#but none of them could adjust their days by just a few hours to see me before I needed to leave

[avis-writeshq]

05 — enchanted

summary: “please don’t be in love with someone else”/“please don’t have somebody waiting on you.”  pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers, mutual pining, fluff, slow burn, no use of (Y/N) warnings: alcohol (reader gets drunk lmfao), jealousy, slight miscommunication, austin (aka: bartender girl from s4), special mention to special people wc: 4.9k a/n: everyone say thank you @astrophileous for beta-reading MWAH ilyvm zara <33 SPARKS FLY MASTERLIST // MAIN MASTERLIST

Although you haven’t been a part of the BAU for more than one year, it didn’t stop you from maintaining the connections that you had in all your years of working there. Sure, the scheduling times could be better, but that didn’t stop the team from spending their rare day off to spend time with you. After all, the adjustment of seeing you every day to once in a blue moon was a difficult one to make. 

O’Keefe’s has been the main victim of the team’s shenanigans, its doors open for the seven members of law enforcement, all eager to get their hands on some well earned rest and relaxation. Drinks are passed around the booth and you can’t help but laugh as you watch Derek get his ‘groove thang on’ with a few girls in the bar. Today is one of the rare occasions when the team didn’t have a case, an even rarer day when the team didn’t have to take on any new or incoming cases. 

“How’s life treating you?” Emily asks cheerfully, sipping at her strawberry daiquiri. You gather that tonight is one of those nights.

You smile, sipping at your own beverage of choice. “Good! Way less stressful than working at the BAU, that’s for sure. And the hours are good, too.”

JJ snorts from beside you. “Yeah, well, can’t say I’m not jealous. How’re the kids?”

“I can’t say much because of confidentiality and all that, but they’re doing well. A lot better, thank goodness but it just goes to show the aftermath of the things that you guys deal with. I mean, I still think about all the victims we’ve helped and it sucks that we can’t do anything to help them further.” You finish your tangent with a long sip of your drink before leaning back against the booth. “Anyway, how are you guys?”

Penelope comes shuffling past carrying a series of cocktails, her absolutely monstrous platform heels not aiding her in her slightly tipsy task. “Do not even get me started on work. No work! None! We’re having a fun day. Ergo, no work talk.”

You laugh in response, moving to the side to allow her room to sit in the booth. “No, Penny, you’re right. No work talk.”

The drinks are dispersed and your gaze shifts to where Spencer is standing, laughing awkwardly as he tries to follow along to Derek’s dancing and socialising. He looks incredibly out of place in his brown argyle sweater vest, navy tie and freshly pressed slacks, and he pulls at the collar of his shirt. 

“Nah, Spencer could definitely be a ladies’ man if he plays his cards right. And I mean that literally,” Emily says, bringing you out of your daydream.

Your head snaps in her direction, trying to calm your facial features and microexpressions. Regardless of your attempts, after a year of not practising, you don’t do as well as you hope. “What?”

JJ grins at you, her eyes lighting up knowingly. “We’re just talking about who’s the biggest hotshot in the BAU.”

“Wouldn’t that be David?” You ask meekly, your finger swirling along the edge of your glass. You had met David Rossi on occasion, once by accident when you were having a night out with the girls and the other during a proper introduction two weeks later. “Didn’t he have, like, five wives?”

“I had three thank you very much,” Rossi intervenes swiftly, holding his glass of whisky on ice. 

“Sorry, my bad,” you respond jokingly, snickering as he shakes his head and stalks over to where Hotch is sitting and drinking his rum. 

Penelope lets out a loud laugh. “I think we’re forgetting the obvious: our very own Chocolate Thunder.”

“Well, fine,” Emily drawls, waving a hand dismissively, “but Spencer has that innocent vibe to him, y’know? The kind of guy women go crazy over.”

JJ clicks her fingers in remembrance. “Didn’t a bunch of prostitutes try to pick him up in that one case?”

“What?” You ask again, albeit a little shrilly as you try to dismiss the surprise in your tone. 

“He didn’t take them,” Emily says quickly in an attempt to ease your discomfort. “But he did pick up a girl a few months ago. Austin?”

Penelope nods at that, putting down her cup. “Oooh, yes! I remember her. He showed me a picture. She’s pretty.”

“I mean, he did pick up Lila too.” JJ reminds the team, shooting you a sly smile. “You remember her, don’t you?”

You force out a laugh and bite the inside of your cheek in the process. “Yeah. Who’s Austin?”

“I think I still have a picture!” Penelope says, brandishing her phone from her coat pocket. She types something in before sliding it in your direction. “Pretty, right?”

Austin is certainly pretty, even in the uncoordinated selfie Penelope shows you of her and Spencer. He’s slightly out of frame, his lips set into a sweet smile while Austin practically glows. Her brilliant green eyes flash in the camera and her dark hair frames her face perfectly. She and Spencer are close in the photo, with him holding the phone clumsily and she has a hand on his arm. 

“Uh huh,” you murmur distractedly, averting your gaze from the photo as an ugly feeling creeps into your chest. “Really pretty.”

Emily looks at you curiously. “You didn’t know about her?”

You shrug in response, the smile on your face insincere. “There are a lot of things I don’t know about Spencer.”

The group exchange a couple glances at your tell-tale body language, watching as you scoot past Penelope and out of the booth, making your way to the bar. You’re all too grateful for a reprieve from the teasing as you order another drink and take a seat, resting your chin on the palm of your hand. Your mind goes through all the interactions you’ve had with Spencer over the years. Were you really that foolish to think that he would feel that way for you? Maybe you were reading too much into it, you try to reason, running your fingers through your once styled hair. Maybe, in some stupid and twisted way, all of Spencer’s interactions were platonic.

You scoff inwardly to yourself. Right. Because picking someone up at two o’clock in the morning is entirely platonic. Sleeping in the same bed as someone because of nightmares is totally normal between friends. In any case, you could have sworn that he–

“Trouble in paradise?” 

An unfamiliar voice nearly makes you jump out of your skin, and you turn to the man who takes a seat beside you. “Uh… something like that.”

The man hums, a smile on his handsome features. His dark brown hair is fluffy and, in its own charming little way, suits him. He reminds you a lot of Spencer, with the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles along with the timbre of his voice. He’s also very different to Spencer, especially with his sweater that has a bright orange pumpkin on it, paired with a matching orange scarf. A pair of red tinted sunglasses hang on the neckline of his sweater, and you doubt that it would do much good to block the sun.

“I’m Matthias,” he says good naturedly, beaming. “I’m with my sister, Laura,” he explains, gesturing to a lady sporting dyed auburn coloured hair, and she waves with a matching smile.

You introduce yourself, pointing to the booth. “My friends are over there.”

Matthias nods, undeterred by your company on the other side of the bar. “Let me buy you a drink.”

*** 

After what felt like hours of dancing (it was really only fifteen minutes), Spencer and Derek make their way to rejoin the group. The feeling of sweat matting his skin is one of many reasons as to why Spencer hates dancing. That, and the fact that there were far too many people on the dancefloor. What’s worse is the fact that he’s sure that none of them have ever heard of the word ‘deodorant’. He cringes at the thought of all the germs that could be festering on his skin as he sits at the booth, his eyes shifting to wear your bag lays haphazardly on the red cushions. 

“Where is she?” He asks instantly, turning to Emily and placing your bag so that it’s in a safer and less hazardous position.

She hums, pointing in the bar’s direction. “Getting a drink. She’s just cooling off.”

“Cooling off?” Spencer echoes, his brows furrowing. “What do you mean she’s ‘cooling off’?”

Penelope offers an apologetic smile, fiddling with the buttons on her coat. “We… might have told her about Austin?”

“You what?” Spencer can barely believe his ears as he looks at the group incredulously. “Why would you do that?”

“We didn’t mean anything bad by it,” JJ says hastily. “We didn’t think she’d react like that.”

“React like what?” Spencer’s voice is strangely stern, his eyes narrowing as he turns to the rest of the team. “I don’t like Austin. She’s nice but I don’t like her.”

Derek’s brows lift in surprise and confusion. “Did you go out with her after the case?”

Spencer’s ears burn in embarrassment and he turns to his friend in offence. “I asked her for help. I don’t like Austin like that. I needed advice.”

“Advice,” Emily repeats, turning in the direction of the bar. “You mean about…?”

Spencer doesn’t stay long enough to head the rest of Emily’s sentence or to answer it, making his way over to you are. Part of him wishes that he stayed put, especially when he sees what you’re doing. In an instant, his nose is scrunched up in distaste as he spies the random stranger chatting you up. His eyes lock with yours and he relishes in the way they light up as you wave him over.

“Hi,” he breathes, standing beside you. 

“Hi!” You gush, beaming at him. “Saw you on the dancefloor.”

“You’ll never see it again,” he says honestly, stealing a sip of your drink. It tastes like vodka and the strawberry lipgloss you use (he only know what it tastes like because of its very on the nose packaging: a giant strawberry. He wishes he knew for other reasons).

You laugh, bright and loud, before you gasp excitedly. “Oh, Spencer, this is Matthias! He’s been keeping me company.” Then, you lean closer to him, your voice a very exaggerated whisper as if the person you’re talking about isn’t in the seat next to you as you tell Spencer, “he’s a director.”

Matthias waves off the statement, chuckling along. “Nothing famous though.”

“He’s a liar,” you tell Spencer enthusiastically. “Did you know he went to New York University? Crazy, right? Like, the school of arts or something. Oh! And he’s also from Vegas! You two are so alike.”

Spencer nods half-heartedly as he tells you, “you know, I went to MIT and CalTech.”

“Well I know that, silly!” You say with a drunken laugh, poking at his cheek. You turn to Matthias with a proud grin before reaching for a shot. “Spencer’s a genius. He’s a super smart genius.”

“That’s what ‘genius’ means, angel,” Spencer reminds gently, prying the little cup away from you. “No more. You’re drunk and we don’t want a repeat of last time.”

Your face falls and your lips curl into a frown. “But Spencer I’m thirsty!”

“You have water in your bag,” he prompts, squeezing your shoulder and helping you off the barstool, not paying this Matthias person any mind. “Okay? Let’s go back to the others.”

You nod eagerly, stumbling a little as you wave goodbye. “Bye, Matthias!”

“Uh huh,” Spencer dismisses, leading you back to the table by the small of your back. He leans a little closer to murmur in your ear, “why did you leave the others?”

You shrug dismissively, leaning into his side. “Doesn’t matter.”

“No, angel, it does,” he says carefully, “tell me?”

You huff in your own clumsy drunken way. “You should ask Austin. Or go pick someone else up. Emily says you’re turning into a ‘ladies’ man’.”

Spencer resists the urge to roll his eyes. Of course. “I don’t like Austin,” he tells you in earnest, holding you close to his side as you stumble back to the booth. “I mean it, angel.”

“Bet you call everyone angel,” you grumble under your breath. “Bet you let everyone call you ‘Walter’ too.”

“No,” Spencer says immediately, a hand on your waist. “I only call you that. Besides, why would I let someone call me by my middle name if it isn’t you?”

You huff again, slumping in the booth as Penelope shuffles inward to give you more room. Your arms cross over your chest in annoyance and frustration and  you turn away from Spencer’s direction. He doesn’t need to be a profiler to know that you’re pissed off at him. Somewhere in your hazy drunk mind, you’ve made it out as him being the bad guy.

Spencer shoots the other girls a pointed glare, gesturing at you as if to say ‘This is your fault’ because, in reality, it is. If they didn’t mention Austin, you wouldn’t be mad at him. If they didn’t mention Austin, you wouldn’t have gotten yourself drunk with some random guy who went to New York University. Spencer mocks Matthias in his head. Stupid Matthias and his stupidly good hair. Spencer runs a hand through his own growing locks, grimacing when he realises that it reaches his shoulders now. Maybe he should get a haircut later.

“Angel,” Spencer tries again, kneeling down next to your chair. “Let’s get you home, alright? Please don’t be mad at me?”

You mutter something incoherent, not bothering to look in his direction.

“I’m not in love with Austin,” he tells you, his tone a mix of firmness and gentleness. “Really, I’m not. We’re just friends, angel, I promise.”

“Liar,” you mutter under your breath as you get out of the booth. JJ guiltily passes you your bag and you take it out of her hands as Spencer grips your arm with one hand, the other on the small of your back. 

“Not a lie,” Spencer says, walking you to his car. “I wouldn’t lie to you about this. Not after Lila.”

“Lie-la,” you say bitterly as you get into the passenger seat. “Stupid actress.”

He laughs at that, getting behind the wheel. “Yeah, angel. Stupid actress.”

“You kissed her in a pool,” you continue as you fumble drunkenly with the buckle of the seatbelt. “You don’t kiss me in the pool.”

Spencer’s cheeks burn at your words as he puts your seatbelt on, his fingers grazing yours. “It never came up. Besides, I hate pools, you know that.”

“Germ-y,” you respond knowingly, a silly giddy smile on your face. “I know you the best.”

“Exactly,” he hums as starts the car, his words flowing smoothly as he considers how drunk you are. There’s no way you’d remember this, right? “Why would I find another girl when I have you who knows me best?”

Your cheeks glow with pride at his words and you laugh. “Exactly.”

*** 

It’s late. Far too late and you toss and turn in bed. Your eyes are heavy but your brain won’t shut up, swirling with the memories of the previous night. You’re not really sure what happened after you got to the bar, only remembering snippets of the night. The entire time was a blur: you remember getting upset at the girls (or rather, at the information they were feeding you), meeting someone– Mason? Matthew? You can’t even remember– and then downing three shots. It’s awfully stupid of you, yes but then somehow you got home safe and sound with a note on your kitchen counter from Spencer.

You felt a little silly upon the finding of the note. Of course Spencer would take you home; it’s not like the girls were particularly sober by the time you wanted to leave. Regardless, reading the note made you feel incredibly stupid, more stupid than usual, and you wanted nothing more than to bury yourself six feet underground. 

‘Hi angel,’ it read in Spencer’s messy scrawl with chaotic lettering and swirly g’s. ‘You’re probably really hungover right now so there’s a Tylenol on the counter and a sandwich in the fridge. Please drink water; I’m sure you’re also severely dehydrated from the alcohol. I know you’re upset at me but please just forget about what the others said about Austin. I don’t like her like that. Be safe and call me when you wake up.’

The note was fine, nothing out of the ordinary, just Spencer being his usual ridiculously lovely self. You didn’t mind that he took care of you, either. It’s more-so the fact that you genuinely could barely remember what you said that him. You’re betting on it being something exceedingly dumb (you’re making a habit of it, much to your own chagrin), especially considering how much you had to drink that night. Maybe you should start abstaining from drinking from now on, especially if Spencer was in the vicinity. 

The note is now pinned securely to your cork board, a pretty lavender thumb tack holding it in place. Your gaze drifts to it for a moment then to your clock and you groan into your pillow. This is dumb. Sleep is dumb. Your clock blinks with the numbers ‘02:01’ in red mocking letters and you resist the urge to scream. After blindly searching for your phone, you step out of bed while rubbing your eyes. 

The lingering question keeps you up as you pace back and forth beside you bed. If Spencer doesn’t like Austin, who does he like? It can’t be Lila. You would have known if they kept in contact. Then again, you had no idea who Austin was so who knows what secrets Spencer is keeping? What if there was another girl? What if your entire friendship with Spencer was exactly that– friendship. You slap the palm of your hand to your forehead. Were you really that stupid?

It’s in that moment when your phone begins to ring. The tune plays through the room and you know it all too well; the Doctor Who theme song that you spent a whopping two dollars and thirty-seven cents on to add it as the custom ringtone for Spencer. 

“Hello…?” You answer quietly, your voice choking. “Walter?”

“Angel,” he murmurs, and you can hear shuffling in the background. “Why are you still awake?”

You hum, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I could ask you the same question.”

He laughs quietly on the other side of the line, scratchy from the lack of sleep. “Can I come over?”

“Always.”

He hangs up after that and you press the pads of your fingers into the corners of your eyes again. You’re exhausted, far too exhausted to be hosting guests, but this is Spencer. How can you ever say no to him? So, instead of sulking around and spending far too long doing nothing, you fashion yourself a cup of tea and flick the lights on. The book you were reading is thrown haphazardly onto the cushions of your couch but you can’t bring yourself to pick it up. 

The jiggling of the door handle brings you out of your little mood, and Spencer lets himself in with the key you gave him, locking it securely and taking his shoes off to reveal his sock choice of the day: one bright green and the other in fuchsia with buttercup yellow spots. He’s wearing a crinkly white t-shirt that hangs over his gangly frame and grey sweatpants. For something so basic, he looks absolutely criminal in it. You pinch yourself as punishment for thinking such a thing. 

“Hey,” he breathes, sitting next to you. He runs his fingers through his hair, frowning a little. “Do you think I should get it cut?”

You laugh, almost spilling your tea. “You came to my apartment at two in the morning to ask what I think about your hair?”

“Yes,” he agrees before laughing, “no! Of course not. I just thought of it.”

A hum leaves your lips as you curl a strand of his hair around your finger. “I like long hair on you. Besides, you’d look good in any hair cut.”

Spencer preens at your words, enjoying the feel of your touch in his hair. “You’re a liar. I know what I looked like four years ago. Don’t lie.”

“I’m not!” You insist, beaming at him as you poke his cheek. “You were really cute back then. Like a baby.”

He flushes again at both the compliment and the contact, his mind committing the way you say ‘baby’ to memory. He thinks it again and again; baby, baby, baby. 

“I was not a baby,” He tells you, half in jest. “I’m older than you!”

“By a year,” you quip, the sleep deprivation making your head go loopy. “Barely. Doesn’t matter, you’re still baby.”

Spencer scoffs lightly, poking your side. “If I’m a baby, what does that make you? A foetus? A zygote?”

You let out a quiet scream in protest, whacking him over the head with a throw pillow. “Ew, Spencer what the hell?”

He snickers in response, shielding his face with his forearm. “If I’m a baby and you’re younger than me, you must be at an earlier stage of development. So? Which is it, are you a foetus or a zygote? C’mon, angel, you passed eighth grade biology.”

“You’re an ass,” you chastise jokingly, rolling your eyes as you look up at him. Sometime amidst the commotion he must have gotten closer to you. Your noses are almost touching and your breath hitches in your throat. 

He smiles sweetly, his own cheeks warm and flushed with embarrassment as he maintains eye contact. “I thought I was ‘baby’.”

What the hell? Is this really Spencer Reid? Silly, awkward, nerdy little Spencer Reid? This must be a very convincing body suit and an even more convincing voice altering machine because this is not Spencer Reid. You can feel the blood rush to your cheeks and ears so quickly that it’s enough to make you go dizzy. Maybe you’re a lot more sleep deprived than you thought. 

“Are you drunk?” You croak out meekly as he cages you in, his forearms on either side of your head as he leans you against the couch. 

He laughs– he has the actual audacity to laugh– and he shakes his head. “No, angel, I’m not drunk. You know I don’t drink enough to actually get drunk. Besides, I drove here.”

“You drove here,” you repeat, a little dazed from how close he is. “It’s two in the morning.”

“Almost three now but yes,” Spencer agrees, smiling. 

“You hate driving,” you remind him, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Especially at night.”

He hums in agreement. “I do. But I wanted to see you.”

“Oh.”

You kick yourself internally. ‘Oh’? Who the hell says ‘Oh’? This is it. Your life is over. Maybe you should move to another state. Change your name, shave your head, and get a different degree because you’re almost certain that it’s the end of the line for you.

Spencer lets out a soft chuckle. “I missed you.”

“You saw me two days ago?” You say it like a question and you suddenly feel yourself sweating. It definitely got hotter in here. 

He murmurs your name, his fingers grazing the skin of your jaw gently. “I’m so glad I met you.”

“I ran into you four years ago and almost gave myself a concussion,” you say, averting your gaze as you tried to calm yourself down. 

“I’m so glad I met you,” he repeats softly, his nose brushing against your cheek. “Look at me, angel.”

You wet your bottom lip nervously as you look at him, his hazel eyes a little greener in the low light of your apartment. His legs are on either side of your hips and he brushes his thumb against your chin. 

“I want to kiss you,” Spencer says lowly, albeit a little breathlessly, and you can hear hoarseness in his words. “Can I?”

You’re dead. You’re either dead or asleep, that is the only explanation you have for this entire situation. You’re either dead and in heaven or asleep and dreaming. It is that plain and simple.

“What?” You croak out, your nails digging into the skin of your thighs. 

“I know you wanted to do it in a pool but I’m pretty sure your apartment gym is closed now, angel,” Spencer says, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs. “Can I kiss you?”

The only thing you can manage to do is nod, your eyes flickering to his lips for a split second, watching as the corners of his mouth tug upwards. Your brain barely has any time to comprehend the words he said (since when did you say that you wanted to kiss him in the pool?) because in a rush of confidence, Spencer cups your face and presses his lips to yours in a tantalisingly slow kiss. His eyes are closed and his hands are eerily soft, the gentleness in which he holds you reminiscent of one holding porcelain. 

He pulls away after a moment, his cheeks burning and a smile on his face. You can’t even breathe as you just stare at him, lips parted in surprise. What do you even say to that?

“Thank you?” You manage to stutter out, heat creeping up your neck.

He laughs again, breathless and beautiful, as he kisses the side of your face. “You’re welcome.”

Spencer brushes an eyelash from your cheek, beaming at you as he does. “It’s late,” he tells you, getting up from the couch and freeing your limbs. “You should get some rest.”

“Uh huh,” you respond, your head  spinning. “Bye.”

“Bye,” he says back, trying to hold in a laugh. “I’m free next Friday. Do you want to go out?”

“Go out?” You echo, “we always go out.”

“I know.” He smiles at you again as he makes his way to the door. “I meant– you know. We can go out.”

A beat passes and your head is awfully slow, whether from the kiss or from the sleep deprivation, you’re not entirely sure. “We can go out.”

“Great.” He pauses, taking a step towards you before kissing your cheek. “I’ll text you.”

“You’ll–” you gape at him again as he opens your door to leave. “You hate texting.”

He nods, slipping on his shoes. “I also hate driving at night. Your point?”

“Right,” you murmur, more to yourself than anything. “Text me when you get home?”

“Of course I will, angel,” he promises, “get some rest.”

Get some rest? How the hell are you supposed to get some rest after all that? With one last wave, Spencer leaves your apartment, leaving you hoping that this wasn’t just some thing. Maybe this was the very first page of your story– a very embarrassing start to your story. There is one thing for certain though: Spencer is not in love with someone else.

*** 

It’s a Tuesday when Penelope calls you. You had just finished up with a client when your phone begins to ring. 

“Penny!” You gush, unable to stop the smile from stretching onto your face. “I am stupid, I said ‘thank you’? Who the hell says thank you after someone kisses you?”

“Who kissed you?” Penelope asks, and if you weren’t so caught up in your own tangent you would have noticed that she sounded tearful. 

“Spencer did!” You exclaim, slapping a hand to your forehead. “He’s sitting there and he looks amazing and he smells really good and I am stupid.”

“Hold on, hold on,” Penelope says quickly, and you can imagine her waving her fluffy pen around. “He kissed you and you said thank you?”

“Yes.”

“Well that was very polite of you,” she says, trying to sound happy before her voice cracks.

You frown immediately, taking a seat in the wheelie chair in your office. “Penny? Is everything okay? What’s going on?”

“It’s about Spencer,” she says woefully, sniffling. “He wanted me to tell you something. It’s not looking good, honey, but– but he wanted me to give you a message.”

“Penny–” You stop short when you hear Spencer’s voice. It’s a recording from his phone, and you can only really tell because of the crackling audio on the other side of the line.

“Is it on?” Spencer asks before clearing his throat. He sounds breathless, his words breaking off at some parts and you know that it’s not from the bad audio quality. “Hey, angel, it’s me, Spenc– Walter. It’s your Walter. If you’re getting this then something happened and I just wanted you to know that– that I love you. I didn’t get the chance to tell you that before but I do. I love you and I wish it didn’t turn out like this but I am– I am so glad that we had that moment.”

Through the recording you can hear a shuffle, like the sound of a sliding door being opened, along with a quiet, “Prep the victim for transfer,” before the recording cuts out, leaving you with Penelope on the line. 

She calls your name quietly, choking on her words. “Are you okay?”

You hang up. 

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[exhaslo]

Puzzle Pieces Ch.7

(Mafia!Miguel x Shy!Reader)

Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch6

Warning: Eventual Smut so Minors DNI, mentions of abuse, blood, murder, language, fluff, bullying, mentions of sex

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It had been far too long. Far too long since you've stayed alone with a man overnight. Your nerves were kicking in as you kept thinking about staying over at Miguel's place. You knew that he would never take advantage of you, but the nerves. The nerves wouldn't go away nor stop the thoughts.

Unable to stop shaking, you gasped as you dropped the order you were wrapping on the floor. Prepared to be yelled at, you shrunk and covered your ears. To your surprise, none of your coworkers yelled at you. They just quickly made another order and had to wrap it for them again.

You apologized and redid the wrapping, glancing around. You've seen these guys scream and yell at each other whenever someone fucks up. How come they didn't do it to you? Recalling Miguel, you started to wonder if he had a hand in this. Miguel was a regular and someone who did use the supermarket for something else that you still didn't know.

Could he have said something?

Playing with your sleeves, you tried to calm down. Could Miguel have said something to your bosses? The thought did make your heart flutter. How much was this man going to take care of you? You needed to find a way to return the favor.

"(Y/N), go take a break." Your Supervisor told you. You flinched and nodded,

"S-Sorry," You whimpered, hurrying off to the breakroom.

Right as you left, your Supervisor exhaled loudly and walked over to the small seating area in front of the deli. He placed a sandwich in front of a woman holding a newspaper.

"You got patience. I could never sit and watch someone for eight hours a day."

"That's why I got hired," Jessica said, lowering her paper, "You and I both know it isn't going to last forever. Miguel always gets what he wants."

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

You held your bag in your hand, waiting for Miguel's text. You had prepped last night and the manager allowed you to leave your duffel bag in her office for your shift. Stepping outside the supermarket, you gasped lowly, spotting Miguel exiting his car.

"I was just about to text you," Miguel hummed. His driver rushing out to take your bag, "Would you like to go anywhere first before dinner? There's still some hours of daylight left."

"O-Oh, hmm..." You covered your mouth, trying to think as Miguel motioned you towards his car, "I-I'm not sure, there is...a few things I've been wanting to see..."

"Name them,"

Once you were both in the backseat of his car, Miguel brought you in for a deep kiss. He loved seeing how dazed and red you get each time. It was so addicting seeing your innocence. As you started naming some places, Miguel informed his driver to take them to each one.

Before they left, Miguel made sure to signal Jessica a good job and for her to go back home. Miguel was determined to make sure nothing gets you stressed or worked up. Especially not after seeing those scars.

Right as he leaned back into his seat, Miguel eagerly waited for a report from Miles. There was so much anger inside of Miguel that he needed to let it loose soon.

"Thank you, Miguel," You whispered, resting your head against his shoulder. Miguel wrapped his arm around your waist,

"Of course,"

---------

You were exhausted. Miguel had taken you all over the city, sightseeing a bunch of places you had wanted to visit. You felt so happy and loved. But mainly exhausted. All of that walking around since he couldn't drive into those places, did take a toll.

Rubbing your eyes as you sat back down in the back of Miguel's car, you whimpered a small yawn. Once the car started to drive, you immediately fell asleep.

---------

Miguel resisted a chuckle as he watched you sleep against him. Wanting to make you comfortable, Miguel adjusted you and had you lay your head on his lap. Miguel's jacket resting over you as a blanket. It was funny. Normally Miguel had women lay down in his car for other reasons, but this was nice.

As Miguel played with your hair, he felt his phone buzz. Assuming that it was Miles, Miguel hurriedly answered.

"Update?"

"Weeeeeeeeell," Lyla forced a laugh, "That mission you sent Miles on turned out to be a road trip."

"Que? (What)"

"See, Gwen and Hobie found out that Miles was going out of town and decided they want in. Then they dragged Pavitar with them, so to make sure they didn't mess up the mission or do anything stupid-"

"Don't say Peter-"

"I had Peter go supervise them," Lyla laughed.

Miguel couldn't handle hearing anymore. He hung up, groaning lowly. It just had to be the youngling of his group. They kept adding to his stress. But, at least Miguel had you.

"Shall I take you home, sir?" Miguel glanced up at his driver,

"Yes. Perhaps take out will suffice for dinner instead." Miguel replied, adoring your sleeping visage.

The last thing Miguel wanted to do was overstimulate you. You were fragile. His reports from Jessica were very detailed in what got you to tick and explode. It took every ounce of willpower for Miguel to stay back whenever Jessica reported you crying over a stupid, angry customer.

But, you won't be working there much longer. Arriving at his penthouse, Miguel carefully picked you up and carried you upstairs while his driver grabbed the bags.

You looked perfect in his arms. All nuzzled against him, sleeping peacefully. Why didn't you appear sooner in his life? Miguel was going to treat you like the queen you deserve to be. His precious little wife. A title so fitting for you.

Miguel had his driver leave the bags on the counter and told him to enjoy the rest of his day. With ease, Miguel took off both his shoes and yours and proceeded to take you to his bedroom. Miguel placed you on his bed, kissing the top of your head before leaving to order some food.

"Que duermas bien mi conejito. (Sleep well, my little bunny)"

-----------

It was quiet. Your felt yourself start to come too as you shifted slightly in your sleep. You felt relaxed and comfortable. Slowly opening your eyes, you titled your head at the different, yet fancy ceiling. Miguel must have taken you to his place.

Gasping, you shot up, covering your face since you realized that you fell asleep. How embarrassing! You looked around, seeing that you were in his room, but no sign of Miguel. Laying back down, you felt yourself sink into his mattress.

"It smells like him," You whispered, holding his pillow close.

Your cheeks started to warm up as your heart pounded against your chest. You were really at Miguel's place. You wanted to feel like everything was moving so fast, but it also felt so right. It was corny, but you felt like Miguel was filling in the missing pieces.

"Ah, you're awake. Did you rest well?" Miguel asked as he entered the room. You quickly released his pillow and sat up,

"Mhm, s-sorry for falling asleep,"

"Don't be. I made you exhausted after a long day of work," Miguel sat beside you, cupping your cheek, "I got us some take out. Ready to eat?"

"Yep,"

You took Miguel's hand, giggling softly as he lifted you off the bed. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, enjoying the moment. Miguel held your hand as he showed you around his penthouse, at least until he took you to the dining room where dinner was waiting.

"T-This place...is...is so big. It...It must feel really lonely," You whispered.

Miguel glanced at you in awe. Every other women would compliment on his place, saying it must cost a fortune, or make a sly comment about him needing a maid. Yet, here you were, worried about him. It was funny how much Miguel loved you.

"Not too much since I'm only here so a short time. Unless I get a reason to home won't, I'll stay out working." Miguel handed you a plate.

"T-Thank you,"

You watched Miguel as he set the plates, finding him much more attractive. This was new. You sat up, wanting to help him, but Miguel insisted that you'd sit and relax. As Miguel set the plates, you picked at your sleeves. He was so nice to you. So understanding.

Perhaps, you could tell him your secret. It was something hard for you, but if you were going to be serious with Miguel, you wanted him to know. You were just worried about his reaction. What if he decided that you were ugly? What if he didn't want anything to do with you afterwards?

"(Y/N), what's wrong?" Miguel hurried to your side, wiping your tears away, "Tell me, mi amor (my love)."

"I-I'm so-sorry. I-It's just...I...I want...w-want to t-tell you s-something b-but...but I-I'm scared...t-that you'll w-want n-nothing to do...w-with me." You sobbed.

Miguel knew you were scared due to your worse stuttering. He held you against his chest, letting you cry. Miguel had a rough idea that you wanted to tell him about your scars. Hell, Miguel wasn't sure how he would react. Stroking your hair, Miguel sighed softly,

"(Y/N), I never want you to be scared of me. You can tell me anything. I'll still love you all the same," He tried to reassure you.

You sniffled, trying to calm down. You apologized for ruining dinner, but Miguel dismissed it. He reassured you once more, and told you to eat. Miguel wanted you to have some energy before telling him anything.

You agreed and ate beside Miguel, still sniffling every now and then. Once finished, you offered to do the dishes, needing some more time to calm down. Miguel said he was going to shower. That gave you some time.

Once dishes were done, you quickly looked through your bag for your pajamas, puzzles and cookies. When Miguel came out of the shower, you proceeded to enter. You grabbed Miguel's hand, slowly bringing him back into the bathroom.

"(Y/N)?"

"I-I was...in a....v-very bad relationship...b-before. Which, which is why I'm s-so scared...I-I really...really...like you Miguel. I-I want y-you to understand...m-my fear,"

"Of course,"

You closed your eyes as Miguel held your cheeks in his hands. He kissed your forehead, giving you motivation. You hummed lowly and slowly started to take off your clothes.

---------

Miguel watched you, telling himself to relax no matter the outcome. You needed his support, which was something he was not used to giving. His brows furrowed as you took your pants off. There were cuts, scars and a few cigarette marks.

Miguel felt his blood boil. Tears were streaming down your cheeks as your body started to shake. You were gripping the bottom of your shirt, hesitating to pull it up. Miguel almost didn't want you too, but this was for you.

"Lo mataré por ti, mi conejito. (I'll kill him for you, my bunny.)" Miguel whispered as he gave you a deep kiss.

Miguel watched the sparkle in your eyes shine as you made eye contact with him. His hands rested over yours, helping you remove your shirt. Miguel inhaled deeply as he observed your body, which was covered in those marks as well.

"S-Sorry...f-for not being-"

"Beautiful?" Miguel interrupted, needing to change your mindset, "You didn't make these marks, but they don't cover your beauty. (Y/N), I'll get revenge for you, but I need you to love yourself as much I do." He whispered, kissing your hand.

"B-But-"

"You have no idea how much I'm behaving right now. Seeing you shaking in front of me, ready to be devoured."

Miguel chuckled lowly as your face turned bright red. He captured your lips in another kiss before taking your hand and showing you how the shower worked. He smiled, watching you nod and hold his hand tightly.

You were warming up to him, and Miguel liked that. Letting you shower peacefully, Miguel made sure to compliment you once more. He stepped out of the bathroom and returned to the dining room, to make sure everything was cleaned.

To his surprise, he saw your cookies. A smile formed against his lips as he placed one in his mouth despite hating sweets. To his surprise, it wasn't too sweet. It felt just right. Feeling his phone buzz, Miguel looked at a text he received from Miles.

'We have a name.'

"Tch," Miguel hissed lowly, calling the kid, "I want more than just a name. I want everything on his fucker. If you guys find him, bring me to me."

"Whoa, guys? It's just me-"

"I can hear Hobie and Peter in the background," Miguel said unamused. Miles laughed awkwardly,

"Okay, fine. Hobie's asking if we can rough him up a bit?"

"No. Leave that to me."

Miguel immediately hung up upon hearing your call. He returned to the bathroom with a grim look on his face. Miguel was going to make sure your ex paid for what he did to you. For damaging his precious future wife.

You belonged to Miguel.

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

next chapter <<<Heavy smut

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#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #miguel x y/n #miguel x you #miguel x reader

[abibliophobiaa]

Summary: You’ve never been one for love. Especially after your last round with it. Halloween rolls around and in comes Eddie Munson. He’s only in town for a couple days, you’re looking for no strings, and chances are you’ll never see him again anyway.

Easy, right?

That is, until you end up with an unexpected party favor.

mini series masterlist

next chapter

——

warnings: alcohol; smut; unprotected p in v; unplanned pregnancy and associated symptoms; major miscommunication. eddie munson x afab!reader(7k words)

——

“You’ve been staring around for hours. No one is catching your eye? Not even slightly? You’re not doing brain surgery, you’re just trying to get your toes wet.”

You knew this. But the music had been too loud, the room too heated, your body tucked away against the bar as you sat beside your best friend, sipping on a watery margarita that the ice had long since dissolved into.

All around you people bobbed and swayed to ‘Monster Mash.’ Cliche by all means, and yet it felt fitting when you appraised the crowd once more and noted the mummy dancing with his zombified partner. Further out you caught a werewolf in a particularly compromising position with a vampire, and a group of clowns crowded together hosting what looked to be a meeting.

“What about that Westley guy?”

Right — the one everyone had been talking about all night. The man who had the nerve to dress up as the direct counterpart to your own costume. With a huff, you hiked your leg up, crossing one over the other against the stool. The red dress around you shifted and moved, fingers reaching to adjust the belt around your waist.

“I haven’t seen him.” You shrugged, taking another sip of your drink. “For all I know, he doesn’t exist.”

Micah glanced about the room once again, her makeshift halo wobbling on her head. Somewhere in the distance her boyfriend, Jeremiah, was invested in a deeply riveting conversation about football with some of his friends from college. All of which had dressed in their old football jerseys, dark lines drawn haphazardly under eyes, helmets covering heads. She lingered on him for a moment, and then glanced further over your shoulder, lips tugging upward into a devilish grin. Oddly fitting for the girl dressed as an angel.

“Actually, he’s right there.”

Gravity sent your heart tumbling into your gut. Silly, when you’d thought about it. Just because he’d worn a costume from one of your comfort movies didn’t mean he’d be anything special. Multiple pirates, doctors, and the occasional Michael Myers and Freddy Krueger had already attempted to rouse a conversation, only for it to fall flat. This could very well end up the same, and this night was lost to the turmoil of the inner workings of your mind, still reeling from the sting rumbling in your chest over the past few months.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

But it wasn't a joke when you swiveled around on your stool and faced him. Not at all. In a dimly lit bar, packed too tight with too many bodies bumping you to and fro even as you presently sat, you spotted him. Found the guy people had been mentioning all night as the other half of your ‘couple’s costume,’ saying you both looked amazing together, despite the fact none of them knew he was quite literally a stranger to you.

He sat at a lonesome table. Leaned on an elbow with a cheshire grin spread across the prettiest set of pink lips. His dark curly hair was tied behind his head, tucked into the mask that covered the upper half of his face. Even partially obscured like that, he was handsome, freezing you in place with those piercing brown eyes that were locked unwaveringly on your silhouette.

So he’d noticed you too. Inwardly, you were beaming. After two months of couch surfing and feeling sorry for yourself after a failed relationship wherein you’d walked on your partner of two years with someone who most definitely wasn’t you, you’d decided tonight was the night you’d get back out there. A night of fun, a night to meet someone new, to let loose a bit.

“What are you waiting for,” your friend Micah asked, shoving you forward with a hasty push. “He’s your Westley. If this isn’t some weird ass fate, I don’t know what is.”

Your Westley’s smile grew wider as you approached. Corners dragged upward to form that broad grin, bracketed by the sweetest set of dimples you’d ever seen on a man. Heart pounding a bit, you leaned up against the table, letting out a noncommittal huff. Puffed out a deep breath that caught his attention and had those chocolate brown eyes solely on you.

“Is this space taken?” you asked, and he dipped his head in greeting. “So you’re the guy everyone has been talking about all night.”

“Ah, yes,” he laughed, and you couldn’t help but to smile at the very sound. It’s a lovely, hearty sound. The kind of laugh that seemed dangerous, because you might like it too much. “And you’re the girlfriend I didn’t know I had.”

“You too, huh?”

“Yeah,” he echoed, taking a step closer. “Though it’s all very flattering. Prettiest Princess Buttercup here.” He dropped the lowest part into a whisper, “Definitely a compliment because, if I’m being honest, you’re way out of my league.”

Your cheeks burned with the compliment, feet fidgeting beneath you where you stood. He reached over and slid a chair beside his hip, patting the surface so you could hop on up and join him, a hand of his reaching out to steady you when you wobbled a bit. Another round of drinks were ordered and you learned quickly his name was Eddie and he’d been in town only for a couple weeks now. Had a few gigs in the city for the band he played in and would be off in another two days. Blew in and out like the storm that presently raged outside, wind howling, rain splashing against sidewalks, lightning painting the night sky in a shock of white before leaving it dark once more. He’d grown up in a small town, but realized he’d only ever had dreams that were too small for the walls he’d been raised in.

So he’d ended up on a short tour and would head off to California to start laying down tracks for the band’s first ever album. He sounded so hopeful and eager, so rejuvenated and excited about life, and it had you endeared to him. Drifting closer as the night went on and he asked you about your own life. Learned you grew up here in the city but craved something quieter, very much unlike him. You’d studied creative writing and English in college and wanted to write the stories people would one day know and love and shelve in their homes, but in the meantime you worked at a library. It wasn’t the most thrilling job, but it kept you abreast, and he regaled you with the endless fantasy titles he’d known and loved through the years.

It wasn’t long before the hours trickled on by and Micah approached the two of you with a sulking Jeremiah in tow. The latter of the two a little too inebriated based on the slight sway in his form and the hand Micah kept firmly planted around his forearm.

Her blue eyes flickered up at Eddie’s face, then drifted back to yours. “I’m taking this idiot home. He’s in time out —”

“Noooo,” he moaned, forehead pressing into the crook of his girlfriend’s neck.

“Are you coming back with me or…?” Micah’s eyes trailed back upward to Eddie once more, brows arched curiously.

Eddie looked at you and shrugged. “Up to you, Buttercup.”

“I’m gonna stay…actually.”

Micah nodded, giving you both one last glance over before tugging her boyfriend along behind her in the direction of the door. As she passed, she leaned up against the hollow of your ear and said loud enough over the music, “Be careful. Have fun. You’re beautiful and I love you and you deserve to enjoy yourself tonight, okay?”

Once they were gone your attention returned to the man swathed in black standing before you, shoulder bumping his. “It's too loud in here,” you shouted for emphasis, insides nearly rattling from the music booming from the speakers positioned about the room. “Is there somewhere we can go that’s a little more…”

“Private?” he asked, leaning down toward your ear. Chills skittered along your arms as his lips nearly brushed your skin there, gooseflesh pimpling in its wake. “I have a hotel room two blocks over. How do you feel about running?”

“Let’s go.” You grinned.

“As you wish.” He beamed, holding out a gloved hand for you to take.

Outside, the two of you huddled up beneath the small awning growing smaller by the second with the other patrons who had similar ideas of waiting for their rides and cabs or braving the fall storm head on and taking off into the soaked streets in their full Halloween costumes.

Laughter bubbled up from your lips as a particularly hard jolt against your back sent you tumbling into his form, a quick hand of his reaching out and curling low around your back. He tensed, eyes locked on yours, awaiting your response and you leaned further into him, relishing in the heat of his form.

Moments skittered by under the awning. His eyes roamed your form, dark and beautiful, ringed with those little crinkles that appeared in the corners whenever he smiled. He’d been smiling all night — at you, a thought that has little butterfly wings quivering low in your belly, and lower still at the suddenness of the desire ramping up in your bloodstream.

The glowing lights from the bar filter out onto the street. Flashed orange and red across Eddie’s features, painted him in vibrant color, highlighting the plushness of his lips, the curve of his jaw, the bump of his chin. Hesitant fingers reached up to brush at the curls tied behind his head, curled one of the ringlet strands around and around a fingertip, your forearm spreading over the space between his shoulders, around his neck until he pressed in closer to you. Those chocolate brown eyes flickered southward. Lingered on your lips briefly before traveling back up, asking that question without words. Your only answer was the upward tip of your mouth, leaning into the space, waiting to feel him warm against you.

Electricity danced in the moments shared between you. In the fingertips that pressed into his shoulder and gripped tight as his nose nudged at the space beside yours, your mouth tipping up closer to his. From here, you could smell the mint he’d tossed in his mouth on the way out, could feel the tremble of his breath against your sternum, feel the heat of it fanning over your lips.

But the kiss never came. Behind you, a group of friends pushed and shoved toward the front door, nearly sending you and Eddie into the sidewalk and out of the shelter provided by your awning. It dawned on you then, however begrudgingly, that maybe you should move, give others a space to wait for their vehicles, and start to head in the direction of his hotel room.

He seemed to agree, sliding his palm down your forearm to twine his fingers between yours. “Guess that’s our cue, huh?”

“Bet you’re glad you wore the equivalent of tights for pants today, huh?”

“Suppose it makes it easier for me to whisk you away in the night, now doesn’t it?” He barked out a laugh, and clutched your hand tighter, dragging you out onto the street and into the rain.

——

You were presently in the midst of what was officially the weirdest, most endearing hook up you’d ever had. Moments after rushing out into the busy city streets and getting absolutely drenched from head to toe, Eddie tugged you toward a grocery store, suggesting he had nothing back at the hotel. Had looked a little bashful about it, even when you reassured him it was fine and you’d manage without, though he wouldn’t hear any of it.

As a result, you trailed behind him, dress sopping wet and clinging to every inch of your body, helping gather some things you might need in between what you hoped would be an eventful afternoon. Water, snacks, and the like. He seemed so giddy with it, and you hated the way his dimple in his cheek had your heart and thighs clenching. You preferred only the latter of the two, and couldn’t afford yourself the emotional aspect that came along with the former.

Eventually you had both found yourselves in the frozen food aisle, his shoulder bumping yours, your fingers dancing in the spaces between the two of you, the anticipation of after burning brighter with every minute that passed.

“How do you think they know what…oh, I don’t know…Moose Tracks taste like?” Eddie asked, turning his head over his shoulder.

Fortunately for you, he’d removed his mask, revealing more of his features. Those curls that dangled along his brow line, the smattering of freckles along high cheekbones, the crinkled corners of his eyes whenever he smiled at you.

“What?” you asked, once more reminding yourself of just how differently this night was going than you’d originally anticipated.

“Like what makes a Moose Track a Moose Track?”

“I think it’s just a…mix of things that remind them of…you know what?” His eyes twinkled, and you shifted a little closer. It really sucked that he was cute — obnoxiously so. “I actually don’t know. But, I do think we have more than enough stuff here to feed an army. And I think the rain finally let up.”

“You want to head out?”

“I think we should,” you agreed, tugging him along behind you down the aisle, in search of the nearest check out line.

The walk to the hotel room reminded you both of what you’d intended for that evening. The curious glances you would catch him shooting your way, the way you’d do the same when he focused his attention ahead. It increased with every step closer to the looming building, the desire for closeness, to feel, to touch, to taste.

Burned brighter when he swiped his key card and you started shoving the things he’d brought inside of the mini fridge, before snatching two water bottles and placing them down on the bedside table. He whistled as you walked around the room, fingers snapping, one of his curls tucked against the fullness of his mouth.

“You know, we don’t have to do anything,” you reassured him, sensing the nervousness radiating from his form.

Those dark eyes settled on yours as you approached, palm coming up slowly to rest against his sternum, right where you could feel his heartbeat clanging against his ribs.

“It’s been a while,” he settled on, voice softer than it had been all evening, a tremorous quality catching your attention.

“We’ll go slow,” you promised, leaning up to finally, and happily, close the space between the two of you.

It felt like a long, shared exhale. The way he immediately knew which way to turn his head, how you liked for his calloused fingers to rest against your cheekbone, that you wanted to be as close as possible, pressed flush against his form. Your head swam as he turned you around and walked you backward until your backside thumped against the edge of the dresser positioned against the wall opposite the bed. Grunted as he reached a hand up the back of your neck and sought out that pesky zipper you wanted so badly pulled down.

As if he’d read your mind, the man in question gave the zipper a nice, hard tug and the fabric shifted and dropped around your shoulders, baring the similarly colored bra beneath. So maybe you’d gone shopping for your first foray back after your break up? Based on the darkened eyes honing in on the lacy fabric, you’d picked correctly.

“Such a shame,” he groaned against the curve of your collar bone, fingers pushing the dress down and onto the floor, “really liked that dress.”

“My turn,” you mused, fingers reaching forward to tug the tunic free from his obscenely tight pants.

He helped you with ease, arms lifting just enough to help pull it over his head, giggling as his endless mane of curls sprang free. Tattoos jumped to life before your eyes. The multiple on his arms and torso, some looking faded and older, likely done in someone’s house, and others freshly inked, leaving a tapestry of stories he’d likely tell you if you’d only had the time.

“Fuck it.” He reached down and cupped your jaw, bruising kiss after bruising kiss laid upon your mouth, your toes digging into the carpet below as pale fingers trailed down the center of your chest, and then lower still, pausing at the hem of your panties. “Can I touch you?”

You might burst into flames if he didn’t. “Please.”

“Never have to say please with me, Buttercup,” he said, fingers pushing past that lacy barrier until they met your flesh, knowing exactly what he’d find there. “Sweetheart…this all for me?”

“Don’t tease.”

A broken sigh spilled from your lips, fingers clutched tight around his forearm as those expert fingers dragged a slow circle around your clit before sliding back to your center, pushing in. Your head rolled back against the wall, heat blooming anew as he stepped closer into the circle of your thighs, watching the rapid rise and fall of your chest, enjoying the sounds made only for him, the slickness of your center practically pulling his fingers back in with every perfect thrust curled in that spot right where you needed him the most.

“Fuck, just like that, sweetheart,” he panted, mouth pressed tight to yours, grinning against your skin as you keened high and tight, creeping closer and closer to your edge.

And just when you’d thought you were about to explode into dozens of tiny stars like in the night sky above, Eddie stopped. You nearly cried out his name in your frustration, only to find him dropping down onto his knees in front of the dresser, capable hands tugging you closer to the edge, before he pushed the dainty fabric back to the side and swapped his fingers for his tongue.

One long stripe from center to clit was all you'd needed for the rubber band to snap. For the shaking to start, the chanting of his name like a mantra or a prayer to rouse the neighbors likely next door and alert everyone in the building to what magic Eddie had worked between your thighs.

“Not,” you gasped, leaning your head forward to rest against his heaving chest, “fair.”

“What’s not fair, sweetheart?”

“Too good at that.” Another rasped breath pooled from your lips, quieted by the sound of your lips pressing to his chest. Hazy eyes lifted to his face, a satisfied exhale slowing the rise and fall of your chest. “Get on the bed.”

“What do you —”

“On the bed,” you repeated, grinning wickedly as he backed up just enough so his kneecaps hit the mattress. “I want to look at you.”

And god, what a sight he was. Once you’d finally managed to tug his pants down, revealing the boxers beneath, you were rewarded with the fullness of Eddie Munson in the flesh. The narrow waist, the smattering of hair you kissed along his abdomen, the curve of his chest, the freckles along his chest and shoulders. Traced along the tattoos on his chest, the sides of his ribs, the one on his upper thigh, before dragging upward to slide over the increasingly — and massively impressive — hardened cock peeking out from the waistband of his boxers.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he blew the words out on a shaky exhale as you squeezed a little tighter, gauging what he liked.

Your grin grew as you wiggled the remnants of his clothing off his hip and cupped the weight of him in your palm. Perfect. He was absolutely perfect, and you wanted so badly to show him just how much you thought so, sliding down further onto the edge of the bed, tongue dragging a long line up the underside, along that prominent vein that had him bucking upward off the bed.

“Can I, Eddie?”

He watched through hooded lashes as your eyes zeroed in on his leaking tip, thumb sliding over the pre-cum there, before gliding your palm in a slow downward motion around him. He nodded, breath nearly cutting off completely as you finally, and blessedly, welcomed him into your mouth, immediately knowing nothing would compare to this moment and this girl.

Ruined. You’d ruined him for others, your pretty smile around his cock driving him too swiftly to a precipice he didn’t want to see the end of. Not yet. “Wait, wait, wait. Fuck. Your mouth is perfect, sweetheart. But — mmm — I need you.”

He pulled you upward with a gentle hand on the back of your neck, rolling you over beneath him, tongue marking a path along your chest, the peaks of your nipples, the delicate skin of your abdomen. With each pass of his lips over your flesh, you sank deeper into the mattress, knee bent, foot digging into the space above his hip, drawing him close enough that you could feel his glistening, wet hardness brushing your abdomen.

“Someone’s impatient,” you teased, moaning as his finger circled your wet entrance. “Want you inside me.”

“Patience, Buttercup,” he practically purred, reaching over into the bedside table to find…nothing. “No. Oh shit. We didn’t get condoms. I’m such an idiot, I —”

“Shit,” you whimpered, jolting upright and nearly smashing your skull into his as he double checked the inside of the drawer. “What about your suitcase? Wallet?”

“I told you I don’t exactly do this often.”

Those dark brows knitted together on his forehead, fingers pinching at the bridge of his nose. You remembered then the fortunate and recent development of starting birth control after Micah suggested she could never live without it, and suddenly you wanted nothing more than to clasp your hands together and thank the heavens for the little pills you had back home in your friend’s bathroom.

“I’m on the pill,” you told him, swallowing the nervousness that grew with every beat of your heart. “And I’ve been tested recently. I’m clean.”

Maybe it was stupid. Maybe you should have known better.

“I’ve been tested since my last time too. I’m good,” he said, unmistakable desperation filling his voice.

“I don’t want to stop,” you whispered as he rolled onto his back.

“Me neither,” he agreed as you clambered over his lap and bracketed his hips with a thigh on either side.

Lured with the wonderful bliss that was Eddie Munson’s lips warm and plus against yours, you gripped him in hand and slowly lowered yourself down onto him, completely bare. There was something so raw about the moment. About the shuddered breath you both released, the way his hands cupped your hips as he pushed in deeper than you ever thought possible, his voice a broken mix of ‘that’s a good girl,’ ‘taking me so well,’ ‘look so good full of my cock,’ as you move over him.

You wanted to hate that you end up doing something between fucking and making love. For something so casual, it feels almost too intimate, the way you collided together like two pieces fitted together of a puzzle that had only been missing those parts.

And it wasn’t gentle, his fingers clutched in your flesh, feet planted on the bed as he eventually pounded up into you — but it was also somehow tender. A complicated mess, just like the shattered pieces of your heart as he groaned one last time and urged you to come with him, pulling you closer in his arms. His fingers circled your clit until you cried his name and clenched down around him, whimpering at the warmth of him spilling inside.

As you both drifted back to reality, he maneuvered around the bed and washed himself from between your thighs. Cooed when you winced at the cold contact, dropping a kiss against your forehead and telling you that it had started storming again. He could either call you a cab or you could stay the night, he’d suggested. You hadn’t anticipated spending the night with him, but after he dug around for the ice cream and M&Ms you got from the supermarket, you found you couldn’t say no to him.

Especially when he turned on the television and, funnily enough, The Princess Bride was on. Fate, or something more, seemed to laugh in your face. Gleeful as you sprawled out beneath the covers naked as the day you were born beside the man who you quickly learned enjoyed handfuls of popcorn mixed with his sweet chocolate treats.

It didn’t take long before he’d grown hard again, the lights dimmed and the food forgotten, your soft sighs and pleasured peals filling the room as he pushed in and watched as your eyes rolled back and back arched prettily for him.

And later, after you were both satiated and satisfied, you fell asleep to the sounds of Inigo Montoya’s famous speech, and the gentle inhales and exhales of the man sprawled out beneath you.

——

Daylight streamed in through the olive curtains positioned against the wall across from you. You hadn’t noticed them last night. Hadn’t noted the wooden walls, the pale ceiling above, nor the cream bedspread across your hips. Hadn’t noticed a lot of things, it seemed, other than the man who dozed behind you, tattooed arm slung low around your waist, keeping you in close.

Fallen asleep — you’d both fallen asleep watching The Princess Bride, much to your grunted amusement as you shifted up and into a sitting position. Eddie’s arm thumped onto the bed, leaving a wrinkled mess around his sinewy forearm. Sparing a glance over your shoulder, you took in the curve of his jaw. The way he looked more boyish than his nearly thirty years, lips parted in a sleepy breathing pattern, curls strewn all about his face. A smile graced your lips, fingers of yours rolling over the curve of his back, the heft of his shoulder, the breadth of his bicep.

Part of you craved curling back up beside him. Wanted to feel his mouth roving over yours, across your skin, between your thighs once more. Would probably dream about the way his face had scrunched up in pleasure before he came apart beneath you last night for weeks to come. But your eyes noticed the time ticking on the far wall, alerting you that work started in two hours. Some weekend reading activity for the children in your town you’d volunteered to work weekend hours for; hindsight, as they say, was twenty-twenty.

“She’s running away in the night,” he grumbled beside you, mouth rolling over to press into the pillow you had slept soundly on for a shocking eight hours, letting out a loud yawn. You couldn’t recall the last time you’d done so. That curly head of hair lifted, too-long strands falling into his gaze as he pinched one eye shut and glanced toward the giant bedroom window. “Or…morning, I guess?”

“I have work,” you said, reaching over to snatch your underwear from off the floor.

He watched with rapt attention as you whirled around and clasped your bra into place, cheeks burning despite the fact he’d seen every inch of you merely hours ago. The man propped himself up onto one elbow, your eyes catching the bat tattoos on his arm as his fingers reached over to curl around your hip, dragging you back down into bed.

Soon enough it was loud giggles, his fingers dancing along your sides, noisy kisses against your own. But it didn’t take long before you were reduced to breathy sighs. His fingers against the span of your hips, his chest pressing yours into the mattress. Lips over yours, against your cheek, the curve of your throat, the hollow between your breasts, the valley of your abdomen. He stopped with a nip along your hip bone, tongue laving over the sensitive skin there.

“Do you have to go?” he groaned against your stomach, placing a final kiss there before crawling back up your body and cradling the back of your head with one hand, his body weight perched on the other elbow, face hovering over your own. Pretty, he was so damn pretty and you wished you could hate him for it.

“I guess I have a few minutes,” you suggested coyly.

And it was all Eddie needed before he had you beneath him once more singing a tune he knew he’d never forget.

You dressed in silence after. He pulled on a fresh pair of jeans and a thin sweater while you glanced at the wrinkled heap of your dress from the night before. It hadn’t dawned on you the complications of getting your feet wet on Halloween — at least, not until now.

“I can’t walk back to Micah’s in that,” you groaned, pointing to the messy ball of fabric on the floor.

“Wait — I have an idea!”

Eddie rummaged around a box in the far corner of the room and tossed a tee shirt your way. Across the front was ‘Corroded Coffin’ in a messy font that reminded you of how your brain often felt after one too many cups of coffee in the morning.

“Your band?” you asked, turning the shirt around to show him.

“Yeah.” He nodded, white teeth flashing with his smile. “You know, you could see us some time.”

You quickly slipped the dress over your head and let the skirt ruffle messily along the floor, then moved to roll up the billowy sleeves to your shoulders.

“I can’t say that I’ll be in California any time soon,” you told him, pulling the tee over your head next and draping it over the belt. Like this, it looked more like an oddly fitted skirt and a top. You already decided that was much better than a Halloween costume, so it would do until you got home and could change.

He nodded rapidly, like he knew that, but hadn’t realized that you’d be coasts apart in only a couple of days.

“Well…” he trailed off, searching around the bedside table for a moment.

Once he procured a pencil and a piece of paper, he scribbled down a string of numbers you immediately knew were the hope for something more from a boy with kind eyes, a beautiful smile, and a heart of gold. Your chest ached. If only you’d met him two years ago, at a better time, in a place where you were more open to whatever this could not be.

“My number — for the place I’ll be staying at for the next couple months,” he explained, tucking it into the exposed circle of your palm, closing your fist within his fingers. “Maybe, I don’t know…we can talk?”

“I can do talking,” you conceded, already hating the fact you knew you wouldn’t be utilizing the number.

It was better this way; he was better off this way.

You both parted with a kiss in the doorway. With his arms looped low around your waist in a way that felt too familiar. A way that suffocated, heart twisting at the soft smile that graced his pretty mouth when he wished you a good shift and you wished him a safe flight.

The walk home was all inward grins that flowed on your face until it hurt. Waves to random strangers passing on the street, curious gazes from onlookers at the billowing sleeves you kept shoving up into your tee shirt as you passed. Memories of the night before flashed in your mind. Of his fingers tugging the zipper on the dress, tossing your underwear alongside his on the floor, mouth on yours, hands learning the contours of your body, the way he fitted perfectly inside you.

Another time, another place, another day maybe.

And that day was not today.

Micah was sprawled across the kitchen island when you entered. You shut the door as quietly as possible behind you, only to find she’d already been awake anyway. A cup of likely long gone cold coffee rested beside her along with a bottle of painkillers, her forehead pressed against the cool tile, nursing what you imagined had to be the headache from hell.

“You’re home late,” she grumbled, pushing her head up into her hands. Blonde hair spilled around her forearms, face covered behind her palms. “I’m assuming you had a good time. Which will at least make one of us. Jere passed out as soon as we got home and snored all night.”

“Sorry, sweetie,” you apologized, stepping further into the kitchen, opening the refrigerator immediately for some water. “I…we had fun.”

“I’m going to need you to spill, because he was cute even with the mask. Don’t think I didn’t notice,” she mused, suddenly healed of her headache, what with the way she looked at you like she’d received the best news of her life.

“I accomplished exactly what I wanted to. I got my toes wet.” You shrugged, lathering some butter onto a freshly toasted bagel.

“You like him,” she screeched, making her own self wince at the sheer volume of it.

You did. You do. But those feelings would fade. Your resolve had already hardened because he wanted romance and flowers and you needed no strings. He deserved that much — he deserved so much.

“We had sex, that’s all. And he’s leaving for California in a few days. I’m never going to see him again. So it doesn’t really matter, now does it?”

——

It hadn’t felt real. For days, you’d doubted every symptom. Every inkling that might have alluded to your present condition.

First, it had been the realization that your period was late. Not even the one or two days you would have pushed aside as a result of stress, the extra hours you’d taken up at work to try and save a little money here and there for a new apartment, or your severe lack of sleep. Then, the nauseousness started. In waves, most days, and definitely not only in the mornings like you’d been led to believe your whole life. Your chest ached next; a fullness that felt unlike your normal, monthly symptoms. Chalked it up to your oncoming period. The same period by that point was nearly two weeks delayed. There was also the fact that no matter how much you slept, you’d still felt like it wasn’t enough. Found yourself dozing off at work, yawning standing in the line for groceries, losing focus while out with friends.

There was also the fact statistics were on your side. You’d done all the right things and were on birth control at the time. So it couldn’t be…that, right? Statistically improbable, unlikely, unwarranted. At least, that was what you had chosen to reassure yourself with, quieting the shouting in your skull that suggested otherwise.

It wasn’t until you were sprawled out against that obnoxiously crinkly white paper in the doctor’s office a little over a month after Halloween that you’d even allowed the thought to enter your mind. It also happened to be the first moment you wondered if you were about to have the entirety of your life changed by a night with a boy in too tight pants you’d definitely not thought about even once since you’d spent the night with him. And you most definitely didn’t picture his dark pupils expanding in the night as you rolled over him, his palms gripping your hips, your hands on his chest, heads thrown back in shared ecstasy.

No.

Not at all.

Six weeks, they told you, with sympathetic looks and uncertain smiles as you exhaled shakily and stared up at the ceiling to stop the room from spinning out of control around you. Six weeks pregnant and undoubtedly so, based on the rapid thrum of the baby’s heartbeat on the screen before you. Strong, they’d said. Perfectly healthy for someone at this point in your pregnancy. They printed pictures up for you of the tiny gummy bear with arms and you held it in trembling hands as they began to speak. Words strung together to form sentences you’d barely understood. Options for next steps, vitamins to take, habits to stop, foods to eat and foods to avoid, how much caffeine to drink, how much weight you could lift and what activities you should start to limit—your head spun with it and continued the whole quiet walk home back to Micah’s place she shared with her boyfriend, Jeremiah.

She welcomed you with open arms as you entered their apartment with a pamphlet on pregnancy in one hand and your pocketbook in the other, whimpered cries of not knowing what to do soaking through her knitted sweater. She’d accepted it without hesitation, just as she always did and would. Held you close to her chest — and hissed at Jeremiah to leave when he’d eventually poked his head in — as you processed the emotions swirling like an endless kaleidoscope in your mind.

And later, when your tears had dried and she’d plopped a freshly opened box of ice cream in your lap and demanded you eat, she asked, “Please just…tell me it’s absolutely Westley’s and not Paul’s.”

“Six weeks,” you sighed, watching her shoulders relax. There was no mistaking who the baby’s father was, and at least that brought you some comfort, “Definitely Westley’s.”

Though you weren’t sure if that made it any better.

“I just want you to know it’s going to be okay,” Micah reassured you, reaching over to rub at your forearm. But did she really know that? How could she? Because to you, it felt like the earth had fallen out of orbit, spinning dizzily now with no signs of stopping any time soon. “I know we don’t have the most space right now, but the couch turns into a futon. It’s yours until you find something otherwise, you know that.”

Telling Eddie his world was (potentially) about to change happened two weeks later. You needed some time to process, is what you’d told yourself was the reason why you’d delayed. After hours of debating, you decided to keep it, and knew that there was always the chance Eddie didn’t want kids — always the chance he’d want to pretend it never happened and that he didn’t want to be a part of its life. Regardless of what he chose, you’d set your mind on being a mother, and you’d do it alone if you had to. But he at least deserved to know; deserved the option of choosing them, even if all you’d had was a night fueled by lust, because you weren’t interested in anything more than that.

Fear had clamped your mouth shut, preventing you from forming those two words for fourteen days. Just two simple words that would have opened the dam to let in the floodgates for the conversation that needed to happen.

Eddie, I’m pregnant.

Eddie, I’m pregnant.

I’m pregnant.

You’d rehearsed it all afternoon, pacing a certifiable hole in the ground from how rapidly you’d moved. Had even stood in front of your friends and had them listen to it until you felt confident enough to do it for real. Gripped Micah’s hand tight as you swiped the man’s number from your pocketbook and dialed. It rang once, then twice, and you worried he wouldn’t answer or you’d caught him at a bad time when the line exploded with sound. Voices. Dozens of voices spilled through the other line, and music along with it.

You winced. “Uhm, Eddie? Is this the right number?”

A long pause extended, drowned out by guitar strings and drum beats. “Uh — uh, yeah. This is him.”

He sounded gruffer than you remembered — voice tinged with a smokier quality that seemed almost unfamiliar to you now. Not that you’d spoken much that night. Maybe he’d caught something, maybe he was sick. Maybe it was merely the weeks that had grown on since you’d seen him, and he'd become another person in the crowd already — someone you knew if only for a night. Heart pounding, you gripped Micah’s hand tighter and wound the phone wire around a pointed fingertip.

“Hi…I’m sorry I’m only calling now. Busy, you know?” A lie, because you’d never intended to call. It had been one night; that was all it was ever meant to be. “It’s the…girl from the party. The Buttercup to your Westley costume on Halloween.”

He chuckled in reply, and you wondered if maybe he was shy. He’d been looser the night you met — louder. Boisterous and passionate. Carefree and fun. But you wondered briefly if that was the glass of whiskey he’d drunk before you slipped away to his hotel room hearing him now. But you remembered that next morning, too; his splendid affection, the kissing, the exuberance of his persona, the way he’d made you fall apart around him again.

It seemed…strange now. Cut off, cold even.

“I’m…pregnant. I just —” You swallowed the knot of fear forming in the back of your throat and continued, “I just thought you should know…because it’s yours.”

There was another prolonged pause.

Nervousness welled up in your throat the longer it continued. Joined that roiling nausea that had become your friend and foe these weeks. Swallowing thickly, your fingers pressed over the span of your abdomen, over the knitted sweater and skin protecting your tiny secret — still not visible to others yet, but wholly your own all the same. You’d already decided you would love them fiercely enough for the both of you if he didn’t want anything to do with it, just so they’d never feel like they were missing out.

Then, after what felt like decades, he asked, “Who is this again?”

You repeated your name, nervousness rattling your bones, fingers trembling in Micah’s. Micah mouthed out ‘Breathe,’ even though you were doing anything but.

The line went dead, and your heart along with it.

——

let me know what you think! 🩷

#lunaloveseddie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfiction

[amomentsescape]

I'm dead, its finals for the semester at my school. Could you do a different slashers x reader were the reader has finals and is burnt out, emotional, and overwhelmed and they hate to see the reader that way and maybe some even get mad at the school for causing this and do somthing about it like making it shut down for a while?

Slashers with Stressed! Reader During Finals Week

A/N: Thank you so much for the request! Please, make sure to take care of yourself during this time. I wish you the best of luck on your finals! :)

Freddy Krueger

Anything but smiling is basically a no-go in his book

The fact that he also hasn't seen you in a while only makes him more frustrated

He's aware of the all-nighters you've been pulling recently

Your head buried in numerous books and pages

He decides enough is enough and shows up in your world instead

Your desk is a mess, and he can see the slight puffiness under your eyes from your most recent breakdown

Yeah, he needs to end this

He gives you a reassuring hug and disappears again

He finally comes back about an hour later, a smile on his face

"There won't be school for a while"

You look at him confused

However, all the lack of sleep was catching up with you, so you don't argue as he leads you to bed, tucking yourself under the sheets

The next morning, you wake up to several notifications on your phone, all of them saying that several students were found dead in their beds last night

The whole school was going to be shut down for a while as an investigation ensues

You could practically hear Freddy's laugh echo in your mind

Michael Myers

He doesn't understand why you're so stressed out

It's just a few tests

If they're bothering you so much, just skip them

But as he watches your desperate attempt to explain why you have to take them and everything that's on the line if you don't, he finally gives up

He hates seeing you so upset about something so trivial

So he heads out that night while you're snoozing on the desk, having passed out on accident

You finally wake up a couple hours later, you eyes slowly adjusting to Michael in front of you

He's changing out of his dirty clothes, trying carefully not to wake you

However, when he notices you looking at him confused, he just walks over to you

In his hands, the bloody school ID's from every single one of your professors

Jason Voorhees

Jason has been practically begging you to go to sleep or eat SOMETHING

But you keep refusing him, too overwhelmed at the amount of studying you have to do

You are hoping that by using every possible minute you have, you'll be able to at least pass these finals

But Jason feels like you're just torturing yourself

So while you're drowning out the world with your headphones, Jason is slipping out to your school

He somehow manages to destroy most of the campus's electrical supply

This gives you a couple extra days to prepare and actually take care of yourself

When you find out the news, you can't help but jump onto Jason

He's just happy to finally see a smile on your face

Thomas Hewitt

You had to explain just what a final was and how it affects you by not passing

He understands why you're so stressed now, but it doesn't make the situation any better in his opinion

He tries to tend to you as much as possible

Drinks, food, back rubs, blankets, etc.

Literally anything that he feels would make you comfortable in the moment, he brings to you

Will stay up with you too, waiting for the minute you need something

He really enjoys taking care of you too, so none of it feels like a chore

As much as he would like to make dinner out of your professors for overwhelming you this much, he knows that it would only stress you out more

Plus, he's confident you'll do well on your finals!

You are the smartest person he knows, honestly

Bubba Sawyer

He's also completely at your beck and call

He doesn't feel comfortable leaving home on his own, so he doesn't know how to help get rid of the source of your stress

But he's very much willing to alleviate it as much as he can

He makes you dinner, prepares some warm tea, and even gets the fireplace going for you

He also tries to clean and tidy up the area around you, hoping it will help you focus more

He's never taken an exam before, but he definitely knows it's important to you

And what matters to you, matters to him

He shushes everyone who walks by just a little too loud, earning a couple laughs from you

He does pull you away from the desk every once in a while though, making you lie down with him and cuddle

He assures you that taking breaks is good for you, but you're starting to think the cuddles are more for him than you

Brahms Heelshire

Grades were pretty important to his parents growing up, so he understands the pressure

But taking 5 huge exams in the span of a week?

That's actually ridiculous

Will play some classical music for you, telling you that it always helped him focus when he was younger

Will be a little more lenient about you following the rules

But he still expects you to give him attention

If he feels you haven't given him enough affection in the past hour, he will be all up in your business like a neglected cat

He isn't helping your focus much unfortunately

But he eventually makes a deal with you to help you study

This way, you're still using your time wisely, and Brahms is still receiving your attention

Will ask you questions from flashcards to see if you're answering them correctly

Gives you a kiss every time you get one right

He honestly has full faith that you'll do great on your finals

Norman Bates

Norman is trying his best to relax you, holding you tight while you explain your worries and frustrations

But the moment he hears your voice break and sees the tears running from your eyes, his memory goes blank

All he remembers is feeling an intense rage settle into his body

Not at you, but at your school for making you feel this way

He finally comes to a few hours later

It's already dark out, and he's standing over your sleeping form lying on the couch

He tucks you in quietly and helps tidy up your papers a bit

When you wake up the next morning, you have different notifications from your school and fellow classmates

You pull up a news report stating that the school was basically in shambles, and they even found a body of one of the professors in an empty classroom

This meant that your tests were going to be pushed off for a while until they sorted everything out

Norman looks just as confused as you do

"It's okay, dear. You should go back to sleep, okay?"

You simply nod and tuck yourself back in, thankful that you have some time to finally rest

Billy Loomis

Billy has thought this through for a while

Because he's also needing to take finals with you

He kind of just shrugs them off, being fortunate enough to ace every test he's ever taken, with or without studying

But you on the other hand, were barely holding yourself together

You were basically surviving on just caffeine and adrenaline, the fear of failing being enough to keep you awake late into the night

Now, as much as Billy would love to kill off half the school's population, he knew better

Graduating was important to you, and he didn't want to risk prolonging that

So he went with plan B

He threatened the school

He did the second best thing he knew how to do, and that was making a phone call and telling the school that if professors or students showed up during the next two days, they were going to end up killed

This was enough to put everything in lockdown for a few days

How he managed to not get traced was unbeknownst to you

But you were still incredibly thankful, finally relaxing in his arms for the first time in days

Stu Macher

Now Stu didn't really think this through like Billy had

He just went in for plan A

He didn't want to take these tests either!

But he also didn't want to put in a lot of work to prevent them

He just wanted to stay by your side as much as possible, hating to see you so worked up over these finals

So he did the "bare minimum" in his words

He went to school, killed a couple teachers, cut the phone lines and major electrical units, and went on his merry way

And of course, the school was immediately shut down as a huge investigation ensued

But Stu was happy with his decision

Now, he could spend the next few days with you AND see you relaxed for once

It was a win-win

Although murder may not have been your first option, you still gave him a big kiss as compensation

Eric Draven

Of course Eric being Eric, murder is not the first solution in his book

He's taken plenty of finals in his day

He knows the pressure and the stress

And as much as he hated seeing you this way, he knew that the storm would blow over soon

But that's not to say he can't make you as comfortable as possible during it

He dug out an old heating pad and gave it to you, happy to see the wide smile you showed him once you grabbed it

He also lit a few of your favorite candles, trying to keep the atmosphere as relaxing as possible

He ordered take out for you both, got you your favorite drink, and even played some good studying music for you

He knew he wasn't going to be able to prevent you from pulling an all-nighter, so it only made sense for him to join you!

He ended up turning the whole night into one big study sleepover

He even helped you stay organized and provided a few study techniques that always worked for him

He's truly the perfect man to have by your side during this time

#slashers x reader #slasher preference #slashers headcanon #slashers preference #slashers #michael myers headcanons #michael myers x reader #michael myers #halloween #halloween movie #jason voorhees headcanons #jason voorhees x reader #jason voorhees #friday the 13th #friday the thirteenth #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #texas chainsaw massacre #the texas chainsaw massacre #brahms heelshire x reader #brahms heelshire #brahms heelshire headcanon #the boy 2016 #billy loomis x reader #billy loomis headcanon #billy loomis #stu macher x reader #stu macher #stu macher headcanons #scream movie

[90ekz]

HANDY(WO)MAN

connie springer x fem!black!reader

in which: connie never lets you jerk him off, and you show him what he’s missing.

tags: hand kink, bondage/shibari, sub!connie, black feminine reader, nicknames (princess, baby, ma), snowballing (im sorry.)

notes: been gone so long and my first fic back is about this bum :/ i missed y’all tho lol

“pleaseeee con! this would be a dream come true!” you beg to connie as your head rests in his lap. he makes a face as you mention this fact, still not understanding the appeal in all this.

see, in your almost year of dating, connie has never let you touch his cock with your hands. blowjobs? he welcomes them, just no hands. titfucking? great, take your bra off, but handjobs? he’ll get all red in the face and lock himself in the bathroom for hours if you even get close to it.

you can’t pull off his pants for him, or put your hand on his thigh, or tug him by his belt—yeah, he’s that squeamish.

“why are you so obsessed with jacking me off anyway? we do everything else in bed already—“

“exactly! we do everything else kinky in the damn world, just lemme give you a handjob, boy.” you flick the middle of his forehead lightly, watching as a blush spreads across his cheeks. you really wanted to go through with this, and he could tell.

to be clear, connie is by no means shy about sex or his own dick, considering the things you two have done in bed. despite this…

handjobs scared him.

it isn’t the act of getting one, so much as it is his fear of cumming as soon as your pretty little nails wrap around his cock. your hands were his weakness. whenever you touch him, he has to run to the bathroom just to keep from ruining his pants in front of you.

connie eyes your hands that are currently playing with the strings of his sweatpants. you’re giving him those doe eyes that you know he can’t resist, and his cock is already hardening in his pants.

“only if you want to, of course. but ya know… don’t knock it ‘till ya try it.”

“…you’re real annoying, you know that? fine, do your thing.” he smirks down at you as your own smile widens, and you spring up and begin to pepper kisses along his cheeks and neck, whispering to him how much he’s gonna love this.

somehow, none of that begging prepared for what you had in store for him.

“baby, are you sure all of this is necessary? this is… a lot for just a handjob..”

connie felt his cheeks rapidly heating as you tied not only his hands, but his arms flush against his back as well. he could barely move his upper half, due to the nature of the ropes. they extended all the way up to his biceps, and looped around to his waist and chest in a way that restricted most of his movement.

he’d always loved bondage in bed, and this was a bit excessive for his tastes, but he couldn’t complain with the way your eyes were twinkling with excitement.

“i gotta make sure you don’t try to ‘run’ like you claim i always do. you gon’ take this shit.” you lay your head on his waistband, trying not to sound condescending as he turns red.

you start slow, your hands run along his bare chest a bit first, eventually moving down his abs. the sight of your fresh set of acrylics (that he paid for; what a man) with a “C” in cursive on your middle finger sliding down his body made his dick throb.

your hands were perfect to connie. he adored everything, the size, your knuckles that were a few shades darker than the rest, your nails—even when you let them grow out a little too long, the rings that decorate them, it all just made him so weak.

at first (much to his displeasure), you just massage him through his underwear, letting him adjust to the feeling first. he lets out a few grunts and his arms instinctively buck against the restraints.

“…ma, you gon’ joystick my shit all day or you gon’ get to work?”

“don’t be a queen. i’m having my fun, so just sit back and enjoy princess.” you hold in a laugh at the whine that slips out of his mouth because of the nickname. you rotate your palm against the head of his cock, still not bothering to take off his ethikas just yet.

connie’s breath comes in a little sharper when you repeat this motion, which makes you smile. he was reacting just as you wanted him to. he takes a deep breath just as you slip your hand under his waistband and tug at the base of his cock.

“haah—oh fuck!” his hips snap into your grip as you properly jerk his cock now. you tug his underwear down, and smile when he springs to life.

meanwhile, connie is trying to find any excuse to not focus on the way your hands were pleasing him. you begin to find your rhythm and he’s making sounds you’d never heard from him before. you were doing this shit on purpose, hell, your nails were done and scraping his thighs, your fingers accessorized with golden rings on each finger and currently adding a whole new feeling to the motion on his cock.

your movements were slow and deliberate, yet so fucking good.

“oouuu shit—slow d-down!”

“‘m not even going fast, con.” you chuckled, completely enamored by your boyfriends moans. you run your teeth against the skin of his neck, your free hand holding his jaw in place. you wanted him to see what he’d been missing all this time.

connie’s eyes squeeze shut with every stroke on his sensitive dick, but you reminded him to focus. there was something so embarrassing about this compared to everything else the two of you did in bed, yet he couldn’t put his finger on it.

all that was on his mind was: “don’t cum, don’t cum, don’t cum.”

your thumb grazes over his slit and suddenly he’s forgetting all of his previous thoughts, spurts of cum shooting out of his tip all over your hands.

“awww, there you go baby, that’s it…” you peppered his face with kisses through his orgasm. you were a bit surprised, since you didn’t even notice how close he was to cumming. connie twitches in your grasp as overstimulation sets heavy in his bones.

“okay—okayyyy, baby! too much, shitshitshitshit-“

you giggled as you released him, watching his abdomen twitch with the waves of his orgasm rolling over him. a smug grin rested on your face as he came down, rolling his eyes when he caught you looking at him.

“don’t.”

“bae, look at my hand! you liked ittttt.”

you had a point—your fingers were completely covered in your boyfriends load, now dripping onto his lap. he’d never cum that much before, you were honestly impressed. you licked a small stripe onto your tongue before pressing your lips against his. connie gasped against your mouth with wide eyes before relaxing, his tongue swirling around yours.

you pulled away, watching the blush bloom on his face.

“ewww, nigga you gay. you just ate nut!” connie smacks his lips dramatically, exclaiming that it was your fault.

“you ain’t never jackin’ me off ever again.”

#connie springer #connie smut #aot connie #aot x chubby reader #aot imagines #aot smut #aot fanfiction #connie imagine #connie x black reader #aot x black reader #aot x black y/n #aot x you #connie x you #connie x black y/n #aot fluff #aot #aot anime #aot x female reader #he’s so silly #and i just love him #my dominican king #i promise the nut eating part was an accident #it just happened :/ #I write a lot of hand kink things are u catching on yet ?

[thexianzhoujade]

「 sugar cookies | fanfiction 」 wriothesley x gn!reader | fluff, modern!au | valentines fanfiction. ↳ additional tags. established relationship, potentially ooc wrio, a tiny bit suggestive? baking, not proofread as of right now !! ↳ happy valentines, loves !! ♡

data has been uploaded! @soleillunne, @dumbificat, @lovingluxury, @starryshinyskies, @ryuryuryuyurboat, @ainescribe

the jade's guidelines | genshin masterlist | send an ask to join the jade's taglist! specify genshin, honkai or both

with the temperatures now starting to pick up in fontaine, WRIOTHESLEY is fully aware of what holiday is to come. how could he not be? the pink and red merchandise plastered in every shop window, cute cartoon hearts decorating usually ordinary packaging and of course the sweet - but suffocating - scent of roses the moment he enters a supermarket.

winter beginning to fade out only meant one thing... valentines day. as someone who works fairly remotely and only converses with prisoners on the daily of the city's local prison, wriothesley never had a reason to celebrate valentines day. in fact, he would sometimes be caught sneering at the obnoxious colour scheme every time february wrapped around. he'd even go as far as turning his head away, wishing for anything but the twenty-four hours to pass over.

that was until just under a year ago. under the peer pressure of a few friends - namely clorinde and navia, out of the goodness of their hearts, - he'd decided that maybe blind dating wasn't so bad. his tiring routine he'd burned into his mind was beginning to make his body and mind both ache equally as much and all he was starting to think about was a change in his life.

wriothesley was perfectly locked into his habit of waking up early, working at the prison, commuting home and going straight back to sleep but... where's the fun in that? and as navia had quite teasingly stated, he was starting to waste his life away as a workaholic.

that's where he met you, after all. someone who turned a blind eye to the awful schedule of his work rota and that growing collection of different teas he stashed in his kitchen cupboards. in turn, the growing collection was now tucked neatly in your shared kitchen cupboards instead.

now he had a reason to stare at the brightly coloured gifts and cheesy slogans, taking every single factor about you into consideration when it came to the smallest things about valentines; including the card, yes. it took wriothesley an hour and navia's quiet begging for him to choose a card for you, his first valentine. at least, the first one he'd ever cared to delve this far into valentines gifts for.

"you're hopeless," navia whines under her breath as the two exit the store, opening the iced coffee she'd purchased from the chilled section (and i quote, how else was she going to put up with him?), "i didn't think i'd ever see you take valentines this seriously."

her comment perks his attention from his phone, where'd he been texting none other than you whilst you was on your break at work. he makes a noise before chuckling, deep and hearty as he adjusts his tie awkwardly. there's a heat creeping his neck as he clears his throat, eyes darting anywhere but the fashionable blonde as she sips her aforementioned iced coffee with a smug smirk.

"yeah, well - i don't care," he retorts boldly and navia almost spits her coffee out, giggling behind her hand as she covers her lipgloss coated lips for some form of dignity, "sometimes i wonder why i'm still friends with you?"

"rude. anyways, i'm the reason your social circle is so big now. i'm glad i don't have to watch you work yourself to death anymore." navia sighs, shaking her head as the conversation takes a vulnerable turn for the both of them. wriothesley can't deny that despite how much they bicker from siblings, she's always cared for him with good intentions. there's a moment of him debating how clorinde bagged such a kind-hearted girl before he almost makes himself chuckle at the thought.

large calloused hands rummage in the reusable bag you'd shoved into his chest before you hurried out of the door for work this morning, mindlessly checking over all the gifts and ingredients he'd acquired with a slight break in his bank account. your boss had called you in for the morning, already throwing a spanner in the works of your valentines day preparations however they promised you'd be free before lunch - which meant the baking you'd been so excited for could still go ahead, according to plan.

later that day, in the midst of wriothesley fumbling around in the kitchen cupboards as if he was lost in his house, you arrived home. that shift had been less than ideal, adding onto your frustration of being called into work in the first place. yet the grin that etches onto your partner's stubbled face draws you from that frustration; it calms you, eases you into the comfort of his burly arms when you rest your head against his chest and forget your worries.

"work was that bad?" wriothesley's voice murmurs in your ear and you can barely stifle a nod, nuzzling against the warmth radiating through his clothes as he chuckles, pressing a kiss to your head.

"that bad," you mumble in response, sighing as you force yourself to pull away from your boyfriend's hypnotising hold before you fall asleep standing up, "time to bake out my anger - what recipe did you end choosing?"

"sugar cookies," wriothesley seems quite proud of his choice, a calloused hand gesturing towards the numerous multicoloured sprinkles he'd prepared on the kitchen counter - knowing him, that could be very well the only ingredients he brought, "you know, with that heart cookie cutter you begged for the other week?"

a playful scoff leaves your lips, a gentle hit of your hand against his shoulder as you brush past him, rolling your sleeves up to your elbows so that you can start the tedious process you'd signed yourself up for on this fateful valentines day. the soft hum of wriothesley reverberates around the kitchen of your shared home, sunlight filtering in through the kitchen window and basking in the potted plants you'd decorated the windowsill with.

your friends had been dubious about you moving in so soon with wriothesley but you knew only a few months in that you would trust this man with your life. despite his gruff, solemn demeanour, wriothesley was in your eyes perhaps more akin to a deflated puppy from all his years working in the prison, lacking social experience outside of the prisoners and co-workers he'd dip into conversation with daily.

strong arms wrap around your waist whilst you're busy measuring out ingredients, your eyes narrowed in focus as your gaze darts between the electronic weighing scales and the flour in your unsteady hands as wriothesley takes to wrapping himself like a koala around your body; he's inseparable from you, unable to stay away for mere moments as if you'll disappear if he doesn't have his rough hands somewhere on your soft body.

"i'm trying to focus..." you huff under your breath, biting your tongue as wriothesley rests his chin on your shoulder, watching your precision intently as the warmth of his breath tickles against your neck. it makes your hairs stand on end but not as much as the gentle kiss he presses to your exposed shoulder. you almost elbow him in the ribs for the minor distraction.

"i can see that," he chides with a grin, brushing his stubble against your skin and you really can't say no when a trail of kisses litters your skin from your shoulder to your collarbone and neck, "happy valentines day, darling."

"happy valentines day," you sigh softly, giving up on your endeavour to measure ingredients successfully under these circumstances. you place the opened bag of flour down, leaning back onto his chest in defeat, "i hope you choke on these sugar cookies later."

wriothesley chuckles, his thumbs rubbing rhythmic patterns on your hips where his hands are positioned, holding onto you tightly to stop some manic villain possibly ever stealing you; hey, it's possible! the man lets out a content exhale, appreciative of the warm comfort you give him outside of the gruelling job he'd thrown himself into for a living, "i love you, i really do."

⊹˚₊‧───────────────‧₊˚⊹

© thexianzhoujade 2024. | do not re-upload, copy, translate, etc. my works on any form of media.

#( sealed letters ) #© thexianzhoujade #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin #wriothesley x reader #genshin wriothesley #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #wriothesley

[hyperactively-me]

boots

He sensed your weariness, gently adjusting his position to allow you to lean against him for support. His strong arms wrap around you, providing a comforting embrace you gladly welcomed. Your fists bunch up his shirt as you hug him, pressing your cheek against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat calmed you, your eyes growing heavy with sleep.

you’re in a secret relationship with ghost, and its after hours after a long day of training and a mission, you’re super tired, so he helps you undress.

warnings: none

To say you were exhausted was an understatement. You felt like you could fall asleep standing up. The day's intense training alongside a somewhat “easy” mission had taken its toll on your body and mind. You were up before dawn, training in the few hours before the mission was set to take place. From there, you had immediately changed into your gear, and it had remained on all day. It’s now well past midnight, you’re still carrying all your gear on your person. You had immediately gone back to your room the moment you touched down back at the base, not bothering to take off any of your gear. Seeing your bed had you nearly teary eyed. You let yourself fall back on your bed, staring up at the ceiling, eyes closing as sleep nearly had its hold on you. 

A quiet knock had startled you from your sleepy state, your reflexes still sharp. You sit up immediately and groan, rolling your eyes as you stand up. God, you just wanted, needed, to sleep. You trudge to the door reluctantly, dragging your feet with every step. When you had slipped your door open, you were greeted by Ghost. 

You immediately tear up at the sight of him, tired out of your mind, frustrated that you still had to undress and put everything away. 

“Simon,” you nearly whimper, pressing yourself against him. You hated the way your gear was digging into you, creating unnecessary space between you and Ghost.

He sensed your weariness, gently adjusting his position to allow you to lean against him for support. His strong arms wrap around you, providing a comforting embrace you gladly welcomed. Your fists bunch up his shirt as you hug him, pressing your cheek against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat calmed you, your eyes growing heavy with sleep.

“Don’t fall asleep on me now, love,” he whispers, ushering you towards your bed. He helps you sit on the edge of your bed, your frame hunched over.

“It's been a long day,” Ghost whispered, his voice a soft murmur in your ear. “Let me take care of you.”

An appreciative grin pulled at the edges of your lips as he drew closer to you, feeling safe in his company. He bends down on one knee, hands reaching to untie your combat boots with a gentleness he reserved only for you. He slips both of your boots off your feet, then rolls down your socks, slipping them off. Next, he reaches for your hands, slipping your gloves delicately off your hands. He rubs the flesh of your palm, massaging it slightly. Finally, he reaches up to remove the heaviest part of your outfit, your tac vest. You shift your arms slightly, allowing him to reach behind you as he releases the velcro, the removal of the weight of the vest already having an astronomical effect on your body. You sigh in relief as the weight is removed, rolling out your shoulders with a groan. 

Immediately you let yourself fall backwards on your bed, hands coming up to rub your heavy eyes.

“Simon,” you whisper. He stills for a moment before standing up to lay down right next to you. 

“Thank you.”

He doesn’t say anything, letting the silence of the room swallow him. 

“Your support means the world to me,” you mutter, turning on your side to face him. 

He’s still staring up at the ceiling, his hands crossed over his chest. He takes a breath, then turns to look at you. He studies your face for a moment, hand coming up to gently trace your cheek.

“We're in this together," he whispered, his eyes locking onto yours with unwavering sincerity.

The weight of his words make you feel at ease, and you pull him into you. You rake your hands through his hair slowly, lethargically. 

His head comes up to rest against your chest, the gentle rise and fall of his breathing pressing against you as your fingers continue to trace soothing patterns through his hair.

“I love you,” you murmur.

Ghost looks up at you, his eyes reflecting the depth of his feelings. “I love you," he replied, his voice genuine.

You were immediately pulled into sleep’s sweet embrace, clutching onto your love like a lifeline. He pulls you closer as he succumbs to sleep, pulling you into him like nothing else in the world matters.

#*ੈ✩ simon “ghost” riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #cod #call of duty reader insert #call of duty #ghost #simon “ghost” riley #fluff #ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley imagine #ghost imagine #hyperactivelyme

[my-writings-and-musings]

Continuing to break through my slump with more indulgent fics! Here's some Starscream x Reader in response to some earlier polls, where our beloved Seeker has just become a sire to three precious bitlets. As reader gets some much needed sleep, Starscream admires the triplets.

He'd been terrified of the diagnosis at first, for both your sakes, but had recovered quickly and even made a point to brag when telling others the news. There were few who could recall the last time a Cybertronian managed to kindle with an organic, but none would forget his success after spending a mere minute in his company. It was about what one might expect from Starscream, especially with how he went on and on about how your progeny would be the start of a glorious Cybertronian legacy without equal. You'd actually found his enthusiasm both sweet and comforting.

Then came the scan that revealed you were expecting triplets.

He'd fainted upon the medic's pronouncement, though claimed upon waking he'd merely lost his balance. Seeing three separate sparks nourished by your own heartbeat had been quite shocking for you as well, and you'd needed his support once he came to. Thankfully, it had been provided then and every moment after, which had made those long months that followed a great deal easier to endure. Cravings were much easier to handle when you had someone capable of traversing the continent in mere hours to fetch them.

Now that the longest day of your lives so far was done, all the work had been rewarded with three perfect little bundles, and the Seeker had yet to take his optics off you or them. Such constant supervision had allowed you to drift off into a much needed slumber in the company of your equally sleepy bitlets.

Watching your sleeping form like a father hawk, Starscream slowly moved his gaze over the sparklings snoozing between the two of you, his much larger frame across from yours and leaning forward like a protective wall. He didn't dare sleep while you finally rested, despite being thoroughly exhausted himself. It had taken hours for the triplets to arrive, and while they'd come as smoothly as one could hope, the toll on your body had been considerable. Primus only knew how you hadn't fallen asleep as soon as the bundled newborns were lain in your arms.

One of the seekerlets trilled softly, and he reflexively dipped his helm to check on them, unable to help being paranoid. The newborn only made another quiet coo before nuzzling their rounded helm back into the nest, fluttering the stubs of their wings as they drifted back to sleep. His spark warmed at the sight as he welcomed a fresh burst of pride. All three were incredibly tiny for now, but with time and care, they would grow to be his equal in size and strength. Your genetic influence would also show itself in equal time, influencing their abilities in ways Ratchet had explained could not be predicted. Primus, he just couldn't wait to see...

Another tiny sound startled him back into active alert, and he leaned down once more to check on the group, optics scanning for any sign of distress. The bitlet that had made the noise only cracked open a sleepy optic and yawned, stubby servos smushing against their ample cheeks as they adjusted themselves in the nest with a tired squirm. As he watched them settle back to sleep, Starscream had to bite his lip to avoid making a sound at the painfully adorable antics. He'd known that they would be cute, but Primus, these little ones were precious beyond reason.

Spotting a microscopic flaw in the blankets, he adjusted it with the precision of a surgeon, wanting to be absolutely sure that you and the sparklings were covered. Once you all were secure and cozy, he allowed himself a moment to drink it all in: you, your sparklings; a little unexpected family he'd made by accident. It was more than he deserved, but he'd never let anyone lay a hand on you or your precious bundles. Every ounce of his strength would forevermore be dedicated to your safety.

Laying himself on his side, he stretched out an arm to encircle the lot of you with his bulk, the gentle sound of your breathing tempting him to sleep. He resisted, and used the closeness to tenderly brush his digits over a sleeping sparklings chubby cheeks. The warm softness of their mesh was enough to crack his spark, but the little one's reflexive cuddle into his touch absolutely shattered it. A single, joyful tear fell to the berth as his sparkling snuggled into his palm and pulled him closer.

When you woke, you wouldn't have to ask for anything ever again. It was the least he could do for three of the most precious gifts he'd ever known.

#transformers #maccadam #earthspark #transformers earthspark #tf earthspark #transformers: earthspark #tf #starscream #starscream x reader #x reader #tf x reader #sparklings #bot/human babies

[sarawritestories]

Starfall with the General (Bonus Part)

Cassian X Fem Reader

Summary: 5 years later Starfall looks a little different for the members of the Night Court, especially for The General and his mate.

Part 1 Part 2

A/N: this was simply an idea that struck me in the shower so enjoy the final installment of Starfall with the General

Warnings: none, this is as fluffy as it can get. It's not proofread.

Word Count:1885

Standing in front of the mirror you smile at your reflection. The dress you wore still fits even years later. Mor comes into your room and smiles, “I haven't seen that dress in ages.” The hairpin and necklaces deigning your neck made her smirk. “He's going to swoon.” Mor kissed your cheek as little feet padded from the bathroom causing you both to look in that direction.

“Auntie!” Violet, your 4 year old jumped into Mor's awaited arms. Spinning her around causing the young Illyrian to giggle. You smile at the sight your daughter wore a red dress with tulle and sequins that complimented her little wings and matched Mor’s signature red look. “I look just like you.”

Mor’s eyes beamed, “You sure do Vi, I am going to see what Uncle Az is doing we’ll see you soon okay?” the young girl nodded and Mor tapped her cheek as Violet kissed her and set her down to exit the room.

Having Violet was a blessing for you and Cassian, Nesta who in the midst of saving Feyre when she was in Labor with Nyx had also adjusted your anatomy to accommodate wings. You had tightly embraced the eldest Archeron sister for her wonderful gift. Cassian followed it up by scooping us both in his arms. Only a few months after that did Madja provide you with the good news you were with child. The pregnancy went smoothly and Cassian was with you every step of the way.

Cassian was a fierce warrior, a wonderful friend, and the most attentive mate, however, all that pales in comparison to how exquisite he was at being a father. The first time she had cried in the middle of the night he forced you to lay back down, whispering in your ear, “Let me.” With that he sat on the chair skin-to skin with your babe, telling the story of how he had met you for the first time and how he fell in love with you. The sight brought tears to your eyes and you awoke the next morning to the two of them in the chair. An image you shared with Feyre and had her paint to give to Cassian as a solstice gift that year.

The first time Violet had a nightmare Cassian stormed into her room you in tow and saw her tear-stained eyes and Cassian’s heart shattered. He spent an hour fighting off imaginary monsters causing the little one to giggle and you saw his face light up at the sound. Then the 3 of you padded back to your and Cassian’s shared room where he held on to both of you tightly wings shielding the night breeze.

“Well doesn’t my niece look beautiful,” Rhys’ voice pulled you from your thoughts as Violet’s face lit up to see her favorite Uncle. Nyx in tow behind him. Rhys bent down arms ready as Violet ran to hug him. The high lord stood still holding your child his eyes met yours and he eyed the outfit his gaze lingering on the necklace he got you all those years ago. He took in the dress and smiled.

“Mommy, looks pretty doesn’t she Uncle Rhysie.” Rhys’ gaze turned to the small child in his arms his violet eyes meeting her Hazel ones and lightly flicked her nose another giggle erupting.

“She does, I think your Daddy is also going to agree.” Rhys set her down and she immediately ran to Nyx as the two began to play. Rhys held out his arm, you walked over and you looped yours through his and you all made you way to the ballroom.

You giggled as Nyx tried to mimic his father and loop his arms with Violet’s but before he could she would run off and he would chase after her. “In the forest that day you found me,” Rhys stiffened but remained quiet, “I thought I was destined to be miserable that I would never get the chance at happiness and peace.”

Rhys with his free hand gripped yours and gave it a comforting squeeze. You continued, “I wish I could go back and tell her how happy I am now. I have that peace and a loving family that my life has been nothing short of amazing.”

The four of you reach the doors of the ballroom, Rhys releases your arm and turns to you pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. “I am so happy you joined our family, Y/N, I love you.”

You return the embrace, “I love you too, now lets not keep the loves of our lives waiting shall we?” you pull away and swipe the stray tears from the High Lord’s eyes.

“Kids, you want to open the doors?” Rhys asks looking over to the two small children. Their eyes light up and Nyx picks up Violet so she can reach the handles and they open the door revealing the party in full swing.

Nyx sets Violet down and it doesn’t take her long to find the one person she is looking for in the crowd. She sprints into the ballroom, “Daddy!”

The sound of his name causes Cassian to stop his conversation with Feyre to find his daughter in the crowd. In the perfect moment bends down as she tackles into him almost pushing him off balance. The way he holds her makes your heart swell. He has his wings tucked comfortably his hair in a half up bun you always enjoy and in his signature black dress shirt and pants. He whispers in your daughters ear as he looks up no doubt looking for you. His eyes meet yours and his smile gives you butterflies.

You and Rhys walk towards your mates as Nyx already was at his mother’s hip. Feyre took sight of your dress and her eyes gleamed with mischief. Cassian still holding your daughter planted a kiss to your cheek. His breath grazed over the shell of your ear, “Well don’t you look beautiful, Sweetheart. I have very fond memories of this dress.”

You giggle as you do a twirl the black lace twirling with you, the red rubies in your hair and around your neck shining in the fae light. Cassian’s eyes gleamed as he watched you showcase the same dress and accessories you wore on the Starfall you found out you were mates.

“Mommy looks like a princess,” Violet nodded her head in approval.

Cassian looked at her, “I agree, but so do you,” the music changed to a slower song and Cassian put Violet down and held out his hand, “May I have the honor of a dance, Your Highness,” Violet smiled wide and nodded her head excitedly. Taking her father’s hand and running to the dance floor. Cassian gripped both of her hands in his and lifted her up so her feet were on his and the two began to sway.

Watching your mate dance with his little girl made you smile wide, tears glistening in your eyes. To watch them both laugh and his big smile, he must have noticed you staring because he looked up and gave you a wink that made your heart skip a beat. There was a tug on the bond urging you to come toward them. You walk to them and Violet squeals, “Mommy, dance with us!”

Cassian scoops Violet into his one arm and slips his free one around your waist pulling you closer. His scent of cedar and leather infiltrating your nose. You wrap one arm around his neck and one around Violet as the 3 of you sway to the musicians and you dance for the majority of the evening. The music shifts back to a slower song as he brings the two of you close once more, Cassian hummed in content, “My sweet Girls.” He whispered as Violet’s head laid on his shoulder as she yawned, ever the daddy’s girl. He kissed Violet’s forehead followed by yours, “How did I get so lucky?”

You smile, “I ask myself that everyday.” You lay your head on Cassian’s chest and you 3 remain like that until the music shifts into an upbeat tempo.

You pull away as everyone begins making their way to the balconies. Cassian leans closer to you, “Let’s go back to our room,” You nod in agreement and you sneak away and make your way back to the bedroom.

“Did you have fun, Princess?” Cassian asked Violet.

Violet yawned again and her eyes beginning to close, as she gave a soft, “Yeah,”

His hand was interlaced with yours as you reached your bedroom, “What about you, Sweetheart?”

You press a finger to your chin in mock thought, “I had fun but not really my favorite Starfall not yet anyway.” Cassian quirked a brow at the statement, as the three of you enter the room. As if on cue the house opens the balcony doors. You slip of your heels and wiggle your feet in the cushy carpet and you three walk outside right as the first star makes its way across the sky.

You lightly shake Violet, “Sweetie, Look up,”

Violet opens her eyes and when she sees the colors painting the sky they widened, “Wow,” she whispered.

You take a moment to look at Cassian as he looks up with Violet and your hands grip the balcony and your gaze moves to the sky above. “Out of curiosity,” You could feel Cassian’s gaze on you. “How would you feel about Violet having a sibling?” Your eyes meet his Hazel ones.

Cassian grins, “I would be happy if we could, but if we weren’t able to have a second child, I have everything I could have ever asked for right here.” Cassian kissed the side of your head, “Why do you ask?”

You give him a shy smile and drop the shield revealing your scent and his eyes go wide his wings ruffle in shock. “Really?” he whispered as Violet had fallen back asleep.

You nod and he cups your face with his free hand and kisses you tenderly. He sends wave after wave of love down the bond. He presses his forehead against yours, “Happy Starfall, Cassian. I love you.” You whisper closing your eyes at his warmth.

He lightly kisses your nose, “Happy Starfall, Y/N. I love you too.”

~few hours later~

Cassian sat in bed watching the rise and fall of his wife and daughters chest. The duo spooned together, drifting off into a soundless sleep. He took a moment to look at you the small smile that graced her features. He tucked a hair from your face and put it behind your ears. In his 500 years he never thought he would find a mate and when he found you, he thought that was the happiest he was ever going to get. Then Violet came in the picture. His gaze moved over to his daughter, she may have gotten all of Cassian’s physical features but her personality was all Mommy. Now there will be a new babe on the way and Cassian smiled as he laid down grabbing his girls and cocooning them in his wings. He whispered, “I love you three so much,” even to the babe in the womb and drifted into peaceful sleep.

#cassian acotar #cassian imagine #cassian x reader #cassian #cassian x you #acotar fanfiction #rhysand acotar #acotar #girldad!cassian x reader #girldad!cassian

[starsxblazing]

Cause and Effect (Part 3)

a/n: please excuse any proof reading mistakes because my brain is still mush after working my 40 hours this week. I was too excited to post the next chapter simply for all of your amazing responses!

You huffed in annoyance from your lack of sleep just as the sun was beginning to rise in the sky. Sleep had evaded you for the majority of the night because you just hadn’t been able to calm your mind. The happiness and excitement that you had felt just for having someone pay you some attention made you feel horrible about yourself, like you were no better than a toddler. It didn’t seem to bother the male that you had found such a sense of peace with just by being in his presence for just a few minutes.

Hope surged through you at the thought of him and found yourself praying to whatever the Fae believed in that you would see him again today. You dug through the clothes that you had been given but you didn’t have the energy to put much thought into anything. A grumble of your stomach had you completely abandoning the idea.

“Good morning,” you mumbled sleepily, still in your pajamas, when you entered the dining room with the male from the day before and Mor sitting at the table.

“Good morning,” Mor replied with a small smile. “We weren’t expecting you to be up so early.”

“I do rise early sometimes,” you chuckled as you took a seat beside her with the male sitting across from you. “But everything.. It’s hard to sleep now.”

“That’s completely understandable.” Mor rubbed your arm for a moment in a comforting manner. “We’re glad that you are out here with us.”

You gave her a small but sad smile, unsure of what to say. It was obvious that none of them knew about you and even though it hurt, you did your best not to show it. Feyre had mentioned in a conversation that you accidentally overheard that the food here was delicious and now that you had a taste, you weren’t sure if you could ever go back to normal human food. The thought had you returning to the day that you had been forced into the cauldron and realized that you didn’t know anyone’s name and most importantly, how they all were doing after injuries.

“You were hurt.” You locked eyes with the hazel ones across from you. “And your friend-”

“We’re alright,” he assured, causing you to slump in relief into your seat. “Cassian’s wings are healing as we speak.”

“I’m so glad.” You gave him a gentle smile before gazing at his wings momentarily. “I can’t imagine how much pain that you were in. I feel horrible that I didn’t even think to ask you last night.”

“It’s okay.” He gave you another genuine, small smile that earned a near silent gasp from the female beside her. “You have been through more than any of us can imagine.”

“I don’t even know your names,” you mumbled, choosing to ignore his reassurance since you were trying to avoid the thoughts of your own.

“You’ve met Mor.” He gestured towards the female beside you who simply rolled her eyes. “Cassian, as I said, was the one that was injured as well and Rhysand is our High Lord of the Night Court.”

“Oh.” It was hard to keep your mind from the horrible memories, the thoughts making your heart hurt even more now that you knew their names. “Have you heard from Feyre?”

“She will be alright and will be back as soon as she can,” Mor answered confidently. 

Your sister had obviously thrived since she had become High Fae and you couldn’t help but wonder if you or your other sisters would be able to do it as well even though you didn’t have much of a choice. A part of you wanted to adjust but at the same time, you were terrified of the life that you had been unwillingly shoved into. You were at least trying to be friendly even though Elain still refused to speak and Nesta was being her usual angry self.

You weren’t sure how to feel with everything that was going on around you but your mind began to drift back to your human life. Your favorite holiday would be arriving in a few months and you hoped that it would be something that would be accepted for the first time. Remembering that you didn’t know the male’s name, you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Are you stingy with your name?” 

“No,” he chuckled, amusement dancing in his eyes. “I’m Azriel.”

“Azriel,” you repeated, finding that you liked how it rolled so simply off of your tongue.

He seemed to like it as well due to the smile tugging at his lips but you chose to ignore it, opting to eat what you could. You could feel his gaze on you and noticed it for yourself when you glanced at him from your peripheral as Mor began to tell you what Velaris had to offer.

“It sounds beautiful,” you sighed in awe.

“I could take you.” Your eyes met Azriel’s, noting that his expression was neutral even though you felt like he deeply wanted you to agree. “The city is meant to be seen at night.”

“I would expect nothing less from The City of Starlight,” you laughed, noting an emotion in his eyes that you couldn’t place.

You listened to stories pour from Mor and your emotions turned over in a constant loop, wondering if you would fit into this tight knit family. It was something that you had never had and so desperately wanted. You hoped that now that you and your sisters were all together that the family dynamic might change, hoped that you would finally become important. Deciding to try to interact with your sisters, you gave them a small smile and a nod before going to find them.

Just as you expected, Elain was still staring blankly out of the window with Nesta in a chair in the room and reading a book. Your oldest sister’s flat stare fell on you and although you felt uncomfortable, you held your ground and held onto hope.

“How are you both doing?” you asked quietly, eyes darting between them both.

“How does it look?” she snapped, her ever snarky tone lacing through each word. 

“All of this is so hard and I want to try to help you if you would let me,” you offered, gripping your intentions with a steel grip so that you didn’t back away.

“Why don’t you go back to the male that you decided to prefer your company with?”

“Then why did you even bother to make him leave me alone!?” you exclaimed as your pain began to overwhelm you.

“Go. Away,” Nesta growled.

It took all of your self control to hold back your tears as you darted back towards your room. Loneliness, which was a feeling that you were well acquainted with, overtook all of your senses. Even though you were used to it, it hurt even worse with the circumstances that you were now in. It felt as if it was impossible to sort through without your own family's help. You could only hold onto hope that you may have found real friends with Mor and Azriel.

You stayed in your room for the rest of the day, not bothering to leave for lunch or dinner. A knock had sounded on your door after each missed meal that followed with Mor’s muffled but concerned voice sounding through the wood. You had jumped up from your bed whenever the sun began to set, remembering that you had a late afternoon with Azriel planned. It made some excitement return because you truly did love his company.

Mor was at your door once again while you were staring at your new wardrobe as if she already knew of your struggle. She laughed at your confused expression and joined you to look at the variety of the obviously expensive dresses. It was more than welcome and you decided to let her make the choice for you since you knew next to nothing about dressing up.

“This is so hard,” you whined but fell quiet at the gorgeous blue dress that she pulled out.

“What about this one?” she asked, a knowing twinkle in her eye that you didn’t understand.

“I don’t think I’ve ever worn anything so nice in my life.” You stared at it in awe and the female seemed pleased. “I love it.”

“I thought that you would.” Mor gave you a brilliant smile before directing you to the vanity. “Now let’s get something done with this beautiful hair.”

A blush rose to your cheeks at the compliment since you hadn’t received very many. You watched her work, noting every small movement that she did so that you would be able to do it for yourself at some point. The loose curls that ended up forming was something that made you feel brand new. Your eyes burned from the tears that wanted to form at the sight of yourself once you were fully dressed and staring at yourself in the mirror.

It was the prettiest that you had ever felt in your entire life and you finally felt as if you actually meant something, even if it was only a fleeting moment. You took a deep breath before you rounded the corner where Azriel was waiting in an attempt to keep your newfound confidence.

His face instantly softened when he saw you and you could feel Mor’s eyes on you from behind you. Heat rose to your cheeks once more, unaccustomed to having a male look at you in a way that didn’t mean that he only wanted to sleep with you. He guided you to the balcony, his hand barely brushing against your lower back.

“The House is warded against winnowing so we will have to fly,” he started gently, watching you with nearly invisible caution. “There is always the option of the ten thousand steps to the city but that would ruin your beautiful dress.”

“I’ve never flown before.” It was hard to speak and keep the shock from the simple compliment from your tone before eyeing his wings. “It sounds scary.”

“I promise not to drop you,” he chuckled, the noise almost inaudible.

You nodded despite your fear and focused on your excitement for the night.

Tag List:

@amara-moonlight @allygrace74 @sidthedollface2 @historygeekqueen @hnyclover @kalulakunundrum @historygeekqueen @bubybubsters @thisblogisaboutabook @mybestfriendmademe @caroline-books @justvibbinghere @wisdomofthebrain @nighttimemoonlover @cleverzonkwombatsludge @alessiazeni @rhenysz @ladespedidas @meritxellao @candyjaypoppins @carnationworld @mulansaucey @why4anne @tsibba01 @sassyangel16 @aetherl0l @wallacewillow0773638 @cherryinsalemverse @lupinswolfsbanes @amysangel @ayme301 @sassyslytherinshai @zeroangelo13 @sirens-and-moonflowers @evye47 @starcrossedsan @impossibelle @landofpetrichor @tuggboatfishin @dr4g0ngirl @one-big-fangirl @mistyheart @ang-taylorsversion @youngblood199456 @anuttellaa @thestartitaness @fxckmiup @glitterypirateduck @mika-no-sekai-blog @oucereeng @mariahoedt @sleepylunarwolf

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel

[httpiastri]

lucky charm? – al12

arthur needs your support after the feature race in austria.

genre: fluff, comfort

pairing: gender neutral!reader x arthur leclerc (i think i used the female form of a french word, but that should be the only female mention)

warning: hmmmm none!

requested: yes!

author's note: hello hello! i had bigger expectations on myself for this but i haven't been able to write a lot these last few days soooo... anyways! please forgive me if i use the wrong terms when i wrote about the dams garage and drivers room and so on, i don't really know how it all works and where people are allowed to be haha! hope u enjoy<3

f2/f3 masterlist

you feel yourself being unwillingly pulled out of your sweet sleep way too early for your liking. you could just as well just turn over and fall asleep again; the combination of the soft mattress and the fluffy hotel covers could lull anyone into a deep slumber. but just as you’re about to relax again, you hear the shuffle of socks against the carpet, followed by a thud and a quiet swear word.

you open your eyes slowly, letting them adjust to the morning light seeping in through the messily closed blinds, before they find arthur standing by the edge of the bed.

his eyes fix on you too, a guilty look spreading across his face. “did i wake you?” he asks. “i’m sorry, i dropped my phone…”

he reaches down to pick it up from the floor as you shake your head. “it’s fine,” you hum. “good morning, love.”

“good morning, ma chéri.” he flashes you a smile as he scoots over to you, pressing a kiss against your forehead.

you shut your eyes again. “why are you up so early?” you ask. “didn’t we say breakfast at seven?”

“it is seven,” arthur chuckles, but just as you’re about to sit up and scold him for not waking you up in time, he speaks again. “don’t get up, i’ve already had breakfast. you can continue sleeping.”

you frown with your eyes still closed. “what’s that supposed to mean? why-”

“i’ve been called in for an extra team meeting. they want me to meet them there in 30 minutes.”

your eyes open again, looking at your lover now sitting right by you on the bed. he’s got a hint of sadness in his eyes, and he feels another sting of guilt pass through his body.

he still looks as handsome as ever, though, and you can’t help but to let your hand cup his cheek. “when did you get up? you must be so tired.”

he shakes his head, a slight smile adorning his features; half due to the concern in your voice, half due to the love he can feel even in your touch. “we went to bed so early, i’ll be fine. you can still get another hour or so in, though.”

you pout. “i can’t sleep without you.”

arthur’s pretty laugh meets your ears. “you had no problem falling asleep while i was brushing my teeth last night, amour.” he takes your hand from his face, intertwining his fingers with yours. “but if you really don’t want to sleep any more, you could get some breakfast and then watch me get ready in the garage.”

you consider the options for a moment. “maybe i will,” you say, squeezing his hand once.

he takes your hand up to his mouth, placing a few sweet kisses to your knuckles. "my lucky charm." even more kisses. "i do unfortunately really need to go now. but i'll see you on the track?"

you nod, looking up into his eyes. "good luck, darling."

your boyfriend leans down towards you to meet your lips with his. both of you are still sleepy and it's evident in the kiss because it's lazy and slow. yet, it's filled with so so much love. when you feel him starting to pull away, you place a hand by the back of his neck to keep him close. he laughs against your skin before he manages to leave your lips – his neck muscles are apparently stronger than your hands.

"i'll see you soon again, okay?"

"mkay."

and after one last kiss, he's gone through the door, leaving you all alone in the big bed.

arthur was, as usual, quite busy right before the race.

that meant that he didn't have a lot of time to spend with you, but by now you'd learned to enjoy spending time in the dams garage, despite how different it felt to the prema garages you visited last year. you followed arthur on the tv as much as you could during the race, while also having time to chat a little with the crew every now and then.

you found it funny how it seemed like arthur and his friend ollie bearman found each other even on the track, the two of them following their former teammate through the laps and even into the pit stops.

arthur came out on the track just before ollie, which made many of the dams workers cheer. but just a short while after they left the pits, it happened. one of the few things that was not allowed to happen.

in one of the turns, not even one minute later, one of his tires flew off the car.

arthur couldn't have done anything to stop it or make the situation better. it was in no way his fault, and yet, it had all of the worst consequences for him.

thankfully, there was no crash and the tire didn't hit another driver, so it wasn't really a dangerous incident. but when arthur gets up out of the car and you can tell he's uninjured, you still let out a thankful breath you didn't know you were holding. you know this is awful, as it is any time he's forced to retire out of a race, but at least he isn't physically hurt, which was the most important to you.

a couple of minutes later, arthur arrives back in the garage, where he receives a bunch of pats on the backs and compassionate looks from team members. you are still sat on a chair a bit further into the garage, wanting to give him some space instead of approaching him, but you watch his every move carefully. his dark eyes stay aimed on the floor and he doesn't give out much more than small nods to the people trying to talk to him. he's holding his helmet in one hand, his balaclava still on and helping cover what you assumed was a regretful look.

you were so sure he wouldn't notice you, but his eyes land on you just as his hand reaches for the door to his driver's room. you kind of expect him to give you some kind of reaction. a smile, a nod, anything. but just like to everyone else, he looks away.

as he's gone through the door, you feel some kind of disappointment in the pit of your stomach. you know it's not personal, but it still pains a little to think about him treating you just like everyone else.

you wait until the race is over and the staff is busy celebrating the other dams driver's podium before making your way towards the door. after knocking on it a few times, you can hear his voice from the inside, muttering something about leaving him alone.

"arthur, can i come in?" you ask, ignoring his request.

when he hears that it's your voice seeping through the cracks of the door, he's instantly on his feet, making his way to you.

when he opens the door, you're met by an exhausted face. the balaclava is off now, lines on his face still showing where the seams had been pressing for the long race. he steps aside to let you into the room and then closes the door behind you. he sits down on the couch and you take a seat right next to him, eyes never leaving his sad ones. he's looking everywhere but at you, though, feeling way too sensitive to take in the way that you were looking at him. with so much comfort, support, love.

"i'm really sorry," you say, voice low. "that sucked."

he nods, eyes moving to look down at his feet as he leans his elbows onto his knees. "shit happens."

you stop for a moment but then you decide to be brave, putting a hand on his shoulder. when he doesn't shrug it off, you begin stroking over his white fireproof shirt with your thumb, hoping to comfort him even the slightest.

"i just... felt like the pace was good, you know?" you nod, even though he isn't looking. "i was ahead of ollie, and he ended up in p5..." your hand moves to the back of his neck, softly rubbing up and down his skin. "i don't know, i just feel like i could've scored some points too."

"yeah, definitely," you hum at him. "you did really well, love."

one of his hands comes up to wipe over his face, before he finally turns to look at you. "thank you." a slight smile takes over your lips. "and thank you for being here."

"of course. anything for you, mon amour."

arthur leans towards you, molding his lips against yours. the kiss is a lot different than how he kissed you earlier this morning; it's soothing, tender, gentle. yet, it's filled with just as much love.

"sorry i wasn't your lucky charm like you said i am," you tell him once you pull away, faces still close enough to feel his breath on your lips.

his mouth curls into a smile before he kisses you again. "don't worry," he moves to give you a couple of pecks along your jawline. "i'll buy a new charm since having you around doesn't work."

you gasp, slapping his chest as a big, teasing grin lightens up his face. "hey!"

and when his wholehearted laughter fills the room, you smile, despite his insult just moments earlier. you smile because you know it's all going to be fine; you smile because after his next race, he will be smiling too.

#f1 #arthur leclerc #fluff #comfort #x reader #x yn #x y/n #x female reader #x gender neutral reader #fic #fanfic #blurb #drabble #imagine #al12 #x you #headcanons #boyfriend #romance #f2

[tkthrilla-writes]

hii I hope you’re doing well!! i saw your requests were open and decided to ask! This is just a small idea i had, if you don’t want to do it you can ignore this!!

Could you write Alastor with a Fem reader who kind of dresses like Morticia or Elvira, but with like really long black hair that’s always in a ponytail, like long to the point it’s a few inches above the ground long. Alastor really loves her and also loves her hair, and if Angel or like anyone else try’s to touch it he just gets really protective.

Ask and you shall receive anon! It’s Saturday so let’s make it rain! Since it wasn’t specified, I am going to make this request in the form of headcanons hope that is ok with you. Just going to make slight adjustments as Y/n does not know the people of hell and only Alastor, who due to a ritual possesses and resides in Y/n’s body. But don’t worry I got chu.

“My my what is the occasion my dear?”

The second this demon sees your new hair style and new get up this man is tripping all over the floor.

Since when was your hair that long?

Since he is more used to the both of you getting up in the morning and trying to look presentable for the day, more often than not that hair is always up in a bun or ponytail, or if you are feeling up for a change, the rare and occasional braid. But wow, the second he sees that floor length black dress with that floor length black hair, his smile went past his ears with how deadly you look.

“It’s for Halloween, thought I’d dress up for the trick-or-treaters who stop by,” you said in full enthusiasm getting the candy ready.

“And who exactly are you dressed as? Surely not yourself,” this man tried to be smooth and seducing but all this got his was you looking this demon dead in the eye with the most blasphemous and shocked look on your face.

Bare with him, he died before he could know about the Adams family and the beauty that is Morticia Adams.

So you bombard him with quotes like, “The light,” “I am just like any other mother,” “But my dear you are not a mother? And what is wrong with the light? I thought you liked the sun for the Vitamin D as you call it” easy to say he does not get it and you make it a sheer point that before kids start coming over asking for candy you both sit down and watch the damn movie.

When it finishes it is very easy to assume which character he likes and what was his favourite part from the way his shadow parts from your body and his shadow form makes an eerily familiar black suit with thin red strips. Alastor loves his red.

“Begone with thee!” he exclaims as he fake attacks the sun through the windows; but his absolute favourite “My Dear, how long has it been since we last danced?”

“Hours,” and he proceeds to dance with you throughout the entire apartment.

Now timeskip a couple more hours into what is now the night, carrying on with the theme you decide to show him the more modern adaptation of the Adams family, and since you know that he might enjoy the horror aspect to it. “We’re going to watch Wednesday tonight!”

“THERE’S A SHOW ABOUT THE CHILD!” he’s excited. He does get mildly annoyed of having to pause it so frequently because of all the people who keep ringing, but he enjoys it none-the-less.

That is until a group of very, let’s say, particular people… come ringing at your door. There were some kids in what you could guess very early teens all decked up in their costumes who yell out “TRICK OR TREAT” but the people behind them are who really catch your attention.

The pervy dads

To put it simply they kept whistling at you while you gave out candy to the kids. One dad even started catcalling you.

It wasn’t until one of the dads actually tried to reach out to actually touch your hair, but before he could actually do that his arm snapped mid-air.

First a sickening SNAP resounded that made everyone stare and be silent, next came the deafening scream of the dad who just had his arm mysteriously snap. This just made everyone leave you alone immediately as they tried to see what was wrong… before realising it was completely broken and damn near flopping in the wind.

You simply took this as your cue to slowly close the door, and take a few steps back. “Al?” you asked knowing damn well how this demon, “Yes Cara mia?” he replied. “Hmm, thank you,” you said, “You are very welcome, another man should not be touching another’s spouse.” “Possessive much?” you ask coyly, “and since when were we married?”

“My dear we have been in this arrangement for many years, we might as well be,” Alastor’s shadowed figure reached down for your hand to place a gentle kiss on the knuckle.

“I don’t remember you proposing, so how can we be married.”

“Don’t tempt me my dear, because I promise you, you were mine the day you made this contract and arrangement. And I absolutely vow that nobody else will place their filthy hands on what is mine.”

#possession #possesive love #morticia addams #gomez and morticia #helluva boss #hazbin hotel x reader #x reader #alastor x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel #host au

[barefoothighlander]

Hi could I ask for Ghost with an hypersomniac reader? Much love to you!

of course babe, I'm not super knowledgeable about hypersomnia but I tried my best, I feel like Ghost would be so attentive and caring, always checking in etc. So here's a lil' one shot.

warnings: none just fluff, gn pronouns

Ghost was used to being up late, the military had trained him to stay up for days in a row, often times he’d just lay awake in bed, hiding from the nightmares, forcing his body to stay awake. You didn’t have the same luxury, often finding yourself dozing off during the day, or sleeping through odd hours. Somehow it worked, you being up for brief periods of time, usually during the night, and his discontent for sleeping, it allowed you to spend time together, away from the noise of the rest of the world.

He wasn’t one for going out often considering his outward appearance usually frightened onlookers, but at home he wasn’t Ghost, he was Simon, your Simon. Your Simon that would carry you to bed if you fell asleep on the couch, who would hold you close as his heartbeat lulled you to sleep. He may have been a ruthless killer outside the wall of your home, but inside he was the most caring partner you could have.

You had woken up during the night, inching out of bed in your pyjamas (little cotton shorts with skulls on them, he’d bought them for you a while back), rubbing your eyes as they adjusted to the small stream of light coming from the kitchen, poking your head out to see Simon, shirtless and braced against the counter as the kettle on the stove boils, smiling to yourself as he hears your footsteps get closer.

“Hey angel” his accent is thick, he had just gotten out of bed.

“Hiya handsome” you manage through a yawn, opening your arms to pull him into a hug as he embraces you, placing a kiss on the top of your head

“You alright?”

You respond with a meek nod into his chest, he was so warm, comforting, like a fire on a cool summer night. He moves to pull away as he hears the kettle finish boiling but you cling to him, placing your feet on top of his as he laughs, walking your bodies over to the stove. He pours two cups of tea, hands coming to stroke along your back as he waits for them to steep.

“You know you’ll have to let me go when I leave for work”

“Not if I can help it”

You release him hesitantly as he hands you a mug, his hand soft on your waist as he guides you to the couch, flicking on the television. You rest your head against his firm shoulder, tucking your body close to his as he reaches behind you, grabbing a blanket and draping it over your form, the two of you silently enjoying each other’s company as you sip your tea.

“Any plans for the day?” he asked, he always liked to know what you were up to, his own days becoming routine when he wasn’t deployed, working out, filing paperwork, training some new recruits.

“Just some errands, groceries and tidying” you respond, glancing around the flat, it wasn’t messy, Simon would never let it get too bad, but there was some laundry that had to be done, a few scattered dishes to be washed.

He hums in acknowledgement, the two of you sat watching reruns of Eastenders, quietly joking to yourselves. You loved this time, there were no cars outside, no shouting from the other buildings, it felt like it was you and Simon, alone in the world. You sat with him before glancing at the time, 7:30.

“You’ve gotta go,” you said, moving your body off him, he nods and moves to the bedroom to get dressed while you collect the mugs, bringing them to the sink.

“I’ll be home around 4 but I’ll call you at 11,” he said, tugging a sweatshirt over his head.

You cross the room to stand in front of him, fingers running through his hair trying to tame the mess that had come from his tossing and turning, giving him a smile before reaching up to plant a kiss on his lips, he holds you there for a minute.

“Have a good day” you say with another peck to his lips as you watch him cross the room and leave.

You figure you might as well get some of your to-do list done now considering you might be too tired in a few hours. You manage to clean up all the dishes and throw in a load of laundry, deciding that you could vacuum tomorrow, plopping down on the couch your eyelids feel heavy, moving to rest your head against a pillow.

You’re woken up to the loud buzzing of your phone, eyes squinting in adjustment to the sunlight coming from the windows, you look at the screen 11:03, and Simon’s name is in full view as you answer the phone.

“Hey love, you alright?”

“Yea, just woke up”

“Shit, sorry didn’t mean to wake you”

“It’s alright, I have to head to the market anyway”

“Right, well, Captain needs me to stay later on base” You can hear the regret in his voice. “I won’t be home till late, m’sorry love”

You pout subconsciously, “Oh, that’s okay, I guess I’ll just see you when you get home then”

“Yeah,” he says, scratching the back of his head, “I love you”

A smile creeps up on your face, “I love you too Si” you respond, hanging up the phone, pushing yourself up from the couch to get dressed.

The rest of your day was rather simple, buy a few groceries for the flat, Simon had requested some sort of chocolate biscuit to snack on. You got home around 2 and made yourself something to eat before putting away the food. By 4 you have finished the laundry, feeling accomplished that you managed nearly all the tasks you had set out to do, rewarding yourself with a bath, you ran the water, lighting some candles in the room before stepping in and letting the warm water soothe you. You sat for 20 minutes, feeling yourself grow tired and deciding to get out (you had fallen asleep in the tub one time and Simon swore he had a heart attack when he found you). Changing into one of his shirts before settling yourself in bed.

At 9 you were woken up by Simon’s soft caresses of your hair,

“You’re home,” you said with a smile, turning your body to face him as he leaned down for a quick kiss.

“Have you eaten?”

You shake your head, “Not since lunch”

He shakes his head, holding his hands out for you to grab and leading you to the kitchen where you sit on one of the stools, he moves around the kitchen, grabbing pans and ingredients as you stare lovingly. You ask about his day, it was pretty typical aside from Soap accidentally detonating a live landmine in a field simulation. A few minutes pass and he presents you with a small bowl of pasta, he wasn’t the best chef but he managed to not burn down the kitchen, you thank him as he moves to sit beside you, his own larger bowl in front of him. The two of you chat in between bites, you watch his face light up at the mention of the biscuits you bought, laughing to yourself over the fact that such a large daunting man would be so happy over a simple cookie. 

Simon cleans up the dishes as you seat yourself on the couch, flicking through the channels to find something to watch before you feel the cushions dip under his weight, his arm snaking around your shoulders to pull you into him. You decide on watching an episode of some sitcom before Simon grabs the remote, changing the channel to check the score of the rugby game. The heat emanating from him comforts you, as you grow tired once again, he lets you rest against him for a while before deciding that he should try to get some sleep as well, his arms moving to lift your body, carrying you to the bed and setting you down gently before he strips into more comfortable clothing and joins you,

"G'night baby," he says, kissing your forehead.

He watches the steady rise and fall of your chest, tucking you into him and resting his chin on your head before falling asleep.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley fluff #cod mw x reader #cod mw2 #ghost cod #cod x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost smut #simon riley x you #simon riley smut #mw2022 #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x you #call of duty mwii #simon ghost riley angst #ghost fluff

[topgun-imagines]

Pain Meds 

Requested: yes 

Summary: After an incident during training you put your husband on bed rest until he feels better. The only problem is that the painkillers hurt his stomach. 

Word count: 1.3k 

Warnings: Mentions of death. Mentions of plane crashes. Wounds. Stitches. Pills. 

Pairings: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x wife!reader

“No,” Bradley’s face was hard and impassive. You sighed. Your husband had been refusing to take his pain medication for over an hour now. A few weeks ago, Bradley had entered a flat spin. You weren’t cleared to know exactly everything that had happened but from what you had been told you knew that something had malfunctioned, causing the engine to stall which resulted in your husband entering a flat spin. The ejection had been hard; the terrain was rough and unrelenting which caused Bradley more than a few injuries. Safe to say, you were horrified. You knew about how his father died and imagining how Bradley must have been feeling in that moment broke your heart. He had been cleared from medical care a few days ago but was still on leave to give himself time to fully recover. You had put him on bed rest the second he walked through the door. Your eyes focused on Bradley again. Every now and then, you could tell when a certain move caused a jolt of pain to run through him. Yet he still refused to take his damn medication. 

You let out a sigh. “Bradley please,” Practically begging him at this point, you held out the pill bottle once more. It was still mostly full after nearly a week of what was supposed to be two pills a day. “I just want you to feel better.” It killed you to see the pain that your husband was in. Knowing that he had an opportunity to help himself, to relieve the pain that he was in but refused to take it bewildered you. He sat in front of you silently, refusing to meet your eyes. With a sigh, you stood up. You set the pill bottle on the coffee table in front of his before moving to walk back into the kitchen 

Bradley let out a dejected sigh. “Wait,” He called softly, halting you in your spot. You turned back to face him. His eyes were cast down onto the floor. “It’s not that I don’t want to take them,” He started softly. You made your way toward him and sat down. Taking his hand in yours, you squeezed it softly. His eyes drifted up to yours. “They make my stomach hurt,” He practically whined. Hearing that come from a grown man made you chuckle slightly. When Bradley heard your soft giggles his head snapped back up to you. “Hey!” Your husband was pouting now.

Your laughter slowly died down as he tried to disguise his amusement in a glare.  “I’m sorry, baby,” Setting your hand on his cheek, you rubbed your thumb over his cheek, brushing over the corner of his mustache. When he continued to pout you rolled your eyes fondly. You could never deny his puppy dog eyes. “I’ll see what I can do.” He smiled widely at you. With one final kiss pressed to his forehead, you stood from the couch and headed into the kitchen. You knew Bradley got stomachaches easily and you had picked up on a few things that he appreciated. 

Opening the medicine cabinet you groaned quietly. You were all out of the one kind of medicine that Bradley preferred. It was the only kind that ever seemed to work for him. You checked the fridge quickly to see if there was any Ginger Ale, another thing that was perfect for both you and Bradley. To your surprise, there was none. You could have sworn you bought a case the other day. With a sigh, you plucked your keys off the counter and headed back to the living room. 

“I’m gonna run to the store,” You called, slipping your shoes on. When Bradley didn’t respond you grew curious. He wasn’t ignoring you, was he? “Brad?” You spoke softly. Heading back to where your husband was on the couch, your heart melted at the sight in front of you. Bradley was asleep, arms crossed under the pillow and lips parted as he snored softly. With a small smile, you adjusted the thin blanket wrapped haphazardly around his waist before kissing his temple. 

With Bradley asleep, you decided that you would walk over to the store. It wasn’t that far, plus it gave your husband some extra piece and quiet. You slipped out of the house quietly, beginning the five-minute walk. You and Bradley had decided to buy a house in Miramar for the time being. After the Uranium Mission, the higher up’s decided that the Dagger Squad would remain as a permanent detachment. Maverick had essentially moved in with Penny at this point and many of the other members had purchased homes around the base. Your home was in the perfect location; not too far from the Hard Deck, the base, and everyone else’s home. 

You stepped into the cool air conditioning of the store and immediately headed over to the medication isles. It was a relatively small store, but seeing as it was on a Navy base it was stocked with an abundance of painkillers. After a quick scan of the shelves your eyes landed on the pills you were looking for. Grabbing the box, you picked up a pack of Ginger Ale before heading to the till. You smile at the cashier as you paid, grasping the bag that she handed you before heading back towards your house. 

When you returned home, you found Bradley in the same state that you left him in, mouth hung open as snores poured freely from it. You shook your head fondly before moving past him to the kitchen. You poured one of the cans into a glass before grabbing two of the painkillers. 

Back in the living room, Bradley was beginning to stir. He had always been a light sleeper, his years in the Navy making it very easy to wake him up. “Bradley,” You hummed softly, setting the glass on the table and running your hand through his honey curls. A small grunt was all you got in response. “Brad, baby, I’ve got something for you,” You watched as his eyelashes fluttered against his cheeks softly. He groaned as he sat up, wincing due to his stitches. It hurt you to see him in this much pain. “Here babe.” You spoke softly. Bradley brought a hand up to wipe the sleep from his eyes. He took the pills from you gratefully, sipping on the Ginger Ale to help swallow them.  

Once the pills were down, your husband wound his arm around you and pulled you into his chest softly. You tried not to lean into him too much, wary of his healing wounds. The steady beating of his heart under your ear calmed you slightly. He was alive. He would be fine. His hand began rubbing soothing circles on your back as he guided the pair of you to lie down on the couch. Your eyes slowly shut. A scent that was entirely Bradley filled you. Above you, Bradley was messing with the television remote, trying to turn on a random movie to play in the background. Once one was picked, his hands returned to the small of your back. “What would I do without you, pretty girl?” He whispered into your hair. Bradley pressed a light kiss to your temple. 

You grinned and laughed quietly. “You’re lucky you never have to find out,” All you heard in response was Bradley’s soft hum. Slowly, your hands dipped below the seam of the T-shirt he was wearing. You began tracing over the edges of the forming scars softly. Snuggling further into him, you pressed a kiss to the center of his chest. “I love you, Bradley.” 

One of his hands squeezed your hip softly. “I love you, too, baby girl.”

a/n: Thank you for reading! Requests are open. 

#rooster #rooster fic #bradley rooster bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster x reader #rooster x wife!reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fic #nick bradshaw x reader #rooster fanfic #rooster bradshaw fic #rooster fluff #rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun fluff #miles teller

[hanniluvi]

( ☕️ ) HOT CHOCO GIRL — HANBIN FIC

[ DAY TWO ] of the advent calendar !

( ☕️ ) OPENING . . everytime december comes around, hanbin always looks forward to seeing you—the hot choco girl. why? because he thinks you’re the prettiest person he has ever laid his eyes on.

( 𖦹 ) BREWING . . barista!hanbin x customer!fem-reader

( ☕️ ) MENU . . fluff, strangers 2 lovers FT. jibeom from golcha

( 𖦹 ) WARNINGS . . none i think !! ~~ WC 900+ !

( ☕️ ) CLOSING . . barista hanbin in stuck in my head .. i need to write a long fic or smau ver of him bc its that bad!!!!

Playing the cafe playlist, Hanbin works cheerfully, humming along as he arranges the freshly baked pastries on the shelves. Jibeom emerges from the back and notices Hanbin's broad smile. He sneakily inches closer to him, but Hanbin catches him in the act, causing Jibeom to freeze, looking almost guilty.

"Jibeom, what are you doing?" Hanbin inquires.

"What are you doing?" Jibeom deflects the question, leaving Hanbin puzzled.

"What do you mean?"

Jibeom slowly gets closer, making Hanbin chuckle. “Tell me what’s up with your smile.”

“Huh?”

“Let me reword it. I mean, why the big smile today? Got a crush or something?"

Hanbin's face reddens a little at the tease. "No, nothing like that. I'm just feeling good today. Is it wrong to be happy?"

Jibeom laughs, "Of course not! I was just curious." He goes to grab some trays to help Hanbin with the display.

Hanbin watches Jibeom's retreating back, a soft smile playing on his lips. There was one reason behind his good mood: that extra sprinkle of happiness that you always brought into this month.

When Jibeom comes back to also start putting things onto the shelves with Hanbin, he can’t stop the curiosity getting to him. “Okay but seriously, why are you smiling?”

“It’s nothing!”

“That’s the biggest lie I’ve ever heard in my life,” Jibeom teased, gazing into Hanbin's eyes again. "Go on, spill it."

"Um, well, the thing is, I'm thrilled because it's December."

"Just because of that?"

"Yeah, it's when the girl comes to our café," Hanbin elaborated, his grin growing wider. “Hot choco girl.” Jibeom appeared confused, more concerned – what had his friend gotten himself into?

"Hot chocolate girl? Who on earth is that?" Jibeom inquired, driven by curiosity.

"A girl who comes in for hot chocolate…?" Hanbin remarked, glancing at Jibeom, who sported a bored expression.

"Even a toddler would be aware of that," Jibeom shook his head, lightly tapping Hanbin with the tray. "Who is this customer? I can't recall our regulars, to be completely honest."

“You’ll see who she is later,” Hanbin said, moving away quickly from Jibeom. He rolled his eyes, quickly following him behind, “Hey! You can’t just say that!”

The minutes turned into hours, and Hanbin remained fixated on the entrance, eagerly anticipating the arrival of the person he longed to see. Each time someone entered who wasn't the one, a hint of disappointment flickered across his face, though he clung to a glimmer of hope.

Jibeom, as always, notices his friend constantly drifting his attention to the doors, once again sneaking up on his friend. “She’s not here yet?” He scared Hanbin a bit, making him calm his racing heart. “You really need to stop sneaking up on me like this.”

“Sorry!” Jibeom chuckled, and looked at the entrance. “Hey, is it her?” Hanbin immediately whipped his head around, not being able to contain his smile. “Yeah. That’s hot choco girl.”

Jibeom could tell Hanbin had hearts coming out of his eyes, not being able to keep his eyes off of you. “You’re down bad.” Hanbin rolled his eyes, playfully pushing Jibeom away, “Yeah, yeah–whatever! Just go!”

With a swift adjustment, Hanbin flashed his widest smile as he headed towards the register. His gaze met yours, and you returned the same smile.

"Back again?" he asked.

"Yeah—oh, you remember me?" You responded, a touch flustered, rubbing your hands together to warm them up.

"I tend to remember a few faces around here and there," Hanbin replied, not entirely dishonest; he couldn't recall everyone, but he certainly remembered you.

"I see," you chuckled, ready to place your order when Hanbin interjected once more.

"Hot chocolate with extra whipped cream?" Hanbin was already punching in the order, exchanging a soft smile with you. Your eyes widened, curiosity sparking within you.

"Oh – I just remember because you only order this during this month," Hanbin explained, his response seeming quite reasonable. After all, what barista wouldn’t recognize their regular customers?

"You're quite attentive," you remarked, reaching into your bag for your wallet. "Do you need my name too, or do you already have that in your head?"

Hanbin's face slightly flushed, he accepted your card without saying a word. Dodging your question, he remarked, "Your order will be ready in a bit," as he busied himself. You chuckled, retrieving your card. "Thank you."

Exactly five minutes later, Hanbin finished preparing the drink, securing the lid tightly. He took a black sharpie, jotting something down that brought a smile to his face. "Order for YN," he called out, noticing you hastening over to collect the drink. You expressed your gratitude, taking the hot cup. Before taking a sip, you glanced at the cup once more, noticing "For: Hot Choco Girl — XXX-XXX-XXXX" written on it.

He really just gave you his phone number.

When you looked up, you found Hanbin, completely flustered and unable to maintain eye contact. The thought of him finally making a move made him feel excitement, but also anxiousness.

Feeling a mix of surprise and amusement, you took a sip of your hot chocolate, the warmth spreading through you. Before leaving the shop, you caught Hanbin's eyes once more, noticing his still evident embarrassment.

"Thank you," you said with a playful smile, lifting the cup slightly.

Walking away, you turned back and grinned. "I'll have to call you about this later, Hanbin," you teased, noting his bashful expression. With that, you headed out, leaving Hanbin behind, visibly flustered and fidgety behind the counter.

As you left the shop, Hanbin found himself placing a hand over his chest, sensing his rapid heartbeat. It wasn't the familiar cold sensation during this time, but rather a rush of warmth, a nice and comforting feeling spreading within him.

Well, he guesses that's what "hot choco girl" does to him.

SEND AN ASK / COMMENT TO BE ADDED!

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[scribble-dribble-writes]

omg hi. this is one of those requests for when miguel gets home from work n is just exhausted from overworking himself but he just can’t sleep and needs ALLLL of your affection in order for him to relax and put all the problems in the world aside and just focus in you and only you💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔💔 but not the one where he just gets home to “fuck his stress away” i don’t really like those they’re boring bc he used u n then he knocks tf out😞😞😞💔💔.

if u do this i love you 2939950382728205 and hope you eat good tonight🫦🫦🫦.

Hahaha thank you for this request! Hope you like it!!

Am I 2939950382728205 loveable now?

---

Paraíso secreto

Pairing: Miguel o'hara x female reader

Word count: 2800

Warnings: none, sensual tension

---

You had cleaned up the kitchen, did away the dishes and finally tucked yourself within your blanket to sink back into the cushions of your couch. The television light was all that illuminated the room as you browsed through movies instead of catching up with your favorite shows, because that had to wait till the weekend, upon strict orders from your husband.

It was his sacred routine, to watch them with you and you didn’t want to break his heart by watching them alone. He had been away for a few weeks and it was well accustomed to have such nights with the nature of his work. You didn’t mind when he got busy, you worked around it and kept yourself occupied but sometimes it would catch when you weren’t noticing.

The longing, the solitary routine making you want to run to that phone and call him home.

The movie tiles kept moving and yet nothing seemed interesting. You wanted to hear him say your name. Sighing you tilted your head up, the ceiling looked just as vacant as you were feeling. Your phone lit up next to you, you turned to it instantly, hoping for a message from him. That he was coming home but it was only a notification for tomorrow’s weather.

Cloudy with a high chance of rain.

Great, you thought. Another day with depressing weather that you longed for the sun to come out again.

Where was the warming sun when you needed it?

Where was he when you wanted him?

You stayed up late in the hope that he would return, atleast today but as the clock ticked away into midnight hours, it was clear that you were going to have to make your way to a cold empty bed. But the phone shone in your hand, your finger itching to click on the number with his name on it.

You hovered over it bringing to your senses the warmth of his body, the scent on his skin, the soft touch of his fingers and the velvet brown of his eyes. All of it making you miss him more. Maybe you could ring him just to say that. Maybe you could ring him and he would appear at your front door. But you didn’t. You had signed up for this, the lonely nights and his schedules.

Just as you were about to get up to grab a late night snack, the door beeped open. You froze, the surprise of hearing the sound of his footsteps down the hallway made this moment feel like a dream. And then he called your name, his voice ridden with sleep and his soul tired of having been away.

“In here.”, you responded to him, scared that if you went out to him, he might disappear and all this would turn into a mirage, one of your own mind’s doing.

But he appeared in front of you, his eyes dilating at the sight of you. The tension from his shoulders escaped as he took in a deep breath.

“dios mío, te he extrañado.”, he exhaled and with it walked towards you, to trap you in his arms as he crawled over you. Now unable to move away, he lifted your blanket to get under it.

“Ay my feet will get cold.”, you squirmed while he adjusted himself over you, to rest one arm over your abdomen, the other looping behind your back to then have his head nuzzle into the crook of your chest.

With that he sunk into you, letting go off all the strings that he kept held together. You could see his slow breathing reverberate through the blanket, his warmth encasing you. You relaxed too, running your hands over his back before bringing it back up to pet his hair.

“I’ve missed you too.”, you leaned forward to kiss the back of his head as it peeked up from beneath the blanket. His eyes were closed but beneath it, it was lined with dark circles, he looked exhausted. As you huffed a smile at his neediness, you ran your fingers over his cheek to feel the rough edges of a couple day’s worth stubble. He didn’t smell like the combination of sea salt and bergamot. Instead he reeked of sweat and tarmac.

Where had he been?

“You need a bath.”, you said as you gathered all his hair that had fallen forward to expose his forehead, to try to get him to look at you.

He hummed to agree but refused to move. So you began to stir beneath him only to have his hold tighten. Placing your hands on his shoulder you attempted to push him away but he wouldn't budge.

“Go get yourself cleaned up, big boy.”, you tapped his cheek to wake him up but he nuzzled further and whined.

“Only if you come with me.”, he cribbed not wanting to leave you.

“I’m not the one who’s smelling like a scruffy street rat.”, you laughed. Upon hearing your response, he gasped dramatically.

“A street rat?”, he looked up at you, to which you nodded your head.

“retractate”, he pouted.

“No.”, you said folding your arms.

“Now go and come back soon, I want to cuddle.”, you looked at him with a stern look. To which his eyes narrowed down on you as if he was plotting something.

He got up and you smirked, feeling justified for having gotten him to do what you want. But he sat back on his knees and wrapped his hands around your thighs to pull you up to him. Now in the liberty of his hold, he brought you closer to rub his face into your neck, his hand holding you steady as you fought off giggles. The sweet scent of neroli that was on you was now replaced with the same gunk that was on him. Now sitting back on his heels he gave you a proud smile.

“Now you need a bath too.”, he said as he got up, his fingers wrapping around yours to get you to follow him.

“Fine.”, you rolled your eyes as you smiled giving into his charm.

He turned the shower on, the steam beginning to fill the cold space. He removed his gadgets off him but soon after he turned to you. As though he didn’t want to enter first in the off chance you might slip away. You weren’t certain as to what had gotten into him, usually he would only have the energy to fall asleep. But as his large fingers slid away your night dress with ease, there wasn’t too much to complain about.

He held his hand out, to help you into the tub that also functioned as the shower area, then he got in next and pulled the shower curtains to seal the warmth in.

He stood beneath the shower head, letting the warm water run over him as he closed his eyes, you could tell something was bothering him. So you drew closer, to let the water run over you too.

“Where did you go?”, you asked wanting to know the thoughts that were running in his head.

“Just…”, he sighed, slowly leaning down to rest his forehead on your shoulder, his hand coming to rest in the small of your back.

“work.”, he told you. None of his other projects had drained him to this extent.

“Is it classified?”, you whispered as he reached for the shower gel.

“No.”, he said it with a laugh.

“It’s this boy that's wrecking everything I worked hard to set right.”, he spoke with frustration as he squeezed a dollop of soap into your hands and his.

“He won’t listen to me.”, his brows furrowed.

“Now he’s run off and I don’t know what to do.”, he growled as his claws retracted a little as he rubbed his hands together in anger, the soap generating a lot of leather that now got washed away. But when his eyes found yours, he took a deep breath, as if remembered where he was and retracted his claws.

“Now I’m wasting our time together by rambling about something irrelevant.”, he pursed his lips.

“I'm failing at everything.”, his shoulders slumped.

“At keeping the multiverse together, at being a leader for the society I  created and”, he paused his brows furrowing further as though he had made a mistake.

“at being your husband.”, he said finally as he closed his eyes.

So that was what all this was about.

“I’ve left you unattended and alone and – you stopped his rambling by placing a finger on his lips.

“You’re here now.”, you eased him.

“I do miss you, but moments like these make up for it.”, you lathered the soap into your hands.

“So I don’t want to become another worry that lingers in your mind.”, you spread the soap on his chest, working it up to his neck.

“But I want you to know,” he held you by your chin, making you pause to look at him.

“that you are beyond important than what I do.”, he spoke the words tenderly.

“that every time I breathe I think of you.”, he smiled.

“you linger  in the rhythm of my heartbeat and I am sure you make up a major part of my soul.”, he pulled you closer, you stood on your toes, you were both magnets, drawn to each other infinitely. He kissed you and it was an act of affirmation, for the both of you.

You turned to grab more soap but he seemed to have other ideas, as you turned to him, he had another huge pile of lather in his hands which he dumped on your head. You frowned but the smile on his face warmed your heart, you stood on your toes again to dose his head with shampoo and before he could get a hold of you, you worked your fingers into his hair as the soap dripped down his eyes. Once it was well applied, you styled his hair into a mohawk. Knowing what you had done, he pouted like a child forced to sit still.

He grabbed the hand shower and you were sure it was going to be an act of revenge. It was, he turned on cold water over you. You squealed trying to get it out of his hand but managed to turn it him instead.

“Ay ay ay esta helada.”, he jumped as he turned it off.

You stood in the silence for a second before both of you broke into fists of laughter. As you stood there with soap dripping down your face and while he still sported half a mohawk.

And somehow you had forgotten all the lonely hours you had spent because when he was here, with you. He was the sun.

You finally managed to behave like adults and step out the shower rid of all the dirt and grime. You got into another night dress and he pulled over a pair of shorts. As you stood by the mirror to dry your hair, you found him inspecting the scruff on his face.

“My trimmer’s run out of battery and I can’t manage it with the blade.”, he explained.

The smallest prick and his claws would give into his reflex to cut him. So putting away your towel you took up the blade and motioned from him to sit down on the stool. His eyes tracking you, somehow this gesture had seemed to darken his eyes with desire.

Applying shaving foam over the sides of his face, you inspected his face but you couldn’t shake off the sensation of having his eyes on you, it felt enriching. It was difficult to find the right angle as you stood and as if he could read your thoughts he pulled you up onto his lap. His hands wrapping around your waist as his fingers rested on the rise of your backside.

You held his chin and slid the blade down his cheek as it came away with foam leaving behind smooth supple skin, one you wanted to kiss a thousand times.

“The boy you mentioned.”, you spoke and he hummed.

“he sounds a lot like you.”, you told him

“He isn’t.”, he grunted.

“He’s just scared and alone, go easy on him.”, you shushed him as you got to the end of his chin.

“You still have nightmares about your past, Miguel.”, you reminded him and he remained quite in contemplation.

“Don’t expect a child to have it all figured out.”, you told him and his eyes softened, as if he was guilty.

“I may have chased him across the city in a fit of rage.”, he mumbled but it got your attention.

“Miguel.”, you chided him.

“Lo siento.”, he eased you

“Promise me the next time you see him.”, you pointed the blade at him.

“You’ll protect him.”, you furrowed your brows and his gaze wavered. In his line of work protecting someone meant you risked losing yours. So you added another clause to your statement.

“And come back home to me.”, you said softly as he wiped his face with the towel that was on his shoulder.

“Yes, mi joya.”, he placed a kiss on your cheek.

“ahora vamos a la cama.”, his voice dripped with sleep and comfort.

You each settled onto your respective sides of the bed and finally in weeks, these sheets weren’t going to be cold. You had to braid your hair before you could sleep but he didn’t let you. He grabbed you, to pull you close to him such that your back was pressed into his chest and then breathed in the scent of your shampoo as he placed his nose at the top of your head.

“Let me braid your hair.”, he whispered and you could only say yes as your throat ran dry.

The feeling on his fingers in your hair, tugging it softly as he worked away without seeking any advice. You grew shy at his display of tenderness, suddenly feeling grateful about who he was to you, that he was yours and how he didn’t know that his small gestures let you know of his love.

“Gabriella only preferred ponytails but I’m sure I’ve got this right.”, He spoke as he secured the hair tie to then place the finished braid over your shoulder for inspection.

You ran your fingers over the weave of the braid. It was perfect, just right and your smile had conveyed your satisfaction to him.

Now with some new scheme, he turned behind him to switch of his table light and reached past you to switch of yours as well. To plunge the room in darkness and as your eyes adjusted to the soft light that filtered in through the window, there was longing in his eyes.

“Now with your hair out of the way and my scruffy beard tamed, I can finally do this.”, he had found your cheek in the dim light but it was the hunger with which his lips found yours that knocked the wind out of your system.

His tongue digging in as if he had been starved but then so were you. Starved for his touch, his breath hot against your skin, his heart raging in his throat.

There were no more wounds to heal or worries to dust away. There was only the silence of the night and the freedom to enjoy each other’s presence.

His weight pushed you onto the pillows as his lips travelled down your neck over your collarbone and into your sternum while his hand traced up your leg beneath your dress to the start of your thighs.

His lips mumbling words like they were chants of adoration.

“Te deseo.”, he said breathlessly as he caught his breath and to see him in this light, undone by your, it was beauty at it’s finest.

“Don’t abandon me in the morning.”, you stroked his cheek afraid that you would be alone again.

The funny thing about falling in love with the sun is how it tends to hide away when in pleases or leave you to the mercy of winter winds, till it hears you beg for it to return.

But with him, he lit up your soul, he never let you beg and instead gave freely. With his care and love, there was no doubt, no waiting, when he was here, he left no room for doubt in your mind about where you stood, about what you meant to him.

“Cómo puedo huir?”, he traced his thumb over the rise of your cheek.

“cuando eres mi paraiso secreto.”, he paused, his eyes holding your gaze.

“mi lugar seguro”, he whispered with a soft smile.

“No puedo.”, he shook his head as though it was impossible by all accounts.

“porque eres tú”, he continued as if switching to English would water down his feelings.

“Siempre te voy a escoger.”, he said with certainty.

“Siempre”, he said again as though that was the final truth.

There was no proper response that could match what he had said so you reached up to kiss him, to give him your entirety, body, mind and soul because only he could rule over it justly with all the love you deserved.

He hummed against your lips as if you were the only one capable of intoxicating him.

Your hands found the base of his shoulder blades and his lips found yours.

The rainy weather predicted for tomorrow didn’t matter any more. Because all the warmth you needed, was here, in his arms.

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