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romana-after-dark · 8 months

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The Wrong Way (Dark Ending): Going Under, Part 2

Raider!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Raider!Tommy Miller x Fem!Reader

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Summery: After you give birth to Ellie in the cabin, Joel fins you and Tommy, besting Tommy in a fight. What happens to you? What happens to Ellie, Tommy, Lorenzo and the rest of the family Little One has acquired? How does Little One learn to cope with her new reality? Does she fall into the darkness that surrounds Joel and all he touches? Can Joel really change for you and your daughter?

WARNINGS FOR FULL FIC, NOT CHAPTER BY CHAPTER UNLESS SOMETHING NEW IS ADDED AFTER MASTER WARNING LIST: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!! Fic contains graphic depictions of sexual assault, rape, molestation, dubcon/non con. MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH WARNING, graphic violence, murder, manipulation, the horrors, Joel being Joel, Tommy being kinda pathetic, Joel's weird sexual fantasies, breeding kink, abuse of power. Just.... all the bad.

Extra on the executions. Suicidal ideation. Sorry, I should've put tjat in the warnings first chapter but I just came up, so this is your warning now. Im tryingto think of all the hardest stuff that happens now so I can warn ahead of time but sometimes it just happens while writing you know? Things come up. Dont say i didnt want you with major character death

a/n who watched Avatar TLA growing up? There a reference to it at the very end.... that episode traumatized me

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It had been four days before Joel came and got you. The room was cold from the cool outside air; it was far from freezing, only a crisp Wyoming early fall so far. This had proven a benefit, despite the way you shivered under tattered blankets, as it aired out the bucket of piss and shit that was your toilet.

Ellie had to be dead by now. Infants need to be fed regularly, every 2-3 hours according to Maura… your breasts hurt, they hurt so fucking bad sometimes you cried from just that… but it wasn’t a hard leap from your depressed mindset. The pain was aching and you had to squeeze the milk out of your engorged breasts just to have a little relief. Your vagina hurt, too. Luckily you had stopped bleeding, although you wished you’d just bleed out already. Everything was pain and your dreams in the few moments you were sleeping were filled with nightmares.

You weren’t sure what you were living for. You laid on the mattress hour after hour, staring at the broken glass from your fit, thinking you could easily kill yourself… The only thing that stopped you was the effort it would require. Dazed, almost… that was the best way to describe it, all the hours blurring together

Honestly, you hadn't expected Joel to return at all. You figured he killed Ellie or just let her starve, killed Tommy and would just let you waste away in this god forsaken room, the room where so much happened.

Tommy taking your virginity after you begged him, playing go fish for hours.

Joel raping you, loving you, cuddling you.

Nick.

When he walked into the room, you didn’t even look up. You didn’t have the energy anymore. When his strong arms scooped you up, leading you out of the piss-smelling room, you instinctively wrapped your arms and legs around him like before… it had been habit at this point, after a year of doing this and you were no stranger to your body betraying you.

Joel, in turn, held you close. “Just look what you’ve done, hermosa… but it’s okay, we can fix it.”

“No” you whine, head in the crook of his neck. Why was his smell comforting after all that had happened? “We can’t fix this.” Your baby is gone, after all you did to try and save her.

“Yes, yes we can, you just gotta be good.” Of course Joel thought this was fixable. Ellie was only ever his replacement for Sarah, so she was replaceable herself. Joel would put a baby in you again and if it was a boy? Another one. And another, and another until you died, then he’d move onto the next vulnerable young girl.

Joel took you outside. When you saw the raiders all surrounding the yard, a yard that had previously been your comfort, a place you imagined your baby playing, you figured this is where he killed you. You were ready.

“Watch her” And he went into the house. The sunshine and fresh air felt nice, you had to admit. When he returned, he carried a little bundle; the baby blanket Mrs. Munoz knitted, with Ellie’s little face barely peeking out.

“ELLIE!” Joy and sunshine filled your heart again, and suddenly nothing else matter than the fact your daughter lived. Ecstatic, you dash towards her as all the pain of earlier seeming long gone in your desperate need for her, but Joel wouldn’t let you have it just yet. He moved her out from his firm grasp, still holding her but seemingly threatening to drop her. “JOEL NO!”

“She’s safe, little one, don’t you worry… as long as you behave.” He went back to rocking her, a soft expression as he looked at his daughter.

“H-how is she alive? She didn’t feed, I thought- I thought she was dead!”

“You really think I’d let my daughter starve?” His voice was condescending, a slight scoff at the end. “C’mon now, you can’t be that stupid. I know there's not a lot going on in that bimbo housewife brain of yours but I thought you had a little more faith in you than this.” He was… he was laughing at you. All the things he did to you, all the things he’s said… why did this hurt so bad? Joel never called you stupid before… and didn’t he… he threatened to hurt her just a moment ago, didn’t he? Or did he? Maybe you were reading into it too much…

“I’m not… I’m not stupid.” Defensively, you spoke but your eyes remained on your daughter.

“Oh, of course not, sweet girl, of course not.” Was he making fun of you? Why were the other men chuckling? “But I had a plan incase you couldn’t produce milk. I’ve got a freezer full of breast milk from other women, and even some formula. It’s expired but, it’ll do in a pinch.”

As relieved as you were about Ellie living, guilt punched at you. “You… Joel, you took milk away from hungry babies?”

Joel rolled his eyes. “No, of course not. Mrs. Little Feather was producing an abundance so I paid her well for a stash, just in case. I’ll always protect my family” He turned to one of the men and nodded.

Tommy was pushed out the house, hands bound behind him and he was shoved to the ground.

“TOMMY!” But you didn’t dare move, not when Joel had Ellie.

“Honey, fuck, I’m sorry, I-” He was cut off by Joel kicking him in the stomach. Tommy’s left hand was bandaged up from the stabbing.

But Tommy’s reveal wasn’t even the worst. Out of the house came Zach and Lorenzo, bound and gagged, quickly followed by the biggest shock yet. June. It had been a whole year since you’d seen her, never even saying goodbye when you were ripped away from your family. The four of them knelt on the ground, hands tied behind their backs, Lorenzo and Zach at one end of the yard, Tommy and June behind them. Joel shoved you towards Zach and Lorenzo, the guards taking off their mouth gags.

Zach yelled your name. “Run!” But Lorenzo knew better. Lorenzo knew there was no running from Joel, and there was no leaving Ellie behind. You stumble towards them, taking them in your arms. Joel was going to kill them.

“I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry…” You sob, knowing this was because of you.

“Sweetheart.” Lorenzo’s voice called to you, oddly calm given the circumstances. “Sweetheart, look at me.” He waited until you looked him, Lorenzo’s large, brown, droopy eyes calming you the way they always did. “It’s okay. Zach and I… we’ve already made peace with this. It’s gonna be okay.”

“No it’s not!” You protest. “He’s gonna kill you both we will have NOTHING!”

Zach. “You’ll have Dolli.” You look to your big brother. “And I know it’s hard, and I know it’s shit right now, honey it’s shit, but you can’t leave her with Joel, okay? So you gotta do this. Think of mom, think of all she did so we could survive.”

A fresh bout of tears. You sniffle, smelling the grass and the dirt and the filth surrounding you. “But I can’t.” You sob violently. You can’t do this without help, you never could.

“You can-”

“I’m not strong!”

Lorenzo. “You’ve already been strong, always. You survived a lifetime of hell and you put up a hell of a fight, again and again. You’re gonna raise Dolly to be strong like you, okay?”

Ellie. Ellie needed you. Nothing else mattered but her. “Her name… her name Ellie. Joel chose Dolly, I chose Ellie June.”

Zach smiled. “Ellie June. I love it.”

“Your goddaughter, Zach.”

He nodded. “I’ll keep an eye on her, I promise. We both will.”

Joel steps up, still holding Ellie close to his chest with his left hand. “Alright, ‘nuff talk’n”

“No, Joel, please!” You desperately cling to your brothers, a feeble attempt to save their lives when you feel yourself being picked up by familiar arms; Tommy wrapped a strong arm around your middle pulling you away. “TOMMY LET ME GO!”

Kicking, screaming, fighting, you try to pull off him but your legs dangle, treading air.

“Joel.” Tommy called to his brother. “Dolly’s ears.” He referenced the baby in his arms as Joel pulled out the gun.

“There’s a silencer.”

Horror and anguish as you cry for your family, Lorenzo and Zach both mouthing that they loved you although you couldn’t hear a sound anymore, except the sharp eeeeee and muffled voices. The panic had set it.

Lorenzo and Zach come closer together, their bound up finger intertwining together. Joel strides up the the couple, covers Ellie’s ears with his hand and chest and-

BANG! BANG!

Zach and Lorenzo’s bodies felt limp to the ground, and you didn’t have it in you to scream any more. You went into shock, freezing up and zoning out, only barely aware of Joel comforting Ellie as she cried; no doubt startled from the shooting and commotion.

Joel spoke to his men, but you weren’t sure what he said… the only thing in your sights was your dead family and he thought that June and Tommy were probably next…wait, when was Tommy untied?

Joel hand grabbed your face and you heard a faint ‘Joel, stop’ but he didn’t. It was the middle of the sentence before you started to understand again. “-are both dead now. Jack is dead, Maura is dead. But her,” He pointed his gun at June, stepping towards her. “She’s alive. Zach tried to take her, thinking it’d save her. Look what good that did huh?”

You couldn’t speak, but Tommy did. “C’mon, man, she’s got nothing to do with this, don’t kill her.”

“Well Thomas, I’m glad you care so much, that’ll make the next part easier.”

“What are you-”

Joel ignored him. “Set her down.” Tommy did. You wobbled a bit but got to your feet, trying to concentrate on behaving… Zach was right, you needed to do this for Ellie. He walked back to you. “See how easily he listens to me? Like a guard dog. Tommy always was good at following orders.” He looked too Tommy again. “Take three steps back.” Tommy did. “Spin around” Tommy rolled his eyes, but did. “Shake you butt”

“Joel-”

“Do it Tommy”

Tommy did, looking humiliated in the process he wiggled his hips.

“Oh come ooooon” Joel laughs. “Put on a show”

“This is humiliating”

“THAT’S THE POINT!”

You wince at the outburst, wanting to hold Ellie so painfully bad… her little nose was getting runny from the cold, even with a little hat on.

Joel raised the gun to Ellie, and Tommy immidietly complied, shouting at him to knock it off. Jaw set tight, Tommy bent over and stuck out his butt, shaking it to the chuckles of the other men. Tommy fucking Miller, Joel’s previous right hand man. Feared leader, reduced to this indignity… You looked over to June, still bound and gagged and on her knees, looking utterly confused.

“Good job, Tommy” Joel turned back to you. “See how easy it was for Tommy to listen to me? Always been like that, following me around like a lost puppy, desperate for my approval… you know why I untied his hands, little one?” He didn’t wait for your answer. “Because I need you to know he watched. He watched me kill your brother and Lorenzo, he held you back while he watch. He watched me take you, he watched me fuck you on the table, he watched me brand you, and if he had been here last week he would’ve watched as I hung you.”

The whimper from your mouth at the memory is pathetic, but you keep your mouth shut as your eyes cry.

Joel perked up. It was like a shift, that dramatic change in his personalities that was so hard to keep up with. “So here’s my vision! It’s gonna take a while until we can all trust each other but I want us to all be a family.” He nudged his gun, and one of the men moved to June. Joel must have planned this all out, orchestrated it… He gave the gun to his man, and yanked down June’s gag. It was clear she had been crying heavily, but would not give Joel the dignity of begging for her life. June was strong like that. Sweet, kindhearted; a soft person who was undeniably stubborn. “Beautiful thing, aren’t you. Gonna make such a pretty wife.”

June was too proud to beg, but you’d been long suffering indigities. You had no pride left. “No, no, no, no, no JOEL! Don’t do this, I’ll be good, I promise!”

“Relax, bebita.” He laughed at you. “She’s not for me. You’re the only one for me, you know that right? You gave me my daughter back, you’ll always be my wife, no matter what.”

You were more confused than ever; a cooling breeze rustled your skirt, making you realize just how damn sweaty you’d gotten during all this. “Then what-”

Joel took the collar of June’s shirt, dragging her towards Tommy and throwing her at him as she squeaked in shock. Although he caught her, diving towards her falling body and preventing it from hitting the ground Tommy looked as confused as you did.

“I don’t want-”

“She’s your wife now”

“JOEL!” He held her and June clung to him. “This is insane, I don’t want a wife!”

Uninterested, Joel shrugged him off. “Fuck her, don’t, I don’t really care.” Joel strode towards you again but stopped to look over his shoulder at Tommy. “But knowing you, you probably will. Just a matter of whether you hold her down or not.”

Tommy, for all his weaknesses and flaws… you knew he was not that type of man.

“You and June will live in your old room. She can’t leave the room unsupervised until I say so” He turned to you. “Same with you, little one. But Tommy’s gonna watch you both. Know why?”

Finally, fucking finally, Joel handed you your daughter and you scooped her up, sobbing. “Hey baby, hi. Mommy’s here, yeah, mommy’s here now, it’s okay”

The sun was beginning to set, the shadows of the trees casting long over your dead family. “Because I’m choosing to spare his life, He owes me. And if we can all get along, no more run’n, no more fighting, no more ‘Joel stop!’” he mocked. “Then the 5 of us and whatever other children we’re blessed with can all live together as one big happy family.”

Joel sat you between his legs like you always used to after a bath, Ellie in both your arms as he nursed. “Knew you’d fuck up that room, little one. My brave girl. Always so strong, so resilient. You wanted to get to Dolly, didn’t you?”

“Yes” it was the truth, at least. You couldn’t help but feel comfort in Joel’s arms even now… what was wrong with you? Why were you like this? How had he broken you down this badly? “Just… just wanted to be with her…”

“I understand. She’s perfect, isn’t she?”

“Absolutely perfect” and she was, Ellie was everything.

A knock on the door; Joel beckoned them in.

“Watch your fucking eyes.” He snapped at his man bringing you food and water, despite this very man having been there when you were raped in the kitchen… a little breastfeeding wouldn’t had much to the fantasies.

When Ellie was done, fallen quickly asleep, Joel took her and laid her in her crib before doing what you knew was only inevitable.

He laid down beside you, handings trailing you body, muttering about much he missed you, how much he missed your body. “My perfect girl…” In gentle whispers, he spoke praises into your mouth between kisses, hand trailing between your legs. You hated your body for responding to him, you hated the way he made you feel so good and you hated how you would kiss him hours after murdering your brother and friend… But Ellie. Ellie is what mattered. Ellie needed to be safe, she needed her mom, and she needed no more of her family dead. So, you kissed Joel. You kissed Joel the way you had kissed Tommy only earlier this week as he swore to you he’d be the father of the child in that crib. Your life with Tommy crumbled down before you, as did any chance of happiness.

“Joel, I haven't bathed in days…”

“Don’t care, need you”

“Joel it huuurts” You begin to cry, despite knowing that only ever has turned him on more. “Please?” 4 days was not a lot of time to heal, the tearing still evident in you.

Pulling away, Joel looks at you, cupping your face with large, calloused hands. “We need to work together on this, little one. Give a little, get a little. For Dolly.”

Damn him. Damn him and the way he made your stomach burn, damn him and the way his touch felt so good and how you wanted to just be a happy family with him even now… And damn him for knowing how to use Ellie to manipulate you.

“Can we… can we do anal?”

The surprise was evident on his face, bed creaking as he sat up. “You’d prefer to take it in your ass instead of your pussy?”

As you gaze up at him, the concern on his face was clear… oh how he confused you. “I think it would hurt less.”

His features softened as you spoke, laying back down beside you to kiss your neck. “Just focus on my hand right now, sweet girl.” And you did. You did because you were a mess, you were disgusting, you were heartbroken and sad and lonely and you wanted Tommy but you had Joel and he had treated you well didn’t he? Maybe this was survivable… maybe. But you had to please him, and Joel always made you cum. Your pleasure turned him on… so you allowed yourself to sink into the swirling touch of Joel Miller’s fingers.

His touch was gentle but pressing and urgent; patience yet needy, as if making you cum would rebuild the bubble that he had built all those months… and it just might. Your cunt feel empty when it pulses around nothing but you are thankful you are able to get this wet, to orgasm still… The natural lubrication will help with taking his dick up your ass. When the climax was over, you took the chance to relax… it would hurt less if you relaxed.

“Roll over” He ordered, and you did as you were told before Joels straddled your thighs, hands rubbing up and down your mostly-clothes body. “Such a pretty girl… such a perfect girl, and all mine… I don’t care that Tommy fucked this sweet little pussy” Joel reached down to rub your swollen lips. “I don’t care. Once you’re healed up, I’m gonna cum inside you every goddamn day until you give me another baby, gonna fuck a baseball team into you.”

Of course he is. Of course. You wouldn’t expect nothing else from him; he wanted to keep you trapped with him forever… All the love you felt for Ellie was going to multiply tenfold, and you could never, ever leave with that many.

As Joel lined his cock up, swiping it up and down your asscrack and the crease of your thighs, you burry your face in the pillow. Joel wasn’t going to prep you at all, was he? He was going to just fuck you, rip you open and punish you-

“Oh little one… you’ve had a long day, haven't you? Yeah… You’ve been good, I’ll meet you halfway” Joel slid his cock between your plump thighs.

You lift your head off the pillow. “What? What are you doing?”

He began to pump, fucking your thighs and making the bed creak enough you made a mental note to ask Jack to oil it- fuck, Jack was dead, dead because he saw you trying to escape and took you back to Lorenzo. Dead because he went to get Zach to save his life… All of them ended up dead anyway. Jack, Maura, Lorenzo, and my dear brother who had only ever tried to help you. Now June was essentially Tommy’s wife just as you were Joel’s and although you trusted Tommy not to hurt her, she was in a house full of raiders… and Joel.

“Let it out, baby, let it out.” Joel cooed as he thrusted between your legss; one or twice he spit down between them to keep the lubrication going but it wasn’t long before he pulled out, jerking himself as he painted a picture of his cum on your ass and thighs. “Beautiful girl… beautiful.” The cum was like lotion as he rubbed it along you, rubbing your aching muscles… Did he love you? Truly?

When Joel leaves to boil water for the bath, you go to pick up Ellie. You needed her, needed her painfully. You wanted to make up for lost time in those four days she was gone, and away from you; she needed skin to skin, she needed love, she needed her mama’s voice… she needed you.

Joel could hear you from outside the door, peaking through the crack to watch you cuddle his daughter… you were a good mom. You loved Sarah like he did, you cared for her, you wanted the best for her. You just needed to learn, that’s all. Learn that Joel was the only man that mattered, learn that giving Sarah a family with siblings and two loving parents was more important than your own personal feelings. You simple needed to learn that Joel knew what’s best. He’d take care of you, take care of you like he always did; protecting you. He wouldn’t make the mistakes he made with Nick, Tommy, Lorenzo, Jack… Tommy would watch you while he was gone, but he knew Tommy, and Tommy was a simple man. Place a pretty girl in his bed, and it wouldn’t take long before they were fucking, and once Tommy fucked a girl, well… he latched on fast. Probably his mommy issues.

You were so sweet with Dolly, so careful, so attentive… even now, you sang to her and Joel thought this was the only sight he needed to see for the rest of his life: You, freshly fucked and beautiful with Dolly asleep in your arms as you sang.

What Joel didn’t know was your thoughts were consumed by your brother, dead outside with a gunshot in his head. Maybe you could ask him and Lorenzo to be buried together… it was the least you could do for your first protector… your soldier, your guardian who died in vain fighting for your safety after a lifetime of taking your beatings.

“Leaves from the vine

Falling so slow

Like fragile tiny shells

Drifting in the foam

Little soldier boy

Come marching home

Brave soldier boy

Comes marching home”

The bath after sex felt exactly like it always had.

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YEEEEEEEEEEEESH goodbye Zach and Lorenzo!!! my babies! my favorite couple! (im so sorry fen. I murdered your boy!) Also sorry angela buuuuuuuuuutttt you knew this was happening.

Honestly my heart aches for Zach. I have an older brother who was largly my protector in my childhood, my best friend for so long and I love him lots. Thats who zach is based off of for me but i dont wanna give a faceclaim bc I tryyyyyyy to make little one race inclusive (i know i didn't do perfect with the details of her bruisings but it can be hard) If any of my mutuals wanna see a pic Ill show you XD

Remember when I said taylor russle was June's faceclaim? I lied. I saw a picture of Alisha Boe and was like!!!!!! wait no thats her!!!! so now shes on this header.

JUNE AND TOMMY PLOT TWIST what do we think will happen there??? (June is canon bisexual, so dont let her marrying Maura in ghost of you series throw you off. She's the one who told little one all she really knew about sex.)

PLEASE LEMME KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS AND THEORIES!!!! RBS ARE SO IMPORTANT TO SPREAD WORK but I like you know what you guys are thinkig!!! what part was the hardest to read? what are your thoughts on how this goes? One june and tommy? the deaths of jack and maura as well as tommy and lorenzo? Joel suddenly being very condesending to little one and almost like a schoolyard bully to tommy? all this happening while holding ellie?

He kinda reminds me of Joe Goldberg in You lol carrying Henry around with him on his lil stalking trips

@pimosworld @rubyfruitjungle @moriartyyouwhore @k-ra @the-fox-den @jenna-ortega @alwaysmicado @lunar-ghoulie @ladynightingale @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @maura-honey @fandxmslxt69 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog

#Joel Miller #Joel Miller smut #tw rape #dub con #non con #dark joel miller #romana after dark #dark!Joel #the last of us hbo #joel miller fic #joel miller reader #joel miller reade smut #dark joel miller reader #tommy miller fem reader #tommy miller smut #tommy miller fem!reader #the wrong way fic #the wrong way series #tommy miller

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eternally-smitten · 4 months

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So Close

summary: Herbert invites Natalie over after slowly realizing some feelings he has

word count: ~2.2k

content warnings: i have no idea how to label it, but there's like a small creature made of fingers and an eye and i describe it as "insect like" and compare it to a spider.

author's note: "oh i'll just write and see where it takes me" liar. i wrote 2k words of this. i needed touch starved herbie and i needed it NOW. you can also pry my favoite literary devices from my cold dead hands i love them SO MUCH

banner credit: florietas

“Will this phone ever stop ringing?” Herbert muttered to himself, making sure to lean away from the microphone in case she picked up.

The phone continued ringing with no sign of being picked up and it was starting to irritate him. His hands nervously toyed with the coiled cord in an attempt to calm himself down but it was no use. It seemed like nothing could make him relax. He was more jittery than usual and Herbert could swear that he could hear his heartbeat in his ears. It could even be heard over the infernal ringing of the phone.

Lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub.

Brrring, brrring.

“What are you doing?” Daniel came up behind him, accidentally startling him

Herbert whipped his head around to snap at Dan for sneaking up on him like that, but she then picked up the phone.“Hello?”

“Natalie,” He cleared his throat while shooting his roommate a glare. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

“Herbert! Oh, no, no, not at all! I’m so sorry for taking so long to pick up!” She sounded happy to hear from him. “I was caught up in reading and I didn’t even realize the phone was ringing. I’m glad I didn’t miss you!”

He let out a pleased chuckle. “Likewise.”

“You are calling a girl?” Dan tried and failed to resist the urge to laugh. “Not just any girl, but Natalie? Herbert, I didn’t think you had a human heart until now.”

He clasped a hand over the bottom of the phone and shushed him. “Be quiet! She’ll hear you!” Herbert then cleared his throat before turning back to the phone. “I apologize, what did you say? I’m afraid Daniel is distracting me.”

Natalie giggled on the other end. “Will you two ever get along? I was just asking how you are.”

“I’m fine, thank you. I did not call you for simple pleasantries, though.”

“I know you well enough to know that. What do you need?”

Herbert curled the phone cord around his finger and turned away so that Dan couldn’t see his face. “I’m happy you asked. Would you like to meet me here whenever you're free? This weekend at the very latest. Although, I’d prefer to see you sooner.”

Dan leaned on the wall next to him and gave him a concerned look. Herbert shifted again so that he didn’t have to look at Dan’s face. The way he was looking at him made him even more nervous than before.

“I’d love to! Let me um, check my schedule. It’s around here somewhere.” He heard her place the phone down followed by the shuffling of some papers before she finally picked it back up. “Actually, I’m free this evening if that works? I just have some work to do right after this call but nothing else after that.”

“Perfect. See you then.” He hung the phone up before Natalie could say goodbye. Then, he went to walk past Dan to get to the basement but he was blocking his path.

His roommate’s curiosity was eating away at him. “Herbert, why did you invite her here?”

“Am I not allowed to have company over?” He said emotionlessly. “You have women in and out of your room all the time. What makes it so different when I do it?”

“It’s not that and you know it.” He shook his head. “You’re not going to…show her what you do, are you?”

Dan wasn’t having it. “You cannot keep using her for these macabre studies! You’re going to get her killed and-!”

Herbert refused to make eye contact with him. “I don’t believe that it’s any of your business. Besides, she already knows so I’m not understanding why it would be so wrong if I did have her participate again.”

“Who says I’m using her?” He sounded offended. “I’m merely showing her my experiments. It’s an honor.”

“Can’t you be normal and ask to take her to a movie?” He let out an exasperated sigh. “Or a simple dinner date?”

“A…date?” Herbert furrowed his eyebrows at the thought. He’s never considered doing such a thing with anyone before.

He blinked a few times in disbelief. “How is it that you are so smart but everyone but you can plainly see that you like her?”

“I like her?” He asked, still confused.

Dan couldn’t help but laugh at him. “Why am I not surprised that this is your first crush? Just promise me you won’t get her hurt.”

“I think I’m a bit more professional than that, Daniel.” He shifted his weight between his feet. “Natalie will appreciate my findings. I was just looking for someone to share that with.”

“Sure,” he gave up on trying to argue and decided to go upstairs, still a bit worried about his roommate’s intentions.

Once he was sure Dan went into his room, Herbert retreated down into the basement to pass the time while he waited for Natalie. This proved to be a difficult thing to do, though, because the entire time he kept stopping to check his watch every few minutes. He swore his watch was broken or something with how time seemed to pass so slowly to him.

What did she mean by “evening”, anyway? Six o’clock? Seven? Eight? Or did she actually mean late at night? These questions buzzed in his head and distracted him while he tried to focus on working. He couldn’t understand why he was so anxious to see her.

He chalked it up to him just being excited to share these scientific discoveries with someone that wasn’t Dan. His roommate has already heard all of his speeches time and time again but Natalie hadn’t. Herbert just wanted someone new to converse with about his studies in life and death. There wasn’t anything special about that, was there?

Before Herbert could think of an answer to fool himself with, the doorbell rang. He rushed up the basement steps to go answer it, once again hearing nothing but his own heartbeat.

Lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub.

His fingers hooked around the little curtain that covered the window on the door and saw Natalie on the other side of it. She excitedly waved at him upon seeing him and he was quick to unlock the door for her to let her inside.

“Hi!” She beamed at him. “I’m not too late, am I? I tried to rush, I really did.”

He shook his head. “No, you’re fine. Right on time, actually.”

“Oh, good!”

“Follow me.” He wasted no time with small talk before turning his back to her and beckoning her to follow him back into the basement.

She obliged, all too curious to see why he had called her over and seemed rather keen on doing so. The pair descended down into the dark, cold basement and Herbert shut the door behind them for privacy. Then, he led the way to one of the many tables he had set up and gestured to it.

“Come, look.” He smirked, calling her over.

Natalie walked towards him and watched as he excitedly pulled away the sheet covering his new experiment. It was a few mismatched fingers and a lone eyeball. The sight was a bit grotesque but it wasn’t anything she wasn’t used to with knowing a man like Herbert West.

This was the closest he has ever been to her. The realization hit him intensely as he noticed how he could smell her rose scented shampoo she used this morning. He felt his breath hitch in his throat and he attempted to swallow whatever nervousness was eating away at him. The sweet smell of her soap just wouldn’t stop flooding his thoughts, though.

“Closer,” He commanded as he grabbed her shoulders and placed her right in front of him. “I want you to see it up close.”

Lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub.

His heart was going crazy again. It was even worse now that Natalie was near him. Herbert had to fight through the distracting noise to speak to her. “Now, take a little reagent. Not too much. Just a little will do the trick.”

His hand wrapped around hers as he guided her to the reagent. He helped her dip the instrument into it to only get the smallest dose possible before pulling her hand towards the strange abomination he put together just moments before. To do this, Herbert had to lean in very close to her. So close that he was almost pressed up against her back. His head was directly above her shoulder so that he could see what he was doing, too, and all he had to do was lean down just a few centimeters to rest his chin on it.

Herbert’s posture was still and rigid when he became all too aware of just how close he was to her. He pushed these thoughts aside to help her put the smallest amount of reagent on the arachnid looking creature. Out of the corner of his eye, he was closely watching Natalie’s face.

“Ohh,” she excitedly gasped as the thing writhed in the tray.

Soon enough, it started to move. It peered up at them curiously with its one eye and explored the table it woke up on. Natalie was frozen in place and watched in amazement as this creature experienced new life. It was fascinating and wonderful.

Herbert was still standing very close to her so he too could watch what he just made. But he wasn’t really paying attention to the finger spider, though, he was more focused on her. The way her eyes lit up once it started to move was enough to make him feel warm in the face.

Lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub.

He silently prayed that Dan wouldn’t sneak down to spy on them so that they wouldn’t be interrupted. If he were to come down, he would see the softest smile that Herbert has ever had. He wasn’t even aware that he had such a look on his face. It felt so natural to look at Natalie with this sense of pure adoration. That was something that was so foreign to him before but was now an instinct.

“This is…wow!” Natalie whispered, holding her hand out so that the makeshift insect could crawl on it.

“I knew you’d appreciate it.” He muttered, looking at her through his lashes.

She held the little thing in her hands and watched it in pure fascination. “It’s amazing how you made this.”

“Well,” He forced himself to step away from her. “I put the thing together and made the reagent, yes, but technically you brought it to life.”

A joyous laugh erupted from her. “Thank you for sharing this with me. I’m so glad you invited me over to show me this.”

“So am I.” He admitted rather sheepishly.

Herbert wanted so badly to be close to her again. He wanted to feel her warmth, feel her hand against his, be able to smell her soap or perfume again. Anything. He never knew just how much he craved someone else’s touch, specifically Natalie’s, until today.

She leaned over to take a glance at his watch. “Damn, it’s awfully late. I’m a bit busy tomorrow so I should probably get going.”

No.

No, it can’t be that late. This can’t be over already. He couldn’t just let her slip away.

“Is it really?” Herbert asked, trying not to sound shaken. “You wouldn’t want to stay for tea or anything like that?”

“Oh, I would love that.” Natalie begrudgingly placed the man-made creation back into the tray. “But I need to go.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” She offered him a weak smile. “I really enjoyed our time tonight, though. I enjoyed all of this. Thank you so much.”

Natalie turned to leave and without thinking, Herbert reached out and grabbed her wrist. Once he came to his senses, he let go of her and cleared his throat.

“Are you busy this weekend?” He questioned bluntly.

She thought for a few seconds before shaking her head. “No, I don’t think so.”

He fixed his glasses and had trouble looking her in the eye. “If you’d like, maybe we can see a movie.”

Herbert said it more as a statement than a request, but Natalie knew what he was getting at.

“Are you asking me to accompany you to a movie this weekend?”

Being embarrassed, all he did was curtly nod. He never assumed that he would end up in such a position. To be fair, he’s never really cemented enough relationships to even consider that someday, he might want to do something as mundane as going to a movie with someone.

A soft blush tinted Natalie’s cheeks. “I would love that. I would really love that, actually.”

“This weekend it is, then.” Herbert said flatly, still staring at his shoes.

“This weekend it is.” She repeated. “Have a good night, Herbert.”

“You, too.”

He watched her turn once again to leave. Only this time, he didn’t stop her despite everything in him telling him to. He knew he would see her again soon enough, so he let her slip through the cellar door and leave. The door shut behind her with a loud thud and her footsteps slowly faded into silence.

Dan’s advice actually worked.

Herbert wrung his hands as a way to soothe himself while he thought about what just happened this evening. A little smirk tugged at his mouth while he replayed her words over and over in his mind. The ones he could listen to over the still rapid beating of his now human heart, of course.

Lub-dub, lub-dub, lub-dub.

tag list: @blood-moon-ships @bobmckenzie @kylars-princess @bioexorcizm @gideongrovel @weirdgirlgf @felixrichtershubby @nonesenseships @fates-theysband @lieutenantselnia please lmk if you want to be added/removed! :)

#my stuff ♡#🫀꒦꒷alive again꒷꒦🧪#self ship fanfiction #ok to rb!

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tr4sh-hive-3 · 1 year

Text

i need HELP pLEASE (& thank you)

fuck fuck fuck fuCK fUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK

i need help.

I am simply in shambles.

hi! my name’s pan, I’m 13, and I’m failing all my classes. Fuck! I’m so lonely. Everyone’s disappointed in me. I can’t do anything. I can’t do anything. Please help me.

I want to do something. I need to do something, anything. I can write. I can go full fucking Hamilton on this bitch. Like tomorrow won’t arrive, like I’m running out of time, like it’s going out of style, all that jazz. that’s my only skill, but fuck it’s pretty goddamn useful. I can do five (5) things; read, write, think, talk, and love. last one probably wouldn’t be super useful for college.

okay, I think I’ve calmed down a bit. hear me out. I will post something on tumblr everyday. everyday. cause if I can’t do something regularly that actually takes consistent memory and planning and commitment and all that fucking jazz I’m gonna start having suicidal daydreams again. even if it’s a stupid shitpost, I need————fucking something. This post has been in my drafts for, probably, some amount of weeks. I didn’t even finish that last sentence, “I need-“. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.

Yeah, writing is not useful. Theoretically, it should be, right? I should be seducing teachers and colleges and all sorts of academics with essays, but I’m not. I’m not even that good at writing. Mama says I am but she’s fucking lying. She also says I’m beautiful and smart and hardworking. The only reason I don’t have suicidal fantasies is cause of my mama. I love my mama very much. But she’s a fucking liar.

I can’t write. (4).

The only thing I read is fanfiction. I’m just gonna be honest ‘bout that. I’ve read the first 5 chapters of Divergent and Jesus fucking Christ it’s boring as fuck. Hold on: reading test scores. I’m usually in the 99th percentile for reading comprehension/proficiency. And lemme tell you, every time I take one of those silly little tests, it does WONDERS for my ego. But I am unable to read regularly.

I can’t read. (3).

Pretty sure I have severe social anxiety. I’ve always thought I would be able to talk to and entertain and charm people easily. Because I can talk to myself. I’m always talking to myself in made-up scenarios. And I’m always charming and entertaining. It’s so annoying when I’m trying to socialize with actual humans and I keep stuttering and going quiet and covering my face in embarrassment. And at first I thought it wasn’t that bad. That I could make those annoying-ass mannerisms kinda cute, right? And I could lean into it and make “cute’n’shy” the selling point of my personality. I know that sounds super cringey. This whole post sounds super cringey. And my last post too. I’m so scared that everyone else thinks I’m cringey and annoying and obnoxious and too loud or too quiet and not worth talking to. Anyway, that selling point does not work. It just gives me more anxiety. And fuck if I know the impression it makes on anyone else.

I can’t talk (to other people). (2).

I think I might be cupioromantic. I’ve read about romance. I’ve heard it described as butterflies and ecstasy pills. Romantic, sexual attractions are supposed to be strong feelings. Or at least enjoyable ones. And heartbreak is supposed to feel physically painful. I’ve never felt any of those. I thought I was touch-starved, but there’s this guy that I don’t particularly like who says he has a crush on me and we cuddle at the bus stop and sure the cuddles are fine and I don’t mind his company but I am not attracted to him at all. For some reason, I thought cuddling with a tolerable person would be super nice? But it’s not. So now I’m kinda just doing it so he doesn’t feel rejected. Not that I’m leading him on! I’ve been very clear that I am very much not attracted to him. I guess we’re friends. He refers to me as his crush. I don’t like that. This love rant has gotten kind of off topic. Back on track; I keep having these fantasies with a nameless person in which I hold their hand, kiss their forehead, make them pancakes, sing them love songs, write them love letters, give them little romantic gifts, pet their hair till they fall asleep, etc. I’ve never actually felt that way about a real person. I might not ever feel that way about a real person. All this romance stuff is really confusing and annoying. I’ll just stick to platonic relationships for now. But I don’t have any friends. I really hope everyone’s indifferent towards me. It’s so much easier to be unknown than it is to be disliked. I’m not sure which one I am.

I can’t love. (1).

My grandfather patented a medical imaging thingamajig. He was pretty smart. He’s dead now. I’m actually typing this from one of his three phones that I inherited cause my old one got stolen. I always liked the bastard. My dad yelled at him a lot but he didn’t give a shit. He never got upset or offended or quiet or loud back when my dad was an ass to him. Maybe he wasn’t the best parent. His kids (my dad and tia) turned out to be some nasty pieces of work. Actually, just my dad. Tia’s fine—just kinda loopy and alcoholic. She’s really nice. Her husband’s an ass, though. And her son. I can’t really blame the son. His parents are a little subpar. I got off topic again. Sorry. It’s kinda late and I’ve been dreadfully sick these last few days. You’ve got an attention span of steel if you’ve made it this far. Sorry again, back on track:

Following the pattern of this text post, I am now going to prove my state of <no thoughts head empty>.

I overthink things. A lot. I think there’s something wrong with me. Or maybe I don’t. Maybe my thoughts are completely normal. Maybe this is what it’s like inside everyone’s head. But if I’m the same as everyone else, why is it that the average “everyone else” can function as a human being? I can’t function. I can barely brush my teeth everyday. Let alone exist bearably in a school setting. Grades are the only things that matter right now. And mine are shit. So I don’t matter. I can’t even force myself to try. All of it is so fucking boring. AND I’M OFF TOPIC. AGAIN. FUCKING CHRIST. MY GRADES? SHIT. GRADES DIRECTLY CORRELATE TO? INTELLIGENCE AND MANAGEMENT SKILLS. INTELLIGENCE AND MANAGEMENT SKILLS DIRECTLY CORRELATE TO? THINKING. ABILITY TO THINK. ABILITY TO BRAIN PROPERLY. BRAINING. BRAINING WELL. ZAPPING THE FUCKING BRAIN CELLS IN PROPER FUCKING ORDER. ALL THE BRAIN CELLS. FUCKING. BRAIN CELL ORGY. HOTEL? MOTHERFUCKING TRIVAGO.

Think? I cannot. Can’t think. I cannot think. (0).

Okay! That’s all five! I have zero (0) skills! Yay! Shit! I have provided evidence and reasoning. I’m so proud of myself. I’ve finally gotten to the end of this godforsaken text post. This bitch has been in the drafts for weeks. What was even the point of this? Is this what is feels like to finish something? To accomplish a task?

If you’re actually reading this, congratulations. You’re ready to kill god. If you haven’t already. You have the focus of a goddamn hawk.

I. Am. Going. To. Stop. Rambling

I. Am. Going. To. Post. Everyday.

(insert clever sign-off here)

0 notes

mindofharry · 3 years

Text

Be My Baby

In which Prince harry and Princess Y/N are set to marry and are more than happy about it. They celebrate in more ways than one.

AHHHH!!! ITS HERE!!! FINALLY! Prince harry is my guilty pleasure. pls treat him with the respect he deserves. these two are officially my favourite people ever.

fluff & FILTHY SMUT!!!!!! feedback is welcome as always! <3

“Princess Y/N is arriving soon, Harry” Anne, the queen of england said putting down her tea. Harry is the prince, next in line for the throne - Marriage is very important to the throne and for the throne. Anne has been very strict about that, preparing Harry for marriage. Princess Y/N of wales, is who Harry is meeting with today. Hopefully, to settle a deal. Harry has never cared for marriage or for a partner. He’s a lone wolf as his family would describe. But if he wants to be king, he needs to marry. And Y/N is looking like the only option at the moment.

Harry nodded putting the paper down and looking up at his mother. He pursed his lips leaning back in his seat.

“Is something the matter, dear?”

Harry shook his head “No, mother. Just tired” he lied, reassuring his mother. Anne didn’t press any further just got one of the servants to pour her more tea. She could read harry very well, she knew her son better than he knew himself. Y/N is perfect for him. Even if they do not marry, she will be a life long friend. But anne is sure they will marry within the year.

And Queen Anne is never wrong.

Y/N was late.

Harry was beginning to become bored, don’t get him wrong he loves his sister and mother. But he can only take so much. All he wanted to do was to be curled up with a book in the abandoned side of the castle - no one except for the young prince had been there. It was locked up for years before harry found the key, it was like a whole new world in there. It was dirty, messy, filthy - just how harry liked it. He decorated a room in there, and it’s like his safe place from all of this. All of these stupidly important responsibilities. His safe haven.

They were meant to be meeting, talking about their futures together. If his mother thought this was what was best for the country, then harry would push through. He hadn’t see Y/N in years, meeting when they were both much younger. No pressure, just the two kids playing in the fields. Y/N was beautiful, so care free. Harry wished he was like Y/N - the only think she seemed to care about were the moon, the sun and the stars. They never saw each other again after that, they have both obviously seen each other in papers and at events. But never talked. Y/N didn’t know why, neither did harry. They weren’t on the same chapter in life. But now, they’re both willing to do what is best for their country.

And maybe it wouldn’t be too bad marrying a soon to be king.

A servant comes into the dining room bowing at the styles family. Harry waits for him to speak - except a tall girl, bumps into him making the servant fall foward. Y/N (the tall girl) giggled, before clearing her throat and bowing at the styles family. Harry smirked and leaned back. Anne was standing a smile on her face as she saw her soon beaming for the first time in months.

“Your highness” Y/N said bowing, nearly falling down again. But she grinned covering it up. Her dress was long and tight - her mother made her wear it. She would much rather be in a nice flowy dress in the woods right now. Maybe reading about the sun. But her mother needed her to do this, so Y/N would.

Y/N’s father died a couple of months back, it was sudden and no one saw it coming. So her mother needed her to marry as Y/N is the oldest of four girls. They needed a man of the house and once Y/N married, harry would be that man. Y/N didn’t like that one bit. She could be the man of the house if she wanted to. She didn’t understand why they needed a man to pay for things, to do stuff for them. Women are just as capable. But there was no fighting with Y/N’s mother. And Y/N knew she was having a rough time without her husband and Y/N’s dad.

“Princess Y/N, it’s good to have you here” Anne said, as a servant helped her back into the seat. Y/N had the same treatment but she looked rather uncomfortable. She was seated infront of harry, which was glad of. It’s a nice view, she’ll admit. He had grown into his baby face, she thought. And that hair. Fuck, that hair.

“Thank you for inviting me, your highness” Y/N said smiling softly. “Your castle is amazing” She said and Anne nodded pointing around at the paintings. “I actually just got these new paintings in from a new artist in rome. Just beautiful, right harry?” Anne said, giving harry the look. His mother is giving him that look a lot recently, Anne just wants what is best for him and harry just doesn’t seem to care at all. It’s like he’s away from reality. In another universe half of the time. Anne was hoping Y/N would be able to bring him back down to earth, but from her entrance in here - Harry and Y/N are a lot more similar than she thought.

“Yeah, they’re beautiful” Harry said staring at the girl infront of him. Y/N blushed under his stare. She had never felt anything like this before for a man. Her stomach was in knots and her cheeks were getting hotter by the second.

The dinner was nice. It was quiet with Y/N trying to keep up the small talk - Anne was impressed with that. Everyone she had invited to the palace would only talk when spoken to, but Y/N had a certain way about her. She had manners of course, the kindest soul, but she talked. She could talk all day if she was allowed. She just never ran out of things to say. But the food was really good, so Y/N was quieter than usual. Harry had one question: did they feed her in the city? The way she was eating was like she had been starved for years.

“This is amazing” Y/N said putting her fork down. Anne grinned at the girl nodding to herself. She had found a keeper.

“Harry, why do you show Y/N around? She’s going to be staying here for the next couple of weeks” Anne announced and Y/N nearly choked on her water, she tapped her chest.

“I am?-“

“she is?”

Harry and Y/N both spoke at the same time, Anne tutted and ordered the servant to fill up her wine.

“Your mother and I have arranged it. Everything you have is here already, you’ll have your own quarters too. Your horse is being transported down here as we speak” Anne said making new room for arguing. “Y/N your mother said she would be happy for us to host you here if the dinner went accordingly. And i think it went more than accordingly” Anne continued sipping her wine.

Harry and Y/N looked to each other their eyes both wide with amusement and shock. Only their parents would do this.

“Now, run along. Gemma and I have some talking to do” Anne ordered, the servants came and helped the princess and prince up following them out of the dinning room. Y/N was rather uncomfortable with the servants being everywhere, she had a lot more freedom at home.

“Hey, you wanna do something fun?” She asked and harry raised an eyebrow in amusement.

“Hey! Intruder” Y/N yelled and the servants looked around quickly, harry was startled when Y/N laughed loudly taking his hand in hers and running down the hallway towards the abandoned part of the castle. Harry grinned and laughed loudly as they ran together.

This girl, he thought.

The door was locked. Harry brought a key out of his pocket and Y/N laughed loudly making harry shush her as he unlocked the door. Quickly they made themselves into the abandoned quarters and giggled to themselves when they heard the servants feet making their way to this side of the castle - but immediately they turned away, knowing that they weren’t allowed on this side of the palace.

Harry was distracted with locking the door, but Y/N was amazed. She looked around at this place and couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her. This place is really fucking amazing, she thought. It’s obviously abandoned, that man she could tell - but it was still so beautiful. Paintings, upon paintings and books at every end. There was high ceilings and stained glass windows giving a nice hew to the room. Y/N brought her hands to her hips and spinned around her dress moving as she did.

“This place is fucking amazing!”

Harry laughed and finally got the door locked popping the key back in his pocket. He moved beside the beautiful girl and didn’t say anything. But Y/N knew.

“You come here often?” She asked and Harry nodded.

“Found it a couple years ago. Think it was my fathers” He said and Y/N sighed looking around.

“It’s beautiful” you’re beautiful, he wanted to say but he bit his lip instead walking in the direction of his safe haven. Y/N quickly caught up placing a hand on his, harry flinched at the touch. This definitely wasn’t allowed. If anyone saw they’d have to marry immediately. But nobody was here, he reminded himself. And with that he squeezed Y/N’s hand a little tighter.

Harry opened the door the room he had been coming to for years now. It had a few chairs, a huge window with curtains on each side, a fire place in the middle and blankets and pillows surrounding the room. Y/N smiled to herself as she saw harry become more himself. It was like this room allowed him to be himself.

“You come in here often?”

Harry nodded making himself comfortable on one of the pillows, Y/N soon followed sitting very close to the prince. Harry had no complaints at all.

“I come here most days. When i need to take a breath, escape my mother and the stupid royal family” Harry said and Y/N giggled leaning in to harry, their lips close.

“I can think of many ways we can escape reality. Why don’t we try one of them?”

Harry let out a sigh and placed his hand on Y/N shoulder, it fell down her arm to her waist. Harry had been with people before, he had kissed and pleasured many, many people. But never did he feel like this. He felt as if she was a goddess, and she would brake it the touch of his finger. She looked almost fragile, like a painting.

“Kiss me, Harry” She ordered and harry wasted no time, placing his lips on hers.

Her lips are soft and gentle, just as harry had expected. He moved his hands up her hips to her shoulders again, Y/N moaned letting harry's tongue into her mouth. Harry groaned and pulled away smirking at that flushed look on her face. He loved it.

Y/N bit her lip standing up, unzipping her dress. She turned around, the only thing she had was a small night dress and corset. Harry cursed under his breath standing up behind her. Everything felt so intimate. They both felt a lot of things, Y/N never wanted this to stop. Harry hugged her from behind, kissing the back of her neck. After a few seconds, Y/N turned around in his hold, holding his gaze. She began to take off her corset and night dress, now bare. She felt confident in Harry's glare, he made her feel good. He sucked in a breath looking down at her perky breasts, her nipples hard from the temperature of the room. He made a mental note to put the fire on after this, Harry knew you two would be in here for as long as you possibly could. He knew his mother would be beyond pissed that they had gone off alone together.

Harry placed a hand on Y/N’s breast, teasing her nipple with his index finger. His rings were cold on her skin making her whimper. Harry smirked at the sound, lowering his head and taking her nipple in his mouth his tongue swirling the nub of it. Y/N’s hands found harrys hair and she tugged on it hard.

“Fuck” She cursed and harry let go with a pop, again he smirked at the sight of the princess. So undone and flustered. Harry absolutely loved it. Holding her gaze, he began to undress unbuttoning his shirt and pants. Heat rushed to his penis, as Y/N watched him undress.

“Want to have you in my mouth” Y/N said, getting on her knees. She knew she would have bruises by the end of this - but she knew it would be worth.

“Don’t make me cum” Harry ordered, Y/N just smirked and pulled his underwear down almost drooling at the sight of his red, cock full of pre-cum. What a sight, she thought. And it’s fucking huge. Bigger than she thought that’s for sure.

She hummed, pumping harry’s rock hard cock. His head flew back, a moan filling the room. Harry wished her hair was pinned back, he needed some to grip. He took both of his hands and gripped the side of her head. Y/N spit on his cock, keeping eye contact with harry.

“Shit”

Y/N licked the tip, running her tongue over the slit, tasting the saltiness of his pre cum. Harry’s eyes rolled to the back of his head.

“You taste so good” She moaned, finally taking his full cock into her mouth. Her hands began pumping the base of the shaft, as she sucked him off. Harry moaned, but tapped the side of her head.

“Need to be in you, no more foreplay” He said and Y/N pouted whipping her lips.

“But i like having you in my mouth” Y/N argued, harry smirked pecking her lips, tasting himself on them. He hummed in agreement. “Next time, let me fuck you” He said kissing her neck, Y/N sighed and placed her lips on his before crawling over to the fireplace - there was a white sheet layed out. Y/N lay down and harry kissed down her stomach, teasingly kissing her thighs. “You’re definitely wet enough for me, aren’t you princess?” Harry said slapping her pussy, Y/N moaned and nodded.

Slowly, harry thrusted into Y/N making them both whimper. “Fuck, you feel so good” Harry said, kissing your lips. Y/N just moaned, gripping his back and putting her legs around his waist. Harry began to move faster, his hands either side of Y/N.

“Faster” Y/N said and harry complied, pounding into her. The moans coming out of the both them were enough to make them both cum within seconds. And that’s basically what happened. They both climaxed, harry falling down into Y/N’s chest. Y/N only felt pleasure and ecstasy.

Shit, her mother picked a good one.

***

“Fuck” Y/N panted into harry’s mouth as he took against the wall. They were left alone for ten minutes, and this happened. They were looking at the new paintings and architecture Anne had got, browsing around the hall. Harry had convinced the servant that his mother was calling and of course the poor servant couldn’t dismiss it, so they had a good ten minutes while the servant searched for the queen.

Harry pounded into her the paintings on the wall knocking loudly, Y/N laughed loudly making harry put a hand over her mouth.

“Don’t want to attract any attention, do we princess?”

They continued their hot and very messy quicky and then made their way to the gardens. Y/N and harry soon found that the gardens would be another safe haven. Beautiful flowers and when the sun is shining a beautiful place to sit and relax.

They couldn’t wait to marry - seen as harry wants Y/N in his bed, all the time. They fuck like bunnies, it’s amazing how they haven’t been caught as of yet. When they get their own palace, harry will christen to the whole place. They’ll fuck in every corner. Every room. Every library and garden.

Y/N looked at harry smiling as he lay on the grass. No one was around as the servant hadn’t arrived back. Y/N quickly looked around before pulling harry into what she could only assume was a place to keep all the fruit and veg away from foxes. It was closed off and you could lock it from the inside.

“Jesus christ Y/N” Harry mumbled kissing your neck as you leaned back on a bench.

“Another round?” You asked with innocent eyes.

“Another round” Harry confirmed lifting up the bottom of her dress and pushing her down so she was flat on the bench. He kissed up her legs, biting down on her thigh.

He pulled up her night gown and saw her bare pussy, wet and glistening just waiting for him. He could cum at the sight. He moaned kissing her thigh, teasing her.

Y/N tugged at harry’s hair, giving him a warning. “Stop, teasing” She pouted and harry smirked finally making his way towards your pussy.

Y/N closed her eyes when she felt harrys breath against her core. “so wet, princess” Harry said, the vibrations going right through her body making her jerk up a little. Harry loved the affect he had on her, the littlest thing would make her jolt with pleasure.

Harry spread her legs a little more, his tongue licking up her slit. Y/N’s tugged on harry’s hair, moaning loudly. Harry watched her unfold becoming so flushed, but Y/N looked so very beautiful in this light.

He pressed his lips to your clit, flicking his tongue up and down. Your hips moved with his tongue movements, harrys hands made their way to your hips trying to get them to stay in place. You wrapped your legs around his shoulders and began to shake and moan.

“Fuck me” You murmured coming down from your high.

“Oh, i will princess”

The days went on and more fucking occurred. Again they fucked like absolute bunnies. They were sure everyone knew by now, but the servants were way too afraid to say anything. Anne would have everyone’s head if she found out what they were doing.

“I can’t wait to marry you” Harry said laying down beside her in their safe haven. Y/N smirked rolling over on her side. He was so beautiful. His eyes, his freckles, that one dimple that came out when he laughed. She was so lucky to call him hers.

“You just want to have me in your bed everyday” She said and harry pretended to think about. “Hmmm, yeah” He said, making Y/N laugh loudly before pecking his lips.

“Can’t believe you’re mine” Harry said pushing her into his chest. Y/N grinned pecking his neck and looking up at him.

“Forever”

#harry styles #prince!harry styles #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles requests

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spencersmagic · 3 years

Text

a knife twists at the thought - SR

Prompt: a knife twists at the thought that i should fall short of the mark - Arctic Monkeys

Summary: Spencer is new to this, and the poor boy is terrified

Couple: Fem! Reader x Spencer Reid (i picture season 2/3 Spencer but y’all do you)

Category: angst

Word count: 3086 words

Warnings: general criminal minds stuff, mentions and descriptions of torture, descriptions of loss, HAPPY ENDING!!, my 3am writing, tooth rotting love, uhmm spoilers for Orwell’s 1984 (if anybody hasn’t read it), humiliation, Spencer crying and breaking my heart (lmk if you need anything warned or trigger tagged).

A/N This is very loosely based on 2x15 (VERY LOOSELY). I’m quite proud of this one :)

masterlist // 505 series taglist

*****

They say you never see it coming.

When a tragedy occurs, and someone’s life is turned upside down forever, they never see it coming. It just... hits them. Like an oncoming car ramming into a bystander who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

No one has time to prepare. In our time-starved lives, there is no place for such a warning.

One day, you just wake up. And they’re not next to you. They’ve disappeared, leaving the stickiest, most unforgettable parts of themselves behind for others to grieve to: the smell of their shampoo in the pillows they used to share, the seconds just as you wake when you still feel like you have them - only to gain full consciousness and realise they left you behind - even the fucking jars, which never seem to be open because he’s just not there to do it.

And you feel your heart breaking all over again as your soul sticks to the parts that couldn’t be erased with the rest of him as he left. Because you needed him, you had him, and now he’s gone. No warning, no letter, no signs which could’ve helped you foresee such a tragedy, because how could he? He didn’t disappear on purpose.

She doesn’t understand why he's so absent. So unequivocally missing. And the person she would turn to to ask these riddled questions isn’t there to answer. Because he’s gone.

But they’re not there yet.

And she feels so close to that feeling - the helplessness, the pain, the empty cups next to her bed because he always carried them to the sink when she was finished with her tea the mornings of those rare days they got to sleep in. Those days when they had time. She can practically touch, with the tip of her fingertips, the waves of pain that would surge over her if he was gone for one more fucking minute.

She has to remind herself, over and over again, like a mantra. He’s not gone yet.

The ��yet” at the end of her mantra just breaks her all over again.

She was always the one to tell Spencer “if you worry before something happens, in case it goes wrong, and then it does, you’ve managed to suffer twice through something painful for absolutely no reason”. It usually worked. Needless to say, she felt like a hypocrite right about now.

Because Spencer is gone. And she doesn’t know how to bring him back.

She knows only to watch the monitor, never once blinking, taking in everything that happened in that damned livestream - every word, every sound, every reference. She can only try to hear anything over the whimpers and sobs her love was letting out as he’s tortured by that man. She can only hear the cracks of his knuckles against Spencers soft skin, the same soft skin she had kissed mere hours ago before telling him to “be careful”. Her own way of saying the three little words the couple was too young to hear. She can only see his lips parting, sobs rumbling out of his body as the unsub abuses his frame over and over again - same lips which had kissed her forehead before telling her “i always am”.

Then again, she isn’t sure if its his voice which is filling her head with painful sounds or if her mind is playing tricks on her, memorising the horrifying vibrations coming from his chest for her to ever consider anything else. She hasn’t stopped hearing him since she turned on that damned computer.

She isn’t sure she’ll ever stop hearing it.

As a man of great intellect, Spencer always recurred to knowledge to understand difficult occurrences in his life. Burying himself in textbooks, novels, poems, and even music to understand pain, and himself having a life filled with it, he was an incredibly knowledgeable man.

He knew much. But right now, he only knew one thing.

In Orwells’ 1984, as Winston was being tortured (much like Spencer is right now), Orwell described the following:

“Never, for any reason on earth, could you wish for an increase of pain. Of pain you could only wish one thing: that it should stop. Nothing in the world was so bad as physical pain. In the face of pain there are no heroes, no heroes”.

And, as a man who had acquired most of his intellect by immersing himself in trivial content in the face of pain, he found himself doing the same thing as the unsub hurt him over and over again, each blow seemingly more painful than the last. As his skin bruised, a causality of his abusers torment, he analysed the seemingly logical quote.

It must depend on the person, he was sure. In fact, a number of factors must be taken into consideration at this statement. For starters, Winston lives in a society incapable of any human feelings. There is only dominance, and those who attempt, in vain, to challenge it. Surely, if he had felt happiness, like the one you feel when the first day of spring rolls around, or like the one that creeps up on you as you look into the eyes of your loved one, surely, he would understand that some things can outweigh pain.

Love.

If Spencer’s mind could make sense of what he was feeling right now, he would understand, something he would figure of were he to leave this damned place, that he was thankful to the Gods, were there any, for having the unsub kidnap him and not Y/N.

Winston hadn’t understood emotional pain because emotions weren’t dealt with regularly. They were discouraged. That’s why he believed that there are no heroes in the face of pain. Because he doesn’t understand emotional pain.

He knew he was suffering. He also knew that Y/N was at the other side of the blinking camera suffering more than he could ever imagine.

They say emotional pain lasts 12 minutes. Anything one feels after this would be the aftermath of the cause of the pain in question. Pure emotional pain, the one you practically feel in your chest, the one that says “i can’t think, feel or be. not until this feeling dissipates”.

She had learned this from Spencer.

And she wished it were true. As she watched that damned monitor, she wished that all the venom the unsub was spewing at Spencer, all the verbal abuse, was long forgotten. She wished he could only feel the physical pain. Because the mind is incredibly stronger than the body - it could keep him awake, alive, for just enough time for the team to rescue him.

The entire team had huddled around the monitor around her. She was painfully aware that other people were seeing this. Which meant it wasn’t her imagination. It wasn’t another one of those damned dreams she would have when she slept a little too far away from Spencer’s touch.

They had only been together for two months, but his touch was all that could get her to fall asleep.

She jolted as the unsub landed another slap on Spencer’s cheek, swiftly grabbing his hair for him to look into the camera. He had a cut above his right cheek, just where she would kiss him in the mornings, and bruises all over his neck, jaw and left eye.

“Say hi to your team!” he mocked Spencer, chuckling darkly as he moved his almost lifeless body around for the team to watch in horror. Spencer let out a heartbreaking sob, feeling so vulnerable.

“Why don’t we make this interesting?” he jumped, as if he had gotten an idea. The unsub reached behind himself to grab a pistol, clicking off the magazine safety to put one bullet in one of the eight slots, leaving the other seven free. He pointed it at Spencer’s temple.

Her entire body shook the thought of seeing Spencer’s lifeless body, held up only by the ropes and that sick man’s grip around his curls. The same curls she grabbed as she kissed his face when she wanted his attention.

“I’m going to ask you some questions...” he said, voice dripping with sickening sweetness as he turned the roulette, “and if i don’t like your answer i’ll pull the trigger! Let God decide what I do with you. Sounds good?”. He wanted to humiliate Spencer.

However, Spencer made the mistake of not answering him. He was quickly reminded as the barrel of the gun pointed right between his eyes, pulling the trigger, a loud bang! sound expanding through the barn.

“I asked you a question!” he suddenly yelled into Spencer’s face.

“Y-yes, Sir” he whimpered, shaking at the ease at which the man pulled the trigger.

“Good, you’re learning”.

She experienced it by bits. Hotch’s hoarse voice. “Talk to me Garcia”. “We’ve got coordinates”. Everybody rushing to the SUVs. Tripping over her own feet on the way to the car. Morgan’s voice. The iPad, which still carried Spencer’s whimpers and the man mocking tone.

“I’ve got your diary, Spence” his sing-song voice didn’t match the disgusting man she was looking at. Nothing made sense.

“And I wanna know why...” he drew out the ‘y’ as he looked for something between the worn pages between his hands.

Of course she knew Spencer owned a diary. But she was mature enough to keep her hands to herself and her eyes on her own pages as he wrote on his, eyebrows creasing as he recalled all which he had experienced during the day. His face would twitch slightly at the memories, both good and bad, as he basically described his day word by word.

“...why did you wait until you were 24 to lose your virginity?” he asked in a clear attempt to humiliate and ridicule Spencer in front of his team.

“I-I didn't-” he could barely finish a word before a sob wrecking through his body at the humiliation, chest rumbling and voice wavering. “I didn’t want to lose it before, i w-wasn’t in a hurry” he rushed out. The man brought the pistol to his own chin, tapping it as he thought. “Hmm... I’m satisfied with your answer. Let’s dig deeper, shall we?” he asked as he went back into the pages.

“ooh! This one is new” that sick bastard was having fun with this, completely unaware that the team was less than 5 minutes away from their location.

“Care to read what you wrote three days ago? Right here” he turned the pages so Spencer could read them, though he was painfully aware of that entry he was talking about. His body shook violently. “P-please. D-don’t ma-make me do t-this” he whimpered, body feeling defeated.

“Wrong answer” the unsub said before pointing a gun at him and pulling the trigger.

A shriek was heard from the iPad. The SUV went silent.

“He’s alive” she whispered, unable to speak up. “He-” she swallowed. “He’s alive. We’re not there, yet” her mantra became a reminder that she hadn’t been quick enough to help him. She had the tools to save him. Every second she had the knowledge to save him and didn’t was another second she remained impotent at the risk of losing the love of her life.

Spencer’s voice spoke from the iPad.

“C-can you at-at leas-st turn off t-the ca-amera?” he said between sobs.

And it hit her.

What hurt him the most wasn’t the memories he had to relieve, but the fact that the rest of the team would have to hear his most intimate thoughts. His deepest secrets.

He could bare the pain. The humiliation? That broke him.

“Aww” the unsub chuckled mockingly, “are you embarrassed?” he said, slouching down to look into his eyes. “Well too fucking bad!” he screamed into his face, spitting with every word he spewed at him. Spencer’s sobs got louder.

“O-okay okay!” Spencer caved, accepting the journal that got shoved into his face.

“Read, pretty boy” the unsub sang. That son of a bitch was having fun.

“We’re two minutes away, Y/N” Hotch said. Maybe it was he sobs, which were barely audible to herself, having accepted them as second nature after all the heartbreak she was experiencing, but Hotch needed her to be okay.

His own heart thumped into his chest, feeling as helpless as he’d ever felt. Seeing a member of his team - someone he was supposed to take care of, someone he was supposed to keep safe - was sobbing as he was physically and emotionally tortured. But he was painfully aware of the feelings Y/N was experiencing. The sheer fear that was running down her veins at the idea of them running out of time.

After a few sobs, Spencer started reading, interrupting himself occasionally with his whimpers:

“It’s been three months. Today, three months, seven hours and forty-six minutes ago, she did what I didn’t have the courage to do. She asked me out. “I’ve been wanting to ask you pretty much since the day i met you” she had said. Those words keep ringing in my head like a beautifully written symphony, intrinsically designed to make me face my deepest fears. Opening my scars one by one, dissecting them and reaching the simple conclusion that i was a coward.

She didn’t say it, but what she meant was “i’ve been waiting for you to do it, but you never did, so i had to”. We wasted time - a time so precious and sacred - because i was a coward.

I’ve never felt like this before. I never understood a love so deep as to move something so stubborn as the human spirit. I’ve read textbook after textbook, and novel after novel, and still I’ve never learned more than with her. But I was a coward. And i wasted her time. I fear that I still am.

A knife twists at the thought that i should fall short of the mark. It’s impossible for me to ever be enough for her”.

Her heart broke at this confession. Even worse at the thought that he wouldn’t’ve told her, instead inhaling fear and exhaling rejection at every breath he took next to her.

“We’re here” she heard Hotch, looking at her. She grabbed a bottle of water and dropped the iPad, not hearing the teams objections at the lack of vest and preparation and ran into the barn.

She isn’t sure if she’ll ever stop hearing his whimpers. As she runs closer, she hears them louder and louder, decorated with sobs and cries, and small, meaningless replies to his abusers’ mocking words.

She kicked the door down, the loud bang booming across the room, only helping in raising Spencer’s sobs as he feared the sound had been the result of a certain trigger being pulled. As she looks at him, she realises just how much pain he’s been put through.

She remembers Orwells words, much like how Spencer had remembered them mere hours ago. And disagrees, wishing over and over, praying to the Gods that she would be the victim of such atrocious abuse. She wished she could take his pain. Morgan joined her at her side mere seconds later, yelling. “FBI! Put the gun down!”.

Spencer used the last bit of energy to lunge forward, hitting the unsubs stomach with his head, successfully getting him on the floor for Morgan to apprehend. Y/N rushed to Spencer’s side, untying him, as his now nonexistent sobs grew louder and louder, not only at the prospect of getting out of that horrible place alive, but also at the knowledge that Y/N had heard what he had so dreadfully recited.

Spencer collapsed into her arms, crying into her in the same way she was crying into him, and she wondered just how to take away all his pain. So they cried into each other, desperately grasping each others hair, skin, clothes, anything that would make them feel like they wouldn’t have to spend another damned second without the company of each other.

Spencer was the first to break the silence.

“I need-” he stopped, coughing. She reached for the bottle of water she had brought with her because she knew he would need it. She always knew what he needed.

He chugged it desperately, stray drops falling down his chin at his eagerness. He took a deep breath trying to steady his lungs.

“I need to get out of here” he choked out.

She grabbed him under the shoulders, careful not to hurt him - not being successful, realising that there wasn’t much of him the man hadn’t hurt. Y/N pulled him out, sitting down on the grass with him. Their legs intertwined, pulling each other impossibly closer. They kissed, over and over again. Not as an act of any sexual relevance, but as a reminder that they had each other in any way, shape or form. That they weren’t out of time.

The team was certain they would stay there, never letting each other go for another minute.

After what felt like seconds in their time-starved little world, she broke the silence, which had only been filled with their own cries and occasional sobs.

“Spence” she grabbed his chin to look into his eyes. They were dull, red and hooded. He was exhausted. “Mhmm?” he let out, looking into hers. She was his solace.

“How could you ever think you were anything but completely and unequivocally enough?” she whispered the words he dreaded.

But as Spencer looked into her eyes he knew, better than he had ever known anything, that he was enough. And she was enough. He realised that which she had known for the past three months (possibly longer). They fit like two marvellous puzzle pieces.

Her hands grabbed his cheeks slowly, as to not hurt or startle him, pulling his forehead into hers. “Baby, I can’t imagine anybody else waking up to me every morning. You’re so much more than enough”, she planted a small kiss on his forehead before resuming her position. “I’ll remind you every day of the rest of my life if that’s what it takes for you to believe it”.

And with their eyes closed, foreheads and noses pressed together and legs tangled between each other, pulling each other close, closer - around grass and voices and his abuser pressed into the hood of a police car, they only felt each other. With their shaky breaths, even shakier voices, fearing any words that would leave them in case they triggered a cascade of tears down their oh so vulnerable cheeks, they were more than enough.

***

I hope y’all liked it!! Feel free to let me know by liking, reblogging, or sending me a message :)

super cool kid taglist: @lady-anon-x @spencerreid-mgg @eoupe @inlovewithbabygirl @galaxydefenderjulia @username2002

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disasterlesbiansunite · 3 years

Text

Just Two Things: A Young Royals Fix-It Fic

His mama had stood over him as she began talking. Wilhelm could hardly focus; the vision of the video (his video, his and Simon’s video, the video of Simon) burned into his brain on a constant loop. She hadn't asked him if he was alright, not yet, but he had stopped expecting her to early on in life. Duty first, he guessed, as usual. She pulled away and off the bed, rattled off the words about the interview he’ll do to protect the royal family et cetera, et cetera.

“I don’t want you to see Simon for the time being,” she said, and he glanced up, suddenly feeling like his world is fell away underneath him. He wished Erik were here, that Erik was still alive. If he were, then maybe this would all go away. He doubted any of it could now.

August brought him dinner that night when he’s too exhausted to even leave his bed. He said that Erik would want Wille to be himself - but how is August so sure of what Erik would want him to do to fix this, to just get this whole shitshow over with, when the only person who knows that is six feet under.

“Follow your heart, really.” August said. “Follow your heart.”

If anything his heart only thought of two things at the moment. One is the crumpled up rage he feels that’s been broiling under his skin since he saw the video; the screaming, panicked wild thing that wants to shout at the world and watch it shouts back until no part of him remains, no crown prince, nothing.

The other part of his brain thought of Simon. Holding him, soft and warm until his skin, kissing his neck and inhaling as much of him as possible. Kissing him, kissing Simon, an exhilarating feeling he can’t describe, he won’t ever be able to describe. Almost all of the girls he had kissed had kissed gently and slowly, like they were afraid he would disappear right next to them. It always felt like he was being kissed by air, a ghostly possession that was over in a second and just as uncomfortable.

He would have thought that Simon would kiss like that, he had thought Simon would kiss like that, Simon had kissed like that, before they really truly got to know one another. Now, Simon kissed hard and rough, like he knew Wilhelm wouldn’t disappear but just as quick, aware he couldn’t have him by himself ever. Simon’s kiss had the edge of sandpaper, tough grit and fine smoothness rolled into one. Simon kissed for the sake of it, like there was so much he wanted to do to Wille, do with Wille, that he simply couldn’t function enough to do anything but kiss him. Wille fell asleep soon after that, dinner discarded. He wondered if the last time they would ever kiss would be the time that caused both of him to want to recoil from society and away from the world. A part of him hoped so.

The nail on his thumb was raw and bleeding.

As he walked through Hillerska, everyone stared at him in pity. He was used to the stares, used to the way his simple presence shut up people around until all they could do was give him a dumb look. It was pity that was new to him, but he tried not to focus on that as Malin rushed with him to his first class of the day. He knew the things they were saying, drove himself insane as he googled himself over and over again, watching Sweden’s trending page unravel until it felt like it was all over. He watched as Simon walked into their classroom, turning heads for once in his life. Once except for the amount of times he had his, of course. He mindlessly made small talk with his classmate, but all he could think of were two things.

After class he rushed into the locker room to talk to Simon. He looked sullen, his features that were generally framed in a light source of their own were moody and dark, an awkward, ill fitting portrait. He wanted to kiss it all away. Instead, kicked at Simon’s foot, hooking the two into a game of footsie.

“What the hell are we going to do?” Simon asked, wrapping his hands around Wilhelm’s, as if he had any of the answers. Breaking news, he didn’t. All he could do was sit in silence and hold Simon, it felt like the only thing he could do. Unless…

“They’ve asked me to deny it was me in that video.” He could barely get the words out.

“Serious?”

Wille hummed, unable to interpret that reaction. “They want me to make a statement at the castle on Saturday.”

Simon turned, his head moving off of Wille's shoulder in a way that feels entirely unwelcome. Put that back please. Wille had realized that he could only really function anymore in Simon’s arms. As if he wasn’t touch starved enough, but Simon was hot and didn’t mind so it didn’t really matter. “But you’re not going to do it, right?”

“I don’t want to say anything.” Simon doesn’t get it, but Wilhelm doesn’t expect him too; too impossible to explain.

“But, Wille, everyone can see that it’s me in that video,” Wille groaned. He had forgotten that slightly important detail. Simon continued, “What am I supposed to do? But no matter what, they can’t dictate what you say,” Yes, they absolutely can, they’ve done it before.

We haven’t done anything wrong.” He had forgotten that too, spending so much time yesterday going over consequences and contingencies ranging from plan A to Z it made his head bled. But no one had actually told him that they hadn’t done anything wrong. Not even August, with his love is love attitude that came out of nowhere. Not even fucking him.

Mama had been waiting for him. Mama had met Simon. She never looked twice at Wilhelm, veiled disdain souring her mouth as she stared out the window.

“What? Why can’t I just have a relationship with him? And not say anything. Just live a normal life.” He knows why. He just wants to hear her say it.

“You’re the crown prince.” And there’s the world crashing back down onto him. “And that’s a privilege, not a punishment.” It’s both actually, but whatever, mama.

“Yes, but I didn’t ask for this!” Erik should be here. Erik would know what to do.

“Well, nobody has ever, ever asked for this,” his mama shot back. He feels like a little kid again, feels like biting his thumb raw. “You’re the only one who can take over the throne after Erik. Don’t you understand that?” He wished she would just look at him.

“You’re so young. When you’re young love feels like the most important thing in the world. When I was your age, I too had an unfortunate romance.” He wants to laugh or cry or release that panicked, clawed, anxious feeling that’s always been trapped underneath his chest, beating his heart faster and faster and faster. Unfortunate romance, she said, like Simon isn’t the best thing to happen to him, like Simon wasn’t the only one holding him together, like Simon wasn’t the only real thing in his world.

He snapped back into the conversation.“Is it worth it,” she continued. “If you feel that the attention you’ve been getting so far is unacceptable, it’s nothing compared to what you will endure for the rest of your life. We have a chance to cover this up. I urge you to take this chance. You may not get another.”

With Simon on one shoulder, and his mama and the world on the other, it turns out he was going to make the statement after all. Fucking great.

He felt like throwing up, but, to be fair, when hasn’t he.

“Are you ready?” His mama asked, like he could ever be ready to announce to the world, no that definitely was not me in that tape and that boy is definitely not the love of my life, thank you very much.

He dragged his feet, as he went into the room where Rosenqvists sits. Like Mama said, they only have one chance to not fuck this up.

Rosenqvist smiles at Wilhelm, her eyes hawkish. He musters as much of a smile as he can, playing with the buttons on his suit as the photographer directs the two around.

“It’s good to see you again, your highness.”

His eyes darted around the room. He could hear his mama and papa argue in the room they were in

“You too.”

The interview began then, menial questions about his existence that made him want to bite at his thumb. He resisted, knew that if Rosenqvist saw how his anxiety was surging through him like a freight train and mentioned it in her interview, his mama would be more angry then she already was. The questions are simple really, he barely thought about the answers and more about how Erik would have phrased them. Not like Erik would have been in this situation.

“So, Wilhelm, we both know why we’re here.” She smiled apologetically at him. Here we go. “As you are, no doubt, aware of by now there was a video from Hillerska that is going viral of what is rumored to be yourself and another male student,” she paused for a moment, uncomfortable with the what she’s about to say to a boy she’d been interviewing for most of his life, “being intimate. What do you have to say about these rumors, Crown Prince Wilhelm?” She’s less probing, then. He can tell his mom already prepped her on how exactly this interview needed to go. Fuck.

“That’s not-” his words got stuck in his throat.

“That’s not you in the video?” She filled, looking more and more saddened with each word, more maternal that he thinks he’s seen anyone in his entire life. He wanted to nod, wanted to do what his mama wanted for him, wanted to listen to what she feels is best for their country, because it is theirs now, isn’t it? Erik is dead and gone and never coming back no matter how much Wilhelm wishes he had been able to keep him alive. Wilhelm doesn’t exactly know much about what it takes to be king, not like Erik did, but he’s pretty sure a leaked tape is one thing a king is not supposed to have on his record. Wilhelm should want to deny the rumors, so why does it feel like every time he tries to open his mouth that it’s filled with cotton, that panicked wild thing grabbing hold of his brain and shaking it like his snowglobe. It’s begging him to choose the path of least resistance. And then there was Simon. Simon with his pretty soft voice and his even softer lips. Simon with his kind eyes and hands and just Simon, Simon, Simon. Simon, who has already been broken by the video and if Wilhelm denies their relationship then he’ll only break more. The only things he can think about. Just two things. Two things he can’t seem to choose between.

He took a deep breath. Erik would have wanted him to follow his heart, would have said that that would be how he becomes a great king. By being kind and good, and wholly himself.

He chose.

Simon’s mama shouts for a rematch as he laughed into his snack.

Ayub tensed next to him, “Oh, shit.”

“What’s up?” Simon asked, confused. Did his dad ask him to go home or something?

Instead, Ayub read from his phone: an online copy of this week’s Göteborgs-Posten screenshotted and reposted to Twitter. “The Crown Prince addresses rumors of Viral Video.”

“What?” He could have sworn Willie had said he wouldn’t do the interview. His mom and Sara exchange glances.

Ayub read on, “While the Royal Court denies rumors that the Crown Prince appears in the video that has gone viral this past week, his royal highness Prince Wilhelm goes more in depth on his time at Hillerska and the events surrounding the video. He says, ‘I started at Hillerska to focus on my studies and have kept to that.’ At this moment, the prince pauses and grows quiet.

‘That’s not the entire truth. The truth is that that is me in the video. I do not know who took it or why but the facts remain the same. There are many people who would want me to not address the rumors surrounding me at this time, and some even would want me to outright deny them, but I disagree. If I am to be king, and no matter what happens from this I will be king, I want to be the kind of king the people can be proud of, the kind of king my brother would have been, and the kind of king that if he saw me he’d be proud of. And that starts by being genuine and being myself to the citizens of Sweden and to the world.’ ‘Everyone should be allowed to live as gay or straight or whatever they want,’ says the Crown Prince. ‘And I suppose the former includes me, but I would still like this time to decide further who I am and what kind of king I will be.’”

Simon is stunned. Of all things, he didn’t think of this as even an option. He fishes his phone out of his pocket.

To Wille: just read the interview, what. the. fuck.

From Wille: Is that a good “what. the. fuck!!!” or a “bad what. the. fuck?!?”

To Wille: you’re so brave, wille, thank you

To Wille: also according to ayub youre trending as “gay king wilhelm” on twitter rn

From Wille: Fuck yeah, bow down to your king. Meet me before school starts tomorrow, courtyard?

To Wille: see you then, gay king willie

As Simon approached the school - having already been stopped by four journalists, three photographers, two nosy neighbors and one blogger - he could see as Wille nervously paced at the edge of the courtyard, his hand rubbed deep into his chest, shirt creasing around it. Simon couldn't even begin to imagine what had happened in the palace after Wille’s interview. From what he saw the queen didn’t really strike him as the accepting type, but that was one of those things he’d let Wille discuss on his own time. He snuck up behind Wille instead, held his arms and kissed his neck.

“Hello, my prince,” he said and twirled Wille around and into his arms. Wille let out a little sigh of relief and if he could have held Willie there for forever he would. Wille smiles at him and kisses him on the cheek.

“Can we just go one day Simon without having your weird relationship issues making a scene,” Sara huffed past and quickened her pace to the school. Simon hadn’t noticed the stares, it felt like everyone in the courtyard had been watching them from Felice to August to other boarders Simon couldn’t name, but that had definitely called him names. Simon can’t bring himself to care anymore.

“I’m so proud of you, Wille.” Wilhelm let out a little noise, the only amount of negative emotion that being schooled on refinement since before he could talk would allow. He grabbed at Simon’s coat and drew him in for a hug.

“I love you,” Wille said and suddenly Simon’s whole world had shrunk down to three words.

Wille quickly ended the hug and walked towards the school, his bodyguards following quick after. Simon speed walked up to him and grabbed his hand, “I love you too.” Wille broke out into that tiny golden smile Simon loved to tease out and grabbed Simon’s hand.

The stares followed but Simon didn’t care. “Just two things left,” he said, “Get through this last day before break and then find whoever took that video.”

“And then?”

“I haven’t gotten that far yet,”

Wille hummed and played with Simon’s as they settled at the doorway of their first class of the day, “You might want to work on your plans.”

“No, my plan only needs those two things.” Simon messied with Wilhelm’s hair and strolled into the classroom.

Wille followed after one hand fixing his hair, the other clutching at Simon’s hand, muttering, “Just two things?”

Just two things.

#if this is bad im sorry #young royals netflix #young royals #wilhelm x simon #fic writing #yes they are my comfort characters #after like two days #character study #myownfics

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may-b-a-u-shewritestoo · 3 years

Text

The Feeling Is Mutual | | Part 2 | | Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

PART 1

Summary; You’re both profilers, analysing behaviour and making connections. So why is it so hard to read each other?

Includes; injury to main characters, talk of injury, talk of violence, talk of unsub and weapons, talk of being drugged, sickening amount of fluff, mutual masturbation, (MINORS DNI 18+)talk of sex, dirty talk, no dynamic!, and a bit more fluff :)

Word count; 3.6K

Plans had changed and you were not happy about it. The pattern in victimology had shown that the unsub targeted men who were uncomfortable in social settings. Vulnerable type. Derek, being the giant intimidating boulder of a man he was, wouldn’t have attracted the unsub.

So they were sending in Spencer. Everybody including you knew he would fit the description required for this unsub; but the thought of him being touched or hurt or flirted with by somebody that wasn’t you brought a nauseating heavy feeling in your stomach.

“What’s wrong? You’ve had a permanent frown on your face since we started this morning.”

Spencer could feel the mood thickening in the air of the hotel room as he turned to face you.

He was trying to straighten his tie, completely oblivious to the way you stared at him with a mix you could only describe as anger-lust-fear. You didn’t want to even think about how he would react to you telling him the real reason you were upset so you just sighed and shook your head.

“I just hate last minute changes. I thought we were gonna hang back, let Derek do his ‘thing’ and she’d walk out gripping his unnaturally large bicep.” You twiddled with your fingers as you mumbled an excuse to get Spencer off your back.

“What’s wrong with her walking out on my unnaturally small bicep?” he laughed, trying to lighten the mood. You rolled your eyes, forcing them away from staring at his arms and imagining yourself gripping them in a different situation.

*********************

It was nauseating. The way her fingernails slowly dragged along his forearm, and slipped a little underneath the rolled sleeve. Her stupid voice pitching higher to seem more cute and innocent. He really did fit the part, swallowing thickly and stumbling over his words when she leaned forward a little and exposed her chest a little more.

“Have you ever felt like your body was on fire?” she asked, face now mere inches away from his. Spencer looked over at the security camera that he knew could see them both.

“That’s it. That’s the line. Stand by Y/N, Morgan.” Hotch warned, watching the footage over the nervous shoulders of Garcia.

A young tech student from a local college had been extremely fortunate in escaping the unsub the early hours of this morning. He’d shakily mumbled about her saying about being on fire and then chugging back a pint of straight gin. He asked if she needed help and she’d told him her car was outside if he wouldn’t mind helping her get home.

But as he went to open the driver side door to get in, he noticed her giggling to herself and a gun sitting on her lap. So he ran.

Hotch was worried that his escape would either mess up the trap tonight, or completely change her M.O and she would devolve, leaving you all at another starting point. But luckily for you all, she only had one technique, and was set on using it; so here you all were.

As you stood with your back against the wall, you peeked your head ever so slightly around the bar doors; the small circular window showing the back of her head and Spencer in full view.

“God, she’s making me feel sick. Why is she so touchy? I thought she would’ve dragged him out of here by now.” Whispering with a malicious tone to your voice, Derek chucked quietly at your rage.

“Jealous? Pretty Boy’s getting some attention from a serial killer and you’re jealous?”

“I’m not jealous Morgan. I’m disgusted.” sighing, you rolled your eyes.

“Y/N you know it’s my job. I’m not stupid. Anyone can see you’re completely and utterly-“

“Shut up.”

“Y/N you can change the subject all you like, everybody kno-“

“Derek, they’re gone.”

You had no visual. You couldn’t see her, nor Spencer. Not even an inch of her hair flicking into a different direction, not even a corner of Spencer’s jacket.

“Hotch?” Morgan spoke with a warning inflection into his smart watch.

Scanning the footage for where they could’ve possibly gone, Hotch hurriedly put on his Kevlar and gun before jumping out to head round the back of the bar.

“Guys, I have a visual on Reid. He’s out cold up on the V.I.P balcony. I can’t seem to find-”

Peeking again through the bar window, you didn’t have time to register what Penelope was saying nor what was happening before you felt a dull pain throb through your face. Stumbling backwards and trying to keep your balance, you noticed a warm and fuzzy feeling buzzing across your body before everything went black.

***************

“Can you just shut up and pass me a spoon? I’m not kidding anymore.”

“Get it yourself. You don’t wanna listen to me, why should I listen to you?”

“You’re an asshole Derek. Just so you know. I’ve eaten Jello with a straw before, and I’ll do it again.”

“Boys, will you shut up, her eyes just moved.”

Muffled voices stirred you to consciousness as you struggled to open your eyes. Immediately sending a sharp pain to your head, the lights felt like lasers as you tried to make sense of where you were.

“Jesus H Christ, why are the lights so damn bright?”

“There she is. Good morning pretty girl.” The sweet sounds of Miss Garcia swam through your ears, and her perfume overwhelmed your senses as she leant down to kiss your cheek. “I bought you a cupcake, and I’ve made sure these two don’t touch it.”

Squinting at the two men sitting on the empty hospital bed next to yours, you laughed at the two of them. They were acting like children.

Derek had a plastic spoon in his hand, holding and waving it as far away from Spencer as he possibly could. Spencer sat cross legged, arms folded but with a sealed cup of orange jello in one hand; tutting at Derek with disappointment.

“Would anybody like to update and inform me on why on earth Penelope is babysitting us in a hospital ward?” you asked, attempting to sit up a little bit, and groaning out at how much your body ached.

Spencer almost stood up when you grimaced in pain, but stayed seated as not to look too bothered.

“We caught the unsub,” Derek began to explain, Penelope giggling when you did a silent ‘yay’ and mini jazz hands, “but she roofied Reid, which was new and discovered his badge in his jacket.” He looked over at Reid with a sarcastic look, to which he was met with shrugged shoulders and Spencer digging into his jello.

“As she came back down the stairs to make her escape, she noticed you and Derek arguing or whatever that was outside the bar doors, and snuck into the crowd to watch you. When you tried to find her, I just saw her coming towards the doors but she moved hella fast.” Penelope explained, sipping from a bright pink tumbler.

“She kicked the door that you were stood behind, and then basically jumped you until you were unconscious, but didn’t quite realise I was there. So I got her. Pretty Boy here woke up a few hours ago just hungry.”

Spencer looked up at Derek and smiled, letting everyone know he was too invested in the jello to retaliate to his sarcasm. He glimpsed over at you and smiled in a different way, which Penelope caught on to immediately.

“Anyway! The doctor said you have a lot of bruised ribs but other than that you are good to go home today! Did you want me to stay over at yours? I can bring more cupcakes?” She asked sweetly, passing you the sprinkle covered cupcake and unwrapping it for you.

She was the equivalent of a big sister and a mom to you; always looking out for you, making sure you’d eaten but also joining in on gossip and hosting alcoholic themed sleepovers. She knew about yours and Spencer’s hookups, after the one time you were accidentally too loud in the hotel room next to hers.

You’d been sat on a swivel chair in her office, begging and pleading and bribing with sweet treats and baked goods for her not to tell a soul and as far as you were aware, she stuck to her promise. With a dramatic mime of locking her lips shut, she had grabbed a croissant from your hands and turned back to her computer.

“I could - sorry - I could stay over if you’d prefer Y/N? I know we’ve got a few episodes of Black Mirror to catch up on?” Spencer jumped at the chance to interrupt, correcting himself as his volume came out louder than planned.

Nodding quickly with a huge beaming smile and a mouth full of cupcake, you could feel yourself internally healing already.

“I’d like that. If that’s okay Pen? I’ve tried to explain to him that you can’t ‘catch up’ on Black Mirror but he won’t have it.” You carried on enjoying the sugary treat, as Spencer carried on eating his; ignoring the blatant smirks being swapped between Derek and Penelope.

*****************

As far as you were concerned the past weekend had gone way too quickly. Coming home from hospital on Thursday evening, Spencer had stayed over and still hadn’t left.

It was just about Sunday morning, and you’d both passed out after playing cards until 3am. He’d kept you so busy and your brain occupied you’d barely had time to think about your body aching and healing. He made you laugh so hard at times you were tempted to call the emergency room back to see if they could check you in again.

You guys hadn’t kissed or barely touched except to cuddle on the couch; even then Spencer was hesitant because he was convinced he’d do more damage. But it wasn’t the aches and pains that was getting to you. It was the way you felt starved of touch and affection.

Usually you both would be particularly in the mood, would call one another up and you’d both satiate each other’s needs before maybe having a cuddle and leaving.

In all fairness, the last time you felt him was only yesterday morning when he came to give you some tea in bed. He’d sat beside you - very gently - drinking his own sugar and coffee; hand holding onto your thigh and stroking lightly. It was all too sweet. Sweeter than the concoction he made to drink every morning.

But now you’d woken up only a few hours after going to sleep, the room still a shade of blue and gray. Sunrise was on its way, but night was still present, no birdsong could be heard; but the soft hums of Spencer Reid sleeping filled the air.

You knew that Hotch had given the both of you time off, you had nowhere to be for 2 more days. You wanted oh so desperately to shake him awake, jump his bones and go several rounds until you were due in, but not only could your body not physically take it; your heart couldn’t either.

Something felt different. Unrecognised, the feeling of wanting something else flooded your thoughts. Did you want to be fucked? Did you want to lay in Spencer’s arms for the entire day and be held? Or did you want both?

The way he’d smiled over at you when you woke up in hospital made you feel like you’d driven over a speed bump, your tummy swirling around and doing backflips. How he’d stayed with you after, how he’d looked after you and listened to you this whole time.

Unbeknownst to you however, while you were deep in thought about whatever this weird feeling was; Spencer had blinked his eyes open, rested his head in one of his hands and was watching you.

“What’re you thinking about?”

You jumped, grimacing as you stretched out a rib that you definitely shouldn’t have stretched out. “I’m currently thinking about how much that hurt, how much I hate you and how much I’m going to regret being awake later.”

Spencer laughed, a slight husk from tiredness layered into it. He brought his opposite hand up and stroked up and down your spine, noticing how goosebumps formed underneath his fingertips.

“You cold?”

“No.”

“Come here.”

Slowly laying back down, you groaned out in a mixture of uncomfortableness and relief as you got back into the warm spot next to Reid. Looking over at him made you feel giddy, the way you would feel getting ready for a date or a big event. You were nervous. But why?

“What’s going on in that pretty head of yours Y/N?” he asked sweetly, fingers coming up to stroke your cheek. He quickly withdrew them and cleared his throat, laying back down completely parallel beside you.

“Spencer, are you tired right now?”

“No. Are you?” He shuffled onto his side again.

“No. Quite the opposite.” with slight struggle, you mirrored his position, laying on your side and looking into his eyes with a lazy smile.

“Y/N, I can’t, you’re struggling to even lay down let alone-“

“No Spencer, I’m not hinting at sex. Although the millisecond I can, I will.” you laughed out, edging slightly closer to him. His breath hitched, and he shuffled awkwardly.

“What do you want?”

“I want to feel good Spence,”

“I thought you just said-“

“I want to feel good. So, I’m going to make myself feel good.” Your voice dropped a little, hoping that Spencer would catch on to what you were implying. Sometimes he could catch your drift, other times you would have to spell it out for him. Luckily for you, it was the former.

He nodded, waiting for you to make the next move. Watching you with intent, he began taking in each tiny detail of you.

The way you kept your eyes on his but let your hand trail down your body. The sigh of relief and arousal as you shuffled a little closer to him again, before laying on your back slowly and getting ready and comfortable. You let out a deep exhale while trailing your other hand over your chest, squeezing ever so lightly.

“Fuck Y/N. You’re really gonna do it? What if you hurt, the doctor recommended not strain-“

“Spencer, stop. I know my limits. I also know that if I don’t make myself cum soon I might actually spontaneously combust.”

He chuckled at your silliness, before remembering something. “There’s actually been less than 150 cases of spontaneous combustion recorded in almost 2000 years, so I doubt that your heightened state of arousal could cause you-“

“Spencer Reid, if you don’t shut up and kiss me right now I will make sure I’m the 150th case.”

He giggled and leant down to your lips, holding your face with one hand and holding himself up with the other arm. Pressing gently against your lips as if you were made of glass, he smiled against you; letting out a small moan as you reached up and pulled him closer into the kiss.

Your fingers circling over your clit through your panties caused you to wind your hips up against your hand gently, remembering not to overdo it. Moaning out quietly as you applied more pressure, Spencer pulled back to watch you.

“You look so beautiful Y/N.” He whispered, eyes darting between your face concentrated with pleasure and your hands roaming around your body.

He could feel himself growing and stiffening underneath his pyjama pants when you whimpered in response, and he bucked instinctively as the material grew tighter.

“Do you wanna touch yourself too Spence?” you mumbled out, movements staying the same speed but your head turning to watch him,“Touch yourself with me, feel what I’m feeling.”

“Yes, please.” Spencer laid down beside you again, his arm touching yours. Gripping himself through his pants he hissed out at the sudden contact.

Leaning your head against his shoulder, you watched to see what his next move would be; waiting to mirror him. He caught on to you copying his movements as he slipped his hands underneath his pants, a mix of a chuckle and a moan falling from his lips as you did the same.

“God this is so sexy..” Spencer moaned out louder this time, as he grasped his cock fully in his palm. Mimicking his actions, you also became a little louder; the feeling of skin touching skin becoming more and more intense.

“Tell me something Spence.” you spoke breathily, fingers applying more pressure to your clit and switching to dip inside yourself.

Curling his wrist with every sharp tug and squeezing the head of his cock every time he reached the top, all he could do was try to take deep breaths where he held them for so long.

“I thought about you. When she flirted with me.”

You wanted to pause, wondering why he brought up an unsub in the middle of such an intimate moment. But his next words only brought you closer to your brink.

“When I looked over her shoulder and saw you watching, saw the anger in your eyes. You looked so fucking mad baby. I couldn’t figure out why, but I liked it. When she touched me, I wished it was your hands. I thought about you the whole time, fuck.” Spencer squeezed his eyes shut, trying to not look at you in order to keep calm and patient with his orgasm.

“Yeah? Wished it was me leaning over you like that?” You could barely string a sentence together with how good you felt, your thighs clenching together around your wrist, your hips bucking up as much as your body allowed them to.

“Mhmm. Thought about taking you home, bending you over my couch with your uniform still on.”

“Fuck Spence. She made me so jealous, I wanted to go in there and rip her off of you. Would’ve made you mine right there at the bar.”

He hissed and groaned out, speeding up even more, matching the pace you had set yourself; aiming to finish with you.

“Fuck. I’m all yours Y/N, this cock is all fucking yours.” He was so close, throbbing and thrusting into his fist, pulling his head back so he could watch your face.

Hearing him say he was yours dragged you to the edge of your orgasm, thighs beginning to shake a little. Your wrist was growing tired but you refused to stop, too caught up in the gradually increasing pleasure.

“I’m so close honey, please,” you pulled your gaze away from where he stroked himself to meet his eyes, wanting to watch his face as he toppled over the edge too, “please tell me I can come, I wanna come for you.”

You grew needy, ignoring the ache in your torso as you writhed against your fingers, your head falling back as you felt the waves coming. Spencer watched as you slowly began to fall and crash into it.

Tugging at himself with the same speed as you, he quickly moved onto his side a little to watch you better. Pressing his lips to your neck, he bit down gently before whispering the words you needed.

“Let it go for me Y/N, you can come. Come for me,” As you slipped under the waves and felt like you were drowning in the numb yet intense pulsation, Spencer coaxed you through it as he too got carried away by his own throbbing, “that’s it baby, fuck I’m coming, oh my go-, ah fuck it feels so good.”

Spencer became quickly overwhelmed by his orgasm, rolling onto his back again as he carried on spilling onto his stomach. Continuing to slowly rub yourself, you came down from your crescendo and watched as he worked himself through his.

“Fuck Spencer, there’s so much.” Leaving little kisses along his shoulder, you giggled sweetly as he tensed with the aftershocks and tried to catch his breath. He grinned with a post-orgasm smile and turned his head to nestle against the top of yours.

“Are you okay?” Spencer murmured into your hair, leaving a little kiss on the crown of your head. Simply nodding against his shoulder, you attempted to shuffle closer but forgot how tense your body had been in its peak.

“Fuck. Can you help me?” Giggling and wincing at the same time as an attempt to sit up. Spencer laughed at you sweetly, sitting himself up quickly and snaking an arm underneath your back.

Pulling you up smoothly, he left a light kiss against your temple before slipping his other arm underneath your legs and hoisting you up.

“Wait, where are we going?” You whined out, wrapping your arms around his neck and shoulders. He walked the two of you into the en-suite and set you down gently on the counter.

“I am going to get us cleaned up,” he smiled at you before getting a washcloth ready, “and then we’re going to talk about us.”

He began to wipe the washcloth across his chest and his stomach, looking up curiously when you asked, “Us?”

“Wait. What you said about- when you said that thing about making me yours? Did I completely misread that? Because I feel- I thought it was obvious that I felt-“ He stumbled, self consciousness creeping in slowly as he realised he may have taken it too far.

But you smiled softly, grabbing the cloth from his hands and pulling him to rest between your legs. At least he’d cleared the air for you. You didn’t feel remotely nervous anymore.

Cupping his face in your hands and stroking along his jaw with each thumb, you pulled him in for a delicate kiss. Grinning against his lips, he returned the motion and kissed you once more.

“The feeling is mutual, Spencer.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #criminal minds #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #tfim #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fic

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stucky-starnes · 3 years

Text

Gleam and Glow

Chapter 1

Pairing: Grey! Bucky Barnes x Fem! Reader

Word count: 3,374

Description: The reader has been held captive by their own mother their whole life, taught to believe the world is bad and that they need to be protected from it. That their gift needs to be protected from it. They possess 70 feet of hair with healing properties and some people will do anything for a chance at peace.

General Warnings: This story contains dark elements and various dark characters!! Do not read if this makes you uncomfortable!!!, kidnapping, violence, language, angst, whump, for the purposes of the story the reader has 70ft foot long hair that glows gold- this does not change regardless of hair color or texture, inspired by the movie Tangled.

Chapter Warnings: kidnapping, manhandling, betrayal, mention of trafficking (selling/buying of a human), John Walker, very naive reader, brief sexual implications,arguments, un-gendered pet names,choking, illusion to sexual harassment, language, please read at your own discretion.

DO NOT REPOST MY WORK, REBLOGS ARE WELCOME AND APPRECIATED

A majority of your childhood was peaceful. You got to do all the normal kid things- of course you were never totally sure what a ‘normal’ kid thing was on account of the fact that you’d actually never met another kid but, it felt normal enough. Aside from the very abnormal ‘birth defect’ you were ‘gifted’ with. You stopped considering your magical abilities as a gift by the time you were seventeen, when your mother made it abundantly clear that you could never leave the tower, you could never go outside, and you could never cut your hair.

The only thing more annoying than the seventy foot long tresses was your mother. According to her, your father was a sloppy one night stand she found in a tavern. He was a love em’ and leave em’ type of guy; he gave your mother one great romantic night and then disappeared off the face of the earth. You’ve never met him. You’ve never met anybody. Your mother has always been your only companion. She was a beautiful woman, she said you take after her more than your dad. While she was gorgeous and protective, she was also passive aggressive, rash, and ostentatious. If it was possible for her to get out of being “the bad guy” she lunged, dragging you under at the first chance. When you were younger she would tell you stories about the outside, she made it seem like a gorgeous place. She described the kingdom and the many villages outside its walls. She started with all the good things until you showed interest in escaping, then, she gave you the truth. She began to spin tales of roads rich with crime, vigilante gangs, covert groups of thugs, and rebel Viking camps. From what you could piece together, the rebel Viking camps were the greatest concern.

The rebel Viking groups weren’t actually Vikings. Your mother had said they called them The Vikings because of their rugged and brutal lifestyle. The camp they occupy is more like a small village, the structures following Norse architectural style, chalk-full of criminals and runaways. Runaways. Your mother had always explained to you that when young girls ran away from their mothers they ended up in that village living a life of crime. The very thought of falling into the wrong hands has kept you from sneaking out or from begging to leave the tower. You found ways to be content, ways to keep busy.

The tower wasn’t as big as it looked from the outside, the only living space was at the very top of the tower. The top of the tower had about two floors worth of open space, minimal and organized in the lower level and very maximalist in the bedrooms and wall decor. Mother said the rest of the tower below was sturdy white brick and vine, aged by time and the weather. Most of the exterior bricks were cracked or crumbling, so all the support for the turret came from the tower’s solid core. The roof was a chipped and rusty blue color mostly concealed by untamed ivy growth, which also hid the entrance to the tower’s turret. To your home. The only way in and out of the tower was an intricate pulley system made from twisted vine and rope. Originally, mother had used your hair to get into the turret, until one day a strand snapped from the pressure, dying and losing its magic. In an effort to protect your gift, you helped your mother make the pulley.

Crafting things was just one of the many ways you spent your time in the tower. After you’d turned eighteen your mother didn’t stick around much, if at all, leaving at night to go to the palace or the tavern, sometimes coming back in the morning and sometimes being gone for a day or two. With so much time alone the only option was to learn how to entertain yourself. Reading books, cooking, painting, testing the information you soaked up from all of the books, sewing holes in clothes, polishing leather, polishing silver, dusting, drawing in the dust. It’s a really long list. If there’s more to add you add it, forever stretching the possibilities. As the sun started to go down however, it started to seep in just how repetitive and predictable your daily activities had become. While you knew leaving the tower would be a horrible and dangerous mistake, you couldn’t help but long to be outside. To feel the grass between your fingers or to stand out in the sun, somewhere other than where it leaks through the turrets window entrance. It could never happen. Knowing this was an impossibility kept an icy grip on your stomach, a lonely sort of feeling, naturally touch starved by fate. It’s been years since the last time you asked to leave. Much before you knew how dangerous it really was out there. Asking one more time couldn’t really hurt could it? You’d be twenty soon enough, just one touch wouldn’t hurt anyone.

Mother had left early in the morning, off to do some much needed grocery shopping; if she hadn’t decided to stop by the tavern she would be home very soon. Too soon to come up with a better plan. Quickly you started to prepare for her to come home, sweeping the dining area and pulling out the utensils needed to make a special stew recipe you remember she had enjoyed. If she was going to say yes she needed to be buttered up first. Once the cooking utensils were nicely organized on or beside the unlit stove, and the dust was done away with, it was time to make quick work of anything she could use against your argument. Rushing to one of your most treasured bookshelves you pulled a discarded velvet scrap from the back of one of your more worn astronomy books. The midnight blue fabric had been torn from one of your favorite dresses when you were sixteen, unwilling to part with the shredded material, it was quickly fashioned into a long braided bookmark. Since then you’ve opted for shorter than floor length gowns or comfortable riding pants and tunics. The supposedly “masculine” style annoyed mother to no end but then again she really couldn’t understand how suffocating the corsets could become, or how difficult it was to fasten them without getting hair caught beneath the strings.

Unbraiding the bookmark allowed it to become one long thick strand, setting it on the dining table, you went to gather your hair. For the most part, you tried to keep it close to yourself. Getting any part snagged or wrapped around something was more of a pain in the ass than taking the time to gather it together. Gathering so much hair was difficult, it took time and it was unbelievably heavy. Once you were finally able to get it all in one place you started the tedious task of braiding. In order to braid it up enough to keep it off the floor you split it into three sections, braiding those separately before braiding them up into a complex Dutch braid. It took nearly two hours to finish so you could finally tie up the end with the dismantled bookmark. The complexity allowed the braid to settle halfway down your calves, keeping it neat and off the ground. Now all that was left to do was light the lanterns around the room and wait. Waiting for mother to get home was nerve wracking, if possible you’d busy yourself with starting the stew but you were fresh out of the most important ingredients.

“Y/n let down the vine!” Mother yelled from the bottom of the tower and the tension finally broke.

“Coming!” You sighed out in relief rushing to the window and lowering out the vine life you had made.

Once you were sure she was safely in the lift’s sling, you utilized the pulley system to begin pulling her up. The tower was around forty feet tall, making the trip up lengthy and difficult. When she was close enough to the window entrance you hooked the vine slack onto the wall hook, keeping it stationary, before quickly coming to help her in with the groceries. Taking the canvas grocery bags from her arms and into the kitchen, you started pulling out the items to take inventory on what she’d bought at the market.

“How was the market? Did that man give you trouble on the celery prices again?”

“Ugh doesn’t he always? Absolutely exhausting, he wanted double, and then there was a fight at the tavern again which I always have to break up.” She pulled out a chair at the dining table, sitting into it and slinging her feet up into the neighboring chair.

You slowed for a moment, pulling the bundle of carrots from the bag slower as you processed that she may be intoxicated which meant there’d be zero chance of having the conversation you desperately desired.

“You went to the tavern?” You asked, feigning excitement.

“Of course sweetheart, I promised that I would but I wasn’t there for long I promise.” She got up to meet you in the kitchen, resting her hands on your shoulders.

“Now what are we having? I’m absolutely starved.” She smiled.

“I was going to make that stew from last winter that you liked so much. Now that fall is settling in.” you started to add broth and small peeled potatoes to the pot.

“That sounds delightful darling, I’m going to go rest my eyes, call me when it’s done?” Mother started to walk away. It was now or never.

“Actually!” You cleared your throat., “Actually I was hoping I could talk to you about something.”

“Alright but let’s make this quick, mama’s feet are aching.” She turned back around to sit in another chair.

“Well as you know I’m almost twenty, an adult really and I’m already very responsible around the tower-“

“Y/n where is this going?” She interrupted, rubbing her temples.

“I want to go outside.” You turned to look at her.

“We’ve talked about this! It’s far too dangerous! You know what would happen if anyone discovered your gift!”

“I know, I know, but I’ve thought about it and no one would even know! I won’t tell anyone about it, and if they don’t know I have it then they don’t know how to use it, so it’s useless to them. If I just keep it braided I’ll be completely normal!” You came to sit across from her, hoping it’ll be convincing.

“No absolutely not, it’s much too risky! I have kept you safe for nearly twenty years! I am not stopping now! You’re far too young to understand but this is what’s best for you!” She got up and started to walk away again.

“But it’s not! I’ve never met anyone else! I’ve never had friends or met other people my own age! I’ve never even seen a real man!” You were absolutely desperate.

“Oh a man?! This is about men huh?! So you want to leave the safety of the home I built for you to go whore around for a man?!” She was absolutely furious, beyond cooling down.

“Mother no!” Your face was burning with embarrassment at the very suggestion of sexual activities.

“No truly I understand! You would rather leave this place and be used by men! Drained of your power in one of those Viking camps no doubt! I won’t hear another word, I’m going out for air and your attitude better be gone by the time I get back!” She walked over to the vine, untying it from the wall and setting it into a rustier pulley wheel that would let her down slowly, she was gone just as soon as she’d finished her sentence.

You had no choice but to sit in utter silence and shame. Swallowed by guilt that mother could ever consider you’d do that to her. As much as you wanted to leave and experience the real world, you desperately didn’t want to disappoint your mother or end up somewhere bad. Very quickly you dissolved into regret, backing over to try and undo what’s already been done, planning a way to forgiveness. Finishing the stew was the only way you knew how to start so you got to work, making this the best stew you could ever devise. Having never written the recipe down you had to go solely based on flavor and gut feeling. That was the best way to cook anyway. Once it had been spiced to taste you put the lid on the pot to let it simmer.

Almost immediately you found yourself overrun with anxiety, filled with a need to do something with your hands. To occupy your mind. There really wasn’t much to do in the tower to occupy you enough to erase this from the forefront of your mind. So you opted for the only thing that you could: cleaning. Your started polishing, dusting anything that you could and when there was nothing left you sat and you waited. The silence was absolutely deafening. You’d totally zoned out until you heard the rattling of the pot lid on the stove, snapping your head to it only to see the stew boiling over.

“Shit!” You rushed to turn it off, burning your hand in the process as you cleaned up the mess. Suddenly you were no longer hungry.

Opting to leave the stew on the stove for whenever mother would return you left the kitchen, going to your room as you cradled your hand gently. Tears stung your eyes, threatening to drip through your lashes and you curled up on your bed. Reaching for your braid with your uninsured hand, you gently took the end and rested it over your burned palm, reaching to wipe away some loose tears. Whether the tears were from the pain or from emotional discourse you couldn’t be sure. After drying your tears you closed your injured fingers around the large amount of hair, and began to hum a soft familiar melody. As the melody continued your hair began to glow a brilliant gold, almost glittery in color. Once the shimmer reached your palm, the heat faded and the wound healed. You were able to breathe. You looked to your palm, it was as soft and unharmed as it had been that morning. As it had always been. No scars or leftover pain. Just smooth healthy skin.

You couldn’t be bothered to really prepare for bed. The dress you wore was moveable, the corset easily undone as it tied in the front rather than in the back. Laying back you took a deep breath, closing your eyes momentarily to let go of all the stress that you could. After a minute of peace you pushed yourself up and off the bed, walking over to the dark wood armoire, opening it to look in the mirror, you sighed looking at your dress. There was stew on the navy skirt and what looked like a sizable carrot. You’d have to change to sleep. Lifting the skirt up closer you plucked off the carrot and disposed of it in the nearby waste basket. Returning to the armoire you flipped your braid back over your shoulder and checked the white sleeves of the off the shoulder blouse, slid your hands over the black corset, grabbing the tied strings from the vertex of the sweetheart neckline you untied the knot. Just as you’d finished untying the security knot you heard a loud grinding bang from the lower level. Pausing to listen you grew concerned.

“Mother? Are you alright?” You called gently.

When you didn’t receive a response you dropped the corset strings and left your bedroom, looking over the bannister you were met with the worst sight you could possibly have imagined. A large piece of the stone floor was broken and pushed out of the ground, slid off to the side and two large men climbed out of the dark hole below. Half a million questions filled your head. How was there a space under the floor? How did these men find you? Did they know who you were? There wasn’t time to think, you had to act. Silently and quickly you snuck back into your bedroom, burning out the lamps and climbing into the armoire as best as you could. Tilting your chin up to silence your breathing you listened. Waiting. Thinking. The men were much bigger than you thought a man would be. From what you could make out they dressed in dark clothing. Leather. Worn and hardly taken care of if at all. They were similar heights. One a redhead and the other blonde, both with rugged facial hair. You only had a brief look and the adrenaline pumping through your veins was making it difficult to focus.

“I am never doing that shit again, forty feet of crumbling bricks and thirty feet of rope, you seriously didn’t think that through?!” You could hear them arguing.

“It didn’t look that tall alright? Can we just find the chick and get out of here? I lost my good boots in a poker game with trash panda and if I don’t win them back he’s gonna tear them apart.”

It was clear they were coming for you. The only thing you could do was hope mother came home or that they didn’t see you behind all the other clothing in the armoire. The stairs creeped. Once. Twice. There was only one creaky step. They were both coming up. You held your breath.

“Food on the stove and the lamp in here is still warm. She was here recently.” They made it into your bedroom.

“If I had to guess I’d say she’s still here.” The footsteps stopped. It was silent.

Suddenly, the hem of your skirt was yanked-it had been caught in the door-and then the armoire burst open. The blonde man grabbed your arm as you struggled, ripping you from the small dark space and out into the open. He spun you around, pressing your back to his chest, his left forearm braced across your neckline and gripped your right shoulder. His right hand held a sharp silver blade to your heart.

“Well, well, well, Princess did we catch you at a bad time? These corset strings are so very loose for company.” The blonde man taunted, using the tip of his blade to pull on the cords.

You gripped this forearm, pushing back closer to his chest in an effort to get away from his blade as you struggled.

“P-please just leave me alone, I won’t tell any-anyone.” You stuttered, trying to stay calm the way your mother had taught you.

“We have plans for you, this hair of yours… hear there’s some people willing to pay a pretty penny for just a touch.” The red headed man stroked your braid, you jerked your head away.

“Oh oh oh” the blonde man laughed. “She’s a feisty one, are you sure we have to deliver her so soon? Could be fun…”

“Oh c’mon man don’t be gross he wants her unharmed. Mostly. C’mon just cloth her so we can go. Boots remember??” The red head said, grabbing your wrists and tying them together roughly. He took the dagger from the blonde, continuing to hold it in its position as the blond reached into his pocket.

“No no no no no please please I’ll give you anything you want just leave me alone!” You begged, swerving your head away from the blondes clothed hand as it moved towards your mouth.

“Bitch stop fussing around!” He slid his left forearm up to your throat, both choking you and effectively stabilizing your head long enough to clamp the cloth over your mouth and nose.

It hardly took thirty seconds before your vision started to swim and your vision started to fade to black.

“We’re already late. He’s waiting.” One of the men said as he slipped a cloth bag over your head. Your hearing went out, senses dulled as you gave in the the dark.

#marvel fanfiction #marvel reader insert #reader insert #x reader #bucky x reader series #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky fic #bucky x you #dark!bucky x reader #grey!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x reader #Gleam and Glow #bucky Barnes tangled au!#tangled au!#marvel au

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dreaminpetals · 3 years

Note

Can you do Idv Andrew relationships Hcs, maybe add nsfw if it's not too hard. thank you so much also I love your writing style :))

⏳ Andrew Relationship HCs . . .

SFW ;;

♡ when andrew first arrived at the manor, everyone welcomed him pretty well but nobody ever went out of their way to make him feel welcome

♡ except for you

♡ you'd always make sure he had something to eat, an umbrella for the sun, and would help him walk if he felt dizzy or couldn't see very well

♡ he couldn't understand why a stranger was being so kind to a monster like him

♡ he was so enamoured with you, it was like you had put a spell on him

♡ thank goodness his shaggy hair covers so much of his face because every time your hands touched when you handed him a snack he'd blush furiously

♡ when you shared an umbrella with him, he was squirming so hard from how happy you made him and how new this feeling was.. you noticed he was walking weird and thought it was due to his condition, not that he was trying to stop himself from bouncing like a puppy every time he walked with you

♡ before the sound of footsteps shook him to his core, now he associates them with you approaching him to tell him about your latest match and he gets 🦋🦋🦋

♡ andrew is a religious man, so he figured you were an angel sent to watch over him

♡ you laughed when he referred to you as an angel but secretly... you didn't mind the name

♡ whatever you were, he felt blessed by your presence and unworthy of your kindness

♡ when he asked why you never degraded him for his condition, you explained that the timeline you were from before reaching the manor is about a hundred years ahead of his so you knew all about albinism, you even had classmates with it

♡ he stared at you in awe and sniffed back tears, thinking about how people like him were able to attend school and make friends

♡ you held his hand when you noticed him battling the urge to cry

♡ he'd never felt such warmth before

♡ andrew was the kindest, most gentle man you've ever met and it felt like daggers to your heart when he told you about how he was tormented his whole life

♡ that was when you kissed him and whispered, cupping his cheek and staring lovingly into his eyes, "it's okay andrew, they're all gone now, we all love you here... i love you,"

♡ he nearly fell off the bench the two of you were sitting on

♡ hearing those words, feeling your warm lips on his icy chapped ones;;;; he pinched his wrist under the assumption he was dreaming

♡ "this can't be real, if it is... she has to be deceiving me... nobody could ever..." poor andrew didn't know he was speaking out loud

♡ you hushed him and pulled him close to you, so close he could feel the heat radiating off your body, and planted a kiss on the crown of his head. "andrew... please don't say that. it's okay if you don't feel the same, but... i want to be yours,"

♡ he stiffened up in your arms and nodded profusely

♡ he was tongue tied, especially when it came to the word love. he's never loved or been loved before this

♡ love was a scary word for him but his nodding told you that he felt the same way, he was happy, he was warm, he wanted more kisses, he wanted you, he loved you

♡ the two of you laid there while you rubbed his back and whispered words of endearment into his ear, he was completely relaxed for the first time in his life

♡ luca and victor passed by you two and victor promptly slipped a coin into luca's pocket

♡ "told ya they were gonna get together eventually," luca snickered before whistling at you two, mortifying you in the process

♡ your relationship is the softest thing ever

♡ andrew loves to hear about the future

♡ even if he's completely lost when you describe video games to him, he cherishes being able to hear you speak about what you're passionate about

♡ plenty of nights he falls asleep to you reading aloud to him, andrew loves to snuggle up to you and nod off to a bedtime story told by his love

♡ he's a very attentive lover, always picking up on what you like and what you don't

♡ dating is a brand new concept to him so there's lots of explanations you have to give, it's all worth it though. andrew is like a puppy around you, he's sooo so so happy and in love

♡ he sometimes feels insecure about holding your hand, especially in the winter, due to how cold he is but you told him he made you feel so warm inside that it cancelled out

♡ that's how you make andrew so flustered he has to hide his face in his hands 101

♡ he's ripped from digging graves all day long and can give you piggyback rides

♡ you beg him to run around with you in his arms but he always refuses, he doesn't wanna drop you

♡ doesn't matter, getting picked up by him and hearing both of you laugh in sync while your legs wiggle in the air is the best part anyways

♡ speaking of his laugh

♡ he'll laugh at whatever joke you tell him, whether he understands it or not

♡ he loves you call you angel, sweetheart, honey, dear... especially like, my dear sweet wonderful y/n the light of my life my angel from above - he thinks the more petnames he stacks, the more love he conveys for you. it gets ridiculous at times

♡ you two never fight and can agree on pretty much everything

♡ the second somebody in the manor makes a joke about you two getting married, he seriously considers it and goes searching for rings

♡ he wants to be with you for the rest of his life 🥺

NSFW ;;

♡ if you thought andrew was inexperienced in relationships, just wait till you want to take things to the next level with him

♡ i feel like he'd know what sex is but only because he was told not to do it before marriage and he knows that it makes babies, he has no idea people do it out of love

♡ he's so affection starved that he gets horny when you do the smallest things

♡ he'd never dare to speak on it though

♡ your clothes dip to reveal your chest or ass and he feels something down there, but he doesn't know what to do about it and feels humiliated

♡ he thinks he's being cursed, he's been too lucky and too happy for far too long

♡ the final straw is when he accidentally opens the door while you're getting changed and he catches a glimpse of your naked body

♡ he's reduced to a trembling mess who can't do anything but palm himself through his cassock

♡ that's when you have to explain to him that he's just horny and there's nothing wrong with sex, even if you aren't married

♡ you emphasize that you'd love to do it with him and you've wanted to for a long time

♡ he trusts you but he's so embarrassed he doesn't know where to start

♡ you start off by slowly undressing him and running your hands all over his body, kissing every scar and praising him endlessly

♡ he's shaking and dripping so much precum with every word of endearment, he's waited so long for this to happen

♡ you sit in his lap and stare into his eyes and he cums before you even get to his lower half

♡ he can't sit up straight and clings to you for support, he's never had any sort of sexual action before and this poor guy is way too sensitive

♡ showing his body to you was scary but with the way you tenderly kissed him and drew circles on his skin with nothing but pure adoration, he realized maybe he wasn't so ugly after all

♡ your first time with him lasts hours and he proposes to you seconds after pulling out because he wants to do that with you everyday from now on without feeling guilty

♡ nobody thought he would have such a high sex drive but he's like a rabbit, he always wants to touch you and make you feel good

♡ he can't initiate things but you can tell by the way he squirms and eyes you when you walk in the room that he's about to explode

♡ those years of isolation did something to him

♡ his favourite activity is when you give him handjobs because he's scared of hurting you somehow, paradise for him is sitting in bed together while you pump his cock and kiss him gently

♡ his hands and fingers are HUGE and super calloused so the friction feels like heaven when he gets the guts to touch you

♡ not to mention his dick is like the eiffel tower, he needs to learn how to use it bcos it is biiig

♡ he's so addicted to the noises and faces you make when you cum, you truly are an angel to him

♡ he loves to go slow and savour every moment, but right before he cums his carnal side comes out and he's like an animal

♡ he goes from soft cries to straight up growling

♡ something unexpected he loves is bath sex

♡ the two of you covered in bubbles in a warm bath getting each other off makes him so happy, especially when you're back from a particularly gruesome match

♡ he'll be extra soft if you have any injuries

♡ andrew is willing to try anything that you want, even if he thinks he won't like it, he wants to make his darling happy

♡ he doesn't like when you bury your face in a pillow or try to hide from him, he wants to see your body in all its glory and worship it like you do his

♡ his moans can get so loud that your neighbours victor and luca have to smack the wall to tell you to quiet down in there

♡ which is pretty unfair since they aren't any quieter either :/

#andrew kreiss imagine #andrew kreiss x reader #andrew kreiss #andrew kreiss smut #idv imagine #idv x reader #identity v imagine #this is so long i got carried away for my boy andrew fjfkdks

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melanielocke · 3 years

Text

Lost in the Shadows - Chapter 14

AO3

Taglist: @nott-the-best @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings @ipromiseiwillwrite

Alastair had been about to change for bed when Thomas entered his bedroom, holding his pajama bottoms in his hands. Thomas himself had intended to wish him good night and then go home. But when he saw Alastair, he drowned in his dark eyes like a starving man, and he wanted nothing more than to kiss him again. It couldn’t hurt to stay a little longer, could it? Alastair invited him in, Thomas could hardly refuse.

After a while, they’d stopped kissing to talk while they lay on the bed together, both fully clothed, but their bodies close. Thomas still couldn’t quite fathom that he was here, with Alastair, kissing him. He couldn’t quite believe it was real and Alastair wanted him. He couldn’t even describe how he was feeling right now, flustered and warm, yet shivering at the same time.

‘I love how you ask before you kiss me or touch me,’ Alastair said. ‘It’s not always easy for me to be touched. I still want you to keep asking, at least for now. I like it when you touch me though.’

Thomas hand rested on Alastair’s side, Alastair had placed it there himself. Thomas was starting to suspect that Alastair was very sensitive to touch. It was easy to get a response out of him, and Alastair was looking for just the right amount of pressure in just the right place.

‘I didn’t realize it’d be so important,’ Thomas said. ‘I know in movies people rarely ask to kiss someone, it just sort of happens. Usually when both people want it and apparently they knew that all along. But in real life you’re not always that sure and I felt too awkward, had no idea what you were expecting or if you even wanted to feel my lips. So I figured I’d ask.’

Alastair pushed a lock of soft dark hair out of his face. ‘I guess that’s what happens in most relationships. People just kiss when they feel the other wants it. But I feel like people often overestimate how well they read others, and might wrongfully assume consent.

I’ve heard people complain that asking makes it not sexy, which is stupid because there are very sexy ways to ask for consent.’

Thomas turned very red when Alastair said that, his face burning. He stroke Alastair’s cheek with his thumb. ‘I can’t wait for what you’ll come up with. Have you done that before?’

Thomas then realized, of course, Alastair only had one ex and that had been someone who had mistreated him. Asking about that would be hurtful and he didn’t think Alastair would want to talk about that. Oh shit, had he done the wrong thing already? Thomas was positively freaking out by the time Alastair answered.

‘No I haven’t,’ Alastair admitted. ‘I never really took the initiative since it was always about his wants and desires and I was expected to just follow along. I never realized how important it was to me until you asked to kiss me. It can be difficult, being touched, but it’s much better when I know someone cares if I want it or not.’

In the end, Thomas felt like it was a bit too early for a sleepover. He wasn’t sure Alastair would be comfortable, and the idea of sleeping next to someone else was still foreign to Thomas. He decided it was time to go back to his parents.

‘Will you be there tomorrow morning?’ he asked. ‘Even if we can’t go into the woods.’

‘Of course,’ Alastair said. ‘Same time as always.’

Thomas slept peacefully that night and when he woke up the next morning, he didn’t remember what he’d dreamt, or if he’d dreamt at all. He checked his phone and realized it was eleven already. That couldn’t be true, so Thomas checked again, but the numbers on the clock hadn’t changed. Startled, Thomas got up quickly and got dressed in the first clean clothes he could find. He’d asked Alastair to come here, and considering Alastair consistently woke early, he must have arrived here several hours ago. Thomas would eat quickly, and then go to the Herondales and apologize. He dressed and quickly made his way to the kitchen. Alastair was still there, sitting at the table with his parents in conversation.

‘Morning, sleepyhead,’ Alastair said with a grin when he noticed Thomas.

‘Alastair, I’m so sorry,’ Thomas said.

Alastair shrugged, sipping from a cup of coffee. ‘I take it you needed to sleep. I don’t blame you, I wish I had that ability.’

‘I do feel very energetic and rested,’ Thomas admitted. ‘So maybe it was necessary. I only just woke up.’

Alastair frowned. ‘Energetic and rested, huh? What does that feel like?’

Thomas grabbed some bread and spread some plant based butter on it before putting it in the toaster. ‘I don’t know. Like, not tired, feeling like I can easily do whatever I want to today. You know, when you slept well and are ready to face the day and take on whatever comes onto your path.’

‘I don’t know, that sounds fake,’ Alastair said.

Thomas looked Alastair in the eye. ‘You’ve never felt rested and energetic?’

‘Not really. I just can’t imagine people being rested or energetic. I can’t remember feeling that way and I always figured people were all just in different stages of tiredness. Then of course, under late stage capitalism that’s probably true.’

Thomas knew trauma was exhausting, he’d read a little about it since coming here and had found that fatigue was common. Of course, being tired was hardly specific for PTSD and could be a symptom of nearly everything, and he guessed overall it was common. But could Alastair truly not imagine not being tired?

‘Maybe if you slept better, you’d feel rested too,’ Thomas suggested.

‘You’ve been having trouble sleeping, Alastair?’ his father asked, some concern written over his face.

‘Oh, just the usual. Nightmares, waking up several times a night, then waking up early and giving up on sleep.’

‘You had another nightmare?’ Thomas asked.

Alastair shrugged. ‘I have nightmares nearly every night. I’ve gotten used to it, and tonight wasn’t particularly bad. But even on the rare occasion I sleep long and don’t have nightmares, I don’t feel rested when I wake up.’

‘Fatigue builds up,’ his mother said. ‘One good night won’t make up for that many bad ones. Best you could do is discuss it with your doctor, but I know nightmares like you have are difficult to combat.’

Thomas wished there was something he could do to help with that, but he suspected it was a very complex problem and there was little he could do beyond comforting Alastair when he needed it.

‘Cordelia wants to see us, by the way,’ Alastair said. ‘She’s been texting me for over an hour, but I decided to wait for you to wake up.’

‘Oh, in that case I’ll hurry,’ Thomas said and he quickly finished his breakfast.

He and Alastair left to walk back to the manor. Would Cordelia be very upset about him sleeping late? What would she want to see them for?

‘I’m really sorry I slept in,’ Thomas said. ‘Was it very awkward with my parents?’

‘No, it was alright,’ Alastair said.

Thomas was glad to hear it, he liked seeing how well Alastair seemed to get along with his parents. With Barbara’s boyfriend Oliver, it had taken some time for his father to warm up to him, possibly because Oliver had been the first time any of them had dated and his father had freaked out a little by how fast they were all growing up. Then there’d been Augustus, Eugenia’s creepy ex, whom his parents hadn’t liked at all. They’d kept quiet out of respect for Genie’s wishes, but were proven right when she discovered Augustus had cheated on her.

‘They seem to like you,’ Thomas said.

Alastair shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I think they like that I have a useful ability, and that I will do what it takes to save your life than they like me.’

Thomas frowned. That didn’t sound like his parents at all. Being protective was one thing, but they wouldn’t And hadn’t Alastair opened up to his father about his past lately? ‘Did they say that?’

‘No, not really,’ Alastair said. ‘But it’s sort of obvious, isn’t it? They are scared they’re going to lose you, and I am willing to do whatever it takes to save you.’

Thomas wasn’t sure what to make of what Alastair was saying. ‘Those are not mutually exclusive, are they? My parents can genuinely like you, but also be glad you’re willing to help save me.’

Alastair didn’t say anything.

‘What did they talk to you about this morning?’ Thomas asked, genuinely confused.

‘They wanted to know all about university, and how my first year went. I didn’t realize your father was a politician.’

Thomas wondered what was going on inside Alastair’s head, but wasn’t sure if he should press on the issue. Did Alastair not think people could genuinely like him? How did he conclude his parents only liked his willingness to save Thomas when they asked him about his life?

‘He’s on the city council,’ Thomas confirmed.

‘Yes, he said that,’ Alastair said. ‘I think he’s decently leftist, although there’s room for improvement.’

Thomas frowned. ‘In what sense?’

‘He seems a bit moderate leftist still.’ Alastair shrugged. ‘Very much seeking to improve within the system, when really we should be tearing down the system and start over. There’s always room to move farther to the left. But your father seems open to suggestions.’

‘You’re not regretting your decision to stop studying politics?’ Thomas asked.

‘No. I still think sociology is going to be a better fit. I’d much rather do research and write the blueprint for a better, not capitalist society in peace than argue with people about it,’ Alastair said. ‘I like the theory, writing out the arguments and coming up with solutions that are overlooked by others. I’ve always hated debate.’

‘We had to do some debating in school,’ Thomas said. ‘I can’t say I hated it, but I never cared for it either.’

‘I had a complicated stance towards debate in school,’ said Alastair. ‘Mainly because we always had these stances that I don’t think should be up for debate at all. Being against human rights for certain marginalized groups of people is not a valid stance and teachers should not pretend it is. But when the stances were interesting, I did like researching, writing out the arguments. Of course, debate in school is also pretty much acting out the discussion, which I’ve never quite understood.’

Thomas wondered if there were any specific stances he was referring to, but before he could ask they arrived at the Herondale manor. Cordelia immediately dragged them inside when she spotted the two of them. ‘You are so late!’ she scolded.

‘I just woke up,’ Thomas said. ‘What was so urgent?’

‘That girl visited me last night,’ Cordelia said when they were all sitting. ‘Grace.’

‘Who is Grace?’ asked Alastair. ‘Am I missing something?’

‘That girl we saw with Tatiana,’ Cordelia explained, gesturing wildly. ‘She came to my room last night. When I woke up, she was sitting in my chair.’

Thomas remembered Lucie mentioning her name was Grace after following Jesse, but didn’t know anything else about her.

‘That sounds terrifying,’ Thomas offered. ‘Are you alright?’

‘She came to me to ask for help,’ Cordelia continued. ‘Tatiana is controlling her and the only way we can free her is by finding her skin.’

Thomas wasn’t sure he was following. ‘And that’s not on her? You mean her literal skin?’

‘I am definitely missing something here,’ Alastair added. ‘That, or my sister is not explaining this very well.’

Cordelia groaned. ‘She’s a selkie. Siren. Something in between. She has the song powers of a siren, but like a selkie she becomes a seal and can come to shore and turn human. In the process she sheds her skin, which she needs to return to the sea. Tatiana has enchanted it and hidden it somewhere, and as long as Tatiana has it Grace is under her control. She asked me to retrieve her skin for her.’

Thomas frowned. ‘Where is her skin?’

‘Somewhere in the woods,’ Cordelia said. ‘Guarded. She said that if we do not free her, she can make us do anything and so we won’t stand a chance against Tatiana.’

Thomas remembered the ruins from yesterday. The trapdoor neither of them had been able to open. Could that be where the skin was hidden? They hadn’t translated the script yet either. He took out his phone and searched the picture. Taking pictures of the supernatural was very confusing in Thomas’ experience. Sometimes he took pictures of something he could see, only for it to not appear on the photograph. Other times, the picture showed what was really going on. And every once in a while, someone without the sight would take a picture of something they could not see and later while going through their pictures realize there was something strange there. People often thought such pictures were hoaxes, but according to his mother sometimes people really caught something on camera. Yesterday, he hadn’t gotten lucky. The picture of the inscription was gone. Instead, there was a picture of some shrubs Thomas did not remember taking. The picture of the corpse was gone too, replaced by a vague picture of the ground.

‘Alastair, do you have any pictures from the ruins?’ Thomas asked.

Alastair went through his phone. ‘Apparently my camera didn’t agree with the supernatural,’ Alastair said. ‘Only forest pictures I do not remember taking. If we want to go over what we saw, my memory will have to do. This does confirm though, that the ruins themselves are part of something supernatural.’

They spent the next few hours going over Alastair’s memory and copying the script onto a piece of paper. Thomas guessed it was exhausting for Alastair, bringing all of them there, because once they had the whole script on paper, he collapsed onto the couch under Lucie’s Lilo and Stitch blanket. Thomas couldn’t help but think he looked adorable. His eyes were closed, and although Thomas didn’t think he was asleep, he seemed at peace.

Thomas decided to leave him for a while, Alastair had said he’d slept badly last night. Perhaps he could get some more rest. Instead he helped Lucie and Cordelia with the translation. Although he didn’t speak the language of the inscription, Thomas had always been good with languages and he went into it as if it were a puzzle he could solve, first translating the letters into something he could understand and then looking up what it meant and finally turning the words into sentences that made sense.

When Alastair got up from the couch and joined them, they were done with the translation.

‘Did you get anything?’ Alastair asked.

‘Yes,’ Cordelia said. ‘This is interesting.’

Welcome to the land in between

Halfway to the thief of Souls

Here you can guard whichever you do not want found

But every puzzle has an answer and every lock has a key

And beware, for if you stay too long there will be no way back

Your soul will be forfeit

‘A land in between,’ Lucie mused. ‘In between what?’

‘Halfway to the thief of Souls,’ Alastair said. ‘I think that means in between our world and what belongs to this thief creature. I’ve never heard of the thief of souls though.’

‘I have,’ Cordelia said. ‘In my dream, a washer woman appeared and told me to beware the thief of souls.’

Alastair frowned. ‘When did this happen? Last night?’

Cordelia shook her head. ‘No, the night before.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ Alastair asked, concerned.

‘Because you were in the woods for most of the day, and when we found you we’d just killed a werewolf and you were injured. I didn’t want to stress you out more.’

‘You didn’t want to stress me?’ Alastair asked, raising his voice. ‘You think ignoring the problem, or keeping it from me will make it go away? You cannot keep such things from me!’

Cordelia looked like she was about to say something in response, but changed her mind. ‘I’m sorry, dâdâsh. I simply had not seen an opportunity, and then I forgot about it. That was all.’

Alastair seemed to calm down, and Thomas guessed it was best to leave it at that. Alastair was protective of his younger sister, just like Thomas’ older sisters were of him, and he understood, but he also knew it could be frustrating. Thomas sometimes hated how easily he understood everyone’s perspective in such conflicts.

‘Alright, yesterday we somehow made our way into the in between land, those ruins,’ Thomas said. ‘And if we stay too long, there will be no way back. How did we get there?’

‘I think these places in between appear and disappear all over the globe,’ Alastair said. ‘Perhaps it is possible to summon or control where or how it appears, but I am not sure. So these stories of people getting trapped in the woods somehow.’

‘They are trapped in that other realm instead,’ Lucie exclaimed. ‘That boy in the lake, whatever he was sucked into was limited only to the lake so he could not swim out. And Jesse was trapped in the woods in another realm, and that’s why he saw no one looking for him and why no one found him until he’d died.’

‘Thief of souls sounds like a powerful entity,’ Alastair mused. ‘The kind someone like Benedict Lightwood might have struck a deal with. And the name implies his price would be a soul.’

‘There are all kinds of stories of people selling their soul for power,’ Lucie said. ‘But in this case, it seems like it’s someone else’s soul that is bartered away. How do you imagine that works?’

‘I suspect he won’t take just anyone,’ Alastair said. ‘I do not think Benedict Lightwood would have chosen to sacrifice his wife if a random stranger would suffice.’

Thomas frowned, had Benedict Lightwood chosen to sacrifice his wife? The way his father told the story, he must have assumed her death was an unintended consequence, that he might not have been aware of the consequences. But perhaps his father had been too kind in that assumption.

‘The washer woman said something to me about Benedict’s blood, so he might desire a relative,’ Thomas said. ‘And a spouse must have also sufficed.’

‘Someone important to you,’ Alastair said. ‘Although how important could a grandson he never met have been?’

‘He turned into a monster, didn’t he?’ Lucie asked. ‘Does anyone know why that happened? Is that also because of this thief of souls creature?’

Thomas has assumed that was another part of the whole price for magic. But if someone wanted him to trade souls for magic, why transform him into a monster? That would mean the supply would stop. According to his father, Benedict had made deals with several entities though, and there were plenty of ways that could have gone wrong. Perhaps something else had turned him into that monster.

‘No,’ Thomas said. ‘My father had no idea. Perhaps Tatiana knows more since she has access to all his journals and we don’t.’

Thomas wondered why there were no libraries or resources related to the supernatural. Too few people knew about it, he guessed. People sometimes traded information among each other, but no one kept track of everything. Many with the sight either believed they were crazy, or tried to stay away from the supernatural and live a normal life. Thomas couldn’t blame them. But it was difficult that there was nowhere they could find answers, except asking people with some experience in the hopes they’d encountered something similar. His father had been unable to contact uncle Gabriel the past few days.

‘I do not think we can count on getting those journals from Tatiana unless we steal them,’ Alastair said. ‘I think we can now be certain that she is our enemy. My best guess, she wants to bring back her son from the dead and does not care what it takes.’

‘We need to go back into the woods,’ Lucie said. ‘I think there’s more to be found in these ruins. Based on what Grace told Cordelia, that must be where the skin is hidden.’

‘Grace mentioned something about her skin being in the land in between,’ Cordelia added. ‘This must be it.’

Alastair stared at his sister. ‘You do realize we might end up trapped in another world with no way back?’

‘I’ll go,’ Thomas offered. ‘If we fail, I’ll end up trapped there anyway.’

‘Not on your own, you won’t,’ Alastair said. ‘If you must go, I’ll join you.’

Thomas sighed, he should have seen that coming, even if the point in him going was that if they failed, he would be dead anyway.

‘I must come too,’ Cordelia added. ‘We’ll need cortana in case we run into anything else that tries to kill us.’

‘I’m not going to sit here alone,’ Lucie said crossly.

Cordelia looked at her friend with fondness. Thomas wondered, did she feel about Lucie as Lucie felt for her? Thomas was usually observant when it came to people’s feelings, but Cordelia and Lucie were such close friends he struggled to tell the difference.

‘It’s going to be very dangerous, Lucie,’ she said. ‘I’m not sure there are any ghosts there for you to talk to, whereas we need my sword and Alastair’s memory. Thinking about it, perhaps it is better if Thomas stays too.’

‘I have the sight,’ Thomas protested. ‘And I don’t want to stay behind.’

‘Well, me neither,’ Lucie said. ‘If you’re going, so am I. If you want to stop me you’re going to have to tie me up here.’

Alastair gazed at the ceiling as if he was considering the option. Thomas knew Cordelia made a point, and he didn’t want to put Lucie in danger, but he also knew Lucie was one of the few people who could match his stubbornness, and realistically, they weren’t going to stop her.

Thomas sighed. ‘I see you intend to Herondale to the fullest today, Lucie. So, we’ll all go take a walk into the woods, find the ruins, and retrieve that girl’s skin?’

‘I thought we’d discussed none of you are going into the woods.’

They all turned around to see Will had walked into the room. He looked amused. ‘It seems you are all much like me when I was young,’ Will mused. ‘I must say it is very irritating.’

‘I’m your daughter,’ Lucie said. ‘What did you expect would happen?’

Will shrugged. ‘Well, you could have been more like your mother, but it appears you do indeed intend to Herondale to the fullest. I suppose someone has to keep the family tradition alive.’

‘You’re not going to stop us?’ Lucie asked.

‘Oh no, I definitely intend to,’ Will said.

#Thomas Lightwood #Alastair Carstairs #Cordelia Carstairs #Lucie Herondale #Thomastair #Lucelia #the last hours #fanfiction #fic

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moonbeambucky · 4 years

Text

Hey Neighbor (Part 15)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 4021 Warnings: fluff, mentions of the Holocaust

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: Thank you also to Ary (formerly @johnnynunzio) for helping me with information and resources for the history of Romani people during the Holocaust

PART 14 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

Walking up the steps to the hospital becomes a little difficult as you zig-zag through groups of people trying not to hit anyone with your umbrella. Under the overhang of the building you shake it out after closing it, hoping the umbrella doesn’t drip too much on the floors as you make your way to the elevator.

It’s been a really wet day but you don’t mind it so much considering all this rain is supposed to bring beautiful flowers next month and the hope of something beautiful is exactly what you needed now.

It hasn’t been the easiest going to work every day. Metro-General is where you first met Billy and now that you’ve broken up it’s all you can think about every time you have to head down to the ER.

Wanda came over that night you got back from work and broke the news that she and Sam spotted Billy with another woman. You insisted on seeing the proof, the pictures being the final push in your decision to end things with Billy.

You admitted how things weren’t the same anymore, his attitude plus lack of caring when you were sick really made you reconsider your relationship. It had been a few days since you spoke to Billy but you wanted to call him out in person, meeting at a coffee shop to discuss things.

Confronting him was easier than you thought but watching him lie to your face was not. You had proof and he still accused you and your friends of lying just to make him look bad. After a small outburst he finally fessed up to seeing the woman named Krista. Billy didn’t tell you how long he had been cheating which pissed you off but you walked away feeling good about ending things.

It didn’t mean that you felt good. You knew that it was Billy’s loss but still, it didn’t feel good to be cheated on. You questioned everything. Was he lying from the beginning? Was work the real reason he had to cancel a few times? All of these questions made you doubt your self-worth.

Your friends were great after your breakup, each one of them there for you, readily offering up a chance to kick Billy’s ass if you let them. You all went out to celebrate how you “took out the trash,” round after round dedicated to your new freedom. But being surrounded by everyone in relationships didn’t make you feel the best, everyone except Bucky.

You might have had a little too much to drink that night and in a tearful drunken cry you might have asked him what was so wrong with you to make Billy cheat.

Bucky might also have had too much as he slurred his answer, but still he was insistent.

“There ain’t nothing wrong about you Y/N. Nothin’. Assholes like Billy treat the world like it belongs to them, like everything is up for the taking, no consequences apply. But he’s wrong and he lost the best thing to ever happen to him. You hear me? You’re the best thing that could happen t’anybody.”

You replay Bucky’s words in your mind as you pass by the nurses’ desk where Billy gave you his card. It was his loss.

Since the breakup you’ve been throwing yourself into work again. Dating Billy wasn’t a mistake, he just wasn’t the right person for you and after careful consideration you decided to chalk up those feelings you might have had towards Bucky towards all the care he gave you when you were sick.

Bucky was your friend and a great one at that and so you made sure to fill your weekends by keeping a promise. You and Bucky began your pizza quest and it has been amazing. Your pants don’t quite agree with you but it’s definitely been worth it.

In between cases you responded to a text from Wanda. The exhibit she had been working on for The Jewish Museum is opening in a few weeks and she wanted to confirm you would be there. Like she really had to ask, of course you would.

Over the last few months she’s been working so hard on this and you couldn’t wait to be there to support her. Everyone was going and Sam made sure to take the day off.

Bucky: You up for a trek to Brooklyn?

The message caught you off guard but still brought a large smile to your face. You replied quickly asking what he was talking about and by the end of your shift it was decided; you and Bucky were going to Brooklyn for pizza.

“I haven’t been here in forever,” Bucky said, while opening the door to Spumoni Gardens for you.

“These better be worth the two transfers Bucky. I am starving!”

You may have exaggerated a little but you were pretty hungry. Bucky insisted that you must try this famous pizza, arguing that Brooklyn is technically within the boundaries as part of your pizza quest. Semantics aside, you trusted that the hour long trip to get here would be worth it.

Spumoni Gardens was famous for their Sicilian pie and Bucky ordered one the moment you were seated. Soon enough twelve thick slices were laid out in front of you in the most interesting looking square of pizza you had seen before, with the sauce on top.

With a skeptical eye you squint at Bucky who urges you to take a bite, eagerly awaiting your response. There was no denying it, as you sank your teeth into the deliciously thick crust, with sauce and cheese hitting your taste buds like a pinball setting off lights and sound as it hits the winning targets.

A proud grin settled on Bucky’s face as he held up his own slice, taking a bite as he watched you dab at the bit of sauce in the corner of your mouth with a napkin. His eyes light up, raising his brows in a silent request for your opinion.

“So good.” Every bit of enthusiasm is behind the few words you’ve said, combined with the smile that stayed plastered on your face as you quickly took another bite, needing to taste the symphony of flavors again.

Bucky paid for everything despite your protests. He insisted that since you indulged him in his craving after a long day of work it was only fair. Side by side you slowly strolled back to the train, making a promise to come back for the spumoni when you haven’t stuffed yourselves full of pizza.

Conversation was always easy with Bucky, making the ride back home a breeze. When you reached your block you saw familiar faces headed towards the building.

“Hey guys,” Bucky greeted Clint and Natasha, as they walked with their arms linked to the door.

“We just had the best pizza!” you blurted out, unable to control your enthusiasm for the amazing dinner you had.

“Oh yeah, well we just had some shitty pasta.” Natasha playfully smacked Clint in the stomach for his blunt remark. “What? It wasn’t good!” he snarked.

“We just came back from a wedding expo,” she added.

Her lips were tense as they pressed together. They had been wedding planning for a while, not getting very far. Natasha’s work had set her back, which she didn’t mind since she was excelling professionally but it did require her and Clint to push back their wedding date a few times since they couldn’t commit to the time frame required.

“It’ll come together in time,” you said, offering a hopeful smile.

“All I know is Sonny Burch is not going to cater our wedding. That food was awful. Now tell me more about this pizza.”

Clint was practically drooling throughout the elevator ride as you and Bucky described the incredible pizza you had. After saying goodnight to them you and Bucky held back your laughter hearing Clint begging Natasha to go to Spumoni Gardens tomorrow as the elevator doors were shutting.

“Thanks for dinner Bucky,” you said, pressing a kiss to his cheek before unlocking your door. “Oh wait! Hang on one second!”

As you went inside your apartment you missed the way Bucky touched his cheek, still feeling the tingle of your lips against his skin. A moment later you came out, handing him a wrapped present.

“For taking care of me last month when I was sick.”

“You didn’t have to Y/N.” He meant it, whatever it was you got him really wasn’t necessary but you insisted it was.

Your lips pressed together with excited anticipation, staring at Bucky with widened eyes as he began to tear off the wrapping. He held up the stretched white canvas rectangle with vertical lines of varied height going across it. He smiled kindly, unsure exactly what he was looking at which was fine, his gift needed a little explanation.

“It’s Herrmann’s Psycho score in soundwave form.”

Bucky’s jaw dropped open as he stared at the vertical lines that conveyed every beat, seeing the taller lines represent the higher strings, the greater tension of the score. It was so unique, so perfectly suited for him and he knew you truly understood who he was.

“I love it. Thank you so much Y/N.”

One arm wrapped around you as he held the artwork out of the way. This gift reaffirmed the feelings he felt for you, making it harder to deal with the fact that he wasn’t going to do anything about them.

After your break up with Billy you made it very clear that you were not interested in dating. This was not the time for him to open up to you. He didn’t want to push you into anything you weren’t comfortable with so once again Bucky needed a distraction from his feelings. This is how he found himself back on the dating apps.

He finally went on a date with Bobbi, a few actually, only to find that the real chemistry they had was in the bedroom. The longer Bucky stared at the artwork you gave him the more he felt like calling her to help push aside you and thoughts of the amazing non-date that you had, but he knew she was out of town for the weekend.

Bucky’s too tired to get involved with calling someone else so instead he settled down in front of his keyboard. His fingers glide across the keys as he’s filled with inspiration, pouring his heart into a melody with you on his mind.

Wanda paced back and forth in her apartment, stopping each time to check her reflection in the scalloped mirror above her dresser when she passed it. The way she swept back the few loose tendrils of her now more conservative light brown hair wasn’t out of vanity but nerves, needing to do anything to stop the shakiness of her hands.

“Hey, everything’s going to be perfect. I promise you have nothing to worry about,” you said, offering open arms to Wanda.

She was so fidgety she was barely able to stay in your embrace for more than a second. Wanda couldn’t help it. Tonight was the opening of The Jewish Museum’s exhibit on The Holocaust and Wanda was extremely nervous. Knowing this day was so important to her, you took off from your internship, promising Elena you would make up the hours.

The buzzer of her doorbell rang and Wanda jumped with excitement. “Mom!” Wanda called out, running towards the door.

It had only been a few months since they saw each other but on a stressful day like this nothing comforted Wanda more than her mom.

“Y/N, it’s so good to see you sweetheart.” Marya wrapped her arms around you and it felt like home, and seeing her brought back all the memories of your youth with Wanda and Pietro.

It was impossible not to think about him, especially considering he shared so many features with his mom. Piet would have been so proud of Wanda today and amidst the hug you choke back the tears you felt forming.

Wanda needed to be at the museum early so you and Marya went for a light dinner first as she headed there. Catching up was easy and Marya told you how proud she was for all the hard work you’ve been putting in to get your degree. The passion behind social work was unspoken because she already knew how deeply you felt about the circumstances of Wanda and Pietro’s upbringing.

“I think about it sometimes… what could have been.”

The twinkle in her eye suggested she knew the childhood crush you harbored for her son. It wasn’t something you ever admitted before. Even Wanda didn’t know.

“Years ago I finally had the strength to go through his things. I may have found your names in a heart, scratched on what should have been his notes on American history.”

You brushed aside a tear that trickled down along the curved cheek from your smile. Piet hated history so doodling became a common way to pass the time, and knowing he felt the same doesn’t make it any easier in losing him.

Marya brought a napkin to her face to soak up her own tears. She apologized though you told her there was no reason to. “So tell me, are you seeing anyone?”

As you retold the story of putting off relationships while you earned your degree you saw her mouth pull into a frown.

“Don’t put your life on hold, you know how quickly things can change.”

Her advice didn’t feel like a lecture, and you knew you might have jumped the gun on calling off dating again; not everyone would be like Billy.

An intricately detailed archway leads you through the main doors and into the crowded lobby of the museum. It’s past the normal operating hours, premiering the exhibit for the media and friends and family first.

You spot your friends gathered together in the corner and happily introduce them to Marya. Sam smiles a little wider as he introduces himself. “Yes, that Sam,” he replied. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Bucky is wearing his long hair down, neatly tucked behind his ears and even in all black he stands out. The white printed pattern on his black button down shirt draws your eye to the velvet blazer that makes him look incredibly sophisticated.

“You look great,” Bucky said, as you both leaned in to press your cheeks against each other for a kiss.

He couldn’t take his eyes off of you and the shine of your beige satin shirt. The delicate gold chain you wore draped lower than the V-neck cut and he let his eyes linger down your body, from the black pants that hugged your figure to the pointed black heels.

“Thanks, you look pretty good yourself. Ooh fancy,” you said, running your hands along his velvet lapel.

The chatter in the lobby grew for another ten minutes until you were directed to follow the group towards the exhibit. Marya was accompanied by Sam and both their faces lit up as they spotted Wanda, standing proudly beside a curtain that was drawn across the entry of the main room. Her eyes twinkled as she spotted them, you and everyone amongst the crowd.

A man not much taller than her walked in front of the curtain with a microphone in hand. He introduced himself as the museum’s director Phillip Coulson. Wanda had always spoken highly of him and you can see why. He was soft spoken with a kind smile, welcoming everyone to the exhibit.

“On the eve of Yom HaShoah we invite you to do what is asked, remember. We remember through stories, from letters that made it out while their writers did not. We remember through pictures, of people and the faces we strive to never forget, of discarded belongings left behind deemed as irrelevant as the lives of their owners. As we remember the decimation and destruction we also remember the endurance, the survival. We remember and we will never forget.”

A round of applause breaks through the crowd with the increased flashing of camera lights as Director Coulson gestures to Wanda who proudly draws open the curtain, opening the exhibit.

The large room is painted in a somber blue, as if the life had been sucked out of a once vibrant sky. It’s fitting. This is a place of reverence, surrounded by artifacts that tell a painful history.

There were three smaller rooms connected to the main area, each showcasing smaller exhibits, one of which you knew was the one Wanda was most proud of. She stood in front of it, awaiting her friends so you could walk through it together.

“It’s called The Ghosts of Genocide and it focuses on the Romani aspect of the Holocaust.”

Unlike the main room there were few displays. One wall was dedicated to Philomena Franz, the first Romani woman to document her experiences in the concentration camps. You read the information beside her photograph, “Zwischen Liebe und Hass” (“Between Love and Hate”) was her autobiography, the dichotomy of a happy childhood against the brutality of Auschwitz.

The next photograph was of Elena Lacková, a Slovakian Romani poet and playwright. “Holocaust Romů v povídkách” (“Holocaust of Roma in short stories”). A copy of the out of print book was behind a glass enclosure.

The large wall featured the paintings of Ceija Stojka, an Austrian Romani Holocaust survivor. You chew on your bottom lip tensely as you stare at the images. Simple ink depictions of dead bodies stacked in a haphazard pile like they were nothing more than logs meant for a fire. One image burns itself into your brain, “Mama in Auschwitz” the wide-eyed look of fear immortalized by the memory of a child.

“Wanda.” You clear your voice of the thickness that built up inside, the heavy lump that weighed on your chest from reading everything. “Forgive me if this sounds disrespectful but I thought you were supposed to incorporate the history of those who were Jewish and Romani.”

She sighed heavily. “I was but there are so many factors that play into the reason why I couldn’t; loss of information being a big one but also most people didn’t specify that they were Jewish. Obviously we know that some were but it was an issue of safety. They were already dealing with being Romani and the prejudices that came with that so they couldn’t come out with it. It’s why we have this.”

She turned you around to the far wall, glossy black tile shines against striking spotlights.

“But it’s blank.”

She nodded, pointing to the dedication. “For the countless, nameless Jewish-Romani lives lost.”

You reached out to touch the wall, your palm against the cold tile; the emptiness that contrasts so starkly in a place filled with history on every wall. And you suppose the lack of information is a lesson learned in history itself.

“This is pretty powerful stuff,” Bucky’s voice called out from behind you.

“Yeah. It is.” You didn’t have any more words.

When the night was coming to a close everyone went home quietly. Wanda’s achievements would be celebrated another night. It was comfortably silent as you and Bucky left the elevator. The unexpected feeling of your arms wrapping around him for a hug was surprising but nice and he deepened the action, firmly pulling you closer to the soft fabric of his blazer.

“Sweet dreams Y/N,” he whispered before you went inside.

That night Marya’s words replayed in your mind and after the exhibit’s reminder on how precious life is you promise yourself to be open to whatever the future brings.

Golden hues begin to creep in on the blue sky ahead of you. As the day starts to wind down the city doesn’t stop. Construction is contained by go-away green walls, with orange and white barricades used to redirect traffic on the busy street. Brake lights flare as the cars begin honking incessantly at the driver going far too slow for the city’s standards.

You see it all from the observation deck of the High Line, accompanied by Bucky and a dozen other people enjoying the first weekend of warmth. You climb the stairs away from the crowd and find a bench beside a small tree.

Bucky opens the box he’s been carrying for a while, revealing two unique and delicious doughnuts that you couldn’t wait to try.

“What’s the square one again?” you asked, licking your lips in anticipation.

“Blackberry jam, and the other is rose I think?” his voice raises with uncertainty. “It looks like a rose at least.”

That it did. The dough was shaped to look like a rose in bloom, with a pink glaze over it. Both were tempting you and the decision was tough but you chose to try the jam filled doughnut first. Hands made sticky by the glaze, you tried your best to pull it apart evenly for Bucky to have an equal share.

Your head nodded in approval as you tasted the sweetness of the jam, mixed perfectly with the airy dough. “This is good,” you said, with your hand hovering over your mouth as you continued to chew through your words.

Bucky brushed his fingers down the corners of his mouth, wiping them on a napkin afterwards and you laughed to yourself. When you were ready Bucky presented the rose shaped doughnut to you as if he was handing over a bouquet.

“How sweet,” you feigned sweetness, bringing your hands together in your best impression of a Disney princess pose.

He let you rip off the first piece of the doughnut, finding it had come apart in a small crescent which was fine, you weren’t sure you could eat much more than that.

Bucky cleared his throat as the glaze melted against his fingers. “So, uh, I have something to ask you.” His nerves stilled momentarily as you hummed in response, sucking the glaze off your fingers.

“Will you be my date to my cousin’s wedding?”

You weren’t sure what he was going to ask but this was definitely not what you imagined. It surprised you especially considering the long list of available women he had to choose from and you couldn’t help but ask him that.

“Them? No. They’re not good enough to bring to a wedding,” he replied.

“Bucky that’s horrible!” you playfully scoffed.

His head dropped down, cringing at his words. “I didn’t mean it like that! I don’t really know any of ‘em that well, and it would be nice to have a friend with me and just have fun.”

Thoughts were running through your head faster than you could process them. Being asked to be Bucky’s date seemed like a dream come true. Yes, despite losing hope in dating after what you went through with Billy it didn’t stop the crush you had on Bucky from growing. But your mind stopped your heart from indulging in its fantasy, reminding you that Bucky legitimately had a long list of women to choose from and you were one of many.

His reasons for asking you made sense, you were very close and sometimes you questioned Bucky’s intentions. He’s never made you feel uncomfortable, it’s the opposite. You’re always comfortable with Bucky, no matter what you do. It feels like what a relationship should be except without the intimacy.

That was the scariest part of it all. Part of you wanted to take a risk and see if there could be something more to what you had but what if it makes you just another girl on his list. A convenient person to sleep with along with the others.

“Please, I already RSVP’d for two,” he begged, staring at you with big eyes as his plush bottom lip protruded out comically far.

The tug of war between your brain and heart wins in favor of the latter as you agreed to go with him, convincing yourself that it’s just a date to a wedding with a friend and nothing more.

PART 16

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes series

702 notes · View notes

kaysayshey · 3 years

Text

lunch break || s. aizawa

Kay's Notes: Hey, y'all. I think this might be my first time ever posting my writing on Tumblr, so bare with me. I've been using mobile exclusively, and let's just say that my theme is going to be a work in progress. If there is anything you as a reader would like me to change in either tagging or formatting, please let me know! I'm always open to comments, suggestions, critiques, whatever. This work is edited from an OC x Aizawa fanfic that I am working on. I'll be writing more reader insert type works in the upcoming months, as I now have an embarrassingly long list of them.

Summary: Aizawa and Y/N decided to meet up for lunch. That sounds simple enough, right? Ha, wrong. Lunch for two turns into lunch for one.

Warnings: AFAB reader, NSFW, minors DNI. Non-established relationship, oral (f! receiving), praise, slightly insecure reader near the end. Reader is a hero and has a quirk, but it is not defined.

The hellions were too much. Administering the written portion of the final exam had Shouta questioning his choice in career path, if he was being frank. How some of his students had passed the entrance examinations was beyond him at this point, and the thought of grading them sent a chill through his body despite the day's heat.

Despite the impending horror that was Kaminari Denki's handwriting and subsequent answers, Aizawa had a small smile on his face as he made his way to Y/N's apartment. Their last encounter had him yearning for more, anything to learn more about the angel that had graced his presence.

How could he even describe it? She had been nothing like his expectations, instead defying them one by one. Snarky in the best ways, quick-witted enough to leave him holding back chortles. Powerful enough to keep almost any other hero on their toes. Gorgeous, too gorgeous. And she had admitted feelings to him? What was there left to say? He felt honored to be attempting, well, whatever it was they were calling their relationship. Kisses and lingering touches be damned.

"Meet me for lunch after the finals? I'd be more than happy to cook for you at my place."

And meet Y/N for lunch he would.

She had left her door unlocked, obviously expecting him. But when Shouta made his way through the foyer of her apartment, Y/N was nowhere to be seen. Not in the living room, not in the kitchen. What happened to lunch?

“Oh, Shouta…”

There was no chance in hell. He had to keep every muscle in his body taut so as not to sprint to her bedroom, the stiffening of his member almost instant. It took all of his willpower to casually make his way to her room, the door wide open.

That little minx. She was laid out on her bed completely bare, hair splayed beautifully beneath her. Her back arched as she rubbed slow circles over her clit, slick all the way down to her mid-thigh. Another breathy gasp escaped her; her eyes squeezed shut as she moaned out his name once more.

He couldn’t help himself from slowly making his way to the edge of her bed, unraveling his capture weapon as he walked. “Kitten, is this all for me?”

Y/N's eyes shot open immediately. Those incredible breasts were on display for him, finally. Her thighs clenched together over her hand, blocking him from viewing anymore of her dripping folds.

“I – I thought you’d be later,” she gasped, snaking her free arm over her chest.

“I’m glad I’m not.” The words came out in a murmur as he pulled his top off in one fluid motion, dark eyes taking in every inch of her form. Achingly slowly, he kneeled onto the bed, one hand creeping up her side, relishing in the soft skin beneath his fingertips. He moved to grasp her chin in his hands, forcing her to meet his lust-blown gaze. He gently pressed a kiss to her lips, sighing when she responded so eagerly.

“Who knew I’d be having you for lunch, angel?” At his question, Y/N moaned, the very phrase sending goosebumps all over her body. The slightest heave of her breathing sent her chest up closer to him, and God be damned if he wasn’t desperate to pull every part of it between his lips.

“Sho-Shouta, please,” she stammered, her head rolling to one side of the pillow. He took that as an invitation to press his lips to her neck, nipping lightly at her skin, groaning at the sound of her voice. God, this was too much. He was suckling at her skin like a man starved, ravenous for her crying out for him. But he knew better than to push too far. He’d make her beg for it. Not just today, but for as long as he could get away with it. Until she couldn’t go a single day without pleading for him to fill her completely, to give in to her wanton need for them to become one.

“Easy, kitten. I’ll take care of you.” Shouta’s voice was low and gravelly as he moved further down her skin, lips endlessly exploring every part of her flesh. He stopped at her collarbone; another suckle that had her bucking her hips, leaving a lovely bruise in his wake. To her sternum, lazily licking between her breasts. Y/N heaved a sigh, running a hand through his hair and subsequently whining when he wouldn’t move. A soft tug to his locks made him smirk, eyes flashing up, mesmerized by the expression on her face. Her eyes were half-lidded and those pouty lips were plump and parted. He could only imagine how it would feel to watch as her lips wrapped around his cock, to have those beautiful eyes staring up at him from where she was settled on her knees.

Finally, he allowed himself to wrap his lips around one perky nipple, giving it a quick suck before leisurely stroking it with his tongue. Shouta slid a hand down to gently push her thighs apart, anxious to feel her heat for himself. God, she was overwhelmingly wet. How could he keep himself from smiling when he knew he was turning her on so well? As he languidly continued to work his tongue around her breast, he inched a finger to her folds, chuckling softly when she arched at the touch.

“You’re ready for me, aren’t you?” Shouta whispered the words, pleased when she gasped out as he rubbed a soft circle over her clit, the lightest touch to keep her on edge.

“Ba-baby, please,” she groaned, releasing her vice-like grip on his hair when he moved from her side to kneel at the edge of the bed. It was followed by a squeak as he pulled her by the hips to meet him, keeping her thighs spread for him to enjoy. The hums she emitted were low, interrupted by soft whispers, his name a prayer between her lips. But in Shouta’s eyes, her body was a temple, and he was here to worship it, eager to finally have a taste of heaven.

His tempo was torture, agonizingly slow. The up and down of his thumb over her clit kept her rolling her hips, wordlessly begging him for more.

And when she looked down, the smirk he gave her was brash, an arrogance she would never have expected to see on Shouta’s usually stoic face. But the moment he gave her one long, achingly slow lick from her entrance to her clit, she learned why he was so cocky. He knew that he was going to leave her breathless. He repeated the movement for what felt like forever, leaving Y/N running her hands through his hair once more. Those easy strokes evolved into Shouta focusing his attention to her clit, lapping at it greedily.

Shouta couldn’t get enough of her. The taste of her, the feeling of her hands keeping him exactly where she wanted him. The way she would moan out softly, following it up with a whine when his licks turned into soft sucks. He fervently slipped a finger inside of her, curving it as he slowly pumped.

“More, more, please.” Her mewls were desperate, and he chuckled against her folds, obliging her. The movements were deliberate, his pace steady as he continued to thrust into her, reaching the spot that made her groan. Looking up again, he was mesmerized by the carnal desire in her eyes, by the way she deliciously rolled her hips against him. And as much as he yearned to just take her then and there, Shouta kept his focus on her pleasure. He gradually increased the pace of his thrusts, continuing to suck on her swollen nub.

Her walls started clenching, and Y/N’s breathing grew more labored with every minute.

“Shouta, wait, I'm going to -” Her words were strangled in her throat, and he had no problem ignoring them. He wouldn’t wait. Not when she was writhing from his touch, from the way he devoured her. No, he wouldn’t stop, not when she was on the edge. This was what he had been aching for. Shouta added a third slender finger into her folds, groaning as she started to flutter around him. Her hands were gripping the bed sheets like she was afraid they’d fly away, and the movement of her hips was erratic.

He held one of her thighs down with his free hand and thrust into her furiously, knowing just how close she was.

“Oh my God, Shouta, I -”

“Come for me, angel.”

Her walls spasmed around his fingers, and those luscious hips lifted off of the bed, furiously writhing against his hand. Y/N’s moans were the most beautiful music he had ever heard. Shouta watched in awe as she came, keeping his pace consistent until she begged, pleaded for him to slow down, no more, please, Shouta.

Y/N shuddered on the bed, her legs finally closing together when Shouta laid himself next to her, gingerly running his hands through her hair. Gentle kisses against her cheeks, her neck, her forehead. God, she was sacred in his eyes. Those brilliant eyes fluttered open, and a radiant smile graced her lips.

“You’re absolutely divine, Y/N,” he murmured, wrapping an arm around her waist. Her skin was damp to the touch, but he wanted to feel it all the same.

“You can’t say things like that, Shouta. A girl just might believe it.” The words were light, but they held a hint of sorrow behind them. As if she didn’t think he’d ever mean it. He took her chin in one of his hands once more, begging her to meet his eyes. And she did, albeit it begrudgingly.

“Y/N, you are an angel on Earth, and I will make you believe it, whether you like it or not.” A devoted kiss to her lips. He’d remind her every single day until it was ingrained in her – she was incredible.

#kaysayshey #mha #bnha #bnha aizawa #mha aizawa #aizawa x y/n #aizawa x female reader #aizawa shouta #shouta aizawa #hi i'm super anxious to post this #please let me know how you like it!#anywho #stream butter for clear skin #oh god why am i like this

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boop-le-snoot · 4 years

Text

skin starving

tony stark x f!reader fluff. no warnings, just a few f-bombs. touch starved tony’s third person pov. words: 2,5k. no beta because i just really needed to get this off my chest.

recommended music to go with the story: two feet - 'love is a bitch' & 'quick musical doodles'. Or any lo-fi hip-hop radio really.

It started as an itch. At first, a small but bothersome thing, that kept him up at night, steering the already unreasonable hours of wakefulness into dangerous territory. The cold of his bed was unappealing and more often than not, he’d started passing out on the flat surfaces nearest to him: workshop, lab, common room couch, the lazy boy in Bruce’s apartment.

The team noticed, of course, they weren’t blind. They all had been on edge the first few months after Pepper left him. They expected him to act out, lock himself up in his lab or go back to his old habits of boozing and bringing home a different girl every night. And he had tried that, once or twice, but airheaded twenty-somethings weren’t appealing anymore. Most of the time their ass kissing and blatantly flattery annoyed him further into self-loathing abyss. He simply couldn’t step up to be the kind of man they described him to be - it seemed as if every woman on planet Earth had a whole list of expectations he specifically could not meet.

With Thor off planet, not one remaining person on the team was particularly touchy-feely. And that was the thing with Tony Stark: as an engineer, as a mechanic, he made his way through the world hands-first, every approach he had was hands-on. During late nights and early mornings, he laid in bed, sleepless and dreamless, desperately refusing to admit his own touch starvation.

Whenever Rogers threw an arm around his shoulders during a particularly successful team bonding activity, it took every ounce of willpower Tony had to not lean into it and purr like a cat. He hadn’t truly forgiven Steve for his cold, cruel words of criticism shortly after Pepper’s departing. He wasn’t going to chummy up to a man who thought him selfish, opportunistic and self-absorbed.

Tony became irritable and withdrawn. He simultaneously craved and avoided even the casual, friendlier attention his teammates gave him on a daily basis. His usual snark became that much more biting, having caused several people to storm out of team meetings.

On a cold autumn morning, Tony had found his way at the tower’s Starbucks on the employee floor. He had squeezed a generous five hours of restless sleep and he was sick of the plain black coffee in his kitchen. A spontaneous desire for something sweet and creamy and caffeinated led him to the place in line at the cafeteria, only a few early birds ahead of him.

Tony’s brain was hazy as it had been past few weeks, dull from the lack of rest and the hyperfixation of his own skin feeling alien to him. For once, he wasn’t typing away on his StarkPhone as he usually did to avoid being bothered; Tony stared straight ahead, unseeing, nothing but white noise in his usually racing brain.

Two women stood in front of him and he couldn’t help but overhear a part of their conversation.

“… Are you really horny or just lonely or touch-starved, though? I mean, Tinder? It’s not really your style.”

“Eh, I dunno. Probably the second but it’s not like men go on Tinder to find a cuddle buddy.”

“Well, maybe? I’ve heard about arrangements like that.”

“No offense, babe, but it’s probably kids in their early twenties. Those gen-z’s, babe, are weird. I’m not really up to date on all of that.”

The topic of the conversation was what piqued Tony’s interest; the world liked rubbing salt into his wounds and hysterically laugh at his misfortune. Bleary-eyed, he briefly scanned the two women: both appeared to be interns or junior techs in his company, evident by the purple employee badges hanging from their bags.

“So what are you going to do?” One woman asked the other as their turn to order took Tony one step closer to obtaining his desired caffeine.

“Unless someone normal magically appears with an offer of no-strings-attached, good ole’ snuggle fest, I guess I’m getting dicked down on Saturday,” The other replied with a teasing tone. The lack of excitement in the last part of the sentence was obvious.

“Gross,” The first one shook her head and hurriedly rattled off her order to the barista who looked about as disgruntled as Tony felt.

Hours and three coffees later, Tony’s overactive brain was still stuck on that woman from the cafeteria. Her back, her purse stuffed full of colorful manila folders, her neatly gathered hair - Tony Stark had nearly perfect memory and he remembered every single detail despite his brain fog. Objectively, she was attractive, no more no less than a different dozen of women he’d seen at any point in his life before. So why was he hung up on her?

It didn’t take him a long time to find her file, faster than he’d liked to admit. Manually sorting through hundreds of interns, lab technicians and various second-tier employees wasn’t exactly considered productive but with Pepper and her nagging out of the picture, Tony could afford to slack off a little bit.

So he found her name and her e-mail address, skimmed over her performance report with satisfaction, finding her to be a busy bee in the 90-th percentile. Her superiors considered her trustworthy, hard-working and communicative, all good traits.

Pepper’s absence meant he’d have no one to cover his ass should he get slapped with a harassment suit; however, he was the Tony Stark after all. He had more money that he’d cared to count and an army of lawyers at his disposal 24/7.

Amidst the jumbled mess of wires, circuit boards, tablets, empty coffee cups and the occasional piece of paper, Tony typed up an e-mail to the woman sharing his… Condition.

“I heard you and your friend talking at Starbucks. I could use a cuddle buddy. Wine and Netflix at my place? What’s your takeout preference?”

No. That came off way too creepy, like he was some kind of a dirty eavesdropper.

He contemplated some more, typing up and erasing multiple e-mails with various proposals: his penthouse, her place, a three Michelin star restaurant, a walk in the park. Almost all of it screamed ‘date’, like he’d drag her off to bed the very moment an opportunity wouldn’t present itself. It wasn’t so: Tony Stark, the playboy genius, had his dick firmly tucked into his pants. The thought of fucking her crossed his mind only briefly, quickly being chased away by the thought of her fingers running through his hair. Her warm, soft body in his arms. Just laying on his couch, eyes closed, reveling in each other’s arms.

Tony hit send on the least obnoxious option. He baited his breath, clicking his fingers in anticipation as the message showed itself to having been delivered.

“Mary, is this you trying to be funny? Stark is going to fire you if he finds out you’re impersonating him to stop your friend from going on a questionable date. Grow up.” Came the very prompt reply, ending with a short string of angry emojis. Tony could totally trust a person who used emojis unironically and generously.

“For the record, I wouldn’t be mad if somebody pretended to be me for the sake of saving their cute friend from a creep. The problem would be making it look credible.” Tony typed up the answer without thinking, quickly snapping a picture of himself holding the Starbucks cup with his name written on it, throwing his usual sloppy peace sign. He attached it to the email and hit send.

“WTF” Came the reply not a minute afterwards. He let it sink in, giving the woman some time to gather her wits. She did not disappoint. “Okay, even if we pretend this is real - which I doubt - what’s in it for you? If you heard our conversation, you surely know my stance on the matter.”

“I’m always glad to prove you wrong. I’m a genius - comes with the territory.” Tony simply couldn’t resist adding a generous dose of snark. “You’re welcome to meet me after clocking out. Use the private elevator, my AI will beam you up.”

The reply took a considerably long amount of time, seeing as previously, she typed back rather quickly. “Please don’t be a creepy rapist, Scotty. Fingers crossed.” Tony managed to almost break his stylus twice. His hands shook, and he had to tell himself to breathe - still, he laughed at the clever way she replied.

Several more hours later, during which Tony had nearly paced a hole through various floors on the residential side of the tower, he took a quick shower, dressed in a flattering but comfortable designer sweatpants and polo combo and made himself at home on the obscenely large living room sofa on his own, private penthouse floor.

He was up and running towards the elevator when Friday’s voice notified him of the woman entering the elevator on the employee floor. Tony tousled his hair, adjusted his glasses, fiddled with the drawstring of his pants.

The woman was wearing casual office wear, pants and a loose blouse, a lab coat loosely draped over her arm and her purse hanging off the shoulder on a thin strap. Her hair was loose now, a little frizzy as if she continuously ran her hands through it. Tony quietly rejoiced at not being the only nervous one.

Clever eyes scanned the room with unhurried interest before finally landing on him. “Not too shabby, if I say so myself,” The corners of her mouth tilted in an attempt at a smile, it was obvious she was studying him.

“Thanks, I try my best,” Tony smirked. Humble he was not. “So, how do you want to do this?”

“I see a comfortable couch,” She looked to be grateful for being given the opportunity to lead this interaction. “Let’s park our behinds on it, bicker for ten minutes about a movie choice and settle on one none of us really like. Then we can tell each other our no-no zones and, well, yeah,” She started out confidently. Probably practiced in the elevator. But towards the end, her shyness took over.

For Tony, it was kind of cute. A nice change from suck-ups that flocked him at every social gathering in hopes of getting something out of him. The woman that had tossed her bag carelessly on the far end of the couch and untucked her blouse looked and felt like the exact opposite of those people. She looked willing to give.

Tony sat next to her, keeping a couple of inches of free space between them. “Food preferences? Food allergies?” He asked, tapping the food delivery application.

“Nope, and I will eat just about anything.” He felt more than saw her side-eyeing him. Both of them were jittery. So uncharacteristic for Tony, to be blushing and stammering like a high school boy. Sex was easy, but intimacy? Complex. It was addictive and eventually, painful.

Movie decisions were surprisingly easy and she said so. They settled on a Tarantino classic, an old flick neither of them had watched in a long time. As the discussion progressed, Tony used his wits to find out more about her without making it seem like an interrogation. He had run a background check on the woman and her family but those only went that far, besides, it was a great opportunity to practice the tips Natasha had shared with him at one point or another. Being friends with spies had it’s perks.

They ate their food until their bellies were full. A comfortable, relaxing stupor, being warm from the inside out.

Tony noticed when the woman spoke, she spoke with her hands. She had caught herself grasping his forearm multiple times when they’d got more passionate about their discussion. And what Tony loved the most was that she refused to apologize. He saw a kindred soul in the woman; quiet until something struck her fancy. Then, she became a whirlwind of ideas and opinions.

In no time, it became a natural action to extend his arm and wrap it around her shoulders, reclining backwards. There was little grace in laying belly-up like a dead fish but the woman didn’t seem to mind. Watching him out of the corner of her eye, she laid down sideways, throwing a leg over one of his own.

Her palm traced the outline of his arc reactor when something on the screen caught her in a moment of intense interest. Tony preferred to avoid the cursed thing - scars around it definitely did not do any favour to his aging, marked body - but he found himself exhaling the tension when it was obvious the woman really did not care. An occasional quiet hum of satisfaction was the only noise that came from her: he noticed the sound escaped her lips every time his thumb began fiddling with the sleeve of her blouse and rubbed against her arm.

He was quite content. It was warm, he was surrounded by so much warmth.

The hug was mutual when she left home, both of them comfortable with the gesture for people who had met in a rather unconventional way.

She started coming over a couple of times a week, a quiet evening of the best takeout in NYC and (mostly) interesting movies. A solace, always a single e-mail away.

Tony saw her in the cafeteria once or twice; he appreciated the brief, tiny secretive grin she gave him out of her friend’s eyesight. She never approached him. He was grateful for that. He didn’t want to deal with all the drama and all the fuss surrounding incidents between him and his employees. It was nobody’s business what any of them did after clocking out - and him and his cuddle buddy, they weren’t even fucking, for Thor’s sake.

Maybe they would get there someday. Or maybe they won’t. It was only now for Tony. The rare free Saturday night he had, he truly took a vacation from all the bullshit and lured her in with promises of very expensive wine, her favourite New York style pizza and the willingness to entertain watching a few of those funny YouTube videos she liked.

They did watch them and Tony didn’t mind. He stepped over the irrational fear and the initial discomfort and curled up around her, hiding his face in the soft cotton of her worn hoodie, his own breath tickling his face in warm puffs. The hand running through his hair was tender like it never was with Pepper - his ex was far too preoccupied to baby her grown-up boyfriend. But the woman moulded to his body like an extension of himself was happy to do so. Tony’s hair was longer now and it glided perfectly along the woman’s palms.

His heart was steady, thumping in his ears, overshadowing the noises coming from the TV. He exhaled and felt her other hand begin tracing circles on his back, as if she saw the stress and the bitterness leave his body with every caress, every brush of their bodies. Maybe she did?

He held onto her, held her back like she’d held him. Safekeeping the warmth inside of him. Guarding his peace.

#tony stark x reader #tony stark x y/n #tony stark fluff #tony stark feels #bun writes #bun writes: drabbles

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