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gaycentral · 2 months

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Confession

Summary: In the heat of the moment, JJ confesses her love for Spencer despite being married. Spencer has a confession of his own.

@delusionaldeadgirl @yomamacrusty

Warnings: Uhhhh JJ’s kind of a jerk in this (sorry JJ ily but you shouldn’t have done that when you’re married), kinda suggestive for a second there but nothing happens? Spencer gets mean for a second there, Protective Husband Mode (tm) I clearly don’t know how to write relationships please be nice to me.

Things had been…tense, to say the least. JJ still wondered why she’d done it, she was a married woman, she had kids. She loved Will, no doubt about it, but Spencer?

Spencer was different. She’d known him for a decade now, and even after everything he’d gone through, he was still him, even if changed. Brilliant and kind, gentle and warm and unbelievably loving. He had so much love to give, and he held it inside, a tight ball in his chest that seemed ready to burst.

Perhaps that’s why she did it. She wanted some of that love from him. It was foolish, she knew that, it was selfish. It was unfair to Will, to Spencer, to herself. But, much to her own dismay, she didn’t care. She wanted so desperately to hear him say it back, to take her in his arms, to hold her and love her the way she’d always wanted him to, even if it wasn’t realistic.

But she still hoped.

“JJ.” Spencer’s usual soft cadence broke the tense silence of the break room as he stood in the doorway, hands shoved in his pockets, his shoulders hunched and his eyes trained intently on her. JJ felt her heart speed up. Was this it? Was her outlandish fantasy not so outlandish after all? She watched him, absorbed him. His big brown eyes as he gazed at her, the familiar pinch in his brow, his messy curls that always looked so unfairly soft.

Spencer took a few steps forward, but he didn’t get as close as she wanted him to, maintaining a respectful distance, and JJ felt the familiar ache of yearning. Closer, she begged internally. Please.

“Yes?” She finally opted as a response, the glint in her eyes betraying the growing feeling of excitement. She knew Spencer quite well, or she thought she did, and he certainly seemed nervous. Nervous enough for a confession.

“I have something to tell you.” Spencer finally said, one of his hands pulling something she couldn’t see from under his collar, attached to the chain of a necklace, and rubbing his thumb over it in a self-soothing motion. “I should have told you before.”

This was it, JJ thought to herself, her inner voice was almost squealing with excitement. Her breath caught in anticipation, and a smile began to grow on her face.

“I know.” She said, perhaps rather presumptuously, too impatient for him to say it, and she said those oh-so-dangerous words once again. “I love you too.”

The air hung between them for a moment, and when Spencer didn’t say it back, JJ’s smile began to fade. Oh no. Was she too presumptuous? Was Spencer not ready to say it? Had she ruined everything? Oh god, what if he was already in a relationship?

“No.” Spencer shook his head, a frown creasing his features in a way that made JJ’s stomach twist uncomfortably. “JJ, I’m married.”

JJ’s heart stopped. Her worst fear confirmed. No. No…that didn’t make sense, where was the ring? She’d never met his spouse, he’d never spoken of them. Was this a trick? A lie? Surely he was kidding. He��d break out into his infectious smile and say it back, any time now.

“I’ve been married for years. And I love them more than anything.” His hand opened and he showed JJ the wedding ring, noticing her bewilderment. “I wear it around my neck so I don’t lose it. It’s easier to hide from prying eyes that way.”

JJ felt as though she were listening to him speak underwater, her head swimming with confusion, with anger, with grief. No, no, no. This wasn’t fair. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I wanted something for myself.” Spencer’s face was still marred by a frown, and he tucked the ring necklace back under his collar. “You’re not entitled to know about every part of my life.”

It wasn’t fair to him, but this made JJ angrier, and she began to speak before thinking. “Who is it? Some…some stand in for me? I know you felt something for me once! They’re just a replacement because you couldn’t have me!”

To say Spencer was shocked by her outburst was the understatement of the century. The gentleness and patience he often associated with JJ had seemingly vanished, morphing into bitterness, lashing out from embarrassment and jealousy.

JJ looked past Spencer for a moment, and locked eyes with you. You. Of course. How had she been so blind? Of course it was you who had snatched Spencer up, who’d taken his affection for yourself.

You were staring her down, brow furrowed deeply and gaze sharp with a glare. You’d been listening in. Spencer had told you he wanted to deal with this on his own, and you respected his wishes…but that didn’t mean you weren’t weighing the consequences of throwing your stapler at her.

“They’re not a replacement.” That rare, dangerous edge to Spencer’s voice made it’s return, this time directed at JJ, which had never happened before. “I had a crush on you, what, ten years ago? That’s all. That’s it. Nothing more.”

He stepped closer to JJ, brow deeply furrowed and a darkness in his eyes that made her shrink, her insults dying in her throat.

“I’m a patient man, so I’ll only warn you once. Don’t ever talk about them like that again. You don’t want to find out what will happen the next time.”

The mosh frightening part was that his threat could be entirely genuine. Prison had changed him, rage festered in him like a disease, a rage that hadn’t existed before. And he was clever, so very clever, he didn’t need to lay a finger on JJ to hurt her. He never would.

Spencer abruptly left the break room, storming out of the bullpen, and you quickly followed, too worried about him to bother giving JJ one last withering glare. Although it did cross your mind.

It took a bit of searching, but you found him in the men’s bathroom. His hands clutched the counter, his tie loose, his head hung over the sink. You frown, hearing his deep breaths as he tried to calm himself.

You slowly approach before wrapping your arms around his waist from behind, and he meets your gaze in the mirror, his muscles noticeably relaxing beneath your hold, his grip on the counter loosening as lets out a heavy sigh.

He turns in your arms until he can hold you properly, his chin resting atop your head, the two of you gently swaying side to side as you hold each other. His eyes slip closed in a moment of peace, and he dips his head slightly to press a kiss to your forehead.

“So…you threatened JJ for me?” Despite the question, you keep your tone playful, trying to lighten the mood and you hear Spencer groan.

“You heard that?” He mumbled, shame causing his cheeks to burn. He knew he’d stepped over a line, and he regretted it, but a part of him didn’t. A part of him thought it was deserved.

“Yup. And I know I shouldn’t encourage that, but it was very sweet that you stood up for me…and a bit of a turn on. Just so you know.” Not letting go of him, you tilt your head up to meet his eyes, smiling up at him, taking joy in his surprised laugh and the way his eyes crinkled at the corners.

“I suppose I’ll have to keep that in mind.” His tone was warm, affectionate, watching you intently as you straightened his tie for him, the grin fading into a soft smile.

“You know that JJ was wrong, right? None of that stuff she said is true.” He worried that maybe you’d taken her words to heart—or worse, that it was something you truly believed long before today.

“I know.” You smile up at him, hands moving from his tie to rest on his chest, the fabric of his suit jacket smooth beneath your palms. “You gonna be okay?”

“I’ll be alright.” Spencer assured you, but his fingers curled lightly around your wrists, pulling you back into him, placing a soft kiss on your lips before resting his cheek on top of your head. “I’d just like to stay like this for a few more minutes.”

“I can work with that.”

#criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #x reader #i dont know #uh #read it if you want #jennifer jareau

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kneelingshadowsalome · 11 months

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Ok this is very random but how do you think Ghost would deal w an s/o who is still a virgin at a very big girl age 🥴 maybe they’d be seeing each other for a while, and when things heat up and she confesses, how would he deal? Would he be honored and accept being her first or would he reject her altogether bc she is inexperienced?

(Because I’m in my 20s and safe to say on top of everything else in my life except this, I haven’t come across anyone with whom I’d like to be intimate with yet and though I try not to let it get to me, some part of me sometimes feels like a freak or like something is wrong with me)

I hope I did not cross any boundaries or make you uncomfortable by sharing this, if I did I apologize and please feel free to delete this ❤️🕊️

Ghost x FVirgin!Reader Word count: 2,9 k Tags/warnigs: Mild smut, light angst, fluff, comfort, praise & size kink Summary: Reader tells Ghost they’re a virgin while things are about to go down.

A/N: Oh anon!! No boundaries crossed here at all! Your request (or at least I took it as such and got inspired to write a brief oneshot about it) was very sweet. This of course is my HC but Simon would only and only take pride in being your first. He would get a huge ego boost from this and feel absolutely privileged to hear he's worthy of such trust.�� I think he would want to imprint himself in your head as the best man and the best sex partner you will ever have – he would do his all to eradicate even the very thought of wanting to try others after him. Again, an ego thing, but also a desperate wish to please his partner and make them feel safe. This man screams service top to me. I think Simon has a wild side – not mean, just wild, as in he might be into rough sex and certain types of kinky stuff every now and then but only if his partner is willing. He would be very gentle and considerate (passionate as hell though), knowing you're inexperienced, he would make you feel as safe as possible and wait until you were ready and willing to explore things further. Also, I can't help but be moved by what you told me in this message. I understand where you're coming from with these "is there something wrong with me" thoughts, because gosh, I feel you! And speaking from experience… it's 110 % worth it to wait for the right person to come along! Sex can be awesome, mind-blowing, one of the best things – with the right partner. Not worth it with just whomever, imho. Stay safe and trust yourself! And I hope you like this short drabble I made for Ghost x Virgin!Reader ❤️❤️❤️ much love 😘

Simon Riley was a one of a kind man.

He put every guy on every dating app to shame, and not just with his size. He was manly, in a word, even if you never knew you wanted such an overly masculine man. At least, not until you met him.

Simon was not only sturdy and mature – he was armed with calm rage and dark humor. Just one look in his eyes told you he was not the life of the party. Actually, he was Death himself: one of those four horsemen that heralded the Apocalypse.

Perhaps unintelligibly, the same man was also extremely considerate. A true gentleman if there ever was one. He always placed you and your needs first. But underneath the calm, cynical surface you sensed fierce intensity: fire and smoke, something that screamed Danger, high voltage.

And you could not keep away. Quite the opposite, really. The combination of a wildfire and a tornado roaring upon this solid bedrock of a man was simply alluring.

Things had gone a little too far without you meaning them to. You were not a woman of one night stands, actually, you had never had a stand. But Simon changed that, too. Because now you were thinking about sleeping with him.

After years and years of waiting for someone sensible to come along, you had begun to lose hope, especially when people seemed to fuck left and right while you wanted something real.

A bedrock.

With that wildfire. Perhaps a tornado thrown in as well.

After weeks and weeks of flirting, the man asked you out, and after weeks and weeks of going out, you came to the conclusion that if someone deserved to be your first, it was Simon Riley. If there was any guy you wished would take you against a wall until you begged for mercy, it was him. At least in your fantasies, which were starting to get out of hand.

In real life, things were not that breezy.

Because what would he say if – no, when – you told him you were a virgin at this age? What if he would be bothered, what if things would get awkward between you two?

What if he decided you were simply too much trouble than you were worth?

It seemed like a miracle that the guy was still around, having been left blue-balled date after date. Either he was hellbent on conquering you, or then… Well, you didn't even dare to think about or's and then's and what if's. Especially when your own feelings were getting equally out of hand as those fantasies.

He probably had plenty of experience, and the thought certainly didn't make you feel any better. How would you compare, being not only inexperienced but a whole goddamn virgin? And it would probably hurt on top of everything. This man must be pretty damn big downstairs if 6 '4 feet and large hands were any indication.

Still, all fears flew out the window in record time every time he pulled you into a kiss. Your body molded into his already: the broad shoulders closed in around you, and it only felt thrilling. His warmth, his arms and scent enveloped you like the sweetest prison, and you held onto him as tightly as you could. Not because he wasn't clutching you with the same–if not greater–fervor, but because you wanted to make sure he was real.

And you realized what the allure of Simon Riley was.

He felt safe.

In fact, he was safe. He represented safety in all its aspects.

Who would've thought that death and wildfire could feel so good, so reliable?

You wondered if he thought this was some game; that you kept him waiting. The unwritten rule seemed to be that it was ok not to jump into bed on the first date. If anything, it was only a decent move. But what did the rules say about the second, third or fourth date? Not to talk about tenth?

Things were starting to resemble some prudent high school romance. Well, perhaps not prudent, the way you two practically ground against each other while making out after every date. Without being vocal about it or pressuring you in any way, you could tell he wished for things to go further. Hell, every fiber in this man begged for more. He would soon burn your clothes off simply with that searing gaze alone.

Watching the door close on that heated stare after at least 15 minutes of wanton, wicked kissing followed by clumsy Good night's and shy, apologetic smiles just wouldn't do anymore. The poor man was left breathless and puzzled in the cold night with nothing but a hard-on and the crumbs you gave him to keep him warm.

Things were getting ridiculous, criminally so, and you felt pity for those pants trying to keep him in confinement. You felt pity for your own soaked underwear as you climbed to a lonely bed all hot, bothered, and wet.

Which was why this evening would end with you asking him to come inside.

. . .

Lately, his hands have started to roam; they even cup your ass as he moans in your mouth – and hearing that raspy, low sound leave him forces the final decision. It's the final prophecy that tells you he is the one. You should’ve known it was only a matter of time with him.

The man hides his surprise well as you invite him in.

"Thought you'd never ask," he gives you a soft chuckle before stepping over the threshold to not only your apartment but also your life and privacy.

You barely get out of your shoes before his shadow engulfs you and strong hands lift you in his lap like you weigh nothing at all. You instinctively reach for support by clasping your hands behind his neck.

"You really know how to torture a man, don't you?" The brown in his eyes is nearly swallowed by warm darkness as he carries you to the bedroom.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, and he gives a short laugh of gravel.

"Don't be. This has been fun."

He sets you down next to the bed, and your heart is thumping so bad you fear he can hear it banging against your chest.

"But it's about time I torture you, right?"

Oh God…

Things happen so fast that it’s hard to tell who undresses who, but somehow, you find yourself standing in your bedroom with nothing but knickers and a bra on while he's taking off his pants. The man has definitely waited for this to happen for god knows how long, and it only makes your stomach lurch.

He thinks you know what you're doing, your brain offers when it should know when it’s time to shut the hell up. You can see the generous bulge this man is packing, and while perhaps compelling to other women, to you, it mainly looks intimidating. Threatening, almost.

He doesn't take his boxers off, seeing you're just standing there like some statue, still in your underwear and almost shaking from thoughts running rampant.

His form swallows you as he steps closer; wide hands slide up your arms, then draw you against him – against that demanding pulse that gets trapped between you two. Even through the black cloth, you can tell he's thick and big, just like you feared.

The man is blazing, and seems to have grown another foot in height as he towers over you with all that muscle. His shoulders are almost the size of your head, and you already know the hand that runs down your spine is experienced in crushing windpipes. It makes you breathe in shivers, and of course he notices something is wrong.

"Everything good?" He's eager and breathless, the erection pressing against you like a threat. He’s a man who has fashioned a weapon out of himself, so it shouldn't be a surprise that everything in him speaks violence.

"Yes," you try to assure him – a lousy lie only punctuated by the audible gulp that leaves your throat as you try to swallow your nerves back down.

"You afraid…?"

"Just a little nervous," you tell him, a half confession.

"Mm. That makes two of us."

He draws down into a kiss, the hands of a soldier and a killer nearly drawing you up from the ground as he pulls you close. You don't really buy his claim of being nervous too: you can feel how he throbs between you, heavy and impatient.

Hesitantly, you reach to hug him as well, and you feel so small, so insignificant when wrapped around this… giant. The knowledge that you're about to be trapped under all this crushing weight leaves you both faint and needy.

He’s a good kisser, but as he moves to devour your neck, you start to freeze from the middle.

"Alright… Come here."

He half carries, half lays you down on the bed, then crawls between your legs and changes his tactic a little. Gentle kisses are ghosted down your throat, and soon, he's at your breasts, soft as a whisper. But as he draws the fabric of your bra aside, your nipple is caught inside a hot, wet mouth, and the wildfire surges forth. There’s no way out from under him anytime soon, and you realize the colossal body is already spreading your thighs wide.

The way he already looks so damn good there between your legs: big, the epitome of raw, masculine power… It's almost sinful that a man like him is here with a virgin. It's a whole new hell how he's kissing you gently as fuck while blazing like a bonfire about to engulf and devour you. You want to wrap your legs around his middle, attach yourself to him in any way you can, but your thighs are weak pudding.

You feel both lost and found with him. In him.

He sucks and kisses your breasts like they're the only thing he's here for – and it feels good, heavenly, to be honest. But then he starts to travel down.

Shit… You need to tell him – and soon, or else there will be no time to say anything before the last of the shielding fabric is gone.

"Simon…?"

"Mm-hm?"

He doesn't even stop with the kissing, merely hums on your skin as his mouth reaches your stomach.

"You're my first," you finally force the truth into the night; a soft and desperate fact. It's only the faintest breath, but he halts abruptly like he has been stabbed between the ribs.

Great…

Here comes the awkward.

He rises. Softly, slowly, like a shadow, just a second away from getting to what's between your legs.

"Is that so?"

His voice is hoarse and dark from arousal. The whole man is intoxicating, and your heart is hammering in your chest, both from hunger and dread.

"Yes…?"

A broad hand comes to rest on the dip of your waist; gently, like you're some frightened animal about to dart off from under his touch.

"Love… Are you sure you want to do this?"

Are you? You almost ask, then bite your lip.

He just called you love, something he has never done before. You can see your breasts rising with the breaths you try to calm down with sheer willpower.

He lets out a small sigh, then crawls beside you and takes you in his arms. The bed sags and wails under his weight before your body is pulled into a delicious bear hug.

"Sweetheart."

His voice is so smooth, so different from the intense, rough smoke that has followed you up until this point that you feel vehement tears burn your eyes. First love, and now, sweetheart…

"There's no need to rush things," he says while keeping you close. Ever the gentleman, but you fear that you've ruined everything.

"We haven't exactly been rushing," you mutter somewhere in the plates of his chest. You both feel and hear how another sigh travels up his throat and is breathed into the crown of your head.

"Now… listen to me, ok? I've wanted you ever since we met. Can't deny it. But the last thing I want is to force you to do something you don’t wanna do."

You squeeze your eyes shut from what he says. Ever since you met… You can remember the lingering gazes, the way his eyes lit up with something hopeful and pure, how it drove away the exhaustion that seemed to have made a home in this big, brooding man. You remember how he stole a few stares up and down your body, too; remember the hunger he never even tried to conceal – not until now.

He is the most enthralling being you have ever seen, a mystery and a force of nature, an indomitable man, and to say that you haven't thought about him that way ever since too would be a lie.

"But I want it," you look up at him slowly, feeling much safer now that he's holding you like this.

I want you.

You realize you're pouting when the warm look in his eyes gains a playful glint as he laughs softly.

"You want it?"

"Yes."

That little twinkle turns into a downright gleam as he looks at you like you're the most adorable thing he has ever seen.

“You want it with me?”

“Yes.”

"How much do you want it?" The charred voice is so soft now: it washes over you in generous waves. His hands keep you in safe custody – and you're the most willing prisoner there ever has been.

"Pretty badly?" You breathe into the air between you and see the corner of his mouth tug.

"Well, in that case…" His hand sweeps down your back and comes to reside on the swell of your hip. "I'm glad I'm here to help."

Pale eyelashes drop to your lips just before he kisses you again. You arch in his arms, like a flower leaning towards sunlight; your mouth, your whole being unfurls under his leadership. He rolls partly on top of you, then moves to kiss you all over as you lie on your back: he kisses your chin and neck, your collarbones and the hollow little crevice between them. The hand on your hip brushes down your thigh, then back up, up, until his fingers meet the folds already soaked through the fabric of your underwear.

His touch is soft, but gains more weight as he sweeps slowly up, then brushes a thumb over the exact location of your clit.

"Oh–"

He knows what he's found, even without the evidence of your voiceless shake of a breath. He brushes another stroke over it, and it doesn't matter that you still have your undies on – you can feel his weight, the gentle pressure he applies as he draws a circle to usher another soft moan out of you.

"You like that?"

"Mhm," is the only thing you are able to answer.

"That's it…" he cheers you on with calm assurance. "Gonna make you feel good. And that's a promise."

You catch a hint of ego in that promise, but there's something else, too. A fervent devotion, a bottomless need to please you no matter what. The right man, definitely: not someone who is only after their own satisfaction. You don't exactly need the answer anymore, but you ask the final, burning question nonetheless.

"Simon?"

"Speak your mind, love."

"Are you disappointed…?"

He stops again, a breath away from you.

"Disappointed?" He sounds quite shocked, almost appalled. "...Disa–"

He huffs, then reaches to cup your face. You raise your eyes to his and see that he's…ardent, and very, very serious.

"Love, I'm honored."

You can only blink at the solemn vow, and he slowly shakes his head.

"Silly little thing…"

It's something he muses almost to himself before he drags his fingers over your sternum and down your stomach, reverently, like you're a piece of precious porcelain. But the heat in his eyes is back, and your fingers curl to grasp a fistful of sheet as his hand disappears underneath the cloth, when he finally touches you with nothing in between.

You suppose it's his middle finger that sweeps over your clit this time, then slips between your folds without effort. It coaxes your thighs open to give him better access, and access he has: he curls the finger until it almost dips inside. Your lips part with a quiet sigh as your chin climbs toward the ceiling.

"Look at that… All wet and sweet for me already."

The way you expose your neck is like an invitation: he buries his face in your neck, tries to drown in the scent and feel of you while gliding across the wetness down below. He spreads moisture on the tight bud, and you jerk a little from how sensitive it is – he huffs a smile in your ear. It makes you release the sheet and reach out to grasp him by the neck, to make him stay precisely where he is, close like this, so close…

"Do ya even know how bloody sweet you are?"

The last of your wits make a vanishing act as he breathes more praise on your skin. You're languid in his arms, feeling both weightless and heavy, like you're sinking into the mattress, and then his hand moves lower; one thick finger is plunged slowly inside.

Oh God oh God–

You feel him, all of him, filling and spreading you. And it's not enough… not nearly enough.

"We'll take it nice and slow, alright?" He whispers in your ear, and you tighten around him like on command. "Got all night to make a mess of you. That sound good?"

You can't help it: your lips draw into a smile when thinking about all the things he will do to you, all the sweet things you've always waited to happen.

"Yes."

#ghost x you #simon riley x you #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley fluff #simon riley imagine #ghost imagine #ghost fluff #is this too soft?#is there such a thing as too soft #omg I think I'm part of the Ghost babygirl crew now #i accept my fate #also no beta we die like men

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iamnotoriginalphil · 2 months

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She Said What (Melissa Schemmenti x f!Reader)

Synopsis: Seeing Gary get down on one knee shattered you. Tasting Melissa on your lips put you back together again.

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: none

It was like taking a knife to the gut, twisting in your intestines, leaving you gasping for breath. You weren’t meant to be there. Eyes darting around the room, you were desperate for escape. You couldn’t breathe. One step back, then another, you fled down the hall before you could hear the answer.

Gary had asked Melissa to marry him. And you, like an idiot, had fallen completely in love with her.

When it had been nothing but a relationship, kept on the outskirts, it was easier. Avoiding the break room on Tuesdays, not asking about weekend plans or prying to much into her relationship, you could keep your friendship with her devoid of any details. It was easier that way. You couldn’t be plagued of thoughts of the two of them together. If you didn’t think about it, your jealousy couldn’t run rampant, ruining your friendship with her.

Now though…

You’d be seeing the ring on her finger. You might be invited to the wedding. She might change her last name. It would be everywhere, in your face, reminding you how the woman you love was not yours to love. That your chance with her had slipped away.

Career day was a bust and you needed escape and yet you were trapped in your classroom with the kids, praying the clock would speed up and you would have your freedom. Right now, Melissa was somewhere in the building, a new sparkly ring on her finger, joy in her heart, desperate to go home and celebrate with her new fiancé.

You felt sick at the thought.

The bell rung and you thanked the mechanic who had come to speak to your class, shaking his oil stained hand. Sinking down onto your chair, you buried your head in your hands, letting out a long breath. You would have groaned if not for being in a place anyone walking past could hear. All you wanted was to pack up your stuff and go home, curling up in your bed and letting yourself give in to the pressure building behind your eyes.

“You look like you’ve had a day about as good as mine.”

You startled, looking up from the hands your head was resting in. Melissa was walking into your classroom, hands thrust into the pockets of her leather jacket. You blinked, trying to rearrange your face into something celebratory, not the despair you’d been feeling all afternoon. Stretching your lips into a smile, you felt it stiffen as you looked at her.

“Hey,” you said, “congratulations. I saw the feed. It was a beautiful proposal.”

“It was,” she agreed, resting against the edge of one of the student’s desks, much as she had at the front of her classroom when Gary got down on one knee.

“You must be so happy,” you said.

“Not really,” she replied with a small shrug.

“Well, not when you’re here with me but I bet Gary is waiting at home for you to celebrate,” you said, offering her a sheepish smile.

“He better not be. I don’t need another restraining order,” she said.

“Ha, yeah,” you said, “wait, what?”

She quirked an eyebrow up at you. You had no ides what was going on, on the back foot of the conversation so quickly. When her lips quirked up, you lost any words to try and fix whatever situation you’d found yourself in.

“Hon, did you see my answer?” she asked.

“Of course I did,” you replied, laughing uncomfortably.

She sighed, shoulders relaxing, “I said no.”

“What?” That was not what you were expecting.

“I said no. You know I have no interest in being married again. He didn’t listen no matter how many times I told him. We want different things,” she said.

‘So you…?” You didn’t want to assume after your last assumption had gone so badly.

“We broke up,” she said.

“Oh, Mel, I’m so sorry.”

You made your way around your desk, perching beside her. You found her leaning against your shoulder, soft hair brushing against you as you curled an arm around her waist. Her head rested against you, shifting closer.

“It’s better we realised. No resentment, no cheating, no attempted murder. A clean break before anyone could get really hurt,” she said.

“Still, it sucks,” you said.

“Yeah, it does,” she sighed.

“I really am sorry,” you said.

“Really? I always got the impression you didn’t really like him,” she said.

You stiffened. She drew away from you, turning those beautiful green eyes onto you. You tried to stutter out an answer, to refute her claim, to lie right to her face. But there was nothing. No words came out and you were left staring at her, anxiety swooping in your stomach.

“You were never comfortable when I talked about him so I stopped but I always wondered what was wrong with him,” she said.

“Is that why you said no?” Guilt curled in your stomach.

“Of course not. I really don’t want to get married again. Once was enough. I guess I’m just curious what you saw in him,” she said.

“I didn’t really know him,” you said, offering her a non-committal shrug.

“But you didn’t like him,” she said, not bothering to phrase it as a question.

“It was nothing about him. I’m sure he was fine. Nice even. And you loved him. He wasn’t a bad guy as far as I could tell,” you said.

“He’s not. But I thought we were good enough friends that you’d be honest with me,” she said.

Guilt again, washing over you, wave after wave. She was still looking at you, a small lopsided smile both sad and hopeful. You sighed, leaning into her again, not wanting those eyes assessing you anymore.

“It wasn’t about him. I mean sure, I thought you could do better but it was more to do with me. I didn’t want that to get between us and ruin our friendship,” you said.

“Can’t you just tell me what the issue was?” she asked.

“I don’t think that will make you feel better,” you said.

She hopped off the desk, moving to stand in front of you. You swallowed past a lump in your throat, averting your eyes down to your hands clasped between your thighs. With a forefinger, she tilted your chin up until you were looking back in her eyes.

“I can handle it, hon,” she said.

“Mel,” you sighed, not sure how to finish the sentence.

“It can’t be that bad,” she said, “unless he was the man who mugged your nanna.”

“I don’t think he was,” you said, giving her a weak smile.

“So what is it?”

The finger on your chin was practically burning your skin. You took a deep breath, anxiety making your fingertips tingle and your stomach roil. She was still watching you and you couldn’t tell what emotion it was swimming in her eyes.

“I didn’t want to hear about your relationship because… because…” You squeezed your eyes shut, “because I was jealous.”

“Aw, hon, you’ll find your guy one day,” she said, gently nudging you in the shoulder.

That was not the answer you were expecting. You peeked over to her, her smile softened as she looked at you. You shook your head.

“Not of your relationship,” you said, shoulders slumping, not wanting to keep the secret after coming so close to telling her, “of him.”

“What?” she asked, her smile slipping for a moment.

“Mel,” you sighed, “I’ve been half in love with you for a while now. And I’m sorry that it didn’t work out with Gary because I don’t like you hurting. I don’t want you think this is me trying to swoop in the second you’re single. I’m not that unfeeling.”

The smile had completely left her face, eyes widening and the shock evident. You could only stare at her, waiting for some kind of reaction. Mostly you were waiting to be told to get the hell away from her and never speak to her again. Her hands landed on your knees, fingers digging in as she gripped you hard.

“Hon,” she said, voice catching and you squeezed your eyes closed again, waiting for the slap, “can you look at me?”

You opened your eyes again. She was peering into your face, eyes swimming with an emotion you couldn’t name. Her lips were quirked at the corners, just enough for your heart to begin beating double time. Hands slid further up your legs as she lent towards you. You didn’t know what was going on and you were scared to move. Frozen under her touch, all you could do was stare back at her.

“I wish I’d known. I wish you’d told me,” she said.

“Would it have made a difference?” you asked.

“Of course, hon. If I’d known…” She shook her head.

“It’s fine. I won’t make it weird. We can still be friends. It’ll be like you never knew,” you said, panic beginning to set in. You were desperate not to lose her in all of this. This was like your worst nightmare coming to life before your very eyes.

“I didn’t just break up with Gary because he wanted to get married,” she said, interrupting you before you could continue rambling your reassurances, “there was a part of me that knew I had feelings for you. He couldn’t be my miracle when there was someone else.”

“What?” You couldn’t comprehend what she was saying.

“I wish you’d said something earlier, hon. If I’d known then Gary and I would have never gotten to this point,” she said. Her hands were still moving further up your legs until they were holding your hips.

“I don’t understand,” you said.

“Hon, I’m saying I have feelings for you too,” she said, a smile breaking over her face, bright and heartbreaking and everything you’d wanted to see for so long, “I know this probably isn’t the right time to say it but you’re hot and I like you.”

“You just broke up with Gary,” you said.

“I did. Doesn’t change how I feel about you,” she said, shrugging.

“This is an emotional rollercoaster.” Your lips stretched into a smile, small and soft and the way she seemed to melt at the sight of it only had you reeling again, “isn’t this too soon?”

“Yeah, probably, so we’ll take it slow,” she said.

“Slow?”

“Look, I dunno how this is gonna go but I do know that I like you enough that I want to give this a go. I’ve been single for a few hours and I’m probably going to have to deal with stuff from ending my relationship with Gary so we’ll take it slow and figure it out together. Sound good?”

You thought about it, turning it over in your mind. You’d thought, in your wildest dreams, that if you were offered the chance to be with Melissa you’d grab it with both hands but coming right off the back of her break up it felt… tenuous. But giving it a chance might be the best thing you could do, if only to not have to think about the what if on your death bed.

“Slow sounds good,” you said.

She relaxed, as if she’d been bracing herself for rejection. The smile on her face grew more sure of itself, more playful as she lent in. You shivered when her breath hit your skin, and you looked up into sparkling green eyes. You felt your cheeks heat up under her gaze and blinked, trying to take in her beauty. Trapping your bottom lip between your teeth, you worried at it, breath frozen, watching her with wide eyes and racing heart.

“Must say, hon, you’re pretty cute when you’re nervous,” she said.

“Nervous?” you managed to squeak out, “I’m not nervous.”

“No?” she asked, drawing closer again, lips brushing the shell of your ear as she whispered, “are you sure?”

“Mel,” came out as a strangled noise, “this doesn’t feel slow.”

“Feels like I’m moving pretty slowly to me,” she replied, lips slow to press to your cheek.

A small noise came from your parted lips. She chuckled, drawing back far enough for you to see the way her eyes were smouldering as they focused in on your lips. You found yourself leaning toward her, drawn into her orbit, the gravity of her dragging you closer.

“I suppose one kiss isn’t so fast,” you murmured.

“I’m glad you agree,” she said.

Her lips pressed to yours, muffling a gasp. Arms wound around her neck, fingers burying themselves in red curls. Her fingers dug into your hips, hauling you closer until you were on the edge of the desk, her body caught between your thighs. Her tongue ran along your lower lip, teeth nipping when you moaned into her mouth.

If this was slow, you could get on board with it.

She drew back, making you whimper, fingers tightening on her hair. She placed one last chaste kiss to your lips before disentangling your fingers. The step she took back made you feel bereft before you reminded yourself that today wasn’t about you. You couldn’t imagine the emotional rollercoaster she’d been on that day. Your’s had been bad enough.

“Can we renegotiate this going slow thing?” she asked.

“No,” you laughed, no matter how much you wished you could, “we should go slow. I mean, what are your plans tonight?”

“Drinking wine until I don’t feel embarrassed that I turned down a proposal in front of Jalen Hurts,” she replied.

“Exactly,” you said, giving her an indulgent smile even as your heart raced.

She chuckled, shoving her hands into her jacket pockets, taking another step back from you. Your teeth sunk into your lip, swollen from her kisses, as you considered her.

“You might be onto something,” she said.

“But maybe, when the embarrassment has dimmed a bit, we can go out,” you said.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” she said.

“Great, well…” A smile was taking over your face, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I suppose you will,” she said.

Watching her back out of the room, all you wanted to do was reach out and pull her back to you. She paused in the doorway before she strode back to you, both hands cupping your cheeks and kissing you so thoroughly you lost any train of thought you might have been having. Nodding to herself, she turned her back on you, striding out. You watched her, dumbstruck, wondering how you’d somehow managed to get so lucky.

From the absolute travesty of seeing Gary propose to her to ending with the promise of a date and the taste of her still on your lips. You had no idea how you’d gotten so lucky.

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti imagine

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yanderismo · 3 months

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Yandere Platonic Superman Concept/Idea (?)

BRO, BRO, I DON'T KNOW IF I LOVE OR HATE MY MIND FOR GIVING ME IDEAS THAT I'LL NEVER START OR FINISH. But okay, I have an idea for a platonic yandere Superfam, maybe it involves Batfam or the entire DC universe. I think this is more platonic yandere Superman. Let's go. (using the translator, be kind to me please 😭)

— Imagine that you are originally from the Injustice universe. You were a neutral young/teen heroine who wasn't at all interested in siding with Batman or Superman. Well... that neutrality of yours had consequences, and now, somehow, Superman and Batman were in a bloody tug of war to get you on their side. And you are the cable they are selfishly pulling. And one day that cable would break, and that's what happened to you, you broke it. So broken that I would consider it irreparable.

— But luckily for you (bro, are you lucky?), after so much physical and mental suffering, you ended up in a way that I won't explain, in the original DC universe. In other words, no superheroes is crazy tyrants. Too bad you don't know that (yet).

— You were living as if the world was a danger to you (just like it was in Injustice). But you discovered that you were REALLY in a different universe or timeline when you met Lois Lane, the woman who drove Superman insane after her death. And it shocked you, you thought maybe you had gone back in time. And as reckless as it was, you felt hope that you could stop the future of Injustice from happening, stop Lois Lane from being murdered! After all, you were still a hero, even if you had probably lost half of your original universe's neurons.

— So you made a decision. You decided to protect Lois Lane! You practically become her protective shadow. Being noticed wouldn't do any good, and for SO FEAR of being confronted by Superman/Clark for apparently stalking his wife, you stopped watching her when Clark showed up and you went back when Clark left. (In your head, this Superman is the same Superman from Injustice, just before Lois' death happened). You were wary as hell of all the heroes. Anyway, a lot of trauma caused by Injustice.

— And I believe that Lois, even if she was a civilian, would notice that she was being watched (or maybe you're just not very good at stalking because you're a very young heroine). Whatever it is. Lois noticed and she became cautious (she is a journalist, there are many people who may not like her to the point of committing atrocities), as you could be a threat to her life. Although you haven't revealed yourself as any threat so far.

— But let's suppose there were events in which she was in danger (actually, it was just something like shelves falling, preventing her from being run over, preventing some rabid dogs from biting her, small things), events in which you managed to remain hidden, however Lois knew it was You, her strangely protective stalker. Lois was trying to know your intentions and work it out for herself, so she didn't say anything about it. If this is something much more than she can handle, Clark can always lend a little help.

— But on another one of those times when she was in danger, you desperately saved her (the situation was quite dangerous, more than normal), asking if she was okay and everything. Lois was surprised, you were surprised. Before you know, the idea of staying in the shadows went down the drain. You were almost begging (you were begging) her not to tell anyone that you were persecuting her (protecting her), you didn't want her to report you to some authority (that would only hinder your mission) or worse, report you to Superman. You said, stammered, that you were just protecting her. Wanting to make sure Lois didn't feel threatened and report you.

— The desperation, the panic in your voice, seemed too young for Lois to feel comfortable. You were like a scared child, you looked very much like just a scared child, and that made Lois uncomfortable but at the same time... motherly. If you wanted to hurt her, you would have done it already. You at least accomplished one thing: making Lois not feel threatened by you.

— The other thing you couldn't do was stop Lois from telling Clark about you. Look, I'm sure Lois didn't mean it, it's uncomfortable to be watched almost every day, but also, since she discovered you, she's been quite worried about you.

— And Clark is all worried, like, "What?? My wife is being stalked??? Oh wait, my wife is being stalked and protected. Well, that's still very worrying, I'm definitely going to check it out for myself." Furthermore, Lois insisted that he be gentle when approaching you. And Lois saying this to him made him even more intrigued.

— He tried to approach you just as Clark Kent, just to know how you would react around a seemingly civilian person, think of it as a method to read your character (he didn't want to confront you as Superman in a careless way. After all, who wouldn't Does he act nice or change to a more pleasant personality around Superman?)

— Needless to say, Clark was surprised and confused when you looked at him like he was the greatest terror of your life before simply running away from him. He recognized that look, only villains who were traumatized after a confrontation against him have that look (but the you look was much, much worse than that). That day, you didn't chase Lois.

— Clark suspected you knew his secret identity. There is no longer any reason for you to have reacted like this.

— lol, that day Lois noticed the absence of the feeling of being watched and scolded Clark for scaring you. Although it wasn't his fault, he apologized. He really didn't mean to scare you ;( You were gone for a few days after that. But of course, you still had to protect Lois in her everyday life. Even if you were scared.

— Anyway, it didn't matter how softly, friendly Superman approached you next time. You ran, or at least tried to run. Do you really want to bet on who is the fastest? He easily caught you and held you by your forearm. And that was enough to make you scream, cry, struggle and finally, shrink as much as possible.

— And Superman was all confused, he wasn't even hurting you or squeezing you hard. His voice was also friendly. If anything, it made him even more worried. Add the fact that you appear to be very young and his paternal instincts kicked in.

— To his surprise, you pulled out a knife. Something like that couldn't hurt Superman, of course not. But who said the knife was meant to hurt him? Let's say you picked up the knife and tried to slit your own throat as a last resort escape. (What did you go through with Superman from Injustice to the point that you tried to commit suicide just to escape him?)

— Superman was surprised and then horrified. He immediately knocked you unconscious before you cut deeper into your throat. Now with you unconscious, you seemed more vulnerable and fragile than you should have been. Now he understood why Lois was worried about you. (You know, if Batman can adopt multiple children, why couldn't Superman...? You seem like a good kid and even Lois agrees with that. Conner and Jon would definitely like to have a sister)

— Superman wondered what happened to you that made you reach the point where death was a usable route. He wanted to question you personally, but the moment he confirmed that you knew his identity (you acted the same way when he approached you as a civilian. He was the only one to receive this reaction from you and no one else), this matter became the subject of the Justice League. Discovering the identity of a superhero and pursuing someone close to that superhero was not going to be taken lightly. Who's to say you don't also know the identities of others? Although Superman wants to deal with you alone, he doubts he'll get any information out of you with you yelling and screaming. So he took you to the justice league.

— Batman can definitely help you solve this.

(Imagine the anguish it would be to probably have to get used to people having the same appearance and the same voice as your captors in Injustice. Imagine them acting all soft after finding out you come from a universe where the heroes are corrupt and broke you😩)

Notas: I leave the rest to you. Or to any author who wants to use this idea (I beg you, some author write a Yandere platonic Superman/Superfam fic😭 They could even add other platonic Yanderes like Batfam, it would be so interesting 🙏😭)

(I just realized that the one who acted the most Yandere was Reader herself, lol)

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libraryofgage · 4 months

Text

A Hop, a Skip, and a TARDIS Jump

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two (on the way!) Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One (you're here!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz)

I know it says 10Rose up there, but this series starts with 9Rose, because 9 is also special blorbo in my heart hfjdks Christopher Eccleston didn't have to put his whole chest into the role but he did and I love that for him

Anyway, have fun with this one! We're getting time travel shenanigans coming up (and angst, def some angst, but it'll end sweet I promise), and a little meme at the end

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't :)

Satellite Five 200,000

Running into the woman was an accident created by the chaos of something changing on Satellite Five. Steve doesn't know what that is, exactly, but he can feel it in the air, in the way the humans around him have started rushing, in how the food stands have suddenly ground to a halt. And he comes to a halt with them, his hearts speeding up in his chest as the frenzy reminds him of another time, another planet, another chaotic scene that ended with him being launched across time and space while his home died.

When he finally gathers his wits enough to move, he turns right into a woman's leg, bumping his nose hard against her and falling to the ground with a startled cry. He holds his nose, the bridge smarting and causing his eyes to water as he looks up at a pretty young blonde woman who immediately crouches in front of him.

"Sorry about that. You all right?" she asks, her hands hovering in the air like she wants to check him for injuries but doesn't want to make him uncomfortable.

The funny thing is, Steve has seen this woman before. He saw her earlier in the day, getting into the elevator with a journalist and a man, and he assumed he'd never see her again. Nobody who got in the elevator came back. He's so overwhelmed by the shock of seeing her again that he almost misses the familiar aura around her, the lingering traces of golden space dust and passing time.

Almost.

He stares at her with wide eyes, his tears actually falling now, and then throws himself into her arms. "What took so long?!" he cries, clinging to her shirt like he'll be thrown across time and space one more time if he lets go.

"Woah, hey now, no need for crying," she says, utterly confused but gently smoothing down his hair anyway. "What's wrong?"

After taking a few moments to calm down, Steve starts to answer when he realizes something. The woman only has one heart. He can only hear one set of beats in her chest. He jerks away, his hands trembling as he stares at her. She's still covered in that familiar aura, practically swimming in it, but she's not like him.

It hurts. Steve can feel the bitter cold of disappointment replacing the hope that had started to grow between his hearts. He thought...he thought he'd get to be with someone like him again. Maybe not his original family---they're dead, long gone, and Steve is never getting them back---but a new one that wouldn't let him feel quite so alone anymore.

Maybe she was just injured. That would explain it well enough.

"Where....where's your second heart?" he asks, his voice small as he grips the hem of his shirt to steady himself. "Y-you...why do you--"

Before Steve can get the rest of the question, a man in a leather jacket, looking slightly annoyed as he checks his pockets, appears next to the woman. "Right then. C'mon, Rose, we got dead weight to drop off," he says, his tone hard.

The woman, Rose, looks up at him. "Hold on a minute, Doctor," she says, "we've got to help him find his parents first."

Steve opens his mouth, wanting to say that won't be possible, as he looks up at the man. Their eyes meet, and the words get stuck in his throat. If Rose carried lingering space dust and passing time, this man is made of it. Steve can see the gold around him, swirling and calling, singing in a way he'd forgotten about. Even the name is familiar---not that Steve knows this particular Time Lord, of course, but he knows the conventions and traditions.

"I'm afraid that'll be impossible, Rose," the Doctor says, his voice softer and full of disbelief as he crouches next to her on the ground.

"What? How do you know?"

The Doctor doesn't answer her. He just holds a hand out to Steve, waiting patiently. When Steve takes it, the world finally rights itself. He can feel the blood pumping through the Doctor's veins, fast and powerful in a way only two hearts can manage. He can practically taste time and space coating his tongue as he steps closer. When Steve places his hand on the left side of the man's chest, feeling the beating of one heart before sliding his hand over to feel the other, he cries even harder than before.

And the Doctor cries, too.

It's not a loud crying, but he pulls Steve into his arms and holds him with the same desperation and fear that he'll disappear if he loosens his grip that Steve felt when he hugged Rose. "I thought...I thought I was the only one left," the Doctor says, moving his hand to cradle the back of Steve's head.

"Doctor, what's going on here?" Rose asks.

Steve peeks out at her, and then he's lifted into the air, still held in the Doctor's arms. His jacket smells like the past and future, a soothing scent that gets Steve to relax like he hasn't in a long time. "Long story short," the Doctor says, his voice still rough from crying but recovering, "you somehow bumped into the only Time Lord child in existence." A few moments pass before he speaks again, the smile and awe clear in his voice as he says, "You're just fantastic, Rose. Fantastic."

Despite his best efforts, Steve can't keep his eyes open long enough to see how she reacts or what the Doctor does next. The exhaustion of fending for himself and pushing away the despair of losing everything sweeps over him. This could all be a dream, and the Doctor might be a figment of his imagination that disappears when he wakes up, but Steve lets himself dream for now.

--------

Hawkins, Indiana, 1971

"Okay, Steve, go ahead."

Steve glances up at his father, shifts his gaze to his mother, and then approaches the console. He reaches up and starts turning a dial, ignoring his mother's excited noise and his father's interested hum. Once he's turned it enough, he walks around the console and pulls a lever, flips a switch, and yanks another dial two notches to the right. Then, when he's sure his parents can't hear him, he leans in close and whispers, "Take me wherever you'd like me to be, TARDIS."

He feels something warm and happy surge under his fingers where he's holding the console. Not a second later, the familiar whooshing sound of the TARDIS fills the room, and Steve hang on for dear life as his father shouts, "Fantastic! Where do you think we'll land, Rose?"

"Somewhere child-friendly, hopefully," his mother replies, grabbing his father's arm and holding on for dear life.

Steve grins, his hearts beating fast and hard behind his ribs as the TARDIS slowly comes to a stop, its engine quieting to a gentle whirring as it parks. "Go on then," his father says, appearing behind Steve and nudging him to the doors. "See where you've brought us."

With his breath stuck in his throat, Steve slowly pulls the left door open. Sunlight streams into the TARDIS along with the delighted shrieks of other children and a warm wind that can only mean summer. Steve blinks, staring at the playground a few feet away.

"Oh," his father says, his tone duller than before, "seems boring."

This statement is followed by both the TARDIS making an offended noise and Steve's mother smacking his father in the chest. "Don't be rude! Boring is safe, which is good for Steve's first drive."

"Can...can I go play?" Steve asks, his voice soft as he feels a sudden longing sweeping through him. He hasn't played with people his age after leaving Gallifrey. In fact, he hasn't been around them. On Satellite Five, Steve didn't see other children. They were cared for on a different floor, and he never risked getting into the elevator.

Since leaving Satellite Five (since finding another Time Lord and basking in the TARDIS and crying together when Steve accidentally called the Doctor "Dad" and Rose "Mom"), Steve has been surrounded by Daleks and nanogenes and older humans and every alien under the sun, but he's never been around children.

The thought is exhilarating and terrifying and alluring all at once.

"Of course, Steve," his mother says, placing her hand on his head and brushing a few stray hairs from his face. "You go play, and we'll call you back in a few hours for some ice cream, yeah?"

Steve grins and nods eagerly, throwing a quick goodbye to his parents before running out of the TARDIS. He dashes across the street, coming to the edge of the playground before stopping. The grass turns into tiny rocks and pebbles beneath slides and swings and monkey bars and a merry-go-round. And kids. More kids than Steve really knows what to do with, which gives him an unfamiliar feeling of anxiety that makes him wipe his palms on his shirt.

"Hey, why are you just standing there?"

The question is asked by another boy Steve's age. His hair is a little frizzy and curls around his ears, and he's got band-aids covering his arms and stretching across the bridge of his nose. He's standing to Steve's left, holding a red rubber ball and ignoring the other kids around them.

"I've...never been here before," Steve says, meaning that he's never been in this situation.

The boy doesn't understand that, though. But when he says, "Oh, so you're new around here," Steve doesn't disagree. "Well, nice to meetcha. I'm Eddie."

He shifts to hold the ball against his chest with one arm and holds out his other hand. Taking it and shaking once, Steve introduces himself and asks, "Can we be friends?"

Eddie's eyes brighten, and he nods. "Yeah! Let's be bestest friends. Can I call you Stevie? Mom says you can give nicknames to friends."

"Sure! So, uh, what do we do now?"

Eddie pauses, looking at the playground with a slight frown. "We could play games," he says slowly.

"Oh! How about Weeping Angel?"

"What's that?"

Steve thinks for a moment. "Weeping Angels are these statues that move when you don't look at them. In the game, someone will face away, and the other person will start sneaking up on them. If the first person turns, the second has to freeze in place. If the first person sees them move, they lose. If the second person reaches the first and touches them, they win."

"It sounds like Rad Light, Green Light," Eddie says, tilting his head slightly. "But, sure! Let's play it."

Steve smiles brightly and follows Eddie to a clear patch of playground. "I'll be the Angel in this round," he offers, waiting for Eddie to agree before walking a few feet away. "Let me know when you're ready!"

Eddie turns around, still holding the rubber ball, and glances over his shoulder. He stares at Steve for a few seconds before looking away and saying, "Ready!"

As lightly as he can, Steve takes a few steps forward, doing his best to make no sounds like the Weeping Angels he's seen before. When he notices Eddie moving, he freezes, quickly placing his hands over his eyes but leaving enough room to peek between his fingers.

When Eddie turns, he's frozen in a classic Weeping Angel pose. Eddie studies him for a few seconds, eyes narrowed before slowly turning around again. Steve exhales softly, and the game continues.

Steve wins exactly three times, Eddie wins twice, and there's one round in which they both dissolve into laughter because of the position Steve freezes in, so they don't count it. When Eddie gets bored of playing, he introduces Steve to foursquare, which is why he has the rubber ball. When he gets bored of that he drags Steve around the playground, introducing him to each piece of equipment with pride.

By the time the sun has started to dip low on the horizon, Steve is sweaty and dirty and happier than he's ever felt as he hides under the slide with Eddie. They're pressed close together, sharing a popsicle Eddie's mother had given them, purple juice making their hands sticky.

"You're really cool, Stevie," Eddie suddenly says, his lips and tongue purple as he offers the last bit of popsicle to Steve.

After taking it and letting the cold ice melt on his tongue, Steve asks, "Hey, do bestest friends keep secrets that only they know?"

"Of course! Nothing is stronger than a bestest friend secret."

"But you gotta promise not to tell anyone. Not even your mom."

Eddie seems to realize this is serious now, and he straightens up a bit. "I won't," he promises, "cross my heart, hope to die, stick a needle in my eye."

That seems a bit extreme to Steve, but what does he know of human customs? He leans in close, his mouth almost pressing against Eddie's ear, and whispers, "I'm an alien."

He pulls away in time to see Eddie's disbelieving look. "What? You look human. No way you're an alien."

"I am!" Steve says. "How many hearts have you got?"

"One. Duh."

"I've got two."

Eddie snorts. "Yeah. Right. Nobody has two hearts."

"Here, you can feel them," Steve says before grabbing Eddie's hand and placing it over the left side of his chest. He waits a few seconds, making sure Eddie can feel that heart, before sliding his hand to the right side. He watches Eddie's face turn bright red, and Steve figures it's from excitement or shock at realizing Steve is, in fact, an alien.

Before Eddie can say anything, Steve hears his mother calling, "Steve! It's time to go!"

He pouts, letting go of Eddie's hand. "Aw, man," he mumbles, crawling out from beneath the slide. Eddie scrambles after him, his cheeks still flushed and his eyes wide. "I gotta go now, but I'll see you again soon, Eddie."

"Yeah, soon," Eddie mumbles, seeming dazed until he shakes his head. "Your, um, secret is safe with me, Stevie."

Steve blinks and flashes a blinding smile. "Of course it is," he says, "You're my bestest friend."

With that, he hugs Eddie and then runs to his mother, brimming with excitement at getting to tell her all about the park and Eddie.

------

If you'd like to be tagged for this series, let me know!

And, finally, a meme for your viewing pleasure:

#steddie #steddie fic #doctor who #doctor who crossover #steddie over time #that's the tag for this one bois #i'm very proud of the little pun there actually #steve harrington #eddie munson #ninth doctor #rose tyler #time lord steve harrington #ninerose #anyway thanks for reading i hope you enjoyed the meme hfdusjk

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weemssapphic · 6 months

Note

Good evening, my internet-lawfully wedded wife. I would like to request that Hanahaki Phasma story please? 🥺🥺🥺

Hello 💖 Thanks for the request, lovely 🥺 I finally had an idea for how to write this and I am very happy with how it turned out - and nervous as I've never written for Phasma before. I hope you like it, regardless of the angst 🥺 Thank you to @dianneking for beta-ing and helping me with the title, it means a lot 🫶🏼

Forget-me-not

Captain Phasma x f!reader

Summary: Of all the people you could’ve fallen in love with, it had to be Captain Phasma. Could your love for her be your death sentence?

Words: ~3.1k | ao3 link in title

Content/warnings: Hanahaki disease trope, angst, no happy ending, mentions of blood + death, character death, briefly nsfw (light smut - minors DNI)

Icy blue eyes stare deeply into your own, pale pink lips are curled up into a devilish, seductive smirk. Phasma’s face is flushed and her pupils are dilated as she watches you come undone above her, bucking your hips against her and coating her abdomen in your arousal as you chase your high.

You’ve had sex with Phasma a handful of times now, which is strange in and of itself. You’ve heard plenty of stories about her since starting with the First Order – stories of one-night stands, lovers being used, abused, and discarded – threatened into silence, fired, even disappearing.

It would be dangerous to assume that you’re special – that you somehow mean more to Phasma than the other women she’s slept with. No one means anything to Phasma, that is one thing she has made abundantly clear. Phasma is the only person who means anything to Phasma. Everyone else is disposable, a means to an end – in this case, the end being her own sexual pleasure.

But then why has she let you into her bed time and time again? At first, she was demanding and dominating, relentless; taking, taking, taking. You cried during your first time with her – you were so overstimulated, yet she wouldn’t let up, and she punished you any time you tried to touch her. After that, you feared you’d be discarded like the rest – but then it happened again. And again. And then, one night, Phasma even allowed you to touch her. Watching the Captain Phasma reach the height of her pleasure on your fingers was something akin to a religious experience – you were ready to worship the woman, to give your soul over to her after hearing her moan and feeling her body shudder against your own. She’d taken her helmet off for the first time that night as well – you were immediately struck by her beauty. The planes of her face had a softness to them that had thrown you off-guard, her eyes – blue, oh so blue, oceans you could drown in – felt hypnotizing as they pierced your own. She’d been reluctant at first, but somehow – somehow – you’d managed to convince her – it must get quite hot and uncomfortable under that helmet after all. After the threat of torture methods that you hadn’t even heard of, ensuring you would never so much as think of telling a soul about seeing the great Captain without her helmet, she’d revealed her face to you.

And now, looking down at that charismatic, captivating smirk through the lustful haze of your fourth orgasm, you know you’ve gone and made the most fatal error you could possibly make.

You’ve fallen in love with Captain Phasma.

~~~

And what a fatal error, indeed.

After your latest rendezvous in Phasma’s quarters, you see her next at training the following morning. The bright fluorescent lights bounce off the chrome of her armor, flawlessly polished – though your mind is rather stuck on what lies underneath. Silken blonde locks, slicked back to emphasize her cheekbones, the curve of her jaw. Long, muscular arms and large, slender hands; rock-hard abs and legs that seem to go on for miles, with thick thighs that you can’t help but picture wrapping around your head. After seeing the fearsome Captain outside of her armor, you fear you can never unsee it – and you’ll always be left wanting, yearning for more.

Perhaps there would be a way to convince her that you’re worth more than a quick fuck – you can’t stop thinking about those strong arms wrapping around your waist in your post-coital haze, fingertips tenderly caressing your bare flesh as soft lips press chaste kisses all over your face. You would look into her eyes – which would fill with affection – and tell her you love her, and she would say it back with a smile on her face.

Cough.

You’re caught by surprise at the sound that bubbles forth from your chest, tickling your throat.

“FN-196, is something the matter?”

Phasma’s voice is cool and collected – dangerous. You shouldn’t have made a peep – but you can’t help it. Another cough tickles the back of your throat and forces its way out – you try to stifle it but that just makes the coughing fit worse.

“N-no-“ cough “I’m sorry-” cough “It w-wo-“ cough “It won’t happen again, Captain.”

You clear your throat awkwardly and straighten your back as Phasma stalks towards you, stopping right in front of you. She’s inches away from your face, though she’s tall enough that you’d have to crane your head back just a bit to look up at her. You don’t – you think she might kill you if you do, so you look straight ahead at your reflection in her armor.

She looks down at you for a moment, her head tilted ever so slightly – you wish you knew what she was thinking. Does she really hold any shred of affection for you, does she favor you at all? Or is she plotting the quickest way to dispose of you?

“One more sound and I’ll have you scrubbing TIE fighters all weekend.”

Merciful.

You nod curtly. “Yes, Captain.” You don’t dare say anything else.

~~~

After your little coughing fit, you briefly worry that you’ve caught a cold. You seem to be in the clear, however – you don’t cough again after that, not for a few days.

But then it happens again, as you’re walking past Phasma in the corridor. One moment you’re fine, the next you look up and see her walking towards you. You come to a halt and step aside to allow her to pass, a sign of respect. She affords you the smallest of nods – an acknowledgement that makes you swoon – and that’s when it happens. You cough, more violently this time, as though your lungs have run out of air and are shriveling up as a result.

Phasma stops in her tracks and turns towards you, staring. Waiting for the coughing to stop. It does, eventually, and you feel your cheeks burn. You know she can’t see it underneath your helmet, but you’re certain she can sense your embarrassment in the way your shoulders droop and your hands begin to fidget as you stutter out an apology.

“Are you ill?”

“N-no, Captain, I don’t think so.” You shuffle from foot to foot – you can feel another coughing fit coming on, and you really don’t want Phasma to be around for that. “Just a tickle, must’ve breathed in some dust.” Right. Through your helmet. As if Phasma would believe that.

She hums, giving you a once over. You squirm.

“Good.”

She turns and starts to walk away. “Come to my quarters tomorrow night.”

Your heart flutters as you watch her round the corner, disappearing from view.

Cough.

~~~

“Mmh, oh- f-fuck,” you mewl, as Phasma’s hips slam into yours at a brutal pace, her dildo disappearing inside of you as she thrusts the entire length into your cunt. A bead of sweat collects at her temple, rolling slowly down her flushed cheek. Her hair sticks to her forehead, falling into her eyes – hungry eyes that devour you as she ravishes you. Her lips are parted to let out quiet grunts, her abs ripple with exertion and her biceps flex as she holds herself above you.

Your eyes roll back in your head as the dildo reaches deep inside of you – your breath quickens and you feel a guttural moan tear from your throat as your orgasm hits you, your walls clenching around Phasma’s cock. She’s relentless – she doesn’t let up, fucking you through your orgasm and even after, as you sink into the mattress and try desperately to regulate your breathing.

Phasma reaches her own peak and tumbles over it, and it’s a glorious sight. Her jaw goes slack and her eyelids fall shut, a broken moan slips past her lips. Her entire body trembles a bit and her hips stutter in their movements. The fact that she can get off by watching you cum is incredibly arousing to you, and it makes you feel special.

She removes the harness and the dildo and tosses it on the floor beside the bed, before lying down next to you – not to cuddle, no, never to cuddle – just to rest for a moment and recover from her orgasm. You turn your head to glance over at her. Her eyes are shut, allowing you to admire her openly. She’s breathing heavily, her cheeks are red, her forehead is sweaty. She looks heavenly, divine even.

You wish she would let you wrap your arms around her waist and pull her close. You wish she would let you feel her lips against your own. You wish she would let you card your fingers through her hair and caress her jaw and tell her how much you love her, and you wish she would say it back. You wish-

Cough.

Oh no. Not again.

Phasma’s eyes shoot open and she looks over at you, raising an eyebrow. You avoid her gaze as your lungs constrict and you cough again, and again. Something tickles your throat – it’s as if something is stuck there. You cough harder – it has to come out. Covering your mouth, you cough again, and feel something soft hit your palm.

A small, blue flower petal. Your eyes widen in horror as you stare at the petal in your hand.

No. No, no, no, no. It can’t be. It can’t-

“What is that?” Phasma asks. Her brows are knit together and she cranes her neck to try and get a look.

“N-nothing” cough “it’s nothing.”

But Phasma isn’t one for playing games. Long, slender fingers curl around your wrist, vice-like in their strength – a snake devouring its prey, and she forces you to show her what you’ve coughed up.

Her upper lip twitches.

A billion micro-expressions cross her face, too quickly for you to place any one of them. When she looks you in the eyes a moment later, her face is devoid of any expression at all.

“It’s time you leave. Don’t be late for training tomorrow.”

You don’t need to be told twice – the hard edge to her voice scares you, so you clamber out of her bed and dress as quickly and as quietly as you can, your cheeks burning as you feel Phasma watching your every move. You hurry to leave, leaving the flower petal nestled among the sheets.

Phasma stares at it as you leave. She knows what it means. She’s no fool – she’s seen the way you look at her, how eager you are to please her – both in work and in sex.

An intense, burning rage fills Phasma - her insides suddenly feel like molten lava, her heart pounds viciously. If you die, Phasma will lose one of her best stormtroopers - and one of her best lovers. And you will die, if it's Phasma you’re in love with.

It’s not that she doesn’t want to love you back. There’s a reason she’s let you warm her bed for so long, after all. You’re skilled with your tongue, certainly, and you look so enticing when you’re being fucked into oblivion. But there’s something else – something Phasma doesn’t quite understand, something she’s never felt before. It’s not love, at least she doesn’t think it is – it’s nothing like how other people describe love, a feeling that Phasma doesn’t ever recall feeling.

But it’s something, and it’s been so long since Phasma has felt anything. Around you, in those brief moments after sex just before she kicks you out of her bed, she feels just a little lighter. Her usual anger is subdued, a dying ember where there’s usually a roaring flame.

It’s not enough, though. She knows this. She knows you know this – you must know this.

You’re a fool – a damned fool – Phasma thinks. Only an idiot would fall in love with her.

~~~

As is to be expected, your illness gets worse. You begin to disrupt training with your coughing – Phasma finds this annoying as is, but what she finds even more annoying is the unfamiliar sense of guilt that gnaws at her stomach, knowing she’s the cause of your… distress.

She dismisses you from training – the others will get suspicious, and your performance is lacking anyway. It’s best if you stay in your quarters.

She goes to check on you one day, in the middle of the night. Briefly, she wonders if she should have come at a more reasonable hour, but then she hears the coughing through your door and she knows you haven’t been able to fall asleep yet anyway.

You answer the door, your eyes bleary and your face pale. There’s blood trickling down your chin and a few small, crushed flower petals cling to the sweaty fabric of your nightgown. And yet, you smile at her. She tilts her head – why are you smiling? You’re a fool – a damned fool.

“It’s progressed then?” she asks. The modulator in her helmet keeps her voice level, and for that she is grateful.

Your eyes fill with sadness but your smile – soft, gentle – never wavers. You nod and open your mouth to speak, but you’re interrupted by another coughing fit, and bloody flower petals spill out of your mouth and onto Phasma’s boots.

Phasma looks down at the stained chrome, then back up at you.

“I-I’m” cough “sorry” wheeze “I-I’ll c-clean it-“

“Leave it.”

Your eyes widen and your cheeks redden, but you don’t dare argue.

Phasma turns her head to the right, then to the left. The corridor is empty. She takes a step towards you, into your quarters, until she’s nearly flush against you. Lifting her hands to her head, she removes her helmet, and cool blue eyes pierce your own. Your smile is back now, and she doesn’t understand – in fact, it makes her a little uncomfortable. A smile like that has rarely been directed at her (even if there is blood dribbling down your chin and your eyes are slightly unfocused) – it takes all her willpower to maintain eye contact.

“You shouldn’t have fallen in love with me.” Her tone is lacking noticeably in bite, though neither of you acknowledge this fact.

“I know.”

Cough.

“You’ll die.”

“I know.”

Wheeze.

Phasma’s lip twitches and her eyes dart between your own. Your smile is steady and true, even as your eyes fill with tears.

Phasma knows what she should say – what anyone else in her position would say. ‘I’m sorry’. Except she can’t say it, because she isn’t. Is she? She’s unsure – she’s never actually felt sorry for anything, not even for betraying her own family. Why should some random woman, a subordinate of hers at that, change that?

She remains silent. She nods curtly. You stifle another cough as you nod back, blinking slowly – it appears as though, somehow, you understand. As though you know that Phasma even bothering to show up in your quarters at all before your body leaves this galaxy is nothing short of a goddamn miracle.

“You d-don’t h-have” cough “to love me b-back. Just d-don’t” cough “for-forget me.”

You chuckle. Phasma doesn’t think it’s funny. She blinks, puts her helmet back on.

“Goodnight, FN-196.”

She doesn’t spare you another glance as she leaves.

~~~

Early one morning, Phasma is called to your quarters – as your superior, if something has happened, she needs to be informed.

And Phasma immediately knows what’s happened. Underneath her helmet, her eyes scan your body – limp, pale, covered in blood and flower petals. Even worse off than the last time she saw you. Usually, such a gory sight stirs up a sort of crazed bloodlust deep within Phasma’s soul, a gleeful sort of giddiness. Only now, when it’s you covered in blood and sweat, unmoving, she feels no such thing.

Her lips curl into a frown – wrong way, wrong way, she should be smiling! She shouldn’t be upset!

Sometimes, when one is confronted with death, they regret. They think of all the things they wished they’d said, they wish for one more moment with the person they care for.

Phasma doesn’t regret. She knows she couldn’t have told you how she feels about you anyway. How does she feel about you? Perhaps, she could have told you that when she’s with you, she feels for the first time. But would that have been enough to save you? No, probably not. And perhaps it’s better this way. It would have gotten messy – Phasma doesn’t mix work and relationships (only casual sex, only ever casual sex, only with people who are disposable). She’s not even sure she was built for a relationship – in fact, she’s certain she wasn’t.

So, no, Phasma doesn’t wish for one more moment with you in which she would profess her undying love (is she capable of such a thing?) and see the bright smile on your face when you realize your affection is returned. But her heart does ache a little – just a little twinge, really, in a very foreign sort of way – and, when she thinks of never feeling your silken skin under her fingertips again, her stomach twists.

The stormtrooper tilts his head. “What should I do with her, Captain?”

Phasma’s gaze never leaves your body, even as she’s addressed directly. What should one do with you? The thought of doing anything at all makes her heart clench.

But she can’t show weakness.

She can’t.

She swallows thickly. Discreetly.

Blinks twice.

Then her face hardens. The stormtrooper can’t see it underneath her helmet anyway, but it’s part of her mask. She has to play the part if she’s going to keep the respect of her troops. Self-preservation has always been vital to her, after all.

“Take her away.”

The stormtrooper shrugs and slings your body over his shoulder, before carrying you out of the room – carelessly, like a doll. Phasma grits her teeth – you should be treated like a precious thing, carried bridal style and showered with kiss- no. What is she thinking? You’re nothing but a corpse now, it hardly matters how your body is treated. Except, for some reason, it matters a lot to Phasma, though she cannot let on to that.

She waits.

She waits until the door closes and the footsteps of the stormtrooper’s boots against the cold metal floor fade.

Her gaze falls to the floor where, amongst a few droplets of blood, a single, tiny, blue forget-me-not petal rests.

A single tear drips down her cheek, catching on the inside of her helmet.

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naughtyneganjdm · 11 months

Text

One Time Thing

Summary: With every meal, a member of Alexandria that Negan finds himself affectionate for comes down to visit him. On this day, Negan lets Y/N know how he feels about her leading to a sexy moment between the two of them.

Characters: Negan, the reader (OC, third person), etc.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47527771

Warnings: 18+, Swearing, smut, oral (male and female receiving), etc.

Notes: I made a challenge for myself to write a short one-shot to go along with a smut prompt sentence. I was given "*this is a one time thing* negan x reader but the one who falls in love first is daddy Negan" ... I hope the person that requested this enjoys it! And if you liked this in any way, please let me know! Y/N means your name or whatever name you want to add. Do I have to keep saying this or is it pretty well known at this point? Oh well, either way. Enjoy!

Laughter echoed throughout the small, mundane cell that Negan had been locked up in for God knows how long at this point. Pulling his eyes away from the book that he was reading, Negan looked to the window that they had given him to see that sun was pouring in. It was hot. Uncomfortably hot for him at least. It felt like he was being baked inside of his cell, but out there? Kids were playing soccer together having fun. From where Negan was seated at the corner of his cell, he felt a sense of loneliness fill his body when he tipped his head to the side.

The sounds outside reminded him of when he was younger. When him and Lucille lived in their small little home. Every summer the kids would get together and play sports in the middle of the street with one another. Closing his eyes, he still vaguely remembered what it was like back then, but the memory was somewhat of a blur and he hated that.

Huffing, Negan set his book down beside him and pulled apart the buttons of the blue long sleeve that they had him in. Tossing it on top of the small cot, he got more relaxed and slid his feet further out onto the floor. Stretching out his long legs, Negan looked to the door of his cell. Usually he would be having someone coming down to give him his lunch right about now. Most of the time he didn’t care much for visits, but Negan especially looked forward to his meals. Those were the times of the day when someone who had really caught his attention would visit him. Most people at Alexandria snubbed their nose at him. Mocked him or just plain out ignored him. But Y/N, she never did that. In fact, she always initiated a conversation with him. Listened to him. She empathized with him when everyone else just saw a monster.

See the thing is, Negan without meaning to had developed feelings for this woman. With her kindness and her gentle touch, Negan found himself in awe of her. She was beautiful, sweet, charming…everything that was far too good for him, but he couldn’t help having feelings for her. Of course he never told her because he knew that if he did, nothing would come from it. No one would want to be with him. Not when the whole town would shame her if they found out. Getting lost in his thoughts, Negan let out a long sigh. At this point in his life Negan knew he was too far gone for someone else to love.

This morning when it was breakfast time, someone else had showed up with his food which was extremely disappointing. Especially since she was the thing that made his morning for him. Getting information from the Alexandrian that came in this morning was hard, but he was promised that she would be back for lunch. Truthfully? It worried him when she didn’t show up because she had been the one doing it consistently over the last few months. So just knowing that she was okay? That’s all that mattered to him. The only problem was, with her not showing up on time for lunch it just made him worry more.

Forcing himself to start reading again, he knew that if he let his mind linger, he would just start feeling bad for himself again. It was painful enough being locked up here inside of Alexandria. The last thing he needed was his own mind beating the shit out of itself.

“There she is,” Negan’s voice rumbled when the sound of someone’s footsteps pulled him away from the book following the sound of a door closing. Excitement flooded his veins when Y/N finally made it into the room that held his cell. When their eyes connected, Negan set the book down beside him and offered her up a big, cheesy toothy smile that made her smirk. “I didn’t think you were coming. I was worried about you.”

“You? Worried about me?” she spoke up, her eyebrow arching in curiosity when she made her way toward his cell. “Why would you worry about a gal like me?”

“Why wouldn’t I worry about a gal like you?” Negan replied noticing the way that her cheeks flushed over with his comment back. Unlike the others, Y/N would actually unlock his cell and take the time to come in to talk to him during his meal which was something he really liked. Loneliness had eaten away at Negan for so long that Y/N had helped heal some of that for him. “You’re the best part of my day.”

Getting into his cell, Y/N brought Negan’s serving tray in with her and closed the door behind her. Holding out the tray, she waited for Negan to accept it before carefully lowering down in beside him so they could sit together, “I’m one of the most boring people here Negan.”

“Not for me you aren’t,” Negan hushed her, his thick eyebrow arching in amusement when she got comfortable in beside him. Noticing that she was wearing a V-neck shirt, it made a wolfish smile press in over his handsome features and he snorted. “Did you wear that for me?”

“I wore it because it’s balls hot outside Negan,” she swatted at his shoulder, getting more comfortable with her back pressed against the wall. “I’m sweating like a pig. I’m sure that’s very appealing to you.”

“You have no idea,” Negan rumbled grabbing the sandwich from his plate and groaning outwardly. “Sandwiches. My favorite.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” she nudged him playfully with her elbow hearing him snort before taking a big bite of the egg sandwich that she had brought him. “At least I try to give you variety with your sandwiches.”

“True,” Negan agreed with a mouthful holding his sandwich out for her to take a bite. With a huff, she took a bite making him smile before taking a few more big bites on his own. “You know you like sharing lunch with me.”

“Sometimes I think you make me eat your lunch so you know that I’m not poisoning you,” she watched him finish off the sandwich. Placing her hand over his knee, she caressed over it tenderly making Negan swallow down hard. “I’m just glad you’re eating now. You scared the hell out of me when you weren’t eating.”

“You’re what made me start eating,” Negan whispered poking at one of the sides she had brought him with his meal. It made her turn her head toward him and he cleared his throat. “When you cried about me starving myself to death…I never wanted to see you cry again.”

“I looked that bad, huh?” she hesitated hearing Negan snort before rolling his eyes. “I didn’t mean to cry. I just didn’t want the person I was taking care of to die under my watch.”

“Oh, so you didn’t just care about me or anything?” Negan teased her, setting the tray out in front of them after he finished his lunch. Pouring some of the water she had brought for him out into his hands, Negan splashed some of it onto his face and grumbled. “It’s fucking hot. Between being baked and not being able to come, I think y’all are trying to kill me here.”

“What?” she blurt out, an amused laughter falling from her lungs when he bobbed his head about. “You’re not able to come?”

“Not at all,” Negan alerted her with a frown making her roll her eyes. “Do you know how hard it is to wake up every day with an erection and not be able to do anything about it? I don’t know if it’s because of the environment or what…”

“You’re full of shit,” she chuckled seeing Negan shake his head.

“I wish I was. You can ask the father, more times than I care to admit he has come down here seeing me try to beat one out, but I can’t…” Negan snickered making her cover her eyes and drop her head back against the wall while they both laughed. “I know I’ve had to make him uncomfortable.”

“You’re unbelievable,” she smacked at the center of Negan’s chest making a deep rumble of laughter fall from his throat. “So that’s why I see him going into the church praying so hard? You just burned that image into his soul for life.”

“I think of it as a gift, but it is what it is,” Negan shrugged noticing the way that she looked him over and his nose wrinkled. “What?”

“Sometimes I think you bullshit me to show off,” she explained sliding in closer to Negan making him turn his upper half toward her. Shaking his head, Negan’s dimples sank in and he let out a tsking sound. “See, now…you’re making me jealous that Gabriel has seen you naked.”

“Jealous?” Negan repeated her words with a smirk. “If you want to see my cock Y/N, all you have to do is ask. I’m kind of head over heels for you if you haven’t noticed. So all you have to do is say jump and I’d ask how high.”

“Bullshit,” she breathed out again making Negan’s expression turn very serious. With his eyes gazing over her lips, it made her heart skip a beat and she felt hot at the way he was looking at her. “You’re just charming and flirty.”

“I am those things, but I don’t lie to you,” Negan assured her pressing in closer to her so that their faces were close enough to one another. The warmth of his breath lingered over her lips making a shuddering sound escape her. “I’ve never lied to you. And I never will.”

Faintly his lips skimmed over hers, just barely touching them. It was bold of him to try this because he knew that he might upset her and she would never come back, but he had to let her know how he felt about her. When she didn’t push him away, he brought their lips together and he claimed her mouth in a kiss that was delicate. Taking his time, he allowed her to get used to the sensation of him kissing her before he deepened the kiss. Curling his finger in underneath her chin, he managed to get her to tip her head back. The movement had her lips parting allowing him to brush his tongue over hers in a tempting, teasing flick. With the sound that followed, he felt a fire flooding his veins when he tried to deepen the kiss. Wincing, he felt her hand placing firmly over the center of his chest and he frowned. “Sorry.”

“Place your hands on the floor,” she instructed him making his hazel eyes narrow, his jaw flexing when he didn’t get why she was telling him to do it. “Flat on the ground.”

“I don’t understand,” Negan panted, his heart hammering inside of his chest when she ordered him to put his hands at his side. Licking at his lips, Negan could see that her eyes were dilated with lust so he didn’t think he did anything wrong. “Y/N?”

“Hands flat out on the ground beside you,” she ordered and instead of fighting her, Negan did what she told him to do. There was a slow, uneasy motion in the way he did it, but when his palms flattened out over the ground, she moved in closer to him. Swallowing down, Negan watched her hands reaching out toward his pants to start undoing his belt making a sharp breath escape his lips. “Good boy. We’ll see if we can make you come.”

There were so many things he wanted to say. So many wise crack remarks, but with her fingers swiftly pulling apart the belt in his pants, he found his heart hammering in his chest. It had his body shaking. His lips were parted, the sound of his heavy breaths filling the air around them. With ease she unhooked his belt, tugging it out before reaching for the button in his pants to yank it apart.

“You don’t have to do this,” Negan groaned when she jerked at the material of his pants. Arching his hips up toward her in order for her to be able to do what she wanted when she pulled down the zipper. Licking at his lips, Negan saw that there was determination in her eyes when she pushed the material apart and reached inside to snake her hand between the slit of his boxer briefs in search of his semi-erect form. Pulling Negan’s cock out into her hand had him moaning out. “Y/N.”

“Don’t move,” she demanded when her fingers wrapped around the shaft of his cock, starting to pump his flesh in her grasp. Negan’s head tipped back against the hard wall making her smile. It was taking everything inside of Negan for him not to respond to what she was doing right now. Sliding in closer to Negan, she leaned in to press wet kisses over the side of his neck and heard him growl when she did it. “This is a one time thing. You understand that, right?”

Nodding once, Negan moaned out when she bit at the side of his neck. Licking his lips, Negan wanted to bounce his hips up toward her caress, but he knew that she was specific in telling him what she wanted him to do. Sheathing him in her grasp she took her time to pay attention to Negan’s reaction to every touch. Peppering her kisses up over his jawline, her lips met Negan’s feeling his tense against the kiss making her laugh.

“Relax,” she encouraged making his body loosen up when he eagerly kissed her with everything he had inside of him. In no time she had managed to get him solid within her grasps. Pulling from the kiss, she stared down at Negan’s erection finding her mouth watering at the way he ached in her grasp. The veins were prominent going up the shaft and she took the chance to trace over them making Negan’s hips arch up toward her touch. “You have a nice cock.”

“I know,” Negan noted making her roll her eyes. Stroking her thumb across the ridge of the swollen tip, she couldn’t help but enjoy having her way with Negan like this. “If you think it’s nice like that, you should see how nice it is inside of you.”

“Bold,” she slid in closer to him, leaning in to kiss over his bottom lip. A deep, raspy moan escaped his parted lips when her fingers curled around his girth again working her touch over his distended flesh. “When did you have a bath last?”

“This morning,” Negan responded finding it hard to keep his palms flat on the ground. At this point she had a steady, firm pace that she was jerking him off and his body felt like it was on fire. It had been so long since someone had touched him like this. “Why?”

“Because I want to make sure that what I’m putting in my mouth is clean,” she answered against his lips, unhurriedly lowering herself down making a sharp exhale fall from his throat. Outstretching her tongue, she dragged it over the tip collecting the taste of him with a hum. Lazily taking her time to circle her tongue around the ridges of the tip of his swollen cock had him moaning out. “You have to be quiet.”

“Yes ma’am,” he obeyed her when she lifted her eyes up to give him a firm glare with her hand stroking over his tip. Already he was exceedingly sensitive with her touch so it felt fucking amazing having her doing that. Biting into his bottom lip, he gave her a nod of approval making her smirk. Dropping her head back down, she placed wet kisses over the tip with her tongue dragging out over the flesh in unhurried flicks. It took everything inside of him not to make a noise. Considering she was the first person to touch him in years, he thought he was doing a pretty good fucking job. “Fuck, Y/N.”

“Mmmm…” she hummed taking just the tip between her parted lips making his hips flex, pushing them up a bit toward the wet warmth.

She was teasing him with the drags of her tongue around his tip, down over the length of his shaft and back again. Shaking on his unsteady hands, Negan felt a fire burning through his veins and he couldn’t avoid the faint raspy moan that escaped him when her mouth finally took him in. Bobbing her head down and pulling back lazily while dragging her tongue along his erection had him tensing up beneath her. Keeping his eyes on her movements, Negan wondered if he had fallen asleep and this was something that his mind had conjured up. Having her stroking his shaft in circular motions with her palm with his cock in her mouth was something he could have only dreamt of before. Yet here she was doing what she could to get him to come.

“Please, can I touch you?” Negan begged knowing that she had ordered him to keep his hands on the ground. With a wet sound, Y/N pulled her lips from his glistening length. A line of saliva trailed from her lips to the tip of his cock and it made him moan. Licking her lips, her eyes surveyed him over and she could see the desperation in his big hazel eyes. “Please.”

“Just one,” she allowed with a nod of her head wrapping her other hand around his shaft to pump his girthy length in her grasp. Raising his right hand, Negan stroked his fingers through her hair before his thumb caressed in over her jawline. With her eyes connected on Negan’s, she leaned down enough to take the bulbous head back between her wet lips making him moan out. Every movement over his body, she had her eyes locked on him to see what it did to him making him realize she was a whole lot naughtier than she acted.

“God,” Negan fell forward when she took him as far back into her throat as she could. Palming in over her shoulders, he caressed over her body noticing that she deep throated him a few more times. Panting, Negan looked up toward the window to make sure that no one was noticing the two of them. Right now would have been one of those times where he wished that window didn’t exist. Sinking his fingers into her hair, Negan gave it a gentle tug getting her to pull away from his aching manhood with a smile. “I’m not coming. I think you’re going to have to try harder.”

“Oh?” she marveled her eyebrow arching in curiosity. “Well, if I try harder. You’re going to have to make me come too. I can’t put in the work and not be paid back Negan.”

“Yes ma’am,” Negan pulled her up to him stealing a kiss from her full, wet lips. Suckling at her bottom lip, Negan palmed in over her sides making her purr against his lips. “Get on your knees.”

“Now you’re giving orders?” she quipped, smiling against his lips when he nodded his head. “I don’t know how I feel about that.”

“You can control the ending,” Negan insisted with a rumble, his handsome smile tugging at his lips. “You’ll be thankful. I promise you.”

“I better be,” she retorted getting up to her knees making Negan’s eyes gaze over her. Snickering, he got on his knees and reached out for his pillow. Putting it on the hard ground before his cot, Negan grabbed a hold of her and made her face the cot. Bending her over the cot had her breathing heavily as he made sure that her knees were resting on the pillow. Grabbing the back of her pants, Negan tugged on the material getting it down over her bottom and to her thighs along with her panties. “Negan?”

“Shh…” Negan hushed her palming up over the small of her back pushing the material of her shirt up. Teasing his rough fingertips down her spine had her arching her back up while she braced herself on his cot. “You are so fucking gorgeous.”

Tipping forward he pressed faint kisses over the center of her back while his hands found their way to her hips. Caressing over the flesh with small squeezes had her cooing and it made him wonder what things were like for her outside these walls. Was she with someone out in Alexandria? Was this her first time in a long time too? Grunting, Negan forced her to put her head further down against the cot and pulled her ass up further. Leaning back on his knees, Negan caressed at her full bottom testing the flesh in his grasp.

“You have such a pretty ass baby,” Negan proclaimed lowering down to nip at her flesh making her gasp, but it was followed by an amused sound. Pushing her cheeks apart, Negan moaned at the sight of her before him. “Now that is a beautiful sight.”

Mewling out, her eyes slammed shut when Negan buried his head between her thighs, his tongue lapping at the length of her wet heat. Grasping the sheet that was over his cot and curling it up in her fingers, she was doing everything she could to stay quiet. It was a strange feeling with Negan’s short beard rubbing up against her flesh while he pleasured her, but she liked it. Between the strong flicks of his tongue and the sucking at her flesh, he had her purring and panting with every touch. What made everything even more sensual for her was the way that Negan was moaning against her pussy while he ate her out.

“Negan,” she cried out his name knowing that she would damn herself if someone outside heard her, but she couldn’t keep herself quiet. With how hard her heart was pounding inside of her chest, she didn’t know if she could keep this up. Slurping, wet sounds filled that small cell while Negan had his way with her. He was wild with reckless abandon as he pleasured her like it was the first meal he had in years. Gasping, she felt him pulling away from her to squeeze over her bottom giving it a small spank followed by another squeeze. It had her wiggling her hips back wanting his mouth back over her. A deep rumble of a chuckle followed, but he gave her what she wanted. Dragging his tongue from top down, repeating the motion of his tongue flicking over the length of her sex. “Please…please…”

“Please what?” Negan slurred against her body, sucking at her sensitive flesh feeling her buck back against him.

“Fuck me,” she begged of him feeling everything inside of her aching. Excitement fell from Negan’s throat with him pressing one final wet kiss over her core. Getting up on his knees, he moved in behind her and firmly brought her hips where he wanted them. Looking back over her shoulder at Negan, she watched him reaching for the gray shirt that he was wearing to pull it from his body. Pushing his pants down to the bottom of his waist, Negan curled his long fingers around the base of his cock and teased a line with the tip of his cock between her wet folds. It made her bounce her hips back and a wicked smile flooded his features. “For fuck’s sake, please…”

“Please what?” Negan snorted, tracing his cock up and down several times over her. It was torture and he wasn’t giving her what she truly wanted. Tapping his hard cock against her bottom felt heavy with the smack it gave against her flesh.

“Fuck me now or I will never come back down here to see you again,” she warned with a hiss making Negan frown, his expressive eyebrows adding to his pout.

“Well that’s mean,” he huffed leading the swollen tip of his cock to her entrance. Pushing forward, he slid into her with ease with how wet he had already gotten her making both of them moan in unison. Dropping her head into the sheets, she tried to silence her moan with the way he filled her with his thick length. Pulling back his hips and then pushing forward had her bouncing forward with him filling her to the brim. Each thrust he made got more confident and harder with his hands leading her hips back against him. The smacking sound of their flesh filled the tiny cell while Negan pounded into her. Watching the way his cock filled her made him happier than ever seeing that her arousal was coating his cock. “Fuck…”

Surrounded by the tight walls of her body, Negan found himself lost in the moment while bucking up against her bottom. Her gasps were repetitive with his movements from being stretched by his girthy cock. Digging his fingers into her flesh, Negan wondered if it would be enough to leave marks because he was so desperate to feel all of this.

“Your cock is so big,” she whined biting down on her bottom lip, gazing back over her shoulder at Negan who seemed proud to hear that comment. “Goddamn Negan.”

“You’re not going to want this just to be a one time thing,” Negan rumbled sliding his palms up her sides. Adjusting his body, he leaned over her, hooking his fingers with hers keeping them closer together while he slowed down his tempo. Rolling his hips, Negan took his time making her breathless with every move he made. Kissing over the side of her neck and over her jawline, Negan could tell the change in position had affected her greatly because her cries were more desperate. “Not with how good this feels.”

“Please,” she pleaded with him, squeezing her fingers around his harder trying to bounce back into his movements. “I’m begging you.”

“You’re gonna come?” Negan growled making her nod and desperately kiss him looking to have that connection with him. With his cock rubbing up against her g-spot with every roll of his hips, there was just enough pressure that it was driving her wild with desire. Abandoning inhibitions, all they both focused on was the pure blissful pleasure that they were feeling. Sucking at her bottom lip, Negan hissed and brushed his tongue out at the wet flesh making her whimper. “Come on baby…”

Squeezing her eyes shut, she arched her hips further up toward his loving the sounds it made with his cock plunging into her tight canal with every thrust he made inside of her. Once her thighs started to shake, it seemed like Negan caught onto it with him starting to thrust faster. Letting go of one of her hands, he curled his fingers firmly around her mouth to keep her silent when she cried out into his hand. What sounded like a squeal vibrated against his flesh when Negan was forced to pull his hips back when a hot liquid rush flooded from her and down her thighs. A wet sound filled the air along with the awe that came from Negan when he just had her hit an orgasm that had her a shaking, trembling mess on his cot. Before she could even register what he had just done to her, he was back inside of her pumping away after she came, but everything was so sensitive that she was mewling out. Everything felt like it was spinning and she desperately reached back to try to grab a hold of his hips to get him to move faster. Eagerness flooded her wanting to have that friction again. It was an addictive feeling and she wanted more of it.

Desperately clinging to his other hand had him chuckling in his amusement, “You just made me come. Hard.”

“You don’t say,” Negan mocked, nibbling at her earlobe. “You’re not used to squirting, are you?”

“Get up,” she pulled her hips away from him, surprising him when his cock slid from her warmth. Shakily standing up on her legs, she felt like they were Jell-O. Barely being able to stand on them, she knew if she didn’t get him where she wanted, she would undoubtedly fall. Pointing toward the cot had Negan immediately getting up to scramble to the cot. Sitting at the center of it, Negan braced his back against the wall while she worked her pants completely off along with her shoes. With a smirk, she saw that Negan’s pants were bunched up at his ankles. This was a sight in itself. Negan naked, stroking his engorged cock while he stared up at her. It was a sight to be seen. One she would likely never forget. Crawling in over Negan, she hooked her left arm around his shoulders and reached with her right to lead his throbbing cock back to her entrance. Once she lowered down over his length, it had Negan growling out, his brow line creasing. “Goddamn.”

“Oh, it feels so good, doesn’t it?” Negan grumbled, his eyes desperate to take in her reaction to him getting her to squirt. “I’m jealous. I haven’t had an orgasm yet.”

“You’re going to. I never fail,” she smacked lightly at the side of Negan’s face making him chuckle when she braced herself over his knee with her right hand. Supporting her over him, Negan’s arms wrapped around her while she started to bounce her body over his manhood. Everything tingled and ached, but fuck she wasn’t going to give up until Negan came. “Fuck.”

“You love that big cock, don’t you?” Negan mused his eyebrows bouncing up when he leaned in to kiss her with all the passion that he could build up. “You’re welcome to come down here anytime you’re looking to have an orgasm. My mouth and cock are yours and very willing. Now that I know you’re a squirter, I’m more determined than ever.”

“I bet,” she started quickening her movements over him making the small cot squeak with the movements they were making. “We might break your cot.”

“I don’t care,” Negan panted, his head dropping to watch his cock slipping in and out of her wet core. “I’ll live if it breaks. Just don’t stop…”

Sharp breaths fell from both of them. They were both left aching for more while their movements got harder and rougher. Burying his head against the side of her neck, Negan grasped her hips tightly holding them in place when he started to smack his slender hips up underneath her plunging his lengthy cock inside of her repeatedly. Digging her nails into the center of his chest, she braced onto him with everything that she had knowing that he was trying to make her come again.

“Negan, fucking…” she wailed pulling her hips up and away from him once he managed to get another one out of her. Smacking at his abdomen had him laughing while she tried to brace herself over his body. An immense pressure filled her head, her eyes fuzzing over forcing her to close them to break that feeling of passing out. Being quiet after experiencing what she just had twice was so incredibly hard. “You’re going to fucking kill me.”

“From what?” Negan chuckled, kissing up over the side of her neck while she tremored over him. Negan’s cock twitched with anticipation, eager for a release itself with how dark red the tip looked. “Coming too much?”

“Dehydration,” she responded making Negan burst out in laughter, curling his arm around her waist to bring her back to him. Laying down, he gave her full range to do what she wanted when she braced her hands over his chest again. Taking things easy, she knew that she was so damn sensitive already. Dropping her head back, she could hear the wind from outside and wondered if someone had heard them in here. Even if they did, she didn’t care. This was the best experience she had gotten in years and she was going to get as much out of it as she could. With a wince, Negan lifted his head watching her ride him and the vein at the side of his neck started to bulge with his abdomen sinking in. “There we go…”

“Almost,” Negan’s fingers squeezed over her bottom helping to aid her movements over his pulsating length. Roaring out, Negan felt his climax rippling throughout him with his cum spurting out from the tip. With every downward thrust, Negan watched his arousal with hers covering his aching cock until he pumped her full of his release making her fall over onto his chest. The cot made a hell of a sound that made them both lift their heads half expecting it to break, but when it didn’t it made Negan drop his head back and laugh out. “That was…”

“Incredible,” she finished for him, stroking her fingers through the wet hair covering his chest. “I’m going to be feeling that for days.”

“You don’t want seconds for dinner?” Negan looked down at her, his hazel eyes hooking with hers making her smile. “Trust me, I have a whole lot more cum to give and fill you with. After years of nothing, these suckers are ready to give back…”

“You are so immature,” she watched Negan reach down to drag his fingers over his testicles. A groan fell from his throat when she hit him at the center of his chest. “I’m sorry about your pillow…and your bed.”

“Don’t apologize for that,” Negan placed a kiss over her forehead, his chest rising and falling rapidly while he tried to calm down. “I’m actually fucking proud of that. So never apologize. I wear the dampness with honor. Not only are you the first to make me come in a long time, but you’re also the woman I find myself having feelings for.”

“You…” she lifted her head up to see the nervousness in his eyes. “You what?”

“I love you,” Negan was quiet in the way that he delivered it, unsure of how she would respond. “And not just because I made you squirt and you made me come. Because I love you. You’re the one thing that I look forward to every day. And I’m sorry if that ruins this whole thing for you because I really fucking love you, but with the way shit is these days you never fucking know if something is going to happen so you should really get that…”

“Negan,” she covered his lips after he started to ramble off in a worried panic. Smirking, she shook her head and smiled. Lowering her head down, she rest it in over his chest to get comfortable.

At this point he didn’t know if she felt the same way, but with her cuddling into him, he didn’t take that as a bad sign. Nor was he going to turn her down. Wrapping her up in his arms, Negan knew that at any time someone could come down here and see them together, but he didn’t care. This was fucking perfect and he was going to cherish it for as long as he could.

----

Tags: @slutlanna976 @fuckthis-and-fuckthat @jennydehavilland @de-gabyconamor @ibelongtonegan @smallsadjellyfish @labyrinthofheartagrams @msjamesmarch @thebeautysurrounds @hotfornegan @redmercysugar @caprithebunny @tuttifuckinfruitty @emoryhemsworth @a-girl-interupted @akumune @stoneyggirl2 @xsarcasticwriterx @insertneganhere @haleygreen23 @xhannahbananax03 @sanctuaryforthelost @burningredaffair @killaweiser @dead-of-niight @ayumi-wolf @hollyismentallyillhelp @nt-multi-fandom @tone-stark @strawberryslutera

#Negan #Jeffrey Dean Morgan #negan x reader #negan fanfiction #The Walking Dead #twd fanfiction #negan x you #negan imagine #negan smut

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natashaslittlegirl · 1 year

Text

Secrets - Thérèse Raquin

DO NOT COPY ANY OF MY WORKS. MINORS DNI +18 ONLY.

Summary: Thérèse, you sister-in-law, always had a crush on you, one night she told you her little secret.

Innocent!Thérèse Raquin x Reader

Smut, top!reader, bottom!Thérèse, masturbation (T), dirty talk, dub-con (kind of?), vaginal fingering (both), thigh riding (T), finger sucking (both), praise kink, oral sex (T to R), overstimulation, squirting (T).

Words Count: 2400+

Wattpad Masterlist Elizabeth Olsen's Masterlist

You were in your room reading a book placidly, drinking herbal tea while you enjoyed your husband's trip out of town, you had never liked him anyway, rather, his sister. Your sister-in-law was the one you liked, but they would burned alive knowing that you liked a woman, for everyone it was a sin, for you the purest thing in the world, but those are just opinions.

Someone knocked on your door, so you put down the poetry book and got up to open it, cursing the dress you had to wear, why so many layers of clothes? it was very uncomfortable.

"Coming" you said before opening, "Oh, Thérèse, come in." the brunette entered, she looked beautiful today, with her white dress with brown details and her loose wavy hair.

"Hi, I wanted to know if you, if you wanted..." she bit her lip, nervous at your presence.

"If I want what, darling?" You gave her a warm look, you loved how nervous she got, you enjoyed it a lot.

"If you wanted us to drink my brother's whiskey tonight, taking advantage of the fact that he's gone for a few days and you know we're not allowed to drink, it's to take advantage of the fact that the men aren't here and I-" you silenced her babbling by putting your index finger on his soft pink lips.

"Of course, dear, come here at eleven, when everyone else is sleeping." She looked at you from below, being taller than her, what made you think of how frustrated you always left her.

"Okay, I'll see you later." Just like that, she walked out the door and you kept drinking your tea, thinking of all the ways you wanted to take Thérèse.

It was about to show eleven on the clock when two knocks resounded on the door, without asking you let the brunette in, who slipped in with a candle and a giant bottle of whiskey in her hands.

"Oh" she pant, "I thought someone would see me." she said as she took a deep breath, touching her chest with one hand.

"Don't be silly, Thérèse, they've all slept since seven." you giggled, taking the bottle from her hand to sit on the bed, inviting her to do the same.

The brunette walked slowly to sit on the bed next to you, settling down a few inches from you. This was one of the times that she got so nervous spending time with you, it's not like you didn't know each other or anything, you already spent several afternoons together, cooking, sewing, washing and doing all the housewife things. But this time is different, because she came with the idea of telling you her secret, one that she kept for months and you were involved.

"Mhm this is delicious." you said purring after taking a drink of the yellowish liquid, feeling how it burned your throat but at the same time you loved it.

You passed the bottle to Thérèse, imitating you, she let the liquor down her throat, grunting at the burn.

"Oh, you're right, it burns though." she said shyly but your smile made her feel welcome.

You continued to drink, until you reached half the bottle, both now were tipsy, laughing not too loud so that the others wouldn't wake up. You had adjusted your dress, revealing your perfectly shaped legs, which your sister-in-law could not take her eyes off.

"Oh, that was a good anecdote indeed!" She said laughing while you drank another bit of the alcohol.

"Yes, one of the best," you licked your lips, feeling a drop trickle down your chin.

"Let me," she moved closer to you, her thumb catching the drop and bringing it to her own lips, moaning at the taste.

"Tell me a secret." You told her, your look was serious, but only because the simple act of her sucking her finger had turned you on.

"I have a really good one," Thérèse was no longer nervous, the alcohol had vanished her inhibitions, "do you remember that day you went out to hang your clothes on the ropes, that later you told me that in the heat you had taken off your dress because it was it wet?"

You looked at her with furrowed eyebrows, you didn't understand what she meant by that day, what could there be about that day? Oh.

"Huh? And what happened that day?" you played innocent.

"Well, I was in the bushes, looking at some flowers and well, you've always seemed so beautiful to me, like no man has and like no other woman." your eyes wide "And I started to feel a tingling in my lower abdomen, the one we're supposed to feel when we're with men."

Thérèse told you this without a drop of shyness, which you appreciated since she was very inhibited, you waited for this for a long time.

"So I lowered my hips and squeezed my thighs, then I started to moved against the ground, and then my hand and,"

"Thérèse..." you sighed.

"I did that thinking of you." she said, blushing a little, her dark eyes shining with the firelight, "Actually, I had this same dress on."

"Oh yeah?" she nodded, "okay, show me, cause I can't understand you with words, darling" her eyes widened, she didn't expect this.

"S-show you w-what?" she said in a whisper, a little blush appeared in her cheeks again.

"How you touched yourself for me." you moved closer to her to bring your hands behind her, unbuttoning her piece of clothing to remove it.

Thérèse obediently lifted her arms, leaving her alone in her white nightgown. She had taken her shoes off to get on the bed.

"Lean your back against the wall," she did as you told her "now, bend your legs and spread them."

"Like that?" she said in a whisper again, showing you her position as she grabs the hem of her nightgown to lift it up and leave it and coiled on her hips.

You watched as she slowly exposed her legs, to then realize that she was not wearing panties, her arousal glistening between her thighs.

"Yes, like that, darling." you bit the inside of your cheek "now show me." Thérèse slowly moved her hips as she lowered her hand to her clit, brushing lightly against it and shuddering at the contact.

She ran her fingers freely over her wet core, as if she knew the path by heart. She e started to rub her clit a little faster your eyes couldn't take off her fingers.

"Don't oppress the sweet sounds you make, I want to hear you, dear." you had to fight the urge to rail her right there.

Thérèse let out little moans from hers lips, almost inaudible, but you would get more of it out of her later. One finger entered her and a growl tore from her throat, you had to clench your thighs, because this was all too exciting.

"You like that? You like to think that it's me who's touching you and not just your silly little fingers?" your husky voice resounded in her ears.

"Yes," she moaned as she thrust another finger inside.

"Do you want me to touch you like that, darling?" you lean over her, your face was just centimeters apart, you could feel her hot breath crashing you.

"We can't."

"Oh but we can, no one has to know," you brushed against her lips as you looked down at her body "It'll be our little secret." she looked at you with pleading eyes.

"What if someone finds out?" She was doubting, you couldn't stand it. You pressed her lower lip with your thumb.

"No one is gonna find out if you don't open that little pretty mouth of yours." you pressed your knee to her wet cunt, making her moan.

"I'm not gonna tell anyone, I promise." you pressed harder.

"Good girl, I know you were going to be such a good girl, aren't you?" she nod desperately. "Are you gonna let me help you?"

"Yes please." she breath out as you keep pressing your knee on her.

"Move your hips to me, baby."

She began to rock her hips, grinding on your thigh and you felt her wetness from her soaking you. You know she was close, she was so worked up before you could even touch her.

"Let me know when you're close, darling." you wanted to frustrate her, to make her beg you to touch her.

"I- I'm close." she whispered in your ear.

"We're gonna do this my way, okay?" she nodded eagerly, she did not care, she wanted her release.

You moved your knee from her, leaving her rocking to nothing and before she could protest you pushed two fingers inside her mouth from her.

"Do you want to touch me too, don't you darling?" she nod, "you're gonna be good for me and make me feel good so I can make you feel good later."

You took your fingers out of her mouth covered in saliva and sat by her side with your back to the wall, you lifted your dress leaving it coiled on your hips just like her.

"Come here," you pointed in front of you as Thérèse positioned herself kneeled between your legs "I'm gonna tell you what you have to do okay?" she nod "Now put your head between my thighs."

She did as you told, leaning over you wet cunt, that was already dripping.

"You're so wet." Her hot breath crashed with your sensitive skin, sending a shiver through your spine.

"It's all for you, not even your brother can wet me like that, just you, darling." you confessed her, it was the truth, you never wanted her brother, you always wanted her.

"What do I have to do?" she looked at you, so thirsty and hungrily.

"Lick me." you lips were part as you sighd for air.

Thérèse stick out her tongue to lick the entire length of your pussy, her inexperienced turned you one, now she can be your little fucktoy, to teach her the way you like to be fuck, how and when, she's all you ever wanted.

"Now suck there," you pointed your clit, "Mhm yes, just like that, darling." you praised her and saw how she shiver at that.

She sucked and licked you with such devotion, making you weter. Your hand went to her hair, gently pulling it to you, her nose rubbing your clit as her tongue was circling your entrance.

"Yes baby, so good, now put two fingers inside, just like you did with you, okay?" you were desperate at this point, she was pretty slow to your like, but you know she would learn fast.

Thérèse enter two fingers inside you shyly, asking herself if that was okay, but she kept going in and out of you.

"Is this good?" she finally asked you, looking at you with her mouth covered in your juices, making her prettier if that was possible.

"Yes, dear, so good, your brother couldn't do that to me, not even me." she smirked proudly going faster because of her confidence.

Your head fell back, hitting the wall letting out a groan at the hit. You rock you hips at her hand, reaching another sweet spot inside you.

"Oh fuck, Thérèse?" you looked back at her.

"Yes?"

"Curl them." she furrowed her eyebrows and you make the movement with your own fingers, "fucking god, yes, like that, keep going."

You felt your walls clenching around her, you were so close, she was pretty good to be the first time she touched a women.

"I'm gonna cum, darling, suck as you did before." you told her and she went directly to your clit.

You couldn't take it the pressure on your lower stomach anymore and cummed all over her fingers, she took them out and move her head to rest it on your thigh. You were recovering, panting for air with your lips part letting out little whimpers.

"You did so good, Thérèse," you hand caresses her cheek, "give me your hand."

You hold her wrist, taking the wet fingers to your lips, licking them clean, sucking and swirling your tongue between them, she moaned at the sensation.

"Now come here," you pat your lap for her to straddle it, she was now sitting on top of you. "I'm gonna make you feel good, is that okay?"

"Yes, please, Y/N," she practically begged you.

""Mhm are you frustrated?" your hand was running her thigh, noticing the goosebumps in her skin.

"Yes,"

"And you want me to touch you like you did?" you cupped her pussy, feeling her wetness.

"Please," she grind on your hand, searching for some friction.

You shove two fingers inside her, but not moving them, watching her growing desperate.

"Ride them." you bit your lip as Thérèse began to move against your hand, her clit was rubbing with your palm.

You had to put your hand on her mouth because of her loud moans. You curled your fingers and she rolled her eyes, she'd never felt thay kind of pleasure.

You started to meet her thrust, going harder on her, looking at the tears forming in the corner of her eyes. She was so overwhelmed. Her walls clenched around your fingers, knowing that she's gonna cum in any time. She looked at you with pleading eyes and you nod, giving her permission to cum.

She explode in your hand, feeling more wetness dripping onto your thighs, squirting all over you as you kept working through her climax. She opened her eyes wide as you still move your fingers.

You took your hand out of her mouth to claim her lips, a rough yet passionte kiss started, she kissed you a little sloppy because of her fuzzy state of mind. Pushing her to another orgasm, she was trembling on top of you, squeezing her thighs as you rub her clit with your thumb. Separating for the lack of air, she felt on you tired, she never felt this and now she wanted more.

"You did so good, darling." you take your fingers out of her, liking them again.

"I like our secret." she giggled.

"I do too." you were stroking her hair, "You know, I saw you that day, that's why I stay there, for you to see me." She opened her eyes wide.

"Y-you saw m-me?" she tried to cover herself.

"Yes, and I loved every second."

#therese raquin #therese raquin smut #wanda maximoff #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen smut #wanda maximoff smut #lizzie olsen #in secret #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen x female reader #elizabeth olsen gifs #elizabeth olsen imagine

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fortheloveofwonderland · 4 months

Text

Me & You & Everyone We Know | Chapter 17 | S.R

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Chapter Summary - Spencer struggles with the side effects of his medication before his worlds collide. Secrets and feelings come rushing to the surface causing Spencer to battle with his alcoholism.

Pairing - Single Dad! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending, smut minors DNI.

Warnings - antidepressant side effects, erectile dysfunction, making out, brief mention of oral (fem! Receiving), talk of therapy, Spencer struggles with his drinking, mentions of failed masturbation, swearing, drinking, break ups.

WC - 5.8k

Chapter 17 - Someone You Loved

I’m going under and this time I fear there's no one to save me,

This all or nothing really got a way of driving me crazy.

I need somebody to heal,

Somebody to know,

Somebody to have,

Somebody to hold.

It's easy to say,

But it's never the same,

I guess I kinda liked the way you numbed all the pain.

“I swear this has nothing to do with you.” Spencer tried to insist, a look of mortification on his face.

Blair pulled the sheets up around her naked body, looking as uncomfortable as Spencer did.

“I mean, I guess you wouldn’t tell me if it was.” She chewed on her bottom lip.

The girls left for California yesterday and tonight Spencer had taken Blair to the movies before they’d ventured back to his house.

The moment they’d walked through the door things had grown hot and heavy, a trail of clothes left between the front door and his bedroom.

They made out fiercely for some time but nothing was happening for Spencer. Even once she was naked and he pawed at her body, there was no movement downstairs.

He’d gone down on her in the hopes it would awaken his lifeless cock. Usually it would have worked, worshipping a woman with his tongue was one of his most favourite activities.

But even still, his cock would not cooperate.

Eventually Blair had shied away, clearly thinking his dicks lack of interest was her fault.

“Goddamnit,” he shook his head as the realisation washed over him. “It’s my meds.”

“Meds?” Blair tentatively asked.

Spencer sighed, his whole body heaving as he did so. This wasn’t how he wanted to tell her about this, he wasn’t sure he planned on telling her at all if truth be told.

“When you looked after the girls for me last week, I didn’t have a work thing. I had my first therapy session.” He would so much rather have this conversation with more clothes on.

Blair shuffled up in the bed, keeping the sheet pulled tightly around her as she lent against the pillows.

“Why did you lie to me?” She looked at him curiously.

“We’d be on one date, I didn’t want to freak you out. My doctor prescribed me antidepressants. I’ve been taking them for almost a week and she said within a week I might start noticing some side effects. One of which being…”

“Erectile dysfunction.” Blair fielded when he trailed off.

He pulled face and nodded, raking his fingers through his messy hair.

“It won’t last forever. I did some research. Supposedly within fourteen days I should start to see the side effects wear off.” He hung his head.

“You could have told me,” she placed her hand on his arm. “It’s ok Spencer. There’s nothing wrong with admitting you need a little help.”

“I just didn’t want you to think I was some kind of basket case.” He glanced at her.

“I don’t.” She insisted, smiling softly at him. “But from now on you’re going to need to be honest with me ok?”

“You’re not leaving?”

“Why would I leave?”

“Because…” he trailed off, nodding his head in the direction of his crotch.

“I can wait.” She squeezed his arm. “And I didn’t exactly come away empty handed in this situation.”

“No, you did not.” That was just me.

“So no more secrets?”

“There is one more thing I should tell you,” He shuffled in the bed so he could get a better look at her. “On our date I didn’t drink. And that’s because I’ve recently quit drinking.”

She narrowed her eyes on him, scrutinising him. It made him feel uncomfortable.

“You had a problem?” Her eyebrows knitted together.

“I guess. I’ve been drinking a lot since my wife left, only when my kids aren’t home. I’ve battled addiction once before, a long time ago and I didn’t want it to get to that point again. So I’ve quit drinking all together.” He pursed his lips, waiting for her reaction.

“And you didn’t tell me because of what I told you about my ex.” She nodded.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “There are a lot of men out there who have way less issues than me, way less complications. I would totally understand if you wanted to walk away before this gets serious.”

Her expression was curious as she looked at him, lip twitching slightly at the corner. She took hold of his hand in hers.

“Why would I want to walk away?” Her smile grew until it encompassed her face.

“So many reasons.” He laughed but Blair leaned in and kissed him.

“I like you Spencer, you aren’t going to scare me away so easily.” She mumbled against his lips.

“Good to know,” he cupped her face, placing a kiss on her forehead.

“Before I forget, my gallery is having this big, fancy show on Tuesday night. I wondered if you wanted to come? I’ll be working up until the show starts and I might have to do some running around during the night but for the most part I should be able to enjoy it with you.”

“I’m pretty good with my own company so even if you do need to run off I can take care of myself.” He smiled at her.

“So that’s a yes?” Her eyes sparkled.

“Yes, I’d love to come.” He kissed her again and rolled her back to the mattress, climbing on top of her.

She giggled into the kiss, wrapping her arms around him.

“What are you doing?” She laughed, his lips trailing down her neck towards her collarbones.

“Just because I can’t exactly show it right now, doesn’t mean for a second that I don’t love being between your legs.” He spoke against her skin and she moaned at his words.

His lips continued lower and her fingers threaded into his messy locks when he started kissing across the planes of her stomach. Soon his head was dipping lower and Blair’s eyes rolled back in her head.

Spencer was only mildly disappointed when he still couldn’t get it up.

***

You smiled sleepily as Sam strolled back in the room, wearing nothing but a pair of boxers and carrying two glasses of water. He got back into bed and handed you one, which you sipped before setting on the nightstand.

“I think I’m going to sleep for a week.” Your head flopped to your pillow.

“Me too,” he chuckled, laying down to face you. “But I have to say, I very much enjoyed skipping our dinner plans for this.”

“Agreed.” Your eyes started to flutter closed.

You’d spent the whole evening in bed together, exploring each other’s body and finding new ways to get each other off. It had been fun but you were still yearning for more, for someone else.

Sam was good in bed, great really. But he couldn’t make you come with the ease in which Spencer always had. Sometimes it didn’t even seem as though Spencer needed to try.

You hadn’t meant to think about him, but at some point during the night he’d just slipped to the forefront of your mind and once he was there, you couldn’t get rid of him.

It was good with Sam but there was something missing. That spark of passion, that desperation. Hopefully one day you’d be able to stop thinking about your ex, but today certainly wasn’t that day.

“Before you fall asleep,” Sam spoke, tucking your hair gently behind your ear. “A guy at work’s wife is an up and coming artist and she’s showing in some gallery in the district on Tuesday night. He got us all tickets and I’ve got a plus one.”

“An art show?” You opened your eyes.

“Yep. Super fancy apparently.” He smiled at you.

“That sounds amazing. Let’s do it.” You pulled him close by his broad shoulder and kissed him.

“Great, I can’t wait.” He settled down and pulled you into his arms.

Your head found purchase on his chest and you tried to focus on the rhythmic beating of his heart. He held you close, placing sporadic kisses on the top of your head.

Maybe one day you would grow to love him. If you could learn how to stop loving Spencer first.

***

The girls called everyday to regale Spencer with stories from California. And despite herself, Daisy was actually having a lot of fun.

It at least allowed Spencer to worry less about one aspect of his life.

He dressed in his best suit, crisp white button down, black jacket and slacks paired with a black tie. He even passed on his trusty converse and went with his black dress shoes instead.

He shaved, slicked his hair back off of his face in the hopes it wouldn’t look so messy. He spritzed a little of an old bottle of cologne he found in the back of the bathroom cabinet.

Forgoing his satchel he slipped his keys, phone and wallet in his pocket along with the art show invite.

Blair was already at the gallery setting up and she was meeting him there. And for some reason Spencer was incredibly nervous.

It occurred to him that there would be alcohol at this event and he wasn’t sure he had the strength to be around that much temptation.

He’d had his second therapy session this morning and spoken to Doctor Sanchez about it at length.

He felt better for talking about it but he was still concerned. Maybe he’d need a meeting again soon, he was certainly craving something to take the edge off.

It didn’t help being alone in his stupidly large house. The girls had been gone for four days, the longest he’d been on his own in this house for.

It was too quiet all the time, too big and empty and lonely. Honestly he couldn’t wait for them to come home.

He had Taco he supposed but that somehow made the situation more depressing.

At Luke’s instruction Spencer had installed a child gate at the bottom of his stairs to stop Taco having the run of the house. The dog needed boundaries and thus he was now only allowed on the ground floor, something Spencer was glad about but knew his kids wouldn’t be.

Luke advised to try and leave him home on his own more and not let him get used to kennels. He told him to shut Taco in the kitchen when he went out, so as to limit any destruction he may cause.

Spencer had moved the dog's bed into the kitchen, in the corner next to the fridge. Luke told him to ensure he had food and plenty of water and even leave a couple of toys out for him to play with when he was bored, hopefully to stop him attacking anything that didn’t belong to him.

So far Taco had not had another rampage during the small windows Spencer left him alone. Luke’s advice seemed to be working and he wasn’t sure why he was surprised about that, clearly Luke knew what he was doing.

Tomorrow Luke was coming over and they were going to take Taco to an enclosed dog park so Spencer could start to train him off lead around other dogs. Aside from Roxy, Taco was not very good with other dogs, usually hiding behind Spencer when one came near. Roxy was the exception to his rule.

He’d also, somewhat reluctantly, talked to his Doctor about his problem with the meds. He really did not enjoy talking about the fact he couldn’t get hard but it was starting to get on his nerves.

He’d spent a lot of time the past few days trying to masturbate. Trying and failing miserably. At best he’d managed to get a semi, but even when he did it didn’t last long before he was flaccid again.

He felt like he was being betrayed by his own anatomy, like it had turned against him. Since he was a teenager and discovering self pleasure for the first time, Spencer had never once had a problem getting it up.

Doctor Sanchez assured him those side effects would lessen over time and unfortunately he needed to exercise patience. He didn’t feel particularly patient though. He just wanted to have a goddamn orgasm.

He had a half hour until the gallery opened and so he shut Taco in the kitchen, bid him adieu and left the house, trying to leave thoughts of that nature at home.

***

You cautiously pushed open the door of the chic looking art gallery, handing your invite over to the man on the door. You swallowed nervously and stepped inside.

It was already packed, although admittedly you were running a little late. Today was the deadline for your final thesis and you’d used every available minute you could to perfect it.

If all went well you could have your doctorate in a few months but you didn’t want to get ahead of yourself. You were using tonight as an excuse to get out of your head and just have some fun.

You spotted Sam with ease, at six foot five he towered over the crowds. He saw you too and grinned wildly at you, making a beeline for you.

“Holy shit,” he gasped, eyes grazing up and down your body. “You look phenomenal.”

You felt your cheeks redden and you rolled your lip between your teeth. You’d found the dress in the back of your closet, you hadn’t had an excuse to wear it in years.

It was a black, one shoulder, floor length garment which hugged your curves in all the right places. It had a slit up one side, all the way to your thigh.

Sam looked much like the cat that got the cream.

“Thanks,” you shrugged. “You did say fancy.”

“I did say that. And you delivered.” He placed his hand on your lower back and kissed you gently.

He didn’t look so bad himself. You’d never seen him in a suit before and he looked devilishly handsome, even if the fabric of his jacket looked as though it struggled to contain his large biceps.

In another life, he could have been a football player, he certainly had the build for it. He played in high school but ended up following in his father’s footsteps and becoming a lawyer, a very well respected one at that.

“I want to show you off, is that ok?” He motioned you forward with his hand still on your back.

“I didn’t get this dressed up for nothing.” You smirked.

He picked up two champagne flutes from a passing waiter and handed you one before continuing to lead you forward towards the group of his work colleagues. You took a sip of your drink as you walked and accidentally nudged against someone.

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry.” The woman halted in her tracks, her large icy blue eyes full of apologies.

Her long dark hair was curled to frame her petite face. She wore a stunning satin blue dress that cut off at the knees and she held a clipboard under one arm.

“Don’t be, it was my fault.” You smiled at her.

Sam removed his hand from your back and nodded in the direction of his colleagues, wordlessly telling you to join him before he headed over.

“I think I was a little to blame, I’m getting a bit flustered.” She laughed lightly, a nice, easy sound as she motioned to the clipboard. “It’s my first big event.”

“You’re an artist?” You found yourself asking, this woman was extremely easy to talk to.

“Oh no,” she laughed again with a shake of her head. “I’m the manager here. Just making sure things are running smoothly before I can enjoy my night. I think my date would appreciate it, he’s looking a little like a spare part…I’m sorry I have no idea why I’m telling you all of this.”

“It’s fine.” You smiled at her, hoping to calm her. “For the record this place looks great. I mean I don’t know much about art shows but it looks like it's going pretty well.”

“Thank you, even if you don’t know what you’re talking about that means a lot.” She laughed yet again before holding her hand out. “I’m Blair.”

“Y/N.” You shook her hand.

“Nice to meet you. Perhaps once things have calmed down we can have a drink.” Blair shrugged awkwardly.

“I’d like that.” You nodded. “Come find me when you have a chance.”

Blair left you with a nod of agreement before she carried on with her rounds. You took a breath and sidled up to Sam who was laughing heartily at something one of his friends had said.

When he felt you at his side he was quick to put his arm around you, looking at you with pride swelling in his chest.

“Everyone, this is my gorgeous date, Y/N.” He beamed. “Y/N, this is Sampson, Richards, Sinclair and Montgomery.”

“Hi,” you waved at the group. “It’s so nice to meet you all, Sam has told me so much about all of you.”

You fell into conversation with the group, nuzzling against Sam’s side, watching him converse with these men. He was clearly in his element, a side of him coming out you hadn’t seen before.

He was more confident, he laughed in a way you’d never heard him laugh before. Perhaps it was the kind of fake laugh he used around colleagues, a persona he’d created to fit in with the other lawyers at his firm.

You mostly stayed silent, only speaking if someone asked you a direct question. The more time you spent with Sam and his work friends, the less you felt like you fit into his world.

When it was just the two of you things were wonderful, but after seeing him tonight with his colleagues you weren’t sure you liked this side of him. He was a little smarmy, making inappropriate jokes just to fit in with the other men. This wasn’t the Sam you’d known in college, and it wasn’t the Sam you’d gotten reacquainted with recently.

You knew it was probably just an act but that still didn’t mean you liked it. And perhaps all those doubts you’d had about him in the back of your mind were coming to the surface all at once and flooding your senses.

But you were sure of one thing. As you stood there like some kind of trophy on his arm, you knew you and Sam had no future together. It was possible after tonight you wouldn’t even have a tomorrow.

***

Spencer made the rounds, eyeing each of the pieces of art hanging on the stark white walls in slight confusion. He understood that art was subjective but he did not understand any of these paintings.

Art had never been his thing. He had a few pieces in his home but they had been Maeve’s decorating choice not his.

Maybe if Blair would stop running around like a headless chicken for two minutes she could explain some of this stuff to him. Or better yet maybe they could make out in the corner instead.

He tried to keep his head down and ignore the near constant passing trays of champagne. He would give his right arm for a drink right about now, even if only to stem his boredom.

After taking in the artwork he settled over by a back wall, slowly sipping a glass of water. He wanted to go home, being alone with his dog had to be better than being alone in a crowded room.

Time passed painfully slowly, like it may have actually stopped altogether. This was not quite the night Spencer had in mind.

It was well over an hour since he’d arrived when Blair, in a blur of blue satin, headed his way. Her clipboard was gone, and he perked up.

“Are you done with work now? At the risk of sounding like Lily, I’m so bored.” He held his arms open for her and she embraced him, giving him a chaste kiss.

“I think so.” She smiled guiltily. “I’m sorry I dragged you here.”

“I don’t mind being dragged places as long as I actually get to spend time with you.”

“I’m all yours now, I swear.” She stroked his cheek. “Have I told you how handsome you look tonight?”

“It was implied.” He smirked. “You look absolutely incredible.”

“I don’t scrub up half bad, do I?” She giggled.

“You most certainly do not.”

“I met this woman earlier. She looked almost as out of place as you do and I wanted to find her, make sure she was alright.”

“You just can’t turn off that mom-brain can you?” He teased, kissing her cheek. “Let’s go.”

“You’re sure? I’m sorry, I know this isn’t the night you had planned.” She pouted her apology.

“It’s fine, it’s cute that you care so much.”

“I mean I wouldn’t take in stray dogs like some people.”

“I’d like to see you try and say no to my girls. Honestly it’s impossible. Those damn little pleading eyes and when they pout it rips me apart.” He held his hand to his chest.

“You’re a softy.” Blair teased, slipping her hand in his and forcibly removing him from where he’d been leaning against the wall.

He pulled a face, slightly wounded by her words. He knew she hadn’t meant them in the way he’d taken them but he couldn’t help find the second meaning to it.

Clearly she noticed him tense and she looked at him, quickly realising her error.

“Not like that. I’m sorry I didn’t mean…” she trailed off and Spencer filled in the blanks in his head.

You didn’t mean to reference the fact I can’t get a goddamn erection.

“I know you didn’t.” He tried to shake it off. “Just touched a nerve.”

“I’m sorry. Poor choice of words.” She squeezed his hand.

“It’s fine, it’s just a sensitive topic.”

“It’s still not…?”

“Cooperating? No.” He shook his head.

“I mean I’m kinda glad it wasn’t just me.” She shrugged.

“Trust me it is not just you.” He sighed. “But I would really rather not be talking about my sexual problems right now.”

“Of course. Let’s go mingle shall we?” She squeezed his hand again.

“Sure.” He nodded, swallowing down his embarrassment.

He let Blair lead him through the crowds, talked amicably to people she was trying to schmooze into buying the very expensive artwork.

Spencer felt tense, tenser than he had already felt now his erectile issues were playing on his mind again.

If he couldn’t even muster a little excitement seeing Blair in that sinfully tight dress, he knew he was fucked.

On top of everything else this was literally the last thing he needed to be dealing with. He already had two kids who barely listened to him, he didn’t need the same treatment from his dick.

Life was unusually cruel. But it was about to get a whole lot crueller.

***

After an hour of listening to Sam and his lawyer friends you were so ready for this night to be over.

You’d consumed three glasses of champagne but you didn’t feel the nice buzz you were hoping for. You kept checking the time on your phone, praying for this night to end so you could leave.

And you were sure it would be you and Sam’s last date.

Sure he was lovely and sweet when it was just the two of you but you didn’t like this man he’d become tonight. If you continued to date there would inevitably be more nights like this with colleagues and you weren’t prepared to sign up for that.

When his friends left the two of you alone finally tearing themselves away to at least pretend to look at the artwork, you breathed a sigh of relief.

“Are you ok? You’ve been really quiet tonight.” Sam asked once you were on your own.

“I guess I’m just not feeling all that well. Do you mind if we go?”

“Of course not. I’ll take you home.” He smiled, leaning in and kissing your cheek.

For a moment the rest of the night melted away and Sam was the same man you started to develop feelings for. But you had to remind yourself it wouldn’t always be like this and you knew you had to get out before things got too serious.

He placed his hand once again on your lower back and started steering you towards the door. As you were weaving in and out people to the front of the gallery, you heard someone call your name.

“Y/N! I’ve been looking for you.”

You turned slowly on your heels, recognising Blair’s dulcet tone. You made eye contact with her and smiled briefly before you noticed the man standing at her side, holding her hand.

Your eyes leisurely moved from Blair’s hand interlocked with another much larger one, up the slim frame of the man who the hand belonged to. When they landed on his face you felt your chest instantly tighten, and all the air left your lungs at lightning speed.

Spencer’s lips parted a little and you saw the way he sucked in a deep breath. But to his credit his expression didn’t change all that much.

Time seemed to stand still and Blair and Sam momentarily slipped away as the two of you stared at each other. You didn’t miss the way his eyes cast up and down your body, taking in the sight of you in that dress.

Spencer didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when he felt the telltale stirring in his crotch seeing you in that goddamn dress. It wasn’t much, but it was the most his cock had reacted in over a week.

Blair and Sam both exchanged a look before she glanced back at you and Spencer, seemingly lost somewhere in your own world.

“Hi Y/N,” he finally spoke, his voice a little gruff.

“Hi Spencer.” You replied, swallowing thickly.

“You know each other?” Blair’s voice snapped you both out of the stare off and you looked at her wide eyed.

“Uh, yeah.” You shrugged. “I guess. Uh…we were just leaving so…”

“Oh no, don’t leave!” Blair gasped, clearly not noticing the tension between you.

“You haven’t even introduced us.” Sam’s hand ran up and down your back.

“Right,” you nodded, your head was spinning and you thought you might throw up. “Sam, this is Spencer. Spencer, this is Sam.”

“And Blair you seem to already know.” Spencer narrowed his eyes on you.

“This is the woman I told you about. We met earlier.” Blair gave his hand a soft squeeze. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of you for a single moment.

“So introductions over. We really have to go. It was nice to meet you Blair. And it was…” you trailed off trying to find the right word. Nice to see him? No, that would be an outright lie. “I’ll see you.”

You grabbed Sam by the forearm and spun him around, starting to drag him towards the door before anyone could say anymore.

Spencer watched you go, heart in his throat. Seeing you had taken him by such surprise he honestly didn’t know how to react to it.

“So,” Blair’s tone forced him to look away from you and back at her. “I can only assume by how awkward that was, that she’s your ex-wife? I thought she was in California?”

“That’s not my ex-wife.” He shook his head, only then realising he’d never said Maeve’s name in front of Blair. “But she is an ex. We dated for a few months before I met you but it ended terribly.”

“I can tell.” Blair rolled her eyes, freeing her hand from his. “Another secret you kept from me. We talked about dating history Spencer, you never once mentioned her.”

“I know.” He shrugged. “I don’t have any excuses for that. I just wasn’t ready to talk about her.”

“I don’t like being lied to, Spencer and I hate being blindsided. You need to take a breath, figure out what it is you want. I’m not looking to be messed around, I’ve been there before. I like you and if I’m the person you want to be with I’m all in. But quite frankly, I don’t want to compete with Y/N and your ex-wife.” Blair folded her arms across her chest.

“That’s fair.” He nodded. “I’m sorry. I guess I should go. I just need some time to think, ok? But I’ll call you.”

“Don’t,” she shook her head. “Not unless I’m the one you’re choosing.”

With that she turned away and weaved between people until she was out of sight. Spencer felt a led weight emerge in his chest as he forced himself to leave. He shoved open the gallery door and stepped onto the dark street, briefly glancing around to see if you might still be here but came up short.

He rolled his lip violently between his teeth. The only thing he could focus on was his desperate need for a drink. He pushed everything else aside and started down the street in the direction of the nearest bar.

***

You and Sam walked in silence for a few blocks, your arms wrapped around yourself and his hands in his pockets. The silence was deafening. You wanted to say something to alleviate the discomfort but had no idea what to say.

Eventually you heard Sam’s footsteps slowing until he stopped all together. You halted your movements too and faced him.

“So that’s the professor?” He dove straight in.

“Was it that obvious?” You hugged your arms tighter around yourself.

“Anyone within a five block radius could see the way he was undressing you with his eyes.” Sam scoffed.

“He was not.” You rolled your eyes.

“Trust me Y/N, I have done the same thing to you enough tonight to know that look. And it wasn’t just the fact he was undressing you with his eyes, it was that it was clear he knew exactly what you look like under that dress.” He took his hands out of his pocket and folded his arms across his chest.

“We both have exes, Sam.” You shrugged in frustration.

“Yes, we do.” He agreed. “But I’m not still in love with any of mine.”

You felt tears brimming in your eyes and you tried to blink them back.

“There really isn’t any point in me lying to you, Sam. Yes I still have feelings for Spencer. It was recent and I guess I didn’t really give myself a chance to get over him before we started dating.” You sniffed.

“Well here’s your chance.” He spat.

“What do you mean?” You frowned at him.

“You can have all the time in the world to get over him Y/N because I’m out. I’m done.” He dropped his arms to his sides.

“Sam, don’t say that.” You took a step closer to him but he shook his head.

“I’m not looking to be a rebound, Y/N. I’ve been crazy about you since college. I always thought the reason I never settled down was because of you. I couldn’t believe my luck when I bumped into you again, it felt like fate or something. But I don’t want to be with someone who wants to be with someone else.” He ran his fingers through his hair and started pacing the sidewalk.

You had a horrible feeling of deja vu, except you were Sam and Spencer was you. It took you back to the day on the front steps of your building after you’d heard Spencer confess his feelings for his ex-wife.

What Sam was saying felt so reminiscent of what you’d told Spencer that day.

I think you need to deal with whatever residual emotions you’ve been harbouring for her before you jump into something else. I don’t want to be someone’s second choice, Spencer.

Right now you couldn’t even begin to unpack how much it hurt that instead of dealing with his feelings for Maeve, he’d found someone else. Someone beautiful with electric eyes and a heart warming laugh.

Someone who wasn’t you.

You swallowed, understanding exactly where Sam was coming from and knowing you couldn’t argue with him. It wasn’t fair on him, it wasn’t fair on you.

“You’re right. It’s not fair on you, I really am sorry.” Your first tear fell.

“So I am.” He sighed. “So am I.”

***

He sat at the bar staring down into the glass of scotch. It had remained untouched since the bartender placed it in front of him and the ice cubes had started to melt.

In the last twenty minutes he’d typed out three different text messages to you.

📱 Y/N, it was really good to see you tonight. I hope everything is well with you. Enjoy the rest of your summer.

📱 Y/N, can we talk? I would really like to talk to you, so maybe you can meet me for a drink? I’m at Dooley’s near the art gallery. Please come and meet me.

And finally -

📱 Y/N, I miss you so fucking much. Seeing you tonight was like a jolt of electricity. I’ve been an idiot. I love you, I love you so much. Please say you still love me too.

So far he had not sent a single one, which was probably for the best. Instead he continued to stare down into the taunting drink and contemplated throwing away his newfound sobriety in lieu of getting blind drunk just to take some of his pain away.

His life was just one fuck up after another recently and no matter how hard he tried to better himself he kept stumbling over each new hurdle.

He pulled out his phone again and opened the photos app. His phone was old and the images were grainy but he needed a reminder of why he needed to stay sober.

He pulled up a recent picture of Daisy and Lily, Taco cradled in the younger girl's lap as they smiled brightly for the camera.

A tear crept from his eye. He missed them so much. He wished they were here, wished he could hold them, to feel tethered to them in order to stop himself from throwing his life away at the bottom of a bottle.

It was too late to call but he wished he could hear their voices, have them pull him back from the brink.

Maybe he should call Tara.

Chances were she was working and if she wasn’t she’d no doubt be at home in bed at this hour.

He didn’t want to burden her, but he could really use a meeting right now and he certainly wasn’t strong enough to go on his own.

He pulled up his contacts and located her number. His thumb hovered above it for a moment or two before he slammed the device back on the bar counter.

Then he picked up the glass and downed the scotch in one. And then he quickly ordered another.

@foxy-eva @kbakery @chrissyflo3 @simxican @aysixdy @givemeth @loonalockley @redbulldinner @derekm24 @pinkiceee-prose @werewolfbansheelove @mindbelova @andiebeaword @dreatine @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @thebloomingeagle

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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blerb-f1 · 6 months

Text

" Cooked Australian"

Oscar Piastri x trad goth!reader

Qatar left Oscar quite dead but at least a eery kind doctor is there to revive him

“Haaaa” Oscar sighed, laying down on the couch in his driver’s room. Qatar was an absolute drain of a race and Lando’s pushing at the end surely didn’t help his wellbeing. His Legs felt weak and wobbly as he hobbled back into the room. He fell onto the ground, air spinning. Leaving a voice message on some group was all he could muster, laying on the ground.

As little ducks started spinning in the air above him, the door opened after a short knock. He saw a person step in, clad in fully black clothes. Some kind of goth. White Makeup melting off her face as she got on her knees next to him.

“I’m Y/N, Oscar. I’m a registered Doctor, I'll help you, okay? The team sent me. I’ll put you into an ice bath, for that I need to take off your clothes. Is that fine?”

Oscar nodded weakly. He really didn’t care about being seen. All he could think of was relief.

He felt a cool towel being placed on his head and water gurgling into a plastic basin. Shortly after he felt his race suit being pulled off, then his fireproof. The cold air was almost uncomfortable on his steaming skin.

“I’ll wipe you down first, okay? So that you won’t get flashed by the cold.” the voice said, her voice having a comforting melody to it. He flinched under the cold cloth passing over his skin, but it had turned into relief white soon.

“I need you to tense up now. That makes lifting you easier.”

Oscar did as asked, tensing his worn muscles as much as he could manage. The woman grabbed him before letting him sink into the water. Once again, big flinch.

The water bit at his skin as more sweat poured over his head, burning his sensitive skin. “Close your eyes please.”

Cold water brushed over his head, he felt his hair being gone through and then a headband pushed it up. A soft towel cleaning his face again.

“Have a drink please”

The usual driver's straw hit his lips and he gingerly drank from it. The water tasted disgusting, probably riddled with things good for the body.

Oscar fully leaned back against the plastic tub, just sipping the water offered to him. Finally his conscience started returning to him as he felt the Lady -Y/N- being her name, take his pulse.

He stared up at her, the white and black make-up now fully smudged and half run off from all the water she had handled. The jet black hair had started sticking together and her black clothes equally wet.

“Are you feeling a bit better?” she asked him, worried in her eyes.

“...Yeah” he weekly voiced, a smile crossing his face at her big panda eyes.

“hm?” she asked. “What's making you smile?”

“Your makeup. It's gone.” Oscar stated quickly.

She fumbled around in her handbag, getting out a beautiful classic looking mirror, eyeing her appearance. “I look like garbage. Not like you’re in better shape though.” She twisted the mirror for him to see his reflection.

Red face, swollen and exhausted. His hair was pushed up with a fluffy cat eared headband. The water made a splashing noise as she put a little duck in there before grabbing back her mirror and some wipes. Strong wipes and water splashes helped take off her makeup . An equally exhausted face appeared underneath the strong mask covering it.

“So you’re not alone. I’m just outside the room. Try not to drown please. I'll report to the team. They're worried about you, allright.”

Oscar splished around in the Water before finally feeling good enough to step out. He gently stepped out, falling back on his lounge chair. The stack of towels was already prepared as he started drying himself off, grabbing fresh clothes from his drawers. Being dressed again, he flopped back onto the chair, eyeing the room. The entire floor was covered in water and wet towels, his racesuit buried in a big stack of orange Frotte. Oscar returned to sipping his water, watching the rubber duck spin in circles as he saw the door open again.

Y/N gasped. “Who said you could walk yourself? Did you get hurt?!”

“No” was his simple factual statement.

Y/N looked around the room, grabbing a new bottle from the deep bottoms of her leather coat. “Here, drink this instead. Tastes better.” She pushed his special straw in the new bottle, handing it over. Oscar took a sip. It did taste better.

Y/N had brought a laundry basket in which she threw the towels and his sweaty clothes before pushing it out of the door.

She then lifted the storage bin that posed as his bath, letting the water down the drain. A last towel served as a mop to reduce the room's slipping hazard.

The woman looked quite proud of her work as she placed her hands on her hips, procuring her bag again and disappearing in his bathroom. A while later she re-emerged , dressed in a fresh change of equally black clothes and new , but simpler, makeup applied on her face.

“Ready to show yourself to the Team Oscar?”

He nodded. No point in dilly-dallying, he’d have to go outside either way.

supported by Y/N’s Arm, he stepped outside. The bright lights being aggressive on his still bloodshot eyes.

The team was looking up with nervous expressions. Apparently, they were all quite worried.

‘Quite a surprise’, Oscar thought. He was sure they’d worry about Lando more, him being their Driver 1 but apparently, no. Zack Brown was quick to approach him, checking his appearance up and down with hawklike, watchful eyes. With his Hand patting Oscar's Shoulder, he pulled him into a warm, comfortable hug.

“You did well Oscar.”

Oscar looked up at Zack, at Lando whose Face was trying to hide his own disappointment and at all the mechanics that had worked so hard the season. While this surely wasn’t a win, nonetheless it was something many drivers had never reached in their entire life. A little droplet escaped his eyes, quickly hiding it behind his sleeve. One thing confused him however, where exactly did Y/N come from?

Zack answered as if he could read his thoughts. “Good that Y/N was already here, otherwise we would have had to drag you to the medical center but the cameras were like Hyenas today. They caught Lance and Alex at some very unfortunate angles.”

“Why was Y/N here?”

“She’s currently in training as Replacement for Dr. Ian Roberts. He feels like his body isn’t that movable anymore so he wants to relocate towards research and Development for Driver Security. The FIA held open tests. We told you about them, don't you remember?”

Oscar tried his hardest to remember but that mention must have escaped him.

“Of course you dont. “ siggghhh “Anyway, Y/N was the one that passed the tryouts so she’s currently being trained by Dr. Roberts himself. While she doesn’t have as much experience in the medical field as him, the knowledge required for this position is way too specialized anyway to be learned in a normal Hospital.”

Y/N nodded as if agreeing with the Statement, before adding:”Theoretically today was just my first look at the job. First thing I have to do besides learning about Drivers Injuries is getting used to the fast driving. Alan has been doing some rounds around Qatar with me. I don't know how you endure that at those speeds. I had a good vomit into a flower Basket the second he stopped the Medical Car.” She chuckled before tugging her Hair back. “The fastest I've ever gone was 130kmh and my little Hyundai felt like it was exploding. “

“I could take you for a spin if you’d like. Maybe that will help you get used to it?”

Oscar’s breath hiked. Had he actually said that loudly? That was just an intrusive thought, how could he just- “Wait some time, Cowboy. At least until you’re not looking like the walking dead anymore.”

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

*ping*

Oscar had spent the last three days resting in his UK Apartment, just on standby after the drain that was Qatar. That is, until a Message by an unknown number appeared. He expected it to be another insane fan or some scam nigerian prince, willing to share his inheritance.

It was, however, neither of those.

> HII OSCAR > This is Y/N - Logan gave me your number after I checked on him! > I wanted- *message deleted* > i wanted to take you up on your offer!

Which offer had he made her again? Offer, Offer…OH JEEPERS A drive around a track.

*ping*

> Friends of Mine are at Snetterton today. > would that work for you?

Snetterton? Oscar did some quick calculations. It was early morning, the drive would take around 3 hours. 2 if he were to speed…

< Sure! I’ll see you at Snetterton!

Shit. That wasn’t one of his smartest moments, not by a long shot. Oscar quickly jumped in his bath, getting ready. He picked some clothes that looked appropriate while getting the swoop in his hair in order. Rushing outside, he grabbed his bag with a race suit and helmet - he might need it at a Race Track?-, dumping it onto the car's passenger seat while sliding into the Driver's Seat. “Google, Route to Snetterton Race Track.”

His McLaren Artuna had been fueled up to the brim, thankfully. Time to make a 3h track in 2 hours.

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

As he pulled into the Carpark, Oscar realized he had made a big mistake. This wasn’t the privately booked tracks he was used to, it was open track day. With many gearheads that were sure to recognise him. What had he done?

As Oscar pulled into a parking space (much better than Charles would have ever done!) his phone made a 'ping!' again.

> We’ve just arrived! Should we pick you up at your Car? < Yes please, i’m at E5. The Papaya McLaren > 😂 ofc > keep your sunglasses on, if you have them > My friends car is…embarrassing

Shortly after that message, with his sunglasses covering his face as he leaned against his car, he heard a horrible farty noise approach him.

‘Please don't be it. Please don't be it he prayed to himself. But Alas, his Luck has run out.

The car approaching him was a riced Golf V. Massive farty exhaust, fugly bodykit and an even more hideous paintjob covering the gullwing doors that were opening

Had he seen that correctly? Gullwing Doors.

He had, horrifyingly enough. He saw Y/N sitting in the Passenger Seat, her Hair teased up highly, Large Cat Eye Sunglasses hiding her expression. The white paint on her skin being lit up by the Cars ugly RGB Light-interieur. She had lifted her gloved hands to wave at him before lifting her long skirt to step out.

“I’m so glad we were able to find you! This is madness! So many people buzzing about"

Oscar looked around. Yeah, Madness. The McLaren Cap on his head, the McLaren car and the helmet he brought which had turned out to be his actual race helmet, would probably only strengthen this madness.

As he was about to disappear into his own mind, the horrible engine farts stopped and the driver stepped out. A young woman in Overalls, blond braid and equally large sunglasses.

She stretched her hand to shake. He took it.

“I’m Jessica, Y/N’s friend. You don’t have to hide your expression, we know how ugly this car is. I’m a mechanic and sadly the one paid to build this monstrosity.”

Osar let out a sigh of relief. He knew how clear his thoughts were on his face, not knowing how long he would have to disguise the disgust.

“Also, Y/N mentioned you being some kind of driver. I have no clue about Motorsports so don’t worry, I won't rat you out or something. All I care about is testing this fartcannon because the owner actually wants to go on track with it.”

“Have you invited me to try it then?”

“No, that’s Jessica’s Job. She’s insured if something were to go wrong. I’m not stopping you though if you want.”

Oscar eyed the fartcannon and a sense of morbid curiosity overcame him. Something in him wanted to know what this thing drove like.

“Give me the keys!”

As Oscar settled into the Driver’s Seat, he took note of the car's shift pattern, pulling out. He considered putting on his helmet in case of this shitbox falling apart but being smashed to small chunks appeared more appealing than being found alive but injured in it.

He pushed the Sunglasses higher on his nose. Gotta do at least something.

As he shifted up the gears, eye focused on the whimpering boost gauge and body concentrated on the fighting street tires. The other normal street cars looked in awe as this fast fartcannon flew by them. BMWs, Mercs and even some Porsches couldn't stand against this expertly built Ricer.

That was until he heard some controlled throat noises behind him. A short Glance in the rear-view Mirror revealed that Y/N was struggling to keep her breakfast down. As stopping wasn't allowed, Oscar tried his hardest to slowly and calmly drive back to the parking area.

A group of people that had seen this mad car had appeared to catch a glimpse of it but they were quickly stopped by Oscar who’d asked them where the toilets were.

While Jessica was away with Y/N, Oscar hid in the car to not be discovered. As the two women returned Sade just eyed the Car with massive disgust.

“I’m not getting in there again.” She stated clearly, trying to fix her rustled clothes.

At that moment, as if heaven sent, Jessica looked at her phone as a call came in. The owner wanted his car back, she would have to go home. YN would have to take a train home instead.

“I could drive you, '' Oscar offered. “It’ll be dark later. I wouldn't want you traveling alone in the dark”

YN appeared to consider her choices before finally coming to a conclusion.

“I’d appreciate you driving me. But first, we gotta finish a lap. A singular lap at least. I have to get used to this.”

Jessica bid her farewells, disappearing in the fartcannon, wondering how Y/N even got a position in Motorsport while getting Car Sick.

Oscar helped her into the Artura, settling into his own seat.

“I'll take it slow for the first lap”

Oscar did as promised, one slowish round of Snetterton with People curiously eying the car. This mostly being the fact that it was working, which most Artura didn't.

Then came a fast Lap. Y/N grabbed the doors tightly, Fear imminent though her painted face but success. No throwing up.

Wasn't that a start?

The young driver pulled his car back into the car park, curiously glancing at his passenger again. YN was looking a bit unsettled but much better than before, not that he could tell from her face color though. As he turned the engine off, Y/N leaned back, sighing loudly.

“I really didn’t consider that I might get sick at high speeds when I applied for this job.”

“Have you ever driven a car fast before, Y/N?” was Oscar's first proper question. “On a track or even a street?”

She appeared to actually think of an equally proper answer before turning to respond. “Not really.My little Hyundai gets to 130 kmh if i push it but that's above the speed limit. And on a Racetrack? On my own? Never."

Oscar unbuckled his seatbelt, swinging his legs out and opening the passenger door instead.

“You drive.” Y/N looked at him in Confusion, still getting into the driver's seat though.

“Why should I drive this car?” she simply asked.

“Why? Because this is a track. Being a passenger is one thing but driving yourself another. Maybe this will help you be less car sick.”

Y/N sat there in Oscar's Sitting position, not daring to touch anything on this car. “I can't drive this! It’s way too expensive! What if I bin it?”

“McLaren’s just gonna have to get me another then.”

“I don’t know how to drive an automatic!”

“Any idiot can drive an automatic.”

Y/N let out a sound of defeat before adjusting her seat according to Oscars Instructions, searching for the Key in the Ignition.

“How do I turn this on?”

“You don’t need your left leg. Right foot on the break, the start buttons right next to the wheel”

She did as told and the engine came alive with a loud hum.

“How do I put it in gear?”

“The D for dumbass button in the center console. Boy am I glad I reversed into this parking spot. Oh be careful, you have combined like 600hp more than your Hyundai so better be AHHHH”

The car shot forward as Y/N had engaged the gas pedal way too much, more akin to pushing a little three cylinder car than a V6 Hybrid.

“Now please”, Oscar continued, clutching whatever he could to stay alive, “P l e a s e be careful with the brakes. These will be much stronger than the old ass ones on your car. I don’t particularly possess the desire to die in Snetterton”

Y/N directed the Car onto the Track, curious eyes watching why this expensive car is so unstable. Oscar himself was less worried about the car itself and more about his own survival as Y/N had discovered the Joy of Speed. Colin McRae would have been proud of her as she started racing around at what was flat out speed to her, intimating Sunday Drivers by letting the engine howl up behind them or slowing down just to speed up and overtake.

As she finally pulled into the parking lot again, putting the Car into “Park” as instructed, he found himself feeling as tired as he did after Qatar. Was this how his parents felt when driving along with him back when he got his license?

“Oscar, the Cluster is rattling?”

“Oh yeah, it’s been like that the entire time, you were just distracted. These Arturas are notorious for breaking down. I was lowkey hoping you’d bin it so that I would get something more reliable.”

“I think McLaren would have sued me for killing their Car.”

"Nonsense. You saved me from becoming a cooked Australien back in Qatar. If they would have sued you, I'd have announced my move to Red Bull or something.”

“Oscar, it says … The display overheated?”

“I didn’t even know a Display could overheat. Maybe i’ll get my reliable pink Toyota Vitz now”

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

The next day Zack Brown found himself quite unhappy as he discovered a copy of ‘The Sun’ laid on his desk. The cover displayed his youngest Driver Oscar Piastri standing at the side of the road, next to him the new F1 Medic Y/N in her Darkest Sunday's Best and in the middle, a smoking, Papaya coloured McLaren Artura. Or to be even more specific, a burning one. As emphasized by the Fire Trucks closeby.

He angrily slammed down his cup of coffee before reading the title aloud. “McLaren Star Oscar Piastri caught having a Car BBQ along with a Clown doubling as Funeral Director”

As he took his breaths, deep breaths at that, he came to a single conclusion: While this situation was not great, at least he neither was the FIA and had to deal with Cooked Drivers in Qatar or the entire Aston Martin Social Media Team.

#f1 x reader #Oscar Piastri x reader #Oscar Piastri #blerb writes

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paracosmic-murdock · 8 months

Text

gold rush ; benedict bridgerton x reader (part two)

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

summary: after he found out the reason why you had been distancing from him, benedict decided he would do anything and everything to win you back. how unfortunate that he will not have it as easy as he firstly believed it to be.

warnings/tags: mutual pining, idiots in love, insane benedict bridgerton, married kate and anthony, platonic anthony bridgerton & reader, song: gold rush (taylor swift)

word count: 1.6K

❁ part 1 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

❁ mila's paracosm (main masterlist)

It was a whole new day, but for him it wasn't.

The thought of you being in love with him and him not being able to reciprocate your feelings, therefore, you hating him, was eating Benedict alive.

And the more he thought of it, the more he realized he had given you plenty of mixed signals throughout the years. His excitement every time he saw you? Asking you to dance at least twice every single ball? Painting portraits of you each and every time he could for all the assignments that required him to paint a woman? Buying you books every week? Mixed signals here and there because a man that does not love a woman doesn't do any of the things he has done for you since you became friends.

So he made a plan to get you to forgive him so you could be friends again.

One that began with him at your home.

One that didn't include seeing you and your parents chatting with an unknown man, who was, by the way, sitting so inappropriately close to you.

As he was about to leave, your mother's eyes landed on Benedict, and she said his name as she stood up.

He saw the way you tensed under his mention, but stood up nevertheless.

"Uh…" He cleared his throat. "My apologies, I did not mean to intrude. I shall return some other time."

"Nonsense, my dear!" your mother exclaimed. "Come on in, take a seat."

Benedict gave everyone an apologetic look and sat on the chair next to you.

"Good afternoon, Benedict. We have not seen you in quite a while here," your father noted. "Why is that? You have been missed."

He chuckled slightly. "Uh, the Academy has been quite time consuming as of late. More than I had anticipated, in fact. My apologies, that is why I came, for… a keep up."

"You do not have to have a reason to come visit, Benedict," your mother said. "Right, my darling?"

You looked up, an uncomfortable grin on your face. "That is right, Benedict…" you replied. "This is, uh… Lord Vikander. Lord Vikander, this is Mr. Bridgerton, a friend of the family."

"It is nice to meet you, Mr. Bridgerton." They shook hands.

"Likewise." Benedict agreed with his lips in a fine, fake line.

"Benedict, would you like to stay for dinner?"

"My apologies, Lord Y/L/N, but I am expected at home for dinner, I… I wish to speak to Y/N in private, actually."

"Of course." He nodded, making a gesture so you would take Benedict somewhere you could speak.

You obeyed, as expected, and walked next to him to your studio.

Benedict sighed looking around. All the things with his name that used to be in your studio were dead, gone, and buried. "Where are the…?"

"Somewhere I could not see them." you replied dryly.

"Whatever did I do?" he questioned, the patience in his eyes disappeared, distress replacing it. "I- I must know because I cannot live without you in my life."

"You should start getting used to it," you murmured. "Lord Vikander and I will be engaged to be married any time soon, and I shall move to Stockholm with him as his wife."

"Excuse me, what?"

You nodded. "I overheard him telling Papa and my brother that he had sent for his Mother's ring."

"Y/N, you… you cannot just marry and leave."

"Ben, this is the cycle of the life of a woman: once we are old enough, we become a pretty trophy for a man to win over. I have postponed it long enough and now it is time… Soon I will be too old for a fine gentleman to want me, so this is my all or nothing at all."

"But you cannot marry him and move to Sweden."

"I can, I will, and I have no other choice but to either way," you answered. "And please, return to your home. There is nothing left for us to talk about… This is not appropriate, especially with Lord Vikander waiting for me."

"Since when do you care for what is appropriate when it comes to you and me?"

"Since I lost hope," you confessed, looking anywhere but at his eyes. "Now, it is best if you leave."

"Benedict!"

He downed the bottle of whiskey that wasn't meant to be drunk that way before Anthony could reach him. "Brother!"

"Benedict, what is happening to you?!"

"This, Brother, is what a man who has lost hope looks like!" he exclaimed. "You shall see me in a circus by next month."

Anthony rolled his eyes. "What are you talking about?"

"She will marry that man," he answered, and Anthony's concern grew bigger at the sight of his brother weeping. "She will marry that man, move to Sweden, and not come back. She will not come back to me, I will never see her again… And I ran out of whiskey."

"What man?" He frowned.

"A Swedish lord who seems to be in love with her."

"Swedish? You mean Lord Vikander?"

"In the flesh," Benedict confirmed. "She says she has no other choice, but she does…"

"She does not have another choice, Brother. That is the wealthiest man in Sweden, someone who can provide for her, take good care of her. He is a good man, and if you do not love her, he is the best husband she could dream of."

"Whose side are you on?"

Anthony smirked, taking the empty bottle from his brother's hand. "Hers."

"I cannot let her go. I cannot lose her."

"There is nothing you can do, Ben," he said. "She was never yours to lose to begin with."

"But she could be."

"No, Benedict," He shook his head. "You do not love her so you must let her go. Perhaps one day you will get married or simply move to your property outside of London, and what will be of her? A single woman who renounced her suitor for her friend who could not even return her feelings? Let her go."

"I cannot, Anthony, she-"

"She will be better with Niklaus, brother, just…"

"You know him?" He asked, trying to seem careless.

"Y/N's brother, Niklaus, Simon, and I were close friends back in Oxford."

"He is friends with Nathaniel?"

"He is, and I did not know Niklaus was courting her, though I saw him last night at White's."

"He did not say a word about her?"

"No, and I did not ask."

Benedict sighed. "I will not let her go."

"You must," Anthony rolled his eyes. "Now, go to your room."

"Do not treat me like a kid, Anthony."

"But you are behaving like a stubborn child who does not want to let go of a toy someone borrowed! I hope to God you do not sabotage Y/N's engagement or else."

Benedict nodded, and Anthony knew he had to keep an eye on him.

Back at the Y/L/N Manor, you were cursing him and yourself.

Even your Father, ever so clueless of anything in regards of emotions and feelings, noticed that something was wrong as soon as you returned from your private conversation with Benedict.

It was midnight now, and you were sitting on the windowsill and looking outside, the Orion constellations bringing you memories of when you and Benedict were teenagers and he used to escape from his home so late at night and you to your home. You two would look at the stars until the sunrise hid them, and look at each other until your eyes were too tired to be kept open.

Two knocks on the door killed your reminiscing.

"Are you awake, my darling?"

You recognized your Papa's voice, so you stood up and opened the door.

"I apologize for being up so late, Papa. I just cannot fall asleep."

He shook his head in amusement. "Do not apologize, just talk to me and tell me what has got you so distressed."

"It is nothing, Papa."

"Does it have to do with Lord Vikander?"

"No, everything is alright."

"Benedict?"

The mere mention of his name made you break down. His expression softened and he opened his arms to receive you in a hug.

"I love him."

Your father stroked your hair lightly. "What is the problem? You do not have to marry Lord Vikander if you do not wish to, you can marry whoever you choose."

"But Ben doesn't want to marry me, Papa… If he wanted me, we would be married by now."

"How can you be so sure, my darling?" he asked, making you look him in the eyes. "I was so in love with your mother when we were your age, but I had promised myself I would enjoy the life of a bachelor as long as I could… It took me long enough to admit to myself how much I loved your mother, but once I did, I could never forget I did. Perhaps he has not realized yet that he loves you, and perhaps he needs a little push. Tell him how you feel," he advised, cleaning your tears. "And if he doesn't feel the same way, then you will always have Lord Vikander. You can always learn how to love him, and if not, you get along very well with him. He is sensible, he respects you, he is serious about his intentions, he knows what he wants… You deserve a man like him, not one that does not love you, my darling. Listen to my words and converse with Benedict, then you will know what to do."

"Thank you, Papa."

He smiled. "You do not have to thank me for anything. Now, go to sleep."

You smiled back at him and did as he told you.

#benedict bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

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cultofdixon · 11 months

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Take Your Time

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • People are assholes and go for something that you’ve had your whole life when it comes to making you feel small. But thank god he’s not one of them • ANGST/SFW • TW: Insecurities / Bullying

Requested by: Anon

Alexandria

New place, new people

Same type of assholes, but not all of them at least.

Except when your biggest insecurity is a permanent part of your life.

The entire interview Y/N tried her best not to answer the questions Deanna was asking in full or she’d find herself struggling. Deanna was nice and patient but Y/N couldn’t help but get the feeling that this could’ve gone faster. She’s wasting her time. More around those lines.

Daryl looked up from his hands when he heard the door open and shut, only to notice Y/N saddened expression but when she noticed his piercing blue orbs looking at her she gave him a small smile.

“Was she mean?”

“No, n-not really” Y/N shrugs bringing herself to sit beside him while Glenn entered after her. “S-She made me n-nervous”

“I can see that” Daryl stated the first thing on his mind and felt as if he said something wrong. “Uh. Well. She makes me nervous…too…”

That soft quiet laugh of hers escaped her lips when the archer scrambled but listening to such was music to his ears.

As the group was being lead to the two houses they were provided until further inspection on the group, even if 90% of their weapons were turned into the pantry. So they can’t do any harm…for the most part. Y/N felt a tad uncomfortable which brought her to look around their surroundings and found one of Deanna’s sons that she brought up during her interview staring right at her. She lingered toward the back of her group watching the son approach her as she felt incredibly small compared to the tall individual.

“See your group is finally settling into their new digs” He smiles, as his appearance seemed friendly but Y/N’s anxiety got the best of her thinking something might happen. Guess you tend to feel that way after once thinking friendly people with a new community weren’t going to turn into cannibals.

“Yeah” Y/N shyly states watching the man’s shoulders relax.

“My name is Aiden. What’s a beautiful woman like yourself named? Besides possibly Angel” his flirting could use some work.

“Y/N”

“Do you only answer in short one worded phrases?” He laughs a bit as Y/N didn’t really want to answer him in full sentences if she had to.

“Y-You make me r-really n-nervous” Y/N’s neutral expression turned into a frown and even more anxious demeanor. “L-Like your mother”

Aiden bites his tongue when listening to her speak as he kept a smile on his face for more reasons than to look friendly to the new comer.

“Well. Sorry about that, hope to see you at the party”

“P-Party? Wow. I-It’s really l-l-like the old world”

“Mhm” Aiden did his best to contain it right then and there but left before he could crack.

A crack that turned into out roar of laughter at the party Carol convinced Y/N to go.

Arriving was the easy part to this party. All the strangers locking onto the new comers, especially Y/N, only made her want to leave. But Carol stopped her the first two times she tried to leave. Her wandering gaze was looking for a certain someone but ultimately lead to disappointment when he never came to view at that party.

“Y/N!”

The unfamiliar but familiar enough voice brought Y/N out of her thoughts watching Aiden wave her over to the small group of only new people. When she got closer, Aiden wrapped his arm around her shoulders resulting in her giving a “help me” look to Carol and Rick. Carol only gave her a thumbs up before turning back to Rick.

“If she gets buddy buddy with the sons, we might be able to persuade if needed”

Rick was going to respond but he watches from the corner of his eye Y/N blow up and shove Aiden off of her. He brought his full attention to the scene about to walk over to check on her but all that happened next was the group of Alexandrians laughing and Y/N storming out of the party.

“Take your words back, Carol” Rick states as Carol frowns watching Y/N exit the house. Before she even thought about going after her to check on her, and know who she has to beat up. But Maggie quickly noticed her storm out and went to check on her.

When Maggie returned with no Y/N, Glenn gave her a worried look as she brought herself close.

“She’s fine”

“She say what happen?”

“Yeah but that’s her business. I’ll check on’er again before lights out” Maggie wrapped her arm around her husband looking in Aiden’s direction before back at Glenn. “I don’t trust him, Glenn. Keep an eye out alright?” She whispers to Glenn who subtly turn to who she’s referring to before nodding and kissing her forehead.

The next morning came and Daryl was making his way to Aaron’s garage when he spotted Y/N sitting alone at the gazebo drawing away in a hard cover sketchbook she found in Carol’s house. Daryl remembers the one she lost in the prison and how she’d draw every chance she got after chores and runs she went on. But that wasn’t the only thing he focused on, he couldn’t help but notice the change in atmosphere as he drew closer.

“Mornin’”

His voice startled her at first but she relaxed once she saw who it was.

“M-Morning” Y/N replies quieter than her usual and her smile when Daryl first approached her had faded.

Daryl decided to sit with her a moment ignoring his bubbling feelings because something was off with her. So he wasn’t going to leave her.

“Aaron’s got this bike frame in his garage…you don’t gotta help me but you wanna just. Hang out?” His hint of a smile peeked out when hers returned with a nod. “Alright, cmon”

The two did their own thing in silence, it wasn’t awkward but Daryl couldn’t help his anxious feeling when Y/N wouldn’t talk. She’s usually very talkative with him…

________

“Hey D” Y/N smiles kneeling beside Daryl while he worked on his bike in the court yard of the prison. “Find the p-piece you needed?”

“Mhm. I could use an extra set of hands handing me tools if yea don’t mind”

“Nope! H-Happy to help” She smiles shuffling to get comfortable sitting on the floor while going through the tool box they found in maintenance.

After handing Daryl a few tools here and there, Y/N decided how was the time.

“Can I ask yea s-something?”

“Shoot” Daryl slid out from under to sit up and wipe off the grime on his hands with a his rag.

“Do yea t-think you can help m-me learn how t-to shoot a bow?” Y/N felt a bit off given how bad her stutter can get when she was anxious. But Daryl didn’t show any signs of annoyance or anything. He likes the girl, he doesn’t want to ever make her feel bad.

“Yea found one?”

“Glenn did. J-Just thought..”

“If yea like…I mean if yea ain’t busy later…we can go out and shoot. I’m more than happy to teach yea” Daryl felt himself smile more than his usual twitch of a smile as he couldn’t help the giddiness he felt when she lit up.

“Really?” She smiles even brighter as he nods confirming such. “Ah! You’re amazing D”

________

What he’d do to see that smile of hers

Daryl brought himself from under the bike looking over to Y/N seeing her slow her drawing and an uneasy feeling builds in his chest.

“Hey, mind handing me tools when I need’em? Listen back at the prison?”

“S-Su-…Yeah” Y/N frowns setting her sketchbook down on the work bench before bringing herself to sit on the ground beside him with the tool box in front of her.

Working in silence for a few hours only made the archer worry for the girl even more. He was getting impatient with not knowing what could be wrong, hell it could be nothing. It’s never nothing, what is he thinking?

“I…have the n-night w-w-…watch” Y/N felt her body tense when she struggled to get that out as she puts away the tools Daryl wasn’t using anymore watching him help her. “W-Wh…”

“I’ll walk yea…if yea don’t mind”

He didn’t receive a no but still kept a respectable distance in case she wasn’t entirely comfortable. But Y/N felt safer with Daryl.

As the two made their way toward the front gates, it was Aiden coming off his shift and Daryl knew then that something happened with the eldest son given Y/N immediately hid behind the archer.

“Sup Dixon”

“Hey” Daryl glares a bit but given the time of night, Aiden couldn’t really tell. But he did know Y/N was there.

“Yknow you’re a big dude. But not big enough to hide her.” Aiden scoffs watching Y/N immediately book for the watch tower making the man laugh a bit. “How did you handle that for so long?”

“What yea mean?” Daryl growls watching the man defensively hold his hands up backing up slightly.

“I think you know what I mean. I don’t understand why any of yea kept her around when she can’t get a full sentence out of that broken record of a voice box she’s got”

Without another thought, Daryl’s fist met Aiden’s jaw and that was the end of that conversation. He’ll hear about it from Deanna later but he has his priorities in the moment.

________

No one thought anyone could break Daryl’s hard exterior, but whenever he was around Y/N? The man man was puddy in her hands.

“You’re gonna want to lower your aim. Be eye level” Daryl helped Y/N adjust her aim as she instinctively adjusted her stance before drawing the arrow back.

When she landed the shot, Y/N couldn’t contain her excitement as she screams happily startling Daryl a bit but even he couldn’t help his own excitement.

“Nice shot”

“I-I-I can’t b-believe I—-Ah” Y/N stopped herself abruptly feeling her face flush from embarrassment. “S-Sorry”

“For what?”

“Uhm. My s-stutter”

“Why would yea apologize for that?” Daryl looks at her confused watching her shrug with a bit of a pout. “Hey. Don’t worry about it, sunshine. I wanna hear everythin’ yea gotta say”

Y/N smiles happily when he said that.

________

Part of her wishes they were back in that moment

Daryl quietly enters the watch tower listening to the sobs coming from Y/N as he instantly brought himself to kneel in front of her resting his hands on her knees.

“Y/N, what’d he do to yea? Do I need to do more than just punch’em?”

“Y-Y-You…p-…” Y/N stopped trying to talk as she hid her face in her hands. Daryl wasn’t having it as he carefully brought his hands to hold her face making her hands go to hold his wrists watching her sob.

“Hey…hey hey” Daryl frowns wiping away the tears that fell. “Cmon. It’s just me. I’m here…what did he do?”

“A-At the…” Y/N tried to stop again but Daryl softly shushes to try and calm her enough to stop her crying.

“The party? Is that what yer trying—“ He watches her nod while he continued to take care of the ongoing tears. “What happened at the party?”

“H-He…he was m-m…mocking m-m-me” She cried. “a-and called m-me a f-f-freak in front of o-others”

Oh he’s going to kill this guy Daryl frowns sensing there was more to this, watching her sniffling lessen and the tears slowly stop. “What else, sunshine?”

________

“S-Stop it!” Y/N snaps at Aiden who couldn’t help the laugh to escape his lips.

“M-M-Make me” He smirks getting a laugh out of his brother, Spencer and their friends at the community watching Y/N’s face get heated.

“Y-Y-You’re a f-fucking b-bitch!” She snaps shoving the man. “N-No one l-likes a f-fucking bully”

That was met with silence before an out roar of laughter between the group as Y/N had enough of being there. She shoved Aiden out of her way so that she can leave the party.

________

Yeah. He’s gonna fucking get it Daryl did his best to contain his anger in that moment as he moved his hands sitting on the ground before bringing his arms around Y/N pulling her close to his person.

The archer held her the entirety of her shift, nothing exciting was going to happen that night anyway.

Daryl kept her close for as long as she needed, even on the walk back to Rick’s place where they both had a room in. He stopped at the steps leading to the house to check her once more before they entered.

“You…wanna spend the night with me? I uh. Don’t want yea to be alone tonight”

“Y-You don’t mind?”

“I never mind when it’s yea, sunshine” Daryl gave her a shy smile watching hers finally return after the days without it. The two entered the house together and went to spend the night in Daryl’s.

•

Daryl made his way to Aaron’s garage alone the next morning seeing Aiden on his walk over to the house.

“Hey! You were a fucking dick last night for pu—-“ Aiden was suddenly pushed into the bush in front of the nearby house by Daryl who took out a cigarette after doing such. “WHAT THE FUCK!”

“Sorry, spasms” Daryl chuckles lighting the cig and returning on his way to his bike.

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #I was gonna project since I had a real bad stutter before speech therapy but meh didn’t want to anymore #I still like where I went #daryl dixon fanfiction

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leclerced · 3 months

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Maxoscar where Max teaches Oscar new things. Maybe he and his girlfriend like trying new things in sex so their sex life is rich and they are experienced but then it’s just not the case with Oscar. He knows so little about sex apart for the basics and he never even had an orgasm when he tried with men before so when Max gives him orgasm after orgasm he’s so shocked and he never wants to stop (innocent!Oscar to slut!Oscar kind of thing)

okay but imagine.

max and his girlfriend wanna have a threesome so they ask him one night. can see them getting close to him first, inviting him out to celebrate or out to dinner. subtly flirting with him to test the waters, see how he reacts. if there’s any interest. oscar doesn’t know why the world champion and his girlfriend keep asking to hang out with him, but he’s not gonna say no. especially when he’s pretty sure they’re flirting with him and even if he’s completely wrong about it he likes the attention, he likes the way they make him feel generally speaking, like he fits in there, like he’s not just a rookie. he’s one of them!!

then they pop that question one night and he’s so shocked, he goes silent and they panic thinking they’ve misread signals or something. immediately are like, “sorry never mind, forget we asked! didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” and oscar suddenly remembers to use his words and he’s stupidly like, “um, why me?” his face is so sweet, wide eyes and pink cheeks. she thinks its the cutest thing ever, leans in and says, “why don’t you let us show you sometime yeah? actions speak louder than words anyways, don’t they?” he nods and max tells him to use his words and he stutters out an okay. they wanna talk about it right then apparently because as soon as he says okay, max is asking what he’s into, does he like guys and girls or just guys? what is he okay with? oscar’s heart is racing as he answers all of their questions and they give him their answers back, his mind swimming with all the ideas of what they’ll be doing; majority of which are things he hasn’t ever done before. i feel like he wouldn’t have been w a guy in years, since he was a teenager fooling around and so they agree to ease back into that which he’s grateful for. but also, when they say they’ll ease into it it makes him think this isn’t a one time thing like he thought it was going to be.

the first time they fuck, he doesn’t know what to expect, but even his barest expectations are shattered when he arrives to their place and she’s in lingerie and tells him she bought it just for him. they take him to the guest room and get straight down to business, both of them too excited to wait any longer. she guides him to sit on the bed and crawls onto his lap and asks if she can kiss him, and as soon as they’re kissing all bets are off and oscar’s all in. it’s all a blur in his mind when he looks back on it. max made her ride his thigh and then told oscar to go down on her, and the entire time, max is telling him what to do, what she likes, and she’s praising him for being so good. he’s never experienced anything like that, never had someone tell him what to do, or had praise him the way she is, whimpering his name and telling him how good his mouth feels, begging him for more while she pulls his hair and rocks her hips into his face. he’s gone down on men and woman but it’s a different experience going down on her.

they’d jerk him off and suck him off together, teasing him until he’s begging to cum like she had been when he was going down on her, and then max is taking over and makes him cum twice more, and he can’t think straight anymore. he watches them fuck after he’s came three times, and somehow gets hard again. she rides him after max is finished and she’s full of max’s cum, definitely not on his threesome bingo card but it should have been. he’s so sensitive all he can do is lay there and take it as she works both of them towards one last orgasm. max’s lips find his neck and he starts kissing him and telling him how good he is, and oscar’s just fucking gone.

oscar expects them to kick him out once she climbs off of him and flops down next to him, but max fetches a washcloth and begins cleaning both of them up, then fetches water and then carries her out of the room, mumbling something. he returns a moment to ask oscar why he’s still laying there, asks if he needs to be carried too and holds out a hand for support. he asks what max is talking about, and he’s like, “well i said c’mon didn’t i? we aren’t sleeping in here, obviously.” and oscar just blinks at him before taking the outstretched hand and following him to their actual bedroom and she’s already cuddled up in the middle of the bed and just pats the bed on either side of her for them to join her.

#ask #lifeboredme #mv1/op81

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wil-o-wispy · 5 months

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The Wife, The Lover and the Bastard Son - Part 1

Chris Redfield x Reader

Part 1 (You are here) | Part 2 | Part 3

Synopsis: After a long day of being interrogated about Wesker's work in Africa, you try to drown your sorrows in liquor. Too bad it won't work out as planned with Chris Redfield watching your every move.

Includes: Minor reader injury, excessive drinking, vaguely referenced unwanted advances from a stranger, spoliers for RE5, my first time posting my writing publicly. Enjoy!

Hurt/Comfort with plot. Reader is referred to as 'Doc.'

wc: 3.8k+

“I had it handled.” Your tone was matter of fact and icy. You were not the best fighter by any stretch of the imagination, but you were positive you could have taken down that wobbling drunk with a good kick.

Chris kept his eyes on the road. From the streetlights outside the car that came and went as Chris drove his hummer towards your home, you could see his stony expression illuminate and darken.

“You were just about on the receiving end of a right hook.” His hands tightly grip the steering wheel. Not in anger, but in frustration at the situation you’d found yourself in.

“And I was preparing to counter just like Jill taught me. Your point?”

“My point? You almost got in a bar fight! Why were you even in there at this time of night?”

Your mouth falls open. “Oh so it’s my fault some small-dicked idiot doesn’t know what ‘no’ means?”

“That’s not what I said-“

“And you didn’t have to! I’m a grown ass woman. I can handle my own problems. I don’t need you playing hero for me. And if I want to drink myself into a coma on a weekday, I have every right to do that without getting chewed out by you.”

You look at Chris with a withering glare and he shuts his mouth and keeps driving. A tense silence overtakes the car. In truth, your night getting cut short by a drunk asshole then Chris intervening on the almost fight was just the final incident after a long day that made you see red. You shift uncomfortably in your carefully curated, business casual outfit. A minute later, you let out a tired sigh.

“I’m sorry. If you must know, I had a tough day and I didn’t want to drink alone.”

The captain tilts his head, still keeping his eyes on the road. “The D.S.O. interview?”

You could feel your eyes getting hot. When you had married Albert Wesker all those years ago, you couldn’t imagine that your life would be like this; living under the protection of the B.S.A.A. and questioned on yet another aspect of Albert Wesker’s work every few months. It’s days like this when it feels like Albert isn’t actually gone. Even in death, his stain on the world of bioterrorism still found ways to torment your existence. You being a former Umbrella scientist didn’t help your case either, regardless of the fact that you never participated in Albert’s schemes.

“More like interrogation… but yeah.”

Chris’ expression softens. “What was it about this time?”

You take a deep calming breath, debating on keeping the details to yourself as usual. Chris wasn’t your friend. He was your designated agent that gave you assignments whenever another virus made itself known (which was more often than you would think). You made a point to keep things professional between you two. Anything more felt taboo given the circumstances of your relationship. The will to keep it that way had worn thin with the day’s events, so you relented but kept the answer short.

“Africa. Again.”

More silence. You notice Chris sigh and look annoyed, but don’t draw attention to it. Africa was a sensitive subject for both of you. It marked the explosive conclusion to your marriage with Albert, and the beginning of your strained alliance with his murderer. You didn’t hold it against Chris in the slightest. You really didn't. Deep down you know Albert would have ended humanity with a smirk plastered on his face. You’d already mourned the loss of the man you married long before his heart stopped beating. Since then, Chris had surprisingly and unwaveringly advocated for you. He even worked out a deal on you becoming a consultant on viruses for the B.S.A.A. in exchange for protection. He’d helped you so much over the years. More than you could ever hope to repay. That debt continues to grow with every kind gesture. You hated it.

Tonight for example: after Chris grabbed that drunk’s arm on the backswing and pinned him to the bar counter, both of you got kicked out. You didn’t even get your drink. You’d already had a rough day, so you yelled at Chris about him being a stalker and an asshole as you stomped back to your car. A comical insult considering knowing your whereabouts was a part of his job. All you wanted to do was go back home, resigned to drink alone, but lo and behold your car wouldn’t start and Chris noticed. He had every right to leave you to fend for yourself, but instead he insisted on driving you home.

“You’d think after three years they’d run out of questions to ask. The government keeps hiring investigators more stupid than the last. It’s incredible really.” You quip with some annoyance after a moment, trying to ease the tension. Chris still stares at the road in silence, so you keep going.

“They demanded a lot of answers about why we helped each other that day. That was a fun trip down memory lane. Don’t be surprised if someone calls you to verify that I told them the truth.”

Chris takes a deep breath, shifts in his seat and his posture relaxes slightly. “You know you can talk to me, right?”

“I am talking to you.”

“I mean beyond the one-word answers. I know there’s a lot on your mind. You can talk to me.”

You roll your eyes and go back to looking at the streetlights go by out the window.

“Right. Because you’re so unbiased about this subject.”

“I’m serious. I’ll just listen if you need to vent.”

“You’re already driving me home. I don’t need any more favors from you tonight.”

“It’s not a favor. I just want to help.”

You think about it for a moment. This wasn’t the first time Chris tried to get you to open up to him. But instead of brushing it off like before, you consider it. And the more you thought about it, the more it made sense that Chris would be the perfect person to weigh in on your interview with the D.S.O. He worked under Wesker at the R.P.D., knew nearly every single thing there was to know about him from tracking Wesker down over the years, and he’d witnessed Wesker’s possessive treatment of you the day he died. He didn’t look at you with disdain like most of the B.S.A.A. He saw you for who you were. The only person who could even be remotely as qualified was Jill, but she was still getting back on her feet after what happened in Africa. Plus, you doubted she would willingly listen to a rant about anything remotely associated to the man who brainwashed her.

Plus it would be nice to have someone listen to your complaints without looking at you like you were the scum of the earth.

Eventually, Chris pulls up to the small house that the B.S.A.A. had put you in for witness protection. It was an older one story house with a few problems here and there, but it was inconspicuous and you had managed to make it feel more like ‘yours’ with the handful decorations and plants you had accumulated over the last few months.

Chris pulls into the driveway and puts his hummer into park. Both of you just sit in silence for a few seconds, with Chris staring at the steering wheel and you at the sad excuse of a flower bed leading up to your front door.

“Doc-”

“Sure.”

Chris looks at you, confused. “What?”

You turn your gaze from the window to Chris. “I’d… appreciate having someone to vent to.”

You unbuckle your seatbelt and get out of the car. You lean your head back in the car before you close the door with a cheeky smile. “Care to join me so I don’t have to drink alone?”

____________________________________

If nothing else, Chris Redfield proved to be a great drinking buddy. He took what was offered to him, drank without complaint, and took care to keep both of your glasses full throughout your animated storytelling of the day’s events. Although he did limit himself because he had to be sober enough to drive home, which you understood.

You on the other hand, had enough drinks in you to cause the vibe of the room to feel fuzzy, your social filter to disappear, your shoes and socks to be discrded in the corner, and to have any soft surface to feel like the most comfortable thing in the universe. You had completely relaxed laying out on the end of your sofa by the side table where Chris opted to sit in the armchair caddy cornered to the couch next to you, listening intently to your retelling of the days events.

“…then this pencil pushing government lackey asks me if I personally had anything to do with the development of that plaga strain that popped up in Africa.”

You motion your empty glass to Chris, and he reaches over from his spot in the armchair to grab the whiskey bottle on the coffee table to pour more into your glass while nursing his own drink.

“Thank you. And when I told him no, he started going on this tirade. And if he’d read any further than the last name at the top of the damn page, then he’d know my specialty isn’t parasites. It’s viruses! Yet this half-assed excuse of-”

You hiccup and take a moment to compose yourself after the hiccup before continuing while Chris makes no attempt to hide his smirk at your drunkenness.

“-half-assed excuse of a government agent goes on this rant of how I had to have been involved. There was no conceivable way that I wasn’t at least consulted on the development of the new plaga. So I tried to break down the differences between a virus and a parasite to him, and by the end of that little lesson I was convinced he didn’t know his ass from his elbow!”

You down the whiskey is one clean chug. Chris let’s out a light-hearted laugh at that, much to your annoyance.

“It’s not funny,” you admonish while wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“It isn’t, but the way you’re telling it is.”

“Well, I’m glad my suffering is entertaining to you.”

“Go on, what happened next?”

Your face grows a bit more serious.

“The bit after that isn’t as funny.”

Another charismatic smile. “Go ahead. I want to hear it.”

You look at Chris, and the look on his face is so genuine, so kind, that you find yourself speaking before you can stop yourself.

“He started questioning me on what I was doing if I wasn’t helping create these things. He was asking why I stood by and did nothing. Why didn’t I try to contact anyone, sabotage the work, try to leave… that kind of thing. And how many deaths could have been avoided if I just sucked it up and called someone.”

In truth, those questions that the agent asked you prompted a well of guilt that you’d safely tucked away to return with a vengeance. In reality, there was very little you could have done to influence the outcome of anything Wesker was involved in, and there was nothing that could have been done to stop Uroboros before Chris and Sheva were sent to Africa.

But there was always that little pit of guilt haunting the back of your mind: If you were cleverer, you could have gotten a radio sooner. If you cared more, the subjects for those experiments wouldn’t have died. If you weren’t so afraid you could have stolen a phone or a laptop and ended Wesker’s reign of bioweapon terror years sooner.

That last one weighed heavy on your mind long before the D.S.O. interview.

You feel tears start to prick your eyes and you remember why you wanted to drink in the first place. You can’t be consumed by guilt if you’re too intoxicated to remember it.

“Top me off will you?” The request comes out in a mumble, laced with a false jovialness that not even you are convinced of. You don’t even hold up the glass in Chris’ general direction. You only stare mindlessly into it from your perch on the couch.

“Hey…look at me.”

You look up from your glass and become slightly startled from Chris’ close proximity. You hadn’t even realized Chris had gotten up from the armchair on your right to kneel in front of you at the end of the couch. You can feel the heat of him he’s so close. His concerned and comforting look and tone brings you dangerously close to shedding tears. Suddenly, Chris’ presence in your house feels suffocating and his gaze makes you feel exposed. You look to the side and stare at the rug.

“I’m sorry this was a bad idea. I think you should go.”

You move to get up from the couch and Chris mercifully backs up and gives you room to walk. Calling your movement a walk at this point was generous. You shuffled like the undead trying to head to your front door; unbalanced yet somehow still walking upright.

“Doc-”

You call over your shoulder back to him. “I’ll escort you out. Do me a solid and forget this happened.” You start to turn back towards the door and you feel your foot catch, stomach drop and body lurch forward.

In the moment, you forget about the little wooden divider between the hallway to your front door and the living room. Thankfully, by throwing your other foot forward and flailing your arms you catch your weight and you don’t fall to the ground. But the shock of suddenly almost losing your balance causes the grip on your glass to loosen. Before you could stop it, the glass in your hand slips between your fingers and shatters in the little hallway to your front door between your kitchen and living room. In your drunken and vulnerable state, the symphony of glass sounds like a death toll.

“Oh.. shit I’m sorry about that. Just… just get out. Watch the glass.”

You didn’t know why you were apologizing to Chris for breaking your own things. You felt like you were being viewed under a microscope and every little thing was being analyzed by Chris, who still wore his worried demeanor under a decisive mask of calmness.

“Hey it’s alright. You go sit back down…” His voice is so infuriatingly calm.

Chris’ body starts to try and move past you towards your kitchen, presumably to find something to clean up your blunder for you. The very idea of having this man do any more favors for you made your chest tighten and you to move to clean up the mess before he does too quickly.

“No this needs to ge- mph!”

When you stepped towards your kitchen to get a broom, you felt an agonizingly sharp pain in your foot. You instinctively lift the injured foot and lean on the archway, but drunkenness and balance rarely ever agree with each other. Your hand doesn’t gain enough purchase on the wall, so your arm slides past its target and you gracelessly and painfully crumple to the ground. It was a kind of fall that knocked the wind out of you for a moment.

“Shit.” You breathe out heavily, trying and failing to hold back your tears and attempting to get up. Chris is quick to act before you make much progress. He kneels down in front of you, gently grasping your shoulders, taking care to step around the glass in the process.

“Where does it hurt? That sounded painful.”

“I’m fine.” You grit through your teeth.

Once you’re sitting upright on the ground, Chris takes one look at your foot, and you see a slight shift in his expression where his eyes get just a tad wider. You can physically see him shift from concerned friend to authoritative captain. He speaks with soft authority.

“Stay put. Don’t get up.”

Before you can say anything, he disappears into your kitchen. You lift your leg and tilt your head to get a better view of your foot and you see red. Your foot is smeared with blood and bits of glass. You instinctively go to pull a larger glass piece out of your foot, but even with all of the whiskey you drank, it hurts like hell and you hiss in pain. You hear hurried footfall from the kitchen.

“Hey! Don’t do that.”

Chris gently removes the hand that’s trying to pick out the glass from your foot, places a wet rag in your hand, then moves it back to your foot, lightly clasping his hand over yours and your foot for a moment and you wince. He watches you with kind eyes.

“Keep that on there, ok?”

“I don’t want your-”

He doesn’t give you a chance to finish before you see him return to the kitchen. A moment later he reappears with a broom and a first aid kit. Chris tosses the first aid kit beside you and quickly sweeps the glass into a small pile by the arch so it’s out of the way of foot traffic and haphazardly leans the broom on the wall. Smudges of blood remain on the floor, but Chris ignores it in favor of sitting down next to you and digging supplies out of the med kit; disinfectant, tweezers, gauze.

“Stop! Okay? You really don’t have to do that…” You hear your words slurring together.

Chris ignores your protest and gently, but firmly, wraps his fingers around your ankle. He pulls it towards himself and you let go of the wet cloth as he perches your ankle on his knee.

“I do, actually. You’ve had a lot to drink and this glass isn’t going to pick out itself.”

“Will you just stop? I can bandage myself up.”

A lie. You’re too drunk and you know it. He knows it. You weakly try to pull back your foot, but there is resistance from Chris’ grip. You looks at you with a soft, but exasperated look.

“You’re drunk and you’re bleeding! Just let me take care of you.”

“And why the fuck do you even want to?” You’re angry. Angry at yourself for letting yourself get friendly with Chris. Pissed at Chris for being so nice after your repeated attempts to keep him at arms length. Heated from him ignoring your requests to stop helping you because you sure as hell don’t deserve it.

Chris looks at you and answers straight away, gently pulling your foot back towards him by your ankle.

“Because I’m not going to leave you when you need help!”

You just looked at Chris with your puffy eyes, flushed face, and tear-streaked cheeks. You two sit there for a long moment looking at each other. You’re frozen in your spot from his words.

“Why the hell are you of all people still trying to help me? You should hate me.” Your tone is incredulous and quiet.

You knew for a fact that your presence at the B.S.A.A. as a consultant instead of criminal at Chris’ own insistence caused far more trouble than it was worth over the years. The attempted kidnappings, the death threats, the extortion attempts and countless other events that occurred as a result of your proximity to Wesker and the B.S.A.A. caused, at best, a headache for the captain. Wasted time, wasted resources, wasted manpower, wasted anything that could be used to fight bioweapons instead of bad actors that wanted you dead at worst. Chris had absolutely no incentive to keep helping you after Africa, yet here he was. He had every right to look at you with disgust for sleeping with the enemy, yet he’s always tried to befriend you.

The silence stretches for an uncomfortable amount of time while Chris picks the glass out of your foot. It stretches through Chris disinfecting the wounds. It ends when he starts to bandage your foot with a roll of gauze.

“Your only crime here is falling in love with the wrong man.”

Chris wraps the final bit of gauze around your foot, and looks back up at you with a reserved playfulness.

“Last I checked, you get left off with a warning on that one.”

“People died because I didn’t do enough-”

“People died because Wesker was a psychopath. That’s not your fault.”

You look at Chris in silent shock.

No one in the years after Wesker died had told you that you weren’t at fault for what he did. You were always met with suspicious glances, strict professionalism, or outright disdain when you were forced to talk about him or any projects he was related to. You thought you deserved it. Even Jill still held you at arm’s length when it came to being vulnerable about what happened with Wesker. This was the first time that anyone had shown you genuine compassion and absolved you completely of guilt. And it’s devastating.

You can’t do anything except burst into tears.

Your vision goes blurry and before you can even think about stopping it, your body is wracked with sobs and you cry. Still unbalanced from your drinking, you lean on the wall facing Chris.

There’s a moment where Chris isn’t sure of what to do. But he knows that he can’t leave you like this. Chris tentatively reaches out his hand towards your shoulder, carefully watching you to gauge whether or not you wanted physical comfort.

“Hey, you’re okay. You’re okay…” Chris’ voice falls over you like a weighted blanket. The heavy soothing tonality of his voice cuts through guilt that had been plaguing your mind and you can’t help but lean into his touch when his hand rubs your shoulder.

You don’t fight him when he pulls you into his lap. His embrace is warm, comforting and everything that you didn’t know you needed up until the moment you had it. One of your hands grab a fistful of his shirt for support, and you bury your face in Chris’ neck as you continue to sob.

“It’s alright, let it out…”

The captain’s tone never wavers outside of that low, soothing timbre. Chris uses the hand that’s not wrapped around your torso to rub comforting circles between your shoulders. His touch is consistent and methodical. It takes a long time, but eventually your breathing starts to even, sobs morph into sniffles, and rigid muscles relax into Chris’ embrace.

“Do you need anything? Anything at all?”

You hesitate for a moment, but nod your head. You let go of Chris’ shirt and maneuver your arms over his shoulders and squeeze. Chris gets the message immediately. Chris wraps his arms around you in a tight and comforting hug. The heat of him engulfs you fully and for the first time in a long time, you feel like everything is okay.

There’s no Wesker, no D.S.O., no bioterrorism organizations intruding on your life.

There’s only you and Chris.

And for once, that’s enough.

_____________________________

Hopefully this will be a full series but we'll see if that happens with my work schedule. Thanks for reading!

#reader insert #resident evil #chris redfeild x reader #chris redfield #resident evil 5 #re5 #albert wesker #reader is a former Umbrella Scientist #hurt/comfort #frenemies to lovers #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil fandom #no beta we die like men

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