is also good at bed even though we didn’t even need one.”
"Next time. Maybe we'll break it." He sounds so confident, but not demanding at all at the same time.
“When are you going back?” You find yourself asking. If he’s promising you a second time, you are gonna take it.
"In one week."
You make a sad face without realizing then take a deep breath to help yourself focus on the positive side. “That’s a lot of sex.”
He immediately lifts your chin and presses a kiss on your forehead. "I was joking. We got two months."
“You are such a liar.” You punch him in his shoulder.
Which only makes him laugh. "You like it hard."
But your attention is on his neck, on the spot you bit so hard. The purple spot looks really old and mostly faded already.
"No comment?" He snorts. "We're gonna have a lot of fun for sure."
“I have a question.” Your eyes are still on that same spot. “Does Steve heal quickly?”
"Why? You plan on kicking his ass?"
“Just answer the question, please.”
"Yeah, he does." Bucky shrugs. "One of the perks of the serum."
“Even the small scars or purple spots?”
"Yes." Bucky doesn't even think about it. "Which is great. Why? You think your friend will want to know?"
You don’t comment about his question, instead, touch the spot you bit down so hard. “You are nearly completely healed. My mark has vanished.”
"What?" He asks, confused.
“I bit down on your neck so hard, it was dark red. Now it’s gone.”
"I don't get purple easily. Never did. I guess you have to suck a little more." He smiles leaning in to kiss you again.
“I fully bit you,” you say before he does.
"I noticed." He giggled.
Since he doesn’t take it that seriously you let it go. “Fine. I will prove it to you later.”
"Prove what?" He gives you another kiss.
“That you heal quickly.” You try to fix yourself while you kiss him back.
"Oh, I feel healed every time I look at you."
“You are so cheesy.” Yet you can’t help but laugh. “How do I look?”
"Good boy version or?" He pauses dramatically.
“Both.”
"Good boy version first: you look like an angel." He smiles cheekily.
You snort. “I’m asking if I look decent, Bucky.”
"Angel,” he repeats before dropping his hands to your ass and squeezing. "They won't know you've got fucked against the wall if that's what you're afraid of. But you look strangely content and happy."
“That’s because I had a good date.” You scrunch your nose cheekily.
"Me too. The best date ever."
“Should we try to find our best friends?”
"Oh, sure." Bucky leans in to get the teddy bear before handing it to you.
"Ready for more war stories?"
“No, I’m not.” You hug the bear. “I gotta wash this.”
Bucky snorts. "Poor bear. Got traumatized."
“Traumatized and all dirty.” You don’t notice how close you are to Bucky until you feel him next to you. “Should we keep this a secret from our friends?”
"Do you want to?"
“I meant the having sex in a dark alley part. I don’t think my friend needs to know that.” She definitely shouldn’t know all this.
"We should totally keep that part to ourselves." He smiles.
“I could say that you kissed me or something. I don’t know. Is that too forward for the first date?”
"There's no such thing. You can say I kissed you."
“I was genuinely asking.” You smile. “I normally don’t even kiss on the first date.”
Bucky giggles, his hand squeezing your hip. "I am a lucky gal." You smile back at him until you notice a familiar face.
“Oh, is that Steve?” You point to the tall blonde guy.
"Yes, that's him. But where is your friend?"
“Right in front of him. I can see her dress.” It’s sticking on the side.
"Oh, yes. Gonna drive you home after that if that's alright with you." He sounds so casual like he already did that many times, but you notice something else.
“You have a car and you didn’t think of using it until now?”
"Oh." Redness takes over his cheeks. "I got… distracted."
"You are such an idiot." You start to giggle while walking toward your friends.
"Your idiot now. You got stuck with me for at least two months." He laughs.
"Just for two months?" You test his intentions.
"I can't assume you'd want to wait for me, can I?"
"I will tell your best friend to bring you back home in one piece. He's the hero after all. That should be easy, right?"
Bucky looks at her with a soft expression before kissing her hair. "Guess you really got stuck with me."
"Oh shit, Steve saw you kissing my hair." It’s going to be hard to keep this thing between you two.
"Does it bother you?"
“No, no, no.” You quickly try to explain. “It’s just I’m worried that they might think the worst of me. I mean… questioning our closeness.”
"I dare them." She is surprised by how serious and determined he is as he speaks.
“I would kiss you right now if I could.”
"I won't stop you." He giggles like a kid.
“Our friends are,” you whisper and look at your best friend, who is coming toward you. Cassie is holding Steve’s arm proudly.
"Oh, hello," Steve says. "Where have you been?"
"Here and there." Bucky shrugs. "Did you have fun?"
"Yes!" Cass immediately giggles, joining the conversation. "He has the best, best stories. What about-" She cuts herself off when she notices your appearance. "What happened to your stockings?"
“Oh.” You blush a little, thinking about how they got ruined. “I tripped and ruined them. They looked so horrible I had to take them off completely.”
"Yes, they got really dirty," Bucky confirms with the biggest grin Steve has seen in ages.
"Oh, really?" He lifts his eyebrow. "What a shame."
“Yeah. Sergeant Barnes promised me a new pair. What a gentleman he is.”
"A gentleman indeed." Steve shakes his head, well aware of what you two have done.
You bite your lip and give Bucky a look, hoping at least Cassie has no idea. You are sure the three of you can keep a secret. For now…
You may wanna read the next part: Trust In What Tomorrow Brings
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strawbeerossi · 5 months
Text
Sweet Treat
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Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid
Description: Penelope gives you aphrodisiac chocolates as a gag gift. Whenever you and Spencer have a movie night, you both don’t realize what sweets you are delving into.
Content/Warnings: Awkward little banter between friends, mutual pining is mentioned, food/eating, aphrodisiacs, unprotected sex
Word Count: 2.4K
Kinktober Day Twenty Three: Aphrodisiacs
Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3
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“Penelope, what the hell is this?” You asked, a laugh leaving your lips as you looked over the container of what looked to be normal chocolate. “Well! I found it online and apparently it’s some of that chocolate that you eat and you just wanna go crazy on the first person you see.” She giggled.
A girls night meant all sorts of things but whenever Penelope pulled out presents, you knew exactly where this was going. You and the girls had met up at her place about an hour ago. After ordering Chinese takeout and having way too much wine, the night had taken a bit of a turn when it came to discussions. Women talk. Sex was a main topic between you and your small friend group.
“So you are giving them to me?! P, I don’t even have a boyfriend.” You laughed. “Who needs a boyfriend whenever you can have fun with anyone in the world. Just keep them.”
And so you did. It was days after the fact whenever you were inviting Spencer over for a marathon of your favorite show. It was going to be fun, you and your best friend from the office watching your favorite show together. He’d offered to pick up food on the way, which he’d stuck with a good Thai place that you both had eaten at numerous times before whenever you got back from a particularly late case.
Spencer was your best friend on the team, the both of you being closer in age compared to the rest of the crew you worked with. Plus you had similar interests when it came to books, movies, among other things. You’d greeted him with a wide smile the minute the door opened. “Hey!” You grinned while moving to hug him. Despite his disdain for hugs or being touched, he’d slowly began to let you in more. He was happy to hug you or have you hold his hand whenever you needed to pull him somewhere else in a crowded room without losing him.
He enjoyed being by your side. Honestly, he was sure he was in love with you because of how caring you were. You listened to his rambles and even asked him further questions. You even laughed at the jokes that were complicated to understand. You were truly a light shining bright on the team. “I hope you have snacks because I didn’t even stop.” Spencer groaned after returning the hug with one arm as his foot kicked the front door shut. “I do. I have a lot in the kitchen.” You assured.
You'd started the new season of your show together and gotten through dinner within a few episodes before Spencer disappeared into the kitchen as you paused the program on tv. “Don’t take too long! I gotta see how this plays out!” You called while leaning back against the couch, pulling the blanket over your body while letting out a soft hum. Spencer had ended up grabbing some chocolate. Which he didn’t read over the label as he grabbed a tab from the container and looked it over. “That’s cute. It’s got little shapes.” He chuckled to himself, breaking one in half as he was moving to take a bite from the rich milk chocolate. It was to die for, so he had to take the other half to you so you could try before you both tore into the bag together.
“Try this. It’s so rich. I actually love it.” He’d commented. You weren’t paying attention to what the chocolate looked like, bringing it up to your nose and smelling it before you were pulling the piece in your mouth. Which it was delicious, your eyebrows raising. “Wow, that really is good.” You laughed, watching as Spencer was sitting down and passing over snacks to you. “We can eat the chocolate later. You know sweet stuff can either send me flying on the walls or I end up feeling bad to do anything.” Fair enough.
It was an hour later when you were on another episode, your body was feeling hot as you shifted uncomfortably on the couch. You wouldn’t like to think that you were attracted to the program, it was a horror series and you were in the middle of a chase scene. So why else were you squirming?
Just as you were going to excuse yourself to take care of the heat in your belly, you noticed Spencer shifting uncomfortably, a pillow resting over his lap. Then you thought about the chocolate, your eyes widening as you were shooting up from the couch and rushing to the kitchen. Spencer watched you, turning slightly on the couch to watch you curiously through the doorway. That’s when you see the box, a soft groan leaving your lips as you lifted up the sex candy while bringing a hand up to rest against your face. ‘
Just great. You knew you should’ve just put it in your room.
“Spencer.” The sound of your voice had him nearly jumping out of his skin as he quickly faced the tv again. “Yeah?” He asked as his hand clutched the pillow harder. Maybe you’d caught him. Even someone who wasn’t a profiler could tell there was something going on, not to mention the growing tension between the both of you.
Mutual pining was normal and you both weren’t exempt from that. Spencer was an awkward rambler but you found it endearing. Just as he found you as equally as endearing even if you were quiet a good majority of the time and relished in his ramblings about whatever was brought up. You both enjoyed each other's presence, the two of you spending time together more often than not.
Those unsaid mutual feelings made this whole situation worse.
You approached the couch again as you slowly sat down beside Spencer again, body leaning back against the couch as you could feel yourself hot, face flushed as you couldn’t sit still to save your life. Spencer had now taken notice, clearing his throat. “I-I uh.. I may need to leave soon. M-mom’s facility called.” A lie but it would be a smooth getaway.
“Oh, yeah. Uh, it might be for the best! I forgot that I have to..” Your eyes glanced around the room. “Reorganize my bookshelf!” Less subtle. “R-right. Uh, This seems weird but can you close your eyes for a minute? I just..” His eyes were glued on the pillow, making you bring your eyes down as well. “O-oh.”
“It’s not because of the show!” He squeaked, face bright red as he was looking back at the screen. “I don’t- I don’t know why but I was looking at you and it just.. I don’t know!” He whined. His awkwardness made it hard for him to admit why there was a pillow on his lap outright, however you had clocked the reasons why.
“You know the chocolate..? Uh, Penelope gave me them the other day as a joke and they are.. They are essentially just sex chocolate.” Your face was hot, chest rising and falling as you were feeling the gush of slick in your panties from the heightened arousal. “Wait. Aphrodisiacs?!” Spencer was looking at you with wide eyes, mouth agape in shock. Well, at least he didn’t feel as bad from getting hard after giving you a few glances. There was a reason behind it.
The both of you stared at one another, faces hot and eyes blown out with lust. “So uh.. How long does this last?” Spencer finally asked, his brain being too clouded over with lust as he stared in your direction. “I-I wouldn’t know.. I never used them.” Your nose crinkled as the both of you couldn’t seem to tear your eyes away from one another. “I, uh, I lied about my reason to leave.” He stated the obvious while you couldn’t help but let a little laugh escape your lips. “I know..” You admitted, slowly pushing yourself to stand. “I um.. I don’t actually have to reorganize my bookshelf either..” You laughed awkwardly while heading over to stand in front of your best friend, hand moving to gently rest over the pillow. “I don’t want you to go.. Not yet. Can you, um, help me out a little bit? I trust you and you are here.” You rambled on as you put your hands together slowly. Spencer was looking at you with wide eyes as he nodded slowly.
“I’ll help.” You were both a bit awkward at first, the male letting you move the pillow before you were straddling his waist, the show in the background continuing to run as your best friend was blushing nervously. “I gotta admit that I’ve only done this one time before..” He spoke while you offered a smile. “It’s alright.” You whispered as you let your head dip down to connect your lips with his. Your bodies were buzzing with electricity as you were deepening the kiss, your hands tangling in his hair while his hands were gripping your hips.
You never thought you’d be in this position, tongue in your closest friend’s mouth while your hips were grinding down against his. You felt a fire inside of you, your body desperate to be bare and touched. As you pulled out of the kiss much to Spencer’s dismay, you were tugging your shirt over your head before tossing it somewhere else in the room. The sight of your breasts in a white bra had Spencer’s Adams apple bobbing as his eyes were trained on the lace that accentuated your skin. “It’s pretty right? One of my favorites.” You comment while watching his eyes stare at your tits with a new sense of hunger in his eyes.
You took it as a great sign as your hand was reaching behind you, unclasping the top before letting it fall somewhere with your shirt. His hands were quickly coming up to cup your breasts before he was just diving right in, wet kisses being pressed against your skin before his lips were wrapping around your nipple, tongue flicking over the nub as your fingers tangled in his hair. “Fuck.” You cursed while his attention was focused on your chest.
Your body was perfect.
As he had gotten enough though, he was pulling back to examine your chest that was covered in a few hickies and your hardened nipples. “You look so pretty.” It wasn’t akin to being called a whore or a slut but you honestly liked it. The way he complimented your body had your cheeks heating up as you were lifting your hips when he had gained enough confidence to work on your pants. He’d tugged down your pants and panties before working on his own pants.
“Eager?” You commented, a little giggle leaving your lips as Spencer looked at you as if you’d grown another head. “Have you seen yourself?! Of course I’m eager!” He defended himself, causing the both of you to share a laugh. “I hate to rush this but-” He was cut off by a groan as your hand reached between you both to give his leaking cock a few tugs. “I know, me too. You can make up for the lack of foreplay later.” You wiggled your eyebrows as you pressed your lips against his once more, your leaking hole sinking down onto his cock.
The both of you had let out moans muffled in one another’s mouths as your hips rocked slowly, getting adjusted to the man’s thick cock. It was always the awkward nerds who had the best surprises.
Your head was falling on his shoulder as he held your hips with a bruising grip. He wasn’t one to have sex often, not being lucky like Derek in the department of women effortlessly throwing themselves at him. He knew that this scenario was one he never imagined happening, your velvety walls clenching tightly around this bare cock while you essentially used him as a human dildo to get yourself off.
He wasn’t complaining in the slightest, watching your face contort in ecstasy as his hips were thrusting upwards to slam into your leaking cunt, a groan falling from his lips as his head tilted back against the sofa. You were whining and moaning with each thrust that he matched with your movements, eventually pushing the one place you needed most. The impact had your hands clutching tightly to his shoulders as you let your mouth fall open with a soft cry.
“Oh my god, fuck, I’m gonna cum.” Your words were slurred, the effects of the aphrodisiacs heightening all of your arousal so you felt like you were going to burst at the seams. Your body was hot, hips surely bruised by Spencer’s rough grip as he slammed into you as well as your legs shaking from their position.
When you did hit your peak, you were tightly grabbing Spencer’s shoulders as your hips slammed down into his lap, ass hitting his thighs at an unsteady rhythm. Spencer however, was quickly flipping you both over, your body sprawled out against your living room couch as he was rolling on top of you.
Taking the opportunity, he wasn’t skipping a beat as his hips slammed into yours, your sensitive cunt contracting around his cock as he was bringing himself to climax. As your moans and whines from overstimulation echoed in the apartment, his own whines of desperation were falling from his lips.
His cock twitched inside of your used pussy, quickly making the effort to pull out of you as he jerked at his leaking cock, a low huff leaving his lips as ropes of cum were now pooling in your stomach, glazing your bare skin as he let out a weak whine. As you lay there covered in his spent, your chest was rising and falling at a rapid pace as you made the effort to catch your breath.
“I think that chocolate needs to be thrown away to avoid incidents like this again,” his voice pulled you out of your post sex haze as you laughed a little. “Are you kidding? I think we need to do this every time we watch our show together.” You teased, making Spencer shake his head with a smile.
“At least hide it for when you have anyone else over. I don’t think I’ll survive if this mix up happens with someone else.”
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mydearzero · 7 months
Text
Lisztomania | Spencer Reid x Reader
MASTERLIST
18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Summary: Years after joining the BAU, you thought you'd gotten past your little celebrity-like infatuation with Spencer, the whole reason you applied for the BAU. A case involving the murder of several groupies of an up-and-coming indie rock band is bound to prove you wrong.
Contents: NO Y/N, fem!Reader, BAU!reader, co-workers, friends to lovers, smut, unprotected sex, penetrative sex (p in v), creampie. If I missed any warnings please tell me!
4.7K words
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It wasn't an everyday occurrence that Spencer would be the one to deliver the profile to the public. He looked a lot more stoic on TV than in real life. You never failed to be amazed by how he could still surprise you over the years. He looked confident, and it was a good look on him.
"-The man we're looking for is between the ages of 25 and 40. He is of an average build. He's likely socially inept and doesn't mingle well with his peers. Please be on the lookout for anybody who fits this description and contact the FBI through the local Police Department. Thank you." 
"Someone's gawking." Emily's words startled you out of your Spencer-induced trance. You crossed your arms and grumbled. 
"No, I wasn't..." You bit the inside of your cheek as Emily pat your shoulder and scoffed a laugh. 
"Sure, you weren't. I gotta give it to you. TV does Boy Wonder well." Emily said as she watched the head of the local Police Department take over the press conference as Spencer left the screen.
"I guess I'm just amazed at how different he looks while doing press. Compared to how he usually carries himself, I mean." You shrugged. Emily turned to look at you, no longer interested in the TV screen. 
"Guess that's the profiler in all of us. You can't help but compare. But you're right. Reid does have a certain je ne sais quoi about him, I suppose." 
_________
That was several months ago. It wasn't until you saw Spencer in front of a classroom that a familiar, uneasy feeling returned to your stomach. Emily was right. He did 'have a certain je ne sais quoi about him'. You just couldn't put your finger on what it was. 
"-Which is why it's crucial we always discuss the details of the COD with the coroner's office. COD being the Cause of Death, of course." Spencer spoke with an air of juvenile enthusiasm. You were glad he still had that part in him, despite everything that happened previous to his teaching.
He finished the class and was about to walk over to where you were leaning against the wall, waiting for him to finish. But when he was nearly done packing his satchel, a small group of college girls formed around his desk. The soft smile he'd directed at you was quickly cut short.
You stared in amazement at the girls' shameless flirting. Spencer had turned this group of brilliant and educated girls into giddy schoolgirls, all by just being himself. They all wanted a piece of him, and you started to have peace with the fact that you didn't blame them. You were in the same boat. 
_________
The final straw was during a case concerning a string of murders involving groupies of an up-and-coming indie rock band. 
"I mean, I get the urge to throw your panties on stage at an attractive man. I do. Even I would've taken the bait with Nick Carter, given the chance. But to follow a random stranger down a dark alley in the hopes of meeting your idol? That seems a bit far-fetched. Girls this age are smarter than that, especially with the media frenzy." JJ flipped through the details described in the case file. 
"There's been several cases of fangirls going to great lengths to get what they want from their idol. The earliest case would probably be with Hungarian composer Franz Liszt in 1841. 
The term 'Lisztomania' came about in 1844, describing an intense level of hysteria demonstrated by fans, a bit like the treatment of celebrity musicians today – but in a time not known for such musical excitement. 
A more recent example would be Beatlemania, or even the so-called 'Bieber Fever' or 'One Direction Infection'. There have been several studies that explain this behaviour, but I won't get into that." Spencer trailed off. 
"I know someone else who had a case of that. But I think that was just called a hard-on." JJ joked, jabbing at Spencer's short-lived fling with Lila Archer over ten years ago. Spencer grumbled something along the lines of "Can we please let that go," but it fell on deaf ears. 
"It's still strange they would follow someone down the alley unless the person they're following has been established in the girls' minds as someone with authority, like a crew member connected to the band," Rossi mentioned. 
"Garcia, look into all the current members of the band's crew along with the people working at the venues. We're going to need you at the scene, too. There's a lot of social media involved. Thank you. Wheels up in 30." Hotch stood up, signalling the meeting was finished.
You walked with Emily back to the bullpen, Spencer following close behind. 
"You know, I get it. There's something attractive about a man with a platform, even if you put him on that pedestal yourself, to begin with." Emily said as you leaned against her desk.
"Yeah, for sure. It doesn't have to be a pop star or actor. A celebrity, even. Could be anybody under the right circumstances." You agreed. You could see the appeal in having an unrelenting devotion to someone like that. 
You put Spencer on a pedestal like that, in a way. You watched as he gathered his things into his go-bag. You knew he was a flawed person, like anybody. Yet, in your eyes, all his problems could be explained or ignored. You didn't notice the curious glance Emily sent your way. 
While on the jet, you contemplated the case. Would you have fallen for the ruse? Maybe if you had been a bit younger? You'd had your own little celebrity obsessions. You wouldn't have ruled it out if free tickets and a meet & greet were in the picture. 
It was a quick but convoluted catch once the profile was made. Thank you, Penelope. The UnSub was most likely one of the band's crew members who used to date the bassist. They'd broken up due to an increasing number of groupies getting in the way of their relationship. Go figure she'd go and murder them. 
The catch happened right in time with the start of the show, the bustling crowd missing all of the mayhem that had gone down backstage due to the support act. How the gigs hadn't been cancelled yet was beyond you. 
"You can stay and watch the show from the VIP area if you want. It's the least we can do, really. Though, maybe ditch the FBI gear." The lead singer had a charming smile. You could see how the crowd waiting for him could be captivated by his energy. 
After Hotch checked with the hotel and pilot, the team decided to take the band up on their invitation. After a quick shower and change at the hotel, you drove back to the venue in groups. 
You were escorted to a barricaded area near the front of the stage. The energy of the crowd was exhilarating. An electric tension hung in the air as the 30-minute change-over between the support was filled with soft music from a playlist. 
JJ and Rossi came bearing gifts, both carrying several drinks to hand out to the team. You thanked them as you took one, taking a sip of the ice-cold drink. You deserved to relax and enjoy a night like this after the gruelling case. 
You watched unabashedly at Spencer, red overhead lights casting down on his face. You'd like to see how he'd do on the stage, perhaps in an alternate universe, and with a different wardrobe. He was undoubtedly eclectic enough to pull off the whole rock star gig. 
He felt your gaze and made eye contact, working his way past a wildly gesturing Emily as she told a story. He lightly grabbed your upper arm when he reached you. 
"Hey." You saw his mouth move, but his words got lost under the chattering crowd. You smiled and leaned closer. 
"Hi! Fancy seeing you here!" You shouted. Spencer winced as he laughed. You'd obviously overestimated the volume of the crowd. You mouthed a quick apology before taking another drink. 
You nearly choked when Spencer leaned even closer, invading your personal bubble (that was already narrow), to talk directly in your ear. 
"Did you know that typical movement behaviour at large events like these increases the risk of spreading infectious diseases?" You bit your lip as you stopped yourself from laughing. Leave it up to Spencer to break the tension like that. 
"It makes sense, I guess. Lots of people, lots of bodily fluids. Kinda gross, now that I think about it," you replied. 
Just as he was about to speak again, the lights dimmed, and screams filled the stadium. You gave him a small smile, which he returned, afterwards turning to look at the show. He stood behind you for the majority of the show, and while you would've loved to admire him in the gorgeous lighting a little longer, you couldn't have asked for a better person to have rubbed up against you for an hour and a half. 
After the show, Hotch, Rossi, and JJ decided to return to the hotel for some much-needed rest ahead of their early flight the following day. The rest headed out to a bar just around the corner of the venue. You walked quickly, the cold of the outside being a jarring change from the heat at the concert. 
You were a few drinks in when Penelope brought up a subject you'd somehow managed to avoid all these years.
"If I hadn't joined the FBI, I would've liked to be some sort of celebrity," She mentioned, taking another sip through her straw. 
"Considering the type of psychos we encounter on a daily basis, I'd rather be less known, not more." Emily shuddered. You were quick to agree. Although fame was attractive on some level, you wouldn't want to risk situations like those you'd witnessed these last few days in exchange. 
"What made you want to become an agent in the first place?" Penelope turned to you before continuing. "I didn't have much of a choice, to be honest. It was jail or the FBI, and I'm not jail material. I mean, look at me!" She gestured wildly to herself. 
You chuckled and decided to pick an opt-out answer. "I just saw it as the right thing to do, you know? Make the world a better place, even if it's only little by little." You shrugged.  
Spencer squinted as he ran his eyes over your face. "Bullshit." He determined. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at his callout. 
"What's that supposed to mean?" You questioned genuinely. Sure, you hadn't been entirely honest, but it wasn't a lie. 
"You're lying, I can tell. You do that thing with your face. Besides, that's the most basic answer ever. Surely a person with as much integrity as you do would have a better reason than a moral superiority complex." Spencer stated matter-of-factly. You gaped at his accusation. 
"He's right, though. You have no connection to the Bureau. Reid is a wunderkind, Garcia is basically an ex-con, and I'm a child of nepotism. What made you apply? And for the BAU of all places?" Emily wondered out loud. 
You recoiled as you realised there was no getting out of this. If you were going to dance around the subject, Penelope would get too curious, anyways. She'd have your application and its details pulled up in no time. That, along with cross-referencing the BAU with your college, it wouldn't take a mastermind to figure out what happened. 
"I actually followed a lecture on sexual sadism and the Mill Creek Killer back in college that made me wonder if I'd be cut out for it." You admitted, omitting some key details. 
The one secret you'd sworn to take to your grave was that Spencer was the sole reason you were with the FBI in the first place, having followed one of his guest lectures a few years back. 
He hadn't even left the room before you'd turned in your online application to the Academy. 
"Why not mention that in the first place? God, no need to be so secretive about it." Penelope whined. You didn't answer as you tentatively sipped your drink, feeling busted for no reason. 
You glanced up to look at an overly smug and amused Spencer. Blood rushed to your cheeks when you realised you were most definitely caught. 
"You know, when Hotch first introduced us to you, I thought I recognised you from somewhere. But the memory I have of that lecture is actually overshadowed by this kid who was also there, Nathan Harris. He ended up killing some prostitutes. But now that you mention it, you did go to Georgetown, didn't you?" Spencer knew he was right. He just wanted to see how you were going to talk yourself out of this one. 
"Oh, you gave that lecture? I never realised..." It was a pathetic lie, and there was no hiding it. Emily snorted out loud. She'd clocked your little 'thing' for Spencer long ago, you knew that much. 
"Aww, you looked up to Spencer? That's so cute!" Penelope gushed. That sure was one way to put it. You made a face that must've said as much. 
"What, you didn't look up to me? I'm offended. Here I thought I was your favourite professor." Spencer joked. He excused himself as he walked to the bathroom. Great timing, as it gave you time to rid your cheeks of the flush you were sporting. 
"Be honest with me. And don't bother lying because we've all seen the heart eyes you throw at Pretty Boy. Were you genuinely interested in joining because of the subject matter? Or..." Emily encouraged you to answer. 
You sighed as you brought a hand to your face. "Honestly? I wasn't sure if I wanted to be him or be with him. But at least I signed up for the class out of genuine interest! There were plenty of girls there that were there purely for the hour-long eye candy!" You defended yourself. 
"And you applied for the Academy after the lecture? At least it must've been interesting." Penelope wondered out loud. 
"Actually..." You winced. "He'd hardly even been done with his introduction before I'd filled in the online application. But I was very single, okay? And he'd already built up this celebrity status on campus." It felt nice to admit to it after years of harbouring it. 
"Oh! You naughty little fangirl!" Penelope exclaimed. 
"I'm not a fangirl! It's been years!" You groaned. You took it back. It didn't feel nice. You should've kept it to yourself. 
"Who are you a fangirl of?" Spencer asked, putting a new glass in front of Emily and sitting back down by your side. 
"You! She's a total groupie." Penelope betrayed you. You shot her a nasty look, but it went ignored by her drunken, self-satisfied glee. 
"Is that so?" Spencer turned to you with his eyebrows raised. 
"Oh yeah, total Reidiac. You should give her an autograph." Emily winked. Spencer laughed and shook his head at their antics. 
The conversation moved on, but you felt the dynamic between Spencer and you had changed, even when unspoken. When Penelope and Emily were caught up discussing cats, Spencer leaned against your side, whispering in your ear once more. Unlike last time, he didn't break the tension, even when telling another fact. 
"Garcia called you my groupie earlier. Do you know the textbook definition of the term 'groupie'?" His voice was huskier than usual, coated with the alcohol and late hour. You shook your head timidly, urging him to continue. 
"A groupie is typically explained as a young woman who regularly follows a celebrity, especially in the hope of having a sexual relationship with them." His lip brushed against your ear as he whispered the words. A cold chill went down your spine at his insinuation. 
"You're no celebrity, Spence." You answered apprehensively. He didn't move, still leaning into your side, out of sight. You couldn't gauge his expression. 
"Maybe not in the classic sense of the word. But I have a Wikipedia page. Surely, that amounts to some celebrity status." He joked. You closed your eyes, tension slowly disappearing after the vibe of the conversation changed back to casual banter. 
Was he insinuating what you thought he was? 
You got your answer as soon as the four of you headed to the hotel. You bid your goodbyes to Emily and Penelope before turning to put the keycard in the door to your room. You heard a couple of doors close, and just when you turned the handle, there was a hand on your shoulder, pushing you inside and closing the door. You whipped around, only to be faced with Spencer. 
"Spenc-" 
"You deflected earlier." He interrupted. 
"Deflected what?" Your heart was racing. Whether from the shock of his sudden intrusion or the proximity, you weren't sure. 
"The definition of a groupie. And how Garcia is right, you totally are one." 
You gaped at the insinuation. 
"Don't look shocked now! You are totally one of those girls who audit my class." He grinned. 
"You wish! I'll have you know you were scrawny at best when you gave that one lecture I attended." You huffed, crossing your arms. 
"Were scrawny? Past tense?" Spencer egged you on. 
"Shut up. You know you've built up some muscle since then. Hell, maybe you even grew a couple of inches." You rolled your eyes. 
Spencer decided to ignore the comment and put his hand in his pocket, fishing for something. He finally pulled something out, looking way too smug for his own good. "I brought a Sharpie. You know, for your autograph." 
Fine. If he wasn't going to stop this ridiculous teasing, you were going to cross the 'groupie' line. 
"Oh my god! I like, totally want your autograph, Spency!" You started, looking him dead in the eyes as your hands made their way to the hem of your shirt. 
"Will you sign my tits?" You challenged, lifting your top far enough to expose your bra to its fullest extent. 
Spencer obviously hadn't expected that, struggling to come up with a quick-witted response. You shrugged as you took the shirt off. 
"I see. You require a larger surface area. I get it. Big ego, bigger signature." Spencer finally broke when you reached behind your back to unclasp your bra. 
"Hey, hey. Stop. I can sign them like this just fine, sweetheart." You knew he was simply going along with the rockstar act, but the nickname sent blood rushing to your cheeks either way. 
"Okay, hot shot." You smirked, pushing your chest out. He hadn't expected you to actually let him sign your chest. He scrambled to take the cap off. He stepped closer and wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you against him. 
"Stand still. You want it to come out perfect, don't you?" 
You held your breath when he brought the Sharpie up to your breasts. You looked at his face as he appeared laser-focused on giving you the best autograph of your life. Why was it that such a stupid joke felt like the most sensual experience of your life? 
The tip of the Sharpie tickled as it danced across your chest. He finished the signature with a dot on the I in Reid. 
"There, perfection." He whispered, but his eyes were no longer glued to your scantily clad upper body. You searched his face for hesitation but only found his determined gaze settled on your parted lips. 
He made eye contact as if asking permission. You'd barely nodded before his hands cupped your face, and lips were on yours, sucking all the air out of your lungs. His body pressed up against your own, frantically shedding the layers keeping you separated. You kept kissing him while desperately reaching for his belt. 
You hadn't noticed you'd slowly made your way to the bed in the back of the hotel room until Spencer pulled away to remove his tie. You let yourself fall onto the sheets, ridding yourself of your bottoms. They got stuck at your ankles as you forgot your shoes. 
"I got it." Spencer's voice was unrecognisably hoarse. He kicked off his own shoes and made his way over to the bed in only his boxers. He tugged at your shoes after undoing the laces and discarded them somewhere in the room. 
You'd never seen a sight quite like Spencer leaning over you as he rested one knee on the bed. He put his hand beside your face and you met his eyes. His head blocked the dim yellow ceiling light, lighting him perfectly from behind. It was ridiculous how angelic he could look, even in these stereotypically sinful circumstances. 
"Are you sure about this?" Spencer asked. Always considerate. What a gentleman.
"I've been sure ever since that stupid lecture, dork." You joked. Spencer smiled and leaned down, placing a kiss under your ear. His breath was hot on your neck as he left a trail of kisses down your neck, down to his crudely placed signature. 
You leaned on your elbows as Spencer reached behind your back to finally unclasp your bra. You let your back meet with the sheets again as he pulled the straps down your arms. You heard him take a deep breath as he took in the sight before him. 
You pulled him down for another kiss, unsatiable now that you'd gotten a taste. His hands reached for your chest and experimentally pinched a nipple. You inhaled sharply through your nose. The combined sensation of his mouth and large hands on your body, as his hips sought more and more friction, was delectable. 
His hands slowly reached further down, toying with the edge of your underwear. 
"Don't tease." You whined, already too riled up. 
"Patience is a virtue," Spencer murmured against the skin of your jaw, hooking his finger under the elastic band. 
"Patience, my ass, Reid. I need you." It came out more desperate than you intended, but it seemed to do the trick. He yanked the underwear down your legs, followed by his own. 
"Condom?" He asked. You shook your head. 
"Don't care. I'm clean, and God knows you are. Wanna feel you." You answered, wrapping your arms around his neck. 
"What's that supposed to mean?" Spencer laughed, taking his cock in his hand and running it through your folds. 
"Have you met yourself? You won't even shake hands, Doct-oh, oh Jesus Christ." Spencer interrupted your banter by sliding inside in one go. You closed your eyes as you pulled him close, begging him to kiss you. 
He slowly started moving as you regained your ragged breath. The low grunts falling from his lips against yours were magical, but you wanted more. Your fingers made their way up to his hair, tentatively tugging at the roots. Your grip tightened at a particularly harsh thrust, and Spencer's response was everything you were searching for. 
"Holy fuck, oh my God- Uh-" His grunts slowly tuned whinier as you kept your grip on his hair. He brought a hand to your clit, rubbing circles in tandem with his thrusts. 
"Look at me, baby." He moaned in your ear. He leaned back, and your eyes fluttered open, though with difficulty. Your instinct was to squeeze them shut with pleasure. He looked ravenous, pupils blown wide, panting with the physical effort. 
You lazily wrapped your legs around his waist in an attempt to pull him even closer. 
"Shit, Spencer," you moaned as the new angle reached a spot inside you you'd only ever dreamed of. Your eyes squeezed shut again, unable to keep them open. Spencer removed the hand rubbing your clit and moved it to your chin, placing a small kiss on your lips.
"Eyes on me, come on. I know you can do it." He encouraged. Something about his coercive tone let you know there was a side to Spencer you had yet to see. You opened your eyes and were met with the sight of his eyebrows furrowed with effort. 
The noises coming from Spencer sped up along with the desperate pace of his hips. The combination of his whines with yours and the sound of skin on skin was anything but serene. You felt yourself nearing the edge, clawing at his back in an attempt to ground yourself. 
"Spencer! Fuck, oh my god," it was hardly distinguishable what you were saying, mumbles of pleasure stringing together into an unintelligible mess. His cock slid again and again and- you couldn't take it. 
Your hands left his hair in favour of running your nails harshly over his back. Spencer was seemingly a glutton for pain, moaning at the sensation. 
  "I- Shit, I'm gonna cum. D'you want me to pull out?" Spencer's thrust faltered. You knew you had to answer fast. You tightened your grip on him with your legs. 
"Please, Spencer. Please come inside me. Want to feel you cum." You begged. 
"Fuck, okay. Okay. O-" His head dropped down to your shoulder as his unrelenting hips sped up one more time, bringing you both to your high. You felt his cock twitch as your walls tightened around him. 
"Spencer!" You shouted as you came, feeling him spill inside you. 
"So good for me. So gorgeous. Perfect." Spencer mumbled as he peppered you with kisses, hips slowing down as he came down from his high. Your chest heaved, trying to catch your breath.  
Spencer carefully pulled out, making sure not to spill anything and soil the sheets. He stepped off the bed and spread your legs, before leaning back down and licking a drop of cum threatening to spill. 
"Shit, Spencer! Too sensitive!" You pushed his head away. He laughed before heading to the bathroom, returning with a dampened towel. 
The nighttime routine that followed felt domestic. You peed, brushed your teeth, ignored the sight of his signature and hickies on your boobs, and headed to bed. 
"Can I borrow your toothbrush?" Spencer asked from the bedroom. He hadn't asked to stay. But then again, you hadn't asked him to leave. You didn't want him to. 
"You just licked your own cum from my vagina, and you ask if you can borrow my toothbrush? Be my guest, Reid." You scoffed, lying down under the sheets. 
"Hey, people have their preferences, okay? Didn't want to overstep." Spencer said as he returned from the bathroom, lying down beside you. 
Against your better judgement, Spencer stayed. You knew the entire team would be up and around, bright and early. But you didn't care. His arms wrapped around you and pulled you close as you drifted off into a peaceful sleep. 
He left early the following morning. You were sure he hadn't had nearly enough beauty sleep. He could nap on the plane, you shrugged. There were no regrets from either party over the loss of sleep. 
You hadn't thought too much about your outfit before heading down to breakfast. An honest mistake one can make when staying up late and getting up early. You were exhausted, let alone hung over. You realized your mistake when the ever-stoic eyes of Aaron Hotchner immediately snapped down to the tank top you were wearing the second you stepped out of the elevator, the words 'Spencer Reid' still obscenely sprawled across your chest, accompanied by several suspicious bruises. 
Your eyes went wide as you followed his gaze, quickly zipping up your hoodie. How could you possibly have forgotten that part? You met Hotch's eyes. Before you could try to babble yourself out of this one, he held up a hand to stop you. "I don't want to know."
You clenched your lips as you nodded. "Noted, bossman."
The small smile tugging at the corner of his lips didn't escape you, and neither did the exchange of money between him and Rossi not 5 minutes later. 
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toournextadventure · 2 months
Text
when you love it
Summary: When is a monster not a monster? Oh, when you love it - Caitlyn Siehl
Word Count: 6.3k Warnings: swearing, injury mention, suggestive themes, blood mention, hurt no comfort (hopeful ending), extreme guilt Pairing: Wenclair x Vampire!Reader
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“We, the jury, find the defendant not guilty on the charge of murder in the first degree.”
Your fangs caught on your lip as you did your best not to smile. With the slightest turn of your body, you patted your client on the shoulder and congratulated him for getting off on murder. He was guilty as sin. You could practically smell the tainted blood coursing through his veins. It was abysmal; he was a horror to work with. Doubtless he would be murdered before he even left the courthouse.
His money was still just as good as anyone else’s.
The judge continued his usual spiel, the one you personally had heard many times over. Something about understanding the severity of the charges, how one must persevere to become more, to prevent such a situation from occurring again. She was getting much more emotional about the speech, putting more of a motherly spin on it. It was a lovely touch.
It wouldn’t work. But it was lovely.
“Don’t get yourself in too much trouble,” you said once the judge was finished and you could shake your client’s hand.
His smile was sinister. “I’ll be calling on you again.”
You made sure to show your fangs in your own smile. “I’ll be expecting it.”
The man gave you the creeps, more so than most of the clients you represented. Which was precisely why you allowed your shadow to escort him out of the courthouse to the freedom he had unjustly earned. You watched as he left with a smile that betrayed your actual thoughts.
If he called again, your rates would double.
“You did your job masterfully.”
You turned around, watching people continue to mill out of the courtroom. No one was facing you, not even the usual suspects. Even your best friend Detective Faus had already left. There was no one left to talk or discuss the events of the case. A pity.
Maybe it had been another hallucination; they were more frequent this time of year. Sounds of blood spilling, pouring down your throat like the first drink at the bar. The door opening, muffled words, wood splintering. The sounds made themselves known in your mind, drowning out everything else around you.
“Looking for someone in particular?”
No. No, that was no hallucination. You looked down to see a young man no older than 20 - though his spectacular mustache looked a bit old for him - standing beside you. It was no wonder you hadn’t noticed him, he was rather short. With a stunning crop of slicked back raven black hair, he reminded you of someone. Someone you did your best to forget.
“Thank you, mister…,” your voice trailed off.
“Pubert Addams,” he said with a charming smile as he held out his hand toward you. “Lovely to make your acquaintance.”
A wet gasp-
-a snarl-
-relief-
-pain-
“-A pleasure, Mr. Addams,” you said, grasping his hand as gently as you possibly could. “That’s a name I haven’t heard in a long while.”
“I believe you knew my sister and her wife in college, did you not?” He asked as he let go of your hand.
A breathy moan-
-airy laughter-
-a warm sigh-
“-Quite a long time ago,” you said, “but yes.”
“Yes, I knew it was you,” he said with a smile that was far too familiar. Eerily so. “Are you free for a short while?” He asked. “I have a proposition for you.”
You sighed and shifted the weight to your good leg. It left an ache that rarely eased, though certainly not for lack of trying. Thanks to the glasses, you were confident your distrust was hidden. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust the young Addams boy; he seemed decent enough. You had worked with enough sleazy people to know who to trust and who to be wary of.
There was just the little problem of not wanting anything to do with an Addams.
Though, you supposed you could give the boy the benefit of the doubt. After all, what would it hurt? If he was anything like Wednesday - and it was beyond clear he was - he would love the danger. The thrill of propositioning you would far outweigh the danger of having you near. A brave boy.
Just like his older sister.
“I suppose I have time,” you finally said with a toothy grin. “I’ll buy you a drink.”
“Oh, I’m not old enough to drink,” he said quickly as he fell into step beside you. Exactly like his sister.
“A coffee then,” you amended.
He had no objections.
His hands were shoved into his pockets as he walked out of the courtroom with you. The stench of rancid blood filled your senses before you saw the commotion outside. Your client’s body lay sprawled along the steps, his blood flowing from the tips of his fingers; no one dared try to stop the bleeding. At the bottom, the police were shoving the victim’s brother into their cruiser.
“An eye for an eye turns the whole world blind,” Mr. Addams said with a shake of his head.
You didn’t dare hide your smile. “A beautiful sentiment.” You continued to walk past the scene, not looking back to see if Mr. Addams was following.
His footsteps quickened their pace to match yours before he stood beside you once again. It was a short, silent walk to the little cafe you had started to call your own. The barista was a wonderful young girl; she had easily fallen victim to the vampire charm you did your best not to throw around. Though you were a little less careful nowadays, but that was your little secret.
“What can I get for you, sugar?” The young waitress asked once you sat down. She, too, had fallen victim to your supernatural charm.
“A quad?” You asked once Mr. Addams sat across from you at the little table in the corner.
“Heavens no,” he said with his own charming smile, “I’ll take a mocha, thank you.”
“An espresso, darling,” you said with a smile at the waitress.
Her cheeks flushed. “I’ll have it for you in a moment.”
You tried not to mention your surprise at the young Addams going against what his older sister had made seem like tradition. Or perhaps she had changed over the years; it was a possibility she had come to enjoy the sweeter things in life. After all, Enid certainly did, so it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility. She always had been a lovestruck fool for Enid.
So were you.
You promptly ignored the thought.
“What is your proposition, Mr. Addams?” You asked as you continued to wait for your drinks.
“Ah, of course,” he said. He cleared his throat and sat up straight. “I would like to invite you to a soiree we happen to be hosting.”
“I’m nothing but a stranger to you,” you said simply. “What about me warrants an invitation?”
“My sister and her wife still talk of you,” he said. “Incessantly.” His smile was gentle; genuine. “I believe inviting you would make them happy.”
You didn’t grace that thought with a reply. If they still talked of you, that was their issue. Wednesday was certainly psychotic enough to desire your presence. Enid, also, could certainly be delusional enough. Seeing you again should bring them no sense of joy or peace; if anything, it should cause nightmares.
It didn’t matter that you often found yourself thinking of them in return. When you talked with clients who had a penchant for breaking the law, much like Wednesday. Committing their crimes guiltlessly for one reason or another. There was a difference in that Wednesday always had a good reason - even when you tried to make her believe she didn’t - but that could be easily overlooked when her cold brown eyes appeared in your mind.
And Enid was often seen in the young intern at your firm. Possessing a giddiness that was so often lost in people. Her colourful nails that you had been unable to forbid were like a flash of the past. The only difference was those nails were typing away at a computer instead of leaving scratches along your back. It was difficult, on occasion, to differentiate the two.
The waitress set the drinks on the table, giving you a wink and smile in the process. You smiled back, showcasing your fangs as she turned and walked back to the counter. If Mr. Addams hadn’t accompanied you, you would have flirted with the woman. Flashed a bit of cash, invited her home for a quick drink of your own before sending her back on her way.
You stirred your espresso for no good reason. At least it gave you time to think of your answer. Mr. Addams was gracious enough not to push. A wonderful change of pace from Wednesday, who would push until she regretted it. Which she had. Oh, she had, and you had all suffered for it.
There was no way you could tell Mr. Addams why you wanted to decline his invitation. If you even so much as hinted at the carnage you had caused, there was a high probability he would not only rescind his offer, but paint you as the monster you had already claimed for yourself. With good reason, of course, you hadn’t earned the title by sitting around.
On the other hand, just the mere thought of seeing Enid and Wednesday made your dead heart feel alive again. You had done your best to fill your nights with women. One after the other, never keeping them long enough to even learn their names. Each a new attempt to forget the two women who had taken your heart all those years ago. They never filled the hole; if anything, they made it bigger.
Perhaps…
“When is this little soiree of yours taking place?” You asked with a sigh, finally looking up from your espresso.
Now that smile was identical to his sister’s.
“I’ll fetch you the invitation.”
—---
You stood on the balcony of your apartment. Smoke curled around your fingers as the cigarette rested between them. The heat from the lit end was almost unbearable on your skin; it was a welcome feeling. City lights twinkled around you, creating constellations yet unnamed by the human race. Perhaps one day they would be prominent enough to fit in with the constellations of old.
It was the night before the soiree at the Addams residence. You had done your best to remain in control of your emotions the days leading up to it. Hell, you had even gone so far as to hire a few women just a few hours earlier to keep your thirst in check. You would rather receive a stake to the heart than risk another incident like the one that had created this situation in the first place.
And yet, even with all your preparations, you still couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom that had carved a home into the center of your chest.
The balcony door slid open.
“You coming back, baby?” The woman asked.
It was a shame you didn’t remember her name.
“Come on, baby,” she said, and you felt warm arms wrap around your waist. “I know you want another drink.”
You did. God you did. Just the thought of another drink left your throat searing. You tried to swallow, but all it did was burn like liquid fire trickling down your throat. With a sigh, you lifted the cigarette back to your lips and inhaled. If you were going to be in pain, you may as well finish off your cigarette.
“I’ll be there in a moment,” you said with an exhale that left smoke falling from your lips.
The warmth left your waist as she went back inside, and you heard her talking to… the… other woman. God, you really needed to learn the names of the people you drank from. If anything, it was the least you could do; it was polite. But you didn’t particularly care. All you knew was they weren’t Enid, and they weren’t Wednesday.
You were pathetic.
You took one more drag of your cigarette, feeling the heat burn the skin on your knuckles. The thick smoke left the taste of ash on your tongue and did nothing to ease the scorching pain in your throat. You dropped the cigarette butt to the ground and stepped on it with your heel. You hissed when it singed your heel; you had forgotten you were barefoot.
If you had possessed any sort of soul, you would have felt guilt. There was something tugging on your invisible heart strings, begging you to care about the women you were surrounding yourself with. No, that wasn’t accurate. It wasn’t something tugging at your heart strings; it was two voices that had haunted you for years.
They single handedly ruined your night. With no shame and no clue that they had even done so, they had ruined it. The women around you weren’t the right women. Their skin was soft, but it wasn’t the same. Their freckles were in the wrong spots, and their nails and hair were the wrong colour. Each and every moan was the wrong tone, and these women just weren’t right.
It was a struggle, but by the time the night was over, you had more than gotten your fill. There was no possible way you would still be thirsty by the time you made it to the Addams residence. Though that didn’t stop you from grabbing a blood bag from the fridge and tucking it into your pocket before you left your apartment.
You stopped by the mirror in your hall to make sure you looked alright. It was custom made to not contain any silver, allowing you to see at least a semblance of your reflection. It wasn’t perfect, but it was like looking at someone through water. A little blurry, slightly distorted, but you could tell it was a person.
Your eyes were drawn to the dark scars that weren’t entirely hidden by your shirt collar. The majority of the scars were hidden, but not those. They were a stark contrast on your neck; a stark reminder of your monstrosity. Subconsciously, you lifted your hand to run your fingers over the taut flesh. They still ached.
Teeth ripping through flesh. You could hear the blood pumping from the wounds, pouring out over your hands as you tried desperately to stop the flow. Your own blood cascaded down your throat, erasing any satisfaction you had previously received.
You could still smell the blood. It made your mouth water.
You still wanted more.
You recoiled as if burned. Out of all the times you could have that memory, this wasn’t the optimal day. It didn’t require any consideration before you walked back to the fridge and grabbed a second bag, placing it right beside the first within your jacket. You had one shot; you weren't going to blow it.
It was a beautiful day outside as you approached the Addams mansion. The sky was overcast, almost allowing you to take your glasses off. Not that you would have, but it would have been a nice option to have. Large groups of people made their way up the steps and into the mansion. It truly was a stunning building; you had missed it.
You fell into the back of a group, ensuring you were silent and could walk in unnoticed. Yes, of course someone would notice eventually, but you wanted a chance to settle back into the excessively large house. The smell of the slightly-rotting wood was enough to ease your racing pulse. It smelled like home.
While everyone continued to slowly make their way into the ballroom, you went the opposite direction. Your hand trailed against the walls, maneuvering around each and every item that was hanging. The paintings and knick knacks and more recent looking photos. Some were new, or at least newer than you. They certainly hadn’t been hanging on the wall the last time you had visited.
The idle chatter of the crowd started to fade the further you went.The hallway turned into a slightly larger room filled with framed photos and awards. You let your fingers hover over the nameplates on the awards. Spelling Bee, First Place. A smile tugged at your lips as you moved on. Silver, Figure Skating. Down and down the line, you looked at award after award. There were names underneath, but you didn’t waste your time looking at them.
After the awards were the photos. You picked up the first one with gentle hands; a wedding photo deserved care. It was no surprise to see Wednesday in black and Enid in something so bright it was almost blinding. The image alone had your chest aching. They looked rather happy.
Their happiness didn’t distract you from the scars down the side of Enid’s face. The ones that traveled from the corner of her eyes to her jaw. Based on the colour in the photo, they were freshly healed. You couldn’t see Wednesday’s; she had a black lace wrapped around her wrist. From the look of Enid’s, you could imagine.
You set the frame back down on the table and stepped back. The curiosity had disappeared, quickly replaced with something heavy. With a tight chest, you backed out of the room and made your way to the ballroom with everyone else. The slight limp in your step worsened. A sigh fell from your lips as you had to lean against the wall and reach down to tighten the brace. Your jaw clenched almost painfully as the brace became insufferably tight around your leg, but at least it gave you the ability to stand on your own once again.
Until you were nearly knocked over by children running down the hall.
“Excuse me!” One of them called back. A chorus of the same words were quick to follow as the other children ran after the first.
“Behave!” You froze. “And don’t push people!”
“Yes ma’am!” The children shouted.
If you had known you would have such a visceral reaction just to her voice, you wouldn’t have accepted the invitation. You had no idea your body itself would react to her voice. If you could sweat, you would have been. Your fingers twitched. Don’t turn, your mind told you. Begged, even. Desperate, feral, pathetic.
“Cara mia.” You forced yourself to take a step. “You forgot your shawl upstairs.”
Don’t turn around, your mind said. It was frantic. You forced another step. And another. Each one heavier than the last, as if your body was fighting with your mind. You truly were a fool to accept the invitation, and there wasn’t even a word to describe yourself for actually daring to appear. Stupid. That was the best word.
“Are you a vampire?”
You sighed and took a moment to calm your emotions before looking down. One of the children that had been running around was now standing beside you, looking up at you with bright eyes and a cocked head. It reminded you of- no, you wouldn’t think of that. You turned to face the child and shifted your weight to rest on your good leg.
“I am,” you said with a singular nod of your head. “And you are?”
“Oh,” they said with a smile. A large, wolfish smile. “I’m an Addams.”
You were thankful they couldn’t see your eyes. “Charmed.”
Of course they were an Addams. How could you ever think differently? The Addamses were magnets for trouble, and you didn’t have to know the child to deduct that they were, in fact, trouble. You turned away from them and looked back out into the ballroom.
“My mothers have a picture of you on their nightstand,” the child continued.
You wished they would leave.
“But you have scars, and the person in their picture doesn’t.”
You would have no shame in killing a child.
“My momma has scars too.” It would be simple. “They almost match yours.”
“Don’t harass the guests, dear.” 
Or perhaps you would simply kill yourself. It would certainly be less painful than whatever was about to happen. You could hear the echo of your dead heart beating loudly in your ears. Perhaps if you refused to turn around, she would continue walking. Walk right past you and into the crowd, leaving you behind as you so very much deserved.
But she didn’t continue walking as you desperately wished she would. She didn’t move out into the crowd, saying her greetings to the others as was customary. You could barely hear her footsteps at all above the incessant noise that you were wishing would get louder. Drown out all the thoughts and emotions bubbling up inside you.
“We weren’t sure you would come.”
You still refused to turn around. Even when you felt her sidle up next to you, her arm brushing lightly against yours. Oh, her warmth was glorious. You had forgotten just how lovely it was to feel her warming you up. To bring life to your soul in a way that only she was capable of. No amount of women in your bed had ever held a candle to her warmth.
“You look good.” Her voice was impossibly soft against the rising chaos of the soiree.
Growls and screaming echoed in your mind’s ear as you finally made the brave - or stupid - decision to turn your head. If you had thought your anxiety was bad before, you would have been impressed with your anxiety at that moment. The first thing your eyes took notice of were the healed, lightly coloured scars on her jaw.
The scars you had caused.
“You look healthy,” Enid said with a soft smile.
She looked so very grown. That childish glint in her eyes was still present, but she held herself with far more respect. The insecurity had long faded away, much like the scars that continued down her neck. The child was right; you almost matched.
“I fed before arriving,” you said. Your words felt like ash in your mouth. “No need for history to repeat itself.”
“We have more in the kitchen,” she said quickly. “If you need it.”
You opened your coat to show the two bags in the pocket. “I came prepared, thank you.”
She smiled a closed mouth smile and nodded before looking back out at the ballroom. That heavy feeling settled in your chest once again. After so many years, that was all you had to say to her? That you had fed already? Of course, that was probably the one thing she wanted to hear after so long. You were a fool. A damned fool.
“I hope the kids weren’t bothering you,” Enid said. “They get excited when we host gatherings.”
“They seem decent,” you said. Decent?? That’s the best you can come up with? “That one-” you pointed to the one with the bright eyes “-is rather talkative.”
Enid giggled, and for a moment, you felt young again. “Willa says she gets it from me.”
Willa. You could have laughed if it didn’t hurt so bad. Wednesday had always attempted to claim she hated it. Yet it never stopped the lightest blush on her cheeks when you or Enid would use the unassuming nickname. When was the last time you had even heard it?
Come on, Willa, put it down, I’m being serious.
You turned your body ever so slightly. You didn’t want Enid to see the scars creeping down your neck. Her hand brushed against yours. It was shameful how quickly you pulled your hand back, shoving it into your pocket. No good could come from her feeling the shake of your hand, or the scars that hid below the cloth of your clothes.
“Oh, there she is,” Enid said, this time reaching out to grab your arm a little harder than she probably meant to. “Stay right here, I’ll bring her over!”
The moment she left your side, the cold started to crawl back over your skin. It sunk into every vessel, every inch of your body, both inside and out. Attending the soiree was a mistake. A mistake that you couldn’t take back. Just like that night. Perhaps it wasn’t too late. You could leave before they came back and continue your miserable existence as you had been.
But then you saw them together, hand in hand. It was an unexpected thing to see Wednesday practically smiling at Enid. In public, that was. You couldn’t recall a single time she had smiled at anything in public. Yet there she was, walking closer and showing some semblance of physical affection in public. It was stunning. Your heart was almost beating.
Until your eyes landed on all the black lace that you knew covered scars no one could comprehend.
“I told you I saw them,” you heard Enid say as they both approached where you were frozen in place. “And I was right.”
Wednesday looked up at you with those stunning brown eyes. “So you were.”
Your fingers twitched in your pocket. Now that she was so close, you could smell her blood flowing through her veins. No matter how much you swallowed, you couldn’t ease the burn that was rising up your throat. You clenched your jaw tight, ignoring the sting of your fang piercing your lip.
Wednesday!
You didn’t know what to say. What could you say? “Hello Wednesday, I’m sorry for nearly draining you while you attempted to prove I wasn’t a monster.” Or even to Enid. “I apologise for trying to kill you when you stopped me from killing our girlfriend.” There was nothing you could say, to either of them, to justify what you had done. What you couldn’t forget.
“I told them you had their picture,” the previous child said as they approached along with the rest of the herd.
For the first time, you were thankful for children.
“So you told our secrets?” Wednesday asked. “You know what happens to those who tell our secrets.”
The old Wednesday would have sounded more intimidating and borderline threatening. Yet, even as her words said one thing, the soft look on her face said another. The children all smiled and tried to hide their laughter as they continued to look up at her.
“You’d better run,” Enid whispered.
Each of the children shared a look before running off, laughter following in their wake. It was almost… cute? Adorable, even? God, you needed to escape this place, you were almost turning soft. You needed to get back to your murderers and criminals, this was turning pathetic.
“As intimidating as ever, my love,” Enid said as she leaned down and placed a soft chaste kiss on Wednesday’s cheek.
It made you sick. The burn in your throat spread, turning into a searing pain in your chest and stomach. All that was left was the tingling in your fingers and legs and you were finished. You wished the inferno would swallow you whole, reducing you to nothing more than ash and bone.
“You seem pale,” Wednesday said.
It seemed you wouldn’t combust soon enough.
“I only arrived out of courtesy,” you said as you stood taller. “Now that I have said my hellos, I must say my goodbyes.”
You tried to act like the looks on Enid’s and Wednesday’s faces didn’t kill you inside. It was like a silver stake to the heart, spreading its carnage down every muscle fiber and blood vessel. After all these years, you had managed to hurt them again within only a few moments. And you didn’t even possess the decency to apologise for the first sleight against them.
“Do you have to?” Enid asked. “You could stay.” Her eyes fell. “We could talk.”
“Did Enid tell you we have more blood in the fridge?” Wednesday asked.
She circled her fingers around her lace-covered wrist.
“I don’t do house calls,” you said. You could hear Wednesday’s pulse over the crowd. “Especially with those I cannot pay penance to.”
And yet, you didn’t make a single move. Against your better wishes, your feet stayed glued to the floor. Each beat of Wednesday’s heart was enough to have your mouth salivating, yet you couldn’t leave. A memory popped into your head of Enid almost seeming disappointed that her blood wasn’t appetising to you. It was a fond memory, one you replayed often enough for it to seem like a core memory of your relationship.
“You could stay,” Enid said.
“We can go somewhere quieter,” Wednesday continued.
You didn’t want to go somewhere quiet, you wanted to go home. You internally scoffed at the word; you didn’t live in a home. It was just a building, with four walls and a new blood bag or two every night. You barely lived in it, instead opting to spend all your time in your office where nothing could remind you of the two women standing in front of you.
They were your home.
“Please?” Enid asked softly. Almost too softly. Even with your enhanced hearing you could barely discern the words over the jazz band that had started playing.
You sighed. Would it truly hurt to spend a few moments with them? To give you some semblance of normalcy that only they could provide? After all, you could see the muscles underneath Enid’s skin. If you truly lost control, surely she could stop you. She had stopped you before.
The scars reminded you of it every day.
“Very well,” you said with a slight nod.
Enid was the one to reach out and grab your hand, pulling it out of its pocket and linking her fingers with yours. Her nails dug into the back of your hand, drawing out a sting that was a welcome distraction. The ache in your throat was ever present as Wednesday walked right beside you while Enid led you out of the ballroom.
The hustle and bustle of the ballroom slowly faded into oblivion as you were led down the corridors of the Addams mansion. You could recall memories from each room you passed. Each with their own story to tell. Stories of stolen kisses, scandalous rendezvous, silent moments with the women you loved, but together and separate.
When Enid stopped in the kitchen, you would have laughed had it been under any other circumstance. It was clear they had the same thoughts on their minds when Enid sat you down and Wednesday retrieved a blood bag from the fridge. She placed it between you and her when she sat opposite you at the table.
How comical.
They both stared at you with unwavering gazes. What was going through their minds, you wondered. Were they feeling the same way you had? Broken, anxious about fucking up, convinced you had blown your chance? Or perhaps they were waiting for you to break and recreate what had happened on that fated night all those years ago.
You sighed when you deduced they wouldn’t speak first.
“You both look well,” you said in a croaky voice that, if they were wise, was indicative of the state of your instincts. Think of something else to say. “Are all those children yours?”
Think of something less ridiculous.
“Yes they are,” Wednesday said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. It was almost condescending; you loved it.
“Pubert said you’re a lawyer?” Enid asked.
“Defence attorney,” you said with a nod, “yes.”
“Is it, ah, fun?” She asked.
You sighed. If the entire night was going to go along those lines - awkward and uncomfortable, tip toeing around every word - you would rather leave. Not a single positive thing could come from such a conversation. It was talking for talking sake. You all hated small talk, that was something that you knew had never changed, yet there you were, struggling to find any sort of conversation.
“It’s acceptable,” you said before placing both palms on the table. “I believe I really should be getting on.”
You attempted to push yourself up from the seat. Attempted being the key word. It wasn’t often your bad knee would buckle when standing; usually reserved for long nights in your office where you had barely managed to take bathroom breaks. Yet when you pushed yourself up, you felt the strain in your knee. It was a familiar feeling, that weakness before a painful tightness that so often forced you back into your seat.
And it did. Your grip on the table meant nothing as your knee shook for a nanosecond before giving out underneath you. Thankfully the gasp never actually left your lips. You could taste the copper in your mouth as you bit your tongue in an effort to stay silent. In the end, your entire leg trembled.
Enid and Wednesday stood up quickly, knocking their chairs back and watching your every move. You wished they would come to you; you were glad they didn’t. The looks on their faces was terrifying enough. Identical looks to the ones they had had that night.
“Wednesday, put it down,” you said when she refused to remove the knife from her hand.
“Your fears of being a monster are unwarranted,” she said as she gripped the blade tighter. “You wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
She had barely broken the skin before the scent hit you. It had been months since you had fed, and she had broken the floodgates. Everything about her disappeared except for the small drop of blood pooling at the bottom of her hand.
You didn’t feel yourself practically jumping toward her. You didn’t hear her gasp when you ripped the knife from her hand. You didn’t see the look on her face as you licked up the blood on her palm, or when you moved up her hand to bite the pulse point on her wrist.
But you tasted the nectar that flowed through her veins. You felt the strong pulse beneath your lips. You felt the scorching hot blood falling down your chin before you simply couldn’t keep up with the flow. Something vaguely pushed against your neck, but it was little more than a nuisance. All you knew was the blood in your mouth and the warmth on your lips.
Vaguely, you heard something. A scream, a growl, something breaking, you couldn’t tell the difference. It was nothing compared to the relief you were getting. How could you care about something in the outside world when you had such a delicious-
-something solid slammed into your body. The skin underneath your lips vanished, replaced by the cold air around you. When your body stopped rolling, you could feel the aches already starting to form. It didn’t matter. You zeroed in on Wednesday’s wrist again.
You were met with what felt like a truck slamming into your leg. Bones cracked, stretching the tendons and muscles with the new direction they were facing. It wouldn’t hold any weight when you tried to stand up. No matter; that was why you had two legs.
Something large and furry stepped in between you and Wednesday. Nothing about it was familiar in that moment. Instinct told you it was nothing but an obstacle in the way of your feed. It charged, and you swiped. Your fingers clipped something even as you felt its claws rake across your skin.
You tried to stand. Something sharp crossed your chest; the air was cold on your skin. When you stood up again, it was met with similar results. The third attempt got you closer to Wednesday. When something sharp clasped around your shoulder and threw you back to the ground, you stilled.
That hot blood you had gorged yourself on started to feel hot on your neck. Not in it, on it. You opened your mouth to speak and felt the liquid spew from your lips, falling down your face in all directions. Your hand lifted to the side of your neck. Your fingers pushed past the skin and then-exposed muscle.
As you pushed harder on the wounds, doing your best to staunch the flow of blood, the world started to come back to you. Blackness peeled back from your vision. The blurry world started to come into focus along with the sounds that you could finally discern as gasps and growls.
So did the pain.
You were drowning in the blood you had stolen. Your head lolled to the side even as you coughed again, spewing blood into the air like some demented fountain. A werewolf was across the room, hovering over Wednesday even as it transformed back into a person. Back into Enid. Her bare skin was shredded in places.
Wednesday was bleeding out from more than one bite mark.
You had attacked them. Both of them. The women you loved. They were bleeding out. Because of you.
You released the pressure from your neck and felt the blood continue to fall.
“I’m sorry,” you said softly. Something wet fell down your cheeks.
“I know,” Wednesday answered just as softly. It was humiliating.
It was lovely.
“Please stay,” Enid said. You looked down to see her reach her hand across the table.
You shouldn’t. You had nearly killed them, had gone into a frenzy that you hadn’t experienced ever again. What if it happened again with them? After all those years, you still loved them. You would never admit to anyone, but you kept their photos on your desk at work. You couldn’t risk hurting them again. Couldn’t risk killing them. You were a monster, and that fact alone was never going to change.
They looked at you expectantly.
For when is a monster not a monster?
You reached forward and placed your hand on top of Enid’s.
Oh, when you love it.
571 notes · View notes
sv5hive · 1 month
Text
too little, too late. | lh44
pairing: lewis hamilton x fem!reader
content warning(s): angst, swearing, lewis is a bit of a dick in this sorry, unhappy ending because i love being miserable 🫶🏻
word count: 1,763
note: thank you so much for all the likes and reblogs on my first work a few days ago!! i didn't expect all the love so it is very, very appreciated :) this is a bit long so get comfy! and i also listened to you're losing me by taylor swift while writing so... yeah.
(psst! part 2 is here!)
(masterlist!)
memories from the night you two met flashed through your mind as you stood alone in the dim kitchen. the hangover from the next morning meant most of the night was a blur of shots, flashing lights and sweaty bodies but those deep brown eyes and endearing smile remained sharply in focus.
you stared at the two cold plates of dinner abandoned on the table and a bottle of wine nearing the end.
where had it all gone wrong?
six years.
six years of supporting him through everything.
and you loved being with lewis no matter what. seeing him in his element while racing was just as exciting for you as it was for him. but when would it end? you couldn't keep your life on pause forever.
back in 2017 when you first started dating you discussed a life of peace. a life with a big family and a nice house in england where your children could grow up normally like the both of you did. and you weren't foolish. you would never truly have peace when you were in a relationship with lewis hamilton, the face of formula 1. but you were willing to give up any sense of normality if it meant you could be with the love of your life.
or so you thought.
years passed as you watched all your friends get engaged and married, settle down and start their own families. at every bachelorette party, wedding reception, baby shower, family event you would be asked the same questions.
"when is he going to pop the question? you two have to get married! i bet he's planning to do it soon."
and every time you would have the same response.
"oh we're just taking it slow. he's pretty busy with racing and we both agreed that it wouldn't be fair for him to be away so much."
and you really did believe that at first.
either you didn't notice the stares of pity or you ignored them to convince yourself that everything was ok. it was only when you brought up the idea of finally having kids that you started doubting yourself.
"hey, lew. i've been thinking."
"hmm, yeah? what about." he replied absentmindedly, still searching netflix for a good movie to watch.
you passed him the bowl of popcorn to hold while you got under the blanket.
"i was thinking that we're finally ready to start a family."
he stilled. that was the last thing he thought you would bring up.
"lewis?"
"i want a family too, you know that. but i can't retire without getting that eighth championship. we're almost there. besides, i don't wanna leave you at home with a kid and not be there for every step of the way."
both of you knew at the rate mercedes was going, lewis would need a miracle and a half to win another title against red bull and their rocket ship.
he avoided your eyes and clearly thought that was the end of the matter so you accepted that when he was ready he would tell you. right?
you tossed and turned that night, unable to get the way he brushed off the topic so coldly out of your head. did you imagine it? that flicker of hesitance on his face? a pit of uneasiness settled at the bottom of your stomach as you desperately tried to reason with yourself. no. everything is fine. you had already waited a few years. what was a couple more?
so you tucked away your dreams of a family into the back of your mind for the time being and just enjoyed your relationship with lewis. every date felt like the first and you never wanted your love to end.
"lewis...this is too much!" as you stared in awe at the lone table in the middle of a completely empty restaurant.
rose petals led you two all the way from the entrance to a table with a single rose stood in a vase in the centre as candles flickered softly.
"for you? never."
staring at him in the golden light, you couldn't help but blush at his romantic gesture. he was making up for being away during a triple header and you hated to admit it but you could get used to this.
racing. you smiled at the thought of seeing lewis race. it was like seeing an artist produce a masterpiece every time pencil hit paper. he truly was an incredible sight to see.
you were there for each of his championships since 2017. you witnessed the joy of 2020 and the heartbreak of 2021. you were there, celebrating each win with him and consoling him after each loss, every time. you had fallen in love with the sport you once had no knowledge of just as hard as you had fallen for lewis. you knew how much of a toll each season took on him and you were always going to be there to pick him back up. his world became yours as you met his team and soon enough you were a familiar sight in the mercedes garage.
wasn't seven world championships enough for him?
you would never ask him to give up his career for you. and he would never ask that of you. but after years of waiting for the next step you couldn't help but wonder whether he still wanted that with you.
he was more than an hour late now. both of your schedules had been almost completely full for the past few months and you thought it would be nice to catch up over homemade dinner.
apparently he didn't think the same.
you hadn't bothered calling or texting. he always turned his phone off while at work anyways. as you finished off the last mouthful of wine the jingle of keys and the door unlocking brought you back out of your thoughts.
heavy footsteps trudged through the hallway.
"hey baby, i didn't think you would be up- what's all this?"
"dinner. i've been waiting for two hours now." you turned away from the counter to face him.
"shit. i am so sorry. i just got so caught up at work. we've been trying to improve the car to-"
"-to beat red bull. i know. i know."
"i promise i'll make it up to you. what about dinner next week? at that chinese restaurant you really like?" he walked towards you and went to wrap his arms around you before you pushed him away.
"stop, lewis. just stop. i can't keep doing this." you couldn't look him in the eyes.
a pin drop could be heard as lewis' blood ran cold.
"what?"
the change in atmosphere almost made you wish you had never said anything. almost.
"i can't keep waiting on you, lewis. i'm sorry."
"i said i would make it up to you." the look of pure confusion on his face would be amusing if it weren't for the fact that you were on the verge of tears.
"it's not just about dinner, lewis."
"then what is it about?"
"everything. god, we've been together for eight years and we're not even engaged and nowhere near starting a family. we have nothing to show for it. i knew i would have to wait and i was fine with that but i just can't anymore. this isn't what i imagined for us."
"so what? you're just going to leave? you know how i feel about having kids."
"and i get that, i do. but are you even planning on retiring in the near future? we're not getting any younger and i've been ready for a while now. i just don't think our ideas of our future are the same anymore."
"am i just meant to drop everything for you then? give it all up?"
"fuck, of course not, lewis. i would never ask you to do that. never. but sometimes it feels like you choose your career over me. and i know what it takes to be in formula 1 to win, i know you need to give it your full focus. i just, i need you to choose me for once. choose us."
"no, you don't know what it takes because if you did, you wouldn't be doing this to me right now. in the middle of the season."
you blinked. once. twice. you couldn't believe what you were hearing.
"are you fucking kidding me, lewis? i'm ending our six year relationship and you're thinking of how it's going to effect your season?"
"yes! fuck, this is my whole life. it always has been and it always will be."
there it is. confirmation from the man himself. you stumbled on your words trying to convey your anger as your blood continuously boiled at his miserable attempt to fix his mess.
"have you ever even thought about how i've felt all these years? giving every excuse in the book to our families and friends about why we haven't taken the next step in our relationship and defending you when they said i was too good for you? you may get to avoid them by going to the races but i don't have that privilege."
your throat was dry at this point as you gasped for air and still, he was stood almost unbothered at the fact you were hopelessly clinging onto the last remaining threads of your relationship, willing him to fight back.
"so that's it? you're not going to stop me?"
tears pooled at your eyes as you realised this was really happening.
"well clearly you've thought this out pretty well."
you didn't know whether to laugh, cry or throw the empty bottle of wine at his head.
"you are fucking unbelievable, lewis. i thought this meant something to you but clearly not."
you stormed towards the door and opened it. you paused while silently hoping he would beg you to stay. hoping he would risk everything for you.
but it never came.
you wiped away your tears and tried to at least sound somewhat assertive despite your voice wavering.
"let me know when you're not at home and i'll come get my things."
you slammed the door shut with a resounding bang and walked away from the place and person you had called home for so long.
he sighed and rubbed his face with his hand. as he moved to get a beer out of the fridge his gaze fell on the calendar stuck to the front. there was a red heart around today's date with "anniversary!" written in your handwriting.
fuck.
note: yikes. i hope you aren't too sad because of me. any feedback is appreciated!! let me know what else you wanna see :)
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pathologicalreid · 2 months
Text
occupational hazard | S.R.
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You and Spencer have a discussion about the dangers of his job.
who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff content warnings: plot discussions from 9x23 (angels) and 9x24 (demons), canon compliant injuries, crying, established relationship word count: 1.23k a/n: thought of this while i couldn't sleep after watching the season 9 finale. also its me. I'm the crier.
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Your mother always said you had a problem with staring. In the grocery store as a kid, she would pull you to the side and tell you that you were being rude. It always confused you because you didn’t think it was possible to be rude without speaking.
Spencer never seemed to mind your staring, he’d ask if everything was alright, but he never really asked you to stop or told you off.
So, while he was over at your apartment, sitting on the couch grading papers, you just stared at him. You studied how his hair fell in front of his face as he scrawled on the printed paper, and how he set his jaw when he noticed a mistake. Your brows furrowed when you noticed a small scar on the side of his neck, a confused noise escaped your throat.
That got his attention, “What’s wrong?” He asked, matching your furrowed brows before setting his pen down.
Cocking your head curiously, you leaned forward to try to look at his neck, “What is that?” You whispered. It was an old scar, so you could only really notice it when the light hit it just right.
“What is what?” He asked, looking behind him and on his shirt like he was looking for a spill.
Gently, you reached out your hand and touched the scar with your fingertips. “Where did you get this scar?” You couldn’t believe you had never noticed it before – the two of you had been dating for more than half a year.
He reached up his hand and met yours, intertwining your hands together, “On a case in Texas.”
Your lips parted slightly as you looked at the scar again. “How did you get that scar on a case in Texas?” You asked, even though you were fairly certain you knew the answer.
Turning, Spencer set all of the papers on the side table before he turned back to face you. “I was shot in the neck,” he answered almost a little too calmly. As if it was just another day in the office, and maybe it was to him.
It certainly wasn’t to you. “What do you mean you got shot in the neck?” You asked, your voice was high and reedy with panic. Fear settled in your chest on behalf of a version of your boyfriend you didn’t even know.
“Hey, hey,” he said in an attempt to calm you down. “I’m okay, this happened almost five years ago, love. I’m fine,” he said, cupping your cheeks with both of his hands.
Your eyes were still wide, like deer in the headlights wide, and you nodded despite yourself. “That’s so scary, Spence,” you whispered as emotion burned in your throat. You knew he worked for the FBI and had for a long time. You knew he had been in love with a girl who was killed in front of him – that’s why he was so protective sometimes. You knew he had been in prison for three months for a crime he didn’t commit – that’s why he taught classes for thirty days. This was the first thing you had figured out – you had told him to tell you everything in his own time.
For a moment, he watched you like he had something he wanted to say but wasn’t sure where to start.
You sat on your heels and retracted your hands from his neck, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to pry I just… I saw the scar.” Awkwardly settling your hands in your lap, you sighed. “You’re right, it was a long time ago.”
“Wait, what just happened?” He asked dumbfoundedly.
Shrugging, you settled into the couch cushions. “I just saw the scar and I was curious,” you whispered as your eyes burned. “I didn’t… I just mean you don’t owe me an explanation.”
Reaching into your lap, Spencer took one of your hands in his, gently skimming the pad of his thumb over your knuckles. “You can always ask, it’s a fact that my job is dangerous,” he told you softly. “Getting hurt is an occupational hazard. It was never my intention to make you feel like you can’t ask me questions about… Why are you crying?”
You wiped furiously under your eyes at the tears that had flooded your eyes, “because you got shot.”
“You’re crying because I was shot five years ago?” He asked in bewilderment, his tone wasn’t belittling, he was genuinely surprised at your reasoning.
Nodding, you pressed the heels of your hands into your eyes in an attempt to stop your tears. “I am a crier; I cry at everything. Please don’t read into this,” you pleaded, embarrassment flooding your cheeks.
Gently, Spencer pried your hands away from your face, “Please don’t cry. I hate seeing you cry, and I don’t know what to do.”
You shook your head, and your bleary eyes met his, “Really, Spence, I’m fine. I’m just a crier, okay? Sad, happy, mad, I cry.” You looked up at the ceiling light and sniffled, fanning your face in an attempt to dry it off.
He was staring at you, “You are quite possibly the sweetest human being I have ever met.” Spencer reached out and pulled you to him, “Look at me.”
Begrudgingly, you looked at him. “How many times have you been shot?”
“I’m not answering that until you stop crying,” he said, sweeping your hair behind your ears.
That answer did absolutely nothing to comfort you. Huffing, you pressed your lips into a thin white line, “I’m fine,” you whispered, “I’m just crying.”
Spencer smiled at you, “That is an oxymoron, and you know it.” His smile faded, “I’ve been shot three times.”
“Oh my god, Spencer,” you said, dropping your head to his shoulder.
He hummed softly, turning his head to press a kiss to your temple, “Once in the knee, once in the arm, and once in the neck. Please don’t cry.”
You nodded into him, “Yeah, you’re… you’re okay now, right?”
“I’m fine, sweetheart,” he whispered. “Is there anything I can do to help you feel better?” He asked softly, running his hands along your back.
You bury your face in the crook of his neck, “I love you,” you whispered.
His movements falter for just a moment, “I love you too.”
Pulling away and wiping your eyes, “You should finish grading those papers,” you whispered to him, moving away.
Instead of letting you go, Spencer pulled you closer, “I’ll finish tomorrow. I want to be here with you now,” he responded softly. “Are we okay?”
“Your job scares me,” you answered candidly, “but we’re good. We’re great.”
He nodded self-assuredly, “I can’t change the job, but you could meet my team if you wanted to. Maybe meeting them would make you more comfortable with me going out into the field,” he offered. “And maybe I could…” his voice trailed off as he mumbled something else.
Tilting your head curiously, you hummed in an attempt to prod at him, “Maybe you could what?”
“I could make you my emergency contact. If that’s something you’re comfortable with,” he said. “I’ve never really had anyone to add, but I’m sure Emily wouldn’t mind.”
You smiled softly at him, grateful for every bit he let you in, “I would be honored. Just don’t have any emergencies.”
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switchypanic · 2 months
Text
Wishful Thinking || A 'Hazbin Hotel' Tickle Fic (100 Follower Special)
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Summary: Vox's obsession with Alastor is no secret, but the true extent and nature of said obsession is an entirely different story. As his thoughts grow increasingly consumed by his rival, Vox finds it harder and harder to think about anything else, ultimately coming to a head with a very interesting discovery.
Content Warnings: Canon-typical language, brief mild violence, use of restraints, a lil' bit of blackmail, and Vox being a thirsty bitch for Alastor (because we love a good dose of one-sided attraction). Also, not really a warning, but any scenes that take place in somebody's head are in blue and italics (you'll see what I mean as you read).
Word Count: 3,669 words.
Vox couldn't fucking stand Alastor.
His stupid smile, his stupid voice, those stupid powers that allowed him to crush anyone in his way like an insect. The man was infuriating, always acting so calm and in control, even after Vox managed to get the drop on him that fateful day seven years ago. It was like nothing could touch him in any MEANINGFUL way, a fact that frustrated Vox to no end.
Yes, Alastor was nothing but a big pain in the ass, constantly doing anything in his power to screw with Vox, oftentimes broadcasting it for the entirety of Pride to witness.
Worst of all was the way that he infiltrated Vox's processor, filling his head with fantasies he had no way of controlling without shutting himself down completely. And it wasn't even intentional! That bastard had no idea what he was doing, or if he did, he gave no indication of it! No, he just kept on smiling that stupid grin, making those passive aggressive remarks, acting like he wasn't the thing consuming Vox's mind nearly twenty-four hours a day.
Vox watched the surveillance footage captured earlier that morning, feeling his breath hitch at the staticky image being displayed. He could just barely make out Alastor's form through the distortion (another thing that Vox hated about him; the bastard made it damn near impossible to get a clear image of him), standing outside the doors of little Princess Morningstar's hotel discussing something unintelligible with that winged cat sinner who often hung around him.
Through the grainy audio, he could just make out Alastor barking out a laugh, the sound itself laced with static and radio interference. The deer demon's shoulders shook, his ears pinning back slightly as he chortled, his companion letting out an irritated huff in response.
How many times had Vox watched the clip now? He had honestly lost count. He didn't know why he kept returning to that particular moment of footage; nothing particularly useful or interesting was occurring. Just a regular conversation, from what he could tell. There was just...something in the other overlord's moment of mirth that captured his full attention, setting something ablaze within the TV demon.
More; he wanted to hear more.
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The lights flickered, the sound of screeching radio filling the air, accompanied by something entirely different.
Giggling, pure and hysterical.
Alastor lurched forwards, hands latched onto Vox's wrists as he tried to lean forward and away from the other demon, who held him firmly against his chest. "Rehehehehelease me at ohohohohonce!" The usually composed overlord was a mess, face tinted a bright shade of red, eyes crinkled with mirth as another wave of snickers shook his frame. "Shihihihihihihit!"
Vox chuckled, leaning forward to croon into Alastor's ear, which immediately flicked at the feeling of the other's warm breath. "What's the matter, old man? Too ticklish?" He sang, smirk widening. "What would the public think, knowing the famed Radio Demon is so...sensitive..." He growled the last part, low and teasing, resulting in a shriek of microphone feedback from Alastor. "Perhaps I should turn on some of my cameras, hm? I doubt you could focus on messing with them while your giggling so hard. I could let all of Hell know just how much of a ticklish little-"
Vox blinked, pulled from his daydream by a raised brow from Velvette. "Vox, are you listening to me? This is important shit! I need to make sure you're on top of the advertisements for my new collection if we are going to see any substantial sales!"
Vox cleared his throat, trying to urge his screen to COOL THE FUCK DOWN before his flusteredness became obvious. "Apologies, I seem to have gotten distracted. You were saying, my sweet?"
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Vox chuckled, watching his rival's squirming form, bound to the chair with the purest grade of angelic steel money could buy.
Only the best for this occasion.
"Well, well! Look what the cat dragged in!" Vox laughed, walking in circles around Alastor, taking in every detail of the scene before him. He was going to relish thing; savor it. He had waited so long to have the other at his mercy, and now he was going to take his sweet time and ENJOY the fruits of his labor. "You've lost your touch, old timer! It was far too easy to catch you in my little trap."
Alastor's eyes narrowed, grin tightening in a clear show of displeasure. "You would do well to remember who you are speaking to." He retorted, chin raising defiantly as Vox finally stopped in front of him.
"Oho, I remember good and well. I'm talking to the prick who has done nothing but make my life harder ever since he arrived here, and I'm going to see to it you feel every second of what's coming next." He leaned forward, locking eyes with the other overlord as he gave a grin of his own, his far more devious. "Little buck."
Vox's hand's shot out, latching onto Alastor's ribcage and beginning to claw at the boney torso. Alastor's breath hitched, his eyes widening with alarm. His grin became more strained as he jerked forward, trying to curl inwards on himself. His breathing became sporadic, lips sealed shot as a wobbly, genuine smile began to curl at the corners of his mouth. "F-Fuhuhuck!"
The TV demon laughed lowly. "Trying to hold out, are we? We'll see how long that lasts..."
Vox awoke with a start, his screen turning on as he bolted up in bed. His eyes were wide, immediately flicking over to Valentino, who lay beside him. Thankfully, the moth was still sound asleep, snoring loudly without a care in the world. Vox sighed, running a hand across his face and feeling the heat of a blush under his palm.
Damn it, this was starting to get out of control!
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Vox was going mad! No matter how hard he tried to clear his thoughts, they always returned back to those deep, hidden desires playing out over and over in his processor. He found himself constantly thinking about Alastor's smile, his laugh, the prospect of taking him down with a few well placed squeezes or prods. To make matters worse, Vox was having a hard time FUNCTIONING at work because of this, and he could tell the other Vees were starting to catch on that something was up.
The TV demon rung his hands together, pacing back and forth in his private office. He had to find a solution FAST or he was royally screwed!
'Damn you, Alastor!’ Vox thought, a small growl slipping out as he rubbed his forehead, flopping into his chair and turning to face one of the many spying monitors plastered to the wall. "Pull up what we have on the Hazbin Hotel." He grumbled, giving in to his urge to spy on his rival once more. Inside, he secretly hoped to catch another fleeting moment of mirth from Alastor, even if it was just a chuckle.
Three monitors came to life, showing the hotel from various angles, with one focused directly on the front entrance. Aside from his...ongoing interest in the Radio Demon, Vox liked to keep tabs on who was going in and out of the hotel, just to make sure the princess wasn't gaining any more powerful allies he needed to know about. The scene was serene, or at least as serene as a live feed of Hell COULD be, nothing out of place. It seemed luck wasn't on Vox's side, as Alastor was nowhere to be seen. The TV host felt his eye twitch in irritation, disappointment stirring within him.
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"You motherfucker! This is a brand new suit!" Vox yelled angrily as Alastor dodged another of his attempts to strike him.
The Radio Demon let out an amused chuckle (though unfortunately not the kind of laugh Vox had been secretly craving), one flick of his microphone sending three tentacles darting at Vox from different directions, which the other barely managed to avoid. "Really? Could have fooled me with how tacky and outdated it looks." The redhead retorted smugly.
"Oh, fuck you! I'll wipe that shit-eating grin off your face!" Vox retorted, giving up on using his powers in favor of lunging for the deer demon himself.
Alastor took a step back, Vox's claws just barely grazing the sides of his neck. The radio host opened his mouth, as if to make another snide remark, but whatever he said died in his throat and was replaced by a startled crack of microphone feedback. The two demons froze, eyes widened as they stared at each other wordless for a moment.
"What the fuck was-" Vox started, but in the blink of an eye, Alastor was gone and their fight was seemingly over.
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"I mean, seriously?! What the fuck WAS that?!" Vox asked himself, finding himself pacing around his private surveillance room once more. "He never runs from a fight with me! Shit, he only ran from Adam because he was about to fucking die! He was nowhere near that point today!"
Did Vox somehow managed to hurt him? No, he had thrown far worse at the Radio Demon before without leaving so much as a scratch. He had BARELY touched him, and even with his claws, it couldn't have possibly hurt. So what...
The TV demon stopped, eyes shooting wide open as his breath quickened. No...no fucking way...
Alastor was ticklish. Not just in Vox's mind's eye, not just in his secret fantasies. He was actually, tangibly ticklish, and going from the reaction one brief touch had garnered, horrifically so.
Vox's processor raced at the prospect. He had been daydreaming about turning the other overlord into a cackling puddle, wheezing for mercy through a cracked voice, but he had never actually imagined it was possible! Vox got the feeling this discover was only going to make his daydreaming problem worse, but at the moment, he couldn't bring himself to care.
Alastor was TICKLISH...
'There has to be some way I can...some trick I can pull to...' Vox's mind raced, barely able to finish a sentence. He HAD to have the other now, even if just for a brief instance. Vox NEEDED to feel that high of reducing his mortal enemy to giggling shambles; to know what it felt like to be the one to finally BREAK the feared Radio Demon. But how?
Obviously the heat of battle wasn't the best place, though it would ensure a public audience to witness his victory. He doubted Alastor would agree to a private meeting, especially after their most recent fight. And there was CERTAINLY no way Vox was going to lower himself enough to go crawling to Princess Morningstar's little hotel. No, Vox was going to have to come up with another solution.
"Something on your mind?" A voice purred from behind him, low and dangerous. Vox yelped, whipping around with widened eyes. From one of the darkened corners of the room, Alastor seeped out of the shadows, grin ever present but appearing more strained than usual. Vox felt a nervous lump form in his throat.
"What the fuck?! How did you even get in here?!" He yelled, immediately moving to hit the alarm button on his control console, only to find his wrist being suddenly restrained by a shadowy tentacle sprouting from the floor.
"Ah, ah!" Alastor tutted, taking a few steps forward. "None of that. I just want to talk." He cocked his head to the side. "And as for how I got in, let's just say your security is shockingly terrible for a demon of your status."
Vox's eyes narrowed. "If you're going to kill me, at least make it quick." He growled, attempting to put on a brave face and save a bit of his pride.
"Kill you? Why, I'm planning to do no such thing, at least not today! After all, to defeat one's rival in such a disgraceful, sneaky manner would not be becoming of either of us, would it?" Alastor chuckled, moving closer to Vox as another tentacle grabbed ahold of his other wrist, keeping the TV demon rooted firmly in place. A flash of green magic briefly passed over Alastor's eyes as he chuckled. "Though it would be quite easy for me to do so with you sooo defenseless."
Vox's brows furrowed in confusion. "Then why the hell are you here?"
"Like I said, I just want to talk." Alastor leaned forward, maintain eye contact with the shorter demon. "To ensure that you keep your trap shut about matters which do not concern you."
"What are you going on about?" Vox sighed, clearly irritated by the other's continued vagueness. He continued to stare at the other demon, who merely continued to watch him wordlessly, before it dawned on him. "You're worried I'm gonna tell somebody you're fucking ticklish?"
Alastor's eye gave the slightest twitch. "Sensitive." He corrected.
"I'm pretty sure you're ticklish." Vox retorted, taking some delight in his rival's clear displeasure. "And what makes you think holding me hostage in my own office would stop me from mentioning it during my next broadcast? You can't keep me like this forever."
The sound of microphone feedback briefly overtook the air around him, making Vox wince at the volume and pitch. "No, I can't keep you here indefinitely, but I can provide you with a little incentive to keep your trap shut." One of the tentacles coiled further down Vox's arm, the end gently brushing over the trapped overlord's armpit. Vox tensed, breath hitching as his eyes grew wide as saucers. "You see, don't think I haven't noticed your own sensitivity, Vox. In fact, I've known about it for some time."
Shit.
"I-I don't know what you're talking about! Get the fuck away from me!" Vox stammered, eyes locked onto the other's devious smirk.
"Oh, come now, don't be shy! It's not as if it was especially hard to find out about! We have fought so often, categorizing your little weak points was easy enough to accomplish!" Alastor took a step closer as the shadowy tentacle began to stroke Vox's armpit more firmly, slowly moving up and down in an agonizingly teasy motion. "I will admit, it took me some time to figure out why you often flinched at the slightest of touches during battle. However, all it took was witnessing one little tickle fight at the hotel to make everything fall into place."
Another of Alastor's tentacle slipped up, beginning to tweak at Vox's side, causing him to bite down on his lip in a desperate attempt to hold back snickers. "Those weren't the reactions of a man barely avoiding a fatal blow, those were the reactions of a man trying oh so hard to keep from giggling."
Vox felt his screen heating more and more by the second, both from embarrassment and the effort to keep his laughter bottled up. What the fuck was happening?! How was this real life?! The TV demon lurched forward, straining against the restrains as a particularly well-placed prod to his hipbone pulled a soft snort out of him. "Shuhuhut the fuck up!"
"Being stubborn, are we? I expected nothing less." Alastor chuckled, clearly amused. "Perhaps I should take a page from Angel Dust's playbook then, hm?" The other overlord suddenly materialized behind Vox, melting from the shadows and resting a clawed hand on the back of Vox's head. His grip tightened, pulling Vox's head backwards as he crooned into his ear. "Coochie coochie coo..."
Vox just about short circuited at that, the sound of loud television static filling the air. As Alastor's free hand suddenly dug into his stomach, he couldn't hold back any longer, bursting into a wave of panicked giggles. "Ohohohoho shihihihihihit!" The flood gates had opened, and Vox had no hope of closing them again, no matter how hard he tried.
"Lovely." Alastor seemed quite pleased with himself, clawed fingers scribbling across his rival's exposed midriff as the tentacles (thankfully) stopped their own attacks, now focusing on holding the TV demon nice and still.
"Fuhuhuhuhuck you! Lehehehehet mehehehe go!" Vox tried to sound threatening, he really did, but that was impossible when every word was laced with titters. He squirmed desperately, attempting to curl inwards and protect his sensitive torso, but the restraints held firm. His voice raised in pitch as Alastor zeroed in on his upper stomach, just below the ribs, refusing to acknowledge the borderline squeal he made.
"And why would I do that? I have you right where I want you; nice and helpless..." There was a low growl to Alastor's words, both threatening and teasing in the most awful of ways, sending Vox further spiraling into flusteredness. His claws began to slowly inch upwards, like a spider slowly climbing towards prey trapped in its web. "From what I have gathered, your ribs seem to be an area you're quite desperate to defend during our little fights. I wonder why that could be, hm?"
The TV host began shaking his head furiously. "Dooohohon't yohohohou fucking dahahahahare! I'll kihihihihihihill you!" He snorted, the sound of television static increasing ever so slightly.
"Oops, too late!" Alastor's claws dug in, beginning to rake across Vox's rib cage slowly, moving up to just below the armpits before cascading back down to just above the stomach.
Vox screeched, thrashing becoming downright desperate as he threw his head back with laughter. "NOHOHOHOHOHOOO! OHOHOHOHOHO MY GAHAHAHAHAHAD, STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!" His cooling systems had kicked in, the fans whirling loudly as they attempted to cool down his quickly heating form. "NAHAHAHAHAHAT THEHEHEHEHERE!"
Alastor chuckled devilishly. "Why Vox, you should know better! Everyone knows that saying "not there" only makes the attack want to exploit that spot even more." He hummed, mockingly pretending to think. "Perhaps you DID know, and you're just enjoying this so much you want me to keep going? Is that it?"
The other overlord let out a startled squeal at the feeling of something fiddling with his antenna; when had ANOTHER tentacle popped up?!
Vox face felt like it was on fire from the teasing, his laughter pitching up with flustered desperation. "SHUHUHUHUT THE FUHUHUHUHUHUHUCK UP! THAHAHAHAT'S NOHOHOHOHOT TRUE!" He denied vehemently, knees starting to go weak. After a moment, his legs gave out, but instead of slumping to the floor, Vox found himself being held up by Alastor's sentient shadow. The creature's grin widened, becoming downright feral as it let out an amused cackle at his plight.
"Whatever you say, old pal! Now, if you REALLY want this to stop, you will agree to keep what you discovered today between us alone." Alastor rested his chin on Vox's shoulder, the touch shooting a bigger shock through his nervous system than any tickling ever could. "Do we have a deal?"
Vox's processor was racing a thousand miles a minute. Fuck, why was this actually fucking fun?! What was wrong with him?! He knew he should have hated it; the powerlessness, the teasing, the terror of being so utterly defenseless in front of his greatest rival. Yet...he didn't hate it, a fact he found more flustering than any tease Alastor could have pulled out of his ass.
No, Vox did NOT want it to stop.
Still, if Vox DIDN'T give in, it would only confirm the assumption deer demon had so accurately deduced, and he wasn't sure his heart would be able to take the cruel, crooning teases Alastor would no doubt come up with upon such a revelation. When weighing the humiliation of yielding to Alastor to the humiliation of admitting that he was ENJOYING getting tickled to the brink of his sanity, Vox would take the former any day.
"FIHIHIHIHINE, HOHOHOHOHOLY SHIHIHIHIHIT! DEAL, DEHEHEHEHEEEEAL!" He screeched, a little wheeze slipping out as one of the tentacles tugged on his sensitive antenna. "JUHUHUST STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP, YOU BAHAHAHAHASTARD!"
As soon as those words were uttered, all touch disappeared, and Alastor reappeared a few feet in front of Vox. The overlord collapsed against his surveillance console, panting as his fans worked overtime to cool his body down. He shook with residual titters, his sharp-toothed grin nearly slipping his screen in two.
"There, was that so hard?" Alastor purred, sharing a smug grin with his shadow. "Now, I expect you to hold to our deal, otherwise I will have to take this little audio recording and make it the center of my next broadcast!" The deer demon twirled his cane, gazing at it and humming as Vox's eyes shot open.
"What now?"
Alastor scoffed. "Oh, please! Did you really think I would take you on your word alone that you would stay silent? I knew you would not make a soul deal with me over it, so I took matters into my own hands." The other sinner explained. "See, my microphone was recording our little interaction the whole time, minus the parts about my own...shortcomings. Think of it as insurance; it will not be released to the public as long as you behave yourself!"
Vox's face exploded into a bright blush blush. "Wait, that wasn't part of the fucking-"
"Oops, I'm afraid I have another engagement to attend to! Until we meet again!" Alastor cut him off, melting back into the shadows and disappearing from sight before Vox could finish his sentence. The TV host growled, flopping into his chair. His claws dug into the armrests, slicing into the slight padding. That prick! He couldn't just-
The overlord sighed in defeat after a moment, eyes closing as his breathing slowly returned to normal and his fans kicked off. He could still feel those claws scratching at his ribs, setting his nervous system alight with ticklish fire. He could still hear that voice, singing those awful, teasing words into his ear. He could still feel his limbs strain against the tentacle's hold, preventing him from squirming away no matter how hard he tried. Vox swallowed, feeling his blush returning full force.
He might have a different daydream to worry about now...
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souliebird · 3 months
Text
[[and then I met you || ch. 11]]
Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit
Summary:
A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.
pt: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10
Words: 4.3k
banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen
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You are folding laundry when Minnie gets up and starts waddling towards you, dragging Scooby behind her. You tell yourself you cannot be jealous of a stuffed animal, but Pig was what you gave her in the hospital, and you want him to be the favorite. But Scooby is really soft, so you'll admit defeat.
She comes up to your bed and climbs up. She crawls to the middle, then sits, laying Scooby beside her, “Hi, Mommy.”
You smile down at her, curious what type of visit this will be, “Hi, sweetie.”
She grabs one of her shirts from the pile of clothes and begins to try and fold it, making you huff in laughter. You let her help because she is making it into a square and that's all you really need. She purses her lips and you wait for whatever question you know is coming.
“Where is your Mommy?”
That slams into you in a way you do not expect and you have to clear your throat before answering, “Mommy’s…mommy and um…daddy, your grandparents, aren't alive anymore. They died a long time ago.”
Minnie takes this in, lips still pursed. She grabs another shirt and starts to fold it carefully. You wonder where this is coming from - you knew it would come eventually but you are curious about the trigger. But you aren't going to push. You want her to be able to come to you with these and any questions.
After about a minute, she gets up and crawls to you, reaching out to be held. You quickly scoop her up.
“Did my Daddy die, too?” 
Oh, this is it then. You've practiced this speech in your head a million times, you just didn't think it would be so soon.
You turn so you can sit on the bed and set your daughter on your lap, tucking some hair behind her ear as you speak, “No, he didn't die. I just lost him for a little while.”
Minnie screws up her nose and you don't know if it's from confusion or from judgment, “you lost him?”
You nod, offering her a soft sad smile, “I lost him. You know how sometimes, when we go to the park, you meet other kids and spend all day playing together, but then you don't see them again for a long time?” She nods and you continue on, “You just lost them for a bit. They aren't gone - you just don't know where they are and eventually, they will find their way back to you. That is what happened to your Daddy and I. We were at the same place and became friends, but then we lost each other.”
Mouse puts her fist into her mouth, and you know she's thinking hard. You hope she understands. You've read so many different forums and articles on the subject and just want to tell your daughter the truth in a way she computes. 
Finally, she looks up at you, dragging her fingers out of her mouth and letting them fall into her lap, “did you find him?” 
Your lips twitch into a smile and you nod. Her eyes get wider, and she practically begins to vibrate with excitement. You begin to gently rub her back, wanting her to feel all of your love, “I did. I found your Daddy. Do you want to know who it is?”
“Mister Matt?” Her voice is so hopeful that your heart swells to the point you can feel it in your throat. 
You nod, your cheeks beginning to hurt from your smiling, “Mister Matt.”
She throws her arms around your neck and squeezes you so tightly that for a moment you can't breathe. You hug her back, rocking her in your arms. You never expected to have this conversation like this - you've not really had discussions about family with her yet, but you suppose that doesn't matter now. Your daughter knows the truth and you can feel her smiling against your neck. Tears of joy are gathering in the corners of your eyes, and you fight to keep them from escaping. 
You don't know how long you stay there, holding and rocking Mouse, but eventually she pulls back to look you in the face, “does Mister Matt wanna be my Daddy?”
You cup her face and bring her close to start peppering kisses all over, “Yes, yes, he does. He wants to be your Daddy very much. Do you want him to be your Daddy?”
She nods enthusiastically, “I want him to be my Daddy! Please thank you!”
You pull her into a tight hug again and she dissolves into giggles. You don't know if she fully understands but you know this is the first step in her getting it, and you want it to be a good moment. You kiss her forehead, then decide this is a good opportunity to practice talking about feelings.
“How does Mister Matt being your Daddy make you feel?”
She stays nestled against you. You let her think and after a few moments, she whispers, like it's a secret between the two of you, “it makes me happy.”
“It makes you happy?” You confirm. 
She nods, before adding, “He has a happy heart. We make him happy. He makes you happy.”
You take in her observation and realize it's true. You find yourself smiling more when you are around Matt - mostly from watching him and Minnie interact. They are the sweetest pair. And you don't need Minnie or Matt's hearing to know how happy Matt is to be around Minnie. His entire being screams it. 
“He does make me happy,” you agree. “And it makes me happy he is your Daddy. And hey, Mouse. Look at me?” She pulls back and looks at you with wide eyes and you make sure you hold eye contact, “Our next Big Girl Talk will be about how things will change now that you have a Daddy, okay?” She nods eagerly, a serious look coming across her face. Telling her in advance about what you will be talking about helps with her comprehending it is a serious topic. 
You take a moment to look her over, noting in all the ways she looks like her father before leaning in to kiss her cheek again. “I love you, Mouse.”
“I love you, too, Mommy,” she replies, all smiles and sunshine. She mimics you by placing a sloppy kiss on your cheek with a big ‘mwah’ added for good measure, then she hugs herself to you again. You wrap her up in your arms, content to just hold her. It doesn't last long - she's still a wiggly toddler and she eventually wiggles away from you. She crawls back onto the bed, grabbing Scooby before dramatically flopping over.
“Can we has pizza for lunch?” 
You guess life changing news time is over now and you are back to your regularly scheduled day. You hum at her question, thinking pizza sounds perfect for lunch. “Do you want to make it or do you want to go by Tiny’s?”
“Make it!” 
You laugh and your wallet thanks your daughter's desire to make things from scratch. Luckily for you, you already have pre-made pizza dough. You just have to add toppings and bake it. 
“Okay, we can make pizza for lunch,” you tell Minnie, and she responds by making Scooby cheer, pushing his arms up into the air and waving them around. You smile at her excitement; glad everything is going so well. You know this would not be as easy if Minnie didn't absolutely adore Matt. You can't imagine how things would have gone if she started asking these questions months ago. 
You pull yourself away from your thoughts to focus back on folding laundry. Mouse rolls back up into sitting and snatches up something from the pile to help you. It takes her a full thirty seconds before she dives into make pretend and you both work as she narrates your adventures of tidying up before the big princess ball.
-----
You check in with Matt to make sure you are disrupting anything before you and Mouse start towards his office. Your sweet little girl wanted to bring her new Daddy lunch and Matt had not said no to the offer of homemade pizza. You hadn't hinted that the truth had been revealed to Minnie - you kind of want it to be a surprise for him and you want to be able to see his reaction in person. 
Your daughter is undeniably excited. She's swinging her arms as you walk, and every other step is a bounce. You are trying your hardest to not laugh at her antics and she has picked up on that and it has become a game. When you pause at the crosswalk, you look down and she sticks her tongue out at you. When you return the gesture, she gasps, then squeals with joy. You wrinkle up your nose at her, pulling a funny face to keep up the positive energy. 
She bunny hops across the street and keeps at it until you are in front of the building holding Nelson, Murdock, and Page. She seems to recognize she's been here before, pausing to look up at the building before hurrying up the stairs. You follow her inside and she keeps a hold of your hand as you go up to the right floor. 
This time, you let her knock on the door - you don't want to walk in on anything awkward again - and a moment later, it swings open to reveal Karen. Mouse practically teleports behind you, obviously not expecting someone other than Matt to answer. The blonde smiles warmly at you, a twinkle in her eye.
“Pizza delivery?” you say, hoping it will lighten the mood and Minnie will be less afraid of the woman in front of her. 
Karen steps aside with a laugh and you usher Mouse inside, “I heard it was homemade.”
You flush over the idea of Matt talking about you to his friends, but you had offered to bring his law partners lunch as well. “Uh, yes. It's just cheese, nothing fancy,” you tell her, hoping to not get her hopes up over it being fantastic pizza. Cooking for yourself and a toddler is far different from cooking for adults, and you are suddenly very aware of how high their expectations may be.
“No one in their right mind complains about pizza, let alone homemade pizza,” a voice says from your left and you turn to see Foggy and Matt in the conference room, both sitting at the table and gathering up remnants of their work. 
“Your cooking is amazing, don't sell yourself short,” Matt adds, his smile causing your heart to pound in your chest. The praise makes you a little dizzy and you tell yourself to stop acting like a school girl - he's probably just being polite. 
“He lorded that lasa-”
Foggy’s joking is cut off by the sudden pitter-patter of feet and the absolute toddler screech of, “DADDY!” 
Minnie is halfway to Matt before you even realize she's left your side. You hurry after her, Karen right behind you, and you make it in time to see Mouse crash right into Matt's legs. He looks completely dumbfounded - eyes wide behind his red lenses and lips parted in surprise - and your daughter uses his shocked state to scale him. She throws her arms around his neck and hugs him as tight as her little body will allow.
Matt returns the hug with just as much force once he realizes what's going on, burying his face into her hair. His shoulders start to shake, and you can just barely hear him confirm for her, “Yeah, baby. I'm your Daddy. I'm your Daddy.”
You can't help but let the tears fall this time, covering your mouth so you don't disturb the sweet moment. Movement in the corner of your eyes lets you know Karen is also covering her mouth and crying. You are pretty sure Mouse is the only one not crying. 
Your little one can only stand being crushed for so long and she pulls away from Matt but stays standing on his lap. She places her hands on his cheeks and you don't know if she's trying to keep balance or mimicking a gesture you frequently do with her. 
You can see Matt's tears from across the room and your heart twists. How long has he wanted this? How long have you wanted this? You want to hold them both and never let go - just so you can keep this feeling of overwhelming love forever.
Minnie breaks the symphony of sniffles, declaring, “Mommy said she lost you.”
Matt gives a wet laugh, his smile so bright and full of adoration for his daughter, “she did? She won't lose me again. I promise. I'm not going anywhere.”
You have to keep yourself from sobbing at his words. Too many emotions stir at his promise, and you have to remind yourself he's talking to Minnie and not you. As much as you want to hear the words yourself, to have someone say they'll never leave you - you know it isn't in the cards for you. You wrap your arms around yourself and watch Minnie search Matt's face.
She pats his cheeks with both hands, telling her father in a serious tone, “you have to stay close. Or Mommy will put you on a leash.”
It takes a moment for you to realize she's referring to her tethered backpack, but the damage is already done.
“You don't want her to put you on a leash, do you Matt?” Foggy asks, not missing a beat and not at all sounding like a crying mess despite being one.
Karen lets out a scandalized “Foggy!” while you bury your face into your hands, wishing the floor would swallow you up.
Matt doesn't even get to respond to the tease - Minnie whips her head around and her eyes get wide as she seems to realize other people are in the room. You can see the wheels turning in her mind before she crashes herself back into Matt's arms with a giggle, “Froggy!”
Matt doesn't seem to mind being used as a jungle gym and wraps himself around Minnie to hold her close. He kisses the top of her head and chokes out, “Yeah, that's Foggy, and that over there is Karen. Do you remember - I told you about them?” Your little one hides her face against his neck with a nod. You see her jaw move as she mumbles something to Matt, but you are too far away to hear but whatever it is, Matt gives a pleased laugh, “Yeah, his hair is too short to braid.”
Foggy scoffs at this reveal, “That is nonsense. My hair is long enough to braid!” He looks at you and Karen for confirmation, “Is my hair long enough to braid?”
“I mean,” Karen says, wiping away her tears with a smile, “They'd be pretty small. It would certainly be a fashion choice.”
“It's longer than Matt's hair,” he argues, a pout forming on his lips - but you can tell it's playful. 
Minnie peeks away from the crook of her father's neck to peer at Foggy. She eyes him before declaring, “Too short!”
“Looks like you've been overruled, Fog,” Matt says, resting his cheek against the top of Minnie’s head, happy to let her hide against him. He's stopped crying, but his voice is still a little wet. “You’ll have to go with another style.”
“Liberty spikes?” Your mouth offers before your brain catches up. 
Foggy and Karen both look at you and you fear they think you are insane. The familiar pounding starts in your chest and your mouth feels dry, but before panic can see in, Foggy shakes his head, throwing his arms up as he speaks.
“Do you know how much product those need? It's like a can of Got2B per day and I promised myself ‘never again’.” 
“When did you have liberty spikes?” Karen asks. She moves to sit at the table with Matt and Foggy and you quickly follow, not wanting to be the only one standing.
“High school was a weird and wonderful time,” is the reply and you try to picture this sweet friendly lawyer with a punk aesthetic. It doesn't really work, but the image makes you smile. 
“Daddy can do puffs,” Minnie mumbles across the table to Foggy and you are proud of her for being so brave, “and Mommy…. Mommy makes Moon Buns. She can make you extra pretty.”
Foggy grins at you, waggling his eyebrows, “Well, if she can make me extra pretty…”
Karen swats at Foggy's arm, “how about you keep your hair as it is - we don't need Marci coming after us.”
“Please, she appreciates my daring sense of fashion,” he scoffs.
Matt hums, then stage whispers to Minnie, “Mouse, can you tell Daddy what Foggy is wearing?”
Minnie turns slowly to look at the man in question. Her fist goes up to her mouth and she leans heavily into Matt as she examines him. The blonde man stands up and takes a few steps back, so his outfit is on full view. He even does a slow spin.
“He looks like Barbar,” she decides, and you snort with laughter because you one hundred percent see it. He's in a gray three-piece suit but his tie is a dark green. 
“I…I don't know who that is,” Foggy says, a somewhat panicked look on his face. He turns to you, “What does that mean? Is that a good thing or have I just been roasted by a toddler?”
“The elephant?” Matt questions, brows knitting together behind his glasses. You wonder if he read the books when he was a kid, before he lost his eyesight, or if he's been doing his research.
“He wears a three-piece suit,” you clarify, letting yourself start to relax as conversation flows. “He's very fancy.”
“Aren't those books banned?” Karen asks. She doesn't sound judgmental - just like she's clarifying the reference. 
You shrug and smile towards your daughter, “they made a new show a few years ago.” 
“I still don't know if this is a good thing.”
“You look…handsomes,” Minnie mumbles before turning back to tuck herself under Matt's chin. You read her body language easily - she isn't scared or upset at the interaction. She's just shy. You can see her hidden little smile.
“Oh, you are so his kid,” Foggy whispers, “That was smooth.”
You feel your cheeks heat up and you look down at your lap. Matt certainly is smooth. It is like he can't help himself, as far as you have seen. He's just naturally charming - and your daughter is sweet as can be. You are a lot more clumsy.
The man beside you chuckles and out of the corner of your eye you see him rub Minnie’s arms. With a slight cockiness in his voice, he asks, “Mouse, can you tell Daddy what Foggy had for breakfast?”
You can feel the shift in the air - Karen's interest in your daughter's assessment is practically vibrating off her.
You suck your bottom lip between your teeth, your anxiety spiking at the question. You trust Matt, but you don't know these people. You've only just learned what your daughter can do and already it is being shared.
But, you have no doubts about your daughter’s ability to answer the question. Matt had spent his entire day off playing ‘what's that smell?’ and ‘what's that sound?’ with Mouse and she just wanted to show off for him. Plus, she just likes to answer questions.
Still, she stays against his chest and for a moment you are worried she might just be too shy to answer, but then she starts to whisper.
“Froggy ate a banana. And coffees.”
Matt nuzzles into her hair with a smile, looking proud as can be, “Anything else?”
Your little one sways back and forth, clearly thinking over the question. Her little fist stays against her mouth as she adds, “Cookies.”
She gets a little chuckle from her father, and he kisses her hair before explaining, “That's close. When there are cookies and banana smells for breakfast, that usually means a banana muffin.” He tilts his head towards his best friend, “Right, Fog?”
Foggy nods as he sits down, pulling a face as he does, “Right, a banana nut muffin and coffee. I'm so glad there are two of you to know that now. You are going to give me a complex.”
You can see Minnie screw up her face in thought, then she turns around in Matt's arms to properly look at Foggy again. 
“Froggies can't have people food,” she advises. “Froggies eat bugs.”
“I'm not…my name is Foggy, not Froggy. I'm a people.”
You wonder how many times this will happen and decide that while the back and forth happens, you should start setting up lunch. From your purse, you start to pull out the tupperware containing pizza.
“Froggy.”
“Foggy. Fog-gy. Not Froggy. Buddy, help me out here.”
“This is out of my control,” Matt hums. He looks like he is having the time of his life and his smile is infectious. You look up to see Foggy looking at you, silently pleading, but you can tell it's all an act. If it was actually bothering him, you would correct Minnie. 
Instead, you simply add, “Ribbit ribbit.” 
There's a dramatic groan of “but I don't even like flies!”
“Froggy! Frog!” is Mouse’s adamant response. You are grateful Matt's friends want to engage with your daughter instead of just ignoring her. You know he thinks of them as his family, and you want a good relationship with them.
“I don't know, I think I like Froggy. It's better than Franklin,” Karen says with amusement in her eye. She leans forward and asks Minnie, “Did you bring a bug pizza for him?”
Minnie shakes her head, eyes going big at the idea of a bug pizza. 
“Okay, if I am a frog, what is she?” Foggy asks, accepting his fate as he points at Karen. 
All eyes turn to her, and the blonde woman straightens up and smiles brightly at your daughter. 
“A princess,” Minnie decides after a brief examination, “of Froggyland. Princess of Froggyland.” 
Karen absolutely grins at the assessment while the newly assigned amphibian looks scandalized. “The Princess of Froggyland? She rules over me? I reject the monarchy - I'm staging a rebellion.”
“Long live the Queen,” Matt teases and both you and Minnie laugh. 
“Excuse you, I'm a princess, not a queen. Yet.”
“Who rules over Froggyland?” You ask Minnie as you pass out the pizza. You get a chorus of ‘thank you’s as your daughter considers her options.
“Jimmy Cricket,” is the final decree. 
“A bug rules over Froggyland?”
“I mean, the physical embodiment of a good conscience would be a good king, right?” Matt theorizes. 
“All kings are unethical,” counters his law partner and Karen must sense a debate coming, as she puts her foot down.
“No politics while eating.”
“I didn't start this, your highness,” Foggy playfully bickers. As they start going back and forth again, you look over to the pair beside you.
Matt helps Minnie sit down in his lap and once she is secure, he goes to open his pizza. He's ducked his head so he can whisper to her as he does - you can see his lips moving but once again, you can't hear the words. You wonder if it is about the food, but part of you honestly doesn't care what it is. You are just happy that all of this is happening. 
You are happy your daughter knows the truth about who her father is and that she seems excited over it. You are happy you get to see them bond and you are happy to see Minnie be so social. You can already see the hints that this dramatic life change is going to be good for her, and that doesn't even include the new information you learned about her senses.
You scoot your chair a little closer to Matt's, preparing to bring Minnie over to your lap so he can eat. Before you can reach for her, Matt places his hand on your knee. You try to not turn into a blushing mess as he starts to rub little circles with his thumb - this isn't what you intended to happen and it's far too embarrassing to push his hand away.
Not that you want to push it away. The touch is awkward on your end, but only because you are so unused to being touched. It isn't unwanted. In fact, it's a little comforting, even though it is sending all sorts of mixed signals to your brain, heart, and cunt. You try to ignore the latter - those thoughts have no place in this moment. 
At least that is what you tell yourself until Matt turns his head towards you and gives you the softest smile. Your brain, heart, and cunt all clench before doing all sorts of flips inside of you. He mouths ‘thank you’ to you and the only thing you can think to do is wrap your hand around his and squeeze. He turns his palm up and laces your fingers together and it does nothing to soothe your pounding heart, but you don't think you mind. 
You squeeze his hand again and your entire being explodes with love when Minnie realizes Matt is looking at you and turns her head to beam up at you.
“Love you, Mommy.”
“Love you, too, baby.”
She tilts her head back so she can see Matt and in the softest voice says, “Love you, Daddy.”
You're pretty sure Matt starts crying again as he responds, “I love you, too, Minnie. I love you so so much.”
tags:
dnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife 
 @petrovafire39 @allllium
@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt
@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374
@theclassicvinyldragon @aoi-targaryen @lunaticgurly @nikitawolfxo @shireentapestry @snakevyro @yondiii @echos-muses @honeybug-victoria @the-bisaster @ristare @mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @hunnybelha @
Specialagentjackbauer @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets 
@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt  @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium 
@
two-unbeatable-beaters @kiwwia-wiwwia @1988-fiend @xblueriddlex @loves0phelia @ninacotte @lovelyygirl8 @littlenosoul @ednaaa-04  @ astridstark13
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cringe-but-proud · 3 months
Note
Hi! You must’ve JUST posted while I was searching a tag! WELCOME to the crowd of other amateur writers who have no idea what we’re doing!
I have a request for a short fanfic/drabble! Wonka 2023 where fem!reader is a storyteller who worked in the laundry room when Willy arrives. Reader is closer with Noodle and usually tells her bedtime stories before going to sleep, and Willy comes to admire the vast imagination in the stories while falling in love, to Noodle’s joy. I haven’t had the motivation to write in a long time, so I hope you’d be up to trying to get the story out of my head!
Hi! Thanks sm for the request. Hope I could do your idea justice lol
Willy Wonka x Storyteller!Fem!Reader (Wonka 2023)
Warnings: None, I think. Sort of just a cute fluffy one.
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Three years ago, you made the worst and most unforgivable mistake of your life: Taking a shower at Ms. Scrubbit's hotel.
To make a fairly short story shorter, you neglected to read the small print, leading to you being in a massive debt to her. So, for the next 5 years of your life, you'd be forced to work in a dirty, old laundry room.
You were absolutely miserable at first. Your days dragged by and your nights were mostly spent curled up in your bed crying. But, once you accepted your situation, you found a way to make the days go by faster: Making up stories in your head while you worked.
You'd always had quite the creative mind; so, weaving tales of magic and wonder was a fun way to spend your time.
Plus, Noodle always liked to hear your stories before she went to sleep.
But, recently you'd earned another fan of your stories.
Willy was the newest person who was unfortunate enough to end up down here. And lately he'd started sitting at the desk in Noodle's room every night, tinkering with new chocolate recipes or practicing his reading and writing skills, while you told Noodle a bedtime story.
But, according to noodle, he was actually in there just to listen to you. Supposedly, the moment you left, he'd turn to noodle and the two would discuss whatever story you'd told that night.
If that was true, you were honored.
One night, Noodle and Willy snuck out of the laundry room to do who knows what. And a couple hours later, Noodle returned without Willy. She told you all about the adventure they had which apparently included milking a giraffe, flamingos, and a run in with the police.
Her recount of the night was entertaining, and you were glad she's had fun. But, you couldn't help but feel a bit worried for Willy. "So, what's gonna happen to Willy?" You asked. "Is he getting arrested?"
Noodle shook her head. "He told me he'd talk his way out of it." She said as she got into bed. She tilted her head at you. "Do you like him?"
"What?" You flushed.
"Like, do you wanna be his girlfriend?"
"I-" You were about to say no, but that wasn't entirely true. You admired him. He had a brilliant mind, and he was unbelievably handsome. "Okay, how about I tell you a story?"
"So, you do wanna be his girlfriend."
"Story is beginning now."
Later in the night, you were in your own room, about to settle in for bed when someone knocked at your door.
You furrowed your brows in confusion, getting up to open the door for whoever it was.
"Hey." Willy greeted. "Sorry if I woke you up." His hair looked wet which was strange, but you were more concerned with why he was at your door.
"Don't worry, I wasn't asleep. Are you okay?"
"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. I was just wondering if... Uh, did you tell Noodle a story while I was gone?"
You nodded. "I did."
He seemed a little disheartened, which made you feel bad. "I'm sure noodle can retell you the story tomorrow." You offered, trying to lighten his mood.
"She could. But, the way you... I mean... You have a wonderful, imaginative, beautiful mind. And the way you tell your stories, it's amazing! You could read me a grocery list, and I'd be on the edge of my seat." He gushed.
You couldn't help but blush. "You think all of that?"
"Yes! How could I not?" He gave you an affectionate smile.
You returned him smile. "I mean... I could tell the story to you right now, if you want."
Willy thought about it. "It's alright. I think I can go without a story for one night." He said reassuringly.
"You sure?"
"Yeah. Thanks for the offer, though."
He began to step away from your door, saying a quick goodnight before he began walking toward his room.
"Wait, Willy." He stopped and turned to you.
You walked up to him and kissed his cheek. Willy blushed. "What was that for?"
You shrugged. "To make up for the story you missed out on?" You offered.
Willy smiled and gave you a quick peck on the lips.
"What was that for?" You asked this time.
"Just cause I like you." He replied as he leaned in to kiss you again.
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dulcewrites · 1 year
Text
Fool Me Once (part 3)
Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x reader (wc: 3.1k)
Summary: With the birth of your child looming, you and Aemond finally lay your cards on the table. A growing problem reaches a boiling point.
Warnings: more lying/manipulation (y’all know the drill by now), Aemond once again gaslighting, mentions of s*icide
A/N: it’s been such a fun time writing this. It is definitely different from most things I’ve written, so it have been a nice change. I’ve gotten so much support from it and I hope to keep making stuff you guys like. Also slight disclaimer that the way I write Alys is not really way I read her in the book. Much like Aemond in this. They both kind of suck lmao. I wanted this to be the last part but then I thought of more things so… we shall see how this goes 👍🏽. I wanted this chapter to be a build up to events in ep 8-10 mainly 9 and 10 of the show.
Fmo masterlist
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You can’t remember the last time Aemond and you have had dinner, just the two of you. So, when he insisted you that you two do, you had a feeling it was about the talk Queen Alicent said she wanted to have with him. A private dinner with your husband would have been a dream moons ago.
Alicent did not make you privy to what they discussed. It only made you more weary. You know she is hurt and upset. But you also know she is more hurt that the son she propped up so much turned out to be just as unreliable as the man she made him with.
That is the painful part about love; the only place to go is down.
Nevertheless, his suffering is what you want; it does not matter if the ire stems from a place on genuine care for you. The uncomfortable nature in which he moves the castle makes the pain you have suffered a little bearable. It sounds deranged, but if you are to be trapped, he should be as well. You want him to wake with the same lump in his throat you do.
The letters had stopped. A constantly stream of communication abruptly ended. Lord Strong gave you a funny smile when he told you.
Ser Quinton rarely leaves your side when Aemond is around. He gave you a reluctant glance when you tell him about the dinner. While Aegon, already deep in his cups midday, tells you to keep a grip on your fervor.
The corridor was empty except for the two of you.
“I know how him and mother are,” he point his fingers at you emphatically. “They probably already concocted something to keep you quiet or make you look like the problem. Keep you…. Idle.”
Despite the slurring of his words, and clear bitterness towards the relationship Alicent and Aemond have, he may not be wrong. Alicent had already taken it upon herself to write to your father, suggesting he visits soon. She is proactive to a fault; her behavior simultaneously holding the Seven Kingdom together and enabling her family’s indecencies.
Everything can be hidden under the right tactics and false goodwill. You want to say she got that trait from her father, but you know it comes from years of being a woman in the Red Keep. From being the Queen.
The dinner begins uneventful. You wrinkle your nose at the meat pie in front of you. A dish you normally like making your stomach churn. It is hard not to feel sick or uncomfortable these days. You’re huge; feet swollen and belly protruding to a remarkable degree. The sheer thought of how big the babe will be plagues your mind most days.
It is unbearable having to engage in meaningless small talk with Aemond. Like he is insulting your intelligence by tip toeing around everything.
“Are you going to tell me why you wanted this dinner,” you want nothing more to leave his chambers and go take a bath.
“I think we need to talk.”
You can’t help but scoff at him. Aemond looks even more haunting in the dark lighting of room. Like the brutal knights the septas used to make you read about. He has a nasty look in his eye, like he wants a fight. You wonder if his Alys gets this look or if it just reserved for you. One special thing for his wife.
Despite all the formal swordsman training, Aemond plays dirty in personal affairs. Much like a feral cat backed into a corner. You’ve seen it to many times with Aegon. The only thing he responds to is equally cruel jabs.
“Yes dear husband,” you sigh out of boredom, rolling your neck.
His next words take you by surprise.
“Daella told me she is not excited about her egg hatching,” he huffs out. You stop rolling your neck, and blink blankly at him. The two of your stare at each other before you bark out a laugh.
“That is what this is about? You are pouting because a child is no longer enraptured by an egg.”
“It is not only about the egg, and you know it,” a nasty tone to match the look he gives you. “You fill her head with assumptions. You debase something that is her birthright. Something that is the birthright of her father, and her ancestors.”
You roll your eyes. “Well, if I disparaged the great Targaryen legacy or dragons in front of her it must have been a… mistake.”
You swear you see Aemond’s eye twitch a little at the word.
“Have you ever thought maybe it is not the dragons themselves, but the person she most associates them with?”
Daella’s change in behavior was notable. She never wanted to go to the dragon pit with her father, the few times she does work up the nerve to go it is always with her aunt to see Dreamfyre. She is no longer enthused to learn High Valyrian despite how quickly she picks it up.
You did try to keep your child out things, but kids are perceptive. The way from a young age Alicent kids picked on her strife with their father, maybe she picked up on yours with Aemond.
Aemond’s anger radiates off him. Once the truth finally comes out, the words begin to spill from your lips.
“And do not pretend this is just about Daella. That is an insult to her, and a waste of my time,” you lean forward, and lower your voice. “This about you losing your favor around here, and this about her.”
There is an uncomfortable hush comes over the room. The only sound is the crackling coming from the fireplace.
“She was pregnant,” it comes out like whisper. The spite that was laced through his voice is gone. All is left is confusion.
Your vision blurred red. There’s a painful twinge in your stomach, and you wince.
“What do mean was.”
There was always the possibility this could happen. As naive as it sounds, it was not a thought till ironically Aegon of all people brought it up. If anyone would know about possibly fathering bastards it would be him. Then he promptly told you that the two of you could hop on Sunfyre and burn her to a crisp. The offer that you quickly refused in the moment has never sounded so tempting now.
“I-I do not know where she is,” Aemond admits curtly. “One day she is telling me she is with child, and the next she’s…gone.”
He looks so small; his eye has a faraway look in it. It’s utterly pathetic. You never considered that a greater pain to him would be not only to be seen differently by his family, but also have to reason why he did it leave.
“So what now Aemond? She left you, and you want to just erase everything you have done. Pretend you care or love me,” you say coldly.
“No. I do not lo-“
He stops mid sentence, and an empty smile appears on your face. Neither of you have said it out loud but it is the plain truth.
“Go ahead and say it,” there is a deep pressure in your stomach that won’t go away. The pain only makes you even more upset. “Love requires respect. It requires give and take. You surely do not respect me, and all you ever do is take.”
Another twinge hits the underside of your belly. You shift in your seat uncomfortably, eyeing the door.
“You are not completely innocent in this,” your eyes go wide at his remark. “Do not give me that look. I see the way Ser Quinton looks at you. And now Alys is…”
He trails off. It is the first time you have heard him say her name out loud. Another surge of jealously runs through you. She is gone, and you are once again stuck with the carcass. Expected to uphold your end of the bargain while he frets over a child and mother that never should have been around to begin with.
You refuse to sit and let him turn the tables around on you. It is a struggle, but you manage to get up from the table, but only to have him rise and block your way.
“For someone who has such clear distain for my house. You sure do not hide your fire well… just like a dragon.” His eye flutter down to the scar on your arm, then back to your eyes. You see the blame in his.
“If I was that rash, or temperamental, your head would have been on a spike. Along with your whore’s,” you narrow your eyes. “And I would have made Ser Quinton sully his white cloak, because he would for me. Hells, I would have had your brother while I was at it. It’s not like he has not tried before.”
You are not sure you even want Ser Quinton in that way, let alone Aegon. Ser Quinton devotion is not something you know if you are willing to take that level. And Aegon’s cock has been in half the maidservants in the castle and most of the whores in Flea Bottom. Him wanting you is not special, it’s just Aegon being Aegon. But the deep look of rage in Aemond’s eye makes the statement all the more worth it.
You skirt past him quickly towards the door. His heavy footsteps behind you. Ser Quinton leaning against the wall opposite of the door does not surprise you.
“Are you alright,” he rushes over, concerned when you pause to in the hall and lean over in pain. His hand coming to rub your back.
“Oh well is this not sweet,” Aemond’s bitter tone cuts through the empty hall. “I can handle it from here Ser Quinton.”
Blood rushes to your ears, and you can barely hear the hushed disagreement that begins between the two. Your painful groans becoming background fader to their pissing match.
A familiar snap happens in the lower part of your abdomen, and a pool of liquid flows out of you. Both cease arguing, and you and Aemond share a knowing look.
“The babe is coming.”
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Alaric Targaryen came into the world fast, and with a haughty disposition. As if he could tell the family dynamic he was coming into. His cries were piercing and sharp, matching the tears of relief you cried when he finally came out.
You had insisted to only have your lady in waiting and some septas in room, especially after the clear tension between Aemond and Quinton. Helaena and Alicent come in and out of the room sporadically, giving you words of encouragement and knowing glances at the pain you were in. Alicent had been shocked to see her son and Ser Quinton trying to get you back to chambers.
Lord Larys followed casually behind her. He gave that funny smile of his again. The smile he gives Queen Alicent when he thinks no one is watching… or maybe he hopes someone is watching.
She’s gone
Even while giving birth to your son, that woman plagued your thoughts. Aemond could be right; you two have more in common than you like. Bewitched by the same woman.
It took everything in you to look up when Aemond finally came into the room. Acknowledging his presence met remembering how he is half of Alaric. How so much of you belongs to Aemond. You live in his home, dress in his colors, your children will be in the history books as Targaryen’s. He will have ownership over your boy after calling him a mistake. No matter how much you try, you will be remembered as his wife.
If that fact did not make you sick enough. Alicent’s next words did the trick.
“Oh, he looks like how Aemond did when he was a babe.”
You look down at him in your arms. While Daella was a combination of Aemond and you, her brother is every bit of his father. Small tuff of straight blonde hair, lips town turned in a scowl. You did not know a babe could look so refined especially after just being born. The only resembles to yourself you see in his in his big glassy eyes looking up at you.
There’s an energy that gets sucked out you when Alicent hands him to Aemond. She sees the weary look on your face.
Opposed to the elation you felt after having Daella. Dread creeps in; dread that comes from a place of sadness and protectiveness. All you have is your children. Even with the bonds and alliances you may have made, only they are extensions of you. Daella, your sweet girl, a reminder of what could of been. You have Alaric, the flesh and blood reflection of what you have been through.
“Have you two thought of a name,” Alicent asks. Before Aemond, who is still looking down can answer, you beat him to it.
“Alaric. Ser Quinton told the sweetest story about a knight he admired as a child. I thought it would be fitting.”
Alicent’s brows raise but she does nothing but nod. “Handsome name for a handsome boy.”
Aemomd does not say anything about the name. He just quietly hums a melody when Alaric starts to fuss. He turns his back to you as he bounces him in his arms.
All you have is your children
All you have is your children
When you think about a sword to the throat. You don’t know which situation would be more satisfying. One to his or one to yours.
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“I am sure you were… relieved to hear about your problem being gone.”
You do not see Lord Larys again till weeks after Alaric is born. The day of a feast Alicent insisted you have to celebrate his birth. Your father and mother writing you that they can not wait to see their second grandchild.
While Daella was a fussy, energetic baby, all Aleric does is sleep and eat. He stares at you with curious eyes. Always taking in the scene around him. He lays sweetly crib next to your bed. After his birth, you were all but forced to move back into the one you shared with Aemond.
“Do you know what happened to her,” it’s been on your mind for since Aemond uttered those words.
Larys tilts his head to the side with a wry look. “You and I both know it is hard to place the whims of a difficult woman, especially a supposed magical one.”
You know he is not just talking about Alys.
She is out there, possibly with Targaryen blood in her and no one knows where is. It does not make any sense. Larys can read the skepticism all over your face.
“It is quite suspicious, witch or not. A bastard woman with no means or worth to her name, gone in an instant. And right after the truth comes out within the family. Right after the Queen and the Prince talk.”
He gives you no help, only more questions. Makes you more suspicious of those you have to call family. In this moment you hate the way he speaks in riddles. He never states things plainly till he is ready to. As if he expects you to do something before he can reveal anymore.
“But look on the bright side princess, your family will be back at court soon enough.”
Alaric begins to coo, as if he trying to tell you something.
“Well, thank you for your time, Lord Larys,” you give him a fake smile. “I should start getting ready.”
Your lady in waiting, Jayne, comes in once Larys finally leaves.
“I quite like this one princess,” she holds up a green and black dress. It is old dress of Alicent’s, one she gave you when you first married Aemond.
A flash of satiny purple in the back of you wardrobe catches your eye. A smile appears on your face. It may be a bit snug as you have two children since wearing it but it worth the try.
“I think I might want to try something a bit different Jayne.”
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Your father used to tell you that the strongest flowers grow even when there is little sun. In conjunction, your mother told you that flowers are meant to be admired. Prettiest ones will often be picked and disregarded when a new bloom happens. Wilting was never an option for you in their mind.
You are their lower. Planted, watered, and urged to grow. Even in the deep darkness that is King’s Landing. The darkness they said was critical to helping your house.
The looks you get when you walk into the Godswood, head high in your deep violet dress only spurs you on when in other times it would make you want to hide. Daella and Alaric both in darling lavender outfits. You three stand out against the various muted greens, blues, and greys amongst you. Except for the few specs of purple that you see on the side wooded area.
“My dear girl,” your father’s hug makes you want to cry. Seeing your parents put into perspective how young you feel… how young you are.
Already married, mother of two, and all you want is your parents to hug you and tell you everything will be ok. When your father pulls you to the side and asks you about the letter Queen Alicent sent him, you are surprised to hear what she put in it.
“She said you are having a hard time,” he runs his hand over your arm. “That it is affecting your marriage.”
It should not surprise you she failed to mention her son’s cheating. But the onus being placed on you only proves what you already felt. They will protect their own, so you must protect yours.
Before you can muster up an answer, an anxious looking maidservant comes over with Jayne in tow.
“My Lady, I am sorry to interrupt. I went back to grab Alaric’s sweater. I saw something you may want to see; it was left it your chambers.”
Your eyes go to a box Jayne is carrying.
You must hold back a scream when you open the box and see Alaric’s favorite blanket, the one always in his crib, soaked in blood.
You frantically look over to the opposite side of the garden, your mother happily holding Alaric, Daella by her side. You look over to catch Aemond and Alicent giving you a questioning looks from across the Godswood.
As your vision blurs, you notice box had a tripartite of pale blue, red, and green on it.
“Jayne, please go fetch me Lord Larys and Ser Quinton.”
All you have is your children
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Tag list: ok I’m sooo sorry to anyone who does not get a tag. I swear I am not ignoring you. I am only allowed to do 50 which is so annoying bc I want to tag everyone that was kind enough to support and ask. Also sometimes tumblr won’t let me tag certain people idk. If y’all know a better way please let me know, so I can try it ❤️❤️.
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sunvmars · 7 months
Text
sour | s.r. [2]
pairing: steve rogers x afab/fem reader
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↞ previous | next ↠
word count: 3.2k
warnings: swearing, brief mentions of abortion, pregnancy/pregnant reader- that's ab it
summary: you and steve discuss plans for the pregnancy, steve faces the consequences of his actions
a/n: oh boy have i got a little plot twist coming for y'all soon. also, the chapters will get longer as more of the story is revealed!
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“I’m pregnant, Steve.”
Steve's hold on you became a little tighter. He found himself unable to fully process the information you'd just dropped on him; you being pregnant wasn't something he had even considered. You stood still in his arms, allowing him time to process the news and awaiting any type of response from him. He took a deep breath, his mind racing with thoughts and emotions. The words kept repeating in his head; she’s pregnant, she's pregnant, she's…pregnant.
"Steve? Did you hear me?" you questioned, voice slightly muffled by how you were being pressed into his chest.
Only after hearing your voice again did he move. He released his grip on you and took a step back to look you in the eyes. His eyebrows furrowed, his expression containing a mix of disbelief and confusion. There was something else hidden below the surface of his gaze too- a deep-rooted concern. A concern not only for you but for the tiny little life growing inside of you too, the life both of you created.
"What..? I'm sorry, this is just, uhm, wow."
You cock an eyebrow up at him, "That's all you've got to say?"
When he doesn't respond, you scoff. His eyes search the room as he tries to avoid direct eye contact with you.
"Well, now that you've made this abnormally awkward, I think I'm gonna go home now," you chuckle, trying to hide your irritation, ''Since I'm having your baby, please feel free to call me when you've got something else to add, alright?"
He grabs your arm when you turn to leave, "Wait. I'm sorry, y/n. Come inside, please. We can talk in here.”
Reluctantly, you allowed Steve to guide you into the apartment. His grip on your arm stayed gentle but firm like he thought you were gonna turn and run away at any moment. Once fully inside, you noticed how everything seemed so familiar yet foreign at the same time. Most of the pictures were off the wall except for two.
One picture was one that Tony had taken at the beach a year ago. The photo was of you, Steve, and Bucky sitting in the sand. You were laying in Steve's lap with your head resting on his chest while playing rock, paper, scissors with Bucky for the last slice of Steve's birthday cake.
The other photo just had you and Steve on your first date. You'd made him take a picture with you in front of the movie theater you went to. It was the oldest theater in town and, at some point during the night, you made a joke about how the theater was the only thing as old as him in the city.
He'd rolled his eyes at the joke but found himself unable to contain a smile when he saw your face light up as you laughed. You were witty, and that was his favorite thing about you, even if he was on the butt end of the joke. As long as you still had that pretty smile on your face, he didn't care how many jokes you made about him.
The soft, white couch you'd picked out together when the two of you first moved in was still there too and so was your favorite vase. The vase was missing the flowers though- the flowers he'd come home with every Friday without fail. More often than not, the ones he bought the week before weren't even dead yet, but he'd buy you new ones anyways.
"Ma used to tell me that if someone buys you flowers and they don't die for a long time, that means they really love you. But it's unavoidable that they'll die eventually, right? So I figured that if I buy you new ones before the old ones die then you'll never get the chance to forget how much I love you," he explained, leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead.
"Right, but what if I forget anyway?" you joked with a smile.
And then he shrugged and gave you a peck on your nose, "Then it's a good thing I'll be right here to remind you, honey," he cooed.
You bit your tongue, forcing the lump in your throat to go back down upon remembering all of the moments you shared. This was your home until just a couple of months ago, and now it felt like you were standing in a shell of what used to be your safe space.
Steve led you to the living room, the last room you'd been in before he gave up on your future together. He gestured for you to take a seat and you plopped into your favorite recliner that didn't even seem like it'd been touched since you left. The tension in the room was palpable as he sat on the far end of the couch, the side farthest away from you.
"You scared I'm gonna bite you or something?" you joked, rubbing a hand over your aching stomach.
He gave a short-lived chuckle before speaking, "Listen, I'm sorry for my reaction," he began, his voice filled with sincerity, "I didn't expect this, and I'm sure you didn't either."
You nodded to show your understanding, "It's alright, this is a lot for both of us."
"What do you wanna do..?"
"Me?"
His brain blanks as he tries to think of whether or not he'd said something wrong.
"Yeah?" he finally says, almost saying it like a question.
"It's not just my decision, Steven. You get a say in this too."
"I do?"
You laugh a little at his confusion, "Yes. You do."
"I'm sorry, it's just that with everything that happened I... I'm trying to say that I'd understand if you didn't want me involved in this decision," he says, looking down at the floor to avoid your eyes.
"Steve, look at me," you begin, pausing until he looks back up at you, "I wouldn't leave this choice up to just me. Whatever decision we make has to work for both of us though."
He looks up at you with surprise etched all over his face, "Thank you, y/n. It's more than I deserve."
"Mhm, tell me about it," you sigh while still rubbing a hand soothingly over your stomach, trying to ease the nausea.
He's silent, avoiding the dreaded breakup conversation. Luckily enough, neither of you are ready to have that discussion yet. He claps his hands together in his lap quietly and clears his throat to get rid of the silence.
"Do you know how far along you are?"
"No, not yet. I have to find a doctor. I'll ask Tony to make the call for me tomorrow."
"So, what do you wanna do?" he asks again, emphasizing the 'you,' "Have you thought about...you know?"
"The alternative? Yeah, I thought about it for a bit, but I think I wanna keep it. I've only known about the little guy for less than an hour and I'm already attached."
What you said was true, you did think about every possible alternative from abortion to adoption; but at some point on the way here, you'd decided on keeping it. You feel a bit of hope when you look down at your stomach. You smile to yourself, momentarily forgetting all your troubles. Though your smile is quickly replaced with a frown when you remember the situation at hand. You look up to lock eyes with him, seeing he's clearly hesitating to respond.
"But if you don't want this, I can raise him or her alone. Y'know, move out of town or move a few states away to be closer to family so there are no unwanted run-ins. The whole nine yards," you say softly, wiping a stray tear off your cheek.
"Oh, y/n," he mumbles, "I'm sorry. I didn't want it to be like this- I didn't want any of this."
You take in his words, trying to make sense of them. You felt your heart beginning to break as he remained silent. How can he just give up so easily before it even gets hard? Not that you'd pressure him into raising a kid he didn't want, I mean you did give him the choice, but his words still come as a surprise.
"So, the whole nine yards it is then?"
"I'm sorry, y/n..."
“I need you to look at me and say it, please.”
Steve looked around the room, appearing as though he was about to cry. His eyes finally land on you and you swear there's bits of guilt and regret in them.
"I don't want this baby."
That was all you needed. Hearing him say the words to you only solidified that y/n l/n and Steve Rogers didn't stand another damn chance. You sniffled as you stood up, trying to conceal any glimpse of sadness he could possibly see in you. You make your way to the door and go to turn the handle only for him to start speaking and stop you in your tracks.
"Y/n. I'm sorry, okay? I wasn't expecting any of this. I don't know what I want yet."
"Of course you do, Steven, you just said it," you say with a fake smile as you turn to look at him, "I'm not upset with you for not wanting this, but I'm disappointed that you're not the man I thought you were. If you change your mind, you know where to find me, but decide soon because I won't let you be in and out of our lives."
With that, you leave and quietly shut the door behind you.
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The drive back to the tower is entirely too slow and painful. You slipped your shoes off once back inside the comfort of your room and made your way to the bathroom to run a bath. After sinking in the warm bubbles and water, you unlocked your phone to unblock Steve's number. You awaited a text as you bathed- a text that never came, that is. You felt a little silly for ever thinking he'd want this with you but brush the feeling off quickly as it makes you feel physically sick.
You dry off, slip into your favorite night clothes, then slip under your covers. After trying to fall asleep for four hours and either waking up after a few minutes or not being able to fall asleep at all, you text Bucky to see if he's awake. It's about 3 a.m., but he responds after only five minutes to tell you he's coming to your room. The fact that he knew you wanted him to come over without saying it had a smile spreading across your lips.
When he arrived, you hugged him tightly and let out a shaky breath you'd been holding. He pulled away from the hug and looked at you with a concerned expression painted on his face.
"What's wrong?" he asks, hands resting on your arms.
"I'm pregnant, Buck."
You laugh a little to hide the way your voice cracked but Bucky sees right through it. He frowns at the sight of you, taking in the dark bags under your eyes and your skin that was paler than your usual tone.
"Let's go sit down, yeah?" he smiles warmly.
The two of you sit on your bed in silence as you lay your head on his shoulder. You make small talk after a few minutes, Bucky mainly asking questions about what you plan to do and how you feel.
"I'm guessing you told Steve?" he inquires.
He feels you nod slowly against his shoulder and he takes it as a sign to continue.
"And how did he take it?"
You shrug before speaking, "It seemed like he wanted to be a part of it all at first...then he said he didn't want this, but then he said he wasn't sure."
"Huh," he sighs out of confusion, "You know I'm here for you though, right? Both of you are my best friends, no matter how stupid he's being."
"I know you are," you reply.
"I know it's early and all, but have you thought about if you want a girl or boy?" he asks cautiously, worried the topic might upset you, "If you keep it, that is," he quickly adds.
"Buck, can I be honest with you?"
"Of course."
"I went to Steve's to get his input, but I think I decided to keep it as soon as I found out about it. I hate Steve so much right now, but this baby is a piece of both of us. I can't bring myself to get rid of something so innocent just for being a part of him," you explain, "I know it's not that simple for other people, but I did want kids with him eventually. I'm not unhappy with the pregnancy, I'm unhappy with the circumstances. Boy or girl, I'll be overjoyed either way."
He smiles to himself briefly, "You've got the biggest heart, you know that? You'll be a wonderful mother, y/n, and I mean that."
As hard as he tries to come up with an explanation for his friend's odd behavior, he can't. He'd promised you that he wouldn't go digging for answers when you broke up, you'd told him you didn't care to know and that it wasn't his problem. You're his friend, so he respected that. But now? Now it wasn't just you that Steve was abandoning, which meant that now he had to have answers.
Your breathing slows after a little bit, a sign that he recognizes as you getting sleepy. Slowly, he lays down, cradling your body so that you lay down with him. He lets you rest your head on him as he strokes your hair back soothingly. He waits until he hears your soft snores to gently ease your head onto your pillow before getting off the bed. He'd decided that he was going to get answers, even if it was three-forty in the morning.
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Back at the apartment, Steve had only moved once to turn off the lights, pour a glass of alcohol, and sit in your recliner. He would never say it now but he hated being alone in the apartment without you. This wasn't his home, and it never was, not without you there with him. The space that used to be filled with your laughter and your love now felt void of anything other than cold. He sat in the dark, alone with his thoughts, as he did almost every night since you broke up.
His phone buzzed, startling him out of his thoughts. The timing of him getting a message was unusual given the late hour. He picked up the phone and saw it was from Bucky, he smiled softly in hopes that his friend would offer some sort of help. He was sadly mistaken.
Bucky: We need to talk.
Steve frowned at the cryptic message as he typed a response.
Steve: About what?
Bucky's reply was swift.
Bucky: You know exactly what.
A knock sounded at the door no more than ten minutes later. He sighed, mentally preparing himself for whatever talking to he was about to get.
"It's open," he called out.
The door opened to reveal Bucky. As he walked in, the light from outside lit up his face and allowed Steve to see his expression of concern and irritation. He closed the door behind him and then turned to face Steve.
"I'm starting to worry you're turning into a vampire or something, punk. Why are you sitting with all the lights off again? Haven't we had this talk before?" he questions, flipping the overhead light on, "Have you been crying again?"
Steve groans and rubs his wet eyes with his free hand, "No," he lies.
His eyes narrow in Bucky's direction as he walks towards where he's sitting. Steve then brings the drink up to his lips to take a sip only to have it yanked away.
"Buck-"
"Now this is new, is this alcohol?" Bucky asks, bringing the glass up to his nose only to recoil at the scent, "Steve, oh my God, What is in this?"
"Whiskey, tequila, a little bit of everything. Well, everything she left here."
Bucky looks away, desperately trying to contain a laugh, "You can't even get drunk. What are you doing? What's the end goal here?"
"The taste helps me forget how big of an idiot I am," Steve confesses as he snatches his drink back, "It's like a punishment."
"Glad you know you're an idiot, it makes my job here easier."
"Did she send you over here," Steve asks, looking up at Bucky through his eyelashes.
"No, she didn't. But she told me what happened and I came here on my own," Bucky responds, "You know as well as I do that she can fight her own battles."
"Then why are you here?"
"To check on you. And like you said, you're an idiot. I'm here to figure out why you're being such an idiot, though. Whatever Steve you've been for the last four months isn't the Steve I know."
When he doesn't answer, Bucky continues talking, "I've let this go on for far too long. I should've asked when I noticed you were acting weird, but I chalked it up to how rough that last Hydra mission was. But this whole baby thing is the last straw, Steve. I've had to put up with your dumb decisions recently, I deserve an explanation. The woman carrying your child does more so, but we'll get to that."
Steve let out a heavy sigh and his shoulders slumped as he realized there was no escaping the conversation. Bucky had always been a straightforward friend. For as long as they knew each other, he was never one to beat around the bush, and he wasn't about to start letting Steve get away with stuff now.
"I don't even know where to start," Steve admits, his voice laced with frustration.
He takes another sip of his drink, hoping it might give him the kick he needs to explain himself. His face turns up at the taste and Bucky tries yet again to conceal a laugh.
"Okay, enough of that," he says, taking the drink back out of Steve's hands.
Bucky crosses his arms and sits on the end of the couch closest to Steve, giving him a stern look, "How about you try starting with why you decided to walk away from her? She's the best thing that ever happened to you, Steve, we both know that."
Steve winces at his words. He knew Bucky was right, as he usually was, but facing the same truth every day didn't make it hurt any less. It actually hurt worse since he knew that this entire situation was his fault.
"So?" Bucky says, urging Steve to speak.
Bucky instinctively brings the glass up to his lips and takes a sip. His expression turns from understanding to disgust as he spits the drink back into the cup.
Steve chuckles under his breath, "Habit?"
"Think it was the feeling of the cup in my hand, not sure why I did that. Guess old habits do die hard," Bucky explains, "Anyways, get to the explaining."
"I... I don't know, Buck. I messed up, bad."
"We already know that, care to elaborate?" Bucky prodded.
"It wasn't up to me, Buck," Steve sighs, speaking again when he sees Bucky's confused look, "Remember that Hydra mission you were just talking about?"
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