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case-57-with-the-enclosure · 10 months

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Chapter 5!

of lost in the dark (he's got a heavy heart) by @definitelynotshouting!

( 1 & 2, 3, and 4 )

as always, be mindful of the content warnings, we're deaddoving here :] be safe and remember you can always come back- sensitive topics might need some cool-down time and that's perfectly fine ♡

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"Grian remembers those words like a thorn in his heart. Another lie, another broken promise; he's full of them these days."

i need to put him in a sock like they do with cats and cradle him to sleep,, poor little man he's gone through so much.

"In the growing afternoon light, Pearl's profile is crowned in dust and swirling gold motes. She still hasn't taken off her hood; the light catches on a patched seam, almost indistinguishable from the rest except for the dark blue thread that stands out like a neatly stitched scar. Something about it makes Grian's stomach curdle, so he casts his gaze back out the window, tracing leaves with a tight knot slowly gnarling in his chest."

ohohohoho the connection between the recently-patched Broken, its association with stitched scars and Knots,, scratches me brain.

"But the emotions swirling beneath the surface taste like ash, feel like fault lines, and make him dizzy with how fast they roil. Like steam without a pressure valve. Riptides without a shore. Something loose and endlessly spinning, that event horizon he'd felt himself circling earlier, spiraling in until it vanishes to a thin, needle point. Pearl is a maelstrom, Grian the eye, and at some point between his ignominious exit from Hermitcraft and subsequent rescue, they'd become two separate storms living as people."

man i love that Pearl's got just, so much going on he can't even differentiate or pinpoint the feelings- the first time reading this paragraph i had to stop the music and pay it twice the attention, bc it felt like the wind of these sentences was repeatedly slapping in my face :]

"Instead, she shifts, a subtle turn-without-turning, and the corner of her eye peeks out from beneath her hood. A thrill runs up his spine; cloaked as it is in shadow, it appears darker than it should. "Did he now," she says, with a soft, tuneless hum."

ª why do i feel like grian's about to get eaten by a wolf help

" 'Hmm, yeah, and we wouldn't want that now, would we?' Pearl replies, and this time her words hold the same razor edge as a diamond sword. "

funny thing that im This Tense at this but when he and mumbo were fighting i was like yes yes literature anomnomnom- the duality of being scared of conflict ig fjsghdsj

"Pearl cocks her head like a bird, still eyeing him from beneath her hood. Then, abruptly, she turns all the way to face him; the sun strikes her full across the bridge of her nose, slashing a line of gold from temple to jaw.¹ Grian startles, jerking back as if shocked before he can force himself still. Her irises are red.²"

1, beatiful!!!

2, ah shit!!

"A dark red, specifically— the colour of wine, of burgundy. Not the eerie glow of a red life, but something dulled down, closer to natural. Without the help of the sun, they could almost pass as brown— but here, they sear, a mixture of bloodied earth and banked embers.

eating the color descriptions up btw, taste oh-so-good

A trickle of ice flows down Grian’s spine as he stares into them, tracing each weaving vein of stroma, and behind his own eyes a dozen memories drenched in scarlet well up to the surface."

ªªªªªªª *googles stroma* ªªªªªªªªª

"In its place is an expression Grian can't parse beneath the crackling smile; something worn, something weary. Something ready to bite down. "Just checking, that's all. I kinda thought the only thing you ate these days were brains.” "

" “Like a zombie,” Pearl adds helpfully, either unaware or uncaring of the way he’s stilled. She makes a playful little growl in the back of her throat, hooks one hand into a claw in front of her face to demonstrate. None of it— not even the honeyed light slipping in through the window— touches her dark, dark irises."

ok im aware its. a lot to him but me personally, im charmed.

"He opens his mouth, but nothing comes out— Grian lies dead in the water, eyes wide and lips working as the writhing mass of emotions emanating from Pearl solidifies into a single, targeted beam. Like a scalpel cutting flesh, it slices clean through anything Grian could possibly say, stripping him down and leaving him raw, vivisected, on the table."

vivisected is such a good word,,

"The raging star in his chest bursts, igniting coal and ashes and flaring embers, and Grian's voice rises with the conflagration. "I WAS STARVING, PEARL!" he shouts, and his ears ring with the echoes. It's an admission he's made before, but not with such force. Grian snarls, chest heaving, wings clawing desperately to rise up and mantle, make him look large. "I've been starving this entire time! From day one of Hermitcraft, I was starving to death, and not one of you even tried to notice!" A sharp spark of pain needles into his palms; it takes him a moment to realize his hands have released the blanket to curl into fists, nails biting down hard enough to draw blood."

YESSSSS EXPLODE LIL BIRD BOY !!!!!!

"His red lives had always been consumed with a haze of blood, of aching, of thirst so potent he could drink and drink and still be greedy. If loneliness had often kept him company, he’d been too busy chasing death to see it."

!!!!!!!!!! If loneliness had often kept him company, he’d been too busy chasing death to see it!!!!!!!!

"(Except once. In a desert with nothing but echoes and a body still bleeding out on the sand behind him: he’d been alone, then. And he’d choked on it, suffocated; teetered between two gravities before tipping his center to the one that promised home, in any form or fashion. Anything to escape the shackles he himself had crafted, had burdened himself with. Grian remembers that. And Grian will do everything in order to forget.)"

i,, i need a moment to curl up and perhaps cry a little

"I'm fine, stop trying to babysit me, and let's all focus on getting Grian—" His voice cracks on the last syllable; Mumbo has to clear it a few times before continuing, rough and uncoordinated, "Let's just focus on getting Grian better, so then we can take him home.""

:C <3

"Scar winces theatrically. "Mumbo? Yeah… not sure what's gotten into him, poor guy, but he hasn't been acting like himself at all. He's been all sorts of crazy since yesterday. Oh! But don't you worry—" Scar's stiff smile melts into something a little more genuine, rounded at the edges; his gaze is warm, sparkling, as he lifts one hand to hesitantly place it on Grian's forearm. The contact burns right through him, but Grian doesn't flinch; this is Scar."

grian-centric fics got me sighing and twirling my hair at this man honestly- lord have mercy it is contagious

"One promise, he thinks, with an edge of desperation so urgent and pleading it resounds through his head like a scream. Just let me keep one promise before I go. Please."

WELP orz

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Closing Thoughts:

:C i am emotionally devastated

can't wait !!! to read how it progresses!!!!! im very curious about the potion-plan, if he's gonna get close to fully putting it in motion or if he's gonna have a bit of an eye-opener in the following chapters.

also fascinated by the use of the comms, they're one of my favorite things about minecraft fiction! how much are they responsible for? if he doesn't have an inventory without them, can't see the chat without them- i need to design little technologies for my comics asap

overall: devastated and inspired, 10/10

#✒️ fic dissection 🔬#lost in the dark (he's got a heavy heart)

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sweeterthanthis · 3 years

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Pairing: Dark!Ransom Drysdale x F!Reader

Summary: When Ransom takes you to the most expensive restaurant in Boston, he's not prepared to go without what he thinks he's owed. Even if you don't want to give it to him.

Warnings: NONCON, sexual violence, heavy knife play, mild blood play, humiliation, vaginal penetration, anal, anal creampie, forced orgasm, 18+.

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: This is very dark. Please take the warnings seriously and scroll on by if it's not your cup of tea. I am not responsible for your media consumption. Thank you so much to @cockslut-padalecki for beta'ing this for me. I appreciate and love you! And big thanks to @msmarvelwrites and @river-soul for pre-reading and all your encouragement throughout. You're both incredible 🖤

‘How did I get myself into this mess?’

That thought had entered your mind a thousand times, from the second he insisted on ordering your drink for you. You don't even like red wine. But he insisted. Just like he insisted on ordering you the salmon. Insisted on paying the bill. Insisted on sharing a cab home. Insisted on walking you to your doorstep. You didn't notice him wave the cab off into the night, and if you had, you’d have run inside as fast as your feet could carry you.

You’ve been locked away in the bathroom for god knows how long, working your way through a panic, and desperately trying to figure out a way to get him out of here. Out of your house, and out of your life.

Sure, Ransom is gorgeous. When he’d first walked into the restaurant - twenty minutes late, of course - you were practically squirming in your seat. Bright, ocean blue eyes, chestnut hair perfectly coiffed and not a strand out of place, cheekbones that could cut glass. The man was a delight for the eyes, but it didn’t take you long to figure out that he was anything but sweet.

He’s condescending, arrogant, spiteful, clearly spoiled rotten - and in a nutshell, the total opposite of anything you’re looking for in a potential romantic partner. You had considered, just for a moment, inviting him into your bed for the night. A one and done kind of thing. Just to test out that admittedly impressive physique. But the second he cupped the waitresses ass right in front of you, you knew that wasn’t going to happen either.

“You’ve been in there an awfully long time, sweetheart.” His voice is muffled by the wood, the door handle jimmying as he tries to twist it free of the catch in the lock. Your hands are shaking, purse strewn across the couch, your cell phone completely out of reach. “C’mon, what are you doing in there? Didn’t even offer me a drink before you hid yourself away. Not a very good hostess, are you?”

You clench your jaw, teeth gritted together as you ball your hands into fists; trying to rid yourself of the unbridled rage threatening to claw its way out. Nothing good will come of you losing it. Looking at your reflection in the mirror, you let out a shaky breath - trying to find some semblance of calm amongst the chaos.

“I-” your voice shaky, you grip the edge of the sink to ground yourself. “I would like you to leave. I’m not feeling well. Must have been something I ate. Maybe the salmon?”

Silence falls upon you, and you release a breath you don’t realise you’ve been holding when you hear your front door slam shut a few moments later. Guess you were right about one thing. He really was an asshole. Sure, you aren’t sick - but he doesn’t know that. He hadn’t even bothered to ask you if you were okay, just upped and left.

You splash some cool water on your face, brush the taste of bitter red wine from your teeth and tongue, and remove your makeup. You can’t help but huff a laugh at the thought of telling the girls at work just how fucking atrocious your date was. At least you have a funny story to tell. You’d be laughing about it soon enough, right?

Making your way out of the bathroom, you pull the cord and turn off the light; locking the front door and hanging your keys up on the hook. You stifle a yawn as you make your way upstairs to your bedroom, pulling a sleep shirt from your dresser and tossing it onto the bed.

You spy your reflection in the mirror, furrowing your brow and muttering to yourself, “Wasted yet another gorgeous dress on yet another asshole.”

Reaching awkwardly to unzip yourself, you shrug out of the dress and throw it into the laundry hamper at the end of your bed. You’re about to shuffle out of your lacy panties when your eyes land on the contents of your makeup bag strewn across the floor, and your heart misses a beat because you could have sworn it was on your dressing table when you left.

You look to the window to see if the heavy breeze knocked it over, but it’s closed; just like you know it would be. You shake your head from side to side, trying to rid yourself of all the silly thoughts flooding your brain.

“Swear I’m going fucking crazy sometimes.”

You sink to your knees with little to no grace, reaching for your mascara and your lipsticks, throwing them back into your cosmetic bag. You can’t shake the feeling in the pit of your stomach. Something’s not right. You still your movements, sucking in a breath through your nostrils as you look around the room.

Your heart stops in your chest, breath hitching in your throat when you see it.

A camel coloured, woollen coat that you’d recognise anywhere, draped across the arm of the chaise lounge in the corner of your bedroom; and you freeze.

You can’t move a muscle, tears pricking at your eyes. The realisation dawns on you, as if someone dumps a bucket of ice water on your head.

He’s still here.

“Anybody ever tell you you’re way too trusting?” His voice startles you, your body turning to face the doorway; Ransom’s large shadow illuminated by the light from the hall. His lecherous eyes wander over your body as you try to cover your modesty, standing on wobbly knees and reaching for the sleep shirt on your bed. “Oh, I wouldn’t bother with that if I were you. You won’t be needing it tonight.”

“Yo-you need to leave,” you stutter, holding the shirt tight against your chest, your knuckles white from gripping the thin cotton material. Your gut twists when he smirks at you, one hand behind his back and the other resting on his hip. You find your voice again, a little sterner this time. “I don’t want you here. Leave or I’ll call the cops.”

Ransom takes a stride forward as you take furtive little steps backwards, back digging into the dresser behind you. He cocks his head to the side, eyeing you from head to toe, and then back again.

“Little lamb cornered by the wolf, huh? What did you expect, princess? I wined and dined your stubborn ass at the most expensive restaurant in Boston, and you think I’m gonna let you decide when the night’s over?”

You’re shaking, teeth chattering together in fright as he looms closer to you; his body a few feet from yours, crystal blue eyes burning with an intensity that chills you to the bone. He reaches for the shirt in your grasp swiftly, ripping it from your fingers and throwing it back over his shoulder - your hands the only thing left to protect your modesty.

“C’mon. Playing hard to get isn’t cute on you. Show me what I paid for.”

Your eyes flit from left to right, brain whirring as you try to figure out a way to escape him. There’s no doubt in your mind what he intends to do to you, and the mere thought of it causes bile to rise and burn in your throat.

“Go on. Try it,” he mocks, sensing your flight response rising to the surface. “Run. See how far you get. Maybe you’ll get a kick out of it. I knew you were into some kinky shit. Took it upon myself to have a little look-see through your bedside cabinet.”

Heat rises in your cheeks as shame engulfs you, the thought of him prying into your collection of vibrators and toys making your nose scrunch up in disgust. The last thing you could ever want is for him to put his hands on you.

You need to get the hell out.

He’s too fast for you though, snatching you up in his arms the second you get close enough, your back pressed roughly against his chest as his arm wraps around your waist. You feel a cool chill at your jugular, your eyes flitting down to the shine of a blade and a sob emitting from your mouth, the tip of it digging into your throat just enough to break the first layer of skin.

“You know, it’s a real shame it had to be this way,” he hums, breath hot against your ear as he walks you backwards a little. You want to struggle against his grasp, your mind screaming at you to act, to do something - anything. But the knife at your throat is enough to frighten you senseless. “I’m a real good fuck. Ask around, you’ll find that out. But you just had to go and make it difficult, didn’t you, princess?”

“Please,” you whisper, fingernails digging into the cashmere sleeve of his sweater. “Please, don’t do this. You don’t have to do this.”

He pulls the knife away from your neck just enough so his tongue can lathe at the crimson droplet seeping from the tiny wound; humming in satisfaction at the taste of your blood on his tongue.

“If your pussy tastes as good as that, I might have to come back for seconds.”

You’re shaking like a leaf, clinging to him to hold yourself up, his hips grinding against your ass - the prominent bulge beneath his trousers pressing into the crease of your behind.

“Please, I don’t want this. P-please.”

“Please, please,” he taunts, spinning you round in his hold to face him, the knife in his hand snaking beneath the lace front of your bra and slashing it open - your breasts falling free as he shoves you back against your bed. “You’ll be begging soon enough, but it won’t be for me to stop.”

You lay there frozen, barely breathing as he pulls his sweater up over his head, his broad chest outlined in the shadow of the dim light. You must be staring, because he’s smirking again. Smirking at you as if you want this, as if you’re enjoying it.

“You know how lucky you are that I even took you out for dinner tonight, princess? I can’t remember the last time I fucked a girl in a bed. We don’t usually make it out of the car before they’re dropping their panties for me.”

Your eyes fix on the ceiling above you, arms resting against the mattress limply as you begin to accept it. It’s going to happen. He’s gone too far to stop now. His naked form is on top of you, forcing your thighs apart as he looms down over you. He pinches your chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look at him as he runs the tip of the blade down over the valley of your breasts.

“C’mon. Give me a smile,” he whispers, his mouth latching painfully onto your nipple as he sucks it between his teeth. You hiss, your legs flailing either side of his waist as you struggle. “I bet, if I slip my fingers inside that little lace number - you’ll be soaked.”

You're crying, tears rolling down over your cheeks and onto the sheets below. You cringe when you feel the heavy thud of his cock against your lace covered core, closing your eyes and breathing in deep through your nostrils.

"Shall we find out?" Ransom asks, but he doesn't want an answer. He's not going to give you a choice in the matter regardless of what you say. He sits back on his haunches, the flat of the blade making its way down over your stomach, dipping just beneath the waistband of your panties. "I'll make you a deal, princess. If you're not wet when I cut these panties off, I'll let you go."

You can't help but sob harshly, because you can already feel it. Your body betrays your mind, and heat spreads between your thighs, the dampness coating the gusset of your underwear. And he knows it, too. Can tell by the expression of shame on your features.

You jolt up the bed when the chill of the blade drags across your inner thigh, slipping beneath the lace and resting against your heated core. You hate the way your pussy clenches at the sensation, cursing yourself inwardly as he chuckles.

You feel the strain of material against your hips as he twists the blade, the serrated edge tearing through your underwear in one swift movement - leaving your cunt bare for his possessive stare.

Ransom lifts the knife up in front of him, smirking at the sight of it, the flat edge glistening and slick from your juices. You want to vomit. You think you might when he lowers it to your lips, pressing it against them and stroking the apple of your cheek with his thumb. A misplaced tenderness that you don't appreciate.

"Looks like I was right, doesn't it?" He huffs proudly, nudging your bottom lip down with the tip of the knife. "Open up, princess. You can say you don't want it, but that pussy - oh, that pussy - she wants it."

His eyes are ferocious as you shy away, nuzzling your face into the mattress and refusing to follow his instruction. The slap of the blade on your cheek makes you cry out, dampness coating your cheek as he brings it back to your mouth.

"Don't make it worse for yourself. Do as you're told, and I might even let you come tonight. Bet I could get one outta you in less than five minutes. Wanna make that bet? Didn't work out so well for you the last time, did it?"

"Now, stick your tongue out." You do it, hesitating a little when the tip of your tongue hits the metal - the salty sweet tang of your essence soaking into your tastebuds. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?"

You flinch as he wipes the remainder of your slick against your cheek, the blade nicking your jawline on the way down, warmth rising to the surface as a droplet of blood trickles down to the hollow of your throat.

"Now, can I put the fucking knife down? Been waiting all night to get my hands on this tight body."

You hesitate a little, nodding slowly and letting your tears of anguish flow freely. He tosses the knife onto the floor next to his clothes, trapping your body against the mattress with his as he forces his mouth onto yours. He kisses you with a ferocity that knocks you off kilter, his tongue forcing its way between your teeth. You fight the urge to bite down, his strength easily overpowering yours. You just want it to be over.

"Next time I'll take my time, get to know what makes this body tick. But I think I've waited long enough to get inside that little cunt, don't you?"

Next time.

You swallow down the bile that gathers in the back of your throat, holding your breath when he reaches between your bodies and runs his fingers through your traitorously sloppy folds - pinching at your clit and making you shriek.

"Absolutely fucking drenched. You act all demure and frigid, but deep down you're just a whore looking to get fucked." You can't hold back the whimper that escapes you when he rubs on your sensitive nub, tiny - strangely tender - circles causing you to pant. "That's it. Just enjoy it, princess. Behave, and I'll make it good for you."

You can feel that all familiar tingle rising to the surface, one hand gripping the sheets beside you and the other covering your mouth, almost as if you're trying to hold in your mewls. It's disgusting, he is disgusting - but you find yourself only a handful of strokes away from your orgasm. Ransom rips your hand away from your mouth, positioning your hands above your head and securing them both with one of his own.

"No. I wanna hear those pretty noises. I deserve them." Ransom's ministrations quicken, your cunt clenching and releasing as you hold your breath and try to stave it off; but it's no use. "Oh, here it comes."

Your whole body jerks as you try to wriggle free of his grasp, your climax crashing over you and sending you dizzy, blood pounding in your ears and your cries ringing out in the air. Fresh tears fall at the realisation that he was right. How easy it was to send you hurtling over the edge. You're disgusted with yourself.

"I'd hate to say I told you so, princess - actually no, that's a lie - I fucking told you so," he sneers, shoving your thighs apart once more and settling between them, your wrist aching from the force of his grip. "Now, be a good girl and beg for it."

"Fuck you," you snap, your suppressed rage bursting out of you as you spit in his face - your saliva rolling down his cheek.

The blood drains from your face as he smirks and wipes it away with the back of his hand, reaching for your throat and squeezing roughly. He brings himself level with you, his eyes staring a hole through your skull as he seethes. "That was a mistake. I was gonna make it good for you, but now I'm just gonna take exactly what I want."

You're on your front before you know it, your body free of his weight as he leans back and reaches down over the edge of the bed. You try to scramble away when you see the knife in his hand, desperate sobs wracking your body when he grips your ankle and tugs you back towards him; his knees either side of your thighs as he presses his chest against your back.

"Please!" you cry, shuddering as he drags the tip of the knife up over the curve of your spine. "Please, I'm begging you, you don't have to do this."

"Yeah, I do. Feel how hard you got me?" he purrs, slapping the heavy weight of his dick against the cleft of your ass. You wince and clench your thighs, but it's no use, the bulbous head prodding at your hole. "When's the last time you got fucked? Not that it matters. You've never been fucked like this."

"No!" you scream, his hefty girth splitting you open in one brutal thrust, pussy fluttering to try and accommodate him. He's huge and you're sobbing. "No, please no."

"Jesus fucking Christ, that's some good pussy," he grunts in your ear, the pressure from the knife nudging against the column of your throat. "Does it hurt, princess? I don't care."

You sigh with relief when he withdraws, but he soon punches the breath from your lungs when he fills you up again - his hips pounding against your ass, flesh rippling from the sheer force of it.

"You're gonna come all over my dick, and you're gonna say thank you. Got it?" he spits, punching into you mercilessly, fucking your frozen body into the mattress. You cry out when he applies more pressure to the blade, your pulse thrumming against the metal. "I said, got it?"

"Yes!" you howl, clinging to the comforter and bracing yourself for each violation of your soaked channel.

You hate the way your cunt sucks him in, despise the way your knees tremble as he sets your nerve endings on fire. He can feel the way your body reacts to him, teases you with it, whispers filth over your shoulder that makes your gut twist.

"You look so pretty when you cry, has anyone ever told you that? I think you're gonna come again."

Every muscle in your body tenses up, his animalistic grunts vibrating against the nape of your neck at the feel of your walls clinging onto him.

"Oh, you are. And then I'm gonna fill you up. I hope you're on birth control."

You are. Thank fucking God, you are. But the fact that he truly doesn't care makes your blood run cold. He's a fucking psychopath, and you just need to make it out of this alive.

Ransom sets the knife down behind him, bicep curling around your throat and tugging your head back against his collarbone - devious eyes searing into yours, bloodshot and damp with tears.

"You're a mess, look at you," he smirks, throwing his head back in pleasure when he punches against the deepest parts of you, balls slapping against the crease between your thighs. You close your eyes, try to take yourself somewhere peaceful in your head. Just want this to be over. "You can close your eyes, but your body is on fire for me, princess. I can feel it, and I know you can, too."

He's right. Your limbs are trembling, the sound of flesh smacking against flesh like static in your ears. You climb higher with each stroke of his throbbing cock against your swollen walls.

"Oh!" you gasp, his lips latching onto your shoulder and sucking a purple bruise into your dewy skin. You can't take it, so close to shattering that your body just takes over. "I-, fuck!"

"Thank me. Say thank you when you come on my dick. Remember who makes you feel this good. Say it."

Your eyes roll back, a garbled mess of words spilling from your lips and your head pounding. You're wrecked, pliable and fucked out beneath him - your ruined, abused cunt gripping him so fucking tight, you barely register the loss as he withdraws. Your brain is hazy, the blunt pressure of his cock pressing against your asshole making your eyes snap open in fright.

"N-ah!" you yelp, the crown of him punching through the tight ring of muscle, tip nestling inside as you tremble from the foreign intrusion. His hot, sticky spend splashes against your insides, sharp jerks of his hips sending shooting pains throughout your body.

"I said I was gonna fill you up. I didn't say where."

Ransom takes a minute, burying his nose in your hair and inhaling the scent of your coconut conditioner. It sickens you, the way he praises you as your body lays lifeless beneath him while he recovers from his climax.

You barely move when he lifts himself off you, you don't even blink as the sound of his belt buckle clinking alerts you to the fact that he's redressing. Your mind is shot, your body is wrecked, and you choke out a sob when you feel his come ooze out and nestle between your pussy lips.

"Thanks for the date," he leans down and kisses you on the cheek, and you recoil in disgust. "Next time you seduce me like that, you could at least buy me flowers first. Oh, and don't forget to lock up. There are some real assholes out there."

#ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale fanfiction #chris evans x you #ransom drysdale smut #chris evans smut #ransom drysdale imagine #chris evans imagine #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader

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ushiluv · 3 years

Text

Good Little Girl

step-daddy!atsumu x reader

recently divorced, your mom was quick to find a new boy toy to spend her time with, but what happens when that boy toy finds interest in you? (wc: 1635)

warnings

somnophilia (kinda?), creepy tsumu, overstimulation, age gap (reader is an adult), one (1) pussy slap and one (1) face slap, dumbification, reader has female anatomy, size kink, nipple play, breeding kinda, sex with no protection... also NOT proof read (yet)

note from the author

this is the first smut i’ve ever published pls lmk what you think about it and what i could improve! always open to criticism

The divorce did not take as big of a toll on your mom as you thought it would. You thought that being cheated on by her husband of 20 years would ruin her life but it didn’t, quite the contrary actually.

When you met Atsumu, you didn’t really know what to think. 28 years old and a career already secured, you wondered what he and your mother had in common. The age gap between them was big, big enough to make people’s eyes widen at the revelation of it, but neither him or your mom seemed to care.

Atsumu was quick to develop an interest in you. Who wouldn’t? You were everything he wanted and more; the thought of the woman he was dating was already far gone for him, he wanted you and what Atsumu wants, Atsumu gets. That probably explains the lingering touches on your body, the far too heavy stares on you, the weird interest in your love life. You couldn’t deny that the attention he gave you didn’t make you feel a little funny on the inside. Atsumu was a clearly attractive and successful man, but it felt wrong. Wrong, but not wrong enough for you to play with yourself at night, wishing it was his fingers instead of yours, and fantasizing about a reality where you two could be a couple.

Little muffled moans left your mouth, it was late at night, your mom and her boyfriend already fast asleep. With a hand on your mouth and the other down your pretty baby blue panties, you started wondering how Atsumu’s hands would feel, how his calloused experienced hands would toy with you. The thought was enough to bring you to the edge and you finally released with a whimper of his name leaving your pretty lips. Too tired to move, you fell asleep in the same position, one hand on your stomach and the other on your naked chest.

Atsumu was a morning person. Getting out of the bed he shared with the woman next to him last night, he made his way to your room, hoping to catch a glimpse of you before the day started. Slightly pushing your bedroom door, the sight in front of him left him breathless. Your nipples were perked due to the cold temperature of the room, your sleeping face was so peaceful and calm, Atsumu felt his boxers getting tighter. He didn’t know what pushed him to do his next move, he knew deep down it was wrong but he couldn’t contain himself anymore. He welcomed himself inside your room and quietly closed the door behind him.

“You’re so pretty” he whispered to himself as he placed a knee on your bed and leaned down. A hand of his came up to your face to push away a few strands of hair, letting him catch a better view of you. He placed a kiss on your forehead, “Gonna take good care of you.”

He was quick to kiss the skin of your boobs, warming them up for his hot tongue. He would look up at you once in a while, checking if his ministrations had woken you up but you were still in deep sleep. Feeling bolder, he opened his mouth and let himself suck on your left nipples, coating the little bud with his saliva. He couldn’t stop himself from biting down a bit, causing a little whimper to leave your mouth. He smirked to himself as he continued toying with your chest.

The weight on your chest began to be hard to ignore. Opening your eyes slowly, the sight in front of you almost made you believe you were still dreaming.

“T-tsumu?” your voice was quiet and sleepy, but it only made his cock twitch.

“Shh pretty girl” he kissed your jaw “Just let me take care of you, yeah?”

You nodded. Taking this as a sign, Atsumu properly straddled your hips and helped you take off your shirt.

He let out a breath. “Bet you’ve been dreaming about this, haven’t you? Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you look at me when your mom is away.” his voice was raspy and soft, he tried to keep it down. “You’re a dirty girl, you know that? Fantasizing about your mother’s boyfriend.” a low chuckle left his mouth as your cheeks turned a bright red colour.

He left a kiss on your forehead and lowered his hand down your body until it reached your crotch. He didn’t break eye contact with you as his hand toyed with the hem of your cotton panties. With a finger, he circled your clit and hummed as he felt the sticky wetness that slowly grew on the fabric.

“You’re soaking wet. Gonna let me ruin your pretty panties? Gonna let me make a mess out of you?”

You were about to respond but the only sound that left your mouth was a loud moan caused by how two of his fingers pinched your clit. “Please touch me.” you breathed.

“But I am touching you, baby. You gotta be more precise, use your words.”

“Please touch me properly, daddy, I’ll do anything.”

Cooing at your begging attempt, he pushed your panties aside and pushed two fingers inside of you. The tightness made him groan and the sound only made you clench around him.

“I can’t wait to destroy you” he mumbled to himself. His fingers started going in and out of you as his thumb played with your little bundle of nerve. Your little whimpers started growing louder and he wanted nothing more to hear you scream his name but he couldn’t afford getting caught either. He leaned down to press a messy open mouthed kiss on your lips, his fingers still toying with your cunt.

“If you want daddy to keep playing with you, you have to keep quiet.” he said against your lips. You slightly nodded and brought a hand to your mouth, hoping it would lower your sounds.

Feeling you get tighter around his two fingers, he let a globule of spit fall in your cunt, making everything even messier. The sight it was enough to bring you over the edge. You climaxed over his fingers with a hand on your mouth while a few praises left his mouth and traveled to your ears.

“Good girl, good fucking girl.” he removed his hand from your messy hole and gave a small tap to your clit. The gesture made you flinch. “Came around daddy’s fingers with no shame.”

Seeing him bring his fingers to your mouth, you parted your lips open and invited them in. Your tongue swirled around his two digits and you could feel his hard on pressing against your thigh. Grabbing his wrist with two hands, you removed his fingers from your mouth.

“Wanna make daddy feel good now.” you said, looking up at him.

Atsumu swore he lost his mind at that moment. Without wasting any time, he lowered his boxers to his thighs and let his cock spring free. With wide eyes, you wondered if you would be able to take him. He started playing with you using the tip of his cock, sliding it through your wet folds.

“Is it gonna fit?” you asked with a small voice.

“Hm?” Atsumu was mesmerized by how tiny your cunt looked next to him. “We’ll make it fit.”

As he said those words, he pushed slightly into your hole. The tip made it past your entrance. Seeing the tears in your eyes, Atsumu smirked to himself.

“You’re doing so good, doll. Taking me so good” he pushed a bit more, “The worst is already over lemme bottom out, baby, please” he begged as he waited for any form of consent from you. When you nodded your head, he couldn’t hold himself back anymore. With one swift motion, his cock was finally fully inside you. You could feel his tip kissing your cervix and that one spot even you have a hard time to reach. It’s when he started moving that you felt yourself completely lost.

“ ‘so… is so good” you breathed.

“Yeah? Princess is going stupid over her daddy’s cock?” he gave a light slap to your right cheek “Look at you drooling like a dumb puppy.” he chuckled.

He kept drilling into you, muttering a few curse words and groaning when he felt your gummy walls clench around him. He started rubbing messy circles on your clit with three fingers, all thought of waking up your mom were already forgotten, he just wanted to feel you cum around his dick no matter how loud you two were being.

“I’m almost there daddy” you said as your nails dipped into his forearms.

“Cum for me, baby, wanna feel you cream”. He groaned

A few more thrusts were enough to make you come undone around him. The clenching of your cunt had him spill his load inside you. With his cock still in your warmth, he let himself fall on you, hugging your body closer to his. None of you said anything for a few minutes, still recuperating from the shock of your orgasms. He leaned back again and slowly removed his dick from your pussy, taking a mental picture of how you clenched around nothing as some of his cum spilled out of your hole. He put his boxers back to place and replaced your panties into their original position.

He patted your crotch.“Keep it inside you, don’t want you to waste a drop.”

You hummed, too dizzy to hold a proper conversation. Suddenly, a sense of panic took over you. “Wait daddy, I’m not on the pill.”

“I know, baby.” he placed a kiss on your forehead and left your room as quietly as he entered it.

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hslotharrie · 3 years

Text

To My Best Friend

summary: reader faces quarantine at Harry’s and, turns out, it was exactly what they needed to come clean. also, Anne is the superior Mum.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: completely fluff. with marriage + mentions of family? not edited... when do I ever edit

based off of this ask<3

When you wake, the sun is shining through a slightly opened window in the far left corner of your bedroom. You can hear birds chirping amongst themselves from outside, cars driving far in the distance, it's quiet at Harry's home. Peaceful.

It's been a little more than four months since you and Harry decided to bubble at the beginning of quarantine. What you expected to be a few weeks turned into a lot more, but there were no complaints. Harry has the space, is the type to crave company, and you're his best friend.

Best friend.

You roll in the soft sheets, hugging the covers for a few minutes until you inevitably force yourself to get up for the day. You're not sure what sort of expensive luxury bed set this is, but god, they are comfy. You make a mental note to ask him later.

You zone out again on the soft sounds of the birds and the pleasant cool breeze flowing in through the window. You pull your phone from the bedside table to check the time, 10:56– and the weather, sunny and 78. You consider getting in the pool later.

Harry's phone rings somewhere outside of your room, followed by some muffled mumbling from the man himself signalling that he's awake too. You wonder if he's ate yet; he's a sucker for your omelettes and you're craving one about now.

You climb out of bed, going to the bathroom to tame your hair and brush your teeth, before heading to the kitchen to put together ingredients for the omelettes.

It's about 10 minutes before Harry appears in the kitchen, provoked by the smell. He places a hand on your lower back as a silent 'good morning!' while he stands to your side to admire your cooking. You try your best to ignore the warm feeling that his touch brings; the feeling that makes you wish for more than just a touch.

It makes you nervous, how quickly his presence has you feeling butterflies or how fast he can make you smile when you're in the darkest of moods. You've been sitting on the feelings for years, they were always there, hiding in the back of your head. The feelings that made you wish you'd shared that drink with him just for the second-hand contact to his lips.

Those are the thoughts that make you nervous. You try not to think about them when he's standing right next to you watching your every move with a wandering hand on the small of your back.

He's dressed in a colourful flannel and some shorts, you notice, much different than your fresh out of bed joggers and t-shirt. You make a mental note to change later, and you consider stealing one of his flannels (there's the thoughts again,) just to have his smell on you.

He pulls away from you to begin setting up the eating area, bringing out cups and silverware and then returning with a plate when he senses the omelette is nearly done. He stands to your left with the plate held in both hands like an excited toddler and when you flip the breakfast meal onto his plate he leans over and presses a quick kiss to your forehead in thanks. The thoughts come rushing back; I like when you kiss me, Harry.

"D'you have any plans for today?" he quizzes, before taking a drink of his orange juice.

"Was thinking about going in the pool later," you tell him, "it seemed nice out, an' I love your pool."

"I rather like my pool too," he chuckles "I'll join you, yeah? Could go for a swim later."

When you finish eating, Harry takes the plates to wash despite your protests. You cooked, he argues, so he cleans. You glance at the time, almost 12, and decide that the time it will take to change and freshen up will be enough for your stomach to settle and therefore a swim will be safe.

Returning upstairs, you first search for a bikini and then your sunglasses, changing and adding a pair of shorts. You brush your hair, throughly this time, and tie it up to avoid contact with the chlorinated water.

Before you go back downstairs, you take a minute to look at yourself in the mirror— doing your best not to allow the thoughts to come forward. (You don't think about how your body will look to Harry, and you definitely don't allow yourself to think about what he might think about the bikini you chose. Absolutely not.)

When you return downstairs to the kitchen, the dishes are washed and on the drying rack. Grabbing two cups and straws, you fill each about half with ice and then filtered water; and carry them both out to the poolside where Harry sits contently in the sun.

Unbeknownst to you, Harry's eyes travel along your body through his sunglasses when you appear from inside of the house, wishing he could touch you. His brain flicks back to the phone call he had this morning with his Mum, how she encouraged him to make a move because she knows you're meant to be. His stomach flips thinking about it.

"Do you remember when we went to that party and you pushed that guy into the pool because he was flirting with me?" you smile, sitting down beside him and handing him one of the cold waters.

"Mm, we had to leave because he was gonna' beat me up," Harry chuckles, "I was drunk. Probably lucky he ended up in the pool."

"You were being protective! It was cute!" you defend, rubbing his back lazily in comfort. He looks at you in a funny way, smile faltering a little before he returns his eyes back to the pool.

"M'gonna test the waters so the princess doesn't freeze," He proposes, rising from his seat when you give him a playful smack.

You rise as well, shimmying off your loose shorts and moving to sit at the side of the pool. Watching harry submerge himself first, you let your legs dangle off of the edge and into the water. It's cold, but a pleasant, enjoyable cold in the hot sun.

You sit contently for a few minutes, enjoying the water on your legs and watching harry swim back and forth. You lean back and turn your attention somewhere else, trying to avoid being caught staring. Suddenly, though, a hand brushes up the side of one of your submerged legs, informing you of Harry's presence.

"Y'coming in?" he asks, standing now. He's tall, so your faces are about level now.

"Are you in a hurry?" He's close enough now that he's dripping cold water on your skin.

"Maybe,"

Suddenly, he's gripping your waist to lift you and pull you into the water. You squeal, grabbing his shoulders as leverage as he practically drops you into the water that feels ice cold against your warm sunny skin. He laughs loud and happy when you splash water in his direction as payback.

Soon, both of your energies mellow out. Harry's on his phone, while you're floating around in a doughnut shaped floatie. Harry snaps a photo, but you don't notice.

When it's time to get out, Harry offers to go grab the towels while you float around for a few more minutes. He's driving you crazy in the best way. Your skin still tingles where he had touched your sides to lift you into the water, and your palms burn with the memory of his bare shoulders.

When he returns, it's like his energy has changed. The sight of a shirt over his chest makes you frown momentarily, and he's light on his feet rather than the happy strides he took on his way into his home. You see him tuck his phone into his pocket as if he's been talking to someone again, and when his eyes meet yours the wide smile is hiding something else.

When you slip out of the doughnut and climb up the pool ladder, he mumbles a soft "c'mere" and wraps the towel around your shoulders. His eyes watch you for a little longer than they should've.

"Mum called again," He murmurs.

"I's she doing well? Is that who called this morning?" you question, keeping your attention on his eyes.

"Yeah, woke you up I suppose,"

"Not at all!" You defend.

He goes quiet, picking at his fingernails (a nervous habit you notice he's developed since beginning to paint his nails) and looking off to the side to avoid holding eye contact with you. This makes you nervous, he's never this way around you.

"Harry,"

"I'm sorry, 'shouldn't be such a big deal," he says, letting out an awkward laugh.

A soft smile appears on your face, taking his hands into yours to part them. Gently, you move towards him, pressing yourself wordlessly into his body and allowing his hands to wrap around your towel-covered body. It brings him comfort, and you ignore your own heart beating at the contact.

"Better?"

"A little." He admits. He loves holding you, and sure, it helps his nerves, but he's going to tell you.

His Mum's been on him since he told her you'd be staying with him, telling him “now or never, Harry!”, and he's beginning to realize it really is now or never. He doesn't know how long quarantine will keep up or how much longer you will decide to stay, and he misses you even when you're just running something as simple as a grocery trip.

He doesn't know why he's scared, he knows a friendship as strong as yours could work through anything, Still, there's always the possibility that things could go bad. “Get out of your head!'”Anne would say.

This type of topic between the two of you is quite common, given Harry's music and your tendency to be quite open. However, this type of topic concerning the two of you is uncharted territory.

He thinks about the story you'd brought up earlier. When you'd both went to a party together and some guy, very obviously drunker than the both of you, tried to flirt his way into your pants before Harry had pushed him into the pool himself.

The truth is, he knew you would hold your ground if you weren't interested. Actually, Harry knows from first-hand experience that you don't need protection, you can be very vocal when you need to be, and he's even seen you deck someone at the bar a few years back for touching one of your friends. You were the protector.

That's why, upon seeing Harry at such a nervous loss of words, you had hugged him. It was your own way of protecting him.

"I wasn't trying t'protect you when I pushed that guy into the pool." He states, quiet and unsure.

You only hum in reply, allowing him to finish his sentence but letting him know you heard what he said.

" 'was jealous."

What?

"What?" you pull away from him only slightly, “why?"

"I didn't want stupid—" he pauses for the name "Josh, or whatever, t'be the one to take y'home."

You give him a confused look, now that you can see his face. Not putting two and two together.

"Josh is great! I love Josh—"

"More than me?" he murmurs, and it clicks.

Oh.

"Of course not... Harry," you hesitate, watching his eyes move between your own and his jaw clench.

Is this happening?

"I wanted," his shaky hand finds your arm, sliding down to take hold of your own, equally shaky left hand to toy with your fingers.

"I wanted t'take you home. Crawl into bed with you. Whatever else." he finishes. His stomach is in butterflies by now and he feels the tight, anxiety feeling in his lungs.

It catches him completely off guard when your lips are on his.

When you try to pull away, scared you've overstepped, his mouth only follows your own and his hand rises to your jaw to hold you steady. He feels a weight lifted from his shoulders, holding you, kissing you, like this. This is what he's needed.

When you finally do pull away, it's to go inside. Harry erupts in happy laughter when you make a beeline up the stairs. Nothing happens though, it's too soon and Harry agrees, but that doesn't stop you from curling into Harry's sheets, cuddling and kissing each other while watching one of your favourite films.

Catching up on missed time.

***

The wedding reception.

How did we end up here?

"Honestly," Harry speaks loudly to the crowd of your family and friends within the dinner hall "I have two people to thank for sealing the deal."

You smile wildly, knowing exactly which story he's about to bring up. Your eyes travel through the table groups you and Harry had spent so much time planning out. When your eyes catch with Mitch's he gives you a wink.

"Anne, my beautiful Mother, thank you for not letting me coward out of finally telling my girl how I felt," he pauses, you place a hand on his knee

"And Josh—"

You can't hold back the laugh, especially when the entire room turns to face the poor, completely unsuspecting victim. Josh, face red and confused smile on his lips.

"Years ago, when I pushed you into that pool at your birthday party because— you would've killed me if I didn't run! Because you were talking to her and I got jealous!" the room is erupting in laughter.

The room is full of the most important people in your's and Harry's lives. Still though, your happy eyes are glued to Harry, working the small crowd of people as per usual and telling a story about the time of and before quarantine; of when you'd basically moved in with him and never left.

Later, when you're wrapped in warm blankets and Harry's arms, you're reflecting on your day. The guests, who you'd talked to, what you'd heard.

"Wow. I'm married." he dumbfounds.

Wow is right.

"We're married." you restate for him, giving his hand a soft squeeze.

"Wow. I'm married to my best friend.”

Giggles boil over in the dark room. Harry is astonished suddenly, pupils blown, wide grin on his face. He presses quick kisses to the side of your face and you snuggle into his side more.

"I think we win, H."

#i feel like this was sorta rushed but hskdjsks it’s fine #can you tell i love the zane lowe interview #harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fluff #fineline #harry styles x y/n #harry styles imagine #harry styles friends to lovers #harry styles marriage #request #not edited

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boldlyvoid · 3 years

Text

Amoreena | chapter one

summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, depressed spencer, reader has a daughter, falling in love, strangers to lovers

word count: 3,147

Read on Ao3

There’s this small, tiny part, of Spencer that wants to run away.

He’s always felt like he’s never truly been home, a never-ending and long yearning, a homesickness for a place he didn't even know, eating him alive day by day. It made him want to drop everything and buy a cottage in the woods, to fill it with books and coffee and never see another person again.

It got worse after prison and after his mom asked to go back into a care facility, it hurt the most when Penelope left the FBI and things with Max fizzled out. Then he was really, truly alone again. His apartment felt cold and uninviting, the BAU felt like a chore, using his brain for anything other than taking care of himself was extremely hard.

He needed a break.

So when he walked out of work and straight to his favourite park for an escape, he wasn’t surprised that he didn’t stop walking. Going further and further down the trail, following the dirt path towards a pond, covered by a beautiful willow tree and surrounded by pink, purple, yellow and white flowers. The contrast of the green grass with the colourful flowers, the blue sky and the light green willow tree reflection dancing on the surface of the pond. It was like he walked into Eden, taking a seat by the tree and picking a book from his satchel.

For the rest of the week, it’s his own little sanctuary, escaping desk work and home cases as fast as he could. Even then it wasn't enough and he started going every afternoon, he’d sneak out for an hour and just relax. Reading his book, feeling the breeze on his face, the sound of ducks and frogs competing with the crickets for loudest being in the area. Eventually bringing his bike on the subway to work so he could get there faster.

It was beautiful.

Almost as beautiful as what he walked in on when he arrived Saturday afternoon. Parking his bike by the tree, looking at them carefully as he took his satchel off his shoulders and placed it by the trunk. Craning his neck so he could look at who it was, seeing the purest display of human affection known to man.

A mother and her daughter were having a picnic, dressed up like Miss Honey and Matilda as they had lemonade and snacks, spread out on a blanket as the mother handed her a sandwich wrapped in checkered red wax paper.

Spencer was in awe, sitting on the other side of the pond by a second tree, pretending to read when really he was glancing at them. Their laugher filling the field, bouncing around the trees and filling his chest with warmth.

It reminded him of all the afternoons with his own mother. His head in her lap, the sound of her voice as she shared worlds wisdom with him. He missed childhood, freedom, hope. The will to continue…

When the little girl finally notices that they’re not alone in this little world she’s creating, he sees her tug on her moms shirt, asking her a question before cheering. She picks something out of the basket and comes running towards Spencer.

“Excuse me, sir?” Her sweet little voice asks. “Are you an archeologist or a palaeontologist?”

It makes him laugh slightly, a large smile erupting on his face as he pushes his glasses up and puts the book down. “No sorry, I’m not, what made you think I was?”

“You have a satchel and glasses like Milo from Atlantis, but you have a dinosaur on your tie, you look like you work at a museum,” she rambled all her thoughts out, much like he did as a child.

“I’m actually an FBI agent,” he whispered.

“Wow,” she whispered back in amazement, “are you like a knight? Do you save princesses?”

“I do," he nodded enthusiastically, "do you know any in need?”

“Her,” she pointed. “I’m Lady Amoreena, the Princess over there says I was a gift to the kingdom but that she’ll never need a prince or king to take care of us, but I think a knight would work!”

He laughed lightly, seeing her mom shake her head as she overheard it, covering her face with her hand, she looked embarrassed.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lady Amoreena,” he put his hand out to shake her’s as soft as possible, noticing the cookie in her hand. “My name is Dr. Spencer Reid,” he added softly.

“Would you like a cookie?”

He smiled as she placed it in his hand, “thank you.”

“Do you like Matilda?”

“It’s one of my favourite books,” he smiles.

“Do you want to have some lemonade and read with us?” Her face lit up, turning back to where her mother was watching from the pond.

“It’s okay, thank you for offering,” not wanting to intrude on their moment.

“We need a voice for Matilda’s father, please?” She begged, overly sweet and incredibly convincing.

“Alright, but I’m warning you if I upstage the princess with my awesome voices, it’s not my fault,” he smiled as he stood up, grabbing his things and starting to follow her over to the blanket.

She took his hand and tugged him along the edge of the pond, dragging him right to were her mother was sitting on the ground.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized softly as he sat down. “She’s very persistent about making new friends. We don’t see many people on this side of the park.”

“It’s fine, honestly, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, by the way,” he introduced himself. “I work with the FBI, normally I’d advice women and their children to avoid strange men they don’t know when they’re alone in the woods like this.”

She laughed slightly, “Y/N Y/L/N, I’m the head librarian at the DC library, and you don’t seem that strange.”

“Neither did Bundy,” he tried to joke, knowing she got it and trusted him when she bit back a smile, eyes twinkling at him in the sunlight.

“My name is Amoreena, like the Elton John song,” her daughter cut in, noticing how they were staring at each other and trying to get the attention instead.

“It’s a beautiful song, no wonder you love it here,” Spencer smiled at her, “do you come here often?”

She nodded, a blush flowing through her freckled cheeks, “have you ever read Tuck Everlasting? The pond here can make you young forever,” her whisper was the cutest thing. She was so full of life, personality and joy.

“I have, you’re right this feels a lot like the field from the book, what other books do you like?”

“I love books,” she lays back against the blanket ever so dramatically. “Matilda, Anne of Green Gables, Beauty and the Beast, I love every story that ends with true love and happiness, and cats.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at her explanation, knowing that feeling all too well. “I have read almost every book ever, more than the entire DC library probably."

“We dress up every week for what ever book we are reading, next week is Peter Pan if you’d like to join us? We’re here every Saturday at 11,” Y/N offered.

“You haven’t even heard me read Matilda from memory and you’re already asking me to come back?” Spencer smirked as their faces lit up.

“No way, prove it!” Amoreena shouted, shoving him lightly to encourage him to start.

“The Reader of Books,” he began, seeing the pages in his mind as he repeated the words. “It's a funny thing about mothers and fathers. Even when their own child is the most disgusting little blister you could ever imagine, they still think that he or she is wonderful.”

“Okay so you know the beginning,” Y/N teased, opening the book to a random page, “what's on page 32?”

"My name is Jennifer Honey," Miss Honey said. "How do you do, Mrs. Wormwood." Mrs. Wormwood glared at her and said, "What's the trouble then?" Nobody invited Miss Honey to sit down so she chose a chair and sat down anyway. "This", she said, "was your daughter's first day at school." "We know that," Mrs Wormwood said, ratty about missing her programme. "Is that all you came to tell us?" Miss Honey stared hard into the other woman's wet grey eyes, and she allowed the silence to hang in the air until Mrs. Wormwood became uncomfortable. "Do you wish me to explain why I came?" she said.

Amoreena thought it was the coolest thing ever, reading the page and jumping up and down when he was correct, “how did you do that?”

“I can remember every word I’ve ever read, I have a pretty interesting brain,” he explained it as overdramatic as he could, knowing she would find it magical.

“You’re so cool!” She swooned, dropping back against the blanket just as dramatically.

Y/N was all smiles, running her fingers through Amoreena’s hair and giggling slightly at the sight of her silly child. “Spencer, would you like to do the honours today?”

She handed him the book, knowing he didn’t need it. He gently opened it, starting on the first page and starting to read it the way his mother would. Bringing out voices, hand gestures, all the bells and whistles.

They were in the field together until the sun started to set, casting a purple and orange glow over the pond. Amoreena was resting in Y/N’s arms, legs extended over Spencer’s lap as they sat close. It was the most perfect Saturday he has had in a long time. Probably the best day of his life, actually.

“Matilda leapt into Miss Honey's arms and hugged her, and Miss Honey hugged her back, and then the mother and father and brother were inside the car and the car was pulling away with the tyres screaming. The brother gave a wave through the rear window, but the other two didn't even look back. Miss Honey was still hugging the tiny girl in her arms and neither of them said a word as they stood there watching the big black car tearing round the corner at the end of the road and disappearing for ever into the distance. The end.”

He closed the book softly, setting it down on the blanket and looking at them softly, “am I still invited next week?”

“Absolutely,” Y/N smiled, “I’m dressing as Tinker Bell, Amoreena will be Peter Pan, and you can be anyone else of your choosing.”

“I’ll keep it a surprise until next week,” Spencer smiled right back.

Amoreena crawled out of Y/N’s lap and leapt into Spencer’s arms, hugging him tightly in her small arms. “That was the best story ever, thank you!”

Everything in the world felt right then, hugging her back while he smiled at her mother. Y/N had a hand over her heart as she swooned, watching her daughter bond with the man who just happened to wander into their picnic.

“Can I get your number?” Y/N asked softly, “you know, so we can arrange outfits and stories as the week's pass.” She shrugged, licking her lips slightly as she blushed.

“Of course, I’m not on duty for the rest of the month, so if you wanted to go to a museum or anything, I’m free? Since I look so much like I should work there,” he teased Amoreena.

“I’m sure lovey would like that?” Y/N leaned over Amoreena’s shoulder, holding her around her waist and tickling her softly.

Lovey

It was a nickname that made perfect sense in his mind. Amoreena, the keyword being Amore, to love. She was very loveable, incredibly vibrant and full of innocence, a life that was full of possibilities, wonderful like her mother.

“We’re going to the Smithsonian tomorrow to see the Dino’s,” Amoreena’s face lit up. “Do you know anything about them?”

“Surprisingly enough, while I’m not a paleontologist, I know a lot about dinosaurs, and I might have some connections there to see the rare ones,” he exaggerated his voice again, watching her get so excited she started to run around with her arms in the air.

“You don’t have to if you’re busy,” she says softly when Amoreena is far enough away, picking flowers as she ran around.

“I’d love to, actually, thank you,” he whispers towards Y/N. “I haven’t been having the greatest week.”

“Is it okay for me to ask what you do?” She asked, just as softly as Amoreena kept running around the field.

“I’m a profiler, I consult on intense cases.”

“The strange man comment makes more sense now,” she smiled. “we’re looking for a literary historian at the library right now, I’m sure remembering every word in every book would get you hired, you know if you wanted to switch careers for something easier on your soul?”

“I have been thinking of leaving, in all honesty, I’ve actually been having more of a rough 15 years,” he tries to laugh but he just feels frustrated. “It’s been really hard.”

“For everything you see, you’re still a very sweet man, not many people would sit down and occupy his time with an autistic 7-year-old,” she complimented him with a smile, sharing something personal in a way that would fit right into the conversation and not make a big deal. “We really did enjoy your company today.”

He handed her a business card from his pocket, feeling a bit overwhelmed and emotional as he handed it to her, “I've had a wonderful time. I'm also autistic, I know what it's like to want to share the world while no one wants to listen, thank you for letting me join you. Let me know what time you’re going to the museum tomorrow and I will be there.”

Y/N’s face lit up once more, reading the card over before sliding it into her bag. “Do you want a PB&J or a ham and cheese sandwich for lunch tomorrow?”

“PB&J is a great museum lunch,” he bit his lip so he’d stop smiling, it was beginning to feel embarrassing with how much he liked her already. Not used to random kindness from smart and beautiful women.

Amoreena came running back then, handing Spencer a handful of flowers upon her arrival. “For you, Sir Knight,” she bowed as he took them.

“I bid you a good day, my fair ladies,” Spencer plaid along, standing to curtsy back.

“We’ll see you tomorrow then?” Y/N asked from the blanket as Amoreena dove into her arms.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Spencer smiled one last time.

“Bye Spencer!!” Amoreena cheered as he waved, walking back down the path towards the main park entrance.

With his satchel draped over his shoulder, he pushed his sleeves up as he walked towards his bike, overwhelmed by the feeling of joy still swirling in his blood. Peddling his way down the path with a smile on his face, excited to get home and plan for the Smithsonian tomorrow, he was an excellent tour guide.

And he did actually have some connections.

Calling the museum curator, an old friend from years ago who owed him a favour. Asking if there was any way he could show his friend and her kid around the un-displayed dinosaurs and fossils, of course she said yes. People seemed to do anything for Dr. Reid of the FBI.

He thought about her job offer then as he hung up, reaching the train station finally and making his way back to his sad apartment. It would be nice to change things up for a bit, it’s not like he couldn’t go back to the FBI in 20 years like Rossi did.

15 years in the field and a metric fuck ton of trauma later, he was officially fed up. Opening his computer the second he got home, writing his 2 weeks notice to be forwarded to Mateo Cruz.

—

He woke up with excitement, for the first time in years.

Well, at first he was happy, then he thought about it too long. Despair creeping in, it was truly sad to think that he’s been sad for so long, desperately needing the happiness Y/N and Amoreena brought to his life.

Like when he spent time around Henry or Hank, there was something so rewarding about witnessing a child see something for the first time. Explaining the world to them, seeing their eyes widen as they enjoyed the world around them.

It was the best thing someone could do, spending the day living with the happiness of a child.

Y/N had texted him right as he woke up, the chime of a new message actually making him smile instead of panic.

Y/N: hey smartie pants, we’re thinking 11 am today. Can we meet you out front?”

Spencer: sure! You should start preparing to hear me ramble all day long. Also my I suggest bringing proper shoes for lots of walking and a backpack for the things Amoreena will get to bring home!

Y/N: oh you weren’t kidding about those connections huh?

Spencer: nope!

Y/N: well, can’t wait to see what you have in store for us! (And to hear your voice all day ♥︎)

It made his heart swell, he could swear it grew three sizes as it pushed against his ribs. Trying to break free from him and run to her, he hadn’t felt this strongly about another person in a very long time.

It wasn’t lust, it wasn’t greed, it wasn’t desperation. He didn’t just want to sleep with her or use her to fill his time, she wasn’t just another friend to occupy his days and talk to when he had to, she was special. She was interesting, she was kind, she was beautiful, she reminded him of his own mother in a strange way that made him fear Fraud was right.

He found a comfort in her that felt a little like home, like all his running led him to her. She was the end of the finish line, the cold glass of water, the euphoric pride of a job well done. She was everything good wrapped up in a beautiful bow and he was gone.

Feeling like he did when he met Ethan, Derek, or Elle for the first time, even Maeve when they were just talking on the phone, that butterfly feeling that excited him to try something new.

Y/N made him believe in possibilities again.

It felt nice to look ahead, to dream and wish of the future and not see death and destruction. Instead, dreaming of them running through the fields, flowers dancing everywhere as they hear Amoreena’s laughter. It’s how life is supposed to be.

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #amoreena #fluff

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eldritchtickles · 3 years

Text

A Lesson in Love and Dunamancy

And here's one of those once in a moon fics I write! Inspired by an ask from a long long while ago that I cannot find anymore lmao. But enjoy some wizard tickles! And of course a big thank you to the Critickle Role discord for not only lotsa ideas, but also keeping me writing this with your own amazing work lmao. Enjoy!

Fandom: Critical Role

Characters: Essek Thelyss, Jester Lavorre, Caleb Widogast

Word Count: 2665

“And as you can see here..”

The dark skinned hand moved lightly across the thick paper, gentle fingers tracing the runic symbols etched into its form. Essek’s eyes were focused as he read through the ancient script, while Caleb’s followed the drow’s finger with intent. Both wizards were sat closer to each other than either seemed to realise, leaning deeply into one another. The room was cosy, hazy with incense with small candles floating lazily through the air. Calm, oriented, as a wizard’s study should be. “These dunamantic symbols are the basis for most spells”, the Shadowhand continued. “Any current spell relies on these calculations, and predictably any new ones would include them too.”

“Ah, ja, I see it now…”, Caleb muttered, leaning closer as a slight smirk played at the edges of his lips. “I also see you already suspect I intend to play with dunamancy’s limits myself, hm?”

Ah, he was caught. A soft smile came to Essek’s face as he nodded. He knew Caleb Widogast would not be one to leave such magic alone if he could create with it. The transmutation master kept true to his discipline, creating something of nothing at a moment’s notice. Including making a need for Essek to put him back in place.

His face leaned down closer to his human companion’s, a twinkle of slight playfulness in his eyes at Caleb’s snark.

“Yes, Herr Widogast, I imagine you’ll be creating many a spell based on the Krynn magic, hm?”

As Caleb went to retort just as smartly, the gentle cosy candlelit haze of the room was bathed in the harsher light of the hallway outside.

“Oh Caleeeeeeeb~!”

Both wizards were suddenly acutely aware of their close proximity to one another as Jester Lavorre loudly interrupted their study session. In a second Caleb found himself alone on the floor as Essek’s floating spell took effect and jettisoned him into a more regal standing position, even if his face was flushed an embarrassed lilac colour.

“OH!’, Jester exclaimed, a not so sorry grin on her face as she surveyed the suddenly awkward tension she had created. “I didn’t meanto interrupt you two cuddling-“

“Jester!!”, Caleb yelped, embarrassment lending his voice a strangled tone as he stumbled to his feet and brushed himself off and cast a glance to Essek. “You… You did not disturb anything. Was there something you needed from us this urgent?”

Jester was already in the room as the wizard spoke to her. She inspected the floating candles overhead, courtesy of the magic inside Caleb’s Tower, giving each a slight poke to watch it bob away free of gravity. She cast a teasing grin at the two flushed wizards, before diverting her attention to the dunamantic scroll on the floor as she spoke.

“Weeeeelllllll”, she began, nose scrunching up as she tried to understand the arcane glyphs. “Beau asked me to get you! She needs help compiling notes, and said ‘his stupid keen mind would kind of be helpful’. So I came to fetch you for her!”

“Ah scheisse, you’re absolutely right”, Caleb said with a small groan, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Essek, would you remain here? I promised Beau earlier I’d help her with her endeavour, I’ll finish quickly and be right back to continue.”

“Ah, quite, yes…”, Essek mumbled, glad to feel the blush on his cheeks calm down. “Take all the time you need, alright? I’ll prepare the next part of the lesson in the interim.”

No more words passed between the two, just a polite smile and a nod before Caleb parted to help his comrade. Soon as the door closed, Essek let out a slow breath. What had he been thinking? This was a professional relationship, student and mentor, and yet he had been practically sitting in Caleb’s lap as he had taught. Where was his usual maturity? Had he gone mad? Really, he had to get his act together before someone thought-

“Essek likes Caleb~!”

The Shadowhand froze up. The heat of his lilac blush returned, reaching his ears this time. Just over his shoulder was the grinning face of Jester, he knew it. He could practically fucking feel her waggling her eyebrows suggestively at him. Damn tieflings.

He rounded quickly on the woman, face not seeming able to decide between incredulous, embarrassed, or angry. Probably a mix of all three.

“Jester I- You can’t think that- That’s just not-“

A breath. Nerves calmed.

“…….. Ms. Lavorre, you cannot make such claims about two acolytes. It is in very bad taste, our relationship is strictly-“

“Oh come ooooon, Essek! Admit it, you like the stinky wizard!”, the tiefling said in a lilting voice, walking around to his front so she could stand on her tip toes till her nose met his, which made him make a funny face as he floated back a step. “I mean, no one will blame you. Caleb is charming, and sweet, and kind of dirty but that can be fixed, and he’s so clever, Essek! And he’s-“

“Jester, I do not-“

His voice caught in his throat, before a pout was brought to his face as the drow turned from the intruder on his lesson. He started to spread out another spell scroll, putting all his effort into making sure he was solely concentrating on this.

“I would prefer not to speak on this topic if you don’t mind Jester.”

If it were anyone else, they might have taken the hint. Essek’s exterior had turned icy and aloof, as it had been when they first met, and was usually enough to deter more questioning. But while her insight may not be as good as Caducueus, Jester had enough of it to see through the drow’s shit.

“You are such a liar!!”, she whined, accentuating her point with a poke to the back of his ribs.

It took Essek a few seconds to realise through his brooding that he had squeaked.

It took a few more to have him pinned on his back underneath the grinning tiefling.

“Jester, this is most- A-Ah, Jester!!”, the Shadowhand blustered, squirming slightly as a clawed hand gripped his ribs. He was not used to… Physical touch. Much less being pinned with his arms above his head, straddled by a strong blue trickster. His blush was back in full swing.

“Well, are you going to tell me Essek~?”, Jester asked, that familiar lilt in her voice that meant a plan was in motion. “Or, we could juuuuuuuuuust…”

She accentuated her point with a gentle waterfall of tickles cascading down the stretched out ribs beneath her. Those pointed nails cut through Essek’s shirt worse than any blade, a choking giggle trapped in his throat now he expected it this time. That didn’t mean it didn’t- No, if he admitted the word to himself he’d be doomed.

“M-Ms. Lavorre, I would kindly ask you-“

Shit, he almost laughed as she brushed the area right under his arm. Deep breaths.

“I would ask you let me gohoho!! Dohohon’t!!”

That was most definitely a whine.

“Wow Essek, I knew you were squishy but even Caleb can hold out longer”, the girl teased with a giggle, concentrating her free hand on the wizards lower tummy. It was the spot that had earned the giggle, and with a slight ruffle of his shirt that dark drow skin was exposed to the air and a tiefling’s evil fingers, fluttering along his waistline. “Aren’t you the most ticklish Shadowhand in the Dynasty~! Tiiiiiickle tickle, Essek!”

“I am… T-Thehehehe only Shadowhand and you knohohow this full wehehehell Jester- DOHOHOHON’T SAY THAHAHAHAT!!”

She snickered at the little squeak as he said her name, and the subsequent shout at such a little tease. The poor man’s face was flushed so much you’d think him drunk, the only thing worse would be- oh, she couldn’t-no, definitely could. Artagan would be sorely disappointed if she didn’t.

“Ok Essek, time to get real!”, Jester said with a serious face, nodding to the giggly elf beneath her as if in agreement on what she was about to do. “When you want to tell me how much you looooooooove Caleb, you let me know, ok Essek?”

“W-What? Jester, wait, what?”, Essek asked as he regained his breath, diaphragm working overtime to get back oxygen lost to giggles. His mind was already slightly addled, not even realising his arms had been let go. He quickly did take that into account, if only because they had shot down to grab Jester by the horns and try push her away as a scream ripped through his body.

“JEHEHEHEHESTER!! THAT IHIHIHIS- EEEEEEHEHEHEEE!! TERRIBLE STOP IT STOP IHIHIHIT!!”

Ignoring his pleas, Jester just giggled and shook her head in amusement before returning to nibbling gently at the soft stomach beneath her. The tiefling’s hands held Essek’s hips down as her thumbs gently massaged a ticklish touch into the dips in them. His back arched as the sharp little teeth scraped along his skin, and as Jester cast a look up at his face her eyes lit up like a Winter’s Crest tree.

“You’re crying?!”, Jester giggled, an incredulous look on her face. Essek’s head was tilted back in ticklish ecstasy, eyes screwed shut as streams of tears stained his bright lilac cheeks. Frankly, it was the most adorable sight Jester had ever seen! And she knew she was close to getting an answer from the deathly ticklish drow.

“P-Plehehehease, Jester, just not my stohohomach...”, Essek pleaded weakly, hand still tangled in the tickle monster’s hair and horns. “I’ll do anythihihing, just not there..”

“Anything, hm?”, Jester pondered, raising herself from his stomach to give him a break and smoothing his shirt back down. Even thatearned a squeak, she noted. “Liiiiiiiiike….. Admitting you have a teeny, tiny, itsy-bitsy crush on Caleb….?”

There was a solid five seconds of silence as Essek debated with mattered more; his sanity, or his pride.

Jester got her answer as his face turned back to a pout, turning away from her.

She shrugged. Time to try somewhere else.

“Hm, alrighty then Essek!”

In a second, after a slight tousle, Essek’s light form had been flipped so he now lay on his stomach with Jester laying on top of him, facing toward his-

“Jester, don’t you fucking-“

His face burned as she ignored his words, feeling his ankles gripped in a hold by Jester’s deceivingly strong arms. He had of course taken off his shoes on entry of the tower, as any good guest would. Now he was wishing he’d be a bit ruder in the Nein’s abode.

“Oh, I’m just making sure your feet aren’t dusty when your crush comes back! See? I’m helping~!”

Essek thought no such thing as he felt those fluttering fingers returning to his poor oversensitive skin. He felt the tears well up already, which was fucking embarrassing might he add. Speaking of embarrassing…

“A cootchie coo, little Shadowhand~! Don’t be embarrassed, maybe Caleb will find it cute when he finds out how unbearably ticklish you are! He’ll be all like ‘ja, zat is inchresting Essek, you look so cute ven you are laffing unt squirming, tickle tickle my dear’. Just like that! Wow, you reeeeeaaaally hate teases huh, Essek? Let’s test!”

“Lehehehet us nohohot, Jester-“

“I’m going to get youuuuu~! I’m going to tickle these poor, helpless feet!! Aw you’re going to giggle soooo much when I just….”

“Jester, no, Jehehehester- NAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! STOP THIS INSTAHAHAHANT- EEEEEEEHEHE!!”

As her claws scratched from his heel, across his sole, before nestling under his toes to make a wiggling, tickling home for themselves, Essek lost all resolve. He barely kicked anymore, body limp as silent laughter overtook him. Instead he lay shaking from the intensity of it, face sore from smiling so much more than normal, tears rolling hot down his face and falling dangerously close to meticulously written scrolls. All till…..

“I- Pffft nahahahaaaaa!! I LIHIHIHIHIKE HIM JESTER!!”

No sooner had the words left the wizard’s mouth did the devilish fingers below leave him. Essek sucked in deep breaths, grateful for fresh air in his tired lung. Finally, a break… Even if…

His eyes snapped open as his blush deepened. Had he really-

He looked back quickly at Jester, grinning broadly with twinkling eyes.

“Jester-“

“I have to, Essek-“

“You will not, Jester-“

“OH, CALEEEEEEEB-“

No sooner had Jester yelled for the wizard of the hour had she found herself under Essek instead, helped by some sort of gravity spell. His hand was clamped over her mouth to shut her up, a panicked expression on his face.

“Jester, you cannot mention this to anybody, do you understand- DID YOU JUST LICK MY HAND?!”

The look of delight as Jester giggled through the barrier of his hand gave him an answer. Despite his panic, Essek couldn’t help but break a smile. Jester Lavorre was genuinely the silliest girl he’d ever met. But still, he had to keep her quiet… And there was one way to keep her that way.

“Let me explain this in a way you can understand Ms. Lavorre…”

Jester was about to say something rude back, but instead a muffled squeal was all that escaped. Essek had a look of absolute seriousness on his face, not unlike the first time they’d met him, that made the cleric’s eyes widen. Then they snapped closed as his hand goosed her lower rib, extracting another squeal.

“You are not to mention this exchange to anyone, understood?”

His hand moved lower, fingers digging deep into the pocket of her hip. Jester cackled and snorted behind the man’s hand, unable to fight against the dunamantic magic that held her in place. It seemed wizard’s made amazing ticklers, with their dexterous, precise fingers.

“Nod your head if you understand, Jester…”

Essek was enjoying this. He had a grin on his face, one less evil and more proud. Jester was about to nod when the hand at her mouth joined its brethren, both choosing to squeeze at the point where hips met thighs. The laughter that spilled from Jester’s mouth was hysterical, giving her the boost needed to break the spell’s hold on her as her hands weakly tried to pry Essek’s off of her, legs pedalling in the air with how much the Shadowhand’s fingers tickled.

“Ah… Essek? Jester?”

Both parties stopped dead. Neither had even heard the door open, but as they looked they found Caleb standing in the entryway. His face was noticeably flushed at the sight he had encountered, not able to look directly at them. Though Jester and Essek didn’t look at each other, both knew what the other was thinking; adorable.

“I-I apologise, Beauregard had asked the Tower be soundproofed tonight so I did not hear from outside… Should I….?”

“No!! Gods, Light no!!”, Essek yelped, scrambling to his feet and casting a half-hearted glare to Jester, who stuck her tongue out back. “Jester was just leaving, aren’t I right Ms. Lavorre?”

“Oh, of course, Mr. Thelyss~!”, the woman giggled, speeding from the room with a wink to the wizards.

“……… So that was-“

“Advanced interrogation techniques, we shall call them.”, Essek said quickly, trying to keep away the blush once more. Caleb couldn’t help a small smile crossing his face at that, taking a seat beside the spell scroll once more.

“Ah, a different sort of lesson for our cleric, I suppose…”, he said with a small chuckle, patting the spot beside him. “Let us stick to dunamancy for tonight, hm?”

Essek took a few seconds to smooth out his robes and compose himself. Seeing Caleb act so… Normally about all this. It was oddly comforting, to know he didn’t mind. Even stranger, Essek thought as he took his seat, was one observation.

That wasn’t so bad.

“Perhaps a lesson for another day, Mr. Widogast?”

He caught the way Caleb flushed and concentrated on the scroll, along with the small embarrassed smile that returned.

“Heh. Another day, yes.”

#critical role #critical role tickle fic #critickle role #caleb widogast #essek thelyss #jester lavorre #shadowgast #tickling #tickle fic #eldritch writes #YES WELCOME TO MY LONGEST FIC #i spent so fuckin much time on this akdskd #hopefully people like it tho!!

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barnesbabee · 3 years

Text

𝓹𝓵𝓪𝔂 𝓭𝓪𝓽𝓮 - 𝓽𝔀𝓮𝓷𝓽𝔂

|| ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ || ⇜ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ - 20 - ɴᴇxᴛ⟿

⟿ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: No sensible person would turn down their boss if they looked good as good as Seonghwa. But maybe they would wish they had…

⟿ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴘᴛ: CEO!Seonghwa x reader, bestfriend!Yunho x reader || Social Media!AU || no gender specified for the reader

A/N: IM SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: (send me a DM or an ask to be added) @ateezappreciation @shinyddeonghwa @lilithpooped @cloudyyeonnie@yeosangmystar @wooyoung-a @sanisms @mingismoon @lovelyvitamin @anawwyd @annasbannas @im-just-trying-to-survive-man @uglychildd @oddlittlefandomist @hwahomie @jin-neck-shaft @lovelyvitamin @yeosangmystar @skmoonchild @lovelymultiwrites @sunwooyoung

The day was long and silent, and although no one had gotten any sleep, no one could close their eyes for more than a minute. The haunting picture of Yunho's dead body and splattered blood clouding their minds. The only one who hadn't seen the body yet was Jongho, but he was too busy trying to make sure Mingi wouldn't freak out again.

The five of you eventually fell asleep, when your bodies finally calmed down and gave in to the temptation.

You were, however, suddenly awoken by a loud noise of something falling. All of you sat up straight in the living room and looked around. There were only four of you. Mingi.

All of you stood up immediately and began searching the house in a panicked state, calling out for Mingi as you did so.

"Are you fucking kidding me!?" Seonghwa yelled, after a couple of minutes of looking.

You all ran towards where he was. You found Seonghwa holding a crying Mingi by the arm, in the attic of the house.

"What happened?" You asked.

Seonghwa roughly pushed Mingi towards you all.

"I got here and this dumbass had opened the skylight and was trying to get onto the roof!"

San held Mingi's hand and moved the man to stand behind him, angrily looking at Seonghwa.

"Hey man, take it easy." San advised.

Seonghwa placed his hands on his hips and widened his eyes.

"Take it easy? Take. It. Easy!? There's already a dead body in my fucking house, from a situation that I had nothing to do with, mind you, and I was about to have a second body to bury because of this fool's bad choices. I am helping you idiots out a lot and you're pushing me to the limits, okay!? I have a lot to lose here. I have a company to run and a lot of people that are going to lose jobs if the CEO goes down as an accessory to murder."

There was only silence, as it dawned on the selfish group what they were asking of Seonghwa.

"I'm sorry." San said, not even able to lift up his head and look Seonghwa in the eye.

The latter shook his head and walked away.

"I'm leaving the house. Keep an eye on that douchebag."

The sound of the front door slamming echoed in the house, and all of you felt incredibly embarrassed. Once you got back to the living room, Jongho surprised all of you. He sat Mingi down on the couch and stared down at him.

"I'm tired, Mingi. I really am. You made those two go out into the woods to fetch a dead body, you made them scrub blood off of walls and off the floor, you made Seonghwa, who doesn't even like you by the way, he's doing this for Y/N, hide a body in his house, and you were going to kill yourself!? Are you that much of a fucking coward!? Mingi you're not 16. You're a grown man, you're almost 22, it's about time you start taking accountability for your actions, we can't baby you forever, 'cause it's getting tiring. We're all desperate here, and we have to worry about yourselves, about dead Yunho, and now about an unstable manchild. Focus on the fucking reality Mingi."

Jongho was straight-up yelling by the end of his rant, eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets and face red, out of anger. He then stormed off, just like Seonghwa, leaving a very quiet and tense room.

San sighed and sat next to his friend.

"You know, he's right Mingi. Maybe should've worded it better, but you really can't do what you were about to do... You were about to screw us all over when we are risking our lives to help you. This isn't just about you anymore."

Mingi could only nod, and cry, as his aching throat wouldn't allow him to do anything else.

You sighed and stood up.

"I'm... I'm gonna go find Seonghwa, I need to apologize."

You picked up your coat from the coat hanger near the door.

"You know where he is?" San asked.

"I have an idea..."

You were sure he was back at the office. He felt comfortable there, it was a place where he could take his head off of all his worries. Also, he kept his best whiskey in his office... It wasn't very far from his house, but you were impatient, you needed some time alone with him desperately. You showed your pass to the security by the entrance and they let you through, as you hurriedly made your way to the CEO's office.

You could hear two voices chatting from the inside, you didn't quite recognize the other person, but you were pretty sure it was Hongjoong. You knocked on the door softly, ignoring the big 'do not disturb' sign.

"I- Hongjoong what the fuck didn't I ask you to put the sign outside!?" You could hear Seonghwa ask.

You heard his heavy footsteps walk closer to the door and for a second you were afraid, maybe you shouldn't have come...

The door opened slowly before you, however, interrupting your thoughts.

"My apologies but I'm currently- oh it's you baby." Seonghwa pulled you in a big bear hug as soon as he realized who you were.

You hugged him back, a little hesitant with Hongjoong seeing you two acting romantically. Seonghwa realized you were a little stiff and pulled away, then realizing what the discomfort was about once he saw you looking at Hongjoong.

"Oh, I told him... I hope it's fine. He's kind of known from the beginning."

You closed the door behind you and followed Seonghwa into his office, as you looked at Hongjoong with an 'oh really?' look, making him chuckle.

"Well I did try to call dibs on you when you got hired but he got salty about it, and then every time I made a comment about you he'd get mad. I still did it though, I knew something was going on and I wanted him to tell me." Hongjoong explained as he smiled brightly.

"Yeah yeah good times, why don't you tell them about 'wanting to bend them over your desk and making them beg'?"

Hongjoong's head perked up and his eyes widened, as his ears turned bright red.

"Seonghwa what the fuck-" He whispered, feeling a little uncomfortable in the room.

You were a little embarrassed, but also proud.

"It's fine, plus," Seonghwa got up from his chair and stood behind you, grabbing your hips in the process "they like it. They love to hear how they want to get fucked, isn't that right, Y/N?"

You pressed your thighs together and kept your gaze focused on the ground. Seonghwa gripped your jaw and forced you to look at Hongjoong.

"I- I do like to hear that..."

Hongjoong chuckled and got closer to you, inspecting your body from head to toe.

"You're one lucky son of a bitch, Seonghwa..."

Seonghwa rolled his hips against your ass, so you could feel his boner.

"Hmm, I am aren't I..."

You chuckled and decided to take the opportunity. You knew Seonghwa liked to relieve his stress with sex, and you owed him at least this much for helping you out.

"What's so funny, doll?" Seonghwa asked, curious about your chuckle.

"I was just thinking about all the times you called me a filthy whore, when you're the one practically begging to have a threesome with me and your best friend... Who's the whore now?" You teased, knowing you were pushing all the right buttons.

"Ooh, are you gonna let them talk to you like that."

Seonghwa chuckled as he gripped your throat.

"No, I'm not."

He turned you around and pushed your body against a wall, keeping you trapped by his own body.

"You know which buttons to push doll, maybe I'll reward you for that later. But now, you're going to take this cock in that pretty little hole of yours, and then you'll suck off Hongjoong. Wouldn't want him to feel left out, would we?" Seonghwa asked, with a devilish smirk.

"No sir, we would not." You replied, wearing the same smirk.

Seonghwa felt as if he was falling in love with you right there and then, he felt like he finally found the perfect match, but he could leave the sappy shit for later.

The man placed a short, but intense kiss to your lips before gripping your hair and guiding you to kneel in front of Hongjoong.

"Come on baby, show him what you can do, make me proud."

You smirked and looked up at Hongjoong, as you worked in taking off his suit pants. You slipped them off, along with his boxers, and his hard dick nearly slapped you in the face. It wasn't huge but damn was it pretty. You teased him a little, licking a long stripe, from the base to the tip, teasing the head with your tongue, causing him to groan.

"They always like this?"

"Yeah, they like to see me suffer, but it doesn't last long 'cause..." Seonghwa paused and knelt right beside you, pushing your head so Hongjoong's cock would be fully in your mouth "I'm impatient. But they like it rough."

Seonghwa sat on his desk, as he watched his best friend fuck your mouth, slowly. He pumped his cock to the same pace your head moved, and you'd soon start hearing small groans from both men.

"Shit, Y/N, on all fours."

You complied, pulling out of Hongjoong. He groaned at the cold air hitting his member, as he missed your mouth already. Seonghwa knelt behind you, and entered you very slowly. Hongjoong was about to put his dick back in your mouth, but your partner stopped him.

"Y/N, colour?"

"Green, very green."

Seonghwa smiled and slapped your ass lightly, then giving Hongjoong the green light to continue.

You had to hold off your orgasm a couple of times, as the feeling of both men filling you up and the sound of their needy moans was too much to handle.

"Do you wanna cum?" Seonghwa asked, figuring it out from how much you were clenching.

"I'm almost there baby, you can cum, cum for us."

A couple more thrusts and a spank from Seonghwa were all it took to take you over the edge. It didn't take both men much to 'cross the line' either, Hongjoong painting your face with his cum, and Seonghwa your ass. Their moans combined was something you secretly wanted to hear again.

Seonghwa picked you up, bridal style, and looked at you.

"Come on man, I wanted to kiss her." Seonghwa complained, as your lips were stained by Hongjoong's cum.

Hongjoong felt embarrassed, after coming down from the high he wasn't as confident as Seonghwa.

"Are you okay darling?" Your partner asked, brushing your hair away from your face.

You just nodded.

Seonghwa and Hongjoong helped clean you up and both got dressed.

"I guess you should go deal with the... situation."

You looked at Hongjoong with a confused face, as you zipped up your trousers.

"Situation?" You asked.

"Remember when I said I told him everything? I meant everything."

You widened your eyes once you realized what he meant.

"Seonghwa are you insane!?"

"Calm down Y/N, he's not snitching on anyone! Plus I needed to tell someone who was on my side. I was going insane with your friends constantly baying Mingi."

You sighed. You really couldn't be mad at him for it. You hugged him and kissed his cheek.

"You're right... I'm sorry I got you involved at all and thank you."

Seonghwa kissed the top of your head.

"It's fine, let's just get this over with so I can be with you."

Your bid goodbye to a (still) very embarrassed Hongjoong and left, so you could go back home and deal with the drama. You wished you could just take the car and run away, and live by yourselves until it all washed away, but it wasn't that simple. And it was about to get even more complicated.

When you got to the house and opened the door, a weeping Jongho stood over San's limp body.

"What!? What the fuck happened!?" Seonghwa asked as you and him rushed to check on San.

"I- I don't know! I left after you did" He said, hinting at Seonghwa "and when I came back Mingi wasn't here and San was on the ground. He's still breathing but I don't know what happened."

"What!? Why did you leave?" Seonghwa asked.

"Everyone was upset at Mingi for constantly behaving like a child and Jongho yelled at him and told him to stop expecting us to baby him and that he had to take responsibility for his actions, it got too much and Jongho had to leave for some air..." You explained.

"Responsibility for his actions?..." Seonghwa repeated to himself, trying to figure out what happened, and suddenly a sad idea popped into his head.

He ran into the garage, leaving you and Jongho confused, and holding San.

The man came back just as quickly, looking preoccupied and horrified.

"The body is gone."

69 notes · View notes

tartagilicious · 3 years

Text

[CN] Flower Language (Victor)

yall that have been waiting for this date may not find this as funny as I do but 😭 I went to finish what I thought was this translation and the video i had been using somehow closed, but when i found what i assumed was the same one again, i was confused because the content was different 😀 i translated most of a completely random date and i have no idea which it was LMAO

It would be great if Victor were here. I was standing in the garden where the warm wind was lingering, and I suddenly thought so.

A week ago, I came to this small European city in order to get material for a show, and participate in their traditional festival, a “carnival”. Although the celebration is coming to an end, the enthusiasm of the people and the festive atmosphere are not diminished.

I looked at the people gathered under the tree and heard their laughter. Somehow, I suddenly wanted to share everything in front of me with Victor. So, I took out my phone and subconsciously dialed his number.

MC: Hello, Victor, are you busy?

Victor: No. Is something happening?

MC: Nothing. I just wanted to tell you that I’m standing in a very beautiful garden right now. Probably because of the festival, the surroundings are crowded with people, and there are others singing -- can you hear it?

I took the phone and circled it in the air, and when i put it back to my ear, there was not a sound in the receiver.

Victor: I can hear.

MC: Did you know that there is a very special wooden sign hanging on the tree in this garden? It has something to do with “flower language”.

I looked up at the wooden signs swaying on the branches, they made a clear and pleasant sound in the wind.

MC: People can choose the wooden sign painted with the flower language they want, remove it from the branch, and write their name to save it. There are many kinds of flower languages, from wealth, love, to health, career, and so on.

I was babbling, listening to the even breathing in my ears. Victor didn’t speak until I finished speaking, and there was a slight smile peeking out of his lazy voice.

Victor: You hung one up?

MC: Not yet.

Even though I knew he couldn’t see me on the other side of the phone, I shook my head.

MC: There are many things I want, and I haven’t been able to make up my mind for a while.

Victor: Such as?

MC: Such as…

If only you could stand here with me now. I said this silently in my heart.

There was silence in the earpiece for a few seconds, and we seem to have not spoken tacitly, just quietly listening to each other’s breathing. After a long while, I wanted to relax the atmosphere, so I just smiled.

MC: I can’t remember it right now, but my party has to-- actually, rather than using this method, it might be better to tell the omnipotent “Victor Li” directly what I want.

Victor: I will be there on saturday.

MC: Eh?

Victor: Recently, LFG accepted a multinational cooperation project, and I will be coming to Europe tomorrow.

I was stunned. I reacted slowly, my heartbeat speeding up a few beats rapidly.

MC: And so…?

On the other end of the phone, Victor seems to smile slowly.

Victor: And so, what you want, you can think about it before saturday.

On saturday, I arrived at the place scheduled by Victor on time. As soon as I walked up to the street, I saw a familiar figure. I took out the funny mask that I had prepared, and crept close to him from behind, intending to give him a “surprise” after having not seen him for so long.

Victor: I haven’t seen you in a while, but your way of greeting hasn’t improved.

MC: !

The mask on my face was taken off without hesitation or fear. I was stunned and met Victor’s teasing gaze.

MC: ...How can you tell so easily every time?!

Victor: Someone who tries to be sneaky every time is too eye-catching.

Victor walked to my side and took my hand naturally. After sweeping around his eyes, his brows furrowed slightly.

Victor: Are there any events here?

I followed his sight and found that the streets were full of ribbons and balloons, and many people in strange costumes walked slowly through the streets with the parades of floats. The carnival atmosphere permeates the whole city, and my vision is full of bright and gorgeous colours.

MC: Well, today is the last day of the carnival, so it is extremely lively. Many locals and tourists will dress up specially to participate in the celebrations to be held next.

Victor: It turned out to be so.

He nodded thoughtfully.

MC: what’s wrong?

Victor: It’s nothing. It’s just that I passed by a store where there are many clothes to buy and more… it was strange.

MC: What, are you talking about props such as an inflatable dinosaur costume and retro tricycle?

Seeing a stunned look flash across Victor’s face, I couldn’t help but laugh.

MC: Haha, don’t you think this event is particularly creative?~

He let go of my hand, bending his finger and tapped my forehead.

Victor: I just think that this kind of activity will indeed be a subject of interest to dummies.

The familiar and long-lost action made my heart jump. I looked at Victor’s face close at hand and suddenly broke.

MC: Victor, do you remember that on the phone before, you asked me to tell you what I wanted?

He stood in a daze, but seemed to remember it.

Victor: What do you think?

I shook my head and gave him a quick smile.

MC: I have nothing I want, except… do you remember the garden I mentioned to you on the phone? I would love to take a look at the scenery with you.

After getting Victor’s consent, I looked at him and walked to the main road of the small town. As the crowd gradually increased, I saw wide streets slowly appearing in front of me, but before we passed by, I stopped at the stagnant crowd.

MC: What happened?

Victor: Let me ask.

After exchanging a few words with a staff member, Victor walked back.

Victor: They said that it’s for traffic safety, and only people participating in the event can pass through here.

MC: Only people in the event…

The original joyful mood was instantly wiped out like being doused by cold water. Probably because I was too obvious, Victor raised his eyebrows slightly.

Victor: Disappointed?

I nodded honestly, but after half a second, I shook my head again.

MC: Although the place i want to go is on the main road, since we can’t get there, let’s forget it.

Seeing my forced smile, Victor’s face tensed.

Victor: Your frown is almost drooping to the ground.

He looked at me for a moment and just sighed helplessly.

Victor: Wait for me here. Don’t run around.

After speaking, before I could react, he walked away and passed through the crowds. The number of people stuck in the street gradually increased, and many people who had chosen to participate in the celebrations flocked to the main street.

Although I wanted to stay where I was, I was squeezed to the edge of the road and drowned in the endless sea of people. I looked at the surging crowd, and I was a little worried that when Victor came back, he wouldn’t be able to find me so easily.

Just at that moment, a sound of horseshoes suddenly came from the side, so I turned my head to look-- The first thing that catches my eye is a gorgeously dressed dark horse, sporting an arrogant posture and dark eyes.

Gradually looking upward, the man on horseback was dressed equally as gorgeously, with an extraordinary presence, most of which was bathed in golden light.

The man’s eyes drooped slightly and his gaze was casted towards me. I tried to slightly bloc the dazzling light with my hand, and gradually, the face in front of my eyes also became clearer.

MC: …! Victor?

There was also a hit of surprise in Victor’s eyes when he looked at me. The daylight broke free of the dense leaves and fell on the tips of his hair, giving off a faint flowery scent and softening the look of his visage. Against the backdrop of the surrounding background, he looks like a gentleman and aristocrat from a television drama.

Just when I was about to pass by, Victor pulled the reins abruptly and stopped. I stared at him in a daze, and for a while I couldn’t tell if this was reality or an illusion.

Victor: Why are you here?

With a “click” i accidentally pressed my phone to take a photo.

MC: Me... I was pushed over here by the crowd. There are more and more people, I was worried you wouldn’t find me, so I planned to take a photo to get your attention.

I put the phone back into my pocket as I said this, worried that he would make me hand over the photo I just captured. However, Victor just looked at me for a long while, showing a helpless expression.

Victor: Dummy.

The horse took a few steps to my spot, and he leaned down slightly to reach out his hand towards me.

Victor: Come up.

I looked at Victor, and being beyond my usual cognition, I didn’t react for a while.

MC: Victor… why are you dressed like this?

Seeing my stunned gaze, Victor turned his face away unnaturally.

Victor: I borrowed it from the shop I just passed by. If it seems like i’m attending the celebration, we can easily follow the main street.

MC: I thought you would feel naive doing this…

Victor: well...

He replied very quickly, subsequently, he slighted slightly.

Victor: But since I have promised you that we’ll go out o the garden, I will not feel naive. Besides, are the naive things I’ve done with you far and few?

The horseshoe stepped on the stone road with a clattering sound. The calm wood scent wrapped me and I leaned my back against a generous and warm chest. Although I rarely ride horses, I feel very at ease at this moment.

A beautiful garden appeared in front of us, and I happily said to Victor,

MC: We’ve arrived!

Victor: Slow down.

With the help of Victor, I got off the horse. Maybe it’s because most people have gone to the celebration, but there are not many people here. Sunlight sprinkled from gaps between branches and fell onto a sea of flowers. The wooden sign hanging on the branch made a pleasant sound in the breeze.

Victor walked behind me with a hint of surprise in his eyes.

MC: Isn’t it beautiful?

I put my hands behind my back and looked at him with a smile.

MC: When I came here for the first time, I don’t know why, but I thought of the “sky garden”. So i have this inexplicable sense of intimacy with this place, and I wanted you to see the scenery here.

Victor quietly looked at the scenery in front of him, and after a short while, a faint smile appeared in his eyes.

Victor: Well, it is beautiful. In contrast, there’s a bit more natural beauty.

He looked up again at the wooden sign dancing in the wind on the branch.

Victor: This is the “flower language” you mentioned to me on the phone that day?

MC: Yes, there are some unique types of flower language here, which is quite interesting.

As I said this, I reached out and touched the pattern on the board.

MC: For example, the flower language of Paphiopedilum is “thrifty and frugal” and the flower language of asparagus flowers is “I want to win”...

Victor listened with good interest and teased me as if in a good mood.

Victor: So, you can’t make up your mind between these two things?

MC: Certainly not! Although I really want these things… But this is my final decision!

As soon as I finished speaking, I handed a wooden sign without a name and a pen to Victor.

Victor: What kind of flower is this?

MC: This is a red geranium. Just write your name on it!

Victor: ...It seems that you arranged this for me a long time ago.

He took the wooden sign and asked faintly,

Victor: What is its meaning in the flower language?

MC: This one, haha… I’ll wait for you to find out by yourself.

Victor glanced at me.

Victor: Dummy.

Even so, he still picked up the pen and wrote his name on the wooden sign stroke by stroke. Seeing Victor’s serious expression, a trace of warmth ran across my heart.

I suddenly thought of the meaning behind red geraniums that I found with my mobile phone in this same place a few days ago. At this moment, I seem to understand the meaning better --

“My happiness exists because of you”.

The sunset quietly dyed the sky red. When we were about to walk out of the garden, I suddenly saw a staff member not far away waving colorful flags at us, and I couldn’t help but look towards them.

MC: Are we so lucky that we won big prizes?

Victor: In terms of probability, it is unlikely.

MC: People should always be optimistic!

Victor: Let’s go and have a look.

Victor chuckled lightly, took my hand, and walked forward with me. When we talked to the staff member, we found that we didn’t win any prizes, he just wanted to help us take a photo together. Although it was not the expected outcome, when taking a photo with Victor, my face burst into a smile involuntarily.

Victor: Why are you smiling? It’s not like it’s a grand prize. Are you happy about the reward?

MC: For me, it’s like winning the jackpot!

I looked at us closely in the photo -- Although Victor’s expression is the same as usual, only a slight smile can be seen at the corner of his mouth, but his hand that hangs beside him is firmly gripping mine.

Behind us is the same beautiful sea of flowers.

Victor: You said that your wish is to let me come here with you. Why?

Victor looked at the photo and suddenly after he said this, he pondered for a moment.

MC: Well... It’s because it’s very beautiful here, and I wanted you to see it too.

Victor: Is it just that?

When I met Victor’s deep eyes, I suddenly felt as if all my careful thoughts had nowhere t hide in front of him. Seeing that I didn’t have a way to get around this, I had to decide to confess.

MC: I was standing here, thinking about you for a little bit.

I lifted my eyes secretly and peeked at Victor, wanting to look carefully at his expression. There was no emotion on his face, only those dark eyes watching me seriously.

MC: Although I only miss you a little bit, this kind of little thought often comes up.

It seems that the more this lively and joyous atmosphere grew, the more people can’t help but miss a certain someone. For a moment, I even wanted to go home and return to the place where I knew he was.

MC: Even though I’d already seen the scenery, with you, it somehow seems to be different. It becomes--

Victor: It becomes special.

Victor whispers. He puts a hand on my waist, and soft emotion flows from his dark eyes.

Victor: Isn’t that right?

Looking at my slightly widened eyes, a faint smile crossed the corner of his mouth.

Victor: When did you get such a bad habit of saying half of what you mean and keeping the rest to yourself? If you want to see me, you can speak directly.

I realised that he was talking about when I called him the other day, and I bit my lip.

MC: These words, you know even if I don’t voice them.

Victor: I know, but this is not enough.

I looked at his defatigable eyes and couldn’t help but sigh lightly.

MC: I’m (not) worried that this will interfere with you. Moreover, I also want to establish the image of a “strong and independent woman” in front of you.

I was speaking from the heart, but Victor was amused by my serious expression.

Victor: You actually set such a goal?

The breath that was close at hand intertwined with mine, and I quietly looked at his hanging gaze.

Victor: In contrast, I have no such ambitions.

He stretched his hands over my shoulders, and as he approached slowly, the familiar scent surrounded me. Just when the atmosphere was right, a “pop” sounded untimely something falling from my pocket and onto the ground.

I reacted immediately.

MC: It’s my flower sign!

I was about to pick it up, but Victor was one step ahead of me and picked it up. He looked at the red geranium pattern on the sign and there was a slight curve to his lips.

MC: Uh, this is a flower card I took before, because I thought it looked good…

With some guilty conscience, I wanted to avoid Victor’s gaze. He spread out my hand and placed the wooden sign in my palm.

Victor: It seems that you already have what you want.

He covered my hand with his palm and slowly closed it so I could feel the weight of the wooden sign in my palm.

MC: …!

I looked at Victor’s face in surprise, reminding me of the scene when he was asked to write on the wooden sign just now. A faint colour couldn't help but climb up on my cheeks -- this person really knows everything!

Victor looked at me with interest, and there was a faint smile on his face.

Victor: Why is your face red?

MC:...It’s just the setting sun!

Victor smiled, but didn’t break contact with me, just holding my hand tighter.

Victor: Well, today’s sunset is very nice.

The sun dyed his eyes, but reflected in the depths was me alone. Someone not far away happily sang a local ballad. Although I don’t understand the meaning, I no longer feel the loneliness of being in a foreign land.

Because the person I cherish the most is by my side right now.

#mlqc #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mr love queen’s choice #mr love queen’s choice spoilers #mlqc victor #mr love queen’s choice victor #恋与制作人 #恋与制作人李泽言

105 notes · View notes

one-boring-person · 3 years

Note

Dumb request but. Uncle Bob gets jealous bc someone hits on thee reader. (It's a funny idea tbh. Also change your name. you're not boring!! you're absolutely awesome!!)

Hehe, thanks for the compliment!😂💛 I loved this idea, so I hope you like this!😊❤💛

Total Strangers.

T-800/Uncle Bob x reader

Warnings: some bad language, some light sexual implications

Masterlist

The terminator goes stiff almost as soon as we enter the store, the unusual behaviour making me lift an eyebrow at him, looking over his perfect posture in curiosity. His imposing frame easily stands out amongst the other shoppers around us, but his new discomfort puts me on edge, aware of his ability to determine and assess threats before I even know they're a problem. With this in mind, I place a hand on the cyborg's arm, looking up into his face in confusion.

"Everything alright?" I ask him, meeting his emotionless stare as he turns it on me.

"Yes." He replies bluntly, still not having quite grasped the balance between using relative information and speaking as briefly as is necessary.

"You sure? You're very tense." I probe, heading further into the shop with him, going to the section I need.

"I am positive." The terminator responds, following me, his eyes scanning the aisles as we move, the careful turn of his head still not quite natural yet, still a little automated.

"If you say so." I roll my eyes at his answers, choosing to ignore his obvious tenseness and start rifling through the racks of clothes, needing to find something to replace a couple of my old shirts.

"I did." Uncle Bob intones, standing over me, his large build hovering over me like a worried mother might fuss over her child.

It's not long before I get fed up with his presence so close to me, the terminator watching my every move, the precision in his gaze making me antsy. He shadows me around, staring at the people around us until they hastily walk away, his unnerving glare usually quite welcoming, though today it is just irritating me. After ten minutes or so, I turn to him, a small scowl etched into my face.

"Can you drop the hostile act? There's no need for it." I tell him, looking him in the eye.

"I am not sure what you mean." The T-800 frowns, cocking his head, a habit he picked up from me a few weeks ago. Usually, I find it flattering, cute, almost. But now it annoys me.

"I mean you need to stop acting like my bodyguard. It's totally safe here! You don't need to scare people off when they come within five metres of us." I clarify, gesturing to the area around us.

"Why? There is a possibility they may pose a threat to you. It is my objective to keep you safe." Bob recites, face going blank again.

Sighing in exasperation, I briefly close my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose frustratedly.

"There isn't any threat, Bob. We're fine, ok?" I try to reassure him, "Just back off a bit, yeah?"

Frowning again, the cyborg nods and steps back, standing by a display of mannequins, his body going still, almost as if trying to blend in with them. Letting out a breath, I turn back to the racks and continue browsing the items there, picking out a shirt and inspecting it, my head cocked to the side, a frown playing at my expression as I consider it.

"Not your colour." A voice behind me suddenly speaks up.

Frowning properly now, I turn to face the newcomer, lowering the shirt as I give them a once-over, checking for any danger they may pose. Finding none, I relax slightly as the red-head smiles at me, showing me he means no harm, his blue eyes straying over my form with no particular subtlety.

"Oh? And what makes you say that?" I reply guardedly, my body moving to face him properly.

The guy shrugs, grinning at me.

"I don't think it will work with your hair, that's all." He tells me, coming to stand beside me, picking out another shirt from the rack, "This, on the other hand…"

Eyeing the garment, I lift an eyebrow as I realise he is right, though I'm far too stubborn to admit it, so I simply place the original shirt back and start moving away.

"Aw, come on! Please don't be like that! I'm only trying to help." The guy follows after me, dropping the shirt and catching up to me.

"I don't take clothing advice from total strangers." I inform him, trying to ignore him as I flick through some more clothes, jackets this time.

"Ah, well in that case, I'm Caleb." The guy offers his hand to me, still smiling, a glint of mischief in his eye.

Glancing at him, I don't react, waiting for him to drop his hand. After a moment, he does, only to instantly pick something off the rack.

"This looks like it would suit you. Wanna try it on?" He looks me over again, holding out the jacket to me.

"Not really."

"Aw, why not?" Caleb pouts, shoulders slumping slightly.

"I told you, I don't take clothing advice from total strangers." I try not to roll my eyes, picking out a different jacket entirely.

"Hey, you know my name. I'm not a total stranger." The smirk is back on his face as he says this.

"You have known her for exactly four minutes and forty-eight seconds. You are a stranger to her." A familiar voice interrupts us, the monotone sounding words muchly appreciated now.

Holding back a smile of relief, I feel my eyes flick up over Caleb's shoulder to meet the hard blue ones staring at the guy's head. The terminator stands over us, his imposing body easily dwarfing both of us, his expression blank, though his jaw looks oddly clenched, something I've never seen him do. Caleb turns to face the cyborg, his expression falling.

"Who the hell are you?!" He bites out, the words flat as he eyes over the much larger newcomer.

"That is not relevant information for me to disclose." Bob replies evenly, staring the guy down, "Now leave. You are not wanted here."

"Fuck no, I got here first. Wait your turn, asshole." Caleb snaps at him, though his tone is a little shaky.

"You are not needed here. Leave." The cyborg intones, disregarding the previous statement.

"How do you know I'm not needed? Think you are?" The redhead snorts, "As if."

"Your presence is very clearly not welcome. She has reciprocated none of your advances, and has been blunt with you to deter you. You have ignored all of this and have continued to pester her for no reason. You are not wanted or needed, so leave." Bob begins, clearly wanting to say more, though he stops at a look from me.

"I'm not going anywhere, and you can't make me." Caleb folds his arms, planting himself in place.

Brow twitching, Bob steps forwards, moving as if to grab the smaller man, hand already outstretched, only stopping when I intervene.

"No, Bob, it's fine. He's not worth it." I stop him, ignoring Caleb's somewhat triumphant look.

Bob halts, staring the other man down, a scowl starting to creep onto his face, staying in place for a good minute, before he finally moves, reaching out to pull me into his body, marching the two of us from the shop. Goosebumps spread out along my skin where he's touched me, the hand at my waist heavy but not unwelcome, the feeling of his hard body pressed into mine making me swallow tightly. We go straight to the car, leaving no room for conversation until we get there, at which point he breaks away.

"What was all that about?" I ask him, confused by his actions, "I mean, I'm grateful that you stepped in, but you didn't have to-"

I'm cut off by the feeling of his large hands on my waist again, yanking me into his muscular body, pressing me flush against his hips. Surprised, I barely register what is happening as he smashes his lips into mine, kissing me roughly, his tongue already slipping out to trace along my lower lip as I gasp into the kiss. My eyes widen momentarily, only to fall closed as I relax into the kiss, my hands coming up to run through his hair, pushing myself closer to him, his muscles right under my touch. The terminator steps forwards, shoving me up onto the hood of the car, still kissing me, his mouth ravaging mine hungrily as his hands start to move, pushing up my shirt to caress my back, one slipping down to grip my ass, tightening around me as he presses his chest tighter against mine. Moaning, I arch my chest into him, allowing him to slip his tongue into my mouth, the synthetic muscle exploring and roaming everywhere it can reach, only pulling back when I tap his arm, needing to breathe.

Heads staying close together, we stare at each other, our breaths mingling with each exhale, his hands still rubbing over my skin. It's only when a wolf whistle from somewhere nearby sounds that I remember exactly where we are. Eyes widening, I pull back further and look around, noticing the group of men walking past, three of them waving and jeering at us, leaving my neck exposed to Bob. Instantly, his mouth attaches to the skin there, sucking a mark onto my pulse point almost immediately, his tongue smoothing over the area, followed by a wet kiss.

Trying not to moan too loudly, I gently push him off, already craving his touch again.

"Not here, Bob. It's not appropriate." I gasp out, lightly running a hand down his face.

"I apologise. I was unable to withhold myself." He replies, helping me down off the car, adjusting my clothes for me.

Lifting an eyebrow, I smile at him in curiosity.

He simply smirks, having learnt the action from John, doing his impression of a shrug and helping me into the car.

#terminator judgement day #terminator 2 #terminator imagine #terminator #t 800 #arnold schwarzenegger

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imissthembutitwasntadisaster · 3 years

Text

rough draft 1/3 of Autumn’s Blood

(so I will be uploading the whole thing by a week from today hopefully but I wanted to get something out on the 21st so here’s about the first third of my story? also this is a rough draft it’s not particularly edited).

@inklings-challenge

There is a woman in the house just out the edge of town, down by the water. She seems to be waiting for something. Ask her what she’s wating for, she’ll tell you she’s waiting for winter.

A funny answer, but it might have something to do with the scraggly trees at the back of the plot, how they’re always bright and burnished bronze, and never green.

But this is starting wrong, and you asked for a story and it’s a good night for one so I have to start right. It starts with the house, it’s true, but before that, or beyond it, it starts with a girl.

Victoria McCrae grew up knowing Spinster’s Shack, as much as anyone could. It seemed to always be there no matter where you went in Firthendoran , lurking on the edge of the horizon, dark against the hills. It was as much as constant as the water she and her friends played on the edges of, the dark wood and old stone looking like it had been there since the first man found his way to this cobbly beach.

No one had ever lived there, everyone knew. (Although sometimes when you looked at it from just the right angle in just the right light, you remembered that someone had lived there, that you had known them, then they had gone away, why had you forgotten? How had you forgotten? But the house didn’t like people remembering, so it made sure to stay at the wrong angles in the wrong light). No one wanted to live there either. You left Firthendoran and talked about it to people in a neighbouring town, it sounded like a great idea. Fill the empty house! Turn it into something kind! But then you returned and something put you off too much and eventually the idea crumbled away.

(We don’t like to remember when we were prey, but it is buried deep and long in our bones and it still clutches at our hearts and stomachs when we face something some instinct screams at. Rationality and logic were the great words of Victoria’s age, but they never truly overcame the terror at the darkness surrounding the campfire).

So Victoria grew up with a darkness of some sort lingering over her, but how many little girls can truly say they didn’t? She grew healthy and well, she was much like all the other girls. Except for in one respect: Victoria McCrae was a coward.

They tried to mould it out of her, of course. Her father took her climbing, to the tops of any crag he could find, and she stuck as far from the edges as she could, even when he called her out to peer over the drop. Her mother was gentler but not kinder: she taught Victoria the way around the kitchen, raising her by the roaring stove, by the talon-sharp knives, in the cold and the rain to harvest and to keep and care and to slaughter. Victoria grew accustomed to these, of course, but never unafraid. Eventually her parents gave up.

The other girls in Firthendoran didn’t mind. Maggie was brave enough for two, everyone said, and she was, the dark colouring and calm eyes she had inherited from her father belying the passion and the fierce kindness and the courage wrapped around her heart. Arlene always walked slightly behind, the sweet image of a quiet follower, but the old women knew most of the strangest and most dangerous plans were hers. Victoria brought up the rear, at first clutching her prized old wooden horse, later merely slinking along with too-long limbs and a slightly whiny trepidation. There were other children in the village, of course, but these three always moved together, leading with pride, following with grace, and trailing behind with concern. An odd trio, but friendships are built on more than shared adventures and are not always explicable.

They had reached adulthood much the same, still always moving as a chain. Arlene secretly had dreams of moving away, immersing herself in some great city, loving darkened street and messy crowds. Maggie could never leave the fields or the woods or the water, they had wrapped themselves too much up in her bones, so she found a young man from a neighbouring village and tentatively began the dance. As for what Victoria wanted, it doesn’t matter now, not anymore. It is enough to know that she did want, very much, despite her fears.

But the early days of autumn were sunny and the early days of autumn were beautiful and the early days of autumn were far too cold, and Maggie for some reason found herself wanting to sneak inside the house like she was a child, explore its nooks and crannies. She told her friends, of course, for they still moved as one whenever they could.

“It would be such an adventure,” she declared one evening, gazing out over the water. Arlene laughed.

“For what, for five minutes? No one goes into the house, Maggie, it would probably fall on our heads.”

“That’s what makes it exciting! And who knows what’s in there, perhaps there’s hidden treasure, an old will unearthing an antique scandal. Why else would it have stood abandoned for so long?”

Victoria said nothing. She never cared to think about the house (or rather, she never cared for the feeling she got thinking about the house, as if the subject were ice and her mind slipping off it if she wasn’t extremely careful). She bent over for a stone, skipped it until it sank into the rippled dark. Her friends were still bickering.

“It was probably abandoned because it was terribly rotten and creaky, and there’s nothing of interest in it. Most likely everyone who’s looked at it has been disappointed, and so will you be,” declared Arlene. It was unlike her, thought Victoria, to be so against such a proposition. Usually she was more daring than Maggie, but she supposed having bigger dreams changed one, and an empty house no longer seemed so special.

Maggie, however, could not be deterred, and a few days later she stomped her way down the muddy side of the water to the house. Arlene did not come with, but Victoria did, feeling that if her friend were to be crushed by a falling beam someone ought to know and be able to get help.

It was the only brave thing she would ever do in her life.

The door of the house, even when it was not open, looked like a great eye, staring out at the two women. Even Maggie hesitated a little as she drew closer and saw the mouldy moss and splintered window-frames, and almost imagined a movement behind the dirt-blocked glass. Perhaps—that almost seemed a figure moving in the front hall! Then she blinked and it was gone, but she knew Victoria believed she had seen the same thing, for she clutched her hand very tightly and had gone all pale.

Still, for Maggie, an adventure had to be followed through. She slowly lifted her feet. The leaves that had rustled under the other trees dotted around the shore were no more here, all the trees were daubed in orange but not a single one had shed a leaf. She walked in almost utter silence, Victoria tripping slightly behind her. Even the wind had quieted, and the water. Nothing moved but the girls, perhaps they weren’t meant to be here, perhaps they broke a still silence that no one ever should have broken. (Perhaps they being here was exactly what the silence wanted).

The door grew bigger, then bigger, then bigger again until it seemed to be all there was and it stood right before them and Maggie felt the strangest urge to knock. Victoria felt only the urge to run away, so strong now that she was sure she would be sick. She balled up her empty hand into a fist. There couldn’t have been anyone inside the house. It was a trick of the light, she was sure. (She was right, of course, but light is often worse than anything for tricks).

If the door had creaked open there before the girls, neither of them would have been surprised, but it didn’t and so it fell to Maggie to push the door open. It moved as if it had not been opened for years, which somehow made everything feel more normal again, for it probably hadn’t been. Maggie tip-toed forward, about to step inside—and her dress caught on a protruding part of the shattering doorframe. She froze, it was a good dress and she didn’t want to tear it. The pale cloth seemed entirely hooked just below the side of her knee, and as she bent to try to detach it, Victoria, without thinking, moved around to the front of her friend to see if she could help.

As she did so, she crossed the threshold.

The door slammed shut, but it was strange how it did so, seeming to turn ghostly as it moved, passing through Victoria like wind before solidifying again. The resounding clang caused her to jump more than the brief glimpse of the inside of wood had, and for a moment she stood frozen in the dark. Then she leapt at the door, clawed at it, wrenched it open.

Maggie wasn’t outside. There was no sign of her, no footprints, no echoes on the wind. No nothing. As if she had never been there. Victoria stared at the piece of wood she had been caught on, unable to move or think. There wasn’t even a thread on it to show where she had been. And as Victoria started to stagger back to the village, calling out Maggie’s name, there was no response from the water or the trees or the wind.

It was a fair ways back and few people ever passed that way, but as Victoria drew nearer into the village she began to hear the everyday bustling of people. She almost wept from relief. Nothing seemed wrong as she slipped onto the main road, there were the usual errands, the usual chatter, the usual animal noises, bellowing and squawking from out the fields. And there was Maggie, the same dress, the same smile, hefting a basket on her hip as she talked with Arlene, the two women’s heads bent close together, dark and light mirroring in the middle of the road.

“Maggie! There you are, you scared me!” cried Victoria, picking up her skirts to run towards them.

“Victoria? What are you doing here?”

“You left me in the house! I thought something terrible had happened. I walked all the way back shouting for you,” she reproved. “Why would you leave?” Maggie and Arlene just looked confused.

“Leave where?” Maggie asked, face scrunched up. There was a strange, glazed look in her eyes, but Victoria hardly noticed. She gaped. She hadn’t thought them capable of such a joke.

“The Shack, of course, You ran away when the door closed, you left me there.”

“She hasn’t been down to the shack today,” said Arlene slowly, brow furrowed. “She’s been with me. Victoria, are you feeling quite well? You seem—”

“I cannot believe you would try to trick me like this! I know what I know, we both went down to the house—”

“I haven’t visited you in weeks! I mean to, of course, it’s always wonderful to see you, but things have been so busy. But I can’t think what you’re talking about and you’re beginning to scare me!” Maggie looked on the verge of tears and Arlene wrapped her arm about her, pulling her close.

“Visit me? What do you mean, visit me?”

“Visit you down at the shack? Your home?” said Arlene. She had the same glassy film in her eyes as Maggie. Victoria’s head started to ache.

“The shack isn’t my home.” Now both women looked worried.

“Victoria, you’ve lived in the shack as long as anyone can remember. Are you sure you’re not ill?”

The McCrae’s door had always stuck a little when you opened it, but usually no one minded. Today, however, as Victoria threw herself against it, the slow creaking almost drove her frantic. Finally it opened enough for her to push through. Mrs McCrae stood in the kitchen, just turning to see who might be entering so violently.

“Maw!” Victoria threw herself at her mother, clinging to her like a child. It had all been a trick then, it must have been, the girls were just more convincing than she had known. Everything would be ok and Maggie would apologise and they would all go on just as they were—

“Victoria, what’s wrong? And why did you call me Maw?”

“Because you are my Maw, because you—"

With a sick frost growing in her, Victoria realised her mother had not hugged her back. She slowly pulled away.

“You’ll be honest with me, aye? You wouldn’t— you wouldn’t make fun of me, try to trick me?”

“No, of course not dear! Now tell me, what’s wrong?” Maw looked worried in the same way Maggie and Arlene had looked worried, like she was facing an acquaintance who had become a maniac. Her red hair, the same as Victoria’s was falling loose from where it had been pulled back, and there was flour in the air like a halo around her. She smelt like bread, like the kitchen, like home. But something (reason perhaps, pessimism, who can say, certainly not me), was whispering to her that any home this had been was gone now. She thought out her words carefully, as carefully as someone facing true panic could.

“How long have I lived in the house? In Spinsters Shack?” Maw squinted, and for a moment Victoria had hope.

“Oh I couldn’t possibly say, it’s been as long as I can remember. Surely you know?”

“Yes… yes I suppose I do… how many children do you have?” her voice shook as she asked. Please say five, she thought. Just say five and it’ll all be over, please just say five.

“Why, the four of them! All growing up, aren’t they? They’re a fine pack though, though I do say so myself.”

“What are their names?”

“Well there’s Alan, and Grant and Hannah of course, and little Jock. They—”

“Maw!” There were enough tears pooling in Victoria’s eyelids now that they couldn’t all stay in, so they tumbled and slid down her cheeks like great dollops of grief.

“Child, what on earth’s the matter?” Maw took her arm and pulled her over to the table, dropping her in a chair. “You seem all in a crisis!”

“You’re my mother it’s me it’s Victoria I’m your daughter,” she sobbed out, gripping Maw’s hand tightly, throat thick with anger and confusion and sadness. Maw seemed to hesitate before she answered, and for a moment there was something good growing in Victoria’s chest, for a moment there was hope and she dared to look up at her mother. But the only thing there was glazed-over eyes (it almost looked like spiderwebs now she was so close to it) so she let her head fall again. And then it came, just as she knew it would.

“I think you need to rest, you must be confused. I’m not your mother. Maybe you can tell me about her, your real mother. What was she like?”

Some people, were they there in her place, may well have fought longer and harder, argued, talked about details only someone in the family could know. But as Victoria’s heart broke within her she accepted defeat. Cowards are good at knowing when to give up, at least. The table was steady under her hand as she pushed herself up, and inwardly she grieved also for the thousands of meals eaten there, for the kitchen full of confidings and long fires in the cold nights. She took a breath, then another, then turned towards Mrs McCrae.

“I think… you must be right. I was just a little confused. I’m sorry, I’ll go now.” The only thing holding her up was her spine (and nowadays biologists would tell you that’s the only thing ever holding you up, but human beings know it’s actually only a very small aspect of standing). But she knew she could not crumple here again. So she walked out.

I shan’t tell you about the walk back to the house because Victoria herself can’t remember much of it. She wept the whole way, she knows, and she went back not because she wanted to, but because if anything could answer this terrible riddle the house could and besides she had no where else to go and everyone thought she lived there so why not just go because there was nothing else to do. But she can’t remember any other part of it, so I suppose I’ll let it lie.

The house was just as looming as it had always been, but it seemed to open more easily to her this time, almost as if it made sense for her to be in it. She left the door standing wide, shedding slight sunlight into the hall. There at the end was a staircase, there to the sides were other doors, other rooms she supposed. She did not open them, merely sat in the doorframe and wept as the sun rays haloed around her and slowly faded out.

As darkness began to tiptoe over her, however, she stood. Grief is raw but hunger is also real, and there probably wasn’t anything to eat here but stranger things had happened that afternoon.

The first door opened onto a kitchen, dark and decaying, the windows just as filthy inside as they had been out blocking out the last light of dusk. Victoria shivered, remembering the movement she thought she had seen inside. A prickling feeling grew on her back and she made sure as she moved about she always had a wall behind her.

Underneath the stains, the room seemed to be probably painted in some peeling muted green and brown. The shelves were empty, the alcoves bare of food although she did find some candles and a flint. There was wood in the fireplace too, she saw poking her nose around in the ashes. It was old but dry and she soon had a small fire going, In its light she saw how on the high bench under the window there was a pile of unleavened bread, probably still good. She was too hungry to care by this point, that aching emptiness caused by too much crying. The bread vanished faster than she knew she could eat.

Underneath, there was a note, written clearly with every word underlined, like this was more important than the candles and the fire and the food (for Victoria was sure now they had all been laid out by the same person).

Go sit on the stairs and tell a story. Any story, just do it by nightfall.

#inklingschallenge #inklings challenge #team: chesterton #team chesterton #theme: sacrifice #I guess? it has a few bits stolen from other themes #eventually #however you can't really see the theme in this bit yet #genre: intrusive fantasy

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hotchley · 3 years

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Gotcha love prompt 14, the one about blushing, please!

This... this is so bad, I'm so sorry, but it's done! And I'm going with it because... yeah </3 Also, it's romantic I hope that's okay! Set... I don't even know, some point after s15 I guess? I've not proofread (as always.) Just under 1.5k!

14: "stop it." "but you're so cute when you blush."

No Warnings Apply

read on ao3!

It was no secret to anyone that Penelope Garcia was more outgoing than her partner- because boyfriend sounded so immature- Aaron Hotchner.

They were perfect for each other in that way. Aaron only stopped Penelope when he was afraid of her endangering herself or burning herself out, and Penelope knew how to encourage Aaron to dream without changing him.

But in almost every way imaginable, they are the complete opposites of each other. From their clothing to their reading habits to their handwriting to, well even the way they said thank you to other drivers, they have nothing in common. Which is why they've managed to last so long. Regardless. That's not the point.

The one thing Penelope Garcia and Aaron Hotchner have in common is that they don't hide. Not from each other. And not in the privacy of the home they have built together, after so many events almost took it from them permanently. It is the one thing they have always, and will always, agree on. Enough secrets have to be kept from the victims of loved ones, from their friends, and whilst they're on the job.

They have never allowed their home to be touched by those secrets. Or the darkness of their jobs. Not whilst the sun shines and the windows are open, allowing the light to stream in. When Jack is in his room, sleeping or doing whatever it is teenagers do, they will talk, but not before then. Because whilst they are both too… anything to be ordinary, they can cling to that piece of normalcy, and only face the horrors when they know they can be human.

But they always do it together. Their home is one of noise and love. It is bright and comforting. It is a real home, filled with laughter and smiles. Bad films and terrible jokes and bright lights. Traces of who they are can be found everywhere. Not a single room fits into a single aesthetic, but the people that love them most understand that the whole house is a combination of who they are. Much like Jack, who is also just like his first mother, in the best way possible.

All of this means that when Penelope comes home from a long day of filing, to find the house quiet, she feels a small amount of fear. Jack is at his theatre club, but it still doesn't explain the silence. Aaron should be in the garden, listening to an audiobook. Or testing out his latest recipe and dancing to music that only he enjoys. Maybe in the living room, grading and watching a soap opera he swears he only puts on in the background.

But he's not. And Penelope knows he's been going to all of his appointments, that he's completely healthy for someone of his age, but it doesn't stop her having to take a moment to breathe. Nothing bad has happened.

"Sweetness? I'm home!" She calls out.

There's an extremely loud crash from the upstairs bathroom, and as quickly as she can, she kicks her shoes off and runs up the stairs. There's more noise coming from the bathroom, but she has no idea what it could possibly be to do with.

"Aaron? Are you okay?" She asks, trying to open the door.

It's locked.

"You're not allowed to come in!" He shouts, but his voice is suspiciously high-pitched.

"Okay. I won't. Can you tell me what happened?"

"I'm fine."

"I'm sure you are. That's also nowhere near what I asked, so can you answer my actual question?" She teases.

Aaron sighs. "No."

"Aaron, why not?"

She hears the door unlock. For a moment, she almost opens it, but then she remembers what Aaron said to her, and she waits.

"You're not allowed to laugh," he says.

She's a little hurt that he thinks she would laugh at his misfortune, but she also knows that the brain isn't a completely rational thing. Also, she did laugh a little when he and Derek were fitting the shelves in the spare room and he dropped one on his foot, but it was his fault for looking so cute whilst in pain.

"Baby, I would never do that to you. Just come out so I know you're not injured," she says.

Aaron sighs, again, and it sounds so exaggerated that she almost jokes that he was wasted in the FBI, and should've in fact pursued his childhood dream of going to Julliard and becoming an actor. But she refrains because he doesn't actually know she knows.

He walks out of the bathroom with his head down, and suddenly, everything he had previously said to her makes sense. It makes so much sense. Of course he was hiding in the bathroom. Of course he didn't want her to see. Of course he made her promise to not laugh. And she tries to keep that promise. Really, she does. But it's simply impossible.

Because her partner's hair is green. There is no other way to put it. A whole section of it is green. Bright green. Not even something that could blend in with his hair either. No. It's just green, and she has no idea how it happened, but she can't quite fight the smile that threatens to spread across her face. And when he tries to glare at her, she can't keep it in and she bursts out laughing.

His cheeks immediately flush, and he folds his arms across his chest. "Penny, you promised!"

She's bent over now, clutching her stomach. "I know, I know. I'm sorry. It's just really funny to me. How did this even happen?"

"Well you know how Jack is doing a show? He didn't want to touch the hair chalk until I tested it on myself, and he was going to be late, so I did, but then he used your hairspray to see what it looks like properly, and now it won't come out."

Penelope tries. She really, well and truly, tries. But she can't keep in her laughter, because it's the dumbest thing she's heard in a while, but it is also such an Aaron and Jack were left alone with something new event to happen that she's not even surprised.

The colour in Aaron's cheeks seems to get even brighter, and Penelope can't help but smile at how pretty he looks when he's flustered like that.

"Well I think you look lovely," she says.

He pouts. "You're just teasing."

She is, but only half. She really does think he's the cutest man to ever walk the planet, and she really thinks green could suit him. But that's probably got more to do with the fact that he's blushing like crazy, and she loves his blush more than anything in the world.

"I'm not teasing! I think you look splendid. Absolutely wonderful. A proper Prince Charming. Completely adorable and so cute. The most handsome man I have ever seen. I could write so many sonnets about how you look, Shakespeare would be quaking in his boots," she says. She's only mildly exaggerating.

Aaron's cheeks have gone so red that Penelope is a tiny bit concerned that she's broken him. "Stop it," he pleads, but he's smiling so he knows that she hasn't gone too far.

"But you're so cute when you blush!" She tells him.

He grins. "I love you."

She kisses his hair, right where the green patch is. "I love you too."

They sit like that for a few minutes. Just enjoying each other's company as Hotch rests his forehead on Penelope's shoulder, allowing her to stroke his hair like he's a cat. Although he doesn't purr, the sigh he lets out is a lot more content than those he let out whilst in the bathroom.

"Penny?" He says after a few minutes.

"Yes my darling?"

"Do I actually look pretty with green hair?"

"Lovely thing, you'll always look pretty to me. But if you want to get it out, I know how to do it quickly and efficiently. Would you like me-"

"Oh absolutely," he says, not even letting her finish her sentence before he's grabbing her hand and dragging her into the bathroom.

Although she washes it all out in one go, and doesn't stop till there are no more traces of it, she does take one photo to remember. And it's as she's washing his hair over the edge of the bathtub that she thinks about how there are an infinite number of ways to say I love you, and somehow, her and Aaron never seem to struggle with new ones.

#hotchley's 500 #gotch #louisa <3

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chudleycanonficfest · 3 years

Text

all of the stars

Day 14, story #2 is by @accio-broom

Title: all of the stars Author/Artist: accio-broom Pairing: Hannah/Neville Prompt: Stargazing AU Rating: T Trigger Warning(s) (if any): mentions of violence and beatings

The Astronomy Tower is the tallest spot in the whole of Hogwarts, its peak barely grazing the clouds, but still looming over the rest of the castle. During the day, Hannah avoids it like the plague. She hates how dizzy the height makes her, with the Great Lakes and its mountains tiny, just like in one of her playsets from when she was younger. She feels like a giant, ready to stomp on the inhabitants of a small village, or that she might just fall off the edge and disappear.

But at night, when it’s just her and her telescope and the pitch-black darkness surrounding her, that’s when she feels most at home.

Her dad was the one who taught her how to find beauty in the stars, long before the academic explanations and essay writing almost stole the fun away from it. They would go to the beach, set up the telescope so that it pointed towards the ocean, and listen to the sounds of the waves crashing onto the shore as they plotted the paths of the stars.

After the events of last summer, the other students avoided the tower, so it was the only place Hannah could find solitude. The last spot tethering her love of the stars to her long-gone Dad.

Tonight, however, she is distracted. Every day, life at the castle is getting worse. The Carrows and Snape dole out more horrifying punishments, taking pleasure in torturing the children that dare to put even a toe out of line. Hannah longs for the before, when all she had to worry about was not writing enough inches for History of Magic or what to wear for the next Hogsmeade trip.

Grieving thoughts take over Hannah’s mind, and she’s so absorbed that she doesn’t notice the closing of the door to the tower or gentle steps on the metal stairs.

“What are you doing up here?” a soft voice calls.

Hannah jumps a mile, her heart pounding in her chest as she reaches for her wand and points it at the source of the intrusion. Her hand shakes, but she sets a steady gaze into the darkness until a tall, sandy-haired boy appears at the top of the staircase.

“Neville?”

“Yeah, sorry for scaring you. I wasn’t expecting anyone up here.” Pink blotches appear on his cheeks, and he shuffles his feet towards her.

Now that he’s standing in the light, she can see how bad he looks. She’s heard rumours of the beating he has been given in his plight to protect his classmates, but she hasn’t had a chance to check them out for herself.

Fresh cuts mark his forearms and neck. A ring of bruises sits under his left eye, violent greens and reds blooming across his face, and dark circles rest above his cheeks. Any uncovered inch of his skin is pale, and he looks like he hasn’t eaten a decent meal in a few months. His uniform hangs off his body, his red and gold tie askew.

Hannah sets what she hopes is a comforting smile on her face. “I didn’t have you pegged for a stargazer. I thought Herbology was more your thing?”

Heat crawls onto her neck at her admission. She doesn’t want to give away that she knows more than she should about the Gryffindor man. She has admired him from afar for a while now but hasn’t dared to ask him out. What would he want with a meek Hufflepuff like her?

But Neville doesn’t notice her slip. Instead, a small chuckle escapes his lips.

“I do like working in the Greenhouses, yes. But Sprout spends a lot of time out there, so I’ve started coming here to think instead.”

“Me too. It’s funny we haven’t bumped into each other before now. Nobody else comes up here anymore.”

“Nah, they’re all scared.”

“And you?”

Neville pauses for a beat, and Hannah worries she might have overstepped the mark. He drums his fingers against the metal railing before turning to look at her. “War is coming. There’s nothing we can do to stop it.”

“Then we should take the opportunity to enjoy the beauty in the world before everything explodes.”

“By doing your Astronomy homework?” Neville scoffs.

Hannah laughs. “I think most of the school has given up on their homework now.”

“Yeah, and I’ve got the beatings to prove that.”

She ponders him for a moment. He’s so scathing and severe now, nothing like the nervous, fumbling boy she met in first-year Herbology.

But she knows what might cheer him up.

Tearing her gaze away from Neville, Hannah drops her head down to concentrate on the telescope. She sets it to one of her favourite astrological views then beckons him over.

“It’s not homework. There’s far more to the night skies than what Professor Sinistra teaches us.”

“Like what?”

“Take a look.”

She steps back to give Neville space to lower his head to the viewfinder. He winces as the fresh bruises around his eyes make contact with the black plastic, but she’s sure the pain will disappear as soon as he takes in the beautiful galaxy of stars Hannah has focused on.

“That’s the Crab Nebula. One of my Dad’s favourite clusters. Mine too.”

“Huh. The colours match some of my bruises.”

Hannah frowns. It’s not the reaction she was hoping for. “Okay. Now try this.”

Nudging Neville out of the way, being careful of his injuries, she fiddles with some of the dials, and the telescope shifts a tiny amount to the right. “This is the Great Globular Cluster in Hercules.”

Neville wrinkles his nose up in disgust. “Ugh, I don’t think I want to see that.” He pushes his head back against the viewfinder again, his mouth opening in surprise. “Wow. That’s a good cluster.”

“And I think we can see the Northern Lights tonight.”

She leans against Neville to tweak the set-up again, but he grabs her hand, holding her still. An unfamiliar sensation churns in her stomach as she listens to every breath he takes.

“Wait. I’m still looking at the stars.”

He laces their fingers together as he watches the view for a while longer before eventually pulling away. Hannah’s heart catches in her throat as she realises just how close to each other they’re standing. Her pulse thuds in her ears, and for a moment, she panics that he can hear it. She’s never been in such proximity to a guy before, especially not one like Neville Longbottom, who is ferociously brave and had grown into his stocky build and looks, until the Death Eaters decided to make him their punching bag.

An overwhelming sense of courage takes hold of her, abolishing Hannah’s final grip on her common sense. Before she can stop herself, she’s pressing her lips against Neville’s in a soft kiss. The action takes her by surprise, but it’s not an unwelcome moment. She’s fancied Neville for a long time, and all the talk of war has scared her into action. It’s now or never, isn’t that what everyone’s been saying?

It’s her first-ever kiss, and a flurry of thoughts invade her mind, taking some of the shine off it. Is she even doing it right? Where should she even put her hands? Hannah is inexperienced and hyper-aware of the cuts and swellings around his mouth from the many fights he’s been in recently, but still, kissing him is the best experience of her life.

As the kiss continues, she realises that Neville isn’t reciprocating. Hannah pulls away before she embarrasses herself even more. A burning heat floods her face as she turns her head to gaze out from the tower, loosening her grip on him and letting her hands drop to her sides with a resigned sigh.

“Neville, I’m sorry, I—”

She doesn’t get a chance to finish her sentence. Neville steals her words away with a second kiss, hungrier and needier than the last. He pushes them away from the telescope and slides his arms around her waist, pulling her flush to his body. She responds by carding her fingers into his hair and letting a content moan escape her lips.

Their snog continues until their lungs burn for air. They pull away, gasping. Neville gives her a shy smile before laughter erupts.

“What’s so funny?” she asks, a frown on her face.

“Nothing. I’m just happy, I guess. I didn’t expect to come up here and experience my first kiss tonight. And definitely not with you. I didn’t even know you fancied me, to be honest.” He calms down, and his smile grows in confidence a little. “Amongst everything that’s going on, there’s finally a light at the end of my tunnel.”

Hannah’s expression relaxes, and a warm feeling spreads from her heart to the tips of her fingers and toes. If she’d known he might be interested in her, she would have made a move a long time ago, so they could have enjoyed this for longer.

Carefully, so as not to hurt him, she pulls Neville back to her. She wraps her arms around his body, tucks her head under his chin then closes her eyes.

There are no other words to say, not yet, and she’s content to enjoy the moment before the war comes to steal their peace.

#chudleycanonficfest2021 #HP fest #hp canon pairings #canon fest romantic #submission #tw: mentions of violence #tw: mentions of beatings #neville longbottom x hannah abbott #nevannah #hannah abott x neville longbottom

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jodiereedus22 · 3 years

Text

Mirage

A/N: Here I am, posting! I don't even want to know how long its been since I posted anything, I am so sorry, motivati9on has been hard to com by. but I have a piece for you now! thank you @crossbowking for the amazing support and I want to thank @fxlminare she got me motivated to do this piece, she is amazing!!!!

I hope you enjoy!!! <3

Word Count: 2165

You awoke suddenly to the sound of your alarm going off, you rubbed your tired eyes as you rolled over to switch it off.

You rolled onto your back, staring at the ceiling, for some reason you were confused, and you didn’t know why - maybe you had a dream last night and couldn't remember it.

You shrugged it off, turning your head to the side, seeing a soundly sleeping Daryl. His chest rising and falling gently, his hair draped over his face making his closed eyes hard to see, you smiled to yourself, the alarm clock had always been for you, Daryl could sleep through anything.

You gently got out of bed, putting on a robe and headed downstairs, you had a lot to get ready for today – but first, it was time to get breakfast started.

You started with the bacon, then some eggs, then got started on the pancake batter when you heard footsteps behind you and suddenly a pair of hands wrapped around your waist, placing kisses on your neck.

“Hmm, somethin’ smells good,” Daryl said in a sleepy gruff voice, you groaned as he kissed your neck some more, holding you more tightly.

“Why did I wake up to a cold bed?” Daryl asked, whispering in your ear as you tried to concentrate on cooking the breakfast.

“Well someone has to get up around here, or nothing would get done,” you joked, laughing as Daryl went over the top kissing you more.

“Eww, that’s gross!”

“Do you have to do that over breakfast?” Your son said as he and your daughter walk into the kitchen.

“Lucas, Mia, you want us to stop? Go set the table,” you bribed your kids as you laughed, and Daryl let go of you to help.

You finished cooking the breakfast and served it up. Sitting and eating, laughing with your family.

You took a moment to look at your families smiling faces, realising how lucky you were to have such a perfect family.

As everyone finished up their food you got to cleaning as everyone else went to go get ready, giving your children kisses as they headed up the stairs.

Daryl came down first, dressed in a blue button-down shirt that hugged his broad shoulders, black jeans and nice black shoes.

“Looking good Mr Dixon,” you admired, your eyes travelling up and down his body as you bit your lip in approval.

Even after all his time and 2 children together, Daryl getting embarrassed was always the sweetest and endearing thing, as he looked at you with a blush upon his cheeks.

You walked up to him and kissed him on the cheek.

“I'm gonna get ready. Will you get everything into the car? Everything is in the fridge.”

Just then Mia and Lucas came bounding down the stairs.

“Well look at you both, all dressed up and clean,” you smiled walking up to them, placing a kiss on both their foreheads.

“Can you both help daddy put everything in the car while mummy gets ready please?” you asked as they got to helping Daryl load the car.

You headed to your room to get ready, you put on a simple floral dress that landed just above your knees, you put on some flat sandals knowing you were going to have to play with the kids at some point. You put on some simple light makeup, knowing anymore would make you melt in the Georgian heat.

Coming down the stairs you could see the hustle and bustle of everyone getting everything in the car, popping in and out of the house, picking up random items to pack into the car when Daryl stopped dead in his tracks, staring directly at you.

Daryl stood there in silence, in awe at your beauty as a blush came across your cheeks at the look in his eyes.

“You look pretty mommy,” Mia exclaimed coming up to you, wrapping her arms around your middle giving you a nice big hug.

“Thank you sweetheart,” you thanked her, hugging her back and leaning down to place a kiss on the top of her head.

“You really do Mrs Dixon,” Daryl walked towards you, the same look of awe in his eyes as he took you into his arms. You placed your arms around his neck, your hands playing with the hair on the nape of his neck, smiling and staring back into his beautiful Georgian blue eyes.

“Oh really?” you teased.

“Really,” Daryl leaned down and captured your lips with his, closing your eyes, getting lost in his kiss, Daryl’s kisses, no matter the reason for them, were always perfect, they were a balm for your soul.

You got interrupted by Lucas making disgusted noises behind you.

You and Daryl looked at each other with smirks on your faces, finding your sons embarrassment amusing.

“Alright. Come on. Let’s get going?” you called out to everyone as you call clambered into the car.

The journey was short, sharing laughs and admiring the countryside, you were there in no time.

As soon as you stopped the kids jumped out of the car, heading to the garden where they could hear the other kids having fun, as you went to the trunk to grab all the food to take inside.

“Here, take this, give it to Rick,” you handed him a bottle of wine, knowing he was eager to see his best friend.

He took the bottle of wine, placing a kiss on your cheek as he made his way into the party.

You and Daryl had been friends with Rick Grimes for a very long time, and every year he hosted a BBQ for everyone with his wife Lori who was now pregnant, and their son Carl.

Carol always came with her daughter Sophia. Maggie and Glenn came with Maggie’s sister Beth and their father Hershel. T-Dog and Andrea also joined.

Everyone had a great time at these, everyone brought food and drink, some brought things for the kids to play with, it was a great catch-up session for adults and a fun time for the kids.

You made multiple trips from the car to the kitchen until everything you brought was set up. you then made your way outside to greet with everyone, finding Daryl with Rick you walked over to join them.

Standing next to Daryl he placed an arm around your waist as you looked around the party seeing your kids playing with Carl and Sophia, being so close in age, it was always lovely to see them having such fun together.

You did your rounds, catching up with everyone, having a laugh, sharing food, drinks and stories, enjoying yourself.

You thought to yourself how lucky you were to have such an amazing family in Daryl and your kids, but also an amazing extended family in everyone else who was at the party.

With the party in full swing, you went inside the house to grab some more food, looking out the window onto the beautiful fields and trees that surrounded Ricks house, when you saw a figure from afar, he was walking funny, like he was drunk. It filled you with a sense of dread, but you had no idea why when gunfire in the house drew your attention in panic.

Running in the house, you saw all the kids sitting on the couch.

“What are you doing? You asked, slightly panicked.

“Watching a movie,” Carl answered. You looked at the tv to see them watching some kind of zombie movie with guns going off every minute.

“Come on guys, its summer, go out and play,” you said with a sigh of relief, your dread dissipating slightly.

“You can watch it another day,” you said as you walked up the tv set and turned it off, herding the kids back outside to play.

But that man outside, stumbling around, still set you on edge.

You went back to the window to see where he was, but he was nowhere to be found, it's like he had just vanished in thin air, considering the space around Ricks house is fairly open.

You took a minute to pause, taking in a breath, you decided to shake it off and go back into the party and enjoy yourself.

So, you tried to do just that, you carried on your afternoon with everyone but in the back of your mind there was still this creeping feeling, it felt like you were being buried alive, the weight slowly getting heavier on your chest.

You tried to concentrate on the here and now and what was happening around you, knowing there was no rational reason for you to be feeling this way when Daryl calling your name pulled you out of your thoughts.

You turned your head from the group of people you had spaced out on, having a glance around the party trying to pinpoint Daryl, when you saw him talking to Carol.

You broke away from your little group and headed in Daryl's direction.

“Did you call me?” you asked Daryl as you reached him and Carol.

“No, why?” Daryl answered, causing you to furrow your brow.

“Ya a’right?” Daryl asked placing a hand on your arm in a gentle, loving way.

“Yh, I'm just … I’m,” you stuttered not knowing what to say, confused at the chain of events, confused at your feelings.

You started walking backwards away from Daryl when a wave of heat came over you, starting to make you panic.

You turned away from everyone for a minute, trying to catch your breath.

When you turned back around everyone was staring at you. Everyone was silent, no one said anything as they stood motionless, staring without blinking in a disturbing manner.

You then realised they weren’t wearing the same clothes, they were dirty, covered in blood, holding weapons. Rick looked as though he had a colt python, glancing over at Daryl as he held a crossbow.

The more you looked the more familiar it felt, but it still didn’t make any sense. It didn’t fit.

You tried to blink away the feeling, taking a second to close your eyes, steading yourself, but when you opened your eyes it was like nothing has happened and just like that the party went on, all back in their own clothes, no weapons in sight.

The confusion sent you dizzy, the colour drained from your face. What was happening?

“(Y/N) … (Y/N),” you heard Daryl calling out your name, but as you looked over to him, his lips weren’t moving.

“(Y/N), (Y/N)! Wake up!” you heard Daryl again when a huge wave of dizziness came over you as you stumbled backwards.

Your body started falling to the floor, but you never felt yourself meet the floor instead you found yourself sitting up, gasping for breath in a bed that you recognised and a face you recognised as Daryl's, but you weren’t in a lovely clean, bright house.

You were in the prison, you remember now, everything came flooding back. You had gotten ill; you must have fallen unconscious.

“Hey, hey, you’re back, you’re okay,” Daryl reassured you, placing a gentle hand on your cheek.

“Yh, I'm fine, it’s just, I had the weirdest dream,” you told Daryl.

Even though you were still alive, and Daryl was right by your side, you couldn’t help the feeling of disappointment that your dream wasn’t real. Remembering the world how it was now, the dead rising, the hunger, the death, you would have given anything for your dream to be real.

Daryl climbed in bed with you as you told him all about your dream in as much detail as you remembered.

“Two kids huh?” Daryl asked, raising an eyebrow with a grin.

“Yh, Mia and Lucas. It’s so weird to talk about them, they’re not real, they don’t exist. But they felt so real,” you said with sadness in your voice.

“Hey,” Daryl got your attention, placing a finger on your chin to turn you towards him.

“Just because it ain’t real now, don’t mean it won’t be one day,” Daryl revealed, making you smile.

“You think so?”

“Yh, in the future, maybe we’ll find a better place than this. It could happen,” Daryl revealed.

This was a complete surprise to you. You knew Daryl's past, you knew his childhood, children were something you thought Daryl would never be able to bring himself to have - out of fear he’d turn into his father.

“You want kids?” you asked surprised.

“I didn’t’ think I did, ‘til I met ya,” Daryl confessed.

“I love you so much Daryl,” you told him, snuggling deeper into him, enjoying his warmth, his scent.

“I love ya too (Y/N),” Daryl reciprocated, holding you tight in his arms, placing a kiss on the top of your head as you both drifted into a peaceful deep sleep, both dreaming of the future you hoped one day you could both have together.

Taglist: @fxlminare @crossbowking @viraloutbreakcontrol @coffee-obsessed-writer @bluesfortheredj @shutupimtryin2write @fearthewalkingbitch @selenedixon @cbarter @cole-winchester@alyisdead @hopplessdreamer @infinitewcr @blogsporadicartist @mtngirlforever @sassi-luna @twdsunshine @momc95 @emo-potato-virgil @sourwolf-sterek32 @tatertot1097 @wilhelmjfink @coffeebooksandfandom @twdeadfanfic @cutiepiemimi13 @kickin-with-dixon @feartheendlesssummer @twdeadlysins @apocalypse-haven @baseballbitch116 @trashcanband4 @mblaqgi @addiction-survivor25 @mel-2a @spaghettyrogers @xxboesefrauxx @sapphire1727 @little-miss-mischief1 @wontlookaway @bunnymother93 @auntiebyn @saintsisterwriter @theunofficialduke @lilo-1988 @imaginecrushes

#daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #daryl dixon #the walking dead fanfiction #The Walking Dead #DarylDixon #daryl dixon fanfic #twd daryl #walking dead fanfiction #fluff #fluffy #angst #fanfic #twd #twdfanfiction #twd daryl dixon

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imaginesmai · 4 years

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Peter Parker - I’ll find my way to you(1)

Did I watch Far From Home and decided to write about it instead of doing responsable things? Of course. This will be a little different to what you’re used to do, becuase I’ll follow the movie and dialogues mostly, only that reader is the romantic interest instead of MJ. Hope you enjoy it, I’m really excited for this series!

If Tumblr fucks this fic up and doesn’t show the tags I’m suing them

Plot: Peter Parker couldn’t be more excited for the trip. It wasn’t only the best vacation he could dream of - I mean, Europe? Cool - but they also gave him the chance to spend more time with you, his new found crush that makes him stutter and blush. He should have known that something would get in the way.

Spider Man far from home featuring Peter Parker as a clueless, cute baby and reader, who is Bucky Barnes’ daughter and as badass as her father.

Warnings: far from home spoilers - but come on, you’ve seen it.

“I have a plan”

Peter all but fell on the chair, dropping his bag on the ground and making a few classmates look his way. He had just ran through the hallways, nearly colliding with a few people in his way. But if he wanted to talk to Ned before the class started, and the rest of the students came in, he had to be quick. Flash was talking about how the teacher had to grab some books from the library before starting the lesson, and he had took his chance; because lately, finding Ned alone was something weird.

Said boy looked at his friend with raised eyebrows, and put his notebook away. He had been making a list about the best ways to impress an European girl, something he didn’t want to forget. Ned was determinated to meet some pretty girl and impress them with his American accent; Peter had a hard time believing that, but he didn’t dare to break his hopes.

Before talking, he made sure there was no one around who could listen to their conversation.

“Okay, first. I’m gonna sit next to Y/N on the flight” Peter rushed his words out, and Ned hummed. “Second, I’m gonna buy a duple headphone adapter and watch movies with her, the whole time”

“Right” Ned nodded, his eyebrows furrowing as Peter kept talking.

“Three, when we go to Venice – Venice is super famous for making stuff out of glass, right?”

“True”

“So I’m gonna buy her a bright read star necklace, cause her favourite colour is red” Peter shrugged, moving his hands around. “And because of, well”

“It reminds her of her father, a worldwide recognised assassin but also the man who lives five blocks away from your apartment” Ned completed. “Didn’t he drive you to the last decathlon competition?”

“Yeah, her father” Peter nodded, not even blinking at Ned’s words. “Four. When we get to Paris, I’m gonna get her to the top of the Eiffel tower, give her the necklace, and then five, I’m gonna tell her how I feel. And then six hopefully she tells me… she feels the same way”

“Oh, don’t forget step seven” Ned crossed his arms in front of his chest, and Peter missed the sarcastic remark as he reached again for his notebook, where he had written down all the steps. “Don’t do any of that”

Brown, tired eyes met Ned, and the boy felt bad for about a second. It was obvious that Peter had been having a hard time in the last months; Tony’s death, the feeling of being on borrowed time because of the ‘blip’, and the pressure of being Spiderman in a world who needed superheroes more than ever. He could count with the fingers of one hand how many hours of good sleep he had gotten that week, and they were on Wednesday. Besides, he was also stressing with the stupid plan with the steps, and the final trip to Europe.

May had had the idea of writing down the steps. He had come to her – after Ned proved to be useless for it and Happy refused to talk about girls – when he had realized he had feelings for someone. Not just someone, but one of his new friends who shared with him more than just a friendship. Y/N Barnes, friend and work-colleague, talking about avengers. And of course, crush.

“Why” he sighed, not even asking. He thought of himself as a balloon that had just been poked with a sharp needle, and was slowly deflating.

“Because we’re gonna be bachelors in Europe, Peter!” Ned said, his voice too similar to a whine.

“Ned…”

“Look, I may not know much, but I do know this” he nodded at his friend to make sure he was still listening. “Europeans love Americans”

“Really?” Peter tilted his head and raised his eyebrows, knowing that probably Europeans didn’t really care about them. If he was European, he would sure not give a damn about America.

“And more than half of them are women!”

“Okay, sure. But… I really like Y/N” he gave him a tight smile. “She’s awesome. She’s super funny in a kind of a dark way. And sometimes I catch her looking at me and I feel like I’m – She’s coming – don’t say anything!”

Ned looked to his right, and indeed, another person walked in class. Betty waved from the door at you and you gave her a small smile, still not used to her and having so many teenage attention to yourself. Still, you made an effort and contributed to some of her conversations, although most of them were monologues. Again, that feeling that Ned had had about being wrong just moments ago came back when you looked at them and lighted up at the sight of Peter.

Not a lot of people noticed, but you were nothing like your father. The stereotype of a bad mean soldier died when someone talked with you for a few minutes. You were shy, liked puppies and colour pink, and even if your jokes sometimes crossed the line of personal baggage and were a little too dark, you were funny.

You clutched the big sketchbook to your chest and skipped towards your friends. Peter kicked Ned softly under the desk to avoid him saying anything about the plan, and Ned just chuckled awkwardly.

“Hi” you smiled at them, dimples on your cheeks that made Peter mess with the pen on the desk. “Excited about the trip?

“Hey. Uh, yeah” Peter tried not to make it too obvious that he was staring at you, so he looked at Ned. “We’re just – talking about the trip”

“Yeah, and Peter’s plan”

“You have a plan?” you raised your eyebrows, and Peter felt himself stopping breathing for a moment.

“I-I don’t… I d-don’t have plan”

“He’s just gonna collect tiny spoons while we’re traveling through all the countries”

The wink that he sent his friend wasn’t at all discreet, because to do so Ned moved all his face along with his left eye. Peter didn’t feel any better with the answer, if anything it made him feel a small pressure on his chest. He turned the pen around his fingers as he looked at you again, who thankfully, looked unsuspicious. In times like that he was grateful that you still hadn’t caught everything about the sarcasm and indirect intentions.

But even you, who spent more than half of your life locked in a cell and used as leverage for the winter soldier, knew that it was something weird to do. So you hummed and made a small grimace.

“Like a – like a grandmother?”

“I’m not collecting tiny spoons” he scoffed, pointing with the pen at Ned. “He’s collecting tiny spoons”

“Oh. Okay. Well… that was… a real rollercoaster”

Peter’s eyes drifted to your wrist as you moved your hands around, and his previous mood fell like a ton of bricks. He knew he should be thankful that you were allowed to come with them to Europe, since your father wasn’t welcomed in at least half of the countries. Thick, black bracelets fell on your wrist, a huge contrast to your delicate skin. They had a small red light that was always on, unless you broke one of the rules Thaddeus Ross had set.

He had been there when the secretary forbid you to leave the country, using words as ‘freak’ and ‘danger’. Between your father, Sam and a little bit of help of Pepper Potts, he had agreed as long as you carried the bracelets. Peter himself had threatened to go and talk to him too, rambling and speeding across the walls and ceilings as he traumatised May. But then, you had asked him to stay put, and he could never say no to you.

Peter bit his lip and tried to hide his discomfort at seeing your wrists. You had to endure enough from the rest of the classmates, and he would hate himself if you dropped that smile.

“By the way, my dad gave me some stuff for you” you changed the topic, digging into your backpack for something. A metal, clanking noise came from inside. “Told me you should have it since I’m not even allowed to cut an apple if I want to stay out of jail. In case something happen”

“What – don’t!”

Peter jumped out of his seat and pushed your hand back into the bag, careful of the sharp edges. He was too busy pushing the knives back into the bag to notice how your hands touched for more than one second, or to admire how your cheeks turned pink and you eyes went wide. You were so close that he could smell your vanilla scent, and you could see the wrinkles of his sweater’s neck.

The whole class seemed to disappear around as he finally noticed what he had done. Peter was always careful of not being too close to you, in case you could get overwhelmed – like in your first day of highschool – or feel uncomfortable. His own cheeks went red, and the tips of his ears started to burn. He pulled his hand out of your bag so quick that he got a scratch on his palm; not that he cared, as he jumped back to his seat and almost fell out of the chair.

“Did you bring knives to class?” Ned squealed out. A girl nearby had noticed, but she chose to turn away.

“Well, not knives” you tried to explain. “They are like – uh – daggers? Throwing daggers. Dad got them from internet, and some of them have dents so that when you stab someone –“

“Okay, class! I’m here!” the teacher cut your conversation, and a flow of students filled the class.

You quickly ran to your place at the back, besides another boy your age, and Peter tried to follow you as you moved. He could have sworn that you smiled when you passed his side, but he wanted it so bad to be true that he could have imagined it. Most of the times he thought you were looking at him in class, and when he looked at you, there was nothing to see. Sure, you liked to sit beside him at lunch time, and never turned down an awkward proposal for a “date” with Peter, although he was the only one calling them that, as nothing ever happened.

Still, he allowed himself a sweet second of happiness as he watched you greet your classmate and pull down your sketchbook.

“Dude” Ned chuckled behind him, and Peter stared with amused eyes. “I think that went really great”

“Yo, Parker”

Peter turned around and saw Flash calling him from the other side of the plane. He was sitting on the closest side of the window, but even from there he could see the boy’s smug smirk. So far, the whole ‘getting into the plane and not having any problem’ was going good. He had his headphone adapter on his right hand, and was preparing himself to tell Ned to change places with MJ and let him sit with you. The rest of the class seemed fine too, and he was enjoying the trip so far.

But of course not a lot of things in his life went right, and he felt his mood lower down a bit when Flash called him. He fidgeted with the adapter on his hands and nodded at him.

“This is called an airplane” Flash said, and to Peter utter mortification, you stopped right beside his seat to look at Flash. “It’s like the busses you’re used to, except they fly over the poor neighbours instead of driving through them”

“Madam?” a kind looking woman appeared beside Flash and looked at you, smiling. “He blipped, so technically he’s sixteen, not twenty one”

“I’ll take that”

“No – no she’s – s-she’s lying! I don’t even –“

Flash trailed behind the woman as he tried to take back the drink, giving you the nastiest look he could manage. Which wasn’t too big, as he was mostly embarrassed.

When you had first arrived to Midtown, two years ago after you father went to Wakanda and Tony – as a favour to Steve, who was like you uncle – let you stay with him and attend highschool, Flash thought you were pretty. He followed you everywhere you went, tried to win you over with the stupidest and most expensive details about his life and invited you to every party. Then, he noticed that you ignored him in favour of staying with Peter, who you had met in that airport fight. And from that moment, he liked to pretend he hadn’t liked you at all.

Once he was gone, you looked at Peter and gave him a small, shy smile. He smiled back, his face melting at the sight of you. He almost dropped the headphone adapter as he watched past by, if it wasn’t for Ned catching it in the last second.

“Classic of Y/N, right?” Brad Davis appeared out of thin air, following you into the airplane and making Peter drop his smile.

“Did you know Brad was coming?” he asked Ned once the boy was out; although he didn’t stop looking at him.

“It’s… so weird” Ned chuckled, looking at Brad too. “Like, one day he’s a little kid that cried and got nosebleeds all the time, and suddenly we blip back and he’s totally ripped and super nice. And all this girls are after him”

“Not all the girls are after him”

“No man, they’re all after him”

Peter felt a sudden weight on his chest that he couldn’t describe. Brad was helping you to put your handbag on the top part of the plane, apparently saying something funny; really funny, because you weren’t using that fake smile you put when you didn’t get what was funny or what people were talking about. The sound of your laugh usually made his stomach flutter, but that time it made him feel sick. He knew he was selfish for thinking that way – you were allowed to have friends, to be interested in someone, and to like Brad.

But he didn’t know all of that, it was just you laughing with Brad. He was so busy drowning in his own feelings that he missed how you looked at him once more before sitting beside MJ.

“Anyway” Ned went back to his bag, taking out his computer. “Onto more important things, it’s an nine hour flight. We play beast slayers the whole time”

“I need your help sitting next to Y/N” Peter blurted out, finally tearing his eyes away from Brad.

“Seriously?” Ned sighed. He left his computer on the desk and tried to look miserable to Peter, who was too busy already tearing his seatbelt away.

“Yes, seriously”

“What about our plan? American bachelors in Europe?”

“That’s your plan. That’s a solo plan. Come on, this is my plan” Peter tried to remember how May told him that he could get almost anything with those puppy eyes, so he put them on for Ned; who couldn’t be more unbothered by them. But Peter really, really wanted to sit with you. “Please”

Ned threw his head back and scoffed, leaving the computer back on the bag and tugging at his own seatbelt. Maybe the puppy eyes didn’t work with him, but Peter was glad to have such a good friend.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

Tom Holland and Peter Parker Taglist

@delicately-important-trash

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@gypsystuf (since you didn’t answer me, I just put you on the general taglist. Let me know if you want to change!)

@nikkixostan

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@justifymyfeelings

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irishseeeker · 3 years

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a/n: this is a canon fic I wrote when I should be studying, as per. hope you enjoy!

Summary: Five times Kate takes care of a reluctant Anthony & one time he lets her.

one.

It was strange for Kate to wake up before Anthony. Anthony was usually awake a good half hour before Kate was every morning, usually dressed before she opened her eyes. He always waited for her to eat breakfast, but this morning he was oddly quiet.

“Good morning,” She whispered, rolling over in his arms, her nose brushing his. She leaned in to kiss him after she heard him make a small noise, her eyes still half closed. They could have a bit of fun before they really had to get up for the day.

He sneezed in her face.

Kate screamed, jumping slightly back from her husband as she wiped her face with their bedsheet. That certainly was a mood killer.

“I’m sorry Kate,” Anthony murmured, groaning slightly as he attempted to sit up.

Kate turned to look at her husband properly and her mouth opened slightly as she properly took him in. He did not look like Anthony at all. “Oh Anthony,” said Kate, putting her weight on her two arms on either side of him as she sat carefully on top of him to inspect him closer. “You look terrible.”

“Charming, my dear wife,” replied Anthony, not looking impressed at her comment whatsoever. It was true, though. He had little colour in his face, dark bags were under his eyes and his nose looked painfully red. He was sniffling with every breath.

“You have a fever,” Kate lay her hand on his forehead, which was scorching under her palm. “Your nose is red, and you look pale. You are ill, and you need to rest.”

“I do not have time to rest," Anthony insisted, shaking his head in protest. His schedule was full for the day, with endless tasks to do and people to visit. "I am fine, Kate.”

“May I remind you it is a sin to lie, dear husband?” Kate raised an eyebrow at him. “Especially to one’s wife, who can see right through her husband’s rather pathetic attempts at lying.”

He scoffed, and it turned into a slight whimper as strikes of pain ran through his throat. His head felt rather heavy.

“I am fine,” He said rather sharply, his jaw clenched as he attempted to stand up.

“You are the most stubborn man in London!” Kate exclaimed, her hands on her hips as she pushed him back down. “Get in the bed, now.”

Anthony glared at her, and although he would never admit it, he would not defy his wife when she was cross with him. “I’m not a child, Kate,” He said, mimicking her stern tone.

“I vowed to be by your side in sickness and in health. It is a wife’s duty to take care of her husband,” Kate reminded him, laying a cool tea cloth on his burning forehead. “I’m calling for the doctor.”

Anthony continued to object. “Kate, there is no need-”

“Anthony,” Kate said sternly, but her expression was the opposite to her tone-she looked concerned, and her soft hand cupped his cheek. “Please. For me?”

“Fine,” He grumbled, feeling his eyes close as Kate slipped her hand into his and gave it a gentle squeeze. “But I am not sick.”

He then proceeded to sneeze and nearly cough a lung up. Kate just stared at him with her eyebrow raised slightly. “Of course you are not.”

Anthony’s cough and cold had lasted about a week and he was not the ideal patient. The doctor was not impressed with his reluctance to be examined and smart remarks. Anthony continuously moaned and complained, protested when Kate forced him to take the medicine the doctor had prescribed.

She threatened to play the flute for him while he was confined to his bed if he did not take the medicine and it was quite the convincing tactic, he never objected to his medicine again. Well, he moaned, but he still took it.

She didn’t leave his side all week, cancelling any of her planned activities or meetings with friends.

“I had cook prepare your favourite,” said Kate, placing the tray carefully on her side of the bed as she sat beside him, the bowl of vegetable soup in her hand. “Open up.”

Anthony grumbled. “Kate, I am not a child.”

“Open,” She interrupted him, holding the spoon in front of his mouth. “You need to eat. I can sit here all day until this bowl is empty.”

He reluctantly opened his mouth and she fed him the rest of the soup. She even pretended to feed him and pulled back the spoon at the last second, as if she was playing a game with a child, which he did not find funny whatsoever. Kate, however, cried tears of laughter.

Anthony had never been a great sleeper and it had always made Kate worry. He was usually awake when she woke up and sometimes looked like he had not slept at all some nights. She knew he had been like this for a very long time, anxiety keeping him awake and it had improved somewhat since they married but it was not a problem fixed overnight.

However, he had slept most of the week, confined to bed, and it hurt her how unwell and exhausted he must be for him to sleep so easily. However, she loved to watch him sleep. She was quite content to watch him for hours, her fingers slowly rubbing his back or combing through his hair to relax him.

“Are you staring at me?” He murmured, his voice startling her slightly as she looked down at his face, which was peering up at her as he rested on her chest.

“Of course,” She replied, twirling one of his chestnut locks around her finger. “I could stare at you forever.”

He met her halfway for a kiss, smiling softly against her lips as he pushed himself up slightly and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his chest. “I am incredibly handsome.”

She snorted, pulling the sheet over them. “Do you feel better?” She asked, tilting her head up slightly to look at him. She loved lying like this, practically on top of him.

“Very much so,” He murmured, leaning down to kiss her again, twisting her in his arms so she was now straddling him. “So much so, I am feeling very energetic.”

“Oh?” She pushed her hips down towards his, and she felt giddy that she could feel how excited he was. It had been a long week. “Do you have any ideas of what we could do?”

“Oh Mrs. Bridgerton,” He replied, gleeful and grinning, certainly feeling his usual himself again as he unbuttoned her dress. “I have an idea or two.”

His idea did not involve talking, the first, second or the third time, but it did involve a lot of fun.

two.

Kate was half-asleep in bed. Her evening had been oddly quiet, as Anthony had gone to the club with his brothers for the night. He had been reluctant to go but Kate had insisted he should, his time at the club with his brothers had been very limited over the last few months. She proposed he could spend the evening listening to her practice the flute instead and he quickly went on his way, winking at her as she scowled. She heard a crash and some loud footsteps and she presumed Anthony was home.

She sat up in bed, frowning slightly as she listened to further unusual noises approaching their bedroom. The candles were still lit as Kate had not wanted Anthony to arrive back in darkness.

The man in question opened their door. Kate took one look at him, an amused smile breaking out on her face. She had not seen Anthony drunk many times but each time was as glorious as the next. “You’re drunk, Lord Bridgerton.” Anthony stumbled further into the room, grinning boyishly at her as he attempted to take off his cravat.

“You are the most beautiful woman in the world Kate,” He said, his voice slurring slightly but still giddy. “I know that for a fact as I can see two of you.”

Kate laughed, a girlish laugh that made everything inside him light up. “Come here,” She climbed out of bed, guiding his stumbling figure to the edge of the bed where he lay back with a plop, laughing. She did not get to see this side of him often, this gleeful, boyish side of him. “Let us get these off, shall we?” Kate said, kneeling down to pull her husband's black boots off his feet, struggling slightly until they popped off and she nearly fell back.

“Are you trying to seduce me, dear wife?” Anthony’s voice slightly slurred as he spoke, and the smirk on his face was cheeky and made Kate blush. He never failed to make Kate blush.

“Am I not always, my lord?” She pulled him up, which was a slight struggle as he was heavy, but he made it easier when he sat up. She pulled off his crumbled cravat, and began to unbutton his shirt. “I like it when you call me my lord,” He mumbled, pushing his chin up as he looked at her. “It does something to me.”

“You always used to insist I call you Anthony, once we were sort of acquaintances,” She reminded him, pushing his shirt off his shoulders.

“That’s because the people I love call me Anthony and I was a fool in love, I just did not know it yet,” He leaned forward to kiss her and she giggled against his lips, tasting the bourbon and she slowly pulled away. “I do not oppose an occasional my lord every once in a while.” “Well, my lord,” She pushed at his chest slightly, prompting him to move back towards the headboard and lie down. “I shall keep that in mind.” “Mmm,” He murmured, his eyelids already closing as he fell into a deep sleep. Kate fixed his pillows just as he liked them, pulling the sheets up to the top of his chest.

“I love you,” She whispered, pressing a kiss to his cheek as she began to hear light snores, and she rolled her eyes as she got off the bed. She poured him a glass of water, leaving it on his side of the bed. He would need it in the morning.

The following afternoon, Anthony Bridgerton was in pain. When he was fully awake, all he could do was groan.

“Good morning,” Kate practically sung at her husband, who groaned in response. She had been awake for hours, as it was nearly the afternoon, but she had spent the morning reading her book waiting for her husband to wake up. She would not miss this moment.

“Please shut the curtains,” He managed to grunt. “And leave me to wither away.”

“So dramatic,” Kate said, rolling her eyes as she looked up from her book to smile at him. "How are you feeling?

“Like death. What time is it?” Anthony murmured, lifting his head off his pillow and feeling the world shift slightly. He felt ill. Extremely ill.

Kate took a moment before she replied. “It’s the afternoon.”

“Oh fuck,” Anthony tried not to swear in front of his wife, it was highly improper, but he really was fucked. He had appointments all morning and afternoon that he already missed and would be late for.

“I have cancelled all your appointments, all easily rescheduled,” Kate spoke over him so he would not interrupt. “What you need to do is to relax and eat something when you think you are up for it. Do not argue with me, Anthony.” He was prepared to argue with his wife, but he did not have the energy and his pounding head could not muster the effort.

“Was I a nuisance?” He asked instead, opening his arms towards Kate, who abandoned her book quite quickly to fall into them.

“You are never a nuisance,” Kate replied, pressing a kiss under his chin. “You were highly amusing.”

“I was?”

“You were. You were extremely logical,” He could hear the teasing edge in her tone. “You mentioned how I am smarter than you. How I am the greatest wife. How you should always listen to me-”

Anthony snorted. “I must have been drunker than I thought.”

She whacked him with a pillow, and he gasped before tackling her on their bed, until she stopped fighting. “I love you,” He said into her hair, after they had called a ceasefire, before pulling back to kiss her softly.

“I love you too,” She murmured against his lips, “But you smell like a brewery darling. I rang for the maids to run you a bath, it will make you feel much better. Come on.”

“Lie against me,” She instructed him as they both climbed into the bath. She picked up the cloth and slowly rubbed it over his skin. The bubbles fizzed against his chest before dissolving in the water, wiping any dirt away. He lay against her chest, defeated as his dehydrated muscles ached in the warm better.

“I am not the young man I once was,” He grumbled, sighing with content as Kate’s fingers lightly massaged his hair, the strands twisting around her fingers. “I will never drink again.” Kate snorted loudly against his back which made him reach back to tickle her until she squealed.

“Did you have fun?” Anthony nodded, smiling to himself as he thought back to the night before with his brothers and Simon. It was an incredible night, one of the fondest he had had in ages. He had not laughed or drank that much in a while. “I did.” “Good,” Kate replied, playing with his fingers and threading them through her own.

“I love when you have fun. You need to have more of it. You deserve it.”

He turned his head around so their faces were a few inches apart, and he rested his forehead against hers. “Have I told you how much I love you?”

“I shall never tire of hearing it,” She whispered against his lips, dropping the cloth as he moved backwards in the bath and pulled her onto his lap.

“I love you,” His hands squeezed her bum, which made her hips move against his. “I love you,” He whispered against her earlobe, his teeth nibbling it.

“I love you,” His lips trailed kisses down towards her breasts, taking them in his hands and slowly massaging them, before he replaced his hands with his tongue.

“I love you so much,” She murmured back, her voice wavering slightly as his teeth caught her nipple. “But I must insist we move to the bed, now.”

Without another word, he carefully stood up and took her hands, delicately stepping out of the bath. He picked her up and deposited her on the bed, both of them laughing, and there wasn’t another word spoken for a while.

“Feeling better?” She teased as they lay on the bed panting a while later, their chests rising and falling as they caught their breath.

“Much better,” He murmured against her neck, pressing a soft kiss under her ear as his hand traced patterns on her stomach. “You are the perfect antidote, Mrs. Bridgerton.”

three.

“Are you coming to bed?” He smiled softly as he looked at his wife in the doorway to his office, dressed in her nightgown. It was tighter than usual, her bump had grown significantly in the last six months. Kate complained regularly that she was massive, but Anthony absolutely adored it. He adored her.

She stepped inside and close the door behind her, and he could sense an argument coming. “Let me help.”

He was right.

“Kate, you need your rest,” He replied, shaking his head. “You are carrying our child-“

She crossed her arms across her chest, which now rested on her bump, as she strode towards him. “Anthony-”

“No. It is not a wife’s job to do her husband’s duties-”

“Oh, do you ever stop talking?” Kate hushed him, walking towards him and dragging one of the chair’s in front of his desk to beside him. “You have been cooped up in here all week working extremely hard. You have hardly slept. Besides, I struggle to sleep without you and I keep getting kicked awake by your child.”

He could not help but smile at her, feeling the stress fade away slightly at her mere presence as he leaned toward her in amusement. “My child?”

“It’s your child when it is keeping me awake and treating me as if I am a ball to be kicked,” She grumbled, blinking up at him before moving onto his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. His hands instinctively wrapped around her, one hand cradling her bump.

“Please let me help?” She murmured, her fingertip traced the edge of his jaw as she brought her lips softly to his. “Please?”

“Kate,” He murmured, feeling his willpower fade as her lips moved towards his neck. “Please?” She whispered, feeling daring enough to leave a small red mark on his neck that would show in the morning.

“Fine,” He succumbed, rolling his eyes in irritation as the minx climbed off his lap and sat on her chair, looking very satisfied with herself. “Take this list of names of tenants, and those balances, and write beside them if they have been paid or are outstanding,” He explained, pointing towards the list of tenants and the relevant documentation. It was one of the simpler tasks that took a tedious amount of time, and one she would be able to do.

“Make sure it’s legible,” Anthony reminded her, smirking at her slightly. Her penmanship was something to be desired.

“I am going to pretend I did not hear that,” She looked at him from the corner of her eye, her mouth flat, but it quickly turned into a smile that matched his. He opened his mouth to retort and she put her hand up, a serious expression on her face.

“Please do not disturb me. I am trying to work.” God, he loved this woman.

They worked in a comfortable silence for a few hours, both of them scribbling away through the mountains of paper and his ledgers. Eventually, once it struck midnight, Anthony insisted they finish for the night. He felt a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, a considerable amount of work had been completed. He carried her upstairs, which Kate insisted was ridiculous but laughed the entire way until he lay her on the bed once they reached their bedchamber. Once they were in bed, Kate lay against his chest as his arms wrapped around her, resting on her bump.

“Kate?”

“Mm?” Kate responded, her eyes half closed as she began to doze off into a comfortable sleep.

“Thank you.”

She wiggled slightly until she faced him, her protruding stomach was beginning to make simple movements quite difficult. She turned her head to look at him, sleep forgotten as her fingers reaching to brush his hair out of his eyes. “Of course. It is a wife’s duty to take care of her husband. Even if one’s husband is too stubborn to ask for help occasionally.”

“And I believe it is a husband’s duty to take care of his wife?” He murmured, his lips making their way down her jawline.

“I believe so,” She whispered, closing her eyes as his hands began to push up her nightdress. “A happy wife is a happy life.”

“I could not agree more, Mrs. Bridgerton,” He replied, before he stopped talking and focused on the more important task at hand between her legs.

four.

“What is wrong?” Kate stared at her husband as he undressed for the night on his side of the bed. He had been unusually quiet all evening since he had returned home from his mother’s house. Anthony did not meet Kate’s eyes as he spoke, which was his giveaway. He could never look her in the eyes when he was upset or something was amiss. “Why would something be wrong?” Kate frowned at her husband, moving towards him to take his hand in hers. “We have been married how long? I know every single look and expression on your face. Talk to me.”

“Mother and I had an argument about Hyacinth’s debut to society,” He said, breaking his facade quite quickly as he let out a deep sigh. “Hyacinth got involved and it was not pleasant.”

Kate did not interrupt as he continued to speak, she just squeezed his hand.

“I think she should wait another year before she enters society, she does not. I proposed eighteen was an appropriate age to enter society, they both disagreed. Mother said I was acting foolish and it escalated from there, ending with Hyacinth declaring she despised me.” Kate bit her lip, shaking her head as she took his hand in hers. “She did not mean that. She was cross and she did not think about what she was saying. She adores you.” “I know,” He murmured, the words still echoing in his head and stinging. “I do not understand the rush. She is still a child.”

“I know darling,” She whispered softly, pushing herself up against the headboard so she could wrap her arms around his head and lay it against her chest. “I think she will always be a child in your eyes. But she has grown up now and she is ready.”

“I’m not,” His fingers played with Kates, his voice slightly hoarse as he stared at nothing.

It broke Kate’s heart, truthfully. Kate felt quite helpless, until an idea popped into her head. “I know what will make you feel better.”

Mary, their youngest of barely two months, slept in a crib at the end of their bed. She had been a surprise, a major surprise, since it had been seven years since Charlotte had been born. Kate knew there was a reason she had become pregnant again and she knew it was something to do with the loss of her own mother, Mary, just over a year ago. No one could ever replace Mary, Kate’s Mary, but a new baby had helped fill that gaping loss in Kate’s life when she had to say goodbye to her mother. When Anthony had whispered Mary into Kate’s ear, minutes after baby Mary was born, Kate had sobbed for a while. She may not know her grandmother but Kate would make sure she knew all about her, and so would Anthony, and that was all that mattered.

They had a nurse, but Anthony had been insistent that all four of their children slept in their room at night while they were infants. Particularly Mary, who had been born early and small. The birth had not been pleasant, and it would definitely be their last. Anthony had only relaxed in the last month or so, not spending most of the night checking Mary was breathing every ten minutes. Kate crawled to the end of the bed and reached into the crib, carefully picking up their sleeping baby. She had barely any hair, but the wisps were a chestnut colour just like Anthony. She had Kate’s nose and Anthony’s smile, which she had begun to show them only last week when Anthony had tickled her while they were laying outside on a blanket with the children on a sunny day.

When Kate looked at her baby, her gorgeous little baby, all she saw was her own mother, Mary. It didn’t make sense, but it just did and was such a comfort to Kate.

It was a risk to wake a sleeping baby, as it could turn into a screaming baby, but Mary seemed to sleep through anything. If it made Anthony feel better, it was worth the risk.

Mary was a very relaxed baby, rarely fussy or upset. She was an angel compared to their previous three, particularly Charlotte, who had kept the whole of Bridgerton house awake for a year.

“There we go,” Kate said softly, carefully laying Mary on his chest. “The perfect remedy.”

Anthony immediately shifted slightly, wrapping his arms carefully around Mary and ensuring she was comfortable on his chest. Mary had refused to sleep anywhere but against her mother or her father’s chest the first month of her life and it was a habit they had only managed to break recently. He leaned down carefully, inhaling that sweet baby smell, probably the purest smell in the world and pressed a kiss against her forehead.

“Charlotte will probably be in here later tonight, begging to come in,” Kate murmured, referring to their youngest’s antics of sneaking past her nurse and conning her way into her parents bed. They had little willpower to refuse her. “I wonder what the reason will be tonight, a monster or a ghost?”

Anthony chuckled, shifting his arms around his youngest and resting his cheek against her small head. “She has quite the flair for the dramatics.” “I wonder where she got that from?” Kate teased, pressing a kiss to his cheek as she ran her fingers through his hair. “I do hope you are not insinuating I am dramatic, Kate. I am a perfectly rational man,” He said, turning to smirk at her, a little light sparkling in his eyes. She could see he was feeling a bit better. “It is simply everyone else who is irrational.”

“Most definitely,” Kate said, mockingly nodding in agreement as they grinned at each other. “It is a good thing I find delusion quite charming.”

Anthony, the Viscount of Bridgerton, stuck his tongue out at her.

“I do wish they would stop growing,” Anthony murmured, his fingertips lightly moving up and down Mary’s back. It was one of Kate’s favourite things, watching Anthony with their children. He was so loving, so caring and he adored them with every part of him. He made it so easy to fall in love with him everyday. “Me too,” She murmured in agreement, watching her daughter’s back rise up and down softly as she slept. “Maybe Mary will grace us with our wish. She could stay this small and adorable forever.”

“Possibly,” replied Anthony, his voice nearly a whisper as he carefully shifted himself upwards, Mary curled against his chest. “I have an alternative proposal.”

“Enlighten me,” Kate said, raising an eyebrow at her husband as she carefully held Mary’s small hand between her thumb and index finger.

“They simply shall never get married and we shall stay in Bridgerton house together forever,” Anthony tilted his head slightly, giving Kate a stern look as she was already laughing at him. “I cannot fathom anyone worthy of our children.”

“I presume that is how most people feel about their children and ours are especially wonderful,” She replied, not wanting to tease him too much as Anthony was feeling fragile. “It is a lovely thought and as much as I wish we could keep them this small and ours forever, life must go on. There is no point worrying about the future, we must enjoy the present.”

“I shall need to be sedated for Charlotte’s debut,” Anthony murmured, knowing his wife was right. Of course she was right, Kate was always right. It was quite the nuisance. He did not know what he had done to deserve to have a family as perfect as his, but he needed to enjoy it and let his family enjoy it. Including his sister who was a few miles away quite furious with him.

“We shall all need a drink during Charlotte’s debut,” Kate said, laughing softly at her husband as she kissed the worried lines on his forehead. It was considered improper for women to drink but they would all let that rule slide. “I love her to death, but that child is something else. Quite like her aunt, don’t you think?”

Kate didn’t wait for Anthony’s response. “Hyacinth is a force to be reckoned with. The men of society will not know what is coming,” Kate was trying to make light of the situation to make him feel better, but she knew how difficult it was for him. “She will be controlling them all in a matter of hours. I know it is hard for you, but I promise it will be alright. We still have a long time to go with these four.”

“I know you are right,” He murmured, gulping slightly as he seemed to hold Mary tighter. “It is a frightening thought, her not needing me anymore. Ever since father’s death, they have all needed me. However, in recent times she was the only one I had left. She is Hyacinth. I cannot explain it but she has always been different. She has always needed me and now she is gone.”

“Darling,” She said softly, putting her finger under his chin to tilt it towards her. “Do we not have a Bridgerton here everyday to see you? To see us? There will not be a day that goes by that does not involve one of your siblings, or me, or the children needing you.” “Everyone needs you darling, you are the heart of this very family,” She leaned forward to brush her lips against his.

“What also is important is what you need. That is everyone’s priority as well. It is my number one priority. If you need time to process this and feel sad, that is perfectly okay. Also, everyone does not always need something from you Anthony. They just want you,” Her thumb was making small circles against his cheek as she leaned forward, inches between their lips. “We all adore you. You need to be cared for too and to let people take care of you.”

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” Anthony said against her lips, kissing her as passionately as he could with a baby asleep on his chest.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” She replied as they broke apart, and she pressed a soft kiss to his forehead before resting her nose against his. “We belong together, Lord Bridgerton.”

He smiled at her as she snuggled into his side, her hand covering his on their daughter’s back as they watched their youngest sleep. Whatever would come, he would always have Kate beside him. “Forever and Always.”

five.

The thick stubble had grown on Anthony’s cheek over the past two weeks since he had injured his hand while fencing. An accident had led to a deep cut across the palm of his hand. It was a painful and inconvenient injury and Anthony Bridgerton did not like to be inconvenienced. As for the stubble, Kate found it quite attractive but Anthony, who preferred a clean shave, had begun to find it rather itchy and irritating.

“Kate?” She heard Anthony’s voice call from the bathroom.

“Mm?” Kate was lying on their bed, distracted by the latest Jane Austen novel. It was the talk of London society at the moment and Kate couldn’t put it down. She was ready before her husband for a change for Daphne and Simon’s ball tonight, a rare occasion but always an entertaining one. The children were already in bed so Kate could enjoy her book as Anthony shaved before they departed.

“Would you shave me?”

That was enough to make Kate put her book down. She was not sure if she had heard correctly. Anthony rarely asked directly for help, Kate normally intervened or just knew what to do when it came to her husband, but this time he was willingly asking for it.

“I’ll be right there, sweetheart.” Kate had begged Anthony to let her shave him on a few occasions, out of curiosity and amusement, but he had never given in. She had married the most wonderful man in the world but definitely the most stubborn. A man who would view asking someone for help, including his wife, as the last resort. Anthony was a problem solver, including his own.

She called for a bowl of hot water, soap and some towels and one of the maids brought the supplies within a few minutes.

She walked into their bathroom to find a disgruntled Anthony sitting on the edge of the bath, the razor blade and a towel lying abandoned in the sink. Kate put her finger in the bowl of water he had summoned a while ago, and it was cold. He must have been failing at shaving for a while and she had been too busy with her book to notice.

“Come sit on the bed,” She extended her hand toward his uninjured one, pressing a kiss to it before he threaded his fingers through her own. She could not resist the smile on her face as he obediently sat on the edge of their bed. She put the towel around his neckline to avoid getting his shirt wet, and lightly brushed the water and soap onto his face.

“Do you know what you are doing?” asked Anthony, looking amused as he placed his hands on the back of her thighs. She was standing in between his legs, probably not the smartest idea considering it usually led to certain activities and would distract them from the task at hand.

“Of course. Stay very still,” She said slowly, taking his chin in her hand as she pushed his head slightly so his left cheek was facing her. She wet his cheek again with soap and water, then slowly dragged the blade down his cheek.

“It is amusing to me how much you are enjoying this,” He murmured, a small smirk playing on his lips as she tapped the blade against the edge of the bowl. She felt his fingers lightly tap against the back of her thigh and she gulped.

“Anthony,” She said sternly, removing her hand from his face to lightly tap his wandering hands on her thighs. “Stop distracting me.”

Anthony lightly chuckled, but she could see that look in her eye. She knew that look and she loved that look. It had led to four children and a lot of fun. “You do have a blade against my cheek, dearest. My life is more at risk than yours.”

Kate, the Viscountess of Bridgerton, stuck her tongue out at him.

She removed the blade from his cheek to clean it in the water and as she turned around, he kissed her. She giggled and protested against his lips but as his tongue slipped into her mouth, she lost any control she had. Her face was now covered in soap and was partially wet.

“Anthony,” She whined as they eventually broke apart, but her tone had nothing but adoration in it as she pretended to scowl at him. “I was ready for the ball.”

“You will always be the most beautiful woman in any room,” He replied, smiling innocently at her as he reached up and wiped the remnants of soap off her face. “You ask too much of me if I am meant to sit here and not kiss you. I am only a man, Kate.”

She kissed him again briefly, just because. “You are too smart for your own good. Now, I am nearly done. Hush and let me finish.” She chose to straddle him this time, both her knees on either side of him. What was she to do, not torture her husband when she had the perfect opportunity? His hands were back on her thighs as she straddled him, concentrating carefully on the task at hand. She could count the faint freckles splattered across his nose and cheeks, the ones she had counted a million times and she loved how they darkened in the summer.

“There we go,” She said softly after a few minutes, wiping his clear cheeks with a cloth. There was not a cut or blood in sight. “Perfect.”

He carefully took the blade out of her hand, putting it down on the chair at the foot of the bed before flipping her around so she was underneath him. He leaned towards her, stopping when there was a few inches between them before he spoke. “Thank you.”

“Of course. I love taking care of you,” She replied, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling him towards her, their lips brushing a few times. “Are you not going to inspect my work?”

“There is no need,” He murmured against her lips, his hands working on the buttons of her dress and there was nothing in Kate that could make her stop him, even if they would be late to Daphne’s ball. “I trust you.”

Kate had been his wife for many years, she knew this man inside out, including his demons. Moments like this were precious when Anthony willingly let her help him and take care of him, as he always felt like he was the person who should be doing that. Her incredible husband rarely thought of himself and it broke her heart that he did not think a lot of himself at all. She vowed she would spend every day reminding him how incredible he was.

“You are so very handsome,” She murmured, placing her hands carefully on his cheeks as they both gazed at each other. His words made her flutter inside, her stomach feeling warm and ticklish, a feeling Anthony was the sole cause of, no matter how many years later. “An absolutely wonderful man. I do not think I tell you how much I love you enough. I absolutely adore you.”

“You only do it several times a day,” He teased her, pressing a soft kiss against her lips. “You do tell me enough, although I will never tire of hearing it. I love you so much. I do not think words do my love for you justice, but I love you.”

“You know,” Her lips began to trail kisses across his jaw, as her hands moved down towards his breeches. “I think Daphne will forgive us if we are slightly late.”

Anthony pulled back to grin at her, a delighted expression on his face. “She will forgive us for being half an hour late. It could be considered fashionable.”

Kate smirked back at him, feeling him pulling down her dress. “I was thinking an hour.”

“Oh Mrs. Bridgerton,” Anthony pulled Kate’s dress off completely and she squealed, losing her ability to speak as his lips began to trail their way down her stomach. “I could not agree more.”

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