#instead of the thing i’ve been putting off for a month and FINALLY HAD THE MOTIVATION TO FUCKING DO

[defilerwyrm]

Parents, for the love of everything that ever pretended to be holy, do not make household cleaning a punishment for your children.

My parents did that. As an adult, I would rather stare at a blank wall for five hours straight than wash dishes. I would rather do math problems without a calculator and have my answers read aloud in public than clean a bathroom. If my hatred of cleaning was a capturable energy it could power interstellar travel. All because, growing up, cleaning house was a primary form of punishment.

Don’t fuckin’ do that. You’re not instilling discipline. You’re instilling hatred for something they need to be able to do as adults without hating every microsecond of it.

#parenting #protip: any activity you use as a punishment for children they will passionately hate as adults #about me #this message brought to you by having my day utterly & irrevocably ruined by having to clean bathrooms #instead of the thing i’ve been putting off for a month and FINALLY HAD THE MOTIVATION TO FUCKING DO #fuck only knows if i’ll get around to it before it’s too late now! MOMENT OVER. MOTIVATION GONE #wait how did this happen #10k club

[holllandtrash]

say don't go | charles leclerc

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

based off of taylor swift's 'stay don't go' why'd you have to lead me on? why'd you have to twist the knife? walk away and leave me bleedin'

word count: 5.2k tags/warnings: slight angst, mentions of being disloyal, this is kinda sad, mention of smut i guess but blink and you miss it

You weren’t one to let your past haunt you. It was the past for a reason, it belonged behind you, all you could do was grow into a better version of yourself.

But what the hell were you supposed to do when Charles showed up at your door after six months of silence? 

It was a week into December and you were reluctantly putting up Christmas decorations because you were tired of the comments your friends made, telling you to get into the holiday spirit. Now you had the silver tinsel gripped in your hand as Charles stood on your front step, light flurries landing on his coat only to melt immediately after. 

It was the middle of the day and you lived in a crowded area, but passersby on the sidewalk and those driving past had no idea there was a Ferrari driver only metres away from them.

But no one would guess that Charles Leclerc would be travelling to Bristol during his holidays.

“What? Were you in the neighbourhood?” You asked, flicking the tinsel off of your hand and shaking off any remnants. You watched it fall to the floor before looking up, “Felt like stopping by?” 

“Can I come in?” Charles asked, glancing behind you. Was he looking to see if you had company? If you had moved on? Regardless of what, or who, he was looking for, his shoulders relaxed when he could tell you were alone. All that was behind you was cardboard boxes labelled Christmas. 

“Give me three good reasons why I shouldn't shut the door in your face,” your demand was laced with your usual sweet tone, the same one that always intimated Charles because he never knew what to make of it. Never once did you raise your voice, you never yelled, never showed signs of anger. Even when you were annoyed, you always sounded calm. 

He sucked in a breath, “Well, it’s cold out.” He chuckled, but when you didn’t see any humour in his words he just nodded and moved on. “I was, in fact, in the neighbourhood- well I was in London, just figured I’d make a quick trip out west.”

Those weren’t good enough reasons and he knew it. You moved to grab the door and Charles reacted by holding his hand out to stop it from shutting, eyes trained on yours. 

His cheeks were red, not accustomed to the British winters. He wasn’t wearing mitts and you could see how his hands had responded to the dry air by cracking at the knuckles. His lips trembled, not because he was nervous but because this was probably the coldest his body temperature had dropped to in a long time. 

Which had you questioning how long he had been standing outside your door before finally knocking.

“There’s some things I’ve been meaning to say for a while now,” Charles spoke softly and you could see his breath with each word. “And you don’t need to say anything, but I’d love it if you’d listen.”

Maybe you felt bad that he was cold. Maybe you were curious as to what he had to say to you after so long. Maybe part of you still missed him and if these were the last few minutes you’d get with him, you weren’t going to let them pass.

Whatever the reason, you held the door open and he stepped inside. You watched as he ran his fingers through his hair and slid his coat off, hanging it on the empty hook on the wall. Your eyes darted down to the shoes he wore and Charles recognized that look, knowing better than to walk any further with his shoes on. He smiled, sort of, remembering the first time you asked him to take his shoes off when he entered your apartment. 

If this was six months ago, you would have had slippers waiting for him to put on, but instead Charles was left to just his socks. You, though, seemed quite cozy. The matching sweats and jumper was only a shade darker than the slippers you wore and Charles almost asked where you purchased the set from, but he held his tongue because now wasn’t the time for casual conversation.

“Tea?” You offered, glancing at the kettle sitting on the stove. It had started whistling only minutes before he showed up but you hadn’t had a second to pour yourself a cup, too caught up in trying to untangle tinsel.

“Don’t want to put you out,” he shook his head, but when you manoeuvred past him to step into the kitchen, he didn’t stop you from grabbing two cups from the cupboard. He watched, standing at a cautious distance, as you made the two drinks the same way you always did. 

Charles was brought back to the time he walked into his own flat in Monaco and you were kneeling on the counter, trying to find a suitable cup because all of his mugs were too big and bulky for tea. He held his hand to your back, worried you’d tip backwards, which you didn’t, but you were happy he was there to help you off the counter and greet you with a kiss. 

“I’ll invest in new cups,” he said. He never did.

He didn’t like the silence that lingered between you now, probably the first time it ever bothered him, so he cleared his throat, “I like your new place.”

You nodded, “Thank you.”

He glanced around at the decor and spoke up again, “So you’ve been well?”

“You don’t need to pretend to care about how I've been.”

“I do care.”

The slow yet icy stare you gave him as you peered over your shoulder had Charles wondering if showing up here was a good idea. Instead of opening his mouth again, Charles looked at the decorations littered on the floor. 

He was drawn towards the open box of ornaments that was placed on the couch. He noticed the tree in the corner, but all you had put up so far was a string of lights. Curious, he looked closer into the box and smiled to himself when he saw a vintage Formula 1 Ferrari, no bigger than the palm of his hand. He also spotted a racing helmet, but couldn’t recognize the driver it belonged to.

It wouldn’t have shocked him if the rest of this box was F1 inspired Christmas ornaments. Either ones you had purchased yourself or ones that were given to you as gifts. 

Charles was always amazed at your knowledge of Formula 1. With your father being a retired driver himself, he shouldn’t have been surprised when you swept him under the rug during a trivia night. He admired your passion for the sport and maybe that’s why when he met you in the Ferrari garage, he wasn’t as quick to judge you like he was to everyone else who had purchased VIP passes for the weekend. 

You were there for the sport, for the racing, you didn’t care who was driving the car, it wasn’t like you had favorite drivers.

You were raised to appreciate the history of the sport, the roots, the beginnings. Because of that, you were drawn to the older teams, the classics. Williams, McLaren and against your fathers wishes, Ferrari. So of course you wanted to experience the Ferrari hospitality during a race weekend at least once. To see the cars up close, to be in the garage, to see the race from an entirely new perspective.

It was Australia, the third race of the 2023 season. It was a race that Charles tried hard to forget due to his DNF at the first turn, but there were highlights he cherished before the incident. 

He remembered standing in the garage before the first practice session and turning his head to flash a smile towards the VIP members standing at the back. He paid no attention to any of them in particular, but you stood out. The way you were so focused on the screen, taking in the Tech Talk segment that was playing on F1TV. You hadn’t even noticed Charles looking.

He saw you again the second day, closer to the front of the group before the start of FP3. You were wearing a white set, arms crossed over your chest with the headphones resting around your neck. You weren’t watching anything this time, instead you were in the middle of a conversation with a few of the mechanics. 

At first, Charles thought they were flirting with you. But when you pointed at the rear wing, lines drawn across your forehead and eyebrows pinched together in studious fashion, Charles got the hint that this wasn’t just a casual conversation. 

And then you held out your hand to introduce yourself, your once serious expression turning soft. You smiled at the mechanics as you shook both of their hands, seeming truly grateful to have met them. 

Naturally, Charles was curious as to what sort of conversation just took place. He waited a few minutes before asking Mark, the one of two mechanics who seemed to be doing most of the talking. 

“What was that about?” Charles asked.

Mark looked over his shoulder at you, but you were too engrossed in the screen again to notice the few sets on you.

“You don’t know who she is?” Mark asked. 

“Should I?” Charles glanced your way. This time, you caught it. 

You were also the first to look away.

“Damon Hill’s daughter,” Mark chuckled, probably in disbelief himself over who he just met. “She’s also got her masters in engineering. You know what she pointed out- the activation time for DRS is delayed compared to everyone else on the grid. I don’t know how she noticed it, but we’ll take a look at the data and if she’s onto something we’ll fix it before qualifying.”

Damon Hill’s daughter. The 1996 world champion. He had made a name for himself, known for being one of Schumacher's rivals during his prime. Charles knew he had kids, but didn’t know who they were. 

He wanted to introduce himself, but he waited till after qualifying. 

Was he a little taken aback when you seemed to be paying more attention to Carlos’ side of the garage at the end of the day? Maybe, but you had been watching him all weekend so far so he didn’t like the sudden change. 

His P7 starting position was nothing to be overly proud of, but the congratulations was the first thing out of your mouth when he approached you.

“Thank you,” he nodded, suddenly feeling a bit more pride now than five minutes ago. He glanced at the car and then back at you, at the VIP lanyard resting over your chest, at your eyes that momentarily had him forgetting why he walked over to you in the first place. 

You held your hand in the same polite manner you had with the mechanics and you introduced yourself as Charles shook it slowly. 

“Damon Hill’s daughter,” he stated. “I haven’t seen you around here before.”

You cocked your head slightly, “Is that a line?”

A blush crept up to his cheeks when he realised how flirtatious he sounded without trying to, “No- I mean,” he licked his lips. “I guess it could be but I wasn’t trying for that.”

“I only just graduated,” you answered his question, which wasn’t really a question. “Figured I’d watch a few races, check out a few teams before I decide if I want to dip my toe in the motorsports field.”

“Driver?” He asked, eyebrows raised even though Mark had told him what you studied. But you laughed and Charles was glad he brought up the idea of you getting behind the wheel. He could get used to your laugh. 

“Engineer,” you corrected. “To be honest, I think IndyCar might be more my thing. Plus I know Arrow McLaren is looking to expand, hire a few more performance engineers. Mind if I use you as a reference? I saw those mechanics working on your DRS set up, don’t let them take the credit for catching the activation error.”

It was his turn to laugh. He liked your humour, something else he could get used to.

“Mark mentioned you pointed it out,” Charles nodded, unable to keep from smiling. He liked the way you spoke. Not only did he find your accent endearing, but he liked how sure you were of yourself. You knew your talents, you knew what you were capable of. He admired it. 

“Good luck tomorrow,” you said, taking it upon yourself to end the conversation. You adjusted the purse over your shoulder and gave him a soft smile. “It was nice meeting you, Charles.”

And then you walked off, happily letting someone else from the team accompany you, probably an engineer. Probably someone who could match your expertise in a conversation.

Charles didn’t know when he’d see you again, but he took it upon himself to make sure it was sooner than later.

Following Australia, the drivers had a bit of a break. Almost an entire month.

It was only a few days into the break when he asked his manager to get Damon Hill’s contact information. 

Confused was an understatement when your dad called you and said ‘Tell me why I just got an unsolicited text from Charles Leclerc asking if he could have your phone number’. 

By the end of the week, Charles had flown you from Paris, where you resided at the time, to Nice. He was there at the airport to pick you up and drive you to Monaco. 

You spent that entirety of the break together. 

Charles was smitten. As were you. 

But you were cautious. 

You knew first hand that racing was at the top of his priority list. You weren’t about to get your hopes up and think that these few weeks meant anything. He just had time on his hands and you showed interest. 

However, it was hard not to fall for Charles. He treated you well when you were together. He was easy to talk to. He made you feel safe, admired, wanted. He asked all the questions he could think of to get to know you. He made you breakfast in the morning, or at least he tried to. The mornings when you woke up to the smell of burnt eggs were just as entertaining. Plus you figured you could get used to the way he wrapped his arm around your waist as you took over. The kisses he peppered on your shoulder that tempted you towards pulling him back to the bedroom.

By the time the season picked up again for round 4 in Baku, you were so used to being around him that you had to tell yourself not to be hurt that he didn't suggest you go with him.

You and Charles did a lot of things during those few weeks, but never once did you label what you were. That conversation never came up. Neither did the exclusivity talk.

He still called. He texted you daily. He treated you like you were special, but racing came before a relationship. Even your dad reminded you of that. He told you not to dwell on it, that Charles would come to his senses when he felt secure with the team, with the season. He didn’t need the support of a girlfriend, he needed the support of his team.

And then Charles informed you he was flying you out to Miami. He wanted you to watch the race again. He wanted you there. 

You didn’t accompany him to the track, but he greeted you with wide arms and the brightest grin when you showed up at the Ferrari garage. His hand stayed on your lower back for a bit as he showed you around, giving you a proper tour but when you came across Mark it was almost as if Charles passed you off. 

He said ‘Here, chat with Mark for a bit, I’m sure you’ve got some opinions about the car’ and then he walked away.

You tried not to think too much about it, maybe he had obligations, media, signings, something. He wouldn’t fly you out to Miami and abandon you the first chance he got. He was a driver, he had priorities. You weren’t one of them, not yet.

It was a difficult situation to be in. When Charles gave you his attention, he gave you every ounce of it. But when he was gone, he was gone. Distant, on his phone, sometimes he quite literally disappeared like at the end of the day on Saturday and you were left in the Ferrari garage wondering where the hell he got off to. 

But then he knocked on your hotel room door at a little after 10 and who were you to turn him away? 

Charles pulled you towards the bed, dragging you with him as he laid on the mattress. He asked about your day between the kisses he left down your neck. You answered as best as you could, but when his hands found the button of your trousers, it became a little more difficult to collect your thoughts. 

When he gave you his attention, he gave you every ounce of it. 

You had forgotten all about his disappearances earlier. They didn’t matter, he was here now. His lips trailing every inch of your skin as your back curved off the bed. You tried to remind him that he had a race tomorrow, that you both could just go to sleep if he wanted but Charles only smirked and raised his face back to yours.

He hovered his lips above yours, teasing you with a ghost of a kiss, “Ma chérie, I’m not going to sleep until I hear you scream my name.”

He kissed the corner of your lips and then trailed down towards your ear, adding a quiet, “At least twice,” to the end of the original statement. 

And Charles was true to his word. He had you seeing stars with just his tongue alone in a matter of minutes. 

Charles worshipped you, he took care of you. In a short period of time, he came to know your body and how to get the reactions he desired. He loved seeing you come undone, loving being the one to bring you to the edge and watch you spill over. 

Maybe it was a pride he was chasing, but you wouldn’t think of that possibility until it was too late.

When he climbed under the covers next to you at the end of the night, you could still make out the shape of his body, his gentle features, even in the dark. Your hand found his chest, sliding upwards until it wrapped around his shoulders, pulling yourself closer to him.

He traced his fingers over your cheek, pushing a strand of hair out of your face as he whispered, “Comment ai-je eu cette chance?” How did I get so lucky? 

That did it for you.

You weren’t just smitten anymore. You were in love. 

Another impromptu break after Miami meant you had a few more weeks with Charles before he had to give his attention back to racing. You didn’t spend it all in Monaco this time. After about a week, Charles suggested the two of you go back to your home. Back to Paris.

Paris with him was heavenly. 

The rest of the world didn’t matter when it was just the two of you together. Your days were spent taking in the city, your evenings were spent in a variety of restaurants, lounges, anywhere he could spoil you, it seemed. 

It was nearing your last few days before he had to leave when he suggested you take a midnight stroll. The weather was perfect, the streets wouldn’t be too busy. You had no reason to say no. 

And there was something about walking the streets of Paris with Charles at night, holding his hand while he spun you under his arm beneath the glow of a street lamp. The Eiffel Tower was sparkling in the distance. Charles’ eyes lit up brighter than it. 

There was something about him. About this moment. About the last few months. All of it led up to standing here with him now.

And you knew better, but that didn’t stop you.

“I love you.”

And just like that, you faded into madness. Slowly, silently, but it was inevitable. 

Charles didn’t say anything. His lips parted like he wanted to, like he thought about it, only to ultimately lick his lips and inhale a sharp breath. 

By saying I love you, you plunged a knife into your own chest, opening yourself up to vulnerability, but his silence only twisted it in deeper. 

You backed up, hand dropping from his. Was that his doing or yours? He whispered your name, but only out of pity. He didn’t love you. He didn’t love you. 

Suddenly Paris didn’t seem so heavenly.

Charles left that night. Maybe he thought you were asleep, but you heard the door swing on its hinges. You heard the wheels of his suitcase being dragged out into the hallway. You turned over in bed, despite knowing you’d find his side empty, but you didn’t think it would turn cold so fast. 

A few days later, Charles was spotted walking into the paddock of the Monaco Grand Prix, but he wasn’t alone.

Next to him, the stunning Alexandra Saint Mleux. Even her name was beautiful.

You had heard whispers that Charles and her had a history, but you didn’t think anything of it. Why would you worry yourself with speculation when he was putting you on a pedestal when you were together? 

He had a way of making you feel wanted, but you weren’t the only one who felt that way.

Did she know you two were together? That he was with you in Paris? Was he seeing both of you or did he run back to her the second you told him something he wasn’t ready to hear?

You tried to move on, really. There was no relationship for you to cling to, Charles never said you were exclusive. He just knew the right words to say to make you feel like you were. 

You flew to Indianapolis for the Indy500. A rash decision, but the further away from Monaco the better. Your connections at Arrow McLaren gave you the chance to get a closer look at the inner workings of the team, had you momentarily forgetting about Charles. You wanted to be an engineer, not the girlfriend of a driver. You told yourself to get it together.

But then you returned home and seeing the slippers you had bought for Charles had you wondering why you couldn’t be both. You would have been both if he just said something, if he just told you he loved you. 

You should have distanced yourself from Formula 1, at least for a little while. You should have turned down the invitation from a partnering brand of Ferrari, enticing you to come to Spain for the race. You should have flown back to the states, reconnect with Arrow McLaren.

Instead you found yourself in Barcelona. The entire time you were there you knew it was a mistake and if you couldn’t figure that out on your own, seeing Alexandra chat with some Ferrari team members below while you sat up above in the hospitality was a painful reminder. 

Part of you considered talking to her. You wanted to know if she was in the same boat you were- and if she was clueless, maybe give her a heads up that Charles was going to say sweet nothings to her at night only to leave her in the dark. 

But Alexandra wasn’t the one you needed to talk to.

Between practice and qualifying on Saturday, you made your way to the paddock knowing that’s where Charles would be. You walked past Alexandra chatting to someone a few motorhomes down, so you felt better knowing she wasn’t currently with him.

Luck would have it, you ran into Mark outside of Ferrari. He invited you in of course, always happy to chat about the sport with someone who appreciated it on the same level and you assured him you would, you just had to talk to Charles first.

You knocked on the door of his driver's room, not even sure what you were going to say. You were hurt, you were saddened, you were angry but you hadn't had time to think about what you would say to him when you were finally face to face again.

The door swung open and there he was. Shocked to see you, first of all, but not upset. You stood in the hallway and watched as Charles took a breath of relief, a sliver of a smile creeping up on his lips as he held the door open for you to walk in.

Your heart jolted at the idea that maybe, he still wanted you. The look he gave you was almost enough for you to forget he hadn’t said a word to you since you told him you loved him. 

Almost. 

You stepped in and leaned against the door after it shut, keeping a safe distance as he stood back against the massage table. 

Your lips parted, but before you could get a word out, his phone started to ring. You both glanced at the contact, at who was trying to get a hold of him.

Alexandra.

You swallowed, waiting until he let it go to voicemail before your timid voice filled the room. “You love her?”

Maybe Charles didn’t know how to love anyone. You’d believe it, with the way he tensed the second the word passed through your lips. He didn’t say yes, but he didn’t say no, either.

“I can’t commit, Y/N.” He tried to say, like that made up for everything. Like that’s the answer you were looking for. 

“No, you can, Charles, but not to me.” You stated, keeping your voice calm. You weren’t one to yell. Causing a scene wasn’t your thing. You were always so soft spoken. Soft spoken, but straight to the facts. “Were you seeing both of us at the same time?”

“She knows, if that's what you're wondering." Charles quickly slid that piece of information in there. “She found out- about us. Threatened to leave me if-”

“If you didn’t choose?” You raised your eyebrows. Once again, his silence spoke volume. “So did you make up your mind before or after Paris?”

Charles averted his gaze for a second, “I realised in Paris I couldn’t love you the way you loved me.”

“You probably realised that a lot earlier,” you pointed out.

Charles must have known you adored him. There was no way he didn’t see the way you looked at him, the way you worshipped him. He knew and still strung you along, making you think he could love you back if you were just patient.

“You didn’t need to lead me on as long as you did, Charles.”

“I didn’t want to lose you.”

I didn’t want to lose you, he says. Bringing light to the fact that he had you. You were his, in a sense. Despite never saying the words out loud. 

But he was never yours.

“So I was there, for what?” You asked. “As a backup? In case things with Alexandra didn’t work out?”

Charles was intimated by how calm you were. He would have preferred if you yelled at him, if you fought with him. It would make it easier on both ends to put whatever this relationship was to rest. Instead, you were serene. You came here to talk, to get answers, you didn’t come here to form a divide. 

Because if you were being honest with yourself, you weren’t ready to let go. How could you let go when you hadn’t spoken? He hadn’t given you closure, he didn’t say I don’t love you he just…didn’t say anything. 

You weren’t going to beg for him to come back, but in the far corners of your mind you were hoping that your appearance here would make him question his decision. You were banking on the idea that when he saw you, he’d remember what he saw in the first place when you met in Australia. 

If he changed his mind right now, you’d put all of this behind you. You’d stay at his side, you’d be there for him, you’d be his for real this time.

If he, once again, said nothing, you’d go. You’d go and you’d stay gone.

“I loved you,” you whispered. The past tense striking Charles more than he thought it would, but he didn’t show it. Loved. You loved him, and you still could. 

Thirty seconds passed. Then a minute. Almost two and the only thing that lingered between you was silence. Heavy, loud, painful silence. 

You grabbed the handle of the door and decided enough time had gone on. You deserved better than this, than a man who couldn’t make a decision, than someone who played with your feelings because they couldn’t figure out their own. 

The second you pulled the door back, your name fell from Charles’ lips. You were one step into the hall, halfway to gone, and he stopped you. 

All he had to do was say don’t go. All he had to do was tell you he wanted you. 

With your back still to the Ferrari driver, you waited for those next words but they never came. You knew they wouldn’t. 

That was the last time you spoke to Charles. You knew how to stay true to your word too. 

So why was he suddenly here, six months later, sitting on your couch and looking at you like he was waiting for you to say something first when you made it clear a long time ago if you were gone, you were gone.

Charles only took a sip of his tea before putting it on the coffee table. He then moved the box of Christmas ornaments, not liking the divide it put between you as if he wasn't the one to create the wedge in the first place. 

You were stupid, to speak first, but you were tired of the silence. He came here for a reason and if he wasn’t going to tell you why in the next two minutes, you were going to send him back out into the snow.

“How’s Alexandra?” You asked, not that you were interested in knowing if he was happy or thriving in his relationship. You were, however, impressed to see that he could in fact commit, but you were right about that. He just didn’t want to commit to you. 

“Do you care?” He asked in return. 

You shook your head slightly, “I do not.”

Charles smiled at your honesty. Your gentle tone didn’t match the brutal truth.

“So let’s not talk about her,” Charles said and you nodded in agreement. He shifted in his spot, glancing at the decorations, the tea, really anything but you. 

And you weren’t about to wait again, not if this was going to lead to the one thing your silence always led to. 

You sucked in a breath, “Charles if you don’t tell me why you’re here…”

He nodded, knowing that this was all on him. He was lucky enough to even be allowed into your home, and he knew you were slowly regretting that decision the longer he just didn’t get to the point. 

Charles lifted his head, eyes finally meeting yours. He even flinched, like he was trying to reach for your hand only to decide against it at the last second, relying on just his words for a change.

“I shouldn’t have let you go.”

Part 2 - now that we don’t talk

#charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 one shot #f1 fic #holllandtrash #say dont go #cl16 x reader #cl16

[speakergame]

Progress Update - 3/4/24

Hello and happy March!

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? 😅 Well, I finally have some good news for you this time: I have some actual news!

I'm happy to be able to announce at last that an update is on its way! I’ve still got some assets to make and code cleanup and testing to finish, but I should finally have something to show you soon.

I’ll put a cut at the end of this and go into more detail about the what and why of what I’ve been working on during this long and unintended hiatus, but the tl;dr is that I hope to have an update out by the end of the month, and that said update will break any saves made in Chapter 4. Unfortunate, but unavoidable, since Chapter 4 had to be recoded from the beginning 😞

I just want to thank all of you once again for sticking with me through my extended silence! Especially to my patrons who’ve put up with me putting everything on pause month after month while I dealt with my real life shit, and to everyone who’s sent me kind and supportive messages to let me know Speaker hasn’t been forgotten. It really means a lot to me.

Okay, enough of that sappy shit! I’m gonna get back to work finishing this up 😁 I’ll put out another update later this month once I have a more definite release date.

Thank you all for reading! I hope you’re having a fantastic 2024 so far, and that the rest of the week treats you kindly. See y’all soon! 💙💙💙

(For those who want a more detailed breakdown on what’s been happening and what to expect, hit the readmore)

I won’t go into the personal life stuff I’ve been dealing with this past year that has slowed down my work, but as far as the actual game goes: 

To put it simply, I just wasn’t happy with it. Some of it could be because of how many times I had to reread the same section while I was coding the scenes that would’ve taken place after the last update, but no matter how much I edited or rearranged it, I didn’t like how that scene turned out. There was something… formulaic that had been happening with the way I always laid out scenes, and a bit of stagnation in the story, character, and relationship development that bothered me.

So I rewrote it. And when I still didn’t like it, I rewrote it again. And I still didn’t like it. I thought about scrapping the whole thing on more than one occasion as I struggled to get out of the corner I’d written myself into.

Inspiration finally struck at the beginning of this year, thanks in part to another interactive novel I follow, and I really like the direction I’ve taken it now. 

Instead of the RO split scenes happening where the last one left off, Speaker, Seer, and Gavin are gonna have a chat about Things™ to move the next story arc forward. Then Speaker will get some downtime, by themself at first and then in an extended scene split with the RO of their choosing. 

All the Big Plot Things that were going to happen in Chapter 4 will be moved to Chapter 5 instead, and 4 will be a bit more of a filler episode. A deep breath before the plunge, as it were.

This split won’t just be a quick conversation/reaction from the RO, but a full on different direction for the rest of the chapter based on who you choose. Most of them will involve leaving the house; all of them will involve actual one-on-one time (or one-on-two time, as the case may be) away from the others. And though romance isn’t required, all of them will have the potential to really move the romance forward if you so choose. One or two might even have a lock-in choice (maybe. I’m not 100 percent on that, so don’t hold me to it) 

These scenes won’t be in the next update, because they’re all very complex, but the update will definitely have the Seer chat and at least some of the by-yourself stuff. The update after will have the rest of the alone time stuff (including the clothes/body CC you’ve all been waiting for), and then the one after will start the RO scenes. I think.

I may actually split the RO scenes into separate updates, and let my darlings over at Patreon vote for the order they’re released. That way I can focus on one at a time instead of trying to split my attention six ways at once.

Okay, that’s enough rambling for me today. Time to get back to work! Still got a lot to get done before this is ready, but it’s so close now.

#speaker game #progress update #so happy to finally have some progress to update about XD #maybe I can finally start answering some asks again too and fully resurrect this poor blog

[coryosmin]

reader finding out coryo’s cut his hair and now she can’t pull on his pretty curls when he eats her out :(

nsfw | mdni

imagine coryo and you were friends with benefits before he went to district 12. so when he comes back and hits you up to see you, you’re shocked to see him practically BALD. “oh my god!” you said, covering your mouth with your hand. “you’re bald!” you shouted as you looked at coriolanus as he was in the doorway of your lush apartment. you were dressed in a short dress, knowing coryo would be coming over.

coriolanus couldn’t help rolling his eyes. “yes, it’s what happens when you join the peacekeepers,” he replied sarcastically.

you pouted. “but now i can’t grab your curls when you eat me out,” you said, moving to let coriolanus walk into the apartment.

coriolanus looked at you amused. “oh so the first thing you think about when your friend is finally back from the districts is having me eat you out?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow at you. he closed the door behind himself before reaching out to you, putting his hands on your hips. “such a naughty girl.”

you blushed, wrapping your arms around coriolanus’s neck. “you’ve been gone for quite some time, coryo,” you sighed. “became so needy,” you said while pouting, leaning into coriolanus.

coriolanus mock pouted in return. “have you satisfied yourself at all while i’ve been gone?” he asked in a faux sympathetic tone.

“with my fingers,” you said. “never as good as when i’m with you.”

“well then maybe i should help you, hmm?” coryo said, guiding you to the couch.

you nodded your head, taking a seat. “missed you so much, coryo,” you said, automatically spreading your legs for him.

coriolanus hummed, kneeling down in front of you. “i’m sure you did, doll,” he said, kissing your thigh. he grabbed the hem of your dress, lifting it up off of you and tossing it to the side. “you’re so beautiful,” he sighed, looking at your body. “missed your beautiful body.” he pressed kisses along your legs, bringing his hands to the hem of your panties and pulling them down, wasting absolutely no time. he took your panties off, stuffing them into his pocket.

“am so wet for you, coryo,” you murmured, looking down at your friend. really you guys only fucked, there was barely a friendship there. but ultimately, he was kinda like your friend. you went to school together your whole life.

coryo took a moment to look at your glistening pussy, admiring it. “you’re always so wet for me, doll,” coriolanus looked up at you with his blue eyes. “been thinking about you everyday.” he reached his hand up to feel your pussy, spreading the wetness before bringing his fingers to his mouth. “always tastes so good,” he sighed.

and without any further delay, coryo buried his face into your cunt, attacking your clit with his tongue. you moaned, immediately reaching to grip his hair but realizing you couldn’t grip his curls so you just place your hands on his head. you whined in a small frustration, causing coryo to chuckle against your cunt.

he sucked on your clit, causing you to moan loudly. he moved his tongue to your hole, his nose rubbing against your clit as he ate you out messily and sloppily. you closed your eyes in pleasure, throwing your head back and pushing coryo’s face against your cunt. your hands wanted to badly to grip his hair but instead, you had to paw at his buzz cut.

“please grow out your hair,” you moaned, eyes still closed in pleasure.

coriolanus didn’t reply except by gripping your hips, pressing his tongue deeper into your pussy. just like he was meant to do.

and a month later, his hair was grown out long enough for you to grip, making the both of you very happy.

#minsasks #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow #thg #thg tbosas #tbosas #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow smut #pookie bear asks

[emmyrosee]

Hey if you’re ever not busy can you do a Suna fic where he just got his wisdom teeth removed😭I’ve seen it done on so many haikyuu characters but Suna and I think it’s so cute. You also write him the best😓

THANK YOU THANK YOU FOR THE KIND WORDS AND THE ADORABLE PROMPT 😭💖💖💖

—-

The nurse told you that they’d used a strong anesthetic because of how impacted his teeth were, but when it took them quite a few times to finally wake him up, you knew you were in for a ride.

Rintaro always hated the dentist. Always. He blames it on childhood trauma (he didn’t have any. He never brushed his teeth and that was his problem) but up until last night, months after his dentist told him he’d need an extraction as soon as possible, he’d been trying to get out of it.

Deep down, seeing him so relaxed in the chair was a relief. The teeth were out, now he has to heal. Easy enough.

You smile as you make your way over to his slowly waking body, taking his hand gently in yours to be the first thing when he woke up. Kissing the knuckles finally had him stirring, and he blinked those bleary green eyes open at you, you practically saw the hearts forming in them.

“Morning, sunshine,” you coo, moving your free hand over to card the messy locks of hair from his face. “How do you feel?”

He tries to speak, but it comes out as a croaky ‘guhhh’ and from a few feet away, the nurse chuckles.

“He’ll have some nasty cotton mouth- literally- for the next few days, but communication should be normal as he starts to wake up,” she says, snapping the gloves off her hands. Then, she passes you the care directions, “no rush. If you need anything, just press the buzzer.” At this point, Rintaro has taken the liberty of grabbing all the gauze he can to put in his mouth. You assume it’s to absorb all the spittle.

“No, no honey,” you chuckle, gently grabbing his hands and pulling the damp cloth out easily. “Be careful. We can change your gauze when we get home.”

“I ‘ont wonna shange my gods,” he mumbles, resting his hands on yours. “‘Ike my gods.”

“Gauze, baby,” you titter. You lean over to plant some kissed onto his forehead, hoping your affections will ease him back more. “The nurse said you might be woozy when you stand, so let’s take it slow okay?”

“Yesh, bosh,” he slurs out. He blinks his foggy eyes before letting them wander around the room, over the sharp objects and wooden cupboards, all before wandering back to you. They widen before a brow quirks in confusion, "who're you 'gain?"

"Me?" You snicker. "I'm the one who's gonna keep you alive for the next few days. Your parents are away, so you're stuck with me." You turn your head slightly, "though that may be the other way around."

"Keep me 'live?" Now, he gives you a small, messy smirk. "'re too schexy to keep me 'live."

"Are you hitting on me?"

He doesn't answer you. Instead, he lets out a small string of laughter, head rolling around his neck in haze. You snort before opting to move him up and out of the room, "come on Romeo. Before you pass out on me."

"nuh-uh," he argues. You, however, choose to ignore him.

It's hard to pay attention when there's a pile of 185 centimeter man on your right shoulder, saying goodbye to every hygienist, dentist, secretary, patron, and flower on the sidewalk on the way to the car. There's a slurp from the spittle in his mouth that rings in your ear and makes you want to gag, but you chose to count some of your blessings.

He's at least mobile- unlike the horror stories you've heard about Osamu falling asleep in the seat while Atsumu wailed about the bandaid on his arm.

Finally, you and your oaf are able to make it to the car, his eyes closed in an attempt to sleep, and you jostle him awake slightly.

"I need you to work with me just a bit longer, okay?"

"When'd we get ousside?" He slurs.

"Not long after you said goodbye to the flowers," you say, rolling your eyes. "Watch your head, babe."

He ducks under your guiding palm, but you're not fast enough before he bumps the crown of his head against the door frame, mumbling a soft "ow" before moving on. It takes everything in your power to not laugh at his poor expense.

"It's because you've got such a big melon head, booger," you tease, and he smiles softly.

"'Ike mewons."

"I know baby."

You buckle him in before closing the door. You give yourself a stretch before heading to the driver's side.

You hadn't had him out of your sight for 25 seconds before you open the door and see him with your chapstick, completely rolled up and making a move towards his mouth.

He's either eating it, or trying to apply it.

Neither sounds like a good idea.

“Rintaro!” You scold, reaching for the chapstick. “You can’t eat that! You’ll get sick!”

“You’re th'ick,” he grumbles, but he does release his hold on your chapstick. His head thunks back against the headrest, letting you buckle while he says one more round of goodbyes to the flowers.

"Gonna nap," he murmurs, and you chose not to fight him on it. "Don't pick mah nothe."

"Why the hell would I do that?" You ask, laughing as you start the car.

He doesn't answer you. He's too busy letting his jaw slack open and let out the wheeziest of snores. You put your hand on his thigh and squeeze lovingly, allowing the hum of the engine and warmth from the sun lull him to sleep.

He's out, he's comfortable, and you can't wait to tell him about how, even drugged out of his mind, he still tried to put the moves on you.

You'll have to leave out the head smacking, though. Let him blame himself for that bruising.

#im not proud at how long this took me to post #but leave me alone #suna rintaro #suna rintaro fluff #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro x gn!reader #suna rintaro x reader fluff #suna rintaro imagine #suna rintaro haikyuu #suna #suna fluff #suna x reader #suna x reader fluff #suna x gn!reader #suna imagine #suna haikyuu #haikyuu #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x gn!reader #haikyuu x gender neutral reader #haikyuu x yn #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n

[fatuismooches]

Hello

I just saw your post with the fragile SO and honestly I loved it sooo much ❤️

Now I wanted to request kinda of a follow up. Like what if before you died you wrote them a letter, saying how much you love them and how they made your last days on earth so memorable and stuff like that. And they found it, like maybe a month or so after your death. How would they all react? (I'm specially curious of Capitano because you said you thought he would think that he killed you 😭)

I really love your writing and I plan to make more request in the future 👋

-🦎

♡𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐥𝐞/𝐖𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐃𝐢𝐞𝐝 ♡

synopsis: The Harbingers are made of steel, unflinching in any possible situation. But it seems that even such strong beings falter in the face of their lover's death, especially after they find a letter you left behind. Can be read as a part 2 to this.

includes: all harbingers (platonic pulcinella) w/ gn! reader

notes: Hop on the angst train, everyone. This is the first completely angsty thing I've written, and probably one of my favorites + longest pieces. I hope you enjoy this sadness, anon...!

Pierro:

Pierro carried on. He went about his day, filing paperwork, assigning duties to new recruits. What could he do? There was no time to mourn. The entire Fatui depended on his guidance and orders. He couldn’t just drop everything to fully devote himself to grieving you. But everyone knew - in any spare moment he had, he was thinking about you. Thinking about how he used to be able to go home to you waiting for him. Thinking about the walks he took with you that were heartwarming despite the body-chilling temperature. Thinking about when you were alive.

It was another day when one of your maids came to him with a piece of paper. Of course, she was terrified at being in the presence of the Harbinger, but she presented a folded piece of paper to him, stating that she had found it while cleaning your room. Pierro hadn’t been in there for a while. He was consciously trying his best to avoid it, choosing to pick up work instead. He nodded and the maid quickly scurried out of the room. It was most likely a final memento from you. He should honor that, he thought as he took off his mask.

Dear Pierro,

Hello there, my love. I hope your day wasn’t too tiring. I know how you’re always swamped with your Fatui business and such. You’re the head Harbinger, you know! You should definitely abuse your power to get some more days off. You didn’t hear that from me though, not like I wanna keep you to myself or anything. Totally not because I’m dying to spend some more time with you before I quite literally die. 

You know, sometimes I wish I was a Fatui soldier just so that I could admire you from afar some more. Those recruits are damn lucky, getting to see you more than I do. I don’t mean to complain though. I’m still tremendously grateful for everything you’ve done for me. I’ve had the pleasure of enjoying the best moments of my life with you. Yeah, even when I made jokes you still had that stoic look on your face but it was still hilarious. I loved when you would wrap me in your coat and tell me stories about Khaenri’ah. Even when you weren’t here, I loved when these random recruits would be scurrying to my room every so often to deliver your handwritten notes. 

Truly, there’s no life I’d rather live than this one… minus the illness part though. I am sorry to make you shoulder another death, my dear, but I love you greatly. I will always be with you.

Quietly, Pierro put the paper down and rubbed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. Ever since the fall of his nation, his heart had long gone numb. He had tried to ignore the prickling of his heart after your death, but your letter was really rubbing it on. When was the last time mere words could stir up such emotion in him? He didn’t know. But he promised you, this would not be your final resting place. Pierro knew, after fulfilling the Tsaritsa’s promise, he would see you again.

Capitano:

Capitano wasn’t very photogenic. After all, all you saw was a helmet shrouding his face in darkness along with his pitch-black armor and clothes. But you had insisted on taking a variety of pictures with him, claiming that it kept you happy. It wasn’t until later on when he stumbled across a scrapbook, with pages covered in photos of the two of you together, that he understood why. Since then, he let you do as you please. The doctors said it was good for you to keep occupied by doing things you liked. And well, it was rather cute, with all the decorations and fancy tape you added. Capitano often found himself looking at it to see what you added when you weren’t around.

But ever since your death, he hadn’t looked at it since. If he did, he didn’t think he’d be able to control the emotions boiling up inside of him. If he looked at your smiling face again, the pain and regret would be too much to bear. But as the days passed by and he continued to think about you, he couldn’t help but flip open the scrapbook, revisiting the memories he made with you so long ago. He flipped until he found a envelope in the middle, causing him to perk up. It had been sealed perfectly, even stamped with one of his seals. Now, Capitano didn’t want to invade your privacy, but what was inside called to him too much, and he very carefully unsealed it with a knife. Inside was a piece of parchment, similar to the ones he used to send you letters.

My knight,

I’m writing this after you just left for an expedition. You’ve just fed me breakfast (a/d fa//ed, but it’s f/ne b/ca/se it w/s c/te.) (The ending part of the sentence has been erased, but it’s still a bit readable.) We took an early bath together, and you helped me choose a nice outfit for today. You dutifully assisted me with my medicine and tucked me back into bed for some rest. Lastly, you’ve just tenderly kissed me with all the love in the world, my favorite part of course.

It’s too bad that I won’t be able to receive any more of your kisses soon. I think the sickness is really catching up to me, haha. (There are some doodles of the two of you randomly drawn in the middle of the paper, with lots of hearts and stars and rainbows. Maybe you stopped because you didn’t know how to continue.) To be honest, I’ve asked the doctors not to tell you, and somehow, they’ve listened to me. I just don’t want you to worry about me. Somehow, for someone as menacingly looking as you, you worry a lot more than I thought (no offense, though.)

I don’t want you to blame yourself for anything, my love. You genuinely made my life so, so much better. Even towards the end, I can only feel happiness that I was able to share some of my life with someone so incredible. You aren’t a monster. You’re the man I love dearly, the one who many people look up to all the time. You did everything and more, which really warms my heart.

I’m saying this because I know how you are and I need to knock some sense into you before you start getting any crazy ideas. Please don’t beat yourself up. If I could choose my destiny, I’d rather choose to be sick and be with you rather than being healthy. I’d choose you again and again, over and over, my dear. I love you, truly.

Carefully folding the letter, he tucked it into the envelope again and resealed it. He snugly placed it back into the scrapbook and closed it, placing it back into the drawer where he usually kept it. Capitano was used to the grief and destruction that war brought. But he wasn’t used to it when love brought these feelings upon him. His heart still hurt - terribly so - but… your letter seems to have brought him some peace. You would forever be in his heart.

Columbina:

It had been a while since your death. By now, everyone had become accustomed to hearing her songs every day. It was a constant reminder of your passing. Oftentimes,  Columbina had begun to stay in your room longer than her own. You were gone, but something about your space soothed her soul a bit from all the grief she was going through. And she also liked to go through your stuff and remember different things about you.

There was a box that contained a compilation of the many songs and poems she gifted you, along with some that you created yourself with her help. Sometimes, she liked to go through the box and think about you, but she never had the time to inspect every piece. Until now, when she noticed that there was an unfamiliar piece of paper that she didn’t recognize. Columbina picked it up and began to read.

My lovely melody,

Lately, I’ve begun to sing more. I think you’ve inspired me. I hope you don’t mind me stealing that one song you like to hum the most. The only problem is that I don’t have enough stamina to sing for that long, and I think my voice is kind of off-key. But I promise I’m working on it! I’m not going to tell you yet because I want to surprise you with something nice, as a thank you for taking care of me for so long.

Actually, there’s another problem, and it’s that… (it seems that you wrote a lot of words here and then scratched them out; perhaps you were unsure how to word it) Well, I guess I don’t really know if I’ll live long enough to perform for you. It’s been kind of tough lately. But I’m going to persevere for you. Your poems have been helping a lot. We should make a book of them one day. And um, in the case that I don’t make it, I would like you to know how happy you made me.

I always got so giddy when I heard you humming down the hallway. Nothing felt better than when you would croon to me and massage my scalp and play with my hair. You are so comforting and sweet, and just - lots of things that would be too much to write. I always feel eternally fortunate that I was able to have a lover as amazing as you. You really did change my life. I love you very much, Columbina. Please don’t forget me.

Columbina’s usual smile had turned into a downward curve. Oh, how she wished she could hear you sing. Your usual voice and laugh had already been angelic to her, she knew your songs would be beautiful too. But you were no longer here. She would have really loved to hear your song. You would have been the best duet partner. But perhaps, you could hear her songs from the other world as she laid on your coffin once again.

Dottore:

Dottore hadn’t entered your room since your death. He was far too busy with his research and experimentation with resurrection. Mourn you? No, no, you weren’t going to be dead for long, after he finds the answer. You would be back in his arms soon enough. Both of you would be fine. That was, until no matter how hard he researched, he always seemed to hit a dead end. It was frustrating. He couldn’t believe it, but he was at the point where he willingly needed a couple of minutes to rest. Dottore headed to his room, but as he placed his hand on the doorknob, something stopped him and he looked over to the room next to his, yours. He silently walked over and opened your room, having not been in it for a while. The only reason you didn’t share a room was that his was very… bland, boring, not very comfortable, and not spacious enough for the medical equipment.

It was the same as he had left it, not bothering to change anything. You liked to decorate it, and he let you. Framed photos of the two of you were on the dresser, lights hung up around the room. It seemed to make you happy. But there was something he had not noticed before - a slip of paper sticking out from under the pillow. Dottore walked over and took off his mask - something he unconsciously tended to do when it was just the two of you - and opened the folded paper.

To Zandik,

I remember when you first took interest in me, looking at me up and down with your mask on, a wide smirk on your face. I knew my parents said they hired someone intelligent to cure me, but I sure didn’t expect it to be the second Harbinger. I think you already know this, but when I saw you, I was kinda scared for my life. And I was for a while, especially when you made me drink the most hellish concoctions and injected strange things into me. But long story short, I still fell in love with you somehow. Even though you were probably trying so hard just because you wanted to solve the mystery of my illness, I couldn’t help but think you were quite handsome when you focused on something so intensely. Your pointy teeth were the cutest. (The previous sentence has been erased but Dottore could still make it out. You were an idiot, he thinks.)

I don’t mean to insult your intelligence or skill… but I don’t think I’m going to make it, Dottore. I know you’ve been trying really, really hard (I was there the whole time, after all) to help cure me, but I think you know better than me about my condition. So yeah. I guess this is my goodbye… my parting letter.

I know you don’t care about anyone or anything really, but I hope you accept it when I say I genuinely enjoyed our time together. Yea, you were hella terrifying and a lot of scary stories drifted about you, but there was a lot of maniacal laughter and you rambling on about things I had no clue about, but I would always happily listen to you, Zandik. I would write more, but I don’t think you’re one for sappy words and stuff like that. So I’ll leave end it here. I love you very much.

His mouth was a straight thin line at the end of your letter. Dottore put his mask back on and tucked your letter into his coat. For once, he couldn’t blame someone for insulting his intelligence. He did fail, after all. But Dottore was no stranger to failure. Experimentation was a series of trials and errors, failures and successes. He swore to himself that you would not be a failure. Perhaps his journey to Sumeru, the land of wisdom, would grant him some more insight for your resurrection.

Pulcinella:

It was just after your funeral. Surprisingly, all the Harbingers had gathered too. It seemed like they had grown somewhat fond of you after Pulcinella introduced you to them, at least enough to attend your funeral. Pulcinella was grateful. He had spoken a few words in memory of you. He couldn’t keep everyone for long. They had other matters to attend to. But in his heart, he had a lot of dear words for you. 

Pulcinella sat down at his desk, deciding to do some paperwork to distract his mind. He pulled out the drawer to retrieve some items but he noticed a piece of paper stuffed to the back of it. He certainly had not put that there. He reached for it and opened it to read the contents.

Hey Papanella,

Do you like that nickname I came up with? I haven’t said it to you yet because I’m not sure how you’ll react. But I think it’s pretty cute. I haven’t said this out loud yet either but… um, I guess you’re like my dad to me. My own parents never cared much for me after my illness proved to be too much work, but you always treated me so kindly. So yeah. Thanks for being a father figure to me. Archons, this is kind of embarrassing.

I’m admitting this because I don’t know how much longer I have. I know you’re always encouraging me to keep living on, and I really do appreciate it. I’m sincerely trying my best, but I think my sickness has been getting worse. Ah, and thanks for introducing me to the Harbingers. They’re pretty scary but they’re kind of cool when you get to know them. Some of them are cute too. Please don’t tell them I said that. But really, for the longest time, I thought my life would amount to nothing, and that no one would remember me. But you proved me wrong. I truly enjoyed spending the last of my days doing old people stuff with you (just kidding of course!)

I’m going to ask you to tell me lots of more stories when I see you again. They really make my day. I like the ones about you in your youth the best. They’re the funniest. Anyway, I love you, gramps. Don’t miss me too much.

Pulcinella was old. He had seen things be built and broken down, people come and go. But he always hated it the most when he had to see youngsters go before he did. Especially innocent ones who had done nothing wrong. He just prayed, that whichever world you were in now, treated you better than this one did.

Scaramouche:

Ever since your death, the soldiers had been on the receiving end of Scaramouche’s insults even more. No longer were you here to hastily save them from his berating, much to their dismay.  They actually appreciated you for stopping Scaramouche from giving them another verbal (and sometimes even physical) beating. But now if he wasn’t yelling at someone, he was deathly silent, which was why even scarier than his words. Everyone knew they were forbidden from speaking about you in his presence.

When Scaramouche had to visit Inazuma for whatever reason, he always found himself walking towards your house. Once he had came across the Tenryou Commission moving your items out of your house, due to no one living there anymore and the want for someone else to buy it. Needless to say, he swiftly dealt with them and sent them on their way with rage. They had tried a few more times and he did not hold back, until later they stopped coming, apparently after the head shrine maiden gave an order on the behalf of the Shogun to leave the residence alone. Hmph.

He doesn’t know why he keeps coming here, the only thing that’s different is the new collection of dust on the dresser. But the want to see you again keeps calling him, only to leave Scaramouche sorely disappointed. He thinks he knows every nook and cranny of your house, that is until he walks on a floorboard that caves in and nearly makes him fall. He’s about to lose his temper until he sees a piece of paper hidden under the floor. The words die in his throat as he picks it up to inspect.

To my beloved Kunikuzushi,

As I write this, you’re probably yelling at some unfortunate Fatui soul and they’re all trembling in their boots. Haha, I wish I was there to see that. You should be nicer, you know. But it is kinda funny to see you mad. I hope you come back soon… it’s getting too quiet around here without your quips and remarks.

But I know as you read this, I’m no longer alive. Kuni, I… (There are wrinkled spots around this area, presumably from your tears.)

I love you, and I don’t want rage and hatred to consume you again. I’m sorry to make your heart bear such pain again. It may be fruitless to say this, but please don’t blame yourself… it was out of our control. Please know I enjoyed every moment with you, whether you were cursing at some guy who bumped into me, even when you teased me relentlessly, or silently crying in my arms about your fate. But my favorite part was your soft smiles which grew more frequent. You are loved very much by me too. I want to see you smile more, many more times before I- (The rest of the sentence was scribbled over with a pen, making it unreadable.)

I wish I didn’t have to depart so soon… I wish I was born someone else, someone more strong and healthier… if I was, would our story be different, Kuni? Perhaps we’ll meet again one day… hopefully, sooner rather than later, and maybe I won’t be the same as I am now, but…

Will you wait for me, Kunikuzushi?

Scaramouche hated when he cried. He felt weak, stupid, and disgusting, especially when you were there. And somehow, he couldn’t help but feel worse than that when he finished reading your letter. He was never favored by the Gods, having been betrayed by one already. It seemed as though he was always fated to be betrayed by people he cared about. But he knew deep down that you didn’t betray him, he did instead by not being able to protect and save you. In an effort to bury his despair, anger, and grief, he would wipe himself clean of foolish human emotions, ready to ascend to godhood with his creator’s Gnosis…

Arlecchino:

Arlecchino’s days had been exactly the same ever since your death. They were the same as before she had met you too. Bland. Boring. Dull. It was after your passing that she truly realized how much your presence had added some thrill and color into her life. Now they were empty. But she was used to that. She had felt that way for a long time.

Arlecchino didn’t do much in her room besides sleep. Her room wasn’t anything special, just the standard and rich master bedroom. That was, until you took it upon yourself to decorate it. She hadn’t bothered to change it despite the style being very much different from hers. Today she had come in briefly to retrieve some documents under her bed. But, there was a random piece of paper there, collected dust on top of it, most likely from being placed there a long time ago. Arlecchino opened the folded paper and was greeted with your handwriting.

To my sunshine,

I bet you’re wondering why the hell I chose “sunshine” of all names. Even I can admit that you are nothing like sunshine. But I wanted to spice things up a bit, and to be honest, you bring a lot of sunshine into my heart and dreary little life, despite your stone-cold face. So yeah! I don’t think I can call you that to your face though. It’d be too scary.

I didn’t tell you, but I’ve had some people ask me why I chose to stay with you despite my health being what it is. My answer is always very easy - I love you, Arlecchino. Plain and simple. They don’t know how you are with me (which I’m kinda glad for… I want to keep this side of you to myself; yes, I know I’m greedy.) The way your lips quirk up for a split second then always turn downwards because you don’t want anyone to see. The way your eyes soften for a bit when I tell a corny joke. Or when I do anything actually. Your facial expressions are pretty cute.

Ahem, moving on from that, I guess you can say that I’m not too scared to say these things because I might be leaving you soon. Not of my free will, of course. Rather, it seems like the time my illness is allowing me to live is limited. Hopefully, you don’t notice anything off about me. I don’t think I could explain all of this in person… 

But I am really thankful to you for sticking by my side for so long. Even though you don’t tell me, I know sometimes you lament about your lack of ability to be verbally and affectionately comforting. But I hope you know that I don’t really care about that. You are more than enough for me. You’ve done a lot more than you think. I’m forever appreciative, my dear.

Arlecchino was left speechless, the usual bite in her throat died down. As someone who had few kind words to say to others, having such sweetness directed at her was not something she was used to. But of course, a part of her wasn’t surprised, because the only person who’d utter such things was you. It pained her, and even the children who cried after your death, greatly. But whenever she needed a reminder of you, she would uncharacteristically gently trace her fingertips over the words of your letter.

La Signora:

Everyone knew to stay out of La Signora’s way after your death. She was cruel before, but your passing seemed to reignite all the flames of anguish and hatred she harbored deep inside her broken heart. Once again, her walls had been put up to be unbreakable.

Rosalyne had gifted you a lot of makeup and accessories. She liked to experiment on you and liked it when you tried it yourself too. You had kept everything in a nice big box so nothing would get lost. One day she felt drawn to it again. She knew she was missing you dearly again, and although opening it would just cause her heartache, she couldn’t help but pry it open to see how you kept it. But on top was a hastily folded letter, stained a bit by the surrounding makeup, tucked into a small compartment. She flipped it open and began to scan the contents.

My dearest Rosalyne,

Hello there, pretty lady. You know, that’s the first thing I thought when I saw you. Tall pretty lady. Did you know that? Now you do. Anyway, I was wondering - how many of your flame moths can you create at a time?? Can you make them form a heart or something? 

Haha, I’m sorry for beating around the bush. The truth is I don’t know how much longer I have left. No matter how much warmth your moths provide me, for some reason, I always feel the chill of death creeping up my spine…

I don’t mean to be your second heartbreak. I’m really sorry… you deserve so much better than that. But for what it’s worth, you made my life a lot better than it was before. I hadn’t had much confidence in myself because of my illness for a long time. But you, Rosalyne… you made me feel like an actual person, as strange as that sounds. I feel like, when I’m with you, you make me feel so loved and special. I’m far from it but I actually feel like royalty. And royalty is really a life worth living. I don’t even know how you did it, but thank you. My life is so, so much happier thanks to you.

Hopefully, I make it a lot longer after I’m writing this letter. Maybe the Gods could finally take pity on me and give me some kind of blessing so I can stay with you longer. But if anything happens, I really, truly love you, Rosalyne. (The end of the letter has an origami moth colored in and taped to it.)

Signora’s hand trembled as she finished your letter. Her heart had returned to being ice, but it felt like her whole body was being swallowed up in red-hot grief and anger. Signora would dedicate herself solely to the Tsaritsa’s noble dream. It was the only thing she could do now, with nothing else to do and no one left for her freezing heart to love. No one could ever hope to understand the grief and pain she’s been through. Perhaps, that was why when she stood in front of the Raiden Shogun’s sword, she did not feel much regret.

Pantalone:

Whenever Pantalone went out, he often found himself looking through the windows of many stores to view their products. It was almost an instinct to pull out a large sum of Mora to buy anything he thought you’d like. And he still did this, only that he stopped halfway every time when he remembered that you were no longer with him. And his heart felt painfully heavy once again, like how heavy his smile felt with the pressure to keep it up.

The silence of his office had become a norm once again, your joyful presence no longer around to brighten it up. Pantalone opted to drown himself in paperwork to ignore it. Actually, he never realized how much the tick of the grandfather clock bothered him until now. Usually, your voice was loud enough to hide it. He sighed and reached for the bottom drawer to get some new pens to sign the documents. But his eyes widened as he saw a paper clearly laid out there, addressed to him at the top. His heart beat quickened as he carefully picked it up and realized it was from you. It seemed like you had experimented with some fancy calligraphy pens he had gotten you a while ago. And you had also stolen every stamp you had from him and stamped all over the paper.

Darling,

Hello, my love. Sorry for all the random stamps. I wanted to see what they looked like. Why does the Fatui need so many different-shaped stamps? You should make one of us, actually. And do you see I’ve been practicing my cursive script? (Indeed, on the back on the paper, your name has been signed in different styles.) I’ve been trying to do my signature all fancy like you. Hopefully, I’m improving.

I am thinking to make you read me a bedtime story tonight. I found a new one that seemed pretty cute. It’s a commoner falling in love with a nobleman… a tale of forbidden romance. It seems to go fine, until the commoner s/cc/mbs to (It seems that you scratched off the rest of the sentence.) Actually, I won’t spoil the ending for you. But by the time you read this letter, we may have finished it already. I’m just going to abuse that pretty voice of yours as much as I can (kidding of course… but no joke. Have you tried some kind of service where you just read things to people? I think you’d make a lot of money from that. I sure would give all my life savings to you.)

I guess since I’m writing this, I should say another thing I’m thinking about. I’m not sure how much longer I can hang on. I’m trying my best because I don’t want to let you down. I know you’ve been trying your best, with all these fancy doctors and equipment, but um… yeah. But I should also say that I’m not regretful having spent my time with you. You made the last days of my life so relaxing, so stress-free, so… nice. I’m glad I don’t need to worry about anything with you. Let’s move on from this, actually.

I’m thinking of a lot of things, actually. I wonder what you made the chef prepare for us tonight. Mhm… I’m getting hungry. Will you feed me dessert again too? Hah, I’m going to miss thinking about such mundane things. Hmm, I think I can hear your voice down the hall, so I’ll wrap this up. I love you.

Pantalone gazed at your words forlornly, his mouth formed into a downwards line. He had never thought the loss of something besides Mora could squeeze his heart so painfully, but here you were, making his eyes sting once again. Blinking back any tears, he made sure to store your letter in a safe place. He made a note to visit your grave today. He’d bring your favorite snack too, and read you a story perhaps.

Sandrone:

It was almost ironic - the puppet master had become a puppet herself. She didn’t speak much to others anymore, choosing to lock herself up in her lab. A part of her debated making some kind of robot or doll replica of you. But it would never be the same. She wouldn’t feel your warmth, or your natural, free laugh. Nothing would be similar.

Sandrone had begun inspections on all of her created robots. It was a grueling process she had gotten used to, but she missed the chirping of your voice as she did so. She worked in silence, opening the compartment of one of them when she was caught off guard by a formerly white paper, caked in dust, inside. The only person who had access to her Automatons was you. So could it possibly be…?

My forever,

I’m actually writing this in the same room as you. You're too preoccupied with your robot building and engineering and all that stuff, so you don’t notice me rushing to write all of this. I’ll make this quick. Actually, it’s hard to concentrate when you look so pretty and intelligent. Ahh, I’m so lucky to have you with me.

I think you’re repairing one of your robots so it can lift us up and take us on a walk. I’m excited. Those are always so much fun. I know you aren’t a sappy person. But I want to make my feelings clear, since I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to watch you unscrew some bolts and hammer down the nails. I don’t need to say it outright, do I? We both know I’ve been getting worse. Neither of us wants to say it out loud, but it’s reality.

Before I go, let me make it clear, since I know you like being blunt. You are my everything. Seeing your cute little robots send me these cute little messages really made my day. I think you told me a long time ago that you didn’t care much about human emotions. I think that’s changed now. I love waking up to see that calm and content expression on your face and watching it become a bit more softer when you see me. You’re more human than you think, you know. Some people think that being cooped up in a lab with a Harbinger is not an ideal way to live. But I beg to differ. I would choose no other way to live as long as I’m with you, Sandrone.

I think you’re finished with your tinkering. I’m going to have one of the robots hide this paper in them. I think some of them like me better than you >:) I wonder how long it’ll be until you find it. Hopefully, you don’t find it too quickly because it’ll be awkward to explain this to you. Either way… I love you dearly, Sandrone.

Sandrone gently brushed off the dust on your letter. She wished she found it sooner. She didn’t know whether it was good or bad her heart was finally feeling some emotion again, but she was grateful to have some final parting words from you. Sandrone had a bubble of inspiration float up in her. She had a good idea of what she was going to build next.

Childe:

Childe had found it after he was cleaning out your apartment in Liyue. He wanted to bring all of your stuff to his home in Snezhnaya. No matter how much he tried, he couldn’t throw any of your items away, even the random useless trinkets. Childe’s chest felt hollow as he opened the door to your residence. He expected to see your face brighten and eagerly pull yourself out of bed to hug him. He’d easily lift you off the floor and spin you around, drinking in your gleeful giggles as he pressed his lips to yours. But now it was just the creak of the floorboards as he walked in.

Childe had a memory connected to every piece of clothing that you had. That one he gifted to you for your birthday. Another he remembered twirling you around in on a picnic. One of his sweaters that he doesn't remember you stealing from him, mingled with your scent and his. Archons, his chest hurt so badly, but there was nothing he could do as he neatly placed your items in boxes, emptiness consuming him. He was finishing up the packing when a piece of paper folded in half fell out of one of your pants’ pockets. Childe picked it up and his eyes widened when he recognized your handwriting and his real name. Sitting down on your bed, he began to read.

To my one and only Ajax,

My greatest wish is that you’ll never find and read this letter because it means that we’re living our best lives. We’re happy, content, still deeply in love with each other… living in bliss. 

But if you’re reading this, then we probably didn’t go and do all of the cool and exciting things you wanted us to. I didn’t move to Sneznhnaya and I didn’t meet the rest of your family. We didn’t go travel to all the nations like you wanted to…

Heh, that’s too bad. I was really looking forward to seeing the same sights you saw on your travels. The pretty bloom of Inazuma’s sakura trees, the beautiful snow-covered streets of Snezhnaya. Remember that time you asked me if I wanted to conquer the world with you? Of course, since I can’t ever say no to you, I accepted your proposition. But in my head, I couldn’t help but think that you should probably choose someone who can match your ability and someone who is act/a/ly g/i/g to b/ ali/e. (The previous words have been haphazardly erased, making it hard to make out.)

You know I… (The ink here has bled through the paper, most likely due to you stopping there for a good while.) I don’t even know what to say, I’m just sorry. I don’t wanna leave you, I wanna be by your side forever, wanna be attacked by your cuddles every day. But the only thing I can do now is to make sure you understand that I’m truly grateful for you. No one else has ever cared about me as much as you did. You never stopped believing in me and always smiled when I needed you. You made my feeble life worth living.

Please don’t be sad. Teucer and the rest of your siblings need you. I love you so very much…

He didn’t realize how hard he was digging his fingernails into his skin until he started bleeding through the paper. Childe had been through endless battles, and fought countless enemies, but no wound had ever burned as badly as his heart did right now. Even in the Abyss, he did not feel as bottomless of despair as he felt right now. He wanted to hold you again too, Childe thought. He wanted to kiss you all over and show you how much he loved you. But you were gone, and the letter just solidified it more. He laid down on your bed, hand covering his forehead as he stared blankly at your ceiling. Biting down on his lip hard, he tried to prevent tears from flowing again. He would just go back to being the Tsarista’s weapon again, drowning himself in battle and blood just to feel something after your death.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #dottore x reader #capitano x reader #pantalone x reader #scaramouche x reader #childe x reader #pierro x reader #columbina x reader #arlecchino x reader #la signora x reader #sandrone x reader #il dottore x reader #tartaglia x reader #fatui harbingers x reader #fatui x reader #genshin dottore #pantalone genshin #fragile reader <3

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for tricking my grandma into misgendering her cat?

Background: my (19F) grandma (67F) is a southern baptist and pretty conservative. My cousin (Matt, 24M) is trans, he came out to his parents and mine about two years ago because he knew we would be supportive, but he waited until he was on T a couple months and was mostly transitioned socially before he officially came out to our less supportive relatives, like my grandma.

Since Matt came out to everyone else (which he did by showing up at family Christmas with a “hello my name is” sticker on, which I thought was hilarious) my grandma has refused to use his correct pronouns, name, or anything, saying “it’s hard to switch” as an excuse. Matt has cut off contact and everyone else in the family just kind of avoids talking about him around her.

I am in a weird situation because my family lives the next street over from where she does, and we have always been pretty close. Since she started being so shitty about Matt, though, I’ve put more distance and just stay polite when she’s over.

Okay so now to the AITA part. About two months ago my grandma wanted to adopt a cat, and my best friend volunteers at an animal shelter so we were helping her. We showed her pictures of some of the cats and she saw an older male who was all black with longer fur and said she wanted to adopt “her.” I started to correct her saying it was a male cat, and then realized the opportunity I had so I kept my mouth shut. I made a point to handle all the adoption stuff for my grandma so she never saw anything indicating the cat’s male-ness, and then brought home her new “female” cat, pink collar and all.

Last week “Miss Kitty” (such a creative name) got a paw injury and at the vet they told my grandma the cat was male. My grandma told me and my parents about it when she was over for the Fourth of July (we had family and friends over for barbecue, including Matt’s parents). I made a point from there on to continue using “she” for the cat and still calling “Miss Kitty” instead of “Mister Kitty.” It took her a minute to notice but finally she called me out and said “he’s a boy, stop saying she.”

I immediately snapped back with “oh so it’s easy for you to switch the name and pronouns of your cat but not your own grandson?” Everyone got quiet and she got all flustered, trying to say it’s different, but I just said “oh okay, so you put more effort into using the right words for a cat who doesn’t even know English, got it.”

My mom told me to stop and leave it alone. I said “I’m just saying, it’s pretty clear who she cares about more.” And then my mom told me to leave the table if I was going to act like that. I just got up and took my plate in the kitchen and finished eating.

After everyone left my mom lit into me and told me that what I said was cruel. I said I was just teaching her a lesson and that maybe now she would think about it different. My mom said that I just made things worse and humiliated her on purpose in front of everyone. My dad had been quiet but then just started laughing. He realized that I had been playing the long game, and it wasn’t a mix up at the shelter- I led my grandma to believe the cat was female. He basically said “that was wrong but also hilarious” and now my mom is mad at both me and my dad. When Matt’s parents told him he thought it was super funny and said he isn’t mad at all.

My mom wants me to apologize, but I am not sorry about what I said. I don’t know if I should feel bad about tricking my grandma, because I didn’t technically outright lie, I just didn’t correct her when she assumed the cat was female. AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

[semischarmed]

River

River was a walking enigma. 

Instagram, TikTok, Facebook- hell, I even tried looking for a yearbook. Nothing. I had nothing on the guy. Like an illusion, he merely appeared, did his work diligently and then promptly vanished. In fact, his most common phrase around the office was a “Sorry, I can’t- busy.” His distance seemed to put some people off. That only made me want him more.

When Chelsea threw a quitting party, he dropped in, chatted for a few minutes and then left without saying goodbye- except to Chelsea. He wasn’t rude by any means. I’ve only ever seen the guy be polite. I personally found it quite hot. His mysteriousness brought an allure about him.

During another quitting party- a dinner for Mark this time, I tried to make conversation, asking him why he was named River. I actually asked the question in a few roundabout ways. Most I ever got was a “just what my parents named me- they thought I’d have brown hair”. I tried to pry for his hobbies, asked what he did for fun and he only responded with a “I watch baseball, go to the gym, watch TV. I guess”, before asking me about mine. The conversation was cordial, and probably a little boring, but I was captivated. This had been the closest I ever sat next to him. 

My breathing quickened, ever so slightly, as I watched his shirt struggle to contain the form within. I traced the vascularity in his hands, the craftsmanship in the sculpt of his neck, the fabric of his shirt stretching taut when he would reach to grab a napkin. There was a full plate of food in front of me but I was only salivating at one thing.

The conditions were not ideal- but what choice did I have? The guy was like a ghost. I laughed a bit at the irony. I sat right across, trying to filter the scents and the sounds of food and camaraderie to focus on him. This would take all my brain power. I steadied my breathing and sharpened my focus, as I continued to answer and ask mundane questions about some work projects we both had. I started my work, mimicking every microexpression, every slight movement. I tailored every word from my mouth- even my delivery to slowly match his. This had to be subtle, of course- I’ve found out the hard way in the past how creepy this process could look in public if done too quickly. 

River’s eyes blinked slower, like a haze was forming in his mind. I followed suit, weaving my slight impersonation in and out of our conversation. Like a pulse, I felt our movements begin to sync. Almost there. Now came the tough part, slowly drawing him out and isolating him without lo-

“C’mon, let’s all get shots- uh… River you ok bro?” Mark asked.

He shook off his daze, surprised at himself before laughing off the weirdness. 

I was pissed the rest of the night, forcing myself to hide the permanent glare I would have worn for Mark. 

As the night drew on, River left early- of course, and I continued on, staying a bit longer to wish Mark well in one final toast for the night. 

That would be the last time in a while I’d be so close to him. The following drought was unbearable. For the next few months, no one quit. No big holidays were coming up, and our office wasn’t much for parties. Instead, I had to satiate myself with glances and the occasional short conversation.

= = = = 

“Does that work for you two?” My boss asked. I nodded readily, eyeing River’s response. Another nod.

Fuck. I practically jumped when the boss said those words. A presentation. A presentation with River. A chance.

I think I deserved an Oscar for my acting in the few weeks after we were both tasked with the presentation. A wrong font here, corrupted save there, a missed chart. I “worked” tirelessly on the presentation with River, making sure to leave enough mistakes and gaps to drag the process out. 

The guy was too polite, and I knew I had to use that against him. I ran the clock, watching the days progress into weeks and his brow furrow as stress deepened. Of course, I had to play my part, acting innocent at every step. A quick “sorry” for every mistake I planted was enough to ease suspicion. I even faked a confession about roommate drama causing my decline in performance. I thanked how private he was in that moment- I lived alone. Ever the hero, River was quick to take on the responsibility- even covering for me on few occasions. I knew I had to get inside this man.

Then came the day before the big presentation.

“I- uh… okay. Maybe we can finish this at my apartment,” He stated, clearly uncomfortable. I held back a moan.

= = = =

“You can set your stuff down there”.

It was a bit boring compared to what I expected. He was definitely put together at work, so it was a bit surprising to see some mess littering his apartment. 

A few posters dotted the walls. Some basketball guy, I guess. An action movie. A generic college banner. His furniture boxy and grey, and the carpets running through the floors were in need of cleaning. Perhaps unsurprisingly, his kitchen was pristine, practically sparkling, aside from a small collection of protein powders and supplements. 

“Uh.. sorry I don’t really have any snacks.”

He sheepishly opened the near-empty fridge and offered me a choice in drink. Some kind of pre-workout beverage and water. I took the water. 

“Okay, I need to head to the gym for a bit. You still have a few slides you wanted to add, right?” A Hoodie-wearing, duffel-toting River asked. I nodded, trying not to look too eager and straining to keep my eyes from staring at his well-defined legs. 

And then, there I was. Alone in River’s apartment. Alone with River’s apartment. I ran to his dirty laundry pile. 

“Mmmphhhh” My eyes rolled back as I took the deepest inhale of my life. These were River’s boxer briefs. The same ones he had just worn. Doused in the scent of a day’s work. It was damp- guess River was a sweaty guy, though the long walk and couple flights of stairs to get to his apartment may have also been culprit. I was paralyzed in bliss, as I took in every note of his natural musk. 

It reverberated deep in my chest as I continued to circulate every ounce of River I could inside me. The underwear was practically glued to my nose and mouth before I finally relented and drew them away, gasping for air. Exquisite. 

My dick jumped at the sight of a single strand of his pubic hair, like flickering flame. A perverse smile planted itself on my face as I gingerly pulled my clothes off. I shivered as the cold, damp fabric that had just touched his bare flesh was now touching mine. I felt his hair on my flesh, now caked in his sweat. The elastic snapped around my waist as I released, a bit tight. My breaths fell shallow, ragged as I sat there basking in his cold embrace.

Next came the tank top. I mentally hit myself for not putting it on first, as it was a significantly less erotic experience. Still, as I slipped my arms through the holes that his once filled, my dick couldn’t help but twitch in approval. 

I ran to his bed, gripped his sheets, and stifled another moan with his pillow. This man had, until today, been a full on mystery to me. And now, here I was- deep in the recesses of his apartment, nestled in the indent on his bed, buried in fabric stained with traces his scent and natural grime. I was drowning in the all aspects of his daily life. It was an intimacy with River previously unheard of and practically a miracle I hadn’t cummed yet. 

The next few moments were sluggish, mind hazy and drunk in pleasure, as I wore my jacket and pants over the River clothes I had already had on me. I mentally thanked myself for wearing tighter clothing earlier today, as I felt them compress River’s undergarments tighter on my flesh. I walked back, sitting on the dining table and pretending to work.

A few minutes later, the door clicked open and a panting River waved. He no longer had a hoodie on and left nothing to imagination. I eyed the feast before me.

I fucking knew it. This kid was ripped. 

I salivated as my eyes followed every contour of the body that would soon be mine. His flesh was flush and glistening with sweat.

“M-must have been some workout,” I mumbled. I couldn’t stop myself from staring.

“Yeah, fucking kicked my ass today,” River said with a short laugh. My dick twitched. River never swore, never gave off a jockish vibe at work, but here he was, beaten tired and unable to contain his natural state behind a facade of politeness. 

My lip quivered when his post-workout scent wafted into my nose. It was divine. True to his name, River had an earthy, deep musk about him. A delayed, almost sour afternote followed, the kind that clings to the nose. It riled me up, knowing this offensive, raw blast of testosterone had been working next to me for the past two years, hidden by layers of work clothes and pleasantries. River was cleaned, masked and sanitized for corporate America. And now I had a private showing to it. I was feral. I wanted-no, needed to be piloting this hunk for myself.

My trance was broken when River dropped to his couch, laughing slightly. This wasn’t his normal laugh- it dropped all pretense and I recoiled out of reflex, thinking back to that same laugh that emanated from the football jocks back in high school. 

A lazy pair of eyes drifted up to meet me. “Sorry bro, just new a few minutes.”

I gulped. This was my chance. No need for precision, no need for focus. River was vulnerable. In any other circumstance, I’d be syncing to his movements, slowly, imperceptibly altering his as he would start following mine. Then I could pull him into my trance, lead him to a safe area as I continued the process. This was different. River served himself up on a platter for me, beaten to near immobility by his workout. No way was I gonna miss this. I stripped quickly, abandoning my original plan.

Without a word, I walked closer to him, grabbing his wrists. 

“W-what are you”. In that instant, i jumped on top of him, allowing my body to follow the contours of his.

He grunted in defiance while I began to grind in pleasure. “Ughhh! Fuck bro. I can’t! I can’t wait. I can’t wait to be River!” 

The process was quick- his drenched, energy drained flesh practically grabbed at mine, drawn by my own energy into itself. It was osmosis. I moaned as I saw the process start, and River’ meaty form encapsulate my own. His arms and legs splayed as he screamed at the intrusion. “What the fuck are you-“ He grunted in pain as he felt our two forms begin to meld. I laughed a perverted laugh, eyeing how deep I was inside him. His lack of energy had been his downfall.

I licked the inside of his head, feeling him shiver and whimper at the intrusion. I whispered venomously. “What am I doing?” I thrusted myself deeper into his muscled form, “I’m becoming River. I’m gonna wear you like a fine red suit.” I felt my facial muscles match his and pulled him into a smile he did not intend to make. “You boring prude. This body was built for sex. You’re starving this poor thing. I bet it’s backed up.” I whined in half-whispers. “Let me take you for a ride.” River moaned in horror, kicking his legs into the sofa in discomfort as his muscled back began to close over me. Possessing the ginger felt like a warm, dank hug. “You feel that?” I teased, this time his voice mimicking mine. He could no longer respond as it had become my mouthpiece. Instead, his head repeatedly slammed the sofa in resistance, forced to wear a smile that was not his own. 

I laughed, feeling our combined chest heave in deep pleasure as I jammed my fingers deep into each bicep. I drilled into each arm, relishing in feeling his muscle fibers slip past me. Power. He shook as he tried in vain to resist my fingers filling into his. Putting on those vascular hands like well-fitted gloves. “Fuck yeah bro… that’s the stuff. Dominate me. Command me. Control my every move. My nerves are itching for their owner. Put this ginger meatsuit on…” I mock in his voice. Tears welled in my eyes, as I felt him continue to slam our slowly merging head into the sofa. I purse our lips before moaning further. “Wear my clothes…” My legs wove into his, twisting and binding into one. “Wear my personality…” the bottom half of our merged face laughs, while my new eyes blink away angered tears. I felt his memories begin to flow and surround mine. His rage and desperation flowed through me. The slamming slowed, coming to a complete halt as a reborn River’s eyes blinked into a lewd, sinful glee. “Wear my life.”

I stood up, piloting my new body towards the mirror. “You’re still in there, aren’t you?” River’s outward defiance no longer showed over his perfect flesh but his mind was a raging storm. “Good.” His body lit in searing pain, sore muscle tendon and fiber forced to flex. I felt the storm calm as he was stunned. I myself winced slightly before my arousal imprinted itself through River’s face. This was my pain now. I could feel every fiber of his musculature tearing and repairing themselves. Building back stronger with the pre-workout mix he had drunken earlier. Building back with me embedded deep inside. Our leg wobbled in pain, before I slapped it back into submission, forcing it to flex. “Fuck yeah, that’s the stuff.”

I roared and patted my new chest and abs. “YEEAAAH!” Just one last piece of me was left. An intentional dessert I had left not internally bonded with River. 

I let his normally stoic face relay the erotic pleasure I felt in wearing this flesh. I then pulled a “serious” face, bringing pained biceps into a flex. “We gotta live up to our name bro… gotta let the river flow”. A greedy tongue licked the dripping sweat hanging off ginger hairs of his armpit. I wanted to savor this. The tangy, salty nectar lingered in our shared tongue before I began to make out with my new reflection. With a grunt, I slammed River’s pelvis into the mirror, groaning as my growing hard-on began to fill into his dick. At first contact, I felt our senses mingle and the cold metal of the mirror. I grunted, trying to reign in the lust. With our linked sensitivity, I could feel my original body’s dick worming itself into my soon to be River-flavored cock. I thrusted my rod up, relishing in the soothing bare metal beneath the perverse cock and cock sleeve combination.

I grabbed at my new rod with one hand, while the other greedily dragged across my new body, feeling every new muscle and crevice and damp piece of the hunk. River thrashed inside me, disgusted at feeling his own flesh violate itself. At watching this new carnal entity that wore his face and name.

“S-someone’s gonna find out. Someone will fix this” He threatened in my mind. 

“No bro… you’re the perfect host. No one at work knows a thing about you”. I cooed in his voice. “When we quit, when I take this thick ginger cock for a joy ride-“ tug “No one…” tug “No one will know.” I groaned as the last of his dick bonded to mine. We were complete. “I’m River now!” I shouted before devolving into whimpers of pleasure as I felt River’s warm seed stream out of me. 

River’s softening, sore wood was forced back into full mast as I eyed the full extent of my- now his- depravity. Not wanting to waste a drop, I smeared my new lotion onto my new flesh, caking in layers of his drying sweat with layers of drying semen. I could only hear gagging in my mind as River was forced to taste his own produce. It’s my body now anyways, why shouldn’t it reek of sex and his natural musk?

#male possession #male merge #male corruption #male skinsuit

[sugarcoatedstarkey]

I’ve had this idea for so long and I feel like you’d do amazing at it….. Y/N reading Drew smut after him being away filming and Drew catches her and then tries to like do it like what she’s read

Like in the books you read

Pairing- Drew Starkey x fem!reader

Summary- you left your fanfiction open on your laptop and Drew finds it.

Warnings- sex, foreplay, hair pulling, chocking, spanking, language. [18+]

A/n: thank you so much anon for thinking I would be good at writing your request! Please let me know how I did!?? Love you 🖤 also if anyone wants to be apart of my Taglist let me know xx

You had just run yourself a bath, glass of wine and vibrator ready to go. The room was dark with flickering orange light from the multiple candles on the bench beside the tub, you dropped your pink robe and stepped into the scolding water.

Letting your body adjust to the temperature before sinking into it, the bubbles swarmed your naked body. Your head the only thing visible if someone was to walk in.

You had been reading smut on your laptop, smut about your boyfriend that his fans had created. You were now hornier than ever, aching for his touch.

You had gone searching for his fan fiction, usually you read stuff about other celebrities, but your boyfriend had been on your mind for the past two months. You missed him, you missed his laugh, his smile and especially his hands.

You were aching to feel him inside of you again, two months being the longest either of you had been away from one another. But he had to fly away for work and unfortunately you couldn’t go as your little sister was unwell, you needed to be home for her.

You reached over for your vibrator, turning it on to the lowest setting first , you sunk it into the water. Spreading your legs and nudging the tip to your swollen clit. Gripping the edge of the tub with the other hand.

All the while you were enjoying yourself upstairs, Drew had gotten home. He noticed all the lights off so didn’t call out to you, unsure if you were sleeping or maybe at your parents.

He pushed his bag over the threshold and locked the door behind him, he began with taking his shoes off and then his jacket. Putting them in their rightful place.

He started walking towards the bedroom, he could hear soft sounds from what he assumed was your speaker. Excitement ran through him as he realised you were home, but instead of rushing through the doors he opened it slowly.

The room is dark except for the orange light seeping under the bathroom door, but his eyes fall on something else. Your laptop perched on the bed, he’s not sure why he steps towards the laptop before you.

He reaches down and grabs it, scanning over the words on the screen. “Well, well well” he mumbles, he’s found your reading material. He shocked at the writing, the way the person describes him and his actions.

He knew people wrote fan fiction but never to this extent, just as he’s about to scroll he hears your loud moans. Head snapping towards the bathroom door.

Had you been reading this and gotten aroused he thought, were your using one of your many toys you used while he was away. Picturing your face as you reached your orgasm.

His cock began to harden in his sweats, he turned his attention back to the laptop. He moved the mouse and scrolled to the top, he had just enough time to read the whole thing. Just enough time to get all the information he needed to then preform the acts on you. He wanted you satisfied, he wanted to experience your kinks with you.

Back in the bathroom, you’ve made yourself cum twice. Your fingers and toes had begun to prune, deciding it was best to get out of the tub now. You pulled the bath plug and let the water drain away, quickly giving yourself a rinse under the shower head.

You stepped out of the bath and continued with your nightly routine, oblivious to your boyfriend being on the other side of the door and reading on your laptop, reading all your dirty secrets you had hoped to keep from him.

Finally, after what seemed like hours you stepped out of the bathroom, the coolness from the bedroom hitting you in the face. Nipples pebbling from the sudden temperature change.

You let out a shriek when you noticed the body on your bed, gripping your robe and tightening it around your neck in shock. Your heart thumping against your chest, finally taking in the fact it was your boyfriend. “Jesus Christ Drew!” You yelped, bracing yourself against the vanity table.

“I’m sorry baby” he chuckled, he pulled himself from the bed and walked towards you. He reached for you, lacing his fingers into the back of your hair, and pulling you towards him by your neck.

He presses his lips to yours; you smile through the kiss and wrap your arms around his neck. His other hand grips your hip, pulling you as close to him as humanly possible. “Missed you so much pretty girl” he whispered against your lips, peppering kisses against your lips.

“Missed you more baby” you giggled, running your fingers through his freshly shaved head. His hand moved from the back of your neck to jaw, tracing your lips with his thumb and pushing your chin down to part your mouth a little wider.

“How much did you miss me?” He whispered; you could feel his hard cock against your pubic bone. Eyes glazed over in lust. You knew he had heard you in the bathroom, your eyes flickering over towards the bed to see your laptop closed. He must have seen what you were reading.

“So much” you breathed, his hand on your hip was now untying the bathrobe. Exposing your naked body to the coolness, his fingers skimming over your breast. Goosebumps littered your skin; he presses his lips to yours once again. Letting his tongue slip between your open mouth.

You’re aching all over again, chest heaving as you kiss one another. His hands are groping your breasts, thumbing your nipples. “Drew” You whine, you needed more from him. Your vibrator had done nothing to curb your arousal. Your pussy was drenched again, your mouth salivating at the taste and smell of your boyfriend. “Needy baby” He whispered.

His fingers smooth over your shoulders, dropping your robe to the floor. His eyes travel up and down your body, you reach out for his black shirt. Sliding your hands under the material and nudging it up his body. He lets you pull it over his head, your hands going straight back to his stomach.

Pressing open mouth kisses down his chest until you were on your knees in front of him, looking up at him you press a kiss just under his belly button. “Can I?” You whisper, slipping your pointer fingers into the waist band of his sweats, he nods in approval. You pull his pants down slowly, watching the way his cock springs up and hits his stomach and then stands tall.

Your mouth salivating at the sight of his cock, your wrap your hand around the base and begin to move in an up and down motion. Licking your lips you wrap them around his tip, the taste of pre cum fill your taste buds. You look up at him through your lashes as you take him in further, his tip nudging your uvula. You gag slightly as you hadn’t had him inside you for a while.

“Shit, pretty girl. You’re a fucking dream” He moans, his fingers grip your hair tightly. He begins thrusting his hips against your throat, tears well in your eyes as he assaults your mouth. You loved it though, knowing he had read the smut you had left on the laptop. He was doing exactly what you had been craving for the past two months. “Going to fuck you until you can’t walk princess”.

You moan against his cock, the vibrations travelling through Drew’s body. Your eyes flicker from his face to his arms, the veins protruding from his skin. You rub your thighs together to give yourself some friction, your pussy aching for his touch. “Gonna cum baby girl” He warned, you gripped his hips and moved faster against him. You could feel his cock twitching against your tongue and then his was filling your throat with his seed.

You swallowed him and let him pull his half hard cock out of you, using your thumb to wipe the spit from your chin. You sat back on your legs and looked up at him, he stared down at you for a moment. Taking in the very pretty sight of your body in front of him, he reached for you.

Fingers wrapping around your throat, he pulled you up and began walking you over to the vanity table. Pushing away the paper and pens that littered the grey desk, he nudged you against it and you took a seat. “I read your laptop” he states, his hands give your throat a little squeeze.

The apples of your cheek redden in embarrassment, he moves to prop your legs up onto the desk. Spreading you wide for him, his eyes drinking in the state of your pussy. Swollen and wet, his cock hardening just from the sight. “Did that writing get you this wet?” He questions, he drops to his knees in front of you. Eyes staring directly at your cunt, he presses a kiss to your inner thigh.

Your body shudders and you clench around air, his eyes darkening at the sight of your pussy throbbing. “Did your vibrator not help you baby girl?” He questions again, but your words are lost. You are unable to answer him, to fixated on him. You’re aching for him; you want him to touch you already. But you also love that he’s studying you, watching your pussy clench around nothing.

Your pussy was dripping now, running down into your ass cheeks. Your fingers tightened around the edge of the desk, desperately trying to stay still. Your instinct was to press your fingertips to your swollen clit but you knew better. “Need me to clean this mess up?” He asks, you watch in silence as his finger runs through your folds.

Your let out a sigh of relief, knocking your head back against the mirror. But your quick to look back down at him, he is being slow, appreciating every inch of your pussy. He pushes a finger inside of you, exploring your soft, pillow like walls. “Fuck” you breath, he pushes another finger inside and then another. Stretching you wide for him, you’re a moaning mess above him.

Trying so hard to keep your eyes on him, but the moment his hot tongue meets your clit your gone. Your eyes squeeze together and your back arches off the mirror, pushing your pussy closer to his face. He licks and sucks at your pussy as though it’s his last meal on earth, his fingers move in and out of you. Your walls pulsate around him, his fingertips nudging at your sweet spot.

Your arousal only gets messier, running down his hand as he continues to fuck you with him fingers. “Oh god Drew!” You cry out, grinding your cunt into his face. Your so close, you can feel it in your stomach. The familiar tingle of pleasure runs through from your clit down to your toes, curling them around the air. “Drew- I oh shit, I’m going to cum!” You yelp.

You clench around him, hoping to hold onto the moment. But instincts set in, and you give into the mind-blowing pleasure. Mind going blank as you cum around him, your body shakes with pleasure. You let out loud almost pornographic moans and shrieks, hoping to god that you closed the bedroom window earlier otherwise the neighbours where in for a treat.

“Holy shit Drew” you breathed, your chest heaves in an up and down motion. Your brain still buzzing from the euphoric orgasm you just went through, much better than the orgasm your vibrator had given you.

“I am not done with you yet” He states, he stands quickly and pulls you from the bench onto your feet. You wobble slightly but he holds you tightly. “Turn around” He orders, he watches you turn around. You look at him through the vanity mirror, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“Put your elbows on the table and bend over pretty girl” He states, once again he doesn’t help you move and watches you intently. Studying your body as you bend over for him, he kicks his feet against your ankles. Nudging your legs open wide. "watch yourself".

He can see your pussy dripping once again, he looks up at you in the mirror momentarily. He takes in your messy hair and dazed look on your face, he raises his hand in the air and you know exactly what’s coming. Automatically clenching and flinching, waiting for the sting that accompanied his hand meeting your ass cheek. “Shit” You cry out, you never expected Drew to do this.

You never wanted to bring it up, he had always known you liked choking and did that all the time. But you had kept this kink to yourself, you had wished you hadn’t. The look of pure excitement on his face had you arching your back and pushing your ass into the air. “Want more?” He questions.

His lips press against the red skin and before you can answer his hand meets your ass again, he repeats this action multiple times on both cheeks until your sobbing for him to touch you. “Please Drew, I need you” You cry out, you’re aching for him all over again. Your pussy weeping for him cock.

“You’re crying for me, pathetic” He states, he grips your hair and points your head to the mirror. Both your eyes lock and then he’s pushing inside of you with no warning. You squeeze your eyes shut and cry out, his hips move in a fast and steady pace. “Open your eyes now!” He demands, pulling harder at your hair.

Your eyes spring open and land on his again, you pulsate around him. Pussy pulling him in as deep as possible. He lets go of your hair and grips your waist, digging his fingers into your flesh. “Fuck” He groans, his eyes don’t leave yours. He’s fascinated with the way your eyes are glazed over in pleasure, the way your mouth is parted as you gasp for air.

He can feel you getting closer as your pussy begins to tighten around him, he is quick to pull out of you. “Drew!” You whine, he pulls you by the waist over towards the bed. “Ride me” He breaths, laying back onto the mattress.

You look down at his cock that is drenched with your arousal, salivating at the sight. Your quick to straddle him, dropping down onto his length. You press your palms against his chest, circling your hips against him. “Oh god” You whine, your clit rubs against his pubic bone.

You feel him in your stomach, his hands are gripping your thighs. Eyes closed as he let’s you take control for a moment; you begin to move your hips in a different way. You had been reading about it and wanted to try it out, his eyes shoot open and he’s staring at you with complete lust. “Shit baby girl, what are you doing to me” He groans, his hands massage your breasts.

Pulling himself up onto his forearms, he takes your nipple into his mouth and sucks. “I need to cum Drew” You state, your body was shaking. You were so close, but you needed something more, he nodded his head.

Gripping your throat, he tightened his fingers; you began to move faster. The mix between his cock nudging your sweet spot and the lack of air had tipped you over the edge.

Your orgasm hit you fast and hard, once again the tingling sensation spread through your body. Your pussy pulsating around his cock, sucking him deeper until he was exploding under you. Burying his cum deep inside your walls, both your moans echo throughout the room.

Sweat dripping down your bodies and mixing where you met in the middle, you were gasping for air. Eyes screwed shut as little white dots invade your vision, your fingernails scratching down the length of his arm. “Shit baby” He moans out.

His body shudders underneath you and his hand falls from your throat to his chest, you lay yourself down against him for a moment. Listening to his erratic heartbeat, regaining both of your breaths.

You pull away from him a few minutes later and slide off him, the both of you sitting up next to each other. “I can’t believe you read my laptop” You laughed, hiding your face in embarrassment. He reaches for you and tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear. “Don’t be embarrassed baby, it’s cute that you read fanfiction about me” He smiles, kissing your shoulder.

“I didn’t realise people went into so much detail, I mean that shit was hot” He states, fingertips running up and down your arm. You nod you head, turning your body to look at him. “Oh babe, these people are talented. There is so much more stuff out there” You state, you were happy to show him more if that meant you could both have hot sex.

“Well, we better eat something and make a list of your kinks” He chuckles, pulling you down onto him and giving you a long kiss.

#drew starkey x reader #drew starkey x you #drew starkey smut #drew starkey #drew starkey x y/n #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey fic #obx fic #obx rafe #obx cast #outerbanks fics #outerbanks smut #obx smut #obx fanfiction #obx fandom #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x you

[honeypiehotchner]

Will you be my Valentine? (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- one shot

Happy (belated) Valentine’s Day! This one shot turned out to be a lot longer than I was expecting, hence why it’s being posted today instead of yesterday 😭 (Also the first scene with Garcia is 100% inspired by a TikTok I saw and the idea just spiraled from there)

Summary: Each time a new member of the BAU figured out Hotch had feelings for you...and when he finally told you.

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff babes. It’s vile how cute this is

WC: 3.6k

Everyone knew Hotch had it bad from the first day you started working at the BAU.

There was a case on your very first day, so introductions were sparse before you boarded the jet. You met with Hotch, and the two of you talked briefly about how things work in general, though he said you’ll pick most of it up from actual experience.

The case was in Arizona, and it was a long one. But it didn’t take long for Garcia to see right through Hotch.

“So, um. How’s it going with the new agent?” Garcia asked, twirling her feathery pen back in Quantico.

Hotch shrugged. “Why are you asking me?”

“What is that in your voice?” Garcia said. She grinned. Say it ain’t so, she thought. Hotch, the Unit Chief, having a crush? This is too good. “Oh my god, you think she’s pretty.”

“Penelope--” he tried to stop her, to tell her she had it wrong because that would be wildly inappropriate, plus, his thinking that you were pretty had nothing to do with--

“Oh, you totally do!” Garcia giggled, ignoring his protests because he was deep in denial. Finally! A crush! “PG out, lover boy.”

He shook his head as she hung up on him, but he knew the blush was evident on his cheeks. He could feel it, so he knew everyone could see it.

Even you, who walked in a second later to ask him a question.

You saw the red tint on his cheeks, but thought nothing of it as he steeled his face once more before listening to your question.

+++

A few months passed since you began at the BAU, and still Garcia was the only one privy to Hotch’s secret. He thought.

“Have a good night,” Hotch said quietly as he passed your desk. You were gathering your things to head out for the night.

“Don’t stay too late,” you teased, shouldering your bag. You noticed he had a fresh mug of coffee in his hand. “You need sleep too, you know.”

“I’ll try,” he said with a smile as he bounded the steps up to his office. “Sleep well.”

Rossi watched (and heard) this interaction from his office. He waited until he saw you disappear into the elevator before he knocked on Aaron’s door.

“Come in,” Hotch said, not looking up from the paperwork at his desk until he realized it was Dave. “Hey, heading out for the night?”

“Not yet,” Rossi said, sinking down into one of Hotch’s chairs. “So…what are your plans for the weekend?”

Hotch eyed Rossi suspiciously. Every time Rossi began with that, it meant one of three things: 1. He genuinely wanted to know what Hotch had going on this weekend, 2. He wanted Hotch to do something with him, or 3. He was digging.

Digging for what exactly, Hotch never knew. Until Rossi caved and outright asked.

“What do you think of Y/N?”

Hotch shrugged. He continued working on the paperwork to distract himself. “She’s doing really well. She adapted quickly. I’ve been very impressed. Strauss has too.”

Rossi hummed. “Well, that sounded rehearsed.”

Hotch looked up from the papers, giving Rossi a tired stare. “What?”

“I asked what you think of her,” Rossi repeated, smiling smugly. “Not how she’s doing at her job.”

“What’s the difference?” Hotch returned to signing off reports.

“Oh, come on, Aaron,” Dave sat forward, tapping the desk. “I’m not that dense. And neither are you. You think she’s cute.”

“She’s very pretty,” Aaron answered without hesitation, regretting it immediately because it only gave Rossi more ammo.

“I knew it,” Dave grinned, sitting back again and clasping his hands together. “Well?”

Finally, Hotch put his pen down. “Well what?”

“Are you going to do something about it?”

Aaron grimaced. “You make it sound like it’s a problem.”

“It is if you never tell her,” Rossi pressed. He had lectured Aaron many times on the dangers of never telling a woman how you feel about her. Especially when it was clear she felt the same way.

“It’s inappropriate,” Hotch said, reverting to his usual defense.

“You’re both adults, clearly capable of making your own decisions,” Rossi replied with a shrug. Aaron knew that Rossi was the reason the No Fraternization rule existed, but he also knew Rossi was the first to say how much bullshit that rule was ladened with. “I don’t see the problem.”

Hotch glanced back down, scribbled a signature on Morgan’s report and tossed it aside, opening yours. He paused. “For one thing,” he started, flipping open your folder. “I don’t know how she feels.”

Dave stared at Aaron, wondering if the man across from him was being serious. As it turned out, Aaron was.

“If you saw what I did earlier, then you’d know she does,” Dave said.

Aaron shrugged again. “She’s nice to me because I’m her boss.”

“She’s civil toward you because you’re her boss,” Rossi clarified. “She’s nice because she feels the same way you do.”

Aaron sighed. He knew Dave meant well, but it was exhausting to listen to him. Aaron wanted to say something to you, but at the end of the day, he was your boss, and you his employee. It didn’t sit right with him. And if he ever did say something, that would be the first topic of conversation. It was too complicated.

Not to mention, he had only known you for a few months, and all of that time consisted of work settings -- save a few nights at bars or restaurants with some of the team.

“Ah, I see,” Dave said, nodding slowly. He stood up to leave.

“See what?” Aaron asked before Dave made it to the door.

“You’re too far in your head about this,” Dave said quietly. “Once you get out, you’ll know what to do.” And he left.

Aaron stared down at your report, your perfect handwriting. It looked far better than his, and miles better than Reid’s. It was very clearly yours, too. It fit your personality.

He closed the folder. The rest could wait until morning.

+++

Not long after Hotch’s talk with Rossi, Morgan was the next to put the pieces together -- and say something about it.

On the jet returning home from yet another case, everyone slept, except Hotch, Morgan, and Rossi. Reid curled up on the couch. Emily and JJ fell asleep in their seats, and you had taken over two other seats to stretch out. No one minded. Morgan gave you his jacket, against your protests. Hotch wished he had given you his, but Morgan had beat him to it.

Morgan noticed Hotch watching you wistfully while you slept, looking up every now and again from his tablet to check on you. Hotch’s eyes shot toward you impossibly fast every time you moved, watching for a moment to be sure you were alright before he looked away again.

After watching this for an hour, Morgan moved from his spot by Rossi to sit in front of Hotch.

“Hey,” Hotch said, nodding to Derek. “Can’t sleep?”

Morgan shrugged, biting back a grin. “I got a cat nap in. You?”

“I’ll sleep better in my bed,” Hotch replied. “I’m a little too tall for these seats.”

“Yeah, you always looked scrunched up,” Derek teased, jokingly mimicking the position Hotch once tried to sleep in. He woke up with one hell of a catch in his back. “Can I ask you a question?”

Hotch looked up, suspicious and a little scared. “Sure.”

Derek opened his mouth to speak and you shifted in your sleep again, causing Aaron’s eyes to shoot over toward you. His eyebrows drew together as he watched you, waiting for you to settle back down.

By the time Hotch looked back over, Morgan was smirking.

“What was your question?” Hotch asked.

“That right there,” Morgan replied, lowering his voice a little just to be sure you wouldn’t catch any of it. “What’s goin’ on?”

“What?” Hotch asked, feigning innocence, but he could feel the heat rising in his cheeks, and the smile he wasn’t able to hold back. “I don’t, uh-- What do you mean?”

“You should tell her,” Morgan said, starting to grin. “You really should.”

What Hotch didn’t know is that exactly two days before this, you confessed your feelings to Morgan. Only because he caught you smiling at Hotch, and you knew he wouldn’t give it up. Also because you were starting to go a little crazy, holding it in. But you called it a stupid crush and said it would go away. Derek didn’t believe you.

“No,” Hotch said, but he kept smiling. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” Derek shrugged. “What’s the harm?”

Hotch stayed quiet, looked back down. He shook his head.

“Hotch, you gotta put yourself out there,” Derek whispered. “And you gotta do it before you’re too late.”

Hotch nodded slowly. He should’ve known you’d have someone else on your horizons. You’re much younger, far prettier than he ever thought to be real. No wonder someone else took notice. No wonder someone else was ahead of him.

“Seriously,” Morgan pressed a little further. “Valentine’s Day is coming up, y’know. Perfect timing.”

Hotch chuckled softly, shaking his head at Morgan’s wicked grin. “Alright.”

+++

Emily and JJ realized it at the same time you did, though you told yourself you were overthinking and making it all up.

Hotch had bought your coffee.

It didn’t seem that strange, or romantic even. You happened to be at a coffee shop down the street, waiting in line to order when Hotch got in line behind you.

The two of you talked while you waited. What a happy coincidence, both of you were there before work. Your heart fluttered with every word he said, every smile he showed and laugh he let slip. Even his jokes, you were flustered beyond belief.

And then he got your coffee for you.

He asked, and you were so shocked that you said yes. You couldn’t stop smiling and neither could he.

Truthfully, Aaron was over the moon. His heart was beating like crazy, and he wondered if you noticed his nervous laughter. (You did.)

When you got back to the BAU, walking in together caught Emily and JJ’s attention. Reid was in the middle of a book, and Derek was nowhere to be found (probably off with Penelope). But Emily and JJ immediately tuned in.

“Hey you two,” you smiled, walking around to your desk.

“Hey yourself,” Emily grinned, keeping an eye on Hotch as he walked up to his office, smiling to himself. “You’re in a good mood.”

“A very good mood,” JJ echoed, propping herself up on the corner of her desk. “You and Hotch got coffee?”

“Yeah,” you replied, thinking nothing of it. “I just ran into him at my usual place.”

Emily and JJ shared a look, raising their eyebrows.

“Just ran into him?” JJ asked, shrugging her shoulders.

“…yeah?” you laughed. “What about it?”

“Did he buy your coffee?” Emily asked quietly, biting back a grin. “That’s…” She cocked her head, giving you a look.

“It’s what?”

“It sounds like he likes you,” Reid piped up, eyes still focused on his book. “It was a romantic gesture.”

Reid had known for a while. He kept it to himself, though, because nine times out of ten, when he first picks up on these things, no one else has yet. And if he mentions it, it’s often invasive and people get defensive, because it’s something they don’t want to think about.

So, he’s kept it quiet. But he has noticed. And now it’s getting obvious.

Your mouth remained open in shock. Hotch? Having a crush on you? That seemed ridiculous. Impossible, even. He’s your boss, for crying out loud. Not to mention, older and…does he even date? He doesn’t talk about his personal life. You know he’s divorced, but that’s it.

“No,” you laughed awkwardly. “I mean, I buy my coffee for my friends all the time. I’ve bought you guys coffee,” you gestured to Emily and JJ. “It’s fine, right?”

“It’s fine,” Emily shrugged. “Yeah, it’s fine, it’s not anything serious.”

“Just a coffee,” JJ agreed, although both of them still didn’t fully believe you.

It was friendly, sure, but the kind of friendly that had romantic undertones and intentions.

But you didn’t want to think about that because it felt impossible. They were reading too far into it, that’s all.

It’s a running joke that joining the BAU is a death sentence for your love life, so it’s a regular conversation, that’s all.

That’s all, you told yourself. That’s all.

+++

The BAU rang in February with a new case, this one in Alabama. It took a week or so to solve, and by the end of it, you were all exhausted. Yet you needed to eat, so the team went out for dinner.

Somehow — you never really know how this happens — the conversation veered toward Valentine’s Day. Derek brought it up, purely because he and Penelope are planning to spend it together watching the worst rom-coms imaginable.

“I don’t know, it just kinda bums me out. I never look forward to it,” you said, expecting to be in the majority at the table, but you weren’t.

“What?” Derek said. “We’ve gotta change that.”

You smiled at him, though it felt like he was pitying you.

“Why does it bum you out?” Hotch asked earnestly.

You hadn’t expected him to say anything, let alone to ask you a question. “Because,” you started. “I guess I just see all these happy couples, and the cards and balloons and flowers and chocolates and it’s— It’s just too much to look at.”

“You know, most of the happiest couples on Valentine’s Day are actually struggling in their relationship,” Reid said, mid-chew.

“What statistics back that one up, pretty boy?” Morgan teased.

“Just an observation,” Reid shrugged, swallowing.

“I know,” you replied. “I know statistically — also just from experience — that they’re not that happy, but still. They still look it. And it’s, you know, it’s sad.” You paused, not wanting to finish your sentence but you knew you had to because you dug this hole for yourself. “Because…I know that I’ll never have that.”

“What makes you say that?” Hotch asked, his voice quiet with concern.

“Yeah, Y/N,” Emily said, her face sad as she shook her head solemnly. “You don’t know that.”

“But…I do.” Your smile was a soft, sad one born from acceptance. “I never have had it, and it just seems so unlikely for me. Besides, I don’t want to be pretending to be happy and in love. That would be worse than being single.”

“Not everyone is pretending,” Hotch said, his eyes soft.

“Maybe,” you shrugged. “I didn’t mean to take over the table, guys. Let’s— JJ, what are you and Will doing?”

The conversation went back into safer territory, as JJ told the table that her and Will would probably do something small after Henry went to bed. Or maybe a dinner, after Spencer offered to babysit.

“Yeah, or I could babysit,” you offered. “You guys should have a date.”

“Uh, you should too,” Emily said. “You’ll find someone.”

“Considering Valentine’s Day is in three days, I doubt it.”

The table was silent for a moment, but Rossi broke it. “You’ll find someone,” he said with his small smile. “You’ll see.”

You rolled your eyes. It wasn’t unlike Rossi to talk like a fortune cookie.

+++

Aaron wanted to throw up.

Well, he wouldn’t go that far, but he certainly was nervous. He didn’t even know if you’d show up.

But he waited. Inside the coffee shop, at a table by the window, he waited. The barista kept giving him this look, like she pitied him because it was Valentine’s Day and he was sitting at a table for two. Alone.

He texted you and asked if you wanted to grab coffee, but you hadn’t texted him back — yet. Still, he needed something to do today, so he came anyway.

Why did he give everyone the day off? He felt ridiculous.

What Aaron didn’t know was that a few miles away, you felt even more ridiculous.

“It’s not even a date!” you cried over the phone. “What the hell am I so worked up for?”

“Because you like him!” Penelope gushed. “And he clearly likes you. Oh, I knew it, I knew it, I knew it!”

You laughed at her as you worked your boots over your heels. “Relax, Pen.”

“I won’t!”

“Okay, well, I need to go because he texted like…an hour ago and I’m not even on the way. God, what if he’s already left? I bet he—”

“Shush! No more! You have a hot date and no room for self-doubt, now go!”

“Fine, fine, I’m going. Let me text him that I’m leaving— Penelope.”

Your heart dropped out of your ass. There, staring back at you, was your text message that you meant to send an hour ago. You forgot to hit send.

“I forgot to hit send!” you screamed, flying toward the front door. “I’m such an ass!”

“No you’re not!” Penelope yelled back. “Call him!”

“I can’t!”

“I will literally add him to this call right now if you don’t—”

“Don’t you dare!” You promptly hung up with her and called Aaron. “Come on, pick up. Pick up, please, pick up—”

“Hello?”

“Hi!” you sounded out of breath. “Hi, I’m so sorry. I’m such an idiot. I meant to text you back, but it didn’t send, and I know that sounds like a stupid excuse, but I swear it’s true—”

“Y/N—”

“If you’ve already left, that’s okay, God I feel so bad—”

“Y/N,” he said again. He sounded like he was smiling. “It’s okay,” he chuckled. “I haven’t been here that long.” He had. But you didn’t need to know that, because it was irrelevant. He would wait years for you.

“I’m on my way now, I swear to god,” you said, laughing a little. “Give me five minutes and I’ll be there.”

“Do you want your usual?” he asked.

Your heart skipped a beat. He knew your order. Your usual. “Yeah,” you said. “Please. Thank you.”

“No problem,” he replied, still smiling. “I’ll have it waiting for you.”

Relief. “You’re the best.”

By the time you made it to the coffee shop, Aaron did, in fact, have your coffee waiting for you. Along with your favorite pastry from their bakery. Today, it had a pink heart on it.

He stood to his feet when he saw you come in. You looked flustered, yes, but beautiful beyond measure. He didn’t know if he was going to be able to stop himself from fainting.

You felt the same way. Seeing him out of the suit never ceased to amaze you. He wore a nice black button down today with jeans. He still looked unbelievably handsome, his hair fluffier than usual, not as slicked down as he does it for work.

“What’s all this?” you asked, sheepish. A red rose laid across the table, your favorite pastry sat next to your coffee. It was all so…sweet. “Aaron, you didn’t have to…”

He shrugged. “I wanted it to be special.”

He sat down after you did, his stomach doing somersaults. He didn’t want to point you in the direction of his question so blatantly, but he was getting impatient. He just wanted to blurt it.

Before he could, though, you turned your cup toward you and saw the writing on the side. There, in Hotch’s unmistakable all-caps handwriting, was one question: Will you be my Valentine?

You gasped, then pouted, shocked by it all, but so, so happy. Deep down, you wanted this to happen, but you never let yourself believe that it really could or that it really was.

“Really?” you asked him, looking up from the writing.

He nodded slowly, a soft smile spreading across his lips. “I know you said you don’t like the holiday, but I thought you at least deserved to have a happy one. At least once.”

You didn’t know what to say. “That’s… That’s so sweet, Aaron, wow, okay. Yes.”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Yes what?”

You grinned. He’s so cute. “I’ll be your Valentine.”

“Oh!” he laughed. “Right. Sorry, I’m so nervous.”

“Me too,” you confessed. “I was on the phone with Garcia before I came-- She knows, by the way. She insisted this was a date, but I told her not to be delusional and-- Is this a date?”

“If you want it to be,” he said. “I’d like that.”

“I’d like that too,” you murmured. “A lot.”

“Would you like to…” his voice trailed away. “I am so bad at this.”

Instinctively, your hand reached across the table and rested on his. “No you’re doing great!”

He smiled, his cheeks flushing red at your touch. He turned his hand over and clasped his fingers around yours. “Would you like to do this again? I don’t want this to just be today. I’d like to…see where this goes.”

“Me too,” you breathed, so relieved you could almost cry. “I’d love that.”

“And,” he added, enveloping your hand in both of his. “Penelope was the first to know. She saw right through me.”

“When?” you laughed. It was hard to imagine Penelope Garcia cornering Aaron Hotchner on something like this.

“I think it was your first case,” he admitted, the blush seeming permanent on his cheeks now. “I guess how I spoke on the phone gave me away.”

“The first day?” Honestly, it gave you a bit of an ego boost.

He nodded. “The very first.”

“That’s…adorable.” There was nothing else to it.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #hotch #hotch fluff #hotch x fem!reader #hotch x reader #Happy Valentine's Day #MWAH #love you guys #fluff

[mind-empty-just-fictional-people]

Birthday Pie

main masterlist | supernatural masterlist

SPOILERS! set between seasons 7 and 8 of supernatural, there are spoilers for both these seasons

summary: you celebrate his birthday even when he’s gone

pairing: dean winchester x female reader

rating: R for language

word count: 0.9k

warnings: sad, not at all a happy birthday for our beloved lil guy, language

author’s note: i’m sorry, okay? i’ve had this idea in my head for months and decided that today is a good day to release it? anyway, happy 45th birthday dean winchester! love you and very glad you’re alive and well and the series finale never happened! :)

January 24th, 2013 — Dean’s 34th Birthday.

You were barely able to drag yourself out of bed and into the living room where you were now seated and watching TV. It didn’t matter what was on, you weren’t paying attention anyway. Your mind was completely focused on Dean. Your beloved Dean; who shouldn’t be wherever the fuck he was but instead safe in your arms.

He shouldn’t be spending his birthday terrified, missing you and his brother. He should be spending it with you, Sam, and Cas.

Sure, he wasn’t really the birthday party type of guy but each year since you met him you’d gotten him a pie and put candles in it for him to blow out. It’d started as a half-assed attempt to put a smile on his face when you learned it was his birthday and you couldn’t find a cake at the store.

He’d loved it.

“How’d you know I’d rather have pie?” he had asked, his face lighting up even more when you put two candles—a two and a four—in the center.

“I…had a feeling.” You had shrugged it off as not a big deal but deep down you both knew how much it meant to him.

And each year since then—come rain, shine, monsters, or the apocalypse—you made it your job to get Dean Winchester a pie on his birthday.

A few tears rolled down your cheeks, joining the half-dried ones there already. You hadn’t been sad on Dean’s birthday since his year before hell. But it was different then, you had him next to you and you were savoring every second. You might have been terrified of what would soon happen, but you were still with him.

**

“If you’re not already aware, Dean,” Castiel started, “you turn thirty-four today.”

“What?” Dean asked, confused. “Cas we—”

“Granted time seems to be passing differently here, but on earth it is currently your birthday.”

“Happy birthday, brother,” Benny joked.

“Yeah real fuckin’ happy,” Dean scoffed. “We’re stuck killing our way through this fuckin’ nightmare while the love of my life is spending my birthday alone.”

“I’m sure she’s okay, Dean,” Cas assured him. “She has Sam, he’ll look after her until we get back.”

“No, you don’t get it. Birthdays were…they were our thing, if that makes any goddamn sense.”

**

“Happy birthday, Dean,” you smiled, placing the pie in front of him.

“Twenty-six! God, that sounds old,” Dean laughed a little.

“You’re kidding right?” you asked after singing for him as he blew out the candles.

“What?”

“Twenty six may sound old to you, but trust me you are still fuckin’ adorable.”

“I am, aren’t I?” He grinned.

“You wanna do the honors, cutie?” you asked, handing him the kitchen knife.

“Gladly, sweetheart,” he said, taking it from you. You watched him cut a slice for you then an even bigger slice for himself.

“Dean,” you started as you watched him begin eating the pie. “I love you.”

He stopped eating and looked at you; “What?”

“I know there’s a lot about your life you haven’t told me, you’re lore you could call it, but I need you to know that I really do love you, Dean Winchester.”

“But how? I mean, I’m not exactly an open book and there’s no way…” he trailed off.

“No way, what?”

“There’s no way in hell you’d feel this way if you learned everything about me.”

Your heart broke at his words, and your expression definitely showed it.

“The amount of pure love I have for you is beyond measurable, Dean. And I might be crazy for saying this, and feeling this, but there is truly nothing you could say or do that would make me stop.”

“Really?” he asked quietly, as if he was scared to press his luck.

You nodded with a soft smile; “Really.”

“Well, look I’m not really one for…that…but I do…I do feel that way about you too. I guess what I’m saying is, uh, right back at cha?”

“See to any normal person that would sound like the ramblings of a crazy man,” you said, his smile only growing. “But to me? Absolute poetry.” You leaned over and kissed him. “Happy birthday, Dean.”

He simply kissed you back, smiling against your lips.

**

“Happy birthday, Dean,” you whispered, blowing out the candles on the small pie you’d bought. It was a one-person pie because you knew if you bought a regular one that at least three-quarters would not have been eaten.

You took out the candles and picked up your fork. Staring down at the desert, you let more tears fall.

“It shouldn’t be this hard to eat a fuckin’ pie,” you laughed humorously. Your phone rang next to you and you answered it; “Hey, Sam.”

“Hey,” he sighed. “I just wanted to call and check up on you. It being Dean’s birthday and all, I figured you might…you know…”

“Be huddled up in bed sobbing my eyes out?” you said.

“Yeah…”

“I’m holding it together Sammy, don’t worry about me,” you assured him.

“I always worry about you, you know that.”

There was a short pause in the conversation as you took a deep breath and let a few more tears fall; “I miss him, Sammy,” you admitted. “I just really miss him.”

#dean winchester x reader #by mind empty just fictional people #by jean #supernatural #spn #supernatural fic #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fanfiction #dean x reader #dean winchester birthday #happy birthday dean winchester

[gothbitchshit]

Thick with Desire

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem plus sized! reader

Genre: hurt/comfort, smut, fluff

Rating: Explicit/18+ only MINORS DNI

Length: 7k

Summary: When your boyfriend Eddie’s shirt doesn’t fit, you start to feel like you don’t deserve him. But Eddie is having none of it, not when he finally gets to see how beautiful you are.

Warnings: reader is 18+ but is implied to be a senior in hs with Eddie, reader is insecure about her figure/weight, reader degrading herself for her figure/weight, briefly mentioned unsafe weight loss methods (dieting/disordered eating), Eddie being a whole simp for his thick gf, praise kink, so much dirty talk like 😮‍💨, sacrilege lol, overuse of pet names probably sorry, body worship, daddy kink 😬, face sitting/oral sex (f receiving), fingering, Eddie has a big dick, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, slight overstimulation, dumbification if you squint, dacryphilia, marking kink — if I missed anything please let me know 🖤

Requested: Yes by @joekeeray — “Don’t be shy now, come sit on my face”

A/n: I’ve been working on this for way too long, bc as a thick bitch, I felt ✨inspired✨ but this could be potentially triggering for anyone who struggles with body image issues 🖤 also this has been beta read 🫡 also my requests are open so pleaaaaaaaase send me requests ❤️

⋆ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋆

You stared at your reflection in Eddie’s mirror as fat, salty tears rolled down your face without a stop in sight. Eddie’s frantic voice muffled by the locked door as he begged you to let him in. You knew this moment was coming — it had been looming in the distance most of the day.

It had started at lunch, Jeff’s new girlfriend, Missy, wearing his old Hellfire shirt — the one he’d accidentally torn the neck of in frustration a few months ago sitting at the same table they were at now, trying to psych himself up to ask Missy on a date. You hadn’t thought much about it, in fact you thought it was cute she was putting in effort (something you figured she could stand to do more of) but that in itself wasn’t the problem.

The problem was the ideas it gave your wonderful boyfriend.

Eddie had leaned over and whispered in your ear, “Why don’t you ever wear my shirts, sweetheart?” and instead of making you buzz with excitement — as his honeyed voice usually did — it filled you with dread.

You didn’t look like Missy, no matter how hard you wished, cried, dieted, starved, or hated yourself for it. You weren’t thin or delicate like her. And no matter how many times Eddie called you his tiny baby or his little princess, you couldn’t help but feel the stab of his words deep in your chest. You weren’t tiny like he wanted you to be — like you wanted to be.

The sheer thought of attempting to squeeze yourself into your boyfriends shirt made you want to cry. The material, while baggy on his lean frame, would stretch threadbare, and there wasn’t a chance in hell it would be long enough to cover your tummy. The idea of Eddie seeing you had caused you to shy away from his affections on more than one occasion. You’d never let him get your clothes all the way off, and had carefully avoided the topic of sex by learning how to give Eddie the best head of his life, and letting him finger you to his heart’s desire. It wasn’t like Eddie was pushing you, or cared in the slightest that you hadn’t gone all the way yet. And you’d almost given in on multiple occasions, when his hands would brush over your body in the most sinful ways and his voice rasped in your ear, verging on desperation as he explained all the filthy things he wanted to do to you.

You weren’t a virgin, although being with Eddie had made you wish you’d waited for someone like him before giving it up to Andrew Johnson at the Halloween party sophomore year. Especially not when you came to school the next day and the basketball team — bar Steve Harrington — had been whispering about what you looked like under your clothes. The whispers stopped quickly after Will Byers had disappeared along with Barb Holland, and the Nancy Wheeler and Steve Harrington drama had thrown you back into social obscurity: back where you felt safe.

It had taken you nearly 2 years to trust another boy. You’d almost given up on men entirely — like your best friend Robin had suggested you do — but Eddie had wormed his way into your heart so easily. You trusted him with everything you had. But you were so scared that if Eddie saw you, all of you, he would decide you weren’t good enough anymore, that you weren’t enough.

It wasn’t long after Eddie had whispered in your ear that you were pushing your half eaten lunch away from you, standing up from your seat. “I need to talk to Mrs. Highland about making up a test,” you mumbled into Eddie’s ear, pressing a gentle kiss to cheek. He opened his mouth to speak, to question you about why you were leaving so suddenly, but you were already nearly out the door.

You carefully avoided him the rest of the day — taking long detours around areas you knew he frequented. You even went so far as to pretend you didn’t see him while talking to Robin between classes, unable to miss the hurt on his face. It broke your heart to know that you made him feel that way. But you didn’t know how to talk to him about this.

However, much to your chagrin, that kind, wonderful boyfriend of yours waiting for you at your locker at the end of the day, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Sweetheart, what’s going on? Did I do something wrong?”

The confusion swirling in his big brown eyes had tears welling in yours as you shook your head, “No, ’m sorry,” you mumbled, tucking yourself under his chin as his arms wrapped around you.

“What happened, my love?” He cooed, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“Nothin’, just got in my head,” you sighed, willing away the tears that gathered in your bottom lashes. He looked suspicious, but let it go to tuck you back into his embrace, steering you out of the school — books and homework forgotten in your locker.

The ride to his trailer was quiet, comfortably so, with Eddie’s hand on your thigh, gently kneading the muscle through your jeans. It was something he had always done, his hands never straying from your body for too long. But today the sight made you feel sick to your stomach.

In your head, you could see that same beautiful, veined hand with thick, golden fingers, adorned with clunky metal rings on another girls thigh — a much smaller and daintier leg belonging to a girl more beautiful and more deserving the place in the passenger seat of Eddie’s van and in in his heart. If he noticed your silent suffering, he didn’t show it while he drove; Iron Maiden played softly while Eddie hummed along per usual.

It wasn’t until you’d gotten into Eddie’s trailer that he said anything — something entirely out of character for him — but you were too in your head to notice. “Alright, baby, time to tell good ol’ Eddie what’s bothering you. Because I can see those tears from here, and I’ve seen them in your eyes since lunch. Fess up babe,” he rambled, his tone light, but you knew him too well.

You could see the way his hands shook as he rubbed them on the outside of his pants, pulling off his Dio vest and leather jacket as he spoke, his voice wavering on hysterical; he was anxious. The tears you had swallowed came back with a vengeance, immediately slipping down your cheeks as he gasped.

“No, no, no, my love! I don’t want you to cry! Just please tell me what I’ve done and I’ll—“

“You d-didn’t do a-anything, Eds,” you stuttered through the tears, “I’m j-just sensitive is all, a-almost my period,” you lied, and Eddie’s frown deepened, taking two steps toward you to catch your face in his hands.

“Princess, light of my life, I know you’re lying to me,” he whispered, brushing a thumb over your cheek to wipe away a tear. You shook your head, trying to deny his accusations, but you couldn’t force another lie out of your mouth even when you tried. “Oh. I think I know,” he trailed off.

“Eds really, I’m okay, I just am having a rough day and I don’t—“

“No, baby, I should have put it together earlier. When Missy was wearing Jeff’s shirt at lunch, I saw the look on your face. I’m sorry I’ve never given you one of my shirts to wear, I just never thought about it. But I swear, princess, I want to see it.”

Ice ran through your veins at his words. You tried to protest — you really did — but somehow you ended up in the tight bathroom of Eddie’s trailer, struggling to pull his shirt over yourself as tears streamed down your face silently. It was tight and uncomfortable as you struggled, the enclosed space making your skin sticky as you fought the fabric.

Your reflection in the mirror made you feel sick — his shirt looked like a crop top on you. The soft skin of your tummy hanging out the bottom, and the white material was stretched thin across your chest, making your breasts look somehow larger than they were.

“Sweetheart, let me in, I wanna see you,” Eddie’s voice called out sweetly.

You couldn’t contain the sob that forced itself out of your chest. The thought of Eddie seeing you like this made you wish his bathroom had a window you could fit out of, so you could simply disappear instead of having to face him like this.

“No, Eddie, you can’t come in,” you choked out, and he went silent for a second before the doorknob started twisting.

“Why are you crying, sweetheart? What’s wrong? Are you okay? Please let me in,” he begged.

You tried to keep the words in, but the earnest tone of his voice tore them out of your mouth before you could stop them, “Missy was wearing Jeff’s shirt and she looked so cute and so small and I know I’ll never look like her. I shouldn’t even be with you Eddie, you’re so beautiful, you deserve someone as beautiful as you are — like Chrissy or Jennifer — and I don’t know why you even want to be with someone like me.”

“Sweetheart just open the door,” he pleaded.

“No, just give me a minute and let me change and just drop it okay? You don’t wanna see me like this, just please go away,” you whimpered softly.

His frantic pulling on the doorknob stopped for a second, followed by a tiny, almost imperceptible click, and then the door was swinging open to reveal your boyfriend, lock pick in hand.

Time seemed to slow as he stared at you, his eyes going wide and his jaw falling open in shock as he looked at you. Every insult you’d ever heard came flooding back through your mind as you tried to prepare yourself for Eddie’s inevitable disgust.

“Eddie please just go,” you begged, crossing your arms over your stomach to hide from him. You tried not to choke on a sob as he stared at you, frozen in the doorway, expression unreadable in his eyes. “I-I’m sorry, I’ll take it off, I’m sorry I stretched it out and I’ll give you the money to make a new one; just please don’t-don’t leave me because I look—“

Your words seemed to snap him out of his daze, his eyes zeroing in on your face as his eyebrows furrowed. “Baby, I don’t know why you’re apologizing,” he said quietly, straightening himself out and taking careful steps toward you.

You sagged in defeat as he moved toward you, “Because I’m fat, Eddie and I ruined your shirt and I’m not good enough for you and I’m too selfish to let you go when I know you deserve better than me. But I’ll try! I’ll try for you, I swear I will, I love you so much, I’ll lose some weight, just please—“

“Don’t.” Eddie said firmly, crowding you into the corner of the bathroom, his hands on your cheeks as he stood over you. “Do not say another mean word about yourself, or change a single hair on your pretty little head. I love you, exactly as you are.”

“You don’t mean that,” you hiccuped softly, curling in on yourself.

“Hey, look at me baby,” he ordered. You turned your eyes up at him slowly, “You are perfect. God I mean, look at you.”

Tears started falling again as you felt the weight of his words settle on you. “Just look at yourself,” your parents would say, grinding your self confidence into powder under their heels.

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered sadly.

Eddie sighed, grabbing your hand in one of his, placing it on his bulge without a word. The shock of his action stunning you into silence, effectively stopping your tears. A sweet smile spread across his face as you looked up at him in confusion before he was bending down to press a kiss to your forehead, “The only thing you have to be sorry about is saying all those nasty things about my girl. Shit baby, if I would have known how goddamn sexy under those baggy shirts, I would have burned all your other clothes before this.”

“Stop, it’s not funny,” you whined, turning away from him, but his hand caught your chin, fingers digging into your cheeks as he forced you to look into his eyes.

“Princess, I’m not joking,” he said seriously, “I thought I was fucking dreaming when I opened the door. Seeing you standing here in nothing but your jeans and my shirt? I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.”

“But Eddie it’s so small on me, I look so—“

“God that’s the best fuckin’ part babe,” he groaned, “I didn’t know I needed to see you in a tight little crop top, but you are so… Fuck, you put those cheerleaders to shame, angel.”

You could feel your face heating up under his heady gaze — the look in his eyes was dark and nearly feral. He looked hungry; hungry for you.

“My pretty little baby,” he cooed, closing the gap between the two of you, letting his chest brush against yours, “Doesn’t even know how perfect she is, hm? Guess I need to treat my girl better; don’t I?”

“N-no, you’re perfect, Eds,” you sighed as he dropped his head into the crook of your neck, planting sloppy kisses along the skin.

“No, princess, you’re perfect. I can’t believe I’ve never gotten you in my clothes before, never gotten you naked before, I’m such an idiot,” he huffed, hands beginning to wander over the exposed skin of your tummy. “God, I love your fuckin’ skin. As soon as I touch it it’s like electricity is running through me. Always wanted to know what you felt like, bare under my hands,” he slurred, his hands moving to cup your breasts. “And your tits? Fuck, sweetheart — I love your tits, y’know that? They’re fuckin’ heavenly.”

“Eddie,” you whined, letting your head drop back onto the small, square bathroom window. Eddie’s hands were lighting a fire in your veins.

“Am I allowed to pick you up, my pretty girl?” Eddie asked softly, “Because I wanna take you to bed so bad, sweetheart. Fuck you so good, make you cum till you’re crying and forget all those mean things you think about yourself. Wanna fill that pretty pussy and keep you all fucked out and cockdrunk in my bed. Can I do that? Will you let me take you to bed, and fuck you like I’ve been dying to for ages now?”

“Eddie, I don’t know if you can—” you whispered, but you were cut off by Eddie’s hands digging into the plush skin of your thighs before lifting you off the ground easily.

You yelped, wrapping your arms around his neck and threading your fingers into his hair. “My tiny little thing thinks I’m some sort of weakling? Can’t hold up my precious girl? I really haven’t been treatin’ you like you deserve, sweetheart,” he mumbled into your neck, as your thighs wrapped around his waist.

He managed to squeeze you both out of the small bathroom before crossing the distance to his bed and dropping you unceremoniously. You hit the mattress with a gasp, feeling dazed as the room spun slightly.

When you were able to refocus your gaze, all you could see was him, hovering at the end of the bed — your mouth beginning to water as you stared at his heaving chest. He’d pulled his shirt off in the few moments you’d been dazed — the patch of dark hair that trailed from his bellybutton to the hem of his pants pulled your focus immediately.

God you’d never wanted him so bad in your life. You wanted to devour him, feel his cock unhinging your jaw and lodging itself into your throat — but you also wanted him inside you, desperately. You’d cum with his name on your lips as you fucked yourself into oblivion night after night in the safety of your sheets, thinking about his long, thick cock splitting you open.

“Eddie, please,” you groaned, your eyes rolling back in your head as you squirmed on his bed. The ache in your cunt was making your brain hazy with need.

“Just gimme a minute, sweetheart, I gotta burn this image into my head. Gonna think about you like this for the rest of my fuckin’ life, like fuck, babe, you’re the goddamn dream,” he groaned, grabbing your ankle, lifting it up to his cheek, nuzzling into the sliver of skin between the hem of your jeans and the top of your shoe before pressing a soft kiss there. “I’m gonna treat you right, sweetheart, but I gotta know if you’re okay with this first. Because I don’t ever, ever, wanna make you feel uncomfortable. If you say stop, I’ll stop, no questions asked, but baby please, I gotta see you, all of you.” You responded with a single nod, the words dying in your throat as he stared at you from behind his fluttering eyelashes. His pupils were blown wide with lust, and you could have sworn you had never felt more desired in your life. “None of that, I need words, princess. Tell me that this is okay, and I’ll spend the rest of the night worshiping you like you deserve.”

You thought for a moment about every interaction you’d ever had with Eddie, trying to come up with a single reason you shouldn’t trust him with all of you. When you came up woefully short, all you could do was whisper a small, “I trust you.”

A near feral groan coming out of his chest as his head snapped back, his shoulders sagging in relief. “Fuck,” he moaned sinfully, “You’re gonna make me blow my load in my pants if you keep talking like that,” he smirked, making you giggle. “Now, let’s get my princess out of these clothes.”

You bit back a sigh as he pulled the shoe off your foot slowly, letting it drop to the floor next to him before peeling off the sock. The feeling made you shiver as his fingers ran over the sensitive skin of your foot, tracing the tendons and veins lightly — almost as if to commit it to memory — before putting your ankle onto his shoulder and grabbing your other leg, repeating the action of pulling off your shoe and sock. As soon as he placed the other foot on his shoulder, he was dropping to his knees at the foot of the bed, hands running up the covered expanse of your legs gently.

“I’m gonna take your pants off now baby, is that okay?” He asked, looking up at you from between your legs.

The sight made you sigh, only being able to let out a breathy “Yeah,” in response to his question. He grinned, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your jeans, taking his time to unbutton and unzip your pants torturously slow before finally beginning to strip you of them — leaving you covered only by the thin strip of maroon lace, barely hiding your pussy from his heavy gaze.

You half expected him to dive into your cunt face first based on the look in his eyes, but Eddie’s hands splayed out across your exposed skin, silent as he kneaded at your naked flesh, watching how the dimpled skin reacted under his purposeful movements. He crawled up your body slowly, dragging his mouth across your soft skin before resting his chin on your stomach, his hands buried underneath you to grab at your ass.

“I’m mad at you,” he mumbled, dropping his forehead, mouthing at the plump skin of your belly and tracing his tongue along your stretch marks, “Been hiding this from me for so long, s’mean, baby. Keeping these thighs, and this tummy, and your pretty pussy away from me? Not anymore, nuh uh, not gonna let you hide anymore. Not now that I know I’ve got the prettiest baby in the universe.”

You felt your face heat up at his words, the argument on the tip of your tongue, but the words were stolen from your mouth when Eddie’s mouth attached itself to your cunt as he sucked on the thin material of your panties lewdly. The ghost of pressure on your clit made you jolt, a shiver running down your spine.

“Oh, my baby is so worked up,” he cooed softy, placing a chaste kiss on your pubic bone before crawling up the bed to lay on the pillows. You stared at him in confusion as he got himself comfortable, his eyes meeting yours before he smirked. “Don’t be shy now, come sit on my face.”

You sputtered for a few seconds, unable to process the words that had just come out of his mouth. “Eddie, you-you can’t I mean-I’m too—“

He simply sighed and grabbed your wrist, pulling you on top of him with nearly no effort, his eyes narrowed as your knees slotted over his thin waist. “You say another word about this body — this fucikn’ amazing, sexy, unbelievable body of yours that I love and worship — I will have no choice but to punish you, got it?” You nodded solemnly at the seriousness of his tone, making the pretty smile you were used to grow on his face. “Now be a good girl and sit on my face.”

Good girl. The words burned through you like lightning, and you knew you’d do almost anything to hear them again. Especially falling out of his mouth sounding like honey and the promise of forever — of more. So you swallowed the protest that threatened to escape you and shuffled up his body until your knees were planted on both sides of his head.

“That’s right sweetheart, now just sit,” he commanded, pulling your panties to the side with his thumb and slamming your hips down onto his face with his arm wrapped around your back.

The sensation was almost too much to handle, his warm, wet tongue licking a fat stripe up your cunt, circling your clit with his tongue before dragging the appendage back through your folds slowly to tease at your opening. You couldn’t stop your hips from rocking against his ministrations, both your hands burying themselves in his hair, earning a groan. “Fuck, Eddie,” you moaned.

“Fuck baby, you taste so good,” he groaned into you, the vibrations zinging through you, setting your nerves alight.

“Eddie-fuck!” you choked out a yelp, your thighs tightening around his head as your hips moved of their own volition. You could barely focus on a single sensation at once, Eddie’s hands were everywhere — on your ass, running up your exposed thighs, pawing at your tits that were still covered by the too small Hellfire shirt.

You now understood why girls would rave about getting eaten out by their boyfriends — his mouth on your cunt felt like heaven. You almost couldn’t remember why you’d never done it before, because the sounds he was making as he ate you, the way he touched you, and the way he made you feel was intoxicating. You felt sexy and powerful in a way you’d never felt before, especially with how he spoke to you.

“Come on pretty baby, cum on my face, lemme hear those sweet noises you make just for me,” Eddie hissed before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking harshly, ripping the orgasm from you forcefully as you wailed and shook in his hold.

The sensation of your orgasm tearing through you had you losing all sense of reality. You felt like you were flying, or dying, or both at the same time, and you never wanted it to end. “Fuck, daddy, ’sgood,” you mumbled, unable to stop the word from coming out of your mouth.

You didn’t even realize you had said it until you were flipped onto your back with Eddie in your face, eyes dark and full of ravenous lust. “What did you say?” he ground out through gritted teeth. You shook your head, tears welling in your vision as you tried to think of an excuse. “My pretty baby, still needs to learn how to use her words,” he sighed before pushing your knees up to your chest, slotting himself between them. “That's okay, I’ll teach you.”

Without warning, and without a second of hesitation, he was ripping the thin lace nearly to shreds and pushing a finger into your warmth, grinning sadistically when your eyes rolled back. His pace was slow and brutal, pulling out all the way before slipping back in in perfect measured strokes, as if he was keeping time in his head to some unknown song devised purely to drive you insane.

“That’s right, take my fingers like a good girl,” he smirked, adding another finger without losing his rhythm. You could feel every ridge and bump of his fingers, the cool metal of his ring touching your spread open warmth made heat flare in your belly as you could barely breathe let alone function with his relentless pace, and each measured thrust of his fingers made your brain grow fuzzier. “Now tell me again what you said baby and I’ll reward you.”

The promise of more had you folding easily as you panted a soft, “Daddy, please,” arching your back and rutting your hips into his perfectly measured thrusts. You were rewarded with Eddie’s teeth sinking into the meat of your thigh, another wave of arousal running through you. Your face burned with shame as you heard the wet sound of his fingers slamming into you.

“You like that, don’t you? You like when daddy’s a little mean, hm?” he teased softly, pulling his fingers all the way out of you, staring at your pussy as it fluttered. “You want me back in there, don’t you baby? Your little hole is desperate to get filled isn’t it?” he asked, making you nod as you bit your lip to stop from begging. “Don’t worry princess, daddy’s got you. Just gimme a second, gotta make sure you’re all ready for me,” he grinned.

“Eddie, please, I need you to—“ you started to beg, but Eddie shushed you with another sharp nip to your inner thigh, pulling an embarrassingly high pitched moan out of you.

“Don’t rush me, angel. I’m a tactile learner, and I need a moment to acquaint myself with my new earmuffs before I ruin that pretty hole of yours, got it?” he said firmly. His casual tone made you clench around nothing, feeling more wetness seep out of you onto your thighs. You nodded, sinking back onto his pillow as you tried to catch your breath.

He hummed happily, sitting back on his heels to look at you again, “I can’t get enough baby, I’m sorry, I just—fuck you’re so pretty,” he rambled, “I don’t understand why you’d ever think you’re anything less than perfection. I mean, shit baby, you’re a fuckin’ goddess. My own personal Aphrodite,” he smiled, kissing the inside of your knee.

His impassioned words made you shiver and squirm, and you could feel your arousal pooling on the sheet under you. You knew Eddie had a way with words, but you never expected him to be able to break through years of self deprecation and insecurities with a few compliments.

But even more so than his words was the way Eddie held you and touched you. His fingers trailed over your stretch marks like they were paint strokes of a priceless work of art, and his mouth moved over your skin as if he was savoring the taste of something expensive. It was addicting to feel so loved and wanted — Eddie was addicting.

Ever since the first time you’d met, you realized he had entirely invaded your mind. You hadn’t spent a single day not thinking of him, always finding a reason to be with him or even just talk to him on the phone. Eddie had you — hook, line, and sinker.

“I love you, Eddie,” you sighed, his hands coming to a stop on your stomach.

The next thing you knew he was hovering inches above your face, his eyes glassy as his guitar pick hit your chin, “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it baby, because I’ll really get my hopes up if you do and that would just break my heart if you don’t—“ he started rambling, but you cut him off with a soft hand on his cheek.

“I mean it, Eddie. I love you. I’m sorry I’ve been too scared to say it,” you smiled softly, feeling a tear hit your face. A shred of guilt bubbled in your gut as he stared into his eyes — he had made it clear when he told you he loved you a few weeks prior that he wasn’t expecting you to say it back until you were ready. And you hadn’t been — until now.

“Fuck, princess, I love you. You’re mine now. Mine forever. I’m never letting you go. You look like this and you love me? Never letting anyone take you away from me, baby,” he breathed, crushing his lips to yours firmly. You could taste the tang of your essence on his tongue as it invaded your mouth, his hands pushing under his Hellfire shirt.

He pulled back with a soft smile, kissing the tip of your nose before peeling the shirt off, his eyes going wide as he studied you. You watched his eyes move over every inch of you, no curve or dimple going unseen by him.

“Jesus Christ. I have to be dead. No way in hell God is letting you walk around dripping in pure sin,” he mumbled, mostly to himself. It would have made you giggle if it didn’t make your mouth dry and fanned the flames of desire in your gut.

“Eddie, please,” you sighed, hooking your heels around his waist, pulling him closer to you.

“Gimme a minute, sweetheart. I’m discovering a new religion,” he groaned, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth before sinking back into his position between your spread thighs, “And I’ve found my place of divine worship,” he smirked before burying his face in your cunt.

The sounds he was making bordered on obscene, but you weren’t much better. The high pitched breathy whines leaving your mouth would have made you embarrassed a few hours ago, but now, you couldn’t feel anything but love and desire. It wrapped around you, filling you with a warmth that only Eddie could provide.

The way he devoured you was different — the first time was fueled by a desire to tease, but this was ravenous. His eyes were rolled back as he lapped at your cunt messily, grunts and moans coming out of his mouth. His arm pinned your hips to the mattress, not letting you move an inch as his free hand toyed with your nipples lazily. The feeling of the cold chain on his wrist pressing into your soft tummy and the cold metal buckle of his watch on your hipbone kept you grounded.

“Don’t fight me, angel, let me make you feel good,” he slurred into your pussy, eyes half closed as he pulled back. “Gonna fuck you so good, sweetheart. Gonna make you feel so good,” he sighed, slipping his fingers back into your cunt with a moan, the cold of his metal rings meeting your cunt made you flinch. “See, I belong in here, she opens up for me so sweetly. Squeezin’ me so tight like she never wants to let me go. Made for me, princess. You were made for me, little bunny. I always knew you were, but now I know for sure.”

It was almost embarrassing how fast your orgasm was coming, but you could feel it building quickly. “Fuck, daddy, please,” you cried out, grabbing his forearm where it sat across your hipbones.

“That’s right baby, cum for me. Give me your blessing,” he smirked, his fingers crooking upwards, slamming into the spot that only he seemed to be able to find, and you came apart with a scream.

You felt like you couldn’t breathe let alone think, your whole body being ripped at the seams and put back together again and again, galaxies appearing in your vision and you almost understood what Eddie was talking about. You couldn’t form coherent words as you were blinded by your orgasm, only managing to mumble out a broken, “Please don’t leave,” through the tears.

“My sweet crybaby, I’m not going anywhere. I’m keeping you forever. No one will ever compare to you,” he whispered in your ear, continuing to work his fingers inside you. “Do you think you can take more, sweet girl? Or are you done for today—“

“No! Please, Eddie, I need you to fuck me,” you sobbed, nails digging into his shoulders, “I just need a second, that’s all. I want you, please.”

“Shit baby, you don’t need to beg,” Eddie laughed, kissing your forehead before pulling his fingers out of you with a groan. Through bleary eyes you could see Eddie take his fingers into his mouth, his eyes rolling back as he sucked them clean with a moan, “Fuck, angel. I’ll never get enough of how you taste. So sweet, and all for me.”

The sheer possessiveness in Eddie’s voice made you melt, a shiver running through you as he stared into your eyes, the warm brown a tiny ring around the dark black irises blown wide. “Please, Eddie, I want you to fuck me,” you pleaded, grabbing his hands.

“If you insist, baby,” he cooed gently, rolling onto his back next to you. You heard the clink of his belt coming undone, the handcuff buckle that made your head spin giving way under his dexterous fingers. You hadn’t realized you were transfixed by him, the way his fingers moved to unbutton his pants and drag the zipper down slowly before unceremoniously shoving his jeans and boxers down his long, lean legs, making you clench your thighs together with a whine. His cock sprang free and slapped against his stomach, tip already leaking.

“See something you like, princess?” he asked, making you nod wordlessly, “Good, because I’ve been painfully hard since I saw you in the bathroom, and truthfully I don’t know how long I’m gonna last baby. Your pussy tastes too good, and you’re just too damn beautiful.”

You moaned again, throwing your head back onto his pillow, choosing to ignore his chuckle as he sat between your open legs. You hummed happily feeling him part your pussy lips gently, gasping as you felt the tip of his cock drag through your folds, jolting when you felt the wet bead of pre cum on your clit. “Don’t be mean,” you pouted, opening your eyes to see Eddie smirking down at you.

“My sweet bunny, this isn’t mean,” he laughed, shaking his head, “But you like it a little mean, don’t you?”

You opened your mouth to argue with him, the words caught in your throat with a choke as the head of his cock pushed into your opening, a deep groan taking its place, “Fuck, Eddie.”

“While I do love hearing you moan my name, I rather enjoy the name you lovingly bestowed upon me,” he grinned, inching his hips forward another fraction of an inch before stopping. “Say it again, and I’ll give you what you want, princess.”

You gave in instantly, a warbley, “Please, daddy, I’ll do anything,”coming out of your mouth. The delicious burn of his thick cock splitting you open was more than you had imagined. You knew he’d be a stretch, he’d barely fit in your throat and you knew none of the toys you had hidden in your nightstand were as thick as he was.

“God, you’re just so good for me, sweetheart,” he groaned, rewarding your obedience by pushing himself forward slowly, your velvety walls opening up for him. Tears gathered in the corners of your eyes, silently slipping down the sides of your cheeks, disappearing into your hair. “I love you, my little crybaby,” he cooed, “I know you like it when I’m mean, so don’t try to lie to me. And I’m only gonna ask you this once. Do you want me to be nice, or do you want me to fuck you how I feel my girl needs to be fucked?” You couldn’t do anything but nod dumbly, making him laugh. “I thought so. It’s okay baby, let daddy take care of you.”

With that, he pushed himself all the way in, stealing the air from your lungs and whatever remaining thoughts you had as he did. You lost control of the moans coming out of your mouth, each one more strangled and desperate than the last, and you couldn’t think of anything but Eddie — the way he felt on top of you, the dark black ink that marked his chest, the toe curling pressure of his cock forcing its way into you, and the light catching the sparkly red pick he always kept around his neck swaying back and forth with the time of his thrusts.

But what consumed you was Eddie’s moans. The deep, guttural, raspy moans that sounded like music as they poured out of his throat, veins protruding from his bared neck as the ends of his frizzy hair tickled your skin. You wanted to sink your teeth into the pale expanse, marking him as yours for everyone to see, your mouth nearly watering at the idea.

“I’m not gonna last baby,” he groaned, sounding strained as he squeezed your joined hands, pressed firmly against the mattress, “Where do you want me to cum, sweetheart?”

“Inside,” you whined out, clenching around him at the thought of it as your legs tightened around his waist, locking him against you. The loud, desperate moan that came out of him seared itself into your brain as his hips stuttered to a stop, his pelvis pressed against yours as you felt his cock pulsing inside you, along with the warmth of his cum flooding into you. You didn’t fight the moan of your own at the sensation, feeling your skin tingle with sweat as you teetered on the brink of a third orgasm.

“Fuck, sweetheart, I’m sorry, I couldn’t stop myself,” he panted, his hips jolting every few seconds making you yelp when he ground down onto your sensitive clit, “You can’t just say shit like that and expect me not to lose it angel,” he sighed, pulling out of you with a hiss.

You whined loudly, catching his attention as you reached out for him, your hands burying in his hair as your arms wrapped around his neck.

“What do you need, sweet pea?” he asked, kissing the tears off your cheeks, “Do you need to cum again or are you too overstimulated?” he questioned softly. You couldn’t find the words to respond, only coming up with another desperate whine and a roll of your hips against his softening cock. He grinned victoriously, “That’s my dumb little baby, bein’ so desperate for me even though it hurts so good, doesn’t it?” You nodded solemnly, more tears leaking out of your eyes as you did. “I’ve got you, don’t worry princess.”

His fingers on your clit brought spots to your vision, your mouth falling open in a silent scream as you gasped and writhed against him, unable to focus on anything but the sensation of his fingers on you, and the look of absolute love and devotion in his eyes. “Kiss me,” you gasped.

The next thing you knew, his tongue was in your mouth and your body was convulsing against his hold, the rings on his fingers biting into your skin as he squeezed you impossibly closer to him with one hand and the other rubbed quick, harsh circles on your sensitive clit.

You went boneless against him, fully spent as you came down from your third high. You vaguely registered Eddie’s body moving off the bed and the sound of water running before his hands — his annoyingly pretty, devastatingly talented hands, were rubbing circles into the skin of your inner thighs with a soft washcloth before throwing it somewhere and settling himself beside you.

“You doing okay there, honey?” he asked, kissing your cheek as he maneuvered you into his lap, head resting on his chest as you laid between his open legs. “Did I go too hard?” You shook your head, giving him a soft, dazed smile.

“You were perfect Eddie,” you sighed, letting yourself relax against him, kissing the spider tattoo on his chest making him shiver and laugh.

“No, you got it wrong baby, you are perfect. Jesus Christ, letting me cum inside you and taking three orgasms like a goddamn champ? I swear you were fuckin’ made for me,” Eddie sighed dreamily, making you laugh. After a few moments of silence, he tensed and began stuttering, “I-uh-do have to ask though. A-are you, like, you know—“

“Yes, babe, I am on the pill. We don’t need any little Munson’s showing up before we even graduate,” you laughed, his body sagging in relief.

“Oh fuck, Jesus, you’re the best. I love you so fuckin’ much it should be criminal,” he sighed, kissing the top of your head.

“I love you too, Eddie.”

You sat in silence for a moment, before Eddie groaned, “Seriously though, princess. I’m gonna need you to buy a pair of shorts like, immediately. But you can not wear them to school because I will have to bend you over a desk and fuck you in front of everyone so they all know you’re mine.”

“I mean… I should still have my scoops ahoy uniform from last summer at my house? I could bring it next time—“

Eddie slunk out from under you, on his feet and pulling on his jeans before you could blink. You stared at him, mouth open as he gathered your discarded clothes and threw them to you, “Nope we’re gonna go get it now, because I need to see this.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #stranger things smut #stranger things fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson x plus size reader

[estinesstories]

𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓓𝓲𝓭𝓷’𝓽 𝓜𝓮𝓪𝓷 𝓣𝓱𝓪𝓽.

𝙑𝙤𝙭 𝙭 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: 𝙔𝙤𝙪 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙑𝙤𝙭 𝙜𝙚𝙩 𝙞𝙣𝙩𝙤 𝙖 𝙛𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙖𝙗𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙖𝙗𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙝𝙤𝙢𝙚, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙗𝙤𝙩𝙝 𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙪𝙥 𝙨𝙖𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 𝙤𝙪𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙧. 𝙉𝙚𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙢𝙚𝙖𝙣 𝙞𝙩, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙛𝙞𝙣𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙮 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧.

𝙒𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝘼𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙩, 𝙛𝙤𝙪𝙡 𝙡𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙪𝙖𝙜𝙚, 𝙗𝙡𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙩𝙤𝙭𝙞𝙘𝙞𝙩𝙮, 𝙫𝙞𝙤𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚, 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙣𝙙.

(𝙏𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙙𝙤 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮, 𝙄 𝙟𝙪𝙨𝙩 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙞𝙩 🥰)

It all started with a slam of the door, that’s when things first started going down hill.

“Don’t slam the door,” You grumbled, one more slam and you’d have to buy a new one. “where have you been? You were supposed to be here hours ago.”

He only scoffed and glared at you out of the corner of his eye, taking off his shoes. You leaned against the kitchen counter to your spacious apartment with your arms crossed, dressed in a sweatshirt and some sweatpants.

“Don’t ask me stupid fucking questions,” He huffed, not yet meeting your eyes as he made his way to the cold dinner plate left on the island counter you were leaning on. “I told you I had a meeting that extended my hours.”

“No, you didn’t.” You stated sternly, making him finally look you in the eyes with annoyance. You ignored it and kept on, your voice rising with every word till you were almost yelling. “You never tell me anything, and it always leaves me worried on the couch looking at Velvette’s socials to make sure you’re there and not-”

You quickly cut yourself off. What were you even going to say- cheating? You felt your eyes sting slightly at the thought, but Vox didn’t seem to notice your sudden discomfort, instead taking the situation in the worst way. He growled, though it came out distorted, as he stomped a few paces towards you.

“What, fuckin’ some other chick? Are you seriously accusing me of cheating?” His own worries that accumulated inside his head came out in fits of anger. He didn’t mean that, not with that tone. Still, he went on. “Do you actually think I’d do that to you? After all I’ve done for you? If anything, you’d cheat on me!”

Holy fuck, he didn’t mean that at all. His screen glitched as he over thought the words, but you were too busy arguing, hurt that he would think you’d be disloyal.

“What in the fuck are you talking about? Why the hell would I ever cheat on you, Vox!?” You yelled in his face, vision becoming blurry from tears. He scowled at you, eyes widening in surprise at your little outburst, not even noticing this wasn’t anger, but pain putting you in this state.

“You don’t ge- zzt- to yell at me like that, fa-c-ce it! We both know you’d be t-t-the one to cheat in this relationship, you don’t-t-t even like me anymor-r-re!” He yelled back, voice glitching as his fans ran wild to stop him from blowing a fuse. You were taken aback, but refused to show it too much.

“What the hell are you talking about? Vox, when have I ever been anything but loving to you!? You’re the one running around, not telling me anything, lying to me, and making up shit excuses not to be home when I’m awake!” You cried, why would he accuse you of not loving him? That’s insane!

“What am I t-t-talking about? The fu- u-u-u-zzzt- ck are you talking abou- u-u- t!?” He shoved a finger in your face, but didn’t dare touch you. “For the last two fucking m-months, you’ve been so dis-s-s-tant! You never go on any dates with me, e-e-e-every time I’m home you’re either asleep or giving me the fucking c-cold shoulder.” He almost mumbled the last part. He hated these fights so much, and so did you, but when you were both tired, stressed, and stripped of love for months, stuff happens.

“That’s because you’re fucking famous, Vox! If I ever went out with you, it wouldn’t be date, it’d be a damn interview!” Tears streamed down your face, and Vox felt his heart break into a million pieces as he stopped dead in his trace. But he couldn’t just shut the fuck up, could he?

“Well, you should’ve f-zzzt-cking known you were gonna get your a-ass flapped down by fans-s when you chose to date one o-of the largest company owners-s-zzt- in the pentagra-a-a-m!” He deadpanned, face scrunching up with a mix of annoyance and guilt. Why couldn’t he just shut the fuck up?

“Well, maybe I didn’t date you because you were fucking famous, I dated you because I fell in love!” You retorted, getting inches away from his screen. Why couldn’t he just get it through his thick frame?

“Or m-maybe,” he was grateful he had no tear ducts, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t cry. “You jus-s-t couldn’t comprehend-d the idea of not being o-o-on top, the right h-hand of one of the most pow-w-erful s-s-zzt-inners in the pentagra-a-m. You just ha-a-d to play with my feelings-s-zzt- and use me-e to get better-r.”

All of his insecurities about your relationship were just thrown on the ground in front of you, and now you could see that you weren’t the only one suffering in this short time of your relationship. You understood where he was coming from, and realized that this screaming-fest wasn’t helping anything.

Your eyes softened as they gazed into his pink ones, his beautiful pink eyes, brimming with sorrow. Tears freely flowed hot down your cheeks now as you looked at him lovingly.

“Oh, baby…” you whispered as you slowly brought your hand up to the side of his screen, gently caressing it as he only stared at you. As you softly rubbed the pad of your thumb across the side of his screen, though, he couldn’t help but lean into your touch.

Just because you fight sometimes, doesn’t mean you don’t love each other.

𝘼𝙡𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩! 𝙏𝙝𝙖𝙩’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙣𝙙, 𝙝𝙤𝙥𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚𝙙 𝙞𝙩, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙡𝙮 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙮 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙨𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙤𝙣𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙤 𝙝𝙖𝙨 𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙤𝙣 𝙮𝙤𝙪! 𝙎𝙩𝙖𝙮 𝙨𝙖𝙛𝙚! 💗💗💗💗💗

𝘿𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙗𝙮 @𝙘𝙖𝙛𝙚𝙠𝙞𝙩𝙨𝙪𝙣𝙚

#hazbin hotel #Vox #vox x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #angst with a happy ending #toxic love #Spotify

[tojisbbygworl]

How Could You - Hobie Brown x Reader

Summary: Hobie was not the best boyfriend. It’s not his fault, he has an obligation to his city and by proxy, the multiverse. But, he doesn’t want to lose you. Unfortunately, revealing his secret does the opposite of what he had hoped.

Tags: Angst, Hurt/No Comfort,Canon-Divergence, (Hobie doesn’t reveal himself after killing Osbourne, Comic villains and events but movie Hobie, He’s supposed to be British but I forgot like halfway through writing)

Words: 3147

author’s note: If I had a nickel for everytime a girl broke up with her superhero bf bcs he lied abt being a superhero I would have 2 nickels.

Honestly tho I rly don’t like the whole ‘I’m upset because you lied to me’ trope in the superhero genre. I feel like there’s a much better reason to break up with a superhero so here’s my idea. I’ll talk more abt it in the end note.

Anyway enjoy!

AO3 Version

My AO3

Masterlist

Soaring through the air with nothing but a thin string as support, fighting monsters 3 times his size sometimes from a different universe, killing the fucking Prime Minister; none of these things have brought him as much anxiety as he feels in this moment.

It was so late, after 2 in the morning, and he was rushing back to his apartment grunting in pain from his injuries. It’s never fun fighting Kingpin, but hopefully after tonight he won’t have to do that anymore. Kamala had finally discovered his new place of hiding, Osbourne’s old bunker.

No matter how badly his ribs stung with every thwip and pull, he didn’t let up or slow down for a second. You were waiting for him. You’ve been waiting for him since he left at 8. Fuck, it’s been 6 hours? How did he let time fly like that?

‘She’s going to kill me,’ he lightly joked to himself. His stomach turned, he knows deep down that you were getting down to your last straw. You’re always so sweet about his disappearances. He tells you he needs to go; “Being in-charge of a non-profit anti-establishment organization dedicated to the dismantling of our government doesn’t allow you to have much free time, love. I’ll be back,” he would say. Your gorgeous smile would present itself and he just has to give you a kiss before he leaves. That smile has become less bright in recent months.

You’ve started voicing your annoyance as well. “Yeah, so I’ve heard,” you would respond. Or, “Duty calls?” With an eye roll. His least favorite response was, “Why don’t you date the organization instead?” The chuckle you let out after that was so dry and your smile was so empty. It scared him.

There were times where he wasn’t there in the first place. He regrets those the most. He’s missed so many important things, some of which he couldn’t understand how or why you forgave him. He certainly wouldn’t have if he was in your position. You had to be an angel or something. Fuck, he loves you.

Tonight was supposed to be a shut-in date night. Just the two of you, some junk food, and a scary movie that you’ve been dying to see. His watch beeped with a message: got a lead on Fisk. He looked at you and you just…let him go. You didn’t smile, you didn’t frown, you just looked into his eyes and turned away.

“I’ll be right back, I promise.” You didn’t respond, and at that moment, he decided that when he got back there would be no more secrets. No more sneaking around. No more lies. He loved you and you deserved to know.

From what he could see through the window, the lights were off. A part of him is relieved, hoping you weren’t awake so he could just take care of his injuries and slip into bed next to you. He would just have to wait to tell you tomorrow morning.

But, that plan is put to shit when he opens the window and quietly steps inside his living room. The tv is off and the snacks have been cleared. Hobie starts to panic. Did you go home?

He slips off his shoes in case you were sleeping soundly in his room and starts to walk slowly towards it. The door is cracked just a bit and the light is off there too. The entire apartment was shrouded in darkness, the only possible light coming through windows from the moon. He looks through the crack and relaxes upon seeing your silhouette in bed. He lets out a quiet sigh and creeps away to the bathroom.

“Hobie?” He freezes. A few seconds pass and he hears the bed creaking and feet shuffling across the floor. He still doesn’t turn around as his door opens to reveal you in your pajamas, face puffy, and eyes red.

You had been waiting for him to get home for what felt like forever. You were so excited earlier today, but there was this unrelenting churn in your stomach telling you that he would leave eventually. And of course, you were right.

Honestly, you didn’t understand why you were still with him at this point. You know he lies about where he is. You’ve known ever since he invited you to a protest his non profit put together. You told him you wanted to become an official member and he shot it down immediately. “Too dangerous for a peng-thing such as yourself,” he told you. He was right about it being dangerous, everyone was gassed and it hadn’t even been 15 minutes. But that didn’t matter. You wanted to be a part of it. Especially after they got to witness Prime Minister Osbourne’s beheading.

He didn’t even use it as an excuse most of the time. When you would wait for him to meet with you, his reasonings were fickle if he even had any.

“Got caught up with something,”

“One of my mates needed me, you know how that goes,”

“It doesn’t matter, I’m here now aren’t I?”

Oh, and there was your favorite, “Get off my back, will you? I’ve got a life too.” The times where he had nothing to say at all, as painful as it was, were much better. You were so sick of it and you just hoped that he could tell.

Right now, in this moment, you’re not sure because he still hasn’t turned around. You couldn’t see much in the darkness of the hallway, but you at least knew it was him and he was walking away. “You can’t even look at me?”

Hobie stood still, his mind racing. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t want to see the look on your face. He knew you were disappointed. He could hear it in your voice. “…I,” he clears his throat. “I didn’t think you would still be awake.” He cringes.

You blink at him. “You didn’t think I would still be awake?” You repeated vexedly, your voice growing stronger.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Hobie tries to save.

You closed your eyes and took in a sharp breath. “You know…if you’re cheating on me, I’d rather you be honest about it.”

Hobie finally turns around. In the dark, you can’t see his mask, but he can see you perfectly. You looked so dejected and it destroyed him. He could tell that you had been crying before he got here, and now you’re eyes were welling up again. His chest pangs.

“I don’t appreciate you leaving me without a word and coming back whenever you want,” you continue, your voice breaking. A tear slips down your face and you quickly wipe it away only for another to follow right after. “Do you think I’m stupid?” You sob, trying to remain strong as he walks towards you. “That I would just be okay with that shit?”

Hobie still doesn’t answer. Instead, he stands a couple feet away from you right next to the light switch. “Are you not going to answer me?” You growl at him. Still, nothing. “Ho-”

The light turns on. His name halts in your throat as you gaze upon him. Your tears don’t stop and you raise your hand to your mouth, a shaky gasp escaping you. Hobie finally peels his mask off to reveal his cut up face.

For a moment, there’s nothing but silence as you try and process this new information. Hobie was…Spider-man. Your boyfriend was Spider-man. That’s why. That’s why he was never there. That’s why he can never be there. Hobie opens his mouth, the breath he takes being enough to cut through the tension. “I’m sorry.”

He continues to walk towards you, praying that you don’t walk away. You’re frozen in place. “I’m so sorry.” He holds his arms out and embraces you in a tight hug relaxing into your arms when you lift them up and wrap them around his neck. You bury your head into his shoulders making his suit wet from your tears.

Hobie’s lips begin to quiver. He swallows a sob before speaking again. “I didn’t know how to tell you...” His voice cracks while trying to find the right words to say. “I just…I am so sorry for lying to you. I’m so fucking sorry.”

For a while, the both of you just stand there in each other’s presence. There was a feeling of anxiousness in the air; for Hobie, he was worried why you hadn’t said anything. As for you…

“Come on.” You grabbed his hand and walked the both of you to his bathroom where you sat him on the toilet and tended to his facial wounds. You remained completely silent, still trying to gather all of your thoughts. It made him all the more terrified.

Hobie repeatedly geared himself up to speak to you, but ultimately kept his mouth closed. What could he say? It was you who needed to talk. You needed to tell him how worried for him you would be. You needed to tell him how happy you were that he was okay. You needed to tell him how angry you were at him for lying to you.

You needed…you needed…

He needed you to say something. Anything.

But you didn’t know how to tell him. And when you were done with his face he stood up and took your hand to walk the both of you back to his room. You followed at first, but quickly stopped. He looked back at you in confusion, his heart racing. “What is it?”

You let go of his hand with him refusing to do the same. It went limp in his hold as you stared at the ground. Your eyes filled with tears and fell just as quickly. Without looking up, you finally told him what was on your mind. “I…I was going to break up with you tonight.”

His heart dropped. He releases a huff having been completely floored by that charged sentence. What do you mean you were going to break up with him? What do you mean there was no saving the relationship the moment he left? What do you mean he was too late?

His mouth opens and closes, trying to find the words to convey his shock. “Was?” He decides upon, foolishly hopeful.

The breath that you take in, the look on your face, and the tears falling down it killed anything inside him that held onto the possibility that you still wanted to be with him. So he lets go of your hand too. “No.” You say.

Hobie is appalled. His eyes dart around the hallway as his mind tries to make sense of what was happening. His breathing gets harder and faster. He begins to shake his head. “I don’t-,” he stutters, “I-I don’t understand.”

“Hobie-”

“I mean, I…” he hikes his shoulders up and holds up his hands. Finally, he looks at you. His chest aches at the sight of you, he’s never seen you so dejected. He gestures at himself. “You see…you see why.”

You walk towards him and put your hand on his chest to try and calm him down. It does nothing. Instead he holds his own hand over yours to keep it there. “And I am so glad that you trusted me enough to tell me. Your secret is safe with me, Hobie.” After telling him that, you lose any resolve you had and sob. Your voice is strained when you talk, and you have to take small pauses to catch your breath and remain coherent. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you missed my graduation-”

“I was almost eaten alive.” he quickly defends, remembering that annoying day. The Inheritors have become a very big nuisance since Osbourne’s death and are the reason for so many of his disappearances. He would explain all of this to you if you gave him the chance.

You scrunch your face with a look of confusion, but when he doesn’t explain any further, you continue. “And you missed my recital-”

“So I could keep Kraven from fucking up 38th street.” He was starting to get upset. It’s like you weren’t listening to him. He was Spider-man. Of course he couldn’t be there for every facet of your life. And you knew that now. So…what the fuck? “If I hadn’t done that, your mates wouldn’t have anywhere to live.”

You could hear the annoyance in his tone and body language, and it made you a little miffed. “I understand that-“

“Do you?”

You slap your head in frustration. “You’re not getting it, Hobie. You weren’t there-“

“Yeah, I fucking couldn’t be because I’m too busy trying un-fuck our city and everyone in it. Including you.” He says, slightly raising his voice. How dare you get mad at him when you’re the one who’s leaving? “I mean, I’m showing you why I can’t be there and it’s still not enough?”

You never stopped crying, but now you were pissed. You glared at him. “You think that fixes everything? It doesn’t change the fact that I stood outside the auditorium and waited for you right before and right after my name was called for nothing. Or that I almost fucked up my solo because I couldn’t think about anything besides the fact that you weren’t there.”

Hobie raises a finger at you. “I-”

“Stop interrupting me!” You shout, immediately recoiling but keeping your glare. Hobie blinks at you in disbelief. “Knowing that you were off saving the world does not mean I didn’t need you there with me when my sister was-” Choking on your words, you cover your mouth with your hand in a feeble attempt to hide the sob that escaped. Hobie’s anger dissipated and all that was left was utter heartbreak.

You took a second to recollect yourself, shying away from his touch when he reached out to you. He drops his arm by his side. “I don’t understand,” he whispers, his voice breaking.

Taking another deep breath, you drop the ball on him , finally. “If you’re worried I’m going to go off and tell Jonah Jameson-”

“No,” he practically shouts. “I’m not fucking worried about that. I’m upset, because my girlfriend is breaking up with me!”

“Don’t fucking yell at me!”

Hobie slams his hands against his head and walks away from you, panting. All you can do is watch him, anticipating his next move. Bracing yourself for whatever he’ll say out of anger.

After a few moments of breathing, he drops his hands and turns to look at you. “So what you just-don’t love me anymore?”

“What?”

“Is that it? There’s someone else?”

You furrowed your brows and looked around the room wondering where the hell he got that from. “The fuck? No!”

“So why don’t you want to be with me anymore?”

You groaned in frustration and covered your face with your hands. He just wasn’t getting it. “That’s not what I’m saying-”

“The fuck are you saying?” His voice louder than it’s ever been towards you.

“I want to be with you, Hobie,” you tell him, the tears never ending. Your voice, as loud as it is, shakes and cracks. Hobie grabs his hair, his mind completely scattered. You were confusing him left and right. Why can’t you just come out and say-

“I don’t want to be with Spider-Man.”

Everything seems to stop. The only sound being you calming yourself down as you take some deep breaths. You couldn’t look at Hobie, you just couldn’t. As for him, he couldn’t stop looking at you utter disbelief and heartbreak.

His bottom lip quivered as it hung open. His nostrils began to flare. His chest rose and fell as he felt the lump in his throat grow. Why won’t you look at him? Please look at him…please?

“You…I don’t…” he simply can’t find the words to describe how he felt. To put it simply, you were breaking his heart. He loves you. He fucking loves you so much. It hurts that there’s nothing he can do to fix this. He can’t just stop being Spider-Man, no matter how hard he’s considering it at this moment.

He doesn’t know what yo do. He’s so hurt. He’s so…fucking…angry.

“Get out.” He says, looking at the ground.

You jerk your head up at him. Wiping your eyes, you ask him, “What?”

Hobie angrily puts his mask back on. “Get the fuck out,” he repeats, louder this time. You don’t move. You didn’t want it to end like this. Was it really going to end like this? No…

“Ba-Hobie,” Slip of the tongue. But it was too late, he heard it and it broke him even more.

“I don’t want you here when I get back.” He turns away from you and stalks towards the window. Without looking back once, he lifts it open and hops back out into the night.

You slap your hand over your mouth and squeeze your eyes shut. This feeling in your chest, you wanted to lie down and scream at the top of your lungs. You were hoping he understood, that you could reason with him, but now you were left a lonely shell of your former self. You would hate yourself for breaking his heart the way you did. As you gather your things and leave the apartment, you start to wonder, was this even worth it?

On the trek home, you decided; yes. It hurt, but nothing would compare to the pain of him not being there at the hospital when you told him you needed him there. All the moments that you needed the man you loved and he was no where to be found, you found joy in knowing that you would never experience that again.

You weren’t angry with Hobie anymore. You knew why things were the way they were now. But, that’s not a love life that you wanted. That was the most difficult thing you had to do, but you had to do it. You weren’t going to be a superhero’s girlfriend. You just weren’t. You hoped he understood one day.

And he will. But for now, Hobie watches you leave the building with a hole in his heart and hatred in his mind. For now, you just don’t want to make it work with him. Hobie knows the two of you are meant to be, he just wishes you would understand that-

No. He wishes you would accept him. You don’t . And that destroys him.

For now, you simply don’t love him enough to accept him for what he is. A huge part of him was scared of this, and would you look at that, it came true.

He was so confused. So hurt. How could you. How could you?…

ending a/n: Hi! How was it? I hope I wrote it well. I really wanted to make sure it was clear that they both are valid in their feelings about the whole thing. It made sense that it would all blow up and not end well and I think it’s very easy for someone who is dealing with a lot of emotions to not really think rationally or listen to the other person.

If you read this whole thing and was like ‘what is wrong with her’ let me try to explain my thought process. She doesn’t want to be with a superhero. She wants to be in a relationship with someone who can be there for her. Hobie was never there, if he was it was few and far between. And that’s bcs of his obligation to the world and multiverse. That’s no one’s fault. She gets that. So she’s going to find someone who CAN give her the time she needs. Someone who doesn’t have a duty to the world. Someone who can focus on her as much as she does for them.

Of course, Hobie isn’t going to understand that. All he hears is that she doesn’t want to be with him. So, he’s thinking irrationally, not really listening to what she’s saying. Taking things the wrong way bcs he’s heart broken.

I like where I ended it, but I am very open to a pt 2 in the future where they’ve gotten over it (or maybe not 👀) but they’re not going to get back together. It’ll be like closure unless I decide to never let Hobie heal from it. Hmmmm. Idk idk idk!

Anyway, I hope you guys understood my thinking and enjoyed this version of this trope. I don’t think I’ve seen it done before, it would be nice to start a trend of this. I would love to see how other people interpret this. Please feel free to discuss this particular topic more with me if you would like! I don’t bite! Y’all have a good one🩵🩵

AO3 Version

My AO3

Masterlist

#across the spiderverse #hobie brown #spider punk #spider punk x reader #hobie brown x reader #hobie x reader #hobie brown x you #hobie angst #hobie my beloved

[janeyseymour]

Hii

Can you write a Mel x reader where they go to the PECSA and there is only one bed available? They describe themselves as reaaaally good friends until everything changes.

Can you make it with a happy ending? Ty ❤️

I hope this is what you were asking for!

What happens at PECSA...

WC: ~3k

“PECSA,” Melissa grins. “Here we come!” She turns in her seat to glance at you sitting in the back. Barb and her had been kind enough to let you tag along with them.

“Oh, Y/N,” Barb chuckles as she drives. “You have no idea what you just got yourself into tagging along with the two of us.”

“I know what I got myself out of by not going with Janine and Jacob,” you giggle. “I still don’t know how Gregory puts up with the two of them sometimes.”

“Love does weird things to that man,” Barb makes a face. “God, I can’t wait to not have to listen to those lectures and relax in a hot tub instead. I’ve been around a while, I don’t know why I’m still required to go to these things”

“I’m ready for a couple of math-o-ritas, and then I’ll be schmoozing all of the different companies to get them to donate supplies to Abbott,” Melissa cheers from her seat.

You, on the other hand, aren’t quite sure what to expect. The last time you went to PECSA, you mostly just kept to yourself and kept your head down. You were a new teacher, and you figured you should at least look like you were trying. But that was last year. Now, you have Melissa and Barbara to help you out, and if the three of you get caught not participating... you’re sure one of them will get you out of the sticky situation.

It takes you a bit longer to get to your destination, and both senior teachers are all grins once you’re finally there.

“Oh, PECSA,” Melissa sighs in content as she grabs her bags. “How I’ve missed you.”

“Come on, Melissa,” Barbara laughs. “If we want to be able to raid the minibar before the opening dinner, we have to get in there! Now!”

The redhead all but rolls her eyes as she moves out of the way, allowing the kindergarten teacher to grab her various bags.

“Jeez, Barbara,” you laugh as you look at the amount of things she’s packed for a weekend. You have one duffel bag and a backpack filled with everything you could possibly need, and she has... is that really five bags?

“I’m very serious about my nighttime routine, Y/N,” she says lowly. “I don’t look this good by doing nothing, you know.”

“C’mon, you two,” the redhead teases the two of you. “Let’s go check in and get settled in.”

You let Melissa and Barbara check in first before you step up to the counter. 

“Checking in for Y/N,” you say politely.

The clerk clicks around a few times on his computer before giving you a look. “I don’t have a reservation under that name.”

You look baffled. You had booked your room months in advance- you had booked it with Melissa’s guidance because she knew a guy who could get you a good deal. “That’s impossible, you say softly. I booked my room months ago.”

“Did you get a confirmation email?” The concierge asks.

“I did,” you mumble as you pull out your phone, searching for it. You pull it up as proof.

Your coworkers are watching curiously. It hadn’t taken that long for them to check in.

“You think she’s okay?” Melissa leans in close to Barb.

“I’m not sure,” the kindergarten teacher replies. “She looks a little frazzled.”

“I’ll check on ‘er,” the redhead tells her friend. “Watch my stuff.”

“You okay?” Melissa comes up behind you and sets a hand on your shoulder.

You take a shaky breath. “Fine. They just messed up my reservation, so now they’re looking to see where they can put me, and they’re figuring out how much I get back since I won’t be put in as nice of a-”

“They fucked up your reservation?” the redhead cuts you off. “Oh... Vinnie’s gonna get an earful about this one.”

“It’s okay,” you lay a hand on her arm. “It’s fine. It’s all gonna get squared away, and then we can focus on having a good time at PECSA.”

“No, I’m gonna-” Melissa looks like something has triggered her ‘fight-or-fight’ response.

“It’s okay,” you promise her. “It’s all gonna be fine. Things happen, mistakes happen.”

She doesn’t look very happy, but she does take a breath. If you say it’s fine, she’s trusting you. She goes over and tells Barb what’s happening, and they both come and stand at your sides.

Except then the clerk is coming back over to you, and he doesn't look too excited to share whatever news he has with you.

“Miss Y/N, I am so sorry,” he states quietly. “We’re operating at maximum capacity for this weekend due to the conference, and we will not be able to fit you in. We are in the process of providing a full refund to you as we-”

“What the hell?” Melissa asks from behind you. “How’d you goof up that bad?”

“Mel, it’s okay,” you say quietly. “I’ll just find a different hotel to stay in.”

“No, you’re not,” the second grade teacher bites out. “Because you’ll be staying with me in my room.”

“And we expect a full refund for her,” Barbara cuts in. “And some sort of credit. It’s the least you can do for the poor girl.”

“Guys, it’s fine,” you turn red. They’re fighting for you, and the idea of staying with Melissa? Well... you’ve had a thing for her since you first started at Abbott, but it’s never gone anywhere past coworkers. Staying with Melissa could be dangerous territory if you weren’t careful.

“Like hell we’re gonna let you stay somewhere,” the redhead tells you seriously as she picks up your bags. “The plan is to get hammered, and there ain’t no way I’m lettin’ you take an Uber to and from a different hotel.”

“She’ll be accepting an apology in some form of credit,” Barbara hits the concierge with a stern look again before the three of you walk away.

“Maybe I should just go-”

“Go where, kid?” Melissa rolls her eyes. “Barb drove, so you’re stuck here. Might as well make the best of it, yeah? Now, are you gonna share a room with me, or spend your time on one of these nasty ass couches in the lobby?”

“I don’t really have a choice, do I?” you ask.

“Nope,” the redhead pops her ‘p’. “Let's go, hon. If we hurry we can still get a couple of glasses of wine in before tonight’s event.”

The three of you get into the elevator and head for your rooms. 

“I’ll meet you down at the pool in an hour?” Barb asks. At yours and Melissa’s nods, she lets herself into her room next to Melissa’s... and now yours too.

The redhead unlocks your door and gestures for you to go first. You look around. This place is... wow. It’s really nice. Whatever her cousin Vinnie did to get her this nice of a room had to have been pretty big. You set your things on the floor over by the rather uncomfortable looking couch that is taking up space on the other side of the room.

“Oh come on, Y/N,” Melissa chuckles. “You can put your stuff on the bed.”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude,” you mutter nervously, tucking a hair behind your ear and rubbing your collar bone gently.

“You ain’t intruding. I invited you to stay with me for the weekend,” she says pointedly. She glances at where you’ve decided to set your things. “And you’re not sleeping on that ratty ass couch, so don’t even try it.”

“You don’t think this is... weird for us to share a bed?”

“It ain’t weird if you don’t make it weird,” your colleague shrugs as she reaches for her bag. She pulls out a couple of shooters. “Now, are you ready to get PECSA weekend started or what?”

You, Barb, and Melissa end up by the pool an hour later. You had made your appearance, and now you were fully taking advantage of the fact that everybody else was so preoccupied with PECSA events that you had the entire pool room to yourselves.

“Best weekend of the year,” the kindergarten teacher raises her glass. 

“Seriously,” Melissa responds. “Bottomless margs, a heated pool, and a relaxing weekend with two of my favorite people.” While Barb smiles, you blush. You didn’t know you were that high up on her list. You honestly weren’t even sure you were on her good list to begin with, so hearing that you were in ranks with the kindergarten teacher definitely took you by surprise.

“To PECSA,” you say quietly and take off your coverup before reaching for your book. You miss the way that Melissa’s eyes check you out, just like how you had missed it in the hotel room.

You end up falling asleep not much later, a glass of mimosa sitting next to you, and your novel is open and laying on your chest.

Melissa looks over to you. “Wow.” She can’t remember the last time she’s seen you so still- so at peace. You were always running around at Abbott, and even when you were sitting, a part of your body was almost always bouncing up and down. Now, you just look calm. You look... gorgeous. Even with your hair tied up carelessly and no makeup on, Melissa thought you looked absolutely stunning. 

“Poor girl’s been working herself so hard this year,” Barbara tuts. “She’s been exhausted lately.”

That was not what the redhead was referring to, but she’ll play along. “I know,” she laughs nervously. “We’ve barely been here for an hour, and she’s already fallin’ asleep on us. Hope she can keep up with us later tonight.”

“It’s a good thing we were there when the clerk told her there wasn’t any more room,” Barb says, lips turned up. “Otherwise the poor thing would’ve probably Ubered home and not enjoyed this weekend with us.”

“Yeah,” the second grade teacher says noncommittally. She’s still got her eyes on you. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen you looking more beautiful than you do dozing off in the lounge chair. 

“Are you gonna be okay this weekend sharing the place with her?” She knows about Melissa’s little thing for you. She knows how much the redhead cares about you, and she understands how strong the other woman’s feelings are for you.

“I’ve held it together for this long, I can do it for another weekend,” Melissa rolls her eyes. “I have to. I ain’t jeopardizing our friendship.”

“But this weekend you have to share a room,” the kindergarten teacher argues.

“A bed,” Melissa coughs out awkwardly. “We’re sharing a bed. It's totally normal. Friends share beds all the time. I told her I wasn’t going to let her sleep on that ratty ass couch they have in there. But I’ll be... I’ll be fine.”

“You sure about that?” Barbara teases. 

“I’ll be fine. It’ll be fine. Everything will be just... I’ll be fine.”

“Say it one more time, and I’ll believe you,” the older teacher chuckles. 

“I’ll be fine,” Melissa huffs. She takes her eyes off of you to take a sip of her drink. “I just can't get too hammered now.”

That’s what she said. But that was also four hours ago, and five drinks ago. You three are currently down at one of the parties. Barbara is speaking with a few of the handlers from different supply companies, you have had your fair share of drinks and are starting to stumble, and Melissa refuses to leave your side. She glares down pretty much anybody who even thinks about trying to talk to you.

Someone from Addington decides that they don’t give a damn about Melissa’s harsh looks and has to come over to attempt to flirt with you. You’ve made it quite clear you are having no parts of it, but he just won’t leave you alone. Melissa doesn’t like this one bit. She doesn’t intervene just yet though. She knows you are a strong independent woman who can handle this- unless you give her some sort of signal to ask for help.

“I’m really okay,” you slur out. “I don’ wan’ another. Thanks-s though.”

He just keeps trying to get you to drink another one, trying to make conversation with you even though you aren’t interested. He’s ignoring the fact that the redhead is right there with you too. You give Melissa a look that she interprets to be a plea for help. Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t, but that’s how she takes it.

“Hey, asshole,” the second grade teacher finally taps his shoulder. “She said she ain’t interested, so beat it.”

“And who are you?” he looks her over. “Old, washed up-”

“I’d watch it if I were you,” Melissa glares him down. “Now get outta here, before I help you outta here.”

“Who even are you?” the charter teacher asks. 

Melissa, thinking that you are too inebriated to remember this tomorrow, bites the bullet. She wraps her arms around your waist and helps to steady you. “Her girlfriend. Now, seriously: beat it before I beat you.”

“Damn,” he puts his hands up in surrender as he walks away. “The hot ones always turn out to be gay.”

You’re intoxicated, but not because of the copious amount of tequila you’ve had tonight. No, it’s because of a certain coworker's arms being snaked around your waist and holding onto you tightly. 

“I think maybe it’s time for bed,” Melissa tells you gently as she continues to hold you up. You giggle as you lean into her, fully embracing how close you are and loving it.

“You’re- you’re warm,” you tell her. “I like that about you.”

“Well, yeah,” she laughs as she guides you towards where Barbara is sitting. “Hey, Barb. I think this one’s had enough, so I’m gonna take her up to the room and get her to bed, but I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Barb!” You try to launch yourself at the veteran teacher.

“Oh! Y/N!” the kindergarten teacher laughs. She lets you hug her, quietly mouthing, ‘Is she okay?’ to Melissa. At the redhead’s nod, she mouths, ‘Are you okay?’ to which Melissa nods again.

“Alright, sweetheart,” the second grade teacher helps pry you off of Barbara. “I think it’s about time we get up to our room and into bed.”

“Mhmm,” you hum. “As long as- as long as you stay with me.”

“I never said nothin’ ‘bout leaving,” she assures you. “Now c’mon.” 

The two of you somehow manage to get back up to the room, and at this point, Melissa is practically dragging you. She keeps one arm looped around your waist while she tries to open the door for you. It unlocks, and she pushes it open before guiding you to the bed.

“Sleep, hon,” Melissa instructs. 

“Don’ wanna sleep in this,” you gesture to the dress you’re wearing. She can’t necessarily blame you- it doesn’t look terribly comfortable.

“Okay, hon,” she sighs. She opens your duffel, blushing immediately. “Is there anything specific you want in here?”

“My t-shirt,” you mumble, already curled up on your side of the bed. She digs through your duffel bag, only to realize you forgot to pack a night shirt. Thank god she packed an extra. She quickly goes to her side of the bed and finds the spare shirt. 

She throws the shirt at you and instructs you to change, but you’re still struggling after several minutes. With a sigh, Melissa knows she’s going to have to help you change. She wishes she was undressing you, not helping you redress.

Once you’re finally changed, she helps you slip into bed and pulls the blankets up and around you. The teacher moves a few stray hairs away from your face before tracing a gentle line down your cheek with the pad of her thumb.

“Mel,” you whine when she pulls her hand away from your face. “Don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart,” she promises you. “I’m just gonna change for bed myself, and then I’ll be right back, yeah?” You nod, and she walks into the bathroom with her own pajamas.

She takes a long time in the bathroom. You’re struggling to keep your eyes open, but you don’t want to fall asleep without her arms around you- they are safe. Secure. When she comes out, she’s shocked to see that you’re still awake.

“Hey sleepyhead,” she chuckles. “I thought you’d be asleep by now.”

“Waiting for you,” you try, but fail, to stifle a yawn. “C’mon.”

She climbs into bed, and you waste no time wiggling your way into her arms. You tangle

your legs together and force her to hold you as you rest your head on her shoulder.  

“You good, hon?” Melissa asks you gently, just barely daring to press a kiss to your hair.

“Wish we could do this sober,” you mumble, sleep threatening to take you. “But ‘m too nervous to say anything to you when not drunk.”

The redhead is fairly certain she’s hallucinating. Did you just admit you wished you could cuddle with her? Lay in bed with her and fall asleep in her arms?

“Well, sweetheart,” the second grade teacher sighs heavily. “Let’s just get past tonight, see what you remember tomorrow, and then we can talk.”

You nod. You’re still drunk, but you’re pretty aware of everything that is happening, and you know you’ll remember all of this tomorrow. But it’s that extra little bite that liquid courage gives you that allows you to say, “I love you, Mel,” before you tighten your grip on her and give in to sleep. 

Melissa’s eyes widen slightly, but she doesn’t hesitate in saying, “I love you too, Y/N.” She presses a sweet kiss to the side of your head, and prays to God that when the two of you wake up everything is okay.

Next

#abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti

[foldingfittedsheets]

I got Leeloo when she was seven weeks old. The owner lied, or miscounted, and I got her a week too young. She was pretty well adjusted for all that, feisty and fierce as a kitten. I got her right as my ex and I were splitting. She was only a month or two old when we broke up. It was pretty wretched, finals week at college, both of us heart sore, and then we both came down with the mother of all coughs.

He was sleeping on the couch. I offered to share my cough suppressant and he set it on the table. We weren’t used to having a kitten under foot yet.

I was brushing my teeth when I glanced out the door and saw one of the scariest things I’ve ever seen, my beloved kitten on her side seizing, the pill capsule punctured and empty beside her. He burst into panicked tears when I shouted and I practically shook him to get in the car while routing to an emergency vet.

We sat clutching each others hands in the waiting room. Neither of us had known who would get the kitten in the breakup. But sitting there, both of us sobbing, he said it should be me. The doctor told us she had a fifty fifty shot of pulling through. She’d almost asphyxiated, her tongue was blue when we’d gotten her in the door.

After what felt like centuries they came out and said she’d made it. She was going to live.

It was only a few months later that I noticed her not walking around. She barely played anymore. I took her to the vet again and they said she was just constipated and didn’t follow up. Another pestering a week later led to closer examination of her X-rays. Turns out, the asphyxiation had led to a very narrow blood vessel leading to the head of her femur dying. So her bone had snapped off in the joint.

Horrified at the amount of pain she must have been in I got her in for surgery to remove the bone fragment. In a human we’d stop being able to walk, but cats have enough muscle to overcome a simple thing like lacking the ball for their ball and socket joint.

The surgery was a shit show. They called me after putting her under anesthesia and cutting her up open only to realize they were missing a tool. Then they sent her home with an open wound instead of stitches and I had to bring her back yet again to go under and get stapled shut. Then they tried to charge me for all their fuck ups while I was already sobbing over vet bills.

I had a loft bed at the time. Usually she climbed a cat tree to join me in bed at night but after her surgery I made a nest on the ground so I could cuddle with her every night. Her dopey little face looking at me from her cone was worth my back hurting every day.

I felt so bad watching her try to eat with a cone that I hand fed her every meal. To this day she’ll go sit by the food dishes, looking at me longingly to remind me of my little nest on the ground where I’d hand fed her.

That was a decade ago. But she still remembers.

Today I got her new medicine for her horrible cough, fretting about her lungs collapsing. I lovingly rolled each pill and brought them to her an hour early because I couldn’t stand having medicine on hand that I wasn’t giving her.

It was only after she’s happily eaten her pill pockets that I remembered the pills saying to give them with food. So I walked back upstairs and stood beside the cat bed while she ate from my hand again, and when she was done she looked at me with love. Because she doesn’t feel good but I’m still here to hand feed her.

#ramblies #Leeloo #she’s had so much medical bullshit #and this is already going long but I was living paycheck to paycheck when things broke bad #and a friend anonymously donated to pay for her surgery #I found out who it was years later and I’ll never stop being grateful #and I’ll never stop being grateful for that act of generosity #it sucks being poor again fretting over leeloos health again #but at least this time I have a credit score and a savings account #I want the antibiotics to just magically make her feel better instantly #ffs foibles