#fanfic series

[canthelpit0]

Enemies (With Benefits) PT5

Pairing: Cold!Chris x Reader

Wordcount: 3.2k+

Summary: Chris and reader have always been enemies ever since they’ve known each other. neither knew why they had this burning feeling in their gut. So one day they decide to fuck it out. Until, eventually doing it regularly.

Warnings: Smut, Fluff, no angst, pet names (sweetheart, ma, honey, etc), nickname (Cherry), morning sex, oral m!receiving, p in v, creampie, implied cockwarming, happy ending. That’s all?? Short (bad) ending

(A/N: it was heavily inspired by this request. Sorry if this is ass or a bad ending. Tho I hadn’t even intended this to be a series at all. Thank you guys for 350+ followers. I love you all and I appreciate it.)

PT1 PT2 PT3 PT4 FINAL

Me and Chris had hooked up a few times this week.

It was ‘normal’ for us. Yet I noticed that it started to feel a lot more intimate and sensual.

It didn’t just feel like plain sex.

He started to give me aftercare afterward. Treating me with more care than ever before.

He wasn’t treating me like meat anymore. And it was confusing.

I feel like we’ve done way more positions in the past week rather than the entirety of this arrangement. Before it used to just be doggy, cowgirl, and the occasional, very rare, missionary.

But in the past week, we’ve done a lot of different types of missionary. And everything we did felt intimate.

Everything went back to normal. Or at least how normal it could be.

All his snide remarks didn’t seem as menacing and as disrespectful as they used to be.

I was laying wrapped up in Chris’ arms. We had a passionate night yesterday, and he cleaned me up and stayed over after.

He never stays over.

Ever since the day that we had made up a that day a week ago, he’d been almost, nicer..

I started to stir awake. I toss and turn slightly shifting. I open my eyes slightly staring at the wall opposite my bed.

I feel warm. Chris’ arms are wrapped around me tightly as he keeps sleeping. He was snoring slightly his face pressed into the side of my neck.

I at first relax into his touch, until I realize the hardness poking my ass.

Was he hard right now?

Christ, what kind of dreams was this kid having?

I shift in place pushing my ass back into him to tease him. And he actually whines under his breath.

An idea pops into my mind.

Usually, I wouldn’t do this, but who wouldn’t like to wake up to head, right?

I turn around shifting in his arms. I try not to move too fast to not alert him and wake him up.

I wiggle out of his soft grip, listening to the way he huffs under his breath trying to pull me back. But in his half-asleep state, he can’t really.

I push his hand off of me and gently push him back on his back.

“Fuck” I sigh under my breath. I look back at Chris’ sleeping face. The way he looks so calm... I wish he’d look this calm around me when he’s awake.

He was usually always angry. He always looked pissed off at me. Though in the past few days, he’s been nicer. I swear he has been, or maybe I’m just tripping.

I glance over to my bedside table where an alarm clock is sitting. It’s 5 am. Why the fuck am I awake.

I sit, my legs curled in so I’m sitting on them. I look back down at Chris. He breaths out gently his lips parting slightly.

I glance over his entire body. My eyes trail down his bare chest to his crotch area.

Since we had fucked yesterday night, he was only in his boxers, and I was only in my panties.

My eyes lock on the tent in his boxers. I lick my lips. For a second I don't do anything, just watching him breathe calmly.

I smile to myself shaking my head. I sit up pulling my panties down. I slip them off and throw them away.

I carefully climb over one of Chris’ legs and settle between them.

I trail my nails over his thighs up to the very top. I watch his body shudder at the touch of my manicured nails, a low chuckle leaving my lips.

My nails are a long almond shape. They’re not too long though. But I know that me trailing it over his skin like this feels good.

Chris stirs in his sleep. I trail my hand up to his clothed crotch. I start to gently, and slowly palm him.

He lets out soft whiny breaths that almost sound like low moans.

He lets out a soft breath opening his eyes slightly. I watch as Chris sits up on his arms lazily. His eyes are droopy, he stares down at me.

“You want me to help with this?” I chuckle my hand trailing over his crotch again.

His breath shudders slightly. His eyes are lazily open, he blinks slowly.

“Please.” He breathes out.

“Lay back down.”

He does as I say, not bothering to argue about it. He just lays down with a plop.

He lets out a breath when I start tugging down his boxers. I pull them off and unceremoniously throw them to the floor.

Chris has his eyes closed again, hissing slightly when the cold air hits his half-hard length.

“So good for me yeah,” I say softly under my breath. I cup his length gently. I look at the way my manicured nails look around him. “Stay still for me sweetheart.”

He does just that, only ever softly letting out breaths.

I start to slowly jerk him off. I listen to his low breathy moans and whines as I do so.

I lean down leaving wet slow pecks on his leaking tip. The contact causes Chris to whine again.

“Cherry, fuck” he breaths out. He was lying comfortably, his head on the pillow. “Please.”

I chuckle at the whiny tone. I slowly sit up peering down at Chris. He looks so cute like this. I let go of his dick listening to him whine dramatically at the loss of contact.

My eyes lock with his half-lidded ones. I lean down my lips capturing his in a sweet kiss.

“Just shush and let me do this, right,” I say looking down at him.

He huffs a soft laugh making me smile in response.

I lean back down again, making myself comfortable between his legs once more.

My hand cups his member again, my lips softly wrapping around the head. I swirl my tongue around it making sure to swallow all the pre cum.

Chris just hums in approval, occasionally letting out soft whines and moans. Everything he did was laced with an air of sleepiness, he hadn’t even fully woken up yet.

I reach back grabbing my hair into a makeshift ponytail so it wouldn’t be all over the place. I start to gently and slowly bob my head. While I look up at him through my eyelashes.

Chris lets out a shaky sigh But eventually sits up on his forearms to gaze down at me sucking him off.

I start to move more intensely, starting to jerk off what I couldn’t fit in my mouth, feeling his dick hit the back of my throat occasionally.

He tenses, his breaths getting shakier as he watches my every move with lazy eyes. Chris licks his lips. He was looking down at me with such adoration, our eyes staying locked.

I pull off with a pop making him groan under his breath. He throws his head back, still leaning on his forearms to keep him up.

I shift, now hovering over him. Chris lets out a shaky breath feeling me move. He opens his eyes, picking his head back up and staring back into my eyes.

I start to slowly sink down on his dick. Slowly but surely taking as much of it as I can. His hands instinctively go to my hips to help me grind into him.

“So pretty” he breaths out. His eyes are focused on me, my eyes locked with his.

I put both of my hands on his chest, resting my weight on my palms. I start to thrust myself back into him A little faster but still gentle.

The urge to say I love you was so crazy right now. I don’t even know why I wanted to say it. I just tend to say it when I’m giddy or when I feel good.

I usually only say I love you to my close friends. Only when i want to tell them how much I appreciate them. But that’s about all… so why would I want to say it to Chris when we’re not even friends?

I just hold it back and tell myself that it’s my impending orgasm making me emotional. I try to refrain from talking at all, for fear that I would let it slip.

“Chris” I breathe out still slowly rocking my hips against his.

“Yes ma?” He breathes out between low grunts.

“Fuck, you’re so good.” I whine my tone more pitched than intended.

“Oh am I honey?” He chuckles his tone more sweet than I’ve ever heard it.

I sit down for a moment, stopping the minor movements my hips had been making. He breathes out shakily and then looks back at me.

“Why’d you stop?” He asks with a huff.

And to be honest I don’t even know. I put a hand on my lower stomach gently pressing down. I could practically feel the slight bulge he was causing.

“Fuck I..” I trail off. I lean down slightly putting my face into the side of his neck. He chuckles wrapping one arm tenderly around my waist.

“God, you’re just so-“ I pause again. I left a small peck on his neck where my head was resting. “I could sleep like this,” I mumble.

He lets out a soft laugh at that. He wasn’t expecting that, but he also wasn’t mocking.

“I get that cherry, but would you like to get off right now?” He says lowly. I grumble in agreement, slightly starting to grind my body against his.

“Come on you got this ma.” He encourages leaving a light tap on my hip.

I lift myself back up again. He holds out his open hand for me to take, offering his moral support.

I take it intertwining my hand with his. I start to gently bounce on him again. My walls cling to his length harshly, as if trying to suck him back in.

“So tight for me ma” he groans closing his eyes briefly. I look at the scene in front of me, the way his eyes look shut tight, and the way he’s lying there calmly, his messy bedhead resting on his forehead.

This feels so euphoric.

His hand on my hips guides my movements making me pick up pace more and slam myself down on him.

“Just like that cherry,” he breaths out between light groans looking up at me. “Doing so well for me honey.” He murmurs.

The praise sends butterfly’s to my core. I love knowing that I’m doing something good. But beyond that, anything that Chris says to me makes me feel tingly.

And I don’t know when it shifted from anger to giddiness but it had.

I just felt so overwhelmingly happy.

I whine incoherent words of affirmation, Chris just chuckling at some of them.

My pace starts to speed up, as it becomes less and less controlled and more erratic by the second.

Chris bites his lips to hold himself back from groaning at the sight. Just from how much we hooked up he knew I was close. And he wasn’t wrong.

“Come on my dick” he says his breaths harsh. He watches me with lazy lust filled eyes.

I slam myself back down on him one last time feeling myself clench tightly around Chris.

He smiles at the way I squeeze his hand.

He lets me sit there for a second to get myself together.

And once I do, and my breathing gets more even again, he pulls me off of him gently. He flips us around so he’s on top of me and between my legs.

“You’re so gorgeous.” He breathes out, his tone oh so gentle.

Instead of thrusting back in, he grabs one of my ankles, pulling my leg over to my other. I oblige just letting him position me sideways.

I grab the pillow under my head and put an arm under it to make it more comfortable.

His hand trails over my back and side sensually. “You good?” He asks lowly.

“Yeah.” We were back to whispering now, and all of this just felt a tad bit too loving.

He cups his length sliding it between my folds, before pushing it back into my cunt.

My free hand goes to my ass, I simply put it there as Chris starts to gently rock his hips back and forth.

This doesn’t feel like sex, this feels like love.

Hell, we’ve never even had morning sex before. This was a first.

“So good for me mama.” He breaths out his tone low and soothing.

My head stays half-buried in the pillow, my mouth slightly parted and my eyes closed.

“More please” I whine. I hear Chris’ amused chuckle at that. He starts to thrust in deeper but still keeps his thrusts slow and sensual. One of his hands stays on my thigh the other one on the small of my back to hold me in place with a firm but not harsh grip.

I open my eyes briefly to look at him from the corner of my eyes. But the way those sensual thrusts were hitting every right spot made my eyes roll back and my soft breaths come out whiny.

I tried to focus my eyes on him as best as I could without them rolling back.

“Please come inside,” I ask in my best sweet tone.

Chris raises an eyebrow again. I remember way back in the day when he would refuse to do that with everything he had, saying ‘he wants to take no risks.’

But now he just smiles down at me and smiles nodding.

“Relax ma.” He chuckles rubbing my back soothingly. “Close your eyes and let me do this, ‘right.” He smiles.

I comply to his words, closing my eyes. I feel him start to thrust into me again. Still slow and sensual. A few small whines and moans leave my lips.

He starts to pick up the pace, the sound of skin clapping echoes in the room. I let out a few breathy whines, listening to his soft and low grunts.

I move my hand to my clit starting to gently rub it. Chris picks up pace even more now, chasing his own high.

And once I feel his breath get harsh and his pace more erratic I know he’s close and so am I.

“Good girl.” He coos in a whisper. His tone is soothing and sounds like silk to my ears. The sweet praise he mumbles into the mostly quiet room only makes me clench more.

I hit my climax a bit before him again. I clench around his dick making him groan. He gives me one last thrust before burying himself in me, Shooting his spurts of cum deep into my cunt.

I try to catch my breath, My eyes staying closed.

I feel him rub at the small of my back again. But instead of pulling out, he lays down behind me, not making a move to pull off.

He holds my body close to his, and I readjust. Chris’ arm goes under my head, his other arm wrapping around me to keep me close.

Once I catch my breath I break the silence with a soft chuckle. “Not gonna pull out?” I tease.

“No, you said you could sleep like this?” He challenges playfully.

I chuckle back in response.

“So, sleep like this cherry. Don’t you feel all full and warm?” He asks, lightly teasing.

★ ★ ★

So that’s how we woke up today.

Now it was after school already. Time had flown by so fast. We got up, cleaned up, and got to school. And now school was already over for the day.

I laid on my back. Simply staring at the blank ceiling. This was the bed that I woke up with Chris in today…

My thoughts trail off. And no matter what I try to distract myself with, I always end up thinking about Chris.

I don’t know what that was. But I liked waking up next to Chris.

I need to talk to him.

I sit up and walk to my mirror. looking into it I fix my hair. Looking to see if my makeup was still in place.

I hadn’t changed yet so I was basically ready to go.

I grab my phone and put it in the back pocket of my jeans.

I start to trod down the stairs fast. I take my car keys and swing open the door.

But right as I go to step out I see Chris standing there his hand raised as if he was going to knock on the door before I swung it open.

I freeze in my step pausing. I do a double take and so does Chris.

“Chris?”

“Cherry?”

We both pause looking at each other.

But before I know it my arms wrap around his neck and I pull him in for a passionate kiss.

He kisses back with just as much vigor. His hands go to my waist pulling me closer to him.

When he licks at my lips I gladly part them for him, feeling his tongue explore my mouth.

After a while we pull apart for air, our mouths still connected by a string of saliva.

My hand trails down his arm until I grab his wrist and pull him inside. I close the door unceremoniously. “We should talk.” I breathe out looking at the floor.

I feel Chris’ hand cup my jaw making me look back at him. He connects our lips again, and I sigh into the kiss. It feels strangely comforting.

He pulls away. “Talk to me Cherry.”

I look back up at Chris. I swallow at his tone. He looked so kind now.

What had changed?

“Chris, I-” I pause thinking of how to word this.

“I like hooking up with you, but I also like being close to you and talking to you. And..” I trail off.

He looked at me for a moment to see if I’d continue talking.

“I like you too.” He says under his breath finishing my thought.

I pause looking up at him. “You do?”

And with that he is once again leaning down and giving me a passionate kiss. It’s close-mouthed but it’s more than enough to convey his love for me.

He pulls away and I look back up at him.

I try to hold back the smile growing on my face. But the way he was smiling at me was making me all giddy.

I break out in giggles and so does he. I lean more into him muffling my laughter with his chest.

After a moment of laughing my smile stays firmly on my face.

“I love you so much”

And despite love being a strong word, it feels like the only thing that could describe this.

He looks at me with such adoration, affection, and… well, love.

He used to be so cold, but it looks like his anger for me melted away with all the heated things we’d been doing.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” He asks sweetly his toothy grin on display.

“Of course.”

Masterlist

A/N: I have so many things that I still want to write (I have a whole list lmao). but I really loved writing this. my req + asks are open if you wanna send me something <33

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin , @chrissgirlsstuff , @stunza , @whicked-hazlatwhore , @sturniooolos , @ecliphttlunar , @orangeypepsi , @klaus223492 , @char112244 , @sst7niolo , @slut4chriss , @mattsturniololoverr , @th3-3d3n-g4rd3n , @st7rnioioss , @t1llysblogs , @nonat-111 , @blahbel668 , @rockstarchr1s , @sturnsintrouble , @nayveetbhh

#Spotify #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x y/n #chris sturniolo x you #chris x reader #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #christopher sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #smut #christopher sturniolo x reader smut #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo fanfic #fanfic series #fluff

[incognit0slut]

Right Kind of Wrong

Main masterlist

Genre: Romance, crime, mystery, suspense Warnings: 18+ explicit sexual content (MINORS DNI), graphic details of murders, mentions of suicide, mentions of SA Status: Complete

Reader never thought she would be involved in a murder investigation when she suddenly became a witness. She also never thought she’d encounter her one-night-stand again—the awkward stranger who isn’t exactly that good in bed… Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong.

But the more he gets entangled with the beautiful stranger, the more he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

a/n: I realized I've never made a proper masterlist for this series. All the parts are complete so if you haven't read it yet, you can enjoy it in one sitting :)

Part one Y/n and Spencer face the aftermath of their tryst.

Part two Spencer’s late-night endeavor is teased by his colleagues as a new case arises.

Part three She gets involved in a murder case she least expected as a familiar face greets her.

Part four Y/n and Spencer’s unexpected reunion ends in a quarrel.

Part five NSFW Spencer’s lack of experience with female anatomy is educated by her.

Part six NSFW She is taken aback as the student becomes the master.

Part seven She finds herself in a compromising position.

Part eight NSFW Spencer and Y/n get caught up in their newfound bliss.

Part nine A shocking call has Spencer questioning her involvement in the case.

Part ten She finds herself as a pivotal lead in the case.

Part Eleven Her involvement in the case becomes more crucial than she lets on.

Part Twelve Spencer gets closer to the truth while she feels suffocated by her situation.

Part Thirteen NSFW Seeking pleasure leads them down an unforeseen path.

Part Fourteen Spencer and the team face a setback in the investigation.

Part Fifteen Spencer is determined to find her whereabouts.

Part Sixteen Spencer is faced with a dangerous confrontation.

Part Seventeen Spencer and Y/n try to outsmart the situation.

Part Eighteen Spencer and Y/n resolve their feelings.

Part Nineteen NSFW Spencer finally takes her out on a date.

Part Twenty NSFW Despite everything, she found herself feeling happy.

Epilogue

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencerreid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x oc #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #fanfic #fanfic series #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x female reader #Right Kind of Wrong

[beforeimdeceased]

CRYBABY! - (E.W) MASTERLIST, COMPLETED!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ edit 1 & edit 2

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ seattle revival

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ you’ve had a seriously bad day, and now you’re stuck with the shittiest person you’ve ever met while you wait for your friends to get home. (fluff) pt1

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ once again, you’re left alone with the crude (turned kind?) ellie fucking williams. (smut) pt2

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ she’s the same ellie she’s always been. (angst) pt3

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ the paparazzi are everywhere, all snapping shots of you as you rush into the band’s car. (angst) pt4

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ who the fuck is abby? (angst) pt5

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ you’ve had enough at this point. (angst) (fluff) (hurt) pt6

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ forget how to feel. (angst) (smut) (hurt) pt7

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ you weren’t you anymore. (angst) (fluff) (ending) pt8

#bunnie can speak? ☆ #ellie williams #・❥・ bun’s sweet ellie #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams imagine #mean!ellie #fanfic series #tlou fanfic #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams x you

[teenidlegirl]

꣑୧ ݁.﹒𝓜𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝓜𝐄 𝓗𝐀𝐋𝐅𝐖𝐀𝐘 .ᐟ

ઇ ˚ ݂ ֹ ꒰ miguel o’hara 𝓍 fem!civilian!reader ꒱ ! ۟ ׅ ♡

˒ ♡ ៸៸𓂃  𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚  ˖  ׁ ⁩ .ᐟ  you’re just an ordinary civilian of nueva york. however, you never believed you would become friends with the city’s acclaimed spider-man. over time, you two develop a special connection. but there is a price for being close with superheroes. how does it end for you both?

˒ ♡ ៸៸𓂃  𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕  ˖  ׁ ⁩ .ᐟ  strangers to friends to lovers, eventual romance, eventual smut, grumpy and sassy, slow burn, fluff, angst, violence, hispanic/latina!reader

꒰ ᘏ₊ ࣪ ꒱ CHAPTER ONE ꗃ₊ ࣪ chaotic encounter

꒰ ᘏ₊ ࣪ ꒱ CHAPTER TWO ꗃ₊ ࣪ coincidence

꒰ ᘏ₊ ࣪ ꒱ CHAPTER THREE ꗃ₊ ࣪ a checkup and coffee

꒰ ᘏ₊ ࣪ ꒱ CHAPTER FOUR ꗃ₊ ࣪ stirring proposition

꒰ ᘏ₊ ࣪ ꒱ CHAPTER FIVE ꗃ₊ ࣪ modern atlantis

꒰ ᘏ₊ ࣪ ꒱ CHAPTER SIX ꗃ₊ ࣪ the perfect storm

꒰ ᘏ₊ ࣪ ꒱ CHAPTER SEVEN ꗃ₊ ࣪ a lonely night of scars

꒰ ᘏ₊ ࣪ ꒱ CHAPTER EIGHT ꗃ₊ ࣪ flowers and puppies

꒰ ᘏ₊ ࣪ ꒱ CHAPTER NINE ꗃ₊ ࣪ biding our time

꒰ ᘏ₊ ࣪ ꒱ CHAPTER TEN ꗃ₊ ࣪ the shifting ground

꒰ ᘏ₊ ࣪ ꒱ CHAPTER ELEVEN ꗃ₊ ࣪ hidden truths

꒰ ᘏ₊ ࣪ ꒱ CHAPTER TWELVE ꗃ₊ ࣪ violent delights

꒰ ᘏ₊ ࣪ ꒱ CHAPTER THIRTEEN ꗃ₊ ࣪ down side of me

꒰ ᘏ₊ ࣪ ꒱ CHAPTER FOURTEEN ꗃ₊ ࣪ separate paths

꒰ ᘏ₊ ࣪ ꒱ CHAPTER FITHTEEN ꗃ₊ ࣪ die for you

꒰ ᘏ₊ ࣪ ꒱ CHAPTER SIXTEEN ꗃ₊ ࣪ as you are

wanna be tagged? comment a “ ☁️ ” !

© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡

#꒰ ˖ ࣪ . 𐙚 ⊹ ꒱ — 𝓜𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝓜𝐄 𝓗𝐀𝐋𝐅𝐖𝐀𝐘 .ᐟ #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #across the spiderverse #fanfic series #fanfic masterlist #masterlist

[sapphire-writes]

Ch. 3: Aemond Sees A Ghost

main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

summary ~ Aemond tells you everything.

word count: 4.0k

warnings: NSFW/MDNI ~ dubcon (possession), kissing, grinding, spooky stuff, thunderstorms, mentions of death, themes of loss

note: I'd say we're halfway through our spooky adventure! smh I can't believe it! I hope you enjoy loves!

banner made by the fantastic @ewanmitchellcrumbs, ilysm ange!

“I want to know everything.”

The kettle whistles noisily before you remove it from the burner. Aemond sits in his usual spot clad in checkered pajama pants and a gray cotton t-shirt. You wonder how he isn’t cold, your bare arms are covered in goosebumps and you wish you’d grabbed a sweatshirt before leading him down to the kitchen. 

There’s a constant unearthly chill in this house. You set the tea in front of him, his fingers brushing against yours as you sit beside him. 

“Harrenhal,” he says softly, as a floorboard creaks overhead. You both glance up at the ceiling, watching as the chandelier trembles, the crystals reflecting the dim kitchen light. 

You’ve seen it happen before when people walk upstairs; when little Jaehaera runs down the hall, when workers are moving down the hallways. The hour is late now, the workers have gone home, and little Jaehaera is tucked safely in her bed. 

The floorboards above creak, regardless of the truth. 

“We’re not the only ones here,” you slowly begin, eyes falling back to Aemond’s face, “We’re not the only ones in Harrenhal. Are we?”

Aemond is silent for a moment.

“No,” he says softly, “We aren’t.”

Tea turns to coffee as the sky lightens. 

And Aemond tells you everything. 

“Ghosts,” you breathe, “But…that’s not possible.”

“It is,” Aemond insists, “There is something here. Some energy….the locals are right when they call this place cursed. Tragedy befalls anyone who holds it.”

Your skill prickles with goosebumps. Aemond holds it. What tragedy will befall him? You think of Alys, of the sudden death of his wife. 

Perhaps his tragedy has already unfolded. 

“It was Harren, last night,” Aemond tells you, “And his sons, I presume. The original manor was burnt to the bare bones after they created it. With him and his sons inside of it. A terrible fire.”

A chill runs through you at the memory.

“I’ve encountered them before. They’re rather harmless,” Aemond continues, “Simply walking the halls throughout the night. Others are not as pleasant, but…harmless. For the most part.” He pauses, glancing up at you.

The hair on the back of your neck stands at attention.

“What others?” you ask, though you’re unsure if you want the answer. 

“The ones I’ve encountered throughout my time here,” Aemond sighs, rubbing his eyes. The ring on his hand catches your eye; stamped with the Targaryen crest.

You’d see another just like it. Daemon’s face flashes across your mind.

“Your uncle was here,” you tell him, watching as his spine straightens, his shoulders tense, “He knows about them too I presume? He said some things---I’m sorry….it was when you were away, I nearly forgot-”

“What did he want?” Aemond interrupts, staring at you with a renewed fire in his eye.

“He just wanted to speak with you,” you tell him.

“Did he bother you? Was he inappropriate?”

“He was a bit flirtatious, that’s all,” you assure him, cheeks warming at the memory. 

Aemond bristles at that, his hand clenching into a fist. Your stomach flips with embarrassment, the burning sensation on your cheeks spreading down your neck.

“I apologize for that,” he says cooly, “He’s a vile creature.”

You place your hand on top of his fist, “It’s alright.”

Aemond’s gaze softens, and he places his opposite hand on top of yours. You lose yourself in the sensation of his hand on yours for a moment, a pleasant swooping sensation in your lower stomach. You hold his gaze, desire burning hot in your belly. It’s you who looks away first, feeling embarrassed about the intense longing you feel for your employer. You shouldn’t be thinking like this.

“Who was screaming?” you ask, bringing the conversation back to the ghosts.

You can almost hear it still, the sound of screaming echoing in your mind. You’re not sure if you’ll ever be able to forget, even when Harrenhal is simply a memory. Aemond only stares.

“I don’t know,” he says finally, “I’m not…sure.”

You don’t know which answer you’d hoped for but find that the one Aemond gives brings you no comfort. 

Jaehaera hates thunderstorms. 

This is mostly due to the fact that the nursery has a balcony with French doors overlooking the God’s Eye and backyard. When it is sunny, warm rays light the room making it appear bathed in gold. But when it rains, water is hurled violently against the glass echoing throughout the room.

The nursery also has a closet on the opposite side of the room; the doors are made of mirrors. The room was once used as a dance studio, you could tell the moment you’d stepped inside. The wood floors are scuffed from years of use. You can’t help but wonder who danced there.  

This is exactly why Jaehaera insisted on a sleepover in the main living room that night. She suggested it during dinner when thunderclouds were just starting to roll in and turn the sky an eerie gray color. 

“I like it,” Helaena spoke, surprising you, “Let’s have a proper campout.”

So you found yourselves dragging blankets and pillows down the stairs into the living room, assembling a blanket fort with Aemond’s help, and sitting inside of it. The small space was rather cramped with the three of you inside; baby Maelor was already sound asleep in his bassinet.

Helaena was quiet the majority of the time, besides when she was quietly humming to herself. She seemed happy though from what you could tell. As happy as Helaena could be. She always had an air of melancholia around her. 

“I have a story,” Helaena says. 

It is the first time she’s spoken that evening. Jaehaera stands behind Aemond braiding his hair as she often does. She glances at her mother, giving her a toothy grin. 

“A long time ago,” Helaena begins, her eyes looking somewhere far off, “There was a girl dressed in green locked away in a castle.”

“I like castles,” Jaehaera comments, continuing to braid Aemond’s hair.

“She was young and beautiful, and very, very sad,” Helaena continued, “She wed the king, and became a queen. It was everything a girl should want. But she didn’t want it at all.”

You watch Helaena as she taps her nails against the cup of tea she holds. They’re painted silver; Jaehaera’s doing. The paint is chipped around her thumbs already. A nervous habit you’d noticed. 

“Why not?” Jaehaera asks, her nose scrunched as she pouts, “I’d like to be a queen.”

“She was in love with the princess, you see, and never wanted the old king. But he took her anyway because that is what men in power do. They take pretty little girls and keep them locked away.”

“Did she have children?” Jaehaera asks.

“She did. Many. She loved them all dearly. Beautiful children they were, and they were all taken from her. She outlived them all,” Helaena continues, “Mad with grief, the queen locked herself away this time.”

Helaena sips from her cup, a smile twitching on her lips.

“I never understood Daisy before having a child,” she muses, switching away from her story, “Before having a girl. I hope she’ll be a fool.”

A shiver rolls down your spine as Helaena locks eyes with you.

“That’s the best thing a girl can be in this world. A beautiful little fool,” she says softly, eyes flickering toward her brother, “Mũna said the same thing once, didn’t she Aem?”

Aemond holds his sister’s gaze, “I don’t remember.”

“I’m sure of it,” she says, mouth stretching open into a yawn, “You’d read aloud and Mũna would stroke your hair. You always liked that book.”

“I like a lot of books,” Aemond says, the top of his cheeks turning pink as he reaches behind him and lifts a giggling Jaehaera into the air as he stands, “It’s late, zaldrīzītsos. Time for bed.”

“I’m not tired,” Jaehaera insists, though she echoes her mother’s yawn.  

You all exit the fort, Helaena retiring to the couch. She lays on her back, stretching like a cat. 

“Mhmm,” Aemond says, depositing her into Helaena’s arms on the couch.

He tucks them both in, turning the remainder of the lights off before joining you on the makeshift mattresses on the floor. You can only see the outline of him in the darkness; the curve of his nose, the twinkling of his eye. 

“Is Helaena alright?” you whisper, and he presses a finger to your lips.

“Yes,” he breathes, thumb tracing your lower lip, “Thank you, for doing this.”

“Of course,” you whisper, barely breathing as his finger traces down your chin, “Are you tired?”

“No,” he says softly, his hand sliding down the curve of your neck, “I’m a bit of an insomniac.”

Your breathing becomes labored as his thumb strokes your collarbone. You wish you’d worn something else, not the ratty old band t-shirt you’d chosen paired with some sleep shorts.

“Oh,” you say, unsure of how else to answer him. 

Your thoughts scramble when he touches you, as though his touch short circuits the wiring in your brain. He says your name then, so softly you almost miss it. He’s close enough to kiss, all you need to do is lean forward and his nose will bump against your own.

His hand falls from you. Eyes adjusted to the dark, you watch as his tongue darts out wetting his lower lip. 

“Aemond,” you say softly, and he reaches for you again, this time lacing his fingers through yours, “Will we be alright down here?”

His eye flickers around your face, his fingers tightening in your grip.

“I won’t let anything happen,” he assures, “To any of us.”

You choose to believe him. He sounds so certain, he truly believes it. There’s not a doubt in your mind that he wouldn’t do everything in his power to protect Helaena. Jaehaera. Maelor.

You.

You rub your thumb against the smooth skin of the back of his hand and soon your eyes grow heavy as sleep overtakes you. 

You wake in the middle of the night, closer to morning than to midnight. The sky is still black as ink, the sounds of rain splattering against the many windows. There is no room for stars, the entire night sky is blacked out by rain clouds. 

Jaehara snores contentedly next to you, wrapped up in her mother’s embrace. Helaena’s sleeping form curls into her daughter, holding her in a cocoon of warmth. Mother and daughter look incredibly alike; both share the same nose and soft pout, their fair brows relaxed in sleep. The bassinet next to them holds a sleeping Maelor, his tiny nose scrunched as he dreams. 

You sit up from your spot on the floor, looking around the dark room. It’s hard to see anything before the room is illuminated by a flash of lightning. Aemond is no longer beside you. The room descends into darkness once more, and goosebumps rise on your arms as a chill enters the room. Helaena stirs in her sleep, pulling Jaehaera closer. A mother’s unconscious need to keep her daughter close.

Lightning flashes and the room is lit once more, a shadow dancing near the stairs. 

“Aemond?” you half whisper, as thunder booms through the sky.

The thunder is not as loud as it was earlier that night; the storm must be moving out. You rise from the floor, letting the blankets fall to a pile at your feet. It’s cold, much colder now that you’re in your sleep shorts and T-shirt. You move toward the staircase, around the corner, and down toward the kitchen. Perhaps he’s making tea.

When you enter the kitchen, it’s empty. No kettle whistling, no lamp, and no Aemond. A noise behind you causes you to turn.

There’s that shadow again.

“Aemond?” you call, louder this time. A small smile appears on your face.

Could he be playing a trick on you? Nervousness stirs in your belly, and you decide to follow, exiting the kitchen. You walk up the stairs, watching as the shadow dips down the left hallway, towards his study. 

Warmth floods through you, desire lodging in your stomach. It spreads through your limbs thick like honey, like you’re floating down the hall instead of walking. Your head buzzes, thoughts fuzzy as you reach for the handle of the door, opening it. 

Aemond looks up from his papers, a surprised look on his face as you close the door, pressing your back up against it. You’ve never been here before. The room is cozy. Warm. How can it be so warm when the rest of the house is so cold?

“You were gone,” you tell him, though it's phrased more like a question.

“I told you, I’m an insomniac,” he says, the corner of his lips quirking into a smile, “Did you miss me?”

“I always miss you when you’re away,” you tell him, surprised at the words that leave your mouth, the raw honesty behind them.

Aemond’s lips part, and his lashes flutter at your confession. You walk deeper into the room, letting your hand trail across the spine of the many books that decorate his shelves. 

“You’re always away,” you tell him, tingling with anticipation, “I never see you anymore.”

“What do you mean?” he asks, as you turn to face him.

“This room,” you muse, “It’s like the heart of the house. Warm…tucked away.”

His cheeks are flushed, eyes focused on your face rather than the generous amount of thigh you’re showing. You glance down at your chest, watching your breasts rise and fall as you breathe then bring your eyes back to him. 

You walk towards him, still tracing the spines of the books that line his shelves. Your hand drops as you round the corner of his desk. Aemond has pushed himself from behind his desk, still seated in the large leather chair, his legs spread wide. His lips are parted, watching you in awe. 

“I just want you close,” you admit, stepping forward between his legs.

Aemond tenses as you place your knees on either side of his waist and straddle his lap. He groans as you sit, resting your weight against him.

“Y/N….” Aemond says, holding his hands up in surrender; he won’t meet your eyes.

You wrap your hands around the back of his neck, lacing your fingers together. 

“Don’t you want me?” you whisper, tendrils of your hair tickling his sharp cheekbones. 

Aemond looks up then, eyes meeting yours and you watch his resolve crumble. He lowers his hands to your waist, before letting them rest at the junction of your hip and thighs. The air between you is heavy, your ears are ringing as you connect his mouth to yours. 

Fire burns brightly in your chest, warming your whole body as he kisses you. He tastes just like you’d dreamed he would; spearmint and tea, and something else that is entirely him. Rolling your hips against him you grind against the hardness forming between his legs. Gods he feels big.

You moan into his mouth, your mind happily buzzing as he squeezes the swell of your ass. His kiss is like a drug, like pure heaven racing through your veins. Your limbs are heavy, thoughts scattered and hazy. 

That’s it. “Fuck me,” you whisper, nails digging into his scalp, nipping at his lower lip before sucking it between your own. 

It’s bold, it’s lewd.

It’s not you.

Aemond groans, lifting you from his lap as he stands, and places you on his desk. You continue to kiss him, to tear at his button-down like a marionette on a string. Something is wrong. Nothing is wrong, just like that.

“Gods, you’re incredible,” he breathes, and you want to scream, to tell him to wait, not like this.

Not when it's not you. Not when your body is here, but your mind is not. It feels good though, yes? The puppetmaster continues plucking your strings, making you smile coyly at him.

“My Aemond,” you whisper, hands dipping below the waistline of his pants. 

Aemond freezes, pulling back from you. You tilt your head to the side as he cups your cheeks, looking deeply into your eyes. His eyes are searching, no longer clouded with lust. Your nails scrape against the smooth flesh of his lower abdomen, legs still locked behind his waist. 

“Why’d you stop?” your lips form the words, but it’s not you. 

Aemond’s face hardens, and he wets his lips as he releases your face. He brings his hands to your calves, unlocking them from around his waist. Gently, he places his hands on your wrists, removing them from his pants. 

“Alys, we’ve talked about this,” he says softly, taking a step back.

Suddenly, the feelings of sleep are greater, and your eyelids are heavy yet they remain open. You’re aware you’re still talking, still moving, but someone else is controlling it. It’s as though you’re hearing the conversation from a different room like you’ve stepped out of yourself for a moment. 

Alys. Shhhh. Alys Rivers. It’s alright. Aemond’s….Aemond’s Alys.

“But she’s perfect, Aemond,” your voice says, “And you like her, I know you do. I see the way you look at her. Touch her.”

“Let her go,” he says, voice almost a whisper, “Alys….please.”

She reaches for him, using your arms. It’s like you’re moving through molasses, though you can sense her desperation, her need for him. 

“We can have a baby now,” she insists, your voice breaking as she speaks, “One of our very own.”

“You have little Jaehaera-”

“I want my own, Aemond, you promised me!”

“That was before, Alys. Now you’re…” he lets the sentence trail off, “Things are different now.”

She brings your hand to cup your breast, and you watch Aemond’s eye flicker toward the movement.

“She’s perfect,” she tells him, “And she’s so sweet, so wet for you, my love. You should feel how much she wants you.”

“Stop,” Aemond says, clenching his hands into fists.

“She aches for you. Not just physically,” Alys insists, “I can feel it all, here in her head.”

“I said enough!” Aemond yells, followed by a clap of thunder. 

Alys doesn’t flinch, you can feel her unyielding strength inside of you. She tilts your chin higher, hand dropping from your breast. 

“She’s different than the other one,” Alys insists, “You didn’t even like that girl-”

“You’d no right to do that to Floris,” Aemond says, running a hand through his hair, “She was a sweet girl--”

“Sweet,” Alys scoffs, “Weak. You’ve gone soft, haven’t you?” She cocks your head to the side. “Do you not love me anymore?” she asks, her voice cold as ice.

“You know that isn’t true--”

“I don’t mind sharing--”

“You’re dead, Alys.”

She’s silent then, and your chest tightens with the agony she feels at his words. Aemond’s gaze is pained, his seeing-eye glassy with tears. 

“Release her-”

“I miss you,” she says, reaching for him, “That’s all. Is that so hard to believe?” She chuckles bitterly. “I just want our baby.”

“It’s not how it is supposed to be, Alys,” he says, taking the hand she offers, “I’m so sorry.”

“You’re always sorry,” she says, her voice trembling, “Just give me what I want.”

“I can’t do that,” Aemond says, “Let her go.”

Alys holds his hand a moment more. You feel a tear roll down your cheek leaving a hot stream behind. Then your limbs go rigid before all the tension in your body releases. Your head drops forward, limbs sagging into Aemond’s arms.

“It’s alright,” he says, lifting you into his arms bridal style, “I’ve got you.”

The feeling of sleep is different now; you’re groggy as though you’d just woken from a nap. Leaning into his chest, you press your face against his shoulder. Spearmint, aftershave, and tea. He smells so good. Your eyelids are heavy as he walks down the hallway. You can’t hear the rain anymore. Has it stopped?

“Aem-”

“Shh don’t speak,” he says, placing you in bed. 

You’re in your room. Here already? That was fast.

“What happened?” you ask, throat raw, mouth dry.

“It’s alright,” he tells you, laying his hand against your forehead. 

You welcome the heat. You’re so cold.

“The heart….” you murmur.

“What?”

“The heart of the house,” you mumble, “It’s cold…”

Aemond pulls your blankets around you, tucking you in tightly sitting beside you on the bed. 

“What was that?” you ask, as Aemond’s hand strokes your cheek.

“It was just Alys,” he assures you.

You sit up then, the sleepiness leaving your body rather quickly as though someone had poured ice water down your back. The sheets fall around your waist and Aemond sighs disapprovingly as your eyebrows knit together. His hand falls from your cheek, resting on your bent leg. 

“Alys,” you repeat, “Your wife.”

“Yes.”

“She made me….” your cheeks warm, “Did…did we…?”

“No,” Aemond assures, shaking his head, “No we only kissed.”

You can feel him still, the ache returning between your thighs. His violet eye watches you closely as does the sightless milky one. He’s reading every microexpression on your face like the pages of a book. 

“I’m sorry-”

“Whatever are you sorry for, dōna hāedar?” he says, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth.

“That we…that when we kissed…” you murmur, looking down, cheeks blazing with embarrassment, “That it….that it wasn’t me.”

Aemond rubs circles on your knee, watching the movement. The room is silent for a moment apart from your steady breathing. There is an ache between your eyes, deep in your skull that you’ll no doubt need to sleep off. 

“We should rectify that,” Aemond says softly, “If you’d like.”

Your lips part as you meet his eyes again. He’s watching you so carefully, as though you may run from the grounds at any moment never to be seen again. 

But you’d made your choice. And you intended to stick to it.

“Yes,” you breathe, leaning forward, “I’d like to.”

“Then it’s settled,” he murmurs, leaning forward. Your eyes flutter shut as his nose bumps against yours causing you to gasp softly, lips parting even more, “It’s only right.”

You can feel his lips against yours as he speaks; just brushing slightly.

“I agree,” you say breathlessly, and he closes the gap, pressing his lips firmly against yours, his hand cupping the back of your neck. 

Your hand fists his shirt as you kiss him, his mouth hot and greedy against yours. His lips, his perfect lips fit against yours so perfectly, and he turns his head slipping his tongue into your waiting mouth. 

Gods you want him. You want him so badly you’re trembling with need. Aemond leans forward then, pressing you back against the bed, kissing you all the while. Your hands claw at him until his hands lace through yours, pressing them back against the mattress. He murmurs your name, lips trailing down the side of your throat. Yes, yes, yes. 

“Aemond!” you gasp, pushing at him suddenly. 

He tears his lips from yours, standing immediately as you gasp for breath. The pair of you stare at each other wide-eyed, trying to catch your bearings. 

“She’s here,” Aemond says, voice hoarse.

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly, “It felt like she may…come back.”

“Fuck,” Aemond growls, “Fuck!”

You wet your lips, wanting nothing more than to hold him. Aemond leans against the bedpost, lost in thought.

“We have to be careful,” he says, “On the grounds. She’ll try…she doesn’t know what she’s doing.” You can hear the love he holds for her in his voice, even now. “She just wanted a baby.”

“It’s alright,” you tell him, “We’ll be careful. We won’t….” your sentence trails off. 

“Yes,” Aemond agrees, “Not long now. The house will go quickly once it’s on the market. Summerhal house is waiting for us.”

You force a small smile.

“No ghosts?” you ask. 

Aemond’s returning smile mirrors your own.

“No promises,” he says softly, “Get some sleep.”

“What about Helaena? And the children…”

“I’ll go to them,” he says, walking forward, placing a kiss on your forehead, “You rest.”

“Goodnight Aemond,” you call as he exits your room.

“Goodnight,” he says softly, the door clicking shut behind him.

You lay on the bed, your body trembling. The rain begins once more, the sound of thunder returning. It may be the rain, you’re not sure, but as you drift off to sleep you swear you hear the soft sounds of a woman crying somewhere in Harrenhal.

note: hope you enjoyed this chapter! as always, comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated but never expected (though you will receive a forehead kiss from me if you do any of them).

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#aemond x reader #modern!aemond #modern!aemond x reader #aemond targaryen fic #halloween fic #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #modern au #halloween au #aemond targaryen #aemond series #hotd series #fanfic series #halloween fanfic #aemond fanfiction #aemond smut

[blue-sadie]

Fuck Me Boy

Fuck-Boy Lo'ak Sully x Nerd Reader

Series Masterlist

Prt 1 of the Fucking The Nerd Series

Summary: being paired with the fboy of the school what can go wrong

Warning: slut shaming, desk sex, aged up characters

Yn/3rd person pov

Being the invisible and quiet nerd that everyone looks over has its benefits and downfalls like hearing the latest drama from the popular girls who think no one is in the bathroom stall.

One of the biggest things that is happening right now is lo'ak sully the schools best football player and one of the biggest fuck boys in school following his older brothers footsteps.

His recent 'toy' was narri one of my close friends who hasn't been to school since the incident because of the photos he shared of her giving him a bj in the boys locker room.

I haven't had much incounters with him but one being one of the 'smart' people I was paired with him for a project which got me into this current situation.

I knocked lightly on the wooden door gently fiddling with my hands as I waited for reply 'come on I'm freezing' I internally rolled my eyes as I waited rocking on my heels.

"Hello" I quickly straightened up as Mrs sully opened the door looking tired with a little girl on her hip "hi sorry I'm here for lo'ak" I murmured adjusting my bag on my shoulder she quickly opened up the door letting me in.

"Second door to your right darling" she smiled pointing up the stairs "thank you" I murmured slowly walking up the stairs dreading each step as I reached the last step I stood in the hallway 'why couldn't he come to my house' I huffed.

"Aren't you a cute thing" I gasped feeling a sting on my ass glaring up at the culprit which neteyam in nothing but sweatpants "like what you see princess" he teased.

He moved in closer till he was only inches apart and opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted by lo'ak clearing his throat "leave her alone" he grumbled glaring at neteyam as I looked at him.

"Come on" he muttered retreating back into his dimly lit room "bye princess" neteyam murmured biting his lip as I went into the room "close the door" lo'ak murmured sitting down at his desk picking up his gaming controller.

"Nope not happening" I muttered setting me books onto his bed "and why the fuck not" lo'ak laughed dryly turning to me in his chair "because I know you lo'ak I know as soon as I close that door your gonna try something so not gonna happen" I growled getting my supplies out.

He grumbled to himself as he got up and slammed the door "whatever your whore friend told you it's not gonna happen to you so you don't have to worry about it" he said through greeted teeth.

"She is not a whore" I muttered defending my friend "no she just ended up on her knees in the boys locker room for nothing" he rolled his eyes "she is not a whore" I muttered again "well if your so sure look on my phone" he grumbled pointing to the untouched device next to me.

I shakily picked it up and turned it on and my eyes widened in shock as a video started to play I watched in horror as my friend was sucking someone's dick as others around her jerked off "press the unmute bottom" lo'ak murmured.

I did so and my heart sunk "please cum in my mouth" she begged "suck a slut" a boy yelled out and she only agreed I quickly threw the phone down my breathing became uneven "she is a whore" lo'ak laughed sitting on the bed infront of me.

"She begged me to take photos and I just obliged" he smirked but gasped as I slapped him "that isn’t her" I whimpered as tears started to slip out my eyes "it can't be" I looked down at my lap letting the tears leave little wet patches on my jeans "cry baby" lo'ak muttered getting up and back to his spot at his desk.

I sat silently for a few moments before starting to pack up in a hurry "where do you think your going" lo'ak muttered looking at me "anywhere away from you" I cried shoving stuff into my bag and getting up "what about the project" he said standing up as well "forget it".

I tried walking out the door but was yanked into his arms my hands landing on his chest "listen to me, look at me" he growled forcing me to look up at him and for the first actual time I saw something other then lust and hunger it was filled with care.

"Like I said before nothing that happened to her will happen to you I won't try anything" he let go of me and put his hands up "now can we please just focus on our project" he murmured stepping aside, I sucked in a shakey breathe "fine but turn off the games" I stated.

He nodded moving to the desk and switching off his console and watched as I neared the bed "come sit here" he said pulling out a stool from under the desk "come on I don't bite" he laughed, I rolled my eyes in annoyance and hesitantly sat next to him and watched as he cleared a space for me.

"Ok let's get started" I whispered taking out my supplies and laying them out neatly and grabbed all our information and books laying them out in order "dam your ocd".

-A Few Hours Later-

"Finally" I yawned stretching out my arms "dam" I looked at lo'ak as he licked his lips looking at me breasts my face tinted a light purple "hey" I yelled smacking his chest "what I'm a guy it's in my genes to stare at boobs" he laughed "I'm just surprised you have any" he smiled.

"And why's that smartass" I tilted my head looking at him "I just mean if other girls had your boobs they'd flaunt them infront of guys faces" he chuckled "well I'm not like the cheerleaders" I shook my head in disgust "your not like any girl you mean".

I gave him a look of confusion "come I watch you in class your always reading I never see you without tights under your uniform you hate showing off unless it's for some nerd competition and you always spend break in the library" blush spread across my cheeks as he talked "you watch me" I asked making him shut his mouth and scratch the back of his head.

"I may be a bad person but I still have taste" he chuckled making my blush brighten even more I looked down at my lap and nervously started to play with my fingers "don't go all shy on me now" he said using his two fingers to tilt my head back up "I won't bite.... well unless you want me to".

I was about to speak when he leaned forward crashing his lips to mine my heart flattered and i closed my eyes leaning into the kiss his hands wondered to my hips pulling me onto his lap "fuck I wanted to do this for a long time" I muttered moving his lips to my neck.

My brain is telling me to stop and leave but my body and heart is telling me to do this "what's wrong" he asked pulling away staring into my eyes "it-it's nothing" I murmured looking down at me lap "come on I won't do anything your not comfortable with" he whispered laying soft pecks on my face.

He gently lifted me up and put me on his desk and stood between my legs and his hand caressed my cheek guiding my face to his "can i" he asked moving his other hand to my skirt "please" I whispered, he smirked standing back and pulling his shirt over his head leaving his toned chest exposed.

I ran my hands down his chest to his pants undoing the knot "wow look who is impatient" he chuckled darkly and his hands went to undo my blouse but got impatient and ripped it off "i never knew you were a lace girl" he smirked biting his lip, I was wearing a simple black lace set of underwear.

"Now let's see you without this skirt" he murmured pulling off my skirt and taking off his pants "fuck your gorgeous" he growled grazing his hands up and down my thighs.

"Please lo'ak" I whined as he finally raised his hands to my underwear slipping two of his fingers into my panties running them up and down my slight before plunging in "fuck" I whimpered throwing my head back as he curled them and used his thumb to rub my clit.

He licked his fingers clean and groaned at the taste "so fucking sweet" he cursed "now since you handled my fingers do you think you can handle this" he grinned pushing off his boxers letting his cock spring loose.

I started at him with lustfulled eyes and watched carefully as he entered me "shit your tight" he growled and gave me a few moments to adjust before he started moving our moans and groans started to fill the room as his hands wondered all over my body my breasts being one of his favorites.

"fuck their like hentai boobs I can't believe you hide these things" I would've have laughed at him my mind was started to go blank and my eyes becoming half lidded the pleasure was amazing, his thrusts began to speed up and his desk began to shake "fuck I love to see your boobs bounce every time I thrust into you" he groaned throwing his head back.

His hands slowly started to grab and scratch at my skin and his cock began to pulse "are you gonna cum with me slut" he muttered and started to rub my clit again I bit my lip holding back a chocked scream "I'll take that as a yes" he growled going faster, my eyes began to flatter as I felt my climax nearing again.

"Lo'ak" I whimpered out as the knot in my stomach began to tighten "cum for me again baby" he cooed I squealed out as I cam around him and he quickly pulled out and cam on my stomach "fuck we have to that again" he huffed out and leaned his hands beside me.

"How was that baby" he grinned and laughed as I only whined in response "I'll get something to clean you up" he murmured going over to his cardboard and grabbing a few things "here" he smirked handing me a white shirt before wiping my stomach, thighs and pussy

"there all cleaned up now put on that shirt I don't think I can control myself if those things are out any longer" he growled playfully, he helped me put my clothes back on before bringing me over to the bed to watch some TV shows on his laptop.

After a while I packed up our finished project and my other supplies and he walked me down stairs and out the door and gave me a peck on the cheek.

"See you monday"

Tag.List

@avatar4eva

@sweetirilly

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#avatar #avatar pandora #avatar x reader #avatar way of water #avatar x reader smut #avatar smut #lo'ak #lo'ak sully #lo'ak x reader #modern au #avatar modern au #fboy au #fboy lo'ak x reader #lo'ak x nerd reader #fanfic series #avatar fanfic

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We need Spotify wrapped but for fanfiction

#marvel fanfiction #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fan fic #ao3 fanfic #ao3 #archive of our own #Spotify wrapped #Spotify wrapped 2022 #ao3 writer #ao3 series #marvel fanfic #fanfic series

[uglypastels]

Not Wholly Evil |VII| pirate!Eddie au

a/n - ok, so first of all, i cannot thank everyone enough for the support on this fic. i am just in awe at the love its been getting recently. so i think it times out perfectly that this chapter is the one i have been the most excited to write and had been waiting to write since probably chapter 3 or something. I really hope you like it. Be sure to reblog and/or comment (and remember asks are also always welcome!)💗

Series Masterlist

word count: 5.4k

"semi dark fic" - READ the warnings:. (gun/sword)violence. blood. mention of severe wounds. minor character death. allusions to suicide. kidnapping. imprisonment. alcohol. open and deep sea. near death experiences in water. pirates are pigs: mentions of non-con, but it does not actually occur. malnourishment and weight loss. paranoia. mention of poisoning. abuse. manhandling. lying.

Chapter 7: Four Corners of Heaven

“The heart of man is very much like the sea; it has its storms, it has its tides, and in its depths it has its pearls too."

- Vincent van Gogh

The ship swayed from side to side, taking you along with it, stumbling from one leg onto the other as you struggled to find your balance. Wardrobe doors flung open, banging against their hinges. Papers flew all over the ground as the desk shifted from its secured position.

A banging noise sank deep into you, pulling you back to the Red Tail. The panic lasted until you realised you heard waves crashing against the window. How tall would they have to be to reach the glass? How strong to be able to open the hinges? 

It smashed against the wall, nearly cracking, but the damage was still done as water spilt inside with vicious attacks. Cursing, you made your way over, trying to close it before the entire floor would be under water. The spurts hit you in your face, shoving it down your throat. The icy feeling froze your skin as the heavy salt taste burned your tongue. By the time you closed the window, you had been drenched. You heaved for air, bend over with your arms on your knees. 

There was shouting outside the room. Incoherent behind the wood and rain layers, but the sense of emergency remained. 

You let yourself fall to the ground, back against the wall. All the commotion was now accompanied by your heartbeat drumming in your ears. When you calmed down, you realised you had still been holding the letter, scrunched into a wet roll between your fist, the water dripping off it came down in dark grey tears. Quickly, you dropped it into one of the desk's drawers and shut it. 

The ship also began to halt its tilt, regaining its composure, and so slowly, your anxiety faded. It allowed you to think; look around. Two longswords were hanging up on the wall, so you grabbed one and did your best to block the mechanics that opened the window. It should hold the water for some time, but you could only hope. You ignored the metal's clanking sound against the glass as the force pushed against it. 

As more shouting erupted from outside, the smaller the room felt. Suddenly you were back on the Red Tail, under the desk, hiding from these men. That was how it had all started, wasn’t it? They hid you away to keep you safe… and yet. The walls closed in on you. The water seemed to rise, but only in your mind, drowning in helplessness. 

If something did happen to this ship, you thought you would die either way, and you might not know many things, but one thing was certain: you would not die in Munson’s cabin.  

When you walked out of the room the past days, you were greeted with plush warm air, as if you had fallen gently atop a pillow. Now, it was more like a hard fall. The wind slapped your entire body, and the harsh rain cut at your cheeks. Each step felt as if you had been anchored to the ground. 

All around you was chaos. Water was everywhere. Rain poured harshly, a million icy bullets coming down your skin, soaking through your clothes. The waves reached a height as you had never seen, coming in closer by the second, threatening to spill over the railings. Some already did, drowning the wooden panelling of the deck, leaving nothing untouched as barrels rolled around. Crew members ran behind them, with meters of ropes, hoping to steady the load, but it was in poor attempts when their feet could barely remain steady. Munson threw around commands, but in these circumstances, his beloved ship had a mind of her own, and it was protesting her captain. 

The rest, in the meantime, did their best to keep up with what the captain had to say. Pulling the sails, ensuring a hold on all the loose cargo on the deck from slipping away. With buckets, they threw out water that splashed onto the ship, but with each wave, the amount only doubled. The men stumbled over themselves, knocking eachother over as the boat swayed immensely. 

You heard your name being called from the side and saw Harrington at the helm. Seeing him in the rain, you could not help but think of a dog. How the animals shrink in size when met with water, shaking and whimpering, just wanting to escape the cold. All of them, in fact, everyone around you, reminded you of it. They were all simply fighting for their life against the elements. 

Harrington looked at you sternly, and you could tell what he was saying with his expression alone. Go inside. But you stared blankly back, with no intention of listening.

That is when the wind picked up, pushing the ship off course. The helm began spinning in circles, and Harrington held onto its spurs for dear life, turning it back with all his remaining power. You could tell he wouldn’t be able to hold it much longer. His grip kept slipping. He cursed loudly, but there was no one there to help. No one except you. It took you one quick glance to realise it, and once that occurred, you immediately stepped up to him and pulled at the spurs.

Harrington looked taken aback, for a second forgetting the task at hand, and that one second had been enough for him to fall back a few steps and the helm to begin to unfold again, resulting in another loud curse.

‘What are you doing?’ 

‘Helping you!’ you called out; both of you were sputtering as the water of both sea and sky engulfed you. 

‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ He yelled out moments before another wave hit the vessel's side, and he got knocked off his feet. For a brief moment, until he had regained his stance, you were the only one holding the helm. The weight of the entire ship fell upon you for those brief seconds, which was overwhelming. It was too much, too heavy. You couldn’t carry on on your own. 

Harrington coughed out as he regained a grip on the wheel. He glanced at you with another expression of displeasure at your presence, but there was no longer time for him to argue. You could barely hold the wheel together. Your feet were slipping on the wet floor. 

‘Pull!’ he shouted almost directly into your ear, but he could have been miles away with the thunder roaring over your heads.

‘I am!’ you shouted right back, but clearly, it was not enough.

‘Pull harder than!’ 

I can’t, you wanted to shout back, but that would have been worthless. You were putting in every inch of power you had left in this, yet it would still take much more for the ship to cooperate. By the time you released the helm with certainty, your arms were burning with exhaustion, and your skin was numb from the thousands of pinpricks of the harsh downpour.  

Not that this mattered much. The rest of the ship was still in turmoil. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought a mist had set in from how dense the water came down, covering everything in a grey mass. The wind blew you back three steps for each that you attempted to make. 

You were both breathing heavily, which was hard as it was combined with trying not to swallow the loads of water that came down upon you with each breath you took. Was there even air to breathe at this point? Or had you already sunk into the ocean? Everything felt on top of its head, spinning around. You barely heard what Harrington said as you pulled yourself out of the nausea.

‘What?’ you asked, shouting everything out to come out above the noise. 

‘I’m sorry,’ he repeated. Now, what was he apologising for? And why now, as the storm was only growing stronger, it seemed. The two of you still stood side by side at the helm, holding it tightly, but now more for your own sake, anchoring yourself from the wind. Across the ship, you saw the rest of the crew battling with the weather. Munson had stopped shouting out commands and was part of a group trying to keep the mizzenmast up. He had discarded his jacket somewhere along the way, leaving him to let the water soak into his shirt, which stuck to him meticulously. 

‘That are you apologising for,’ you turned quickly to Harrington. Facing his direction only caused the rain to directly attack your face. 

‘For listening to him,’ he shouted. As the storm raged on, you doubted anyone could hear the two of you anymore, no matter how loud you spoke. ‘I thought I was doing what was best for everyone, it was stupid.’

‘But why—why did he tell you to do that?’ 

To your surprise, Harrington laughed. ‘I’ve realised long ago it is better not to understand how his mind works.’ 

You wanted to reply that, no, you did want to understand exactly how his mind worked because it was making you insane when suddenly, a crash sounded over the vessel. All heads turned to starboard, where something must have just crashed bast the railing beams. A large whole gaped at the rest of you; a crate had already fallen out, but it was the least of your worries as you saw an arm hanging on for dear life from one of the broken wood beams. 

Munson was the first person to reach the crewman in peril. He reached for him just in time as the man’s grip slipped off the wood. The captain lay flat on his stomach across the deck. Some more men reached him and tried to pull him in, but the ship shifted again on the waves; nothing was in their favour. 

‘Harrington!’ the captain yelled, but when his voice reached you, it was less than a murmur against the wind. ‘HARRINGTON!’ He looked over toward the helm, and that is when he noticed you. 

You didn’t give him the same amount of attention, for you had a better view of everything around. You could see the stack of men that had now gathered at the broken ship’s side, pulling their mate back to safety, but you also saw the barrel that was lopsiding, threatening to fall over with each hit of the waves. They must have missed it when securing everything in haste. From its position, it seemed that if it would topple over, the barrel would roll directly into the panicked rescue operation. 

Harrington, who had been trying to steer the ship as best as he could in the circumstances, must have seen it too, as you had only taken a step to the side, and he had already grabbed your arm. 

‘Let go off me, or I will give you another black eye!’ You threatened. 

‘Have you gone mad!’ He shouted over the yelling below you. 

‘Yes!’ You couldn’t help but smile and possibly not even far from any truth. The last few weeks were maddening in every possible way. Whatever had or would have happened, there was no denying that you had changed, and the most evident proof was right there as you ran down the stairs in an attempt to save the men that you had thought would lead you to your death. Just as you thought you had reached it in time, the barrel tipped over entirely, hitting the ground and immediately started to roll. It rolled in your direction, the only obstruction in its way.

Without thinking, you let yourself crush against it, shoulder to wood. The pain was intense but passed quickly, and though you had let your feet slip and there was nothing to mask the fall, you had still managed to stop the large piece of refuse from hurting the others. 

You could see them pulling the fallen crewmate back onto the deck when you got up. Shuffling through your memories of what you had encountered and heard the past few days, his name didn’t come up, and yet you felt a huge relief fall off you. 

‘You’re welcome!’ you said, tired and feeling heavy. 

Someone helped Munson get up. His hair was stuck all over his face, but when he brushed it aside, you saw his face—full of anger. He stormed over to you or tried to, considering how the ship had thrown him off-balance. 

‘What should I be thanking you for?’ He spat out, primarily due to all the rain that had soaked into him. 

‘For saving your life!’ You had not expected him to be thankful, that was not who Munson was, but you had not imagined him to be angry. Yet, his eyes were rageful, his jaw tense as he looked at you silently and turned to his men to yell out: 

‘Someone secure that damn wall.’ 

Aye. There were already three men on it, trying to block the wrecked piece of the ship. Any proper reparations would have to wait until the storm had run its course. There was no way for them to sit there with the waves splashing into their faces at such speed and force and nowhere to stand without a risk of falling. 

The captain turned back to you. ‘I told you to stay inside.’

‘If I had, you would have been in the water now!’ You shouted back, ‘clearly, you need as many hands on deck as possible.’

‘Not yours.’ He wiped his face off from the rain, but it poured over him with even more strength. ‘Go back to my quarters. Now.’

‘No.’ You stood your ground, pushing back against Munson’s and the wind’s will.  You would not let yourself be stowed away. He could not take this away from you. He could not take you away. You wouldn’t let him. Not again.

‘That is an order.’ He snapped. 

‘I do not take orders from you.' You may not have been much help, but you had already kept Harrington from losing complete control over the helm and practically saved the captain from falling into the ocean's depths. Still, it was not enough to convince the captain, as his reply was clear and straightforward, despite all the noise that muffled your voices from eachother.

‘You’ll die out here!’ A wave pushed you forward, stumbling into his chest. He held you up by your wrist before you both fell. 

‘So will you!’ You looked him in the eyes, pleading. Unsure for what. Something. Anything.

For a moment, you thought you had won him over, but then he looked around, shouting out names of his crewmen, anyone who could hear him or get close enough to you. But they were all too occupied. Finally, one of the coopers, who was already tying up the barrel you had so swiftly taken care of with the rest of the cargo, ran up at the sound of his name.

‘Take care of her before I do,’ Munson told him. The boy—as he seemed younger than most men on this ship—nodded, but you saw in his face he had nothing over you. Before he could reach for you, you pushed past him towards the captain. 

‘I’m not leaving you.’ Perhaps that were not the words you had meant to say. Maybe you simply wanted to say that you were not about to leave this deck, but those were the words to come out of your mouth.

As a response, he asked the same question that crossed your mind as soon as those words had left your mouth. ‘Why?’ 

‘Because–’ but before you could answer, a pair of arms grabbed you and pulled you away. You screamed out, demanding to be let go, but it was all washed out in the storm. It couldn’t have been the boyish cooper that had taken you; his hold was too firm and strong. Whoever they were, they dragged you back toward the cabin on the captain's orders, towards alleged safety. What would happen if they opened the door to reveal a waterfall streaming past their feet because those bloody windows broke open once more? What then? 

But you felt a pinch of pride in your heart because you knew that some days ago, you would not have dared to stand up to the captain with such defiance. You certainly would not have dared to kick and scratch at the man holding you until he let you go. You would have been shoved into that room and locked away, and maybe it would have been for the better because just moments after you freed yourself, you locked eyes with Munson. He was ready to speak, yell, and so were you, but all of that was washed out by a wave. One larger than you had ever seen before. It towered over the ship, dampening everything in its shadow. And then it crashed down. You had just about managed to take one final breath and heard a scream of your name. 

There was a push, and something hit your head, or was it your head that hit something. Either way—

Everything went black. 

That must be what death feels like. Floating, weightlessly numb. There is darkness, and then there is light. It grows and grows, overcoming the chasm and suddenly, all the pain from before is gone.

It is disorienting at first as you try to understand where you are. It all feels familiar and yet impossible at the same time. You do not know how you got there but know the way perfectly well. You remember it all exactly—that day—like no time had ever passed. It must have been years ago. Long before the wreckage and the fire and the storm and chaos. Long before him. And yet… 

As you come to, but not exactly, you hear the mewing of seagulls. A flock hovers over your head. The sun shines brightly. As you move your hand, blades of grass tickle your fingertips and that smell… the sweet scent of summer. 

There’s a weight on your stomach. A book. You had been reading it for hours under the tree. The large lime tree in the garden, but to call it a garden is an understatement. The branches rock gently in the breeze, shaking their leaves in a greeting. 

You sit up, letting your back rest against the tree bark. In the distance are voices, children playing, merchants selling their produce, and animals roaming freely over the streets like any other day. 

Then you hear it. 

‘Gentlemen, I think we have an agreement then,’ your father says as he emerges from a corridor. You want to jump into his arms, tears already welling up in the corner of your eyes, but that is not how that day had gone. 

Besides, he has company. 

‘Yes, sir,’ a second man replies. ‘The troops are all ready to go.’ 

‘Brilliant,’ your father says. None of them have realised that you were sat there yet, able to hear every word they said. If they had, they would have sent you away. Not because any of their matters are private or a secret, it is just some light conversation between commanders. They would have sent you away because you, as a lady, have no reason to be bothered by such topics. 

You dare to peek a glance at the men accompanying your father. Like all the others before, they must be some kind of officer; their appearance told you as much. You had seen plenty of these types of men. Your father often invited those who harboured their ships in town. No matter where they were from. Although, they seemed to be wearing similar colours to what the soldiers around your house wore. 

You didn’t know either of the two men’s names that day. Why would you? It was the first time you had seen them in a lifetime full of new faces. And it would be several years until you would see them again. Years that would barely change admiral Carver’s appearance. He had maintained his boyish young looks until the day he died. 

By now, you knew you had fallen deep into a dream, but how much of it was fantasy? It felt like a memory, but why were you haunted by demons? Maybe it was your brain filling in gaps, playing tricks on you, covering up a face you had entirely erased from your memory by one you could never forget. That did not seem right, however. The pieces fell too perfectly into place. Just not in any way, you had expected them to. 

It was a trick. It must be. That was, could, not him, after all. His hair was neatly tied back and much shorter, to begin with. Though mostly covered with the shadow of his brimmed hat, his face was fuller, happier, and clean-shaven. His fingers were clean, and light without the weight of those large silver rings, and his clothes were the pristine uniform of the navy, which could not possibly hide a lifetime of scars and tattoos underneath them. It simply could not be.

And yet, when he catches your eye, that same pair of warm brown eyes catch you off guard. He smiles your way, tipping his hat, saying ‘ma’am’ with a smile before catching up to the rest of his entourage.

You awoke in a sheen of cold sweat, but it might have been the storm's remnants. The gentle feeling of grass blades against your fingers was exchanged into a harch grip on the bedsheets you lay upon. The only thing you could hear was your breathing, but behind that was the tap-tap-tapping of rain against the window. That’s where he stood, leaning against the glass by his side, arms crossed as he looked at you. No expression that you could make out in any sense, not because of the lack thereof, but because the emotions came in abundance.

‘What happened?’ Speaking felt like you had inhaled a bucket of sand instead of water; your throat had wholly dried out. 

‘What do you remember?’ the captain walked over to the bed with a cup of water to hand you, which you took with a shaky hand. 

‘Everything… I think.’ One sip had been enough to heal your drought. ‘There was a storm and a wave—’ 

‘Nearly washed us out,’ Munson filled in the gaps. His voice was steady, emotionless. Somehow, that felt worse than if he had been angry. He was holding back on you. ‘You hit your head and been asleep—we assumed you were sleeping—for six hours. More or less.’ But the longer he kept on talking, the more of a shake you felt in him. How he was holding back the rage that had exploded out of the both of you during the storm.

He continued talking. ‘We should be arriving at the harbour of Saint Claire shortly.’

‘I don’t understand,’ you let your fingers ghost over your forehead, which was wrapped in bandages, and a flash of pain blinded you momentarily. 

‘It’s a small island, not far off course. Safer for the night than the waters.’ The storm had calmed down but had not found its rest just yet. 

‘No, I don’t mean that,’ you said, standing up. 

‘Don’t get up,’ He tried to push you back but decided against making contact, which you took as an opportunity to defy his wishes. 

‘Do not tell me what to do, Munson.’ You were tired of it, and his constant commands made you sick…. Or was it the dizziness you felt as you got up too fast? Munson caught you just in time before you would hit your head again. Only then you realised that his shirt was still wet. It stuck to you like it stuck to him. His hair was a mess too. He must have come out of the rain moments ago.

He set you back up on your feet just to bring you back onto the bed. Once your head stopped spinning, you weakly asked: ‘Is everyone okay?’

‘You seem to have gotten the worst of it.’ 

‘Of course,’ you laughed at your own fortune. ‘Look,’ you made a second attempt to get up, hitting the last of the captain’s nerves.

‘Why won’t you ever listen?’ He grunted as he held you up. 

‘Because I don’t want to.’ You swatted away his hands, letting go of him entirely. ‘Will you stop that!’

‘Stop what?’

‘Pretending like you give a damn about me while we both know that I am not worth a dime of your time..’ 

He sighed, pivoting your tangent. 

‘No, sorry, you have your bounty to look forward to, of course, but don’t worry, I will personally write a letter to my father to tell him to just give you all his money, no matter in what state I return home if you will just leave me alone!’

‘Will you please stop yelling.’ He had his head rolled back, looking up at the ceiling. His fists clenched, and he walked around the room to calm down.

‘No! I am tired of this. All of this. I am tired of being treated like vermin.’

‘Vermin?’ He scoffed this time, turning his head to you in disbelief. ‘I’ve given you my clothes, my bed and two perfectly fine meals every day, and that’s what you think this is?’

‘Yes, and I’m very thankful for that, just as I am for being locked in a cage for days and now—what, you’re isolating me from your entire crew like I have the pest?’

‘I did no such thing!’ He was quick to defend himself from the accusation.

‘So, just Harrington then? Do not lie to me, Munson; I saw how he avoided me the whole time, then tried to not sound as if you had not commanded him to not speak to me.’

‘It was his own will that followed that order. I gave him a choice.’ 

‘What was it, listen or die?’ That sounded about right for you. 

‘We do not kill on this ship,’ he said sternly, seriously, almost more severe than you had ever heard him speak. 

‘Only on every other ship?’ With a snap, the window burst open again, letting in the whistling wind and the last drops of rain into the room, but it went unnoticed by the two of you as all the focus lay in the vicious words you threw back and forth.

‘Only those who deserve it. Yes.’ His face was set in anger, and you backed away, not because of his appearance but what he had admitted to. 

‘What did my men deserve? They were innocent!’’ Everyone on the ship must have heard you if they had not already been listening to the rest of the conversation.

‘Of course, we’re all just innocent men, aren’t we?’ He regained his need for theatrics as he spread his arms invitingly, laughing hysterically. ‘Everyone except for me, that is. I am the big scary monster at the bottom of the sea that you should fear. That’s what I am, right, darling? I’m the monster.’ He also began to get louder with each word, his words slurred with exhaustion. That is when you noticed the bottle on the edge of the desk. The rest of the room lay in disarray, but the bottle stood pristinely on the corner of the oaken desktop, uncorked without anything spilt it, but nonetheless half empty. 

‘Are you drunk?’ You reached for the bottle.

‘You wish, princess.’ He laughed. ‘Then maybe I wouldn’t remember any of this tomorrow. But please, be my guest, drink–’ he pointed at the bottle you were holding, ‘eat, take my clothes, my bed, men, maybe go through all of my belongings once more, read my personal correspondence like its a bloody periodical. Jump of the ship if you please. I do not care.’ He threw his arms up, and something in you tightened. Of course, he knew about you, having read the letter. But should you feel guilty about it now? When he just admitted to targeting your friends? So many things were going through your head, and words you wanted to say to him, but only one question truly encapsulated it all.

‘What is your problem?’ 

‘You.’ He pointed sternly, so there was no confusion on the matter, ‘You are my problem. Have been since the very first day.’

‘Well, if only there had been a solution to that,’ you threw your arms up in faux-surrender, ‘Like maybe, not kidnapping me, or you could have left me to die on my ship or, even better, not ambushing my ship!’ 

‘You were never meant to be on that ship!’ He yelled out, letting out all his frustrations while all of yours disintegrated at that moment, too, as you let his words go through you. The next word you spoke was too overcrowded by confusion to be heard from a distance. 

‘What?’

‘You know you weren’t supposed to be there.’ He blinked, and something in him cracked. A part of him you had never seen before that had come out by mistake and was now vulnerable against everything. ‘It was supposed to be them—him—’ 

‘How do you know that?’ 

‘Because I know them. You speak of what a monster I am, but I know what kind of monsters they are and what they do, and I know you’re not one of them.’ 

‘You don’t know anything about me!’ You gritted your teeth as tears pricked the corners of your eyes. With each sentence spoken between you, unbeknownst to either, utterly subconsciously, you had both pulled at an invisible string. Pulling each other closer and closer until there was nowhere left to pull; the knot tied you down. Inseparable.

Munson looked down at you, the angles of his features suddenly softer, eyes flickering over all the corners of your face. ‘Well, what do you know about me?’

If he had asked you this any other day, any other minute, even if it had been ten seconds before, you would have been able to answer him directly with no hesitation. But, unfortunately, he had asked it right at this moment, as you stood only inches apart. Breathing the same air in and out. Everything around you dampened. It was just you and him. No sound, no light, no touch. Time sped up and slowed down at the same time. You could have stood there for an hour or a second, which would not have mattered.

You were still fighting to find the words when he touched your cheek and pulled you in. His lips practically crashed into yours with the force of a burning sun, and that is what must have burst inside you as he did. All thoughts fizzled away from your mind to the point that the only thing you could think of was his body on yours. The touch between the two of you. His lips on yours, hand on cheek, chest to chest. 

But as smoothly as those thoughts had dissolved, as quickly they rematerialised when he pulled away. And with the moment of clarity, you let your body speak for itself as now your hand met his cheek.

Harshly. 

The impact ghosted your palm as the red mark across his jawline began to form. Following your hand’s movement, he turned his face away but slowly came back to you, and nothing had changed about him. You could not read anything of him. He was a closed book. A tall wall between two cursed lands.

But that is when you realised that something had changed in you. Deep within.

A fracture.

It must have been there for ages, shattering away small pieces here and there as time passed. Each day, no matter how hard you tried to keep them under control, the cracks would grow and grow, ready to burst out whatever it was hiding on the other side. This thing that was hungry for something. Something you had never known you wanted, even needed, but now could not live another second without. As your chest still rose with anger, and the final crack formed, breaking the foundations apart, you leaned in and let your lips meet his for a second time. Without letting another second go to waste, he grabbed you tightly and pulled you in, closing any possible gaps. Bursting through the walls. 

Like a cannon, 

straight through the heart.

The damage was done. 

Chapter 8

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[brighter-by-the-daly]

Millie Bright x Reader

Part One: Lover’s Auction

AN: This turned out so long I’ve decided to turn it into a series.

Prompt: Billionaire reader meets Millie though a charity event, reader bids on one of Millie’s shirts, Millie then asks reader out for drinks (reader spoils Millie) ~ @kayls93

TW: this story is based around reader’s mum who passed away (past tense). No mentions of how/why she died to minimise triggers.

It was the night of the auction your dad had spent all year planning, it was to raise money for his company’s charity in honour of his late wife and your mother. He often hosts big auction nights to celebrate the woman you both loved and lost and this year it’s the 20th anniversary which coincides with your 27th birthday. All your life you’ve only known him to be a manager of some big company in London, it’s meant you’ve led a very comfortable life but never completely understood his job role. You did know that he was very well connected and treats his staff like family - from the moment you were born you were adored by all his colleagues, you made them all aunties and uncles. He would often bring you into work with him as a little girl and enjoyed watching you crawl around his office, dreaming of the day he would hand his empire over to you. After your mum’s death he bought you in everyday for months, he needed somewhere to take his mind off things and knew you loved being fussed over by your extended family. They would sit with you to do homework and talk about the friendship drama at school while your dad worked - he was never short of babysitters!

Your dad is the only man you have ever loved, he knew you would come out years before you actually did. He held you when the tears didn’t stop after your first break up, he attends Pride with you every year and always texts that he loves you at the end of every day. Since your mum passed away he had become your best friend and no other woman has entered his life except for you. Whenever he was invited to work parties or social events you were always his plus one and would parade you around the dance floor standing on his feet as he tapped along to the music. In his eyes, you were a princess and nobody would ever be good enough for you.. or so he thought.

Your dad had been running around all week putting the final touches into place, trying to rally up promo and extra giveaways to make this year’s auction extra special that he hadn’t noticed how down you had been lately. The anniversary was a lot to bare for you - hating the world that your mum wasn’t here to spend your adult days with, often wondering if she would have been your best friend and sad that you’ve missed out on growing up with her. Dad was rushing around the house like a tornado when he stopped in his tracks at the sight of you on the sofa under a blanket. “Honey, why aren’t you dressed?” his tone soft and gentle as he ushered over to join you. “I don’t feel like it dad” you tried to brush off the emotion held in your throat as you stood up to correct his tie. You didn’t know that he knew exactly how tie them himself but your simple act reminds him of the mornings he would kiss your mum goodbye after she corrected it for him. Straightening it down his chest you tiptoed to kiss his cheek “you can buy anything you want?” he said with a cheeky smile as he waved his credit card in the air which was enough to get your attention. Holding out your hand to shake a deal with him you rushed upstairs to your bedroom to see a new dress hanging on your wardrobe, smiling at how dad had got the perfect colour to match your skin tone. Over the years he has had to be your dad and mum; learning how to plait your hair to teaching you why periods happen and buying your first bra, he was practically one of the girls by now. You slipped on your heels and delicately curled your hair but before leaving you snuck into dad’s room, fumbling around on your hands and knees trying to reach under the bed until you felt a velvet box. Blowing the dust off, your fingers traced your mother’s name etched into the woodwork, clicking the latch open the black and white photo of your family hidden inside made you choke up as you chose her favourite necklace to pair with your outfit. You heard dad calling as you straightened your dress in the mirror then made your way down the stairs like you were on your way to prom. Your dad was still rushing around the house to get ready when he suddenly came to a halt at your entrance. “Darling” his voice whimpered as he spotted the pearls around your neck, holding out his arms for one of his famous bear hugs.

Entering the formal occasion you were quickly swamped by your dad’s colleagues, greeting them as Aunty This and Uncle That they gawped at how grown up you looked. Pawing over the “when did you get so big” and pulling at your cheeks like they haven’t seen you in years when you only saw them last week. You instantly felt the glow of love they shared and was so glad you’d came as they showered you both in affection. When the group dispersed you immediately turned to dad with a puppy dog look in your eyes and your hand spread waiting for him to offer up his credit card, pecking him on the cheek when he did and making a beeline for the bar. “My darling (y/n)” the bar lady called as you approached, “hi Aunt Sally” - yet another one of your make believe family. “I’m going to need some ID my dear” the dark skinned woman joked with you. “Aunty, you know I’m nearly 30!” batting your eyelashes at her. “My dear, don’t be wishing your life away, you’re miles off that number yet” her thick Jamaican accent rolled off her tongue like honey. Sipping on your cocktail she asked if you’d had a chance to view what’s on offer yet, you said the bar was your first pit stop as she started listing off some things that she had spotted earlier. Glancing around the room at all the people from your bar stall your attention was caught when you heard her say “vaginal rejuvenation” making you scoff just as you took a big gulp of your drink, trying not to choke the liquid dribbled out of your mouth and back into the glass in the most unladylike manner. Trying to hold your giggles inside she passed you another drink when and said you don’t think your dad would appreciate that purchase on his card!

After a few cocktails and catching up with Sally you wandered over to the rows of items and experiences up for auction. Running your finger along the table your eyes scanned the placards of descriptions; bungee jump – “no”, flying lessons – “no”, lunch with Harry Kane – “who?”, spa day - “hmm..” scribbling your name and bid down before moving on, personal shopper spree - “yes!” enthusiastically setting a high bid that you anticipated wouldn’t be beaten. Moving to the next row you spotted the vaginal rejuvenation Sally was talking about earlier, snickering to yourself as you wrote down her name and a bid. Looking up you saw dad watching you intently, raising his eyebrow as he caught your gaze when you threw him a sarcastic little wave.. you knew he was watching how many items you were bidding on! You finished scrolling past the next few tables until your eyes landed on a pristine condition football shirt. Your fingers stroked the fabric as your brain flooded with memories of simpler times, days where mum would drive you miles to games and sit for hours in all weathers watching you play. Remembering how you would purposely tackle as many people as you could to try and get your kit dirtier than the week before, your mother’s groans rang through your mind when it rained knowing she’d have a hard time beating the stains out. It didn’t take her long to get clued up on your antics because she began packing a change of clothes, threatening to tie you to the roof so you wouldn’t sit in her car in your muddy kit. “Are you gonna bid or stare into space with a weird smile all night?” a voice suddenly made you jump out of memory lane. Still stroking the comfort of the fabric with your thumb and forefinger you answered them, “it just brought back some memories, that’s all” upset that your daydream had been interrupted. You didn’t make eye contact or even look towards the person before scurrying off toward the bathrooms to hide the tears that had started to fall. Hearing your heels click audibly across the wooden floor your dad’s eyes looked on in worry as he could tell something had upset you.

Locking yourself in a stall you tried to dab your eyes without ruining your make up and took some deep breaths to compose yourself before making your way back to the event. Just like when you walked in a few hours earlier you went straight back to the bar, “my sweet child, are you okay?” Sally greeted you with a cocktail she’d already made when she saw you leave the room. “I bid on that treatment you wanted” you laughed, trying to move past what had just happened. Watching Aunty Sal gasp in disbelief but her face turning from embarrassment to amusement made your heart happy as she moved away to serve someone else. Hearing the voice of the person ordering was the same as the one who approached you at the bidding table moments earlier your body tensed up again. You looked up to examine them, catching her eyes as she shuffled closer to you, “erm, I didn’t mean to hit a nerve” she said eyes firmly on her drink. “You didn’t, the shirt did. A nice nerve” you reassured before going on to tell the woman about your childhood days on the pitch and all about your mum. She hadn’t realised that this event was for you, your dad had done business with her a few months ago and had asked for a favour, the woman can never say no to charity, so she says! “Why did you stop.. playing football?” she said quietly, wondering whether that was okay to ask. “It hurt too much not seeing mum there” your voice croaked as you tried to hold back the tears again. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to” she said, placing a comforting hand on your arm. “No, I want to. It was the only place I felt truly happy and then suddenly… it wasn’t” peering into your drink stirring it anxiously with the straw, you were yet to make eye contact with the woman and she must have noticed. She invited you over to a table that was free where you talked about how you’d have a competition of how muddy you could get your kit and soon you were laughing and smiling over the memories rather than letting the sadness take hold.

You spent the rest of the evening talking to your new friend until your dad announced himself on stage, tapping the microphone as it echoed around the room. “That’s my dad!” you hollered from your seat as all eyes found you and the table full of empty glasses. He started muttering into the microphone as he began to read out the winners - “the vaginal rejuvenation goes to Sally!” Laughing to yourself as you stood up and shouted for the woman who’s been the closest thing to a mum you have had for years as she hid her face behind the cocktail shakers in her hands. Dad listed off the final prizes until he reached the last one - “the signed England shirt goes to my beautiful daughter (y/n)” Double taking to check what you heard was correct, your face turned to confusion.. you didn’t bid on it? “I know how much you enjoyed football with your mum and I saw your face as you remembered those times earlier, you were smiling and I hope it helps you hold onto the good times” he said as tears welled in his eyes. “Oh dad!” you whined an alcoholic filled ‘aww’ as you run up onto the stage to hug him. His arm pulled you into his side when he thanked everyone for coming. “From both of us, thank you so much for coming out tonight and raising such an incredible amount of money for an outstanding charity that we hold so close to our hearts. We welcome you to stay as long as you wish, to Marla!” “To mum!” raising your glasses into the air as clinks rattled around the room.

Stumbling back to your seat with the shirt in one hand and a drink in the other. you slumped next to the mystery woman who had turned into your company for the evening. “I think you could use some air” she giggled trying to stop all the glasses from clattering as your hip nudged the table. Nodding reluctantly she held out her arm for you to balance on and walked you out to the car park underneath the street lights. Clicking her car keys made the boot of her car rise by itself, “ohhhh fancy!” your voice echoed at the magical car opening before a hand had even been laid on it. “Think fast!” the blonde shouted as a football came flying towards your face. “What the fuck?!” you yelled dropping the shirt to catch the ball at the last possible second. “You’ve still got it! Didn’t you say you were a goalie?” she smiled. “I played everywhere! I did like being in goal but I preferred tackling people, risky business as a goalie!” instinctively dropping the ball to land on your foot as you started keepy uppys, counting 12 until you got distracted by the woman rummaging in her boot for something else. “If you throw another ball at my face you’re gonna get it!” kicking the ball above your head and catching it under your arm. “Fancy a 1v1?” she appeared behind the boot lid wearing a Chelsea shirt… “with a Chelsea fan? My mum would turn in her grave!” you laughed as she asked who you support. “I was raised on our home team, not the big guns!” you continued to poke fun at her but admitted you hadn’t kept up with the growth of the women’s game, you hadn’t watched a match since your mum’s passing and was very out of touch with the sport. “Arms up!” she instructed as she pulled the new shirt over your head, “first to 5?” You objected at first as you were wearing heels until she suggested moving to the grass verge next to the car park and made the trees the goalposts. Kicking your shoes off to cries of cuteness at how short you really were in comparison to her and tying the skirt of your dress into a knot to be able to move more freely. Little did she know how fiercely competitive you are and how surprised you were that you still knew how to play.. amateur maybe, but it felt good with a ball at your feet even though the cold condensation from the grass tickled your toes. Cheering as you scored your first goal in 20 years it lit a fire in your belly as you went in to tackle her, laughing at how you bounced straight off the broad woman leaving you laid on the ground as she scored too.

You didn’t know your dad was watching from the window as she came to lie down next to you. “Look you’ve got your brand new shirt dirty already!” she cried tugging at the grass stained patch on your side. “My mum would be so annoyed!” you laughed as she pulled you onto her chest. “You’d make a good defender yknow!” you suggested to her, eyes fluttering with tiredness as she stroked your hair. “Good job I am then, aih?” she squeezed you a little tighter, making you sit up immediately alert. “Really?” “Yeah… that’s my shirt you’re wearing” she smirked watching you glance down at the crest displaying three lions as the realisation suddenly broke through your drunk mind. “Shut! Up!” your voice irritatingly loud as all the puzzle pieces started falling into place, “you play for England?!” Shrugging at your question she nodded and snickered before adding “and Chelsea!” Your mouth became wider with each admission, “why didn’t you tell me?” you slapped her arm thinking about what you’ve said, especially taking the piss out of her ‘being a fan’ of the London club. “I just did!” her voice turned high pitch as she raised her hands to display innocence. Your head tilted in a confusion as you tried to work her out. Moments of silence passed as your mind ran through everything you’ve talked about since the beginning of the night. “Did my dad set this up?” you questioned her integrity. “No, not at all” she assured you but you were already looking towards the building that the party was continuing in. Spotting your dad at the window with a huge grin on his face and holding a thumbs up to the glass. Mumbling under your breath you clambered to your feet with your hands on your hips to show him you’re very unamused with him playing Cupid. He displayed a “shoo” action with his hands trying to usher you back to the woman who was also now on her feet. “If I knew who you were why would I say what I did at the auction?” she tried to reassure you. Her question changed your demeanour, looking up at the blonde in a way that showed she had a fair point. “I didn’t think I’d have so much fun tonight, I didn’t plan on staying out this long!” she said packing the ball and her shirt back into the boot of her car. “Oh sorry, you probably have a boyfriend to get home to” untying the knot in your dress. “Girlfriend. Annddd.. nope, just the dogs” your eyebrow raised at her admission which she couldn’t see as you were still trying to make yourself presentable again. Grabbing your hand she turned you around so your back was facing her and wrote something on the back of your shirt. Her fingertips grazed down your arms, tightening around your wrists to lift your arms in the air as she slipped your shirt over your head. Pulling it in the right way she laid it over your hands and pointed at the name she’d scribbled above ‘BRIGHT’ on the back. “Millie” you said squinting to read her hand writing and noticing her phone number written inside the number 6. “Yes, Millie.. nice to meet you” she smiled, holding out her hand to shake yours. “(Y/n), it’s been a pleasure” you joked, holding your dress out and dipping into a curtsy, almost losing your balance when she grabbed your arms to keep you upright. Asking to borrow her pen you delicately wrote your number on her arm like a teenager in school, not registering that it was a marker until the last number. Millie had known the whole time but didn’t stop you, she just wondered how she’d explain it to the girls at training tomorrow.

Part Two

#millie bright #millie bright x reader #lionesses #lionesses x reader #woso x reader #woso masterlist #woso fic #woso community #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso fanfics #wlw fanfic #fanfic series

[canthelpit0]

Enemies (with benefits) PT2

Pairing: Cold!Chris x Reader

Word count : 6.2k +

Summary: Chris and reader have always been enemies ever since they’ve known each other. neither knew why they had this burning feeling in their gut. So one day they decide to fuck it out. Until, eventually doing it regularly

Warnings: swearing, smut, a lot of plot, use of Y/N, FOMO, partying, drinking, smoking (cigarettes, weed), pet names (sweetheart, pretty boy, pretty girl, ma, cherry), name calling (slut), making out, getting caught, p in v, jealous!Reader, jealous!Chris, dom!Chris, unprotected (wrap it before u tap it), spanking, riding, doggy, degradation(?), creampie, slut shaming

(A/N: I wrote this in like a day. so I'm sorry for any grammar mistakes. this was fun to write and ended up way longer than intended. Enjoy 🤭)

PT1 PT2 PT3 PT4 FINAL

Now sitting at my vanity I’m touching up the rest of my makeup. I’ve been invited to some party, even though I said I would distance myself from that kind of stuff. But I was invited and my FOMO was bad enough to make me go.

“You done? The Uber is here.” Evelyn asks. Evelyn is my best friend, and she has been since middle school, she was there for my awkward phases and stuck with me. Now we’re in senior year soon to graduate.

“Yeah I’m coming.”

I say standing up a bit too aggressively than intended. I just really would like to stay home for once and just sleep, but I really can’t.

I don’t even want to go to that goddamn party, but the more time passed the more I thought about how much I’d miss out on.

‘What if something happened and I wasn’t there to see it’

I grab my purse and walk out the door, Evelyn following behind me.

I was wearing a tight, black, mini-dress, that wasn’t as short as the average mini-dress. It is about mid-thigh, but it has a ‘sexy slit’ up my left thigh. And my hair simply down

Evelyn was wearing a simple navy blue mini-dress, that, in her words “has the right amount of glitter on it”. Both of us decked up in jewelry.

Evelyn has her hair bleached, almost platinum blonde. She wears a lot of heavy makeup, but she looks gorgeous with it. Her eyes are dark adding a good contrast.

The first time Evelyn dyed her hair was in like 8th grade. To go from her dirty blonde a little lighter. Until eventually doing it so many times, going lighter and lighter until she ended up here, platinum blonde. But it suits her.

We walk out of my house, the Uber already there like she’d said.

And while I’m still thinking about why I even agreed to this, and ‘oh, it won’t be that bad’ , and ‘I do this all the time anyway’ , we arrive.

“Girl” Evelyn nudges me nodding to the window, and when I turn my head we’re here. I open the car door, and as soon as I do I can already hear the faint hum of the music coming from inside. I slide out of the backseat, Evelyn following behind me, after paying and tipping the driver.

We step up to the porch, and people in the front yard were already throwing up and smoking and whatnot. After all, we came fashionably late.

As soon as we Walk in the intense smell of alcohol and weed washes over me.

I started to question if this was actually a good idea. But when I look over at Evelyn the blonde is already looking over the crowd of people. She looks excited, and I can’t help the sigh that I let out.

Nobody seems to hear it anyway, the music is too loud.

“Go have fun,” Evelyn says over the music elbowing my side.

I roll my eyes looking over at her, a small smile crossing my lips as I chuckle. “You too. I’ll see you later.” I answer loudly smiling back at her before she nods eagerly.

Evelyn isn’t a bad friend at all. She’s great. Just at parties, I would much rather not stand next to her while she is flirting with some dude.

I tell her everything. Always. Except for the fact that me and Chris hook up. It’s kind of a more secret thing, especially since Evelyn knows how much we hate each other. It’s hard to explain. The feeling, the things that he makes me feel. So I don’t even try.

I watch her fade into the crowd starting to make my own way into the party.

It was a simple house party some random popular rich kid was throwing. Nothing special.

I make my way to the kitchen, brushing past drunk and sweaty teenagers.

Parties are way more enjoyable when you’re drunk.

So I pore myself some shots to get myself started.

I down another shot, feeling like the two I already took weren’t enough. I put down the shot glass more aggressively than needed, my face contorting in disgust at the liquid burning down my throat.

I look over at the bottle of tequila on the counter next to me. I sigh steadying myself on the counter my arms holding me up. I look down for a moment already feeling the alcohol kick in. The music started to sound louder, ringing in my ears.

I sigh standing up straight again. I can feel the effects starting. My eyes scan the room, looking for any familiar faces, or anyone cute..

With how much I party I handle my shots pretty well.

I furrow my eyebrows walking around the kitchen island to the living room where most people are, crowded in the middle, dancing and whatnot.

I see Evelyn there, and she’s just dancing so I join her.

After a while I excuse myself. I need some fresh air. I’d been offered one too many beers and I was feeling way more drunk than I wanted to be.

I really don’t wanna go home completely drunk.

I push my way through the crowd of teenagers, making my way to the back door. Getting out, the fresh air hits me like a truck. It feels like I can breathe again.

I step down the porch, sitting down at the steps of the back porch leaning against the railing slightly.

The fresh air feels sobering, but the sips from my red solo cup keep me drunk. I think it’s some sort of beer, but honestly, with the amount of different alcohol I’ve had tonight, I can’t even tell the difference.

Suddenly I feel a presence next to me. I look over to see a brunette boy.

Ethan Marlo.

He’s the school's resident stoner. The leader of the other skater boys. He’s been caught smoking on school grounds so many times.

And while I was certainly not innocent either, at least I didn’t go and get caught.

His hair is long and messy brown… -reminds me of Chris’.. no it’s too curly for that...

His eyes are brown but somehow sharp like he was staring into my soul, and judging everything he saw.

I’d talked to him a few times before, nothing worth noting though. But from what interaction I’ve had with him he was nicer than he looks.

He may just have a resting bitch face.

“Hey?” I ask when he doesn’t say anything.

I watch him pull the cigarette from his lips blowing the toxic smoke away.

“Hi.”

I watch as he puts the cigarette back between his lips. I raise an eyebrow watching him. Waiting for him to speak. To tell me why he is sitting next to me.

But he doesn’t.

“Do you talk?” I ask slightly annoyed at having my alone time interrupted cause some random kid sat down.

“Yeah.” He mumbles against his cigarette taking another puff.

He pulls the cigarette from his lips and blows away the smoke before looking at me again.

“I’m Ethan.” He smiles slightly.

“I know.”

Almost everybody knows Ethan. The kid’s a troublemaker. Teachers hate him. He’s a problem child and people know him for that. And he’s not exactly ugly or anything either.

“Now sweetheart, this would be the moment when you introduce yourself.” He sounds sarcastic almost like he was fucking with me.

“Y/n” I say simply staring back at him as he gives me a goofy grin.

I’m not popular in school, but people still know me. They know who I am because mainly Chris and I would always argue. And people know Chris.

Girls are all over him. Asides from the obvious fact that he’s a triplet and most people think that’s interesting. Most people also think he’s hot.

But most people at our school are stupid anyway.

“You want one?” He asks nodding down to the cigarette in his hands.

It wasn’t like I’d never smoked before, but I’m not a smoker.

I shrug letting out a small “Why not”

I look back at Ethan, and I feel him cup my face with his hand. My lips parted in shock. he chuckles, He places his cigarette between my lips.

When he takes his hand off of my face I raise an eyebrow at him, taking the cigarette between my pointer and middle finger as I inhale it.

Taking the cigarette from my lips I go to speak again. I breathe out the smoke.

“Dude” I sigh, my tone sounds flatter than intended. but whatever.

I pause for a moment taking another drag. He was always known to carry some weed.

“You got any weed?” I ask handing him the cigarette.

He chuckles pulling out an already rolled blunt and tossing it over to me. “You’re pretty you know that?”

He says looking back at me. I raise my eyebrow picking up the rolled blunt and putting it in my purse. “Oh yeah?”

It sounds more cocky than it did in my head but oh well.

I probably look really cocky right now. With the way, I’m leaning back against the higher step behind me.

But whatever. Honestly, I’m too drunk to care.

I put the cigarette back between my lips breathing in the toxic smoke.

Okay, maybe crossfaded.

Pulling the cigarette from my lips, I hold it between two fingers as I take a sip of my drink in my solo cup.

“Yeah”

He looks at me like he genuinely thinks I’m pretty. And honestly, I like the attention, but I don’t know if I actually like it. It feels weird. But I don’t know if that’s just me being drunk and oblivious or something.

I hand him over the cigarette and he takes it from my fingers, taking a drag of it.

“You’re interesting.”

The words leave my lips before I know. He was. I don’t think he was middle class at all. And he was a stoner and a skater, of course, he is interesting.

“Is that a compliment?” He chuckles watching me as he smokes his cigarette.

I chuckle. I feel like I’m sobering up too much.

“Imma go inside pretty boy.”

And with that I’d gotten up, half stumbling to the door. As soon as I'm inside I brush through crowds of people.

Oh wow, that dude looks like Chris

I stop in my tracks as I narrow my eyes at the couple making out in the corner of the living room.

Hold on that is Chris.

Who the fuck is he kissing.

Poor girl

They shift slightly and even from across the room I can tell that he’s deepening the kiss.

I wait to see if they shift enough for me to see her face.

Chris turns her around, pinning her to the wall by her neck. Her entire face is in view.

Charlotte Baker.

I’ve known Charlotte since kindergarten. Chris had too. But I’ve known Chris longer than she has.

I thought he wasn’t into blondes?

I wouldn’t care who he kisses, we’re not exclusive or anything. But him kissing the very embodiment of what he is not into? The person I hate the most?

Well okay, I don’t really hate Charlotte. I severely dislike her. She’s a bitch. No literally. She’s always so rude. But I don’t know if that’s just me. She seems to have a particular hatred towards me.

They continue making out and honestly, I don’t want to see him stick his tongue down her throat- like he had done to me so many times.

I blink aggressively. I realize that people have been brushing past me and that I’d been staring so I move out of the way.

Leaning against the wall of the living room, right opposite where Chris has her pinned. I’m watching them. I know I am. But I can’t pull my eyes away from them.

It feels like I only have tunnel vision on them. And honestly I don’t know who I feel bad for more.

Chris, for kissing Charlotte, knowing she’s a bitch.

Or Charlotte, knowing she’s making out with a guy whose motto is literally ‘hit and quit’.

I can feel my throat burning as I sip on my red solo cup, which is probably filled with beer.

I sigh, I really need to sober up

I push myself off the wall shaking my head slightly. I go to the kitchen, pushing through the teens in my way. Honestly, I don’t know what time it is, but do I care tho.

I pour the liquid in the red solo cup down the drain, watching it. I lean against the counter over the sink closing my eyes for a second to stay focused.

But all I can really think of is Chris and Charlotte making out just a room away. And the thought disgusts me to the point I wanna throw up, but that could also be the alcohol.

God, I wish I could string together a coherent thought.

I glance over my shoulder. The kitchen is open to the living room and entry but from where I’m standing I can’t see them.

I go to the fridge pulling out a water bottle. The bottle is cold against my skin, and suddenly I’m aware of how I feel like I’m burning up.

With shaky hands, I open the bottle of water taking a sip. Letting the cold water flow down my throat and ease the burn of the alcohol I’d been drinking.

I blind furiously stare at the wall trying to sober up drinking half the bottle.

I sigh my eyes drifting back to the living room. I feel more sober than I did five minutes ago.

I can’t see them, so I walk to the other side of the kitchen trying to get a view of where they were without having to go back to the living room.

They’re not there.

My thoughts immediately go to dirtier places. Shaking my head I furrow my eyebrows, my body tensing up before I realize.

Fuck, ew, I don’t wanna think of that. The fuck.

I take another sip of the water trying really hard to sober up more.

But before I know it, I’m already stumbling up the steps.

So maybe I’m not as sober as I thought, what about it.

I think I’d decided to go upstairs to relax instead of outside because Ethan was still outside. And honestly, I’d left him, so if I came outside again he’d surely ask why I came back right?

I open a random door, leaning against the doorway. Staring into the room my eyes squinted.

Until my eyes fall on Chris… with Charlotte.

Them, making out, Charlotte on top of him while she is fumbling to undo his belt.

Chris’ eyes snap open staring at me. While kissing her. My jaw clenches as I stand frozen not moving to leave like I should’ve.

He breaks the kiss slightly, pushing Charlotte away but not letting go.

“Y/n. Leave”

His gruff voice says and my mouth opens to speak but nothing comes out.

When Charlotte hears my name, and sees he’s looking past her she looks over her shoulder her eyes locking her with mine.

A disgusted look crossed my face. Not that it was intentional, but Jesus was this sight ircking.

Did I look like that when I’m on top of Chris? Ew.

I shake my head slightly turning on my heel, slamming the door behind me.

Okay, maybe dealing with Ethan would’ve been easier than ever having to witness that.

I walk downstairs. That sight sobered me up more than all the water I just drank.

I card through the people again now annoyed with how many people are here. Christ i just want to be alone somewhere.

Going back outside I sit back down next to Ethan. He had moved to the side where I had been sitting. And now he was smoking some weed.

“Back already?”

His tone sounds amused, and now that I’m more sober I can clearly see him checking me out.

“You mind?” I raise an eyebrow turning more towards him. my eyes scanning his face.

He had those dark brown eyes. They were droopy and he had heavy bags under them. His hair did remind me of Chris’, it was almost the same shade. His hair was curlier than Chris’ tho and probably also a little longer. His jawline is sharp and-

Why the hell am I comparing this random cute skater boy to Chris?

“No” he chuckles and looks at me.

He looks kind, honestly.

I lean over taking the blunt from between his lips and putting them between my own.

“What, did you already smoke the blunt I just gave you?”

“So what if I did?”

I didn’t. It was still in my purse, but he didn’t need to know that. Maybe he’ll give me more.

I pull the blunt from my lips blowing the smoke right in his face. But he doesn’t even flinch at it.

He’s a stoner, of course, he wouldn’t.

He chuckles watching me, taking the blunt from my lips before I can take a drag. Grinning, he puts it between his own lips.

“ ‘ts fine. I have more” he mumbles around the blunt before inhaling properly.

“I see that” I chuckle watching him as he takes a drag.

He looks pretty like that. He looks painfully similar to Chris tho. He could almost be their lost brother. If he put in blue contacts that is.

That’s a stupid thought-

“So, you know the party is inside right? What’re you doing here?” I ask my curiosity taking over.

He chuckles blowing the smoke into my face like I had previously done to him. He puts the blunt between my lips.

“Don’t question me, pretty girl.” He chuckles. I raise an eyebrow but inhale from the blunt. Watching him pull the blunt to his own lips as I exhale.

“Yeah,” I chuckle watching him. I feel more sober than before, but the weed is making me feel things again. “Mhm, so don’t question me either.”

He raises an eyebrow, pulling the blunt from his lips. But before he can ask anything I'm climbing into his lap.

He’d been sitting there all sprawled out. And the weed was starting to hit me. I don’t know why I’d get on the lap of this random, hot, interesting guy. But, why not?

And if Chris can fuck someone else, I might as well have fun too.

He doesn’t tense up, probably as high as me, if not even more. He looks up at me on his lap looking so kissable.

Those lips that look like Chris’ are driving me crazy

“Making moves on me now sweetheart?” He chuckles putting the blunt between his lips again as he takes another drag. His eyes are already red, and mine are probably starting to get red too.

“Don’t act like you haven’t been flirting with me”

I answer without thinking. Being high, and slightly tipsy from earlier was making me bolder. And the way he looks at me gives me an ego boost.

I pull the blunt from his lips after he takes a drag of it. I chuckle, putting the blunt between my own lips and taking a drag.

“Oh but have I?”

After inhaling I pull the blunt from my lips. Putting it out on the porch steps next to us.

I lean over him my hand cupping his jaw as I kiss him blowing the weed smoke into his mouth.

Except we never pull apart. his hand goes to the back of my neck and my waist, as we start to make out heavily.

My arm wraps around his neck the other one holding him by his jaw as the kiss turns even more hearted.

His hand starts to tail down my waist, to my thigh. My left thigh. His hand grazes my bare skin, getting dangerously close to my ass, and my lacy thong than I would like.

We probably look like we’re trying to devour each other. Well, that’s at least how I feel. Until-

“What the fuck?”

Chris.

I pull away from Ethan abruptly. He looks at my face, then to where I am looking.

Chris is standing there in all his glory. His arms crossed, as he stands in front of the back door. All the way at the top of the steps, on the porch, looking down at us.

I clench my jaw. I wanna ignore him and go back to what I was doing but he was giving me that look. That look that promised trouble. He was telling me to come to him, without telling me.

I lean against Ethan pecking his jawline.

“I gotta go pretty boy”

I mumble under my breath before getting up from where I’d been on his lap and walking the few steps up the porch.

My tiny handbag is on my arm as I walk towards Chris. I pull down the back of my dress as I feel Chris' harsh grip on my upper arm.

“Upstairs you’re gonna regret that.” He says under his breath leaning in slightly so I can hear him.

I purse my lips opening the backdoor and walking in. Chris’ hand stays on my arm pulling me upstairs.

We enter some random room.

The same room that he fucked her in.

He presses a kiss to my head, leaning over me to undo the lace at the back of my dress. The back of the dress wasn’t open, but it had a lace to make it tight.

“You were gonna let him fuck you huh?” He mumbles kissing my jaw.

He locks the door and pulls his shirt over his head.

“Did you fuck her?” The words leave my lips before I think about it. I’m still high from all the weed I’d smoked.

“No.” He says pointedly. My eyes started to trail down his chest. A sight I’ve seen so many times before. “You cockblocked me”

He leans in kissing me as I just kiss back letting him take the lead.

“Did I?” I mock back. My tone is mildly condescending. My eyes glued on his. Those blue eyes piercing through my soul, he looks like he wants to eat me alive

“Yeah. How about you make it up to me, hm?” He says. His tone was ever so condescending and cocky.

I hadn’t even known he’d be at this party. And that makes me think, he was never the type to drink, so he was probably wanting to get laid.

But why wouldn’t he just call me?

I also hadn’t seen Nick or Matt anywhere, so I would assume that he’s here alone.

He hadn’t told me he’d be here. And honestly, I wouldn’t expect him to. After all, I still hate him, and he obviously hates me.

Before I can reply to his question his lips crash on mine again. My arms wrap around his neck, his hands firmly on my waist.

He pulls away from the kiss. He leans down to the hem of my dress to pull it over my head. I slip out of the dress as he just throws it somewhere carelessly. It landed next to his discarded shirt.

“Want you to ride me Ma”

“Yeah?” I raise an eyebrow. Looking him over. He starts to undo his jeans sliding out of them.

He looks over my lacy panties and matching bra. They’re plain black and simple. But Chris likes them.

Chris likes my body, but he hates me.

Before I know it we’re on the bed, Chris under me. I hover over his dick, as I slowly slide down in it.

I watch as Chris sighs throwing his head back further into the pillow under his head watching me.

“You like that?” I scoff. My words come out more rough and disgusted than I intended. He just.. god his existence pisses me off.

“Yeah ma,” his tone is sharp from the heavy breaths he’d been taking.

I lean down to him to kiss him. His hand stays on my waist while my hand is on his chest the other one next to his head to steady myself.

He suddenly grabs my face, holding me by my chin. I look down at him waiting for him to talk.

“Where you gonna fuck him like this too?”

He asks his tone sharp still. But now because he is disgusted and angry, not because he’s breathing hard.

“No. Fuck me like you mean it”

He snaps staring back up at me. He lets go of my face pushing me back. I scoff leaning away to sit up again. His hand goes back to my waist waiting for me to move.

I start to move on it again. Slowly grinding into him. My hand which had been next to his head, trails from his collarbone down his chest to his abdomen. Until I pull my hand off of him.

I start to bounce on it more. Now, not just rocking my hips, but fully riding him.

“Yeah, fuck yourself on my dick like the fucking slut you are.”

I hear his breaths get sharper again. His hand trails lower to my hips as he starts to pull me down, intensifying my movements.

I can feel him hit my cervix with every thrust. This angle is heavenly.

The harder I start to ride him, the harsher his grip on my hips gets.

I feel a knot building In my stomach. My movements get sloppier as a result. My eyes shut for a moment as my mouth falls open.

Suddenly I feel a harsh slap on my ass. My eyes snap open as I glare down at Chris.

“Keep those pretty eyes on me.” He says lowly, his voice gruff and laced with lust

I feel him start to move me more than I move myself. “Fuck- Chris” I breathe out as I fall forward. My hands landed on each side of his head to steady myself. My moans echoed through the room.

He starts to fuck up into me. thrusting into my core, while moving me on him to watch his pace. His eyes are locked to where we connect, to where he is fucking me.

“I’m so close-“ I breathe out staring down at him. His pretty blue eyes meet mine again.

“Go on. cum for me, slut”

He starts to pick up pace even more, if that was even possible. The eye contact makes this just that much more intense.

He glances down at my lips and then licks his own. My mouth falls open in a silent Moran watching him, not daring to close my eyes.

At this point, I had fully drowned out the sound of the music from the party downstairs. It was already only a mild hum as we got upstairs. But now this intense feeling of being filled like this was making me forget anything and everything, other than the boy currently under me.

“Come” he demands. I feel another harsh slap on my ass, making y body jolt.

The knot in my stomach snaps. My entire body tenses and I struggle to keep myself up

But Chris holds me in place as he fucks me through it, the continuous brush to my cervix only intensifying the pleasure further.

He slows down, not moving anymore as I come down from my high. This type of high felt better than any drug ever could.

I sit up wincing at the fact that he was still buried deep inside of me.

“Should’ve known I was gonna end up fucking you anyway” he chuckles watching my expression.

He pulls me up slightly, his length slipping out of me. before abruptly switching our positions. He is now on top of me staring down at him.

He taps my arm grinning. “Turn around for me Cherry.”

Cherry, a nickname he had given me when we were just six or so. I’d been eating a bunch of cherries that summer. Chris had loved the fruit, but he hated me. So to mock my love for them he started calling me Cherry.

And it stuck. His brothers also called me that. And then later my other friends. And then basically everyone I knew, and was close to.

It was a cute nickname. But the nickname was born out of hatred and annoyance. Even tho Chris had loved cherries as much as I had, he’d pointedly stopped eating them after that year of my obsession with them.

I’ll see him sometimes have one, but he would never admit that he still liked cherries.

I hum still catching my breath as I turn around.

I prop myself up on my hands and knees, looking over my shoulder. His hand rubbed over my ass. Him deliberately running his length up my slit to coat it in my juices again.

He looks up his eyes meeting mine. And before I knew it he was ramming into me. My eyes widen as I turn to look back in front of me. He immediately picks up a steady and fast pace.

Fucking into me from behind. My core was throbbing around his length, either from too much stimulation, or too little..

He starts to rock his hips into me harder. My moans echo through the room loudly.

My arms start to shake as I struggle to keep myself up.

He grabs my hair roughly, putting it into a makeshift ponytail. He starts to pull on it, using it both as leverage, but also to hold me up.

“Such a tight cunt, all for me” he chuckles using his free hand to spank my ass again.

I clench at the dirty words. And the way his low voice is laced with so much obvious arousal and lust. And the way he is thrusting into me from behind.

If I had to guess I’d probably say, anything from behind is his favorite. Doggy, face down ass up, whatever.

I don’t know if that I’d because he doesn’t want to see me, or if he is just an ass guy, or both, but it doesn’t matter, since it feels good.

He slams into me harshly again, before stopping his movements. I groan in annoyance. I feel the knot in my stomach fades.

Was he fucking edging me now too?

“C’mon” he says harshly slapping My ass again. “Work that ass”

Before I know it I’m already moving. Thrusting my ass back into him. Twerking back on his dick. He tugs at my hair again. I feel his stare at my ass. He was probably looking over the way his big dick disappeared into me.

“Yeah, good girl,” he says in that low sexy tone. His hand moves out of my hair, tailing down to my waist. His other hand trailed from my hip to my waist too.

Suddenly he holds me still and starts to thrust into me again. His thrusts were seemingly harsher than they were before.

I squeal out a moan, my head turning to look over my shoulder.

His pretty eyes focused on my ass. His grip was harsh on my waist. He lets out harsh breaths.

I feel him move slightly, readjusting, his hand going to the small of my back to arch my back slightly. His thrust picks up again and I instinctively Lean lower. My hands quickly guided out making my face fall onto the pillow.

But instead of trying to get up again, I simply lay my upper body down, my arms wrapping around the pillow.

I moan and whine his name over and over again. He has the best mix of sweet and dirty talk. Always degrading but also praising me at the same time.

My back arches back into him “Chris- I’m close” I whine loudly getting cut off by another string of moans leaving my lips.

“Hold it.” He grits out. His hips snap into me harder. His dick grazed every spot making me feel like I’m in heaven. “I’m close too”

The sound of skin clapping and the dirty wet sounds coming from my cunt is loud. He slaps into me repeatedly, my eyes starting to water from the effort it takes not to come at the spot.

“You’re not gonna come before me” he demands his thrusts getting more sloppy and messy. I can feel his dick twitching inside of me as I know he is close too. normally he'd just let me whenever, but it was really dependent on his mood

“Understood, be a good slut and listen ‘aight?” He scoffs his grip on my waist bruising.

I throw myself back in him, meeting his thrust.

“Yes, god- please” I whine. And suddenly I feel Chris’ hips stutter. With one last thrust, I feel his load spill into me.

I continue to move myself back against him tho, feeling my own orgasm wash over me.

He pulls out slowly, but not really gently. He watches for a moment as our combined juices leak out of me.

I sigh heavily trying to catch my breath as I lay down on this stranger's bed fully.

I turn to my side for a moment. Chris rubs over my side and back. He leans down leaving a short peck on my ribs. Caressing my skin.

My eyes meet his again, and he looks… cold.

He doesn’t look like he’d just fucked me. He just looked at me blankly. The caressing didn’t feel like it was out of care and a will to comfort, but rather a force of habit.

He gets up from the bed, and I just watch him as he gets some tissues cleaning himself off quickly before getting dressed again.

I sigh turning full onto my back to stare up at the ceiling. This would be when he leaves.

Fuck, what if Evelyn noticed me going upstairs with Chris?

She knows we hate each other. It’s hard to explain. But I can’t just explain everything to her, it’s a secret. Id have to come up with some excuse and-

“Get up” his harsh voice breaks me out of my trance, my head snapping towards him.

“What?” I ask back flatly, my mind not registering why he is still standing there with his arms crossed.

I feel a chill run up my spine from how cold and uncaring he looks with that glare. The one he always gives me when we’re arguing.

“Get the fuck up? Did you lose that many brain cells?” He scoffs looking back at me.

I glance down at my nude body and then back at Chris. I try to get up as carefully as possible. Trying to get as little as possible of our juices onto this stranger's bed.

I mildly struggle to stand, leaning back at the bed frame to keep myself up straight.

He looks almost proud of the state he put me in. But the disgust in his eyes is stronger.

“Why the fuck are you still here?”

My tone is low but still harsh. I close my eyes for a second, sighing in annoyance.

He looks around the room, before fining and picking up my previously discarded panties.

He licks his teeth for a second before huffing.

He opens them for me. I raise an eyebrow, but ultimately just step through the thong, my hands on his shoulders for support. I let him Pull it up.

Cringing at the feeling of the lingering creampie and the fabric on me.

He wasn’t gonna a bother cleaning me?

“Go on.” He huffs looking back into my eyes as I look into his.

“Walk downstairs, go back to that party, back to that dude. Let him fuck you.” He shrugs his words harsh. He back up slightly looking down at my thighs where he can still see the juices run down my thighs.

“I’m sure you’d like having more than one guy cum in you, right?” He mocks leaning into me again. His glare burns into my face, making me feel like I’m naked, which I am.

“Since you’re such a slut, you probably wouldn’t mind fucking more than one guy right?”

He scoffs leaning away abruptly.

I look at him. My shock subsides as a glare settles on my face. I get that he likes degrading me or whatever, But does he actually think I’m that much of a slut.

“Go on, cherry.” He scoffs tilting his head as he looks over his shoulder his gaze locked on mine.

Why does he always have to ruin good moments?

“Fuck you, Chris.” I say back harshly my tone purely rude.

“Oh, you already have.”

I pause dumbfounded.

I didn’t mean it literally. But I mean I had done that, literally.

The harsh smack of the door catches my attention. I lock back over at the door.

He had left.

God, in hindsight that was a stupid insult. I could’ve said something more creative.

I purse my lips staring a f the door. Before my eyes trail over the now-empty room. The room was pretty neat, except for my clothing scattered around.

Right when I think I tolerate him,

Right after he makes me feel so good,

He’ll do the simplest thing,

And ruin it.

God I hate him.

Masterlist

A/N: looks like this is going to be a series lol

‼️please don’t copy my work/idea‼️

Taglist: @muwapsturniolo , @sturnad , @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 , @evie-sturns , @me09love , @fratbrochrisgf , @spideylovin

#Spotify #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x y/n #chris sturniolo x you #chris x reader #christopher sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #christopher sturniolo smut #sturniolo smut #fanfic series

[incognit0slut]

Right Kind of Wrong (1)

Reader never thought she would be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: Reader and Spencer face the aftermath of their tryst. wc: 2,8k

Series Warnings: 18+ explicit content, graphic details of murders, mentions of suicide, mentions of SA

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

"YOU NEED TO LEAVE."

Since when did her life come to this?

She wasn't sure what to make of when the words softly left his lips. The words weren't exactly pronounced in a way that the urgency was prominent, but she could still sense the weight of them as she stared into the dark walls of his bedroom, sprawled out across the bed of this foreign man she had spent the past two hours with.

What was his name again? Stephen? Sean? Or was it Sebastian?

It definitely started with an S.

Her eyes slowly made their way toward him, eying his tall figure as he carefully walked over to his drawers. He awkwardly tripped over a piece of her clothing which lay on the floor before mumbling some incoherent words. He shot her a dubious look past his shoulder and turned his body away, quickly grabbing the first thing he saw on top of his pile of clothes.

His sudden modesty seemed amusing to her when it was barely minutes ago they had shared the sex-induced fantasy of sharing body heat between complete strangers. It was as if he wasn't the one thrusting above her, eyes glazed in desire and mouth open in ecstasy, reaching the peak of his high with her legs wrapped around his narrowed waist.

Surely he hadn't forgotten all of that?

She prompted herself on her elbows and found the piece of clothing he had grabbed in his haste was a pair of brown pants and a nice clean dark shirt. She watched him again and under her scrutinizing gaze, he backed away even further.

His sudden discomfort should've offended her, but it didn't. Somehow it intrigued her how much he was trying to be oblivious of everything around him—the lustful tryst that took place moments ago. The naked woman under his covers. The sudden shrill of his phone ringing on the bedside table.

The latter seemed to catch his attention as he glanced at the source of sound with an alert expression. He crossed the room and quickly answered the call.

"Yes?" There was a muffled reply from the other end before he glanced at the still-naked woman staring at him with curiosity. He cleared his throat again and gave her a look. "I need to take this."

She shrugged. "Sure."

She saw him hesitate for a split second before slipping out of his room, throwing a short reply to the receiving end of his call that didn't go unheard. "Yes, Garcia, I have company." More mumbling. "What? I'm not answering that..."

His words were cut off as he closed the door behind him, leaving her to grasp the situation she had put herself in.

Having a one-night stand wasn't something she often did. She wasn't sure it ever happened again since her freshman year of college when sleeping with a senior at a raging party would solidify her college experience. It seemed right at that time. It was what everybody was doing and her innocent mind believed it was a good idea to expand her nonexistent romantic life.

New place, new experience, new beginnings.

The experience wasn't so bad. Brandon Wallace—who was now happily married according to his recent social media post—wasn't exactly the best lover she ever had, but he also wasn't that bad. It was the awkward moment after the endeavor that made her avoid any repeated situations with somebody she barely knew.

Which was why she was questioning why she let that exact avoidance happen tonight. Why she had stepped into her favorite bar on a random Wednesday night and laid her eyes onto the awkward man sitting a few stools away from her.

Maybe it was the way he seemed out of place. Wearing a crisp blue shirt and a vest over it, he sat in a poised manner while constantly wiping down the bar counter with the napkin he seemed to keep requesting the bartender for.

She was there because she needed the kick of alcohol to calm down the stress from her current work assignment. Jamison, her strict boss who didn't take no for an answer, was starting to make her consider the act of murder. But committing such a heinous crime wasn't exactly nifty, so alcohol was the safe bet.

And thus, what was he here for? The cold beer sitting in front of him was barely touched as he looked around the room in a very uncomfortable manner.

Maybe the fact that she was sitting in an almost empty bar had loneliness wash over her, or maybe it was the alcohol finally kicking in, that she found herself making her way over to him. She was only going to greet him, introduce herself, and remark on how he stuck out like a sore thumb when he clearly was trying to keep to himself.

The hue of the bar lights reflected into a golden halo around his head. She slid beside him, tipped her drink towards his way, and gave him a simple smile.

He shifted in his seat and turned sideways, throwing her a questioning look. Up close, she could see his features clearly. The sharpness of his jaw, his hooded eyes, the unruly mess of brown hair on top of his head. She could tell he wasn't sure how to react to her sudden appearance, but he didn't seem to mind.

She sat there, her lips inching wider at the frown forming on his brows. How could someone be awkward yet adorable at the same time? Y/n was about to introduce herself when he suddenly sat forward, threw her a hesitant smile, and slowly asked, "Do you have any change?"

The random question startled her. "Excuse me?"

"I... I need to pay for my drink."

She shot him a ludicrous look, not sure she was hearing him right. Was he really trying to ask a stranger to pay for his drink? So much for spending the night with what looked like good company. But before she could counter her disappointment, he reached out his hand and in a swift motion revealed a ten-dollar bill from the back of her ear.

"Never mind.” He waved the money in front of her face and cleared his throat. “Found it.”

She blinked, once, twice, trying to comprehend the past few seconds. Then her lips twisted into a wide grin, his own lips twitching into a shy smile.

His attempt at an introduction based on a silly magic trick tugged her heart in a way that had her leaning closer, fingers tracing across his other hand that rested on the table. She didn't know what had impulsed her to be so brazen. It was very unlike her to show interest in the opposite sex, but here she was, touching the warmth of his skin.

But then his breath hitched and her stomach dropped. What the hell was she thinking? Touching a complete stranger without consent as if she was trying to maul him in public.

She shook her head and backed away, an apology already hanging at the tip of her tongue when he suddenly leaned in and wrapped a hand around her wrist. The gesture was very innocent, but somehow his fingers manage to burn her skin. She looked up and held his gaze, found the same bashful smile still playing on his lips, and relaxed at the warmth radiating from his body.

And then the rest was history, to say the least.

Yet even after the travel from the bar to his place, after the haste of removing each other's clothes, and after the post-orgasm that left them both satisfied—although to be completely honest, she would've been more satisfied if he'd let her have her second orgasm—she was starting to question her decision.

She finally threw his covers away and slipped out of his bed. She picked up all her clothing scattered around the room and slowly dressed herself as she carefully tried to listen to the conversation in the other room. But all she heard was muffled voices, and deciding that she couldn't pick out his exact words, she tuned out his voice and smoothed down her hair with her fingers.

Feeling more presentable, she stepped out of his room and finally took in the personal space he lived in. Now that she wasn't preoccupied with unbuckling his belt, she realized how dark his apartment actually was.

There were stacks of books lined up on the walls and scattered papers laying around every corner. He clearly wasn't a clean freak. Although he did seem to dislike public spaces, and honestly she couldn't argue on that when her mind considered the sticky, sugary residue that coated the floorboards and every other surface of the bar.

His hushed voice sounded aggravating and she turned to find him standing in what looked like his kitchen, his back facing her. Not wanting to interrupt him, she decided to look around her surroundings, eying the few framed certificates hanging on one side of his walls. There were a lot of certified achievements he was definitely very proud of with his name glorified on each frame.

Dr. Spencer Reid.

His name was Spencer!

She let out a chuckle. She wasn't exactly good at remembering names. Hold on—doctor Spencer Reid?

Her eyes went wide. But before she could feed her curiosity, she heard footsteps coming closer behind. She quickly turned away and found him glaring at his phone as he strode into the room.

"Bad call?"

Spencer—it was nice to finally put a name on him—abruptly looked up. His eyes studied her in bewilderment as if realizing she was still there. Then his expression slightly softened as he threw his phone away on his couch. "Not really, it was a work thing."

She raised her eyebrows. "You still work this late?"

"I don't exactly have a scheduled working hour."

There were a lot of questions she wanted to ask. What kind of work did he have to be getting calls this late? Why was he inside that bar when he clearly looked like he didn't want to be there? Was he really a doctor? And why did he look so adorable with that frown across his face?

There was something strange and hollow in his eyes that she couldn't quite put on as his hand rubbed over the back of his neck. She could sense the awkwardness stretching between them and needed to fill in the silence.

"So..."

"So..."

She let out an awkward laugh. He, on the other hand, started to fumble with his words as he suddenly spoke, "Did you know that awkward silence is the result of a disconnect between people?" She peered up at him with raised eyebrows. "When there is nothing to say, or maybe one person feels uncomfortable in a situation and doesn't know how to respond."

She blinked in confusion. But he wasn't finished.

"Statistically speaking, 80% of communication is nonverbal, whereas 20% is verbal. So in a way, silence can also communicate just as much information as speaking does. It is used to express anger, sadness, excitement, and other emotion. It can also create tension in a conversation or release it..." He trailed off before letting out a sigh. "I'm rambling, aren't I?"

"You most definitely are," she confirmed. "Where did that suddenly come from?"

He looked away as a blush crept on his cheeks. "I have an incredibly active imagination. It—uh, it leads to a tendency for me to ramble as my thoughts are constantly flowing."

"And you just know all these random facts?"

"I have an eidetic memory."

"You don’t say?" Her sarcasm was followed by eying the framed achievements plastered on his wall before glancing back at his confused face. She sighed. "Look, I'm not better at this than you are. Let's just... I don't know, thank each other? Say goodbye? Shake our hands?"

His eyes lit up as another piece of information filled his brain. "You know, the number of pathogens shared during a handshake is staggering. It's actually safer to..." He trailed off again and suddenly gulped, mentally kicking himself when he realized the fact he was about share. "...kiss."

She couldn't help the smirk twitching on her lips. "Is that so?"

He absentmindedly nodded as his eyes glanced toward her mouth. She instinctively took a step closer, noticing the tension in his body as he quickly looked away. This man had just flirted with her using an adorable magic trick, had his head between her thighs minutes ago, and reached an earth-shattering orgasm... yet he had the audacity to act all flustered.

She should probably leave. That was what he wanted moments ago, wasn't it? The words came out of his mouth the moment he checked his phone before jumping out of bed at lightning speed to dress his naked body. He needed to be somewhere. He had this somewhat confidential work he had to do.

Yet somehow he was warm and her hands were surprisingly very cold. The heat radiating from his body called out to her and without registering what she was about to do, she softly placed the palm of her hands on his chest.

She was internally screaming when she inhaled a sharp breath, his scent suddenly engulfing her senses. He smelled slightly sweet with a hint of spice; a woody, earthy musk that was mixed with his natural scent of sweat and hormones. She peered up into his eyes, traveling down to his cheekbones before they rested on his lips.

A riot of emotion burst inside her as she saw his tongue flicking out and holy shit—she just stared at him, completely, utterly enraptured.

Her focus was on his hot breath against her mouth, his lips a mere inches away from hers. He was so close she could practically hear the fast pace of his heartbeat. She could feel him everywhere, his hard body flushed against hers, his head moving closer to her and—

Then his damn phone started to ring again and all her senses went to alert. She quickly took a step back.

Now that was her cue to leave.

And it was a pity because whether she liked it or not, a part of her wanted to stay. But that was not an option. He wanted her to leave and she needed to do just that. She needed this to be a one-time thing.

Because there was never going to be another time. The moment she walked out the front door, they were back to being strangers. She would go back to her life and he would go back to his, probably back to his seemingly not-so-normal job with the way he described his working hours. Or the lack of it, anyway.

His phone stopped its ring and he shifted his weight from one foot to another. He was back to being awkward and she was back to being rational. Although her heart was beating fast and she was as flustered as he was, she didn't him to know what, especially when it seemed like he was about to kick her out again for the second time.

She was too busy oscillating between stunned, mortified, and turned on. She refused to blush. She refused to appear even an ounce embarrassed.

His phone rang again and he looked flustered about what to do. She helped him decide by grabbing her bag that was conveniently hanging by the door. "I should probably go."

She knew she was slightly disappointed, but she'd be damned if he knew the truth. Her mother used to describe her as a spiteful person ever since she was young. But then again, was it so wrong to feel that way? She figured she was just evening the misery out. If something was making her unhappy she felt it was her right to bring at least equal measures of unhappiness.

It seemed relatively immature, but she didn't feel like caring especially how her night had turned out. She took a deep breath and worked out her pettiness.

"Thank you for tonight... Stephen."

He suddenly tensed. "It's Spencer."

She studied the frown on his face. God, she was evil. She would probably regret this childish behavior of hers, although that was something she could deal with later. The very least she could do now was to give him a proper goodbye before she turned her back towards him for good.

"Well, good night, Spencer."

She wasn't sure he even remembered her name or whether he was just as petty as she was. It was more likely the latter considering he had an eidetic memory. "Good night."

She gave him a final nod. He answered by throwing her an awkward wave, a tight-lipped smile, and an even deeper frown as she slipped into the cold air.

>> NEXT PART

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencerreid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x oc #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #fanfic #fanfic series #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x female reader #Right Kind of Wrong

[beforeimdeceased]

ENTANGLED IN YOU — FLOWER KNOWS BEST!

click me!

ellie williams x reader

a/n: this is definitely something! idk do you guys like dialogue heavy parts? i wanted it to feel very tense and rushed like it would in a scene. whatever this is just for fun!

tags: @onlinelesbo, @seraphicsentences

masterlist

“holy fuck! holy fuck.”

“shit.”

you both scream out in terror at the sight of each other. before you, the freckle faced woman is tied to a chair with rope. eyebrows furrowed as she regains consciousness and realizes where she is.

“who are you? are you looking for the cure?” you point the pan at her, using it to size her up.

“this has got to be some kind of sick fucking joke. cure? who are you?”

“i asked you first.” you reply snarkily, holding the pan closer to her face.

she struggles with the rope a bit, reaching for the switchblade that’s usually in her pocket. once she realizes it’s gone, she visibly becomes angry. “i’m a person who wants to get out of these fucking ropes.”

you back away a little bit, putting the pan down. her face softens as she studies yours. it’s clear that you’re just scared. more than she is. you look around for a pair of scissors.“i thought you were someone else.”

“someone else, huh? i’d hate to see what you do to them.” she slumps further in the chair, surrendering to the restraints.

“where are you coming from? i thought that everyone out there was infected.”

“how long have you been up here? infected have been dying out since the cure was created. there are settlements everywhere.”

“i knew it was a settlement! the one with the festival lights.”

“yes. alot of them have those.” she deadpans.

you revel in excitement and prepare to rapid fire questions, especially ones about the cure she mentioned, but you’re interrupted by the sound of doctor calling from below. you look at the mystery woman, and she looks at you. before she can scream for help you jump on her. the two of you fall to the ground with your hand on her mouth. she licks it, causing you to give her a disappointed look.

“if she finds you here she will kill you. you need to-“

“flower!”

“you need to shut up. i’ll hide you in my room. please, don’t make any noise.” you plea.

you look into her eyes, an iridescent verdant, light shining into them. they meet yours and she sees you. all your fear and confusion. she nods, and you lift her up, dragging her into your room.

“flower? flower!”

“coming!”

the world begins to move in slow motion. possibilities unraveling themselves in your mind. you pull the lever, and put on your best inconspicuous smile.

“did you check on the lights?” you rush.

“no hello? don’t be rude flower i-“

“hello. did you check the lights, doctor?”

she lets out a deep breath, looking over at you with compassion and sadness in her eyes. “i did. i understand you were excited but i was right. nothing out there but remains and infected. no viable life except for the land.”

you don’t know what to say. you’re not sure if she’s aware or if she’s lying to you. the former is somewhat comforting but you’re leaning towards the latter, following a feeling in your gut.

her watch goes off and she rushes to hug you. “i’m sorry sweetheart, i have to go again. i’ll be back in three days time. i promise, i’ll make this birthday extra special.” she places a kiss on your forehead and quickly rushes back down the tower.

you have to stand with yourself. soaking in the moment. questioning the person you’ve been with your entire life and putting their word against the stranger you just met. a series of scenarios running through your mind-

“where’s my switchblade?” the mysterious woman interrupts.

“fuck- sorry. i forgot you were here.”

you watch as she rubs her wrists. you always did tie terrible knots.

“you forgot i was here? you tied me up and told me your friend was going to kill me if i didn’t stay quiet.”

you shake your head. “we don’t have to go over the details. i’m sorry. i hid it somewhere.”

“well, can i have it back?”

the gears begin to turn in your mind. cooking up an idea so cartoonishly that you can swear a lightbulb formed over your head.

“i will give you back your knife-“

“switchblade.”

“whatever. i will give it back if you take me to see the lights.”

“i could just kill you.”

“and you’ll leave without your knife-“

“switch. blade.”

“because i’ve hidden it where you’ll never be able to find it.”

she rolls her eyes. “seriously?”

you inch closer to her. “please. i promise i’ll give it back to you, i never break a promise. i just need to see the outside world. i’ve never been allowed to leave this place.”

she stares at you for a moment. eyeing you up and down. “did you hit me over the head with a frying pan?”

you suck your teeth, crossing your arms and huffing. “listen. i will give you whatever you want and more if you show me the festival lights .”

“they’re normal lights?” she corrects.

you can feel your patience waning. “i should’ve kept you tied up and taped your mouth shut.”

“i should just kill you.”

“no!” you shake your head rapidly “please. what’s your name? doctor calls me flower. what’s your name?”

she hesitates. “ellie.”

“ellie. it’s nice to meet you ellie.” you smile but she’s not in the mood.

“i will give you back all your stuff, some paintings and sweaters i’ve made. even a portion of a cure doctor made using my blood if you-“

“your blood?”

“yes, i’m immune. i actually shouldn’t even be telling you that…”

everything else is a blur for ellie. thoughts race through her mind as she realizes the seriousness of what you’ve just confessed. and she thought she was the only one.

“okay. fine, whatever. i’ll take you to see the ‘lights’ and then when i bring you back you give me my stuff. and the cure.”

this is an offer you can’t refuse. a chance at uncovering the truth. an opportunity to explore the world in a way you never had before. and you must make it there and back in three days time.

“deal.”

#bunnie can speak? ☆ #ellie williams #・❥・ bun’s sweet ellie #ellie williams x reader #bun’s asks ꕤ #bun’s anons ˖°🦇ִ ࣪𖤐 #ellie williams headcanons #ellie williams imagine #princess au #tlou fanfic #tlou headcanons #ellie williams tlou #fanfic series #wlw imagine #wlw fantasy #wlw fanfic #ellie x reader fluff #ellie williams the last of us

[teenidlegirl]

꣑୧ ݁.﹒𝓜𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝓜𝐄 𝓗𝐀𝐋𝐅𝐖𝐀𝐘 .ᐟ

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 ┆ 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐬

ઇ ˚ ݂ ֹ ꒰ miguel o’hara 𝓍 fem!civilian!reader ꒱ ! ۟ ׅ ♡

˒ ♡ ៸៸𓂃  𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚  ˖  ׁ ⁩ .ᐟ  a beaten up spider-man stands on your balcony. you ushered him inside and tend to his wounds. a rainy night of apologies and… intimacy.

˒ ♡ ៸៸𓂃  𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕  ˖  ׁ ⁩ .ᐟ  angst, hurt/comfort, swearing, injuries, backstories, mentions of past character death, mentions of blood, feelings, heavy ass tension (unexplainable tension hehe)

꒰ previous chapter ꒱ ⋅ ꒰ masterlist ꒱ ⋅ ꒰ next chapter ꒱

the shocking plot twist, how marvelous and thrilling. murder mystery novels are simply the best. you were reading the last few sentences of the last chapter until the growling from daisy interrupts your reading mind. setting down the book on your lap, you look confusingly at the golden doodle. before asking her what’s wrong, you follow her line of vision which leads you to the balcony. your heart drops and eyes widen in shock to find a tall figure clad in red and dark blue staring at you, making you gasp. jumping off the couch, you rush to the balcony, glass door sliding in the process. a fresh breeze of rainy air greets you, gently blowing through your hair.

another gasp escapes your lips but in horror. in front of you stands a beaten up spider-man. bruises and scars covering his handsome face. strands of wet hair sticking onto his forehead.

your heart cracks at the sight.

what the hell happened? who did this to him?

miguel, on the other hand, is still mesmerized by you. you’re wearing that nightdress which makes him feel warm every time he sees you wearing it. the pain still lingers but he’s solely fixated on you.

without saying a word, you grab him by the wrist and usher him inside. still mesmerized by you, miguel follows you like a lost puppy. you sat him down on the couch, taking mental note of how big he looks compared to your couch, how small he makes it look.

“give me a sec, i’ll be right back.” audible panic in your tone as you rush to your bathroom for the first aid kit, leaving miguel alone on your couch.

he simply waits for you, remaining silent as his eyes follow your figure until you disappear into your room. miguel didn’t even notice daisy walking up to him and snuggling against his side, an attempt for comfort. his eyes lit up immediately as you walked back into the room with a first aid kit in your hands. he can see the concern on your pretty face.

sitting down beside him, you quickly open up the kit and took out all the supplies you need. anxiety starts kicking in, causing your hands to shake a little which didn’t go unnoticed by miguel. due to your anxiety, you start feeling hot so you swiftly take off your silk robe, leaving you in your nightdress. using a small wash cloth with applied water, you gingerly clean his facial wounds. neither of you speak as you tend to his wounds, silence filling the room other than the chaotic sounds of the storm outside. you try being very careful not to hurt miguel in the process, honestly he doesn’t care but he appreciates how caring you are. after cleaning them, you use antibacterial ointment and apply it on the delicate wounds. miguel’s eyes focused on you, completely in awe of your medical skills. he watches, adores, those furrowed brows and pouting lips of concern. how cute yet pretty you look worrying about him, the asshole who yelled at you and made you distance yourself from him. after making you feel like shit for two weeks, you still care for him.

you still care for his dumbass after what he did? you are something, something rare yet alluring. he has never met anyone alluring as you.

an alluring angel.

you can feel his eyes on you as you continue tending his wounds. it makes you tense a little, increasing your anxiety. his stare always felt intimidating but it isn’t like that this time. but you can’t ignore the rapid beating of your heart, which miguel can definitely hear due to his advanced abilities. it’s like a drum, a fast tempo of a song. he could listen to your heartbeat everyday but not when it’s beating so rapidly due to fear and anxiety. the guilt still lingers but grows stronger as he continues watching you, your delicate hands tending his wounds.

“i’m sorry…” it was so quiet, barely a whisper but it managed to break the prolonged silence. a silence that miguel had enough of.

you stop and look at him with a confused expression, brows furrowed. “what?…”

he finally looks away, looking down at his lap. “i’m sorry for… yelling at you. you didn’t deserve that...” audible guilt in his tone.

your heart aches immensely. part of you appreciates his apology but remembering why he yelled at you in the first place consumes your mind. “no… i’m the one who should be sorry. for invading your privacy was stupid of me, i shouldn’t have done that i—“

“no…” he softly cuts you off but you do so as well.

“no, miguel. what i did was wrong. i fucked up. that was stupid of me to do, betraying you like that.” you look up at him but he doesn’t meet your gaze, only staring in his lap. “i knew should’ve had stopped watching it and yet my fucking dumbass didn’t. so don’t excuse that… it was so fucking stupid of me.”

“i forgive you.”

you stare at him with wide eyes, visibly shocked.

“you’re not stupid… i’m the stupid one…” his head hangs low, afraid to meet your eyes. “i yelled at you and scared you away… it was wrong for me to do that. you’re not annoying or stupid, i never meant any of that…” miguel still avoids your gaze, the guilt consuming him entirely. his head still hangs low and shoulders slumped. after the apology, even though it feels like it isn’t enough, miguel has to tell you the truth. “that video… it’s one of my favorite memories of her…” he said softly but also sorrowfully.

you remain silent, attentive to what he has to say. miguel explains everything, the backstory of his mistake. the miguel of gabriella’s universe dying and him taking his place. recalling how much of an amazing kid she was, an exact replica of him. how much he loved his daughter wholeheartedly and unconditionally. then, he reveals the heartbreaking moment and it shatters your heart. now you understand everything, understand him.

“i’m sorry…” hints of sorrow in your tone. the immense temptation to wrap your arms around him, comfort him with an embrace consumes you. but you can’t, he’s heavily injured and his body doesn’t need anymore pressure. all you could do is place a gentle hand on his forearm, lightly touching him.

miguel’s gaze immediately lands on your hand, a bit surprised by the intimate gesture but doesn’t mind. he relishes the feeling of your soft delicate touch against his roughness, making him feel warm.

you notice his lingering gaze on your hand, making you quickly retrieve it. you don’t want to make him feel uncomfortable by the sudden gesture considering he isn’t a fan of physical touch after what he went through. but little did you know that miguel doesn’t mind, in fact, craves it. a little frown forms on his face when you moved your hand away. he knows you’re aware, mindful of his boundaries but he doesn’t mind it at this moment. not with you.

those thoughts leave his mind when a sharp pain on his back caused him to groan, hunching over with a clenched jaw and furrowed brows. you softly gasp at the sight of him in pain. “where does it hurt?” your eyes scan for the area of pain on his body.

he shakes his head. “it’s nothing, it’ll heal.” miguel said through gritted teeth, the pain consuming him.

“miguel, please… let me help you.” you pleaded, looking at him with a concern look.

he doesn’t need to look back at you to see those pouting lips and eyes of concern. just hearing your worried tone makes his heart warm. “my back.”

without wasting a second, you grab the little wash cloth and other items. as if he read your mind, miguel shifts to the side so his back is to you. by his command, his suit disintegrates but stops at his waistline. a soft gasp escapes your lips. a large bloody cut on his back, it ranges from one shoulder blade to the opposite hip. oh your heart aches at the sight, how painful it looks by a simple glance. instinctively, you slowly reach out with a hand but stop merely a few centimeters away from touching his skin. using your fingertips, you trace the cut just above it without touching. this poor man.

“i’m sorry…” your tender voice rings in his ears like a melody as you continue tracing your fingers. you feel terrible for him. is that really what it’s like? getting beaten the shit out of you on a daily basis? that doesn’t sound ‘super’ at all. supposedly that’s the sacrifice of being a hero, endure the pain no matter what. you wish miguel didn’t have to. he has suffered enough pain, he doesn’t need more.

snapping out thoughts, you quickly start tending to his large wound. another prolonged silence fills the room, the storm still ongoing. flashes of lightning from the distance lit up the entire apartment, followed by thunder which didn’t bother you both. you finished tending his wound with gauze. his suit covers up his back as you pack up the first aid kit.

“thank you…” his soft tone makes you stop in your tracks, looking back at him but he doesn’t look at you, his eyes still facing down at the floor.

a sad smile graces your lips. “of course.” as you turn around and pack up the first aid kit, his baritone voice stops you once again.

“after the mission, i was supposed to head back to HQ but…” miguel paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. “coming here was my first thought.”

“what?” you swiftly turn around in surprise to find his brown eyes already looking into yours, finally making eye contact of the night.

(cue “earned it” by the weeknd lmao).

you held each other’s gaze which feels like forever. those gorgeous brown irises stare into your own, as if they’re staring into your soul. words spread around that the eyes are the doorway to the soul. you simply get lost in his eyes, mesmerized by how pretty they are. you’ve never really took notice of that since he’s always wearing his mask. the longer you stare, the tension between you two grows immensely. sudden heat starts developing within you, becoming a bit flustered by the proximity. you catch his eyes glancing down, specifically at your lips before they quickly look back at you. that made your heart skip a beat, a warm sensation in your cheeks.

you are so pretty up close. of course he knew you were always attractive but goddamn — you look so damn desirable. that little nightdress of yours is like a cherry on top, making your appearance angelic. the warm lighting of your lamp does wonders on your features, specially your skin. you look so soft, you must feel so soft. god he has the biggest urge, desire to caress your arm and cheeks but he can’t. that would be too much, send the wrong message and screw up whatever you guys have. acquaintance? friends? yet — it feels more, more than that. miguel still doesn’t know why he feels like this, specifically towards you, and it scares him; terrifies him.

not only he has the desire to feel you but also taste you. his gaze keeps falling down to your lips, practically begging him to press his against them. and by some magnetic force, miguel finds himself slowly leaning towards your face. it’s like you caught him in your web. got him wrapped around your finger. those jewels you have for eyes attracting him closer, deeper in the cave. a pearl waiting to be found and picked from the clam, to be cherished.

seriously, what the hell is going on with him?

and to his surprise, you don’t pull back but instead stayed in place like you’re frozen. your heart pounds in your chest, your breathing growing heavy as you watch him lean closer towards you. why aren’t you pulling back? why are you just sitting there? why isn’t he stopping? what the actual hell is happening?

just as you’re merely inches away from each other, a beep noise comes from his watch. the both of you pull away from one another, pretending you weren’t just in each other’s faces. letting out a groan, miguel checks his gizmo to find a message jess. before he could even open the message, her tiny hologram suddenly appears in front of him through his gizmo.

“miguel, where’ve you been? you alright? you returned the doc ock variant back but you never returned to HQ.” the pregnant woman rests both hands on her hips, a concern look on her face.

miguel curses internally for the interruption, letting out a sigh. “i’m fine, jess. i’ll return in a few minutes. make sure things are still intact before my return.”

she nods at his command. before she disappears, her eyes shifts to the side to find you sitting next to miguel, making her eyebrows raise in surprise but she doesn’t say anything. she’ll definitely talk to miguel about this later. and with, the spider-woman vanishes, leaving you two in silence once again.

without looking back at you, miguel swiftly stands up but instantly regrets it when the pain of the large cut on his back makes him groan.

“wait — you have to be careful.” you stand up as well, hands reaching out but never touching him.

“it’s fine. i like said, it’ll heal. thank you.” he said softly, still not looking back at you as he walks towards the balcony door.

“at least use your watch to get back. the last thing you want is dealing with the storm.” you suggest, following him until you’re a few inches from him.

the tall brunette stops in front of the door. “you’re right.” tapping his gizmo, a colorful portal appears beside him. everything in your living room starts levitating, a low humming noise coming from the portal. just as he takes a step into the portal, your voice makes him stop halfway through.

“i forgive you.” you said, tenderness in your tone.

miguel turns around, a surprise expression illustrated on his face. the both of you hold each other’s gaze until he gives you a simple nod. the corner of his plump lips slightly twitching upward.

“don’t bust up your ass more than it already is.” a teasing smirk graces your lips.

that makes him scoff, rolling his eyes. you and your remarks; he secretly enjoys them. with one last glance, miguel turns back and steps through the portal. it closes and disappears after him, everything stops levitating and goes back to normal.

a soft sigh escapes your lips. what a night. an interesting night, to be honest. the tension still lingers in the air. at least he got medical attention and returned to HQ safely. you hope that large scar will show him mercy tonight, eventually heal.

walking back to the couch, you grab your robe and put it on. you then reach for daisy and carry her in your arms, walking to your bedroom.

“let’s go mimi.” you plant a gently kiss on her furry head as you enter your room.

ᡣ𐭩ㅤㅤ ݁. 𝓣𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓  ˖ ࣪ ༘  @loser-alert @keepitreal001 @iamperson12280 @nostalgicdaira @flordelalunas @oharasfilipinawife @cho-coquette @lavenderslemonade @palesatan @awkward-d3rs3-dr3amer @lilscast @beanieboy23 @dorck26 @kakabskbskdnd @4crew @deputy-videogamer @36namey @sin4tra @holographicang3l @migueloharasoulmate @darlingz99 @opalesquegirl @freehentai @rinverse @colorfulbluebirdpainter

© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡

#꒰ ˖ ࣪ . 𐙚 ⊹ ꒱ — 𝓜𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝓜𝐄 𝓗𝐀𝐋𝐅𝐖𝐀𝐘 .ᐟ #miguel o’hara x fem!reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfiction #across the spiderverse #fanfic series

[sapphire-writes]

Chapter 2: Curiosity Killed The Cat

main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

summary ~ You begin to adapt to the unusual events of Harrenhal and your mysterious host. An unexpected guest arrives.

warnings below the cut for your convenience

warnings ~ spooky ghostly stuff, spiders

note: and so begins our spooky adventure! I hope you enjoy it!

banner made by the fantastic @ewanmitchellcrumbs, ilysm ange!

You lay in bed, tossing and turning for several hours waiting for another scream to inevitably pierce through the now silent halls of Harrenhal house. 

Your eyes are too heavy, and you drift into a dreamless sleep. The belly full of tea must have helped soothe your nerves. Or perhaps it was more your time spent with the stoic head of the house. 

It is Maelor’s cry that wakes you the following morning, rather than his mother’s, through the baby monitor on your nightstand. You hear his small gurgles as he wakes, hungry for his morning bottle. Grabbing the monitor, you jump out of bed to head toward the nursery. 

As you walk down the hallway, the door opens and Jaehaera stands dressed in a pink dress, her hair done in two braids down the side of her head. 

“Beat you!” she says, grinning like the Cheshire cat. 

“How’d you get ready so quickly?” you comment, smile slightly faltering, “And how did you do your h--”

“Come on Miss Gevie, breakfast is my favorite meal of the day!” she sings, brushing past you and towards the hallway.

“Jaeha--- um--- I have to get Maelor!” you call, as she disappears around the corner her braids swinging behind her, “Okay….you head down!”

The day starts with a simple breakfast of oatmeal and eggs--Jaehaera is first to inform you that the only way to eat eggs is sunny side up. Aemond joins you but only for a cup of coffee. You notice he prefers it black. He doesn’t speak to you, listening intently to Jaehaera as she chatters away. Then Jaehaera begins her morning lessons when her tutor arrives promptly at nine. A kind older woman who awards you a tight smile when she introduces herself.

You hold Maelor against your hip as he babbles, walking through the main foyer and toward the library. Several workers have arrived, and you’ve seen Aemond directing them to different areas of the house throughout the morning. He’s present in the library, sitting at the oak desk when you enter.  

“Sleep well?” he asks, as he notices you enter the library. His eye flickers to Maelor in your arms. 

Rising from his seat, he closes a folder of papers before rounding the side of the desk. He walks closer to you, lifting his hand toward Maelor. The baby grabs Aemond’s forefinger with his pudgy fist.

“As well as I could. I was nervous during the night,” you admit, cheeks warming, “Just in case anything happened again.”

Aemond hums, still watching Maelor who holds his finger hostage. The baby brings it to his mouth, gnawing on it with his gums. 

“He’s teething,” Aemond comments, “Hopefully that won’t cause more late-night disturbances.”

“It’s alright. I know what I signed up for,” you assure him, as he pulls his hand away from Maelor, patting the baby on the head. 

“I’m afraid you’ll get more than you bargained for,” he says, eyes meeting yours, “This is…a lot.”

Your eyes search his face, trying to decipher the emotions he hides. Trying to find some cracks in the armor he wears during the day. You saw some last night, in the kitchen. The walls came down, if only for a moment.

“You need help,” you tell him, “You can’t manage this all on your own. The kids, Helaena, the house…I’m here to help.”

“The children,” he clarifies, “You’re here to help the children.”

“And you,” you offer, “I mean…if I can be of help with anything I’m happy to do so.”

Let me help you, you silently beg. Someone has to.

Aemond hums once more, “You’re very kind, Miss Y/L/N.”

“Just doing my job,” you assure him, but your face continues to warm at his compliment. 

You hold each other’s gaze for several moments before Aemond finally looks away. 

“I have some work to do,” he tells you, and you take it as a sign to leave him be. 

“Maelor is about ready for a nap,” you tell him, turning on your heel to go.

You shut the door behind you, neither speaking again.

“I’ll be gone for a few days,” Aemond tells you later in the week during one of your late-night chats. 

A cup of tea at midnight has become somewhat of a tradition for both of you. Helaena wakes nearly every night. It's always the same. Screaming for the son she lost. The green and purple cups are always waiting for you in the cabinet by the stove for your inevitable journey into the kitchen. 

“Just tying up some loose ends in King’s Landing,” he assures you, “Helaena should be alright. I’ve spoken with her doctor about increasing her nighttime medication.”

“And if she isn’t?” you ask, unable to hide your nervousness at the thought of him leaving.

Aemond watches you for a moment, humming softly to himself. It does little to soothe your nerves.

Things go smoother than expected while Aemond is away. You fall into a gentle routine with Jaehaera and Maelor. 

While Jaehaera is in her lessons you bring Maelor to Helaena. As Aemond had prepared you, Helaena refuses to hold him. She barely even looks at him. Her eyes instead are trained on your face, reading your microexpressions like the pages of a book. You and Helaena don’t talk much during these visits, though you attempt to engage her in conversation.

She always joins you for lunch, after you put Maelor down for his afternoon nap. Jaehaera comes fresh from High Valyrian and chats with her mother in their native tongue. 

Then it’s time for Jaehaera’s afternoon lessons and you get some time for yourself as Helaena returns to her room like a bird returning to its cage. 

Usually, you journey to the library, browsing through the collection of novels and trying not to snoop. Though you must admit, in an old house like this it's hard not to. 

Curiosity killed the cat.

Advice you should probably heed. You glance at a desk in the library strewn with papers. Aemond has a private office, he’d told you as much when you arrived. Still, your fingers skim the papers, and you pick up a manila folder examining its contents. 

Old documents, withered and yellowed nearly disintegrating from age. You can barely read the cursive ledger on the page. Squinting, you are able to make out the word Strong.

Satisfaction brought it back.

A loud thump causes you to drop the folder in surprise, sending pages scattering to the floor. 

“Shit,” you curse to yourself, dropping to your knees and picking up the pages, putting them back where they belong. 

You hurry over to the window, looking outside. A red Corvette is parked, its driver missing. The noise must have been the car door slamming shut. Dusting off your knees you hurry out of the library closing the door behind you. You quicken your pace down the hall and front steps as voices echo from the kitchen.

A man stands in front of the sink clad in a three-piece suit, holding his cell phone to his ear.

“Tell Corlys…dammit, I can’t hear you,” he snaps, holding his phone in front of him, “Hello?”

The call clearly drops and he sighs, “Bloody service.”

You clear your throat, alerting him of your presence. He turns slowly, still looking at his phone as though he couldn’t be bothered with you being there at all. A lock of silver hair falls into his eyes as he leans against the counter. A ring on his hand catches the light. Like you’d need to see the Targaryen sigil stamped on the back. You knew he was a relative the moment you saw him.

Targaryens don’t camouflage well. 

“Just a moment,” he comments, glancing up at you from his phone. He does a double-take, straightening up and slipping his phone into his back pocket, “Hello.”

“Sorry…I wasn’t expecting anyone,” you tell him, watching the corner of his mouth tick upwards in a smirk. 

Aemond does that too.

“And I wasn’t expecting a beautiful woman to greet me,” the stranger says, “So I suppose we’re both surprised.”

Warmth floods through you at his flirtatious tone. He’s older--much older-- and an air of confidence encircles him like a veil of smoke.

“Daemon,” he introduces, extending his hand for you to shake, “And you must be the au pair.” 

You place your hand in his, and he grasps it firmly. His palm is rough and warm; much larger than your own. Your lips part, you’re sure you haven’t taken a breath since he’s looked at you.

“Mhmm,” you answer, telling him your name.

Daemon releases your hand, shaking his head slightly as he chuckles to himself. The hair on the back of your neck stands on end.

“Something funny?” you ask, trying to keep the annoyance from your tone.

“No, nothing. I’ve found au pairs to be particularly helpful,” he comments, laughing under his breath as though he’d told a joke, “It just surprises me, is all.”

“Why is it surprising?”

“Aemond’s not usually the sort,” Daemon says, not clarifying any further. 

You understand what he is implying, your cheeks growing hotter.

“Aemond and I have a strictly professional relationship,” you tell him, causing him to chuckle more.

“I’m sure you do. Aemond does value his professional relationships, doesn’t he?” Daemon says with his smirk growing, “All this talk of my nephew and I’ve yet to see the man. Where is he?”

“He’s not here.”

Daemon’s eyebrows lift toward his hairline.

“Not here?”

“He’s away on business. Won’t be back for a few days.”

“And he left you, all alone?” Daemon asks, taking a step closer to you. He reaches up, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. You can’t suppress the shiver that rolls through you. 

“I can take care of myself,” you insist. Daemon’s scent floods your senses; teakwood, smoke, cinnamon. Intoxicating; it makes your head spin. 

“I’m sure you can. My nephew wouldn’t have hired you if he had any doubts,” Daemon murmurs, dropping his hand, “It’s not the harmless nanny he needs to worry about.”

“What do you mean?”

Daemon watches you like a cat toying with a mouse. His lip curls slightly, enjoying your discomfort. 

“Are you aware of the history of this house?” Daemon asks.

“Yes,” you tell him.

“Well, there you have it,” Daemon says, walking by you, “Have Aemond call me when he’s returned.”

You can hear his steps echoing down the hall, followed by the slamming of a car door. You stand in the kitchen for several moments, trying to catch your bearings when Jaehaera runs in.

“Who was that?” she asks, throwing her arms around your waist. 

“Just…nothing,” you assure her, stroking her hair, “How were your lessons?”

As Jaehaera tells you about her day, you focus on calming your racing heartbeat. You can’t help but linger on what Daemon had said.

What exactly was he worried about?

Helaena Targaryen loves arachnids. 

This becomes apparent when a spider scurries across the floral picnic blanket you’d laid out for Jaehaera. 

Maelor sits with his thumb in his mouth rocking back and forth as though a gentle breeze may knock him onto his back. Sitting up is quite new to him. The afternoon had been going quite well before the eight-legged monster descended on the tea party.  

“Miss Gevie! Miss Gevie!” Jaehaera screeches, launching herself off of the blanket and into your arms. Her girlish scream echoes through the backyard and she trembles against you. 

The arachnid freezes at her movements, eight legs tensed and ready. Maelor stares at his sister, violet eyes wide before they drop to the blanket. Helaena is seated in a chair a few feet away, the large sun hat she wears partially obscuring her face. 

“The fresh air does her good,” Aemond had told you before he left.

Helaena dives off of her chair, knees crashing into the grass beside the picnic blanket. You comfort Jaehaera as Helaena dips her torso lower against the blanket letting her hand dance above the spider. She presses her cheek into the blanket as the spider curiously lifts two legs up toward her dancing fingers. 

“Don’t be afraid,” she murmurs, touching the tips of her fingers to the spider's outstretched legs. She stays like that for a moment, a small smile appearing on her face. 

Maelor watches his mother, his thumb falling from his mouth. 

“Kill it!” Jaehaera demands as her mother scoops the creature into her hand. 

Helaena rolls onto her back, the rim of her hat getting crushed beneath her. Her knees are stained green. Maelor claps his pudgy hands together letting out a gleeful squawk. 

“Why?” Helaena asked, looking at the creature in her palm with the fondness she no longer gives her children, “For simply being here?”

“He’s ugly and I hate him,” Jaehaera insists, “Make her kill it, please.”

Helaena only hums, letting the spider climb down her arm. She sounds like Aemond when she does that. Warmth bleeds down your cheeks and onto your neck. You’d been missing him. The nights have been rather empty without your late-night chats.

Helaena turns on her side, ignoring her daughter’s pleas and releasing the spider into the grass. Once free, it takes off lost from sight almost instantly. 

“There,” Helaena says happily, “No need for violence, byka jorrāelagon.”

“Kepus would’ve killed it,” Jaehaera says, with her lower lip jutted outwards in a pout. 

There is a shift in the energy between mother and daughter.

“Why don’t you ask him then?” Helaena says, rolling onto her back once more and closing her eyes. 

“Kepus!” Jaehaera says, pushing away from your arms and running toward the house. You watch her run, following her gaze up the stone steps until you meet Aemond’s eyes. 

He’s back.

She throws herself into Aemond’s arms much like she did your own, and he reaches down, scooping her up in his arms and holding her against his waist. There’s a swooping feeling in your stomach as he approaches, the heat returning to your cheeks. 

“How are my girls?” Aemond asks as he moves closer. 

You move to the other side of the blanket, scooping Maelor in your arms as he begins to bang his fists on Helaena’s hat.

“We’re having a tea party,” Jaehara tells him, “Muña saved a spider. I said she should kill it.” 

Aemond chuckles softly at her pointed tone. 

“Your mother would never,” he says, setting her down on the blanket, “And you?”

You glance up at him, surprised he addressed you, “Me?”

Aemond nods, holding your gaze, “How are you?”

You can hear the blood rushing in your ears as he continues to stare, piercing gaze never leaving your face. 

My girls.

“I’m well,” you answer.

Aemond joins you as you sit back on the blanket, the spider no longer disturbing your peace. Jaehaera dotes on him, she loves her uncle dearly you can tell. You return Maelor to the bassinet as his eyelids begin to droop, rocking it side to side with your hand as he begins to drift off to sleep. 

Jaehaera places a saucer on Helaena’s stomach before balancing a teacup on top of it. Helaena barely raises a brow as Jaehaera wedges a lemon cake onto the plate as well. Though she doesn’t thank her daughter, she brings a hand to the corner of the cake, tearing off a piece and placing it in her mouth.

Aemond sits straight up, balancing a teacup on his knee as Jaehaera stands behind him, combing her fingers through his long, platinum hair and twisting small braids throughout. You hadn’t realized how long he kept it, it’s usually in a bun when you see him, but now silver waves cascade down his shoulders to the middle of his back.

“We should head inside,” Aemond mutters, “The clouds are gathering.”

“A storm is coming tomorrow,” Helaena murmurs.

“How’d you know?” you ask and Helaena’s mouth ticks upwards. All Targaryens seem to have the same smirk.

“She always knows,” Aemond says, smiling softly as his elder sister.

In sleep, someone speaks to you. Whispers in your ear, breath hot like flames licking against your flesh words you do not understand. 

A scream pierces through the night and you awake with a start. An ache begins behind your eyes and you press the heel of your palm against your forehead. You catch your bearing, sitting up and blinking as your eyes adjust to the darkness. Realization washes over you.

Helaena.

She’d been taking a second dose of her sleeping medication ever since Aemond spoke with her psychiatrist. Had she missed a dose this evening? You quickly rise from your bed, not bothering to grab your robe and flinging open your door. 

The hallway is dark, and no moonlight spilling through the windows tonight. You reach out, holding onto the wall as a guide as you move further down the hallway. 

A shuffling noise behind you makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. Your breath hitches and you turn around, staring into the dark behind you. You can’t see anything, just pitch black. You should’ve left a light on in your room, something to anchor you. Your hands begin to tingle as adrenaline speeds the beating of your heart. 

There’s nothing but darkness, you assure yourself, the dark can’t hurt you.

But you can’t shake the feeling that as you look down the hallway, someone….or something…is looking back.

You release a shaky breath, turning back around. Something moves toward you, this time you’re certain. And suddenly a hand covers your mouth blocking the scream that rises in your throat and slamming you into the wall. It's not too hard, just enough for your shoulder blades to make a solid thump against the wood. 

Aemond catches your fist in his opposite hand as you attempt to strike him, pushing your wrist back against the wall above your head. Your eyes widen when you realize it's him, cheeks blazing with rage and embarrassment, your body sagging with relief. 

His hand remains on your mouth, though for a moment you’re sure it’s your scream tearing through the halls. Your stomach drops at the agonized wail and you squeeze your eyes shut. Aemond’s hand slides down until your chin rests in the space between his thumb and forefinger. His fingers are pressed so tightly against your throat you’re sure he must be able to feel your fluttering pulse. 

“Hela--,” you begin to speak but are cut off by the return of his hand over your mouth. 

“Shhh,” Aemond insists, as your eyebrows crease with confusion.

You mumble incoherently against his palm, lips pressing against the calloused flesh. Aemond presses closer, his tall slender frame towering over you. You cease trying to talk, your thoughts muddled as the warmth of his body presses against you. Aemond dips his head so his lips rest against the shell of your ear. 

“That’s not Helaena.”

It would be intimate, sensual even, if it weren’t for the words he spoke in that low whisper. A feeling of dread washes over you like a bucket of ice water. 

“Shh,” he says once more, his lips grazing your ear, “Close your eyes. Stay very, very still.”

You don’t dare move, you don’t dare speak; you simply do as you’re told, squeezing your eyes shut. Trembling against him your fingers dig into his arm while the other remains trapped in his grasp over your head. Fear burns in your belly, so hot it's as though someone is stoking a fire right in front of you.

Aemond presses closer, your breasts press against the hard planes of his chest, nipples hardening at the stimulation through the thin material of your tank top. You’d be embarrassed if you weren’t so frightened. Your heart is beating like a rabbit’s foot, and you try to listen to the sound of Aemond’s breathing in your ear as some way of grounding yourself. 

A groan echoes from down the hall. 

Your grip on him tightens.

“It’s alright,” Aemond murmurs, his voice barely audible, “We’ll just let them pass.”

Your breathing stops.

Let them? Let what? Let who?

The heat intensifies around you, colors bursting behind your eyelids as though someone is shining a light on the pair of you, though you don’t dare open your eyes. You cling to Aemond’s command like a life raft despite your morbid curiosity. 

You don’t know how long you stay like that before the light begins to fade, the warmth leached from your skin as whatever passed you moved on. The hall is silent, your ears are ringing and all you can hear is each shaky inhalation of your breath. It’s not enough. It feels like all the air has been sucked from the hall like you’ll never breathe again.

“Y/N.”

What was that?

“Open your eyes.”

His voice. Aemond’s voice. The only thing that makes sense.

You open your eyes.

The hall is dark and you blink, adjusting. Aemond releases your hand and your arm falls, slightly sore and tingling with pins and needles from being held above your head for so long. He uncovers your mouth as well, taking a step back.

“Are you alright?” he asks, the concern evident in his voice. 

You don’t answer, frozen. Aemond cups both of your cheeks in his hands, thumbs smoothing away tears that fall. You hadn’t realized you’d been crying. Aemond’s brows knit together and you bring your hands to his wrists. 

“What was that?” you whisper, voice hoarse.

Aemond’s expression is pained. 

“There are things I haven’t told you about Harrenhal,” he says softly, releasing your face.

“What kind of things?”

“Unpleasant ones,” he continues.

You hold his gaze. If there was ever a chance to run from the manor screaming, this was it. Aemond watches you as though he expects you to run, his hands clenched into fists at his side. You know him already, know that if you chose to leave he wouldn’t follow you. He’s used to doing things on his own. It’s all he’s ever known.

It’s your choice.

Aemond lifts his eyes to meet yours as you reach for his hand. His fingers release automatically at your touch and you weave them through your own, holding tightly, anchoring yourself to him.

“Let’s get some tea then,” you tell him, “I want to know everything.”

note: hope you enjoyed this chapter! as always, comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated but never expected (though you will receive a forehead kiss from me if you do any of them).

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#aemond x reader #modern!aemond #modern!aemond x reader #aemond targaryen fic #halloween fic #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #modern au #halloween au #aemond targaryen #aemond series #hotd series #fanfic series #halloween fanfic #aemond fanfiction

[blue-sadie]

Fucking The Nerd

Masterlist

Lo'ak, Neteyam, Aonung,Rotxo

Preview

Prt 1 Fuck Me Boy - Summary: being paired with the fboy of the school what can go wrong

Prt 2 Fuck Him - Summary: getting pay back is the best feeling in the world especially when it's with his older brother

Prt 3 Fuck Them Both - Summary: neteyam needs a goodbye present before he goes off to college

Prt 4 Fuck Up - Summary: it's going great till someone appears at his front step

Prt 5 Fuck Him Out - Summary: taking up your brothers offer leads you to be in the arms of your childhood best friend.

Prt 6 Fuck Party - Summary: getting drunk and laid was on the to do list but now you have two pairs of hands on you.

Prt 7 Fuck Off - Summary: lo'ak finally realizes his mistakes and flies over to make right what he did wrong.

Ending (chose your own)

Acceptance - Summary: maybe hearing him out with solve the issue out

Reject - Summary: maybe starting somewhere new will solve the problem

Tag.List

@avatar4eva @lik0 @sweetirilly @a-nachronis-m @myh3artttt

#avatar #avatar pandora #avatar x reader #avatar way of water #avatar x reader smut #avatar smut #avatar fanfic series #fanfic series #avatar x reader fluff #avatar fluff #lo'ak #lo'ak x reader #neteyam #neteyam x reader #aonung #aonung x reader #rotxo #rotxo x reader

[bean-bean2000]

The Maid - Part 4

Pairing: Loki x reader (on going series)

Warnings: Angst, abuse, mental health (depression, mentions of suicidal thoughts), swearing, mentions of torture and rape.

Please read at your own risk. Your own media consumption is not my responsibility. Please read and review the warnings before proceeding.

Thank you and enjoy!

Series masterlist Main Masterlist

🧹🧹🧹

You don't see the king for a few days following your conversation in the kitchen, however, he specifically requested you be placed back as his personal maid exclusively and indefinitely.

You were surprised to have not seen the snake in a while, assuming he had taken some time off. However, once word got out that the king specifically requested you as his maid, the energy in the maid's quarters shifted negatively towards you.

The guards, albeit not the snake, continue to beat you every chance they got.

"You think you're special because the king requested you?" one asked as he hit your face.

"Is that why the snake is missing? What did you do to him? What did you say to the king?" he yells at you as he grabs the collar of your shirt and punches you once more. You can hear the bone of your eye socket lightly crack.

"We knew you're a witch. You cast a spell on him. That is the only reason he chose you. Admit it!" another yelled at you and kicked your side.

"Where is the snake?! Did you curse him you filthy witch?!"

"Maybe we have to burn her at the stake!" one shouts.

"Maybe, the king chose you because you're just a really good whore" followed by another slap.

"Shall we indulge in what the king is so intrigued with, hmmm?" they snicker as they approach you menacingly.

You're too weak to fight back as they tear off your night shirt.

Doubled over in pain, they notice the bandages around your torso.

"Oh, what is this? I heard the snake had you whipped. Who would want to fuck a whore with such ugly scars?" he spat at you.

"That's revolting. How could anybody ever want you. You're disgusting." another spat at you again.

Your eye is swollen, lip bleeding. They laugh as they walk away and leave you in agony, bleeding and barely conscious on the damp stone floor.

You cough as blood spills to the ground and you push yourself up to walk back to your cot.

Exhausted and in pain, you leave your bandages on, without airing out your wounds and cleaning them. You can feel that they ripped open again, blood spilling onto the bandages, soaking them once more.

You're too tired and broken to care.

You fall to your bed, laying on your stomach and pass out.

The next day you are scheduled to clean the kings office. You wake up and notice your cot is stained with blood, so you go to the common bathrooms to bathe. You turn around and notice your night shirt is also soaked in blood. You take it off but it sticks to your skin, and you observe your back. They bandages are soaking wet and the skin around looks yellow.

You're eye is purple and swollen, your lip is split so badly it hurts to speak.

Banner isn't here for another few days, you ran out of the balm, medicine and have no spare bandages. You decide its best to leave them as is, and simply wash the rest of your body with a cloth. You convince yourself that you can survive a few more days before his return.

You're slower than usual, your back pulsates in pain, unable to properly heal from the constant movement of your work and the never-ending abuse from the guards. You can feel yourself getting warmer and stickier everyday, sweating more than usual.

Walking to the kings wing proved to be extremely difficult in this state. Every movement cause pain to shoot through your body, crumpling you over and having you groan out loud. It takes you significantly longer to reach his office, for which you are scheduled to clean for the day.

Unfortunately, it is the one area of his quarters that requires the most stretching to get between shelves and corners. You sigh and grab your supplies.

Taking a deep breath you start to climb the ladder and stretch to clean the top shelf of the library. You hiss as you work, doing it as quickly as possible to minimize the pain.

Are the consequences of the king's disappointment in my subpar work better than sustaining the current pain I'm in?

You slowly walk down the ladder.

Taking deep breaths you focus on finishing the each task and distracting yourself from the pain. It has been long over 2 hours by now since you started cleaning. Clinging onto the library, you feel your head spinning, you're panting and sweating.

You place your head down against the shelf to steady yourself.

The door to the office opens with a loud click and you pause in fear. You hear shoes clicking on the tile, bracing yourself with fear that it is the snake or any other maid manager that has come to reprimand you for being so slow.

"P-Pardon my tardiness. I- I am aware of my sluggishness. I am unwell and f-finishing soon.'

You're shaking, you can't bring yourself to turn around and face who may be there. Suddenly, you feel yourself swaying, your vision gets blurry. You grab onto the shelf to steady yourself but your weakened state has you slipping. Somebody catches you and you scream out in pain from the pressure on your back. The last thing you hear before passing out is "What happened to you?".

🧹🧹🧹

You wake up, laying down on your stomach. You shiver at the cold and realize your back is exposed. Your heart starts beating erratically as you push yourself up in an attempt to flee.

"No! I'm sorry, please!" you scream as you try getting yourself up.

Your shoulders are pushed down roughly and your head is forced down to look at the ground. You being to sob and shake.

"No... please.... stop..." you whisper between sobs.

"Hold her down. This is going to hurt."

Your head snaps up at the familiar voice. "Banner?!"

He simply shushes you and tells the man holding you down to keep me still.

You hear some liquid sloshing out of a bottle and spilled onto a rag. The doctor approaches you and places it on your back, dabbing the flesh. You screech in pain.

"I know. I know. I'm sorry. It's severely infected. I have to clean it with alcohol. Be brave for me." Banner says to you as he continues cleaning your wounds.

You're screaming and crying out in pain until you can't anymore. Eyes sucked dry from tears and throat raw from screaming.

Suddenly you hear the door burst open.

"What is going on?!" he sees your wounds as you lay bare on the table.

"Norns, what happened?" he says in disbelief.

"I don't know. I went looking for her and found her in your study. When I approached she fainted and screamed when I caught her. That's when I noticed her back. Her entire attire was soaking in blood and sticking to her open wounds. I have to clean them, they're severely infected. She may die." Banner explains.

"Couldn't you have knocked her out first?!" he questions angrily.

You can't see who is speaking and you can't hear over the pulsing in your ears. You're mind is focused on the pain in your back that you don't notice him and Banner approach you. One more dab to your wounds and you pass out from the agony.

He curses and grabs the rag out of Banner's hands.

"Bring her to my chambers, carefully. Make sure nobody follows." He commands to the guards.

"I need to figure out what is happening within my castle's walls. This is not how I rule my palace and this is not how I will let the guards treat my staff." He turns on his heel and walks out.

Reaching his chambers, the guards gently place her on her stomach in his bed. He reaches his window and opens it, as his beloved pet flies to the ledge. The crow caws for greeting.

"Hello my pet. I have a job for you. Find out what is happening in the maid's quarters. I want names and details. You have never failed me, don't start now. Report to me by morning." The crow caws in response and flies away.

🧹🧹🧹

Part 5

Tag list:

@gruftiela

@elegantcheesecakecrown

@chxco-hyujin

@cheshire-salvatore-mikaelson

@i-am-amora-the-enchantress

@cakesandtom

@dorck26

@buckitostan

#fanfic #marvel #loki x reader #loki #loki laufeyson #loki fanfiction #thor odinson #thor #angst #bucky barnes #captain america #natasha romanoff #tony stark #the maid #fanfic series #the maid - Part 4