#god she’d dress me in pretty things and take me to expensive places | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

helpwhatsthis · 2 years

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just watched Catherine the Great today and that party scene.

god, can I get a Prince Paul x Fem!Reader where she rips that dress off him in their bedchambers and we’ll just full on smut.

my darling- p.p.

i got way too fucking carried away with this lmao. i hope you like it!

warnings: sub!paul, dom!reader, mommy kink, reference to his pecks as tits like once, slight blood, google translation of russian like twice, very very small mention of death, unprotected p in v (obvi), probably spelling errors, best friends to lovers, pinning as fuck (mutual) let me know if you think i need to add any!

was it really so wrong to be in love with your best friend? well for most people, no; but what about if he was a prince, a ragging asshole, and set to marry a princess in less than three months? yeah, that kinda seems like an issue.

the biggest problem lied within the fact that there wasn't a single royal bone in your whole body. the daughter of one of catherins' most trusted guards, orphaned after his death protecting her from an assassination. no one, not a single soul, had expected her to take in his unruly, boyish, and snarky daughter; let alone treat her as one of her own. all of those things people saw a large flaws in your character had only made her love you more. she felt she had a debt to pay to the man who'd saved her life, and she more than paid it off through you every day.

that's how you'd ended up here, in a black and red dressing suit, watching paul grumble about how his dress made him appear to have notable cleavage. it's endearing really, the way you watch him try to balance the extravagant wig on his head while simultaneously keep his corset pulled up.

"how the hell do you do this every day?" he growls, slapping away the hand of panin, who’s trying to fix his makeup.

“i try not to, unless it’s necessary.” you hum, trying to bite back your laughter at his expense. “i sit in a room full of men talking about war every day, so there’s not exactly a need for pretty dresses.” you move in front of him, helping him to pull his collar into place.

“can’t breathe in this damn thing.” he groans, now that the canvas squeezes his ribs.

“for what it’s worth, you look lovely, your excellency.” you giggle, smoothing down the skirt of the gown to avoid looking in his eyes. he rolls them, letting out an annoyed huff.

“you know i hate when you call me that.” he leans down to capture your gaze with his, causing your heart to pick up speed.

“technically, i’m here on business. so i have to.” you whisper, face merely an inch from his.

“y/n! darling, could you come here for a moment?” catherin shouts.

“don’t fall apart without me.” you laugh, finger gesturing up and down his outfit. you maneuver your way through the sea of guests, attempting to find where she’d called you from. she snags your wrist and pulls you close.

“what’s wrong?” you ask, voice hushed.

“oh, nothing!” she laughs, hand moving to her chest. “just couldn’t stand to watch you make schoolgirl eyes at one another anymore.” you look away bashfully, eyes inevitably landing on paul. “my offer still stands by the way, love. just say the word and i’ll call off his wedding.” she persuades, bumping your shoulder with her own.

“i can’t ask you to do that.” you whisper, trying to sound less defeated than the conversation always makes you feel. “i know my place.”

“all too well, apparently.” she chuckles, “all i’m saying-” she starts, noticing your discomfort, “there’s no woman i’d rather have betrothed to my son than you. you’d keep his mind in check... and give him good babies.” she laughs again at the gasp you let out. “he’d be happy.”

“there are plenty of women who can make him happy... and give him babies.” you huff, beginning to walk off. you suddenly don’t feel in the mood to stay at the party.

you press your fingers to your eyes, trying to concentrate on the book in your lap instead of the sleepiness threatening to overtake you. a rapid knock at your door makes you spring out of bed quickly, momentarily checking the decency of your sleep clothes in the mirror. you pull back the door, seeing paul standing on the other side. his wig and makeup are long gone, but he’s still adorning his dress.

“can’t get this stupid this off.” he whimpers embarrassedly. you giggle, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth and grabbing his hand. he lets you lead him back to his bedchambers, occasionally letting out little growls of annoyance when he trips over the end of the gown.

he finally stands in front of his mirror, pulling off the cover over his corset.

“how was the rest of the party?” you ask absentmindedly, beginning to undo the tight knot of strings holding the canvas around his back. the intricacy of the strings filling you with annoyance.

“nearly unbearable after you left.” he recounts, eyes flicking to watch your refection. he hears you let out a small grunt of agitation over the ribbons. “some girl wouldn’t stop flirting with me. clearly being engaged means nothing to he-” he’s cut off by the way you release a loud growl, gripping the top of the material and ripping. the sound of the tere pulls your eyes to his in the mirror.

“enough.” you snap, watching the way the canvas falls forward, exposing the expanse of his tone torso. you squint your eyes shut, trying to breath away the anger quickly filling your stomach. you open them again to see he’s still watching you, a small smirk on his face. “what?” you hiss.

“it’s adorable how much you fancy me.” he grins. your face falls, breath hitching. “my mother just told me all about it.” he turns to look at you, “not as if i needed her too; but the confirmation was nice.” he turns, taking your chin in his hand and angling your face up to his.

“i’m sorry.” you whisper sadly, he only smiles.

“s’really flattering.” he hums, thumb stroking your bottom lip. before you can protest or defend yourself, he slams his lips into yours. it takes you a moment to properly kiss him back, relishing in the taste of cherries and vodka. you finally sink in, throwing your arms around his bare shoulders, as well as your false morality out the window. when he pulls back, he’s got the most arrogant smile on his face. you decide you’re going to wipe it off.

“off. now.” you demand, tugging roughly at the skirt of his gown.

“oh yeah?” he smirks. you reach up, gripping his jaw tightly and glaring daggers at him.

“be a good boy and take the dress off.” you snap. his eyes flutter shut, a soft moan leaving his lips at your words. you press a short kiss to his cheek, then move back to watch him undress. he does so quickly, hands trembling as he pulls down the dress and stockings.

“there’s my obedient boy.” you coo, sitting on the end of his bed. he stands, gulping harshly and trying not to make it obvious how much your words are affecting him. the evidence is obvious though, standing at attention and twitching in his underwear. “c’mere, my dorogoy.” you whisper, arms extending to pull him between your legs.

he looks down at you tentively, through hooded eyes and long lashes. you hold searing eye contact with him, fingers hooking in his waistband. a small whine leaves his throat when your fingernails scrape the soft skin of his hips. you grin up at him sadistically, pulling the fabric down his legs. his cock snaps up, slapping the skin of his stomach. you admire it, pink, thick, and leaking an embarrassing amount at the slit.

“did i tell you how pretty your tits’ looked in that dress?” you ask, the endless smirk still on your lips. you reach up and begin to tweak one of his nipples between your thumb and forefinger.

“t-thank you.” he mumbles, lust overshadowing embarrassment. you stand, tummy pressing against his cock through your thin nightshirt.

“this looks painful, baby boy.” you muse, hand snaking between your bodies to grasp firmly at his shaft. he makes a high preening sound in the back of his throat at your touch. “what? nothing cocky to say now that i’m touching it?” he throws his head back, moaning as you start to stroke him. the needy sound makes your clit throb.

“please, y/n-” he begs. you reach up, cupping his jaw and guiding him to look at you.

“not my name, lover.” you hum against his lips.

“mommy-” he cries softly, tears filling his eyes as you jerk him harder. you nod, placing a kiss to his chin. you can feel your wetness running down your thighs, no doubt ruining your pants.

“lay on the bed, lyubovnik.” he follows your order without question, crawling beside you and positioning himself on the pillows. you practically purr, admiring him. his curls are delicately fallen over his forehead, a huge contrast to the way he pants erratically and wiggles his hips in discomfort from his throbbing cock. you take your time, undressing slowly.

“mommy, please!” he cries out when you free your breasts from the confides of your shirt.

“patience, needy boy.” you tut, crawling up his body and straddling his thighs. “i know it’s never been one of your virtues, but i need you to try for mommy.” he nods, tears starting to fall at his own need. you lean down, breasts pressing against his chest as you kiss him passionately. he moans into the kiss, hips thrusting up into the plush part of your belly.

“s-sorry.” he whispers into your mouth.

“s’alright, little one. i’ll let it pass.” you coo, pressing a sweet kiss to his nose. without warning, you drop your hip down. the girth of his cock stretches you painfully. he cries, high and needy as one hand moves to pinch your clit and the other rests on your him. tears of your own surface at the pain. you glance down, a small line of blood runs from where you’re connected, pooling at the base of his cock and mixing with your arousal.

“you okay?” he asks, comfortingly squeezing at your love handle.

“i’m fine, baby boy.” you hum, “only strings a bit, it’s been a while.” you promise, starting to rock your hips softly. his head falls back, worry completely forgotten.

he babbles as you continue your fast rhythm. the sounds of your wetness working up and down his girth lewd and sinful, only urging you on. he desperately attempts to work your clit, rolling it in shaky circles. you reach between you, guiding his hand to rest on your abdomen.

“can feel you in my stomach, angel.” you purr, biting softly at his collarbone.

“mommy, i’m gonna-” he sobs, tears of pleasure running down the sides of his face.

“i know, darling. cum for me.” you urge, but he rapidly shakes his head.

“don’t wanna before you do.” he whimpers. you shake your head, biting his bottom lip.

“it’s fine, little one. let go for mommy.” you whisper against his mouth. he gasps, hands moving to hold you down on him as he fills you up. you hide your head in his neck, panting into the skin and the warmth fills your insides. you sit like that for a while, holding him and tracing your fingers over the skin of his pecks.

a thought hits you, making you stand from the bed abruptly and pull your clothes on.

“where in gods’ name are you going?” he asks, sitting up and starting to panic.

“need to talk to catherin.” you state shortly, causing his face to contort in confusion. “you are not getting married to that fucking princess.” you growl, pulling your shirt over your head. his eyes widen, mouth falling open in realization. you lean forward, pressing a rushed kiss onto his lips. “i’ll be right back, i love you.” you hum, hurrying out of the room.

he grins, throwing himself back onto the pillows and laughing lightly.

“i love you too, y/n.” he whispers into the thick air.

#prince paul x reader #prince paul #catherin the great #joseph quinn #prince paul smut #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn x reader #josephquinn #joe quinn

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emotionalcadaver · 7 months

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Part 5: A Sleepless Dream

Fandom: Inception

Pairing: Robert Fischer x OC

Summary: Alice struggles with her feelings at the gala, and Robert finally comes to a realization.

Word Count: 2,554

Notes: No warnings this time.

Masterlists: Main • Series • Fic

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Chapter 8: The Gala

To say that Alice felt out of place would have been an understatement.

Fancy occasions had never particularly been her idea of a good time. She’d much rather eat at a local bar or diner than at an expensive restaurant, or wear comfortable shoes over designer heels. Pulling self consciously at the neckline of her blue dress, she made an admirable attempt to turn herself invisible. It would be better than the judgmental, condescending looks she’d been getting all night. She swore that rich people had some sort of radar; a way of telling if someone wasn’t really one of them with just a single glance. No matter how hard you tried to blend in.

The building that the gala was being held in was gorgeous in every sense of the word. A huge dance floor, a bar, gleaming gold detailing in all the chairs, the parts of the floor not covered in white marble showcasing a shock of crimson red carpet. She was pretty sure that the chandelier glittering high above them was made out of actual diamonds. “You doing alright?” Robert asked.

“My feet hurt,” she shot a spiteful look down at the black heels.

He gave her a genuinely apologetic look, sweeping a hand through his hair and readjusting his tie.

“You look fine,” she assured. It was true. The suit was a dark charcoal pinstripe, only a shade or two away from being black, and hugged him in a way that showed off the leanness of his body. The tie around his neck was a soft baby blue, a match to the striking color of his eyes. His silver cufflinks gleamed every time he moved his hands.

“God, I hate these things,” Robert mumbled, eyes scanning over the crowd. Alice rubbed a sympathetic hand along his shoulder. A group of gorgeous women that she could only assume were supermodels ambled over to them, all bright, white smiles and soft giggles as they greeted Robert. He smiled back in a way that was more of a grimacing bearing of teeth, mumbling quietly in response to their questions. When one of them reached out to brush her fingers over his arm, Alice could see the way he tensed, smile cracking for a moment. None of the women so much as glanced at her. She wondered if her previous wishes of being turned invisible had actually been answered.

The only way Robert could have more obviously wanted to be left alone would have been if he was wearing a t-shirt that said “stay the fuck away from me.” It was odd. She knew he had the capability to be exceptionally charming when he wanted to be. Brow furrowing, she wracked her brain to try to figure out what had put him into such a funk that past few days. Ever since he’d come home from the dinner with Todd and his friends.

She’d been so busy nursing her wounded pride and cracked heart following that night that it admittedly took her a while to notice just how off Robert was behaving. Quiet and sullen, so tense in his shoulders she was worried he might snap.

Robert moved a little closer to her, linking her arm with his. The supermodels seemed to finally take the hint, moving off with a few nasty looks shot her way.

“They seemed nice.”

Robert groaned, rubbing at the bridge of his nose like he was nursing a headache. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

Still keeping their arms looped together, Robert began to pull her along with him, heading towards the bar. Yes. Drinks. Drinks would be good.

“So. Other than standing around looking fancy and drinking, what exactly is it that you do at these things?” she asked. The last time she’d accompanied him to a gala, they were young, and spent the entire time hovering near the kitchens so they would get first dibs on all the food.

“Dance. Charm donors. Flirt,” there was a surprising bite of bitterness around the last word. He dropped her arm once they’d gotten to the bar, motioning for the bartender. Alice watched as he downed his glass, brows pinching.

Was it her? Was he mad at her for coming with him? Maybe he preferred to attend these things stag. No doubt it would be easier to flirt and pick up women without her clinging to his arm.

“Robert. There you are.”

Something twitched in Robert’s face at the sound of Maurice’s voice. For a moment, the closeted resentment and disdain he carried towards her father was on blatant display before it was swiftly tucked away.

Maurice was approaching them with a beautiful woman in tow. Long, golden blonde curls pinned half up half down, a baby pink, floor length dress swishing around her legs, a lace forest green shawl wrapped around her shoulders. She was curvy and tall, striking features softened somewhat by the roundness of her cheeks. Maurice gestured to her.

“This is Gemma Hadley. Ms. Hadley, this is my son, Robert.”

Alice swallowed hard as she watched Robert smile and shake Gemma’s hand.

“I’ve heard such wonderful things about you,” she said, a strong Australian accent lilting her voice.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” Maurice said, shooting a look at Robert before vanishing back into the crowd.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Robert said to Gemma. The blonde’s eyes darted questioningly between him and Alice. “This is my assistant, Alice Emerson.”

“Oh,” Gemma smiled and shook Alice’s hand firmly. “So nice to meet you.”

“You too.”

Gemma pulled her shawl from her shoulders as she slipped into a chair at the bar, revealing how her gown clung to the ample curves of her chest. Alice brushed a hand down her own floor length dress, suddenly feeling very stupid and childish. Like a kid playing dress up. Biting her lip, she watched as Robert slipped into the chair next to Gemma, leaning towards her. With quiet bewilderment, she watched as a smile slipped into place across his lips, blue eyes wide and fluttering as he turned on the charm he had been so well known for back in college. As she watched them begin to converse in quiet, obviously flirtatious voices, Alice was struck by a sudden feeling of loneliness and abandonment, painfully aware of the awkward knowledge that she’d suddenly become a third wheel.

If she hadn’t already felt invisible before, she certainly did now. It was like her only purpose was to keep him company until someone better came along.

Resting her hand on his back, she mumbled an excuse of needing to go to the bathroom, not waiting to see if he even acknowledged her before she began walking away.

The bathroom was just as over the top luxurious as the rest of the venue. With white marble counters and gold, gleaming sinks. Resting her hands on the counter, Alice stared at herself in the mirror.

Her dark brown hair was pinned into a low side bun, the silver pins of glittering stars and moons pinching against her scalp. The dress was a deep blue, and sleeveless, with a halter neckline and silver accents arranged over the bodice.

In her mind, she picked apart every tiny aspect of her appearance. Her breasts were too small, the freckles across her cheeks too prominent, her legs too short. She didn’t belong here, amongst this group of wealthy, beautiful people.

Rubbing a hand across her forehead, she closed her eyes. She wasn’t being fair. Robert could do whatever he wanted. With whoever he wanted. He wasn’t hers, nor did he have any interest in her in that way. He’d made that abundantly clear. And Gemma was exactly his type, tall and busty. Blonde, from a background of wealth and status. They would probably be perfect for each other.

Bottom lip trembling, she fumbled with the little black clutch she’d brought with her and smoothed down her hair.

Deciding that it was good enough, she headed back out, eyes scanning past the dance floor to the bar, where Robert and Gemma were still sitting. Gemma was leaning back, a hand held up to her lips as she laughed, Robert watching her with a smile. When her hand dropped from her mouth, it came to rest on one of his arms, looking into his eyes adoringly. Robert leaned closer to her, lips moving as he said something that made Gemma blush.

No. She wasn’t going to stay to see this. To be ignored and made to feel like a burden or third wheel. Robert could do what he wanted; she wasn’t going to stand in the way of that. But that didn’t mean that she needed to stick around to watch.

Tucking her clutch under her arm, she headed towards the doors to where the valet was sitting, reading a book behind the little desk he occupied. It was early enough into the evening that no one else had left yet.

“Ms. Emerson,” he looked up, closing his book and setting it aside.

“Could you have them bring the car around? I’d like to go home.”

“Of course,” he stood, then hesitated. “Is Mr. Fischer joining you?”

“No,” she didn’t look up as she fumbled with her clutch, passing him a handful of bills for a tip as he mumbled soft thanks. The car pulled around a few moments later.

Heart aching, she rested her clutch in her lap, fist pressed to her lips as she looked out the window, watching as the venue faded away into the distance.

∗ ∗ ∗

Never before had he so badly wanted for an evening to end. Gemma was nice enough, not nearly as bad as some of the others his father had pushed on him over the years, but he just couldn’t bring himself to be interested. The booze was, frankly, not very good, and the piano in the corner near the dancefloor needed to be tuned.

And where the hell was Alice?

She disappeared off to the bathroom at least fifteen minutes ago and he hadn’t seen her since. For a while he was worried that she might be sick, or maybe got cornered into conversation with one of the creepy old men that were many of their donors. He’d been subtly scanning the crowd over and over, searching for her pretty blue dress or dark hair.

“Have you seen Alice?” he blurted out suddenly, interrupting…whatever it was Gemma had been saying to him. She blinked.

“Who?”

“My assistant.”

“Oh. I think she left.”

“What!?”

“I think I saw her heading for the doors maybe…ten minutes ago,” she twirled the straw in her drink. Some red cocktail that came garnished with a sprig of mint. It felt like his heart had dropped into his stomach, eyes darting anxiously towards the doors, taking every ounce of control he had not to go charging after her. Gemma was speaking again, but he couldn’t focus on what she was saying, too preoccupied with the worry and dread building in his gut.

“Robert? Are you even listening to me?” she asked.

“I’m sorry,” he said, not taking his eyes off the doors. “I’m sorry, I have to go.”

“What? Why?”

“I just…I’m sorry, here,” he dropped a handful of bills from his inner pocket onto the counter. “Buy yourself a couple of drinks, or…something,” he hesitated as he pulled away from her and slid out of his seat. “Look, I hope you and your father decide to work with us in the future,” and then, because he really did feel very bad about just ditching her like that, “I-I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression. But I really have to go,” he punctuated the end of his nonsensical rambling by turning on his heel and all but running out of the room, leaving Gemma gaping after him in bewildered silence.

Waiting impatiently at the valet station for a car to be brought around for him, memories of that horrible day all those years ago, when he’d returned home to find Alice gone, flashed behind his eyes. All traces of her removed from their shared apartment, like she had never even existed at all. One minute, she was there, and then in the next she was gone, taking all his happiness and his heart with her.

She wouldn’t leave like that again; at least he didn’t think she would. But still the anxiousness persisted. It wasn’t just worry over the possibility of her leaving. What if she was sick, or hurt?

He should have cared about what his actions could mean for the company, but he couldn’t bring himself to. None of it really mattered, in the end. At least not to him. Fischer Morrow would be fine without the Hadleys. But Robert doubted he could go through losing Alice again, or live with himself if he went back in there and sat at the bar and flirted and schmoozed while his best friend was possibly back at home being sick or upset. The mental image of her sitting alone on the couch in the living room, crying because of something some jackass said to her, was enough to twist at his heart, checking anxiously at his watch.

He couldn’t understand why she would just run off like that. Everything had seemed fine. Until…

Until he’d started talking to Gemma.

Okay. Something, that meant something. Interesting.

He’d never really allowed himself to hope that Alice could ever feel the same way as he did. It had always seemed far, far too unlikely. Borderline ridiculous. Why would she waste herself on some pathetic fuckup like him?

There could be a thousand explanations for why she’d responded badly to him flirting with Gemma. It didn’t necessarily mean anything.

Except…

In a near violent rush, as if a floodgate had suddenly been opened, he was bombarded by a slew of memories. Flirting with girls in front of Alice at bars, talking to her about dates, bidding a one night stand goodbye in the morning while Alice watched them silently from the kitchen. And every time, there was the same look in her eyes. Something that he could never place. That he now realized was sadness.

And then there was the way she was always curling in close to him, cuddling up to his chest on the couch while watching movies, reaching for his hand as they walked, brushing her side with his. The way her eyes sometimes shined when she looked at him.

Maybe…maybe…

That could be considered more carefully later. Allowing any sort of hope to bloom in his chest was dangerous, and more likely than not going to just leave him heartbroken. But try as he might, he couldn’t quite shove the sudden feeling away into the recesses of his mind like he used to.

His breathing quickened to the point that he had to rest a hand against one of the pillars lining the walkway to the doors, stomach twisting. He felt like he was going to be sick; whether it was from excitement or horror over his past behavior, he couldn’t tell.

Shaking his head, he began to walk towards the car rolling to a stop in front of him. Everything else could wait.

He just needed to make sure that Alice was okay.

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

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Masterlists: Main • Series • Fic

#don't know what the fuck happened with the other post but for the life of me i could not get it to link back to the masterlist #so i'm just reposting it and hoping that fixes the problem #robert fischer #robert fischer x oc #alice emerson #inception #alice emerson x robert fischer #a sleepless dream

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maximoffslilwitchintraining · 2 years

Text

Nervous?

Part 3

Read: Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5

A/N: Finally finished it. Thank you all for being so nice, it makes me so happy that you have enjoyed, this fic so far. I hope you all like this too. Sorry that it’s shorter than I intended, but you’re getting part 3 and 4 at the same time so, I think that makes up for it. Not proof read! It’s 4am and I have just given up. I will fix that later.

Summary: Your date with Nat and Wanda is everything you could have dreamed of.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: smut, strap on(receiving), oral(r giving)

“So, where do you want to start котенок?” She smiled expectantly. When Wanda had insisted she’d take you shopping for your date with them, you had expected a mall. That was simply not the way it worked with Natasha and Wanda. You eyed the fancy boutique filled with luxury items, feeling extremely out of place, inhaling the expensive perfume that probably cost more than you dared dream of. As if to make it even clearer that you didn’t belong there, you just stood staring wide eyed, not sure what to do.

“Only the best for our kitten.” Wanda winked at you. She giggled at your expression, dragging you along with her. Her hand was warm and comforting, and you squeezed it tight to ensure she wouldn’t let go. She did the same, assuring you she had no intention of letting go. Although now relaxed, you still somewhat look like a child being ushered through the store, eyes bouncing from one wall to another in amazement.

“Baby, look how about this!” Wanda interrupted your thoughts. Her face held a proud expression as she guided your eyes with her pointing finger to the item.

“Oh, wow that is gorgeous! But it must be terribly expensive, Wanda I can’t.” You shook your head. You would love to wear that dress tonight and by the expression on Wanda's face, you desperately wanted to know what it’d look like when she saw it on you.

“Nonsense, you’ll try it on. Now if you don’t like it we find something else. But Natasha was specific, no item is too expensive for our kitten.” She motioned it to an employee, who came to help the two of you. The woman grabbed each item wanda pointed at and soon enough she was showing you the way to the changing rooms. She handed you the dress and you held it like a newborn baby, terrified you may cause damage just by looking at it the wrong way. Wanda giggled at your scared face, and sent the woman away. It seemed they knew each other or like Wanda at least had been there often enough to be known.

“You need help with that декта?” She smirked, then moved into the changing room, closing the door behind her.

“I suppose you want to start with that?” She giggled pointing at the dress you barely dareed touch, leaving it simply hanging of your outstretched arms. She took it from you, letting you relax.

“Undress, sweet thing.” Your eyes blinked at her words. You hadn’t really talked about everything that went down last night at the dinner table. But it didn’t feel like it was needed either. You all knew where you stood.

“Well you can’t really put it on over your jeans?” Wanda laughed at your dumb expression.

“Right, of course, yeah.” You mumble, feeling embarrassed. Once your shirt and jeans came of though, her laugh subsided. Now she was the one looking embarrassed as she handed over the dress, smiling but quite obviously struggling with eye contact.

“Something the matter, mommy?” You spoke innocently, hiding a grin. Wanda's eyes went wide at the nickname. The boost in confidence drained from your body just as quickly as it had shown up and you ended up apologizing for your words. Wanda promptly stopped you, pulling you in for a kiss. Once out of breath she pulled away.

“Now show mommy the pretty dress.” She spoke in low voice. And as if nothing had happened, once again she was back in control and your face shifted in shades of red.

The dress was perfect, Wanda’s face when she saw it on you was even more perfect. Her gaze dreamy as it went over your body.

“God, Natasha will be so jealous I got to see all this before her.”

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

Danm, they were beautiful. This was no news, but they were all dressed up and it left you feeling shy all of a sudden.

“You alright kitten?” Nat teased, as you tried your best to not gawk at the pair.

“Mhm.” Was all you said, blushing.

“Nervous?” She raised an eyebrow. “ You really don’t need to be. You have been here before, baby.” She pulled you closer, hands on your waist, leading you to the living room, where the candles were lit.

“I hope you don’t mind home cooked food instead of a restaurant?” Wanda said taking your hand.

“Not at all. Wanda it looks delicious! I assume Natasha didn’t cook?” You and Wanda’s both laughed.

“Be careful котенок, you don’t want to get on my bad side.” She slapped your ass with a smirk. You stil couldn’t quite help but giggle and neither could Wanda, making Natasha groan at the two of you. She pulled out your chair just after, she helped you in.

“ You see, we wanted to be as close to the bedroom as possible once dinner is done.” She whispered in your ear, leaning over. You attempted to swallow your sudden nerves, mouth dry all of a sudden. Wanda started giggling as you reached for the water in desperation. Both women’s eyes on you were overwhelming, as they quite enjoyed what they saw and were in no way about to hide it.

“Don’t worry baby, tonight we’ll take care of you.” Wanda winked letting her leg run up yours, making your arousal grow as you imagine what they had planned for you.

⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

Once dinner was done, they wasted no time getting you into their bedroom. Natasha literally picking you up and carrying you upstairs. Turning you on even more at the woman's surprising strength. You let your hands wander over her toned arms and shoulders.

“As much as you and Wanda did a great job picking this dress, I want it off now.” Natashas voice was demanding and low. You quickly undressed, worried she may rip it if you weren’t quick enough.

“Good girl.” Wanda praised walking behind you, slowly staring to place kisses on your back.

“Now, Tell me kitten. When we left you in such a desperate state last night, you must have been in such pain, you poor thing. But under no circumstances did you attempt to ease that on your own, did you?” Natashas voice were warning and your lack of answer, told her that her suspicions were correct. She clicked her tounge, stepping closer with an intimidating look on her face.

“You dumb little thing. Didn’t I tell you to wait?” Your mind spun, wondering if she ever said those words really. You could probably have figure it out, had your mind not been clouded.

“Answer, kitten!” Wanda spoke harshly, digging her nails into your shoulders. You nodded quickly, scrunching your face at the pain it caused. Natasha sighed, clearly unhappy with your lack of words, but willing to let it slide.

“Now, what do you suppose we do, when our sweet little thing can’t follow rules?” Natasha faked a ponder.

“Punishment?” You spoke a little too eagerly.

“Oh, baby did you hear that. Our котенок, is quite the little slut. So eager for her punishment.” Natasha turned you around and bent you over at the edge of their bed. Wanda crawled on top of it, spreading her legs in front of you.

“Make mommy feel good won’t you baby?” Natasha took a tight grip on your hair pushing you on to Wanda. You simply hum, easing your tongue into her slick folds, making her gasp slightly, her hand taking over where Natasha let go. Guiding your face closer to her cunt, you move your tongue over her clit.

“I hope you didn't think that was the punishment kitten. I just simply couldn’t let Wanda go much longer without feeling you. You see, sweet thing, I can be very nice when you behave.” A strike lands on your ass and you jump at the pain .

“Stay focused baby.” Wanda cooed, pushing you back. She let her hand meet your ass three more times before removing your panties. Wanda was bucking her hips, grabbing your hair, moaning every time your tongue hit just the right spot. You felt your legs shake slightly when Natasha’s strap came to rest against your core. You grabbed on to Wanda’s thighs to keep your focus on her and steady yourself.

“Looks like you did enjoy your punishment котенок. You’re all wet for us, sweet thing.” Natasha said softly, letting her hands wander over your sore bottom. She slowly started to push in her fake cock, moving it in and out painfully slow. You try to push against her, to gain some momentum, but she stops you. Another smack landing on your ass.

“I decide how much you get and when, don’t test me baby.” She warned. “Now until you make mommy come in that pretty little mouth of yours, this is all you get. That’s what happens when you’re not patient, kitten” she spoke the last part with a condescending tone, one that would it not just cause you more torture, you would have rolled your eyes at. You focused on Wanda, pushing your tounge as far into her core as you could, letting her fuck your face. You could feel her cunt tighten around your tounge, making you clamp down on Nat’s strap and her to start picking up pace. You eagerly buried your face between her legs lapping at her the best you could. Her grip on your hair was painfully tight as she fucked herself, eventually coming on your tongue and screaming your name. You kept lapping at her, letting her come down and slowly ease her grip on you, as you yourself started to get close. Natasha is now pushing deep into you at an unforgiving pace. Her hands steady on your hips, you knew those strong arms were going to be of good use. As your pussy grew tighter around Nat, your mouth found it’s way back to Wanda's clit, sucking harshly.

“Oh! too sensitive baby girl.” Wanda gasped, moving away your face.

“But mommy, I need you.” You whimpered between heavy breathing and moaning. She looked down at you with understanding soft eyes. Guiding your face, she helped you latch on to one of her nipples. Much content with her solution, you started licking and sucking on her nipple, holding on to her waist.

“You ready to come kitten?” Natasha asked, slamming into you. You let go of wandas breast long enough to answer.

“Y-es, oh please mommy let me come.. please!!” You whimpered loudly, struggling to breath at the feeling of Natashas strap filling you up over and over again, making you clamp down hard on her.

“Come for us kitten.” Wanda spoke rubbing your cheeks softly as your mouth was once again around her breast. Letting out muffled moans against your mommy, as you came around Natashas cock.

“Oh what a beautiful mess you made all over my cock, sweet thing.” Nat whispered, placing soft kisses on your back, keeping the strap inside you for just a little longer before pulling out. You released Wanda's nipple and leaned into the soft hands cupping your face. She placed small kisses on your forehead and nose, before reaching your swollen lips.

“You did so good for us kitten.” She praised you, taking you into a warm embrace.

“So good.” Nat echoed crawling into bed with you. Helping you get under the covers. You gave out a yawn, snuggling into Wanda’s chest, tugging at Nat’s arms to make her get closer and she does. She wraps her arms around you, your back against her front, as she places a kiss on the top of your head, your eyes fluttering close.

“Sweet dreams, декта.” She smiled, giving wanda a kiss too, before they drifted of to sleep aswell.

*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

Waking up the next morning, you felt wanda and Natashas arms still safely secured around your body. Your face would be sporting a blissful grin all day after such a morning. Waking up with them, sharing soft kisses and warm cuddles. Watching wanda make breakfast, was something both you and Nat seemed to agree that you could do forever. Wearing wandas clothes and Natashas bruises, you walked on clouds all the way home, not a worry in the world.

⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ:

Part 4

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trentaafcsblog · 3 years

Text

Midnight Memories

Mason Mount

This isn’t like him at all. Trapped in a crowd of drunk and disorderly people who are staggering around to the beat of the music, sloshing their drinks all over one another when the pink and purple strobe lights descend upon their bodies and start flashing in a series of random patterns, enhancing their alcohol-induced illusions and perceptions of the world as they flail their limbs around and claim they’re flying or walking on clouds - a stage that Mason isn’t willing to reach tonight, or any night, for that matter.

A sea of girls in overly tight dresses and heels that barely support them crowding around him and slurring things in his ear. Running their fingers up his bare arms and begging for another drink as he awkwardly shakes his head and tries to break away from them, only for another person to grip onto him from the other side and smear their cheap sticky lipgloss all over his neck in an attempt to add ‘I kissed a footballer’ to their CV. “Just kiss meee” they whine, pouting in his face and trying to pull him closer before giving up and making a move on the next available man, one who’s willing to explore their mouths and buy them endless rounds of multicoloured shots for the rest of the night without gently shoving them away or not-so-subtly avoiding their alcohol-coated lips.

This isn’t your type of place either, although you’re five cocktails deep into the stack of pornstars that your friends insisted on ordering. A stain down the front of your white bodycon dress thanks to an escapee half a passion fruit that decided to leave your triangular glass in order to explore the vomit-tainted floor. Your lips all patchy now that your lipgloss has migrated to decorate the rim of your empty glasses with sparkly nude smudges, although you’re slightly relieved because it means that your hair won’t get coated in it anymore, and it minimises the evidence if you end up kissing someone too, not that you came here to do that, or risk putting yourself in the same category as the girls that are now trying to climb into the VIP section with a bunch of semi-famous people, all because they want a drunk kissing video to plaster across their social media, hoping that it takes them to the front of the papers in the morning for being such-and-such’s ‘mystery girl’.

You’re looking up at the VIP area cordoned off by security guards in black puffer jackets and walkie talkies in their hands, feeling an overwhelming sense of empathy for all of the people that have to tolerate that kind of behaviour. Your eyes start scanning across the section of the club that is far too expensive for just a few hours’ stay, wondering if you can recognise any famous faces, but it’s just the ‘I lasted one day in the Villa and still managed to secure a Pretty Little Thing brand deal’ Love Islanders and the friend of the friend of the friend of a semi-professional footballer that made one twelve minute appearance for Arsenal back in 2010 and thinks he’s God’s gift. All of them either eating each other’s faces or taking boomerangs of them cheers-ing their margaritas before having to retake the same video five times because they’ve lost several lime slices in the process and it’s ruining the aesthetic. Your focus sharpening on someone with their back to you and at least ten girls around them, taking it in turns to have a drunken selfie or begging him to buy them a bottle of champagne with one of those fancy sparkler things on the top that gets brought out by women wearing elaborate carnival-inspired feather headbands and very revealing dresses. And you can’t help but feel sorry for him because you can tell just from the back of his head that he’s incredibly uncomfortable, even more so when he gets offered a blowjob from a girl who’s now threatening to get her boobs out in exchange for a whole bottle of Don Julio, in a bucket of ice, just how she likes it.

He’s turning around to face the rest of the club just as you go to look away at the menu that’s being wafted under your nose by one of your friends, and you can’t help but do a double take at his familiarity. Squinting your eyes so that you can get a better look at his features. ‘Nice drink’ you think when your eyes catch the glass of Diet Coke in his hand, quite obviously not accompanied by a swig of vodka going by his incredibly tense frame and stiff dance moves. Well, it’s not really dancing, it’s more of a ‘I’ll just copy what my friends are doing so I don’t look awkward’ move, aka a two-step shuffle from one side to the other. You can’t help but giggle as you watch him from across the room, your friends completely giving up on trying to entice you with a selection of expensive cocktails as they leave you to stare at some random man on the other side of the club, their need for a second stack of bright coloured drinks clearly overriding the want to look out for their friend.

You’re watching him for a bit longer. Becoming completely fixated on this familiar stranger who you can’t help but sit and giggle at. Part of you wanting to cringe with him at how hellish this night has become, but at the same time, it’s kind of funny watching someone who should be so used to having a large following blush and laugh awkwardly if anyone happens to recognise him. Okay, maybe it’s slightly uncomfortable to sit and watch a swarm of girls attack him with their overdrawn lips whilst he does everything in his will to not shove them into next week, especially when his friends start laughing and taking little videos of the awkward encounters, clearly ready to embarrass him at a later date. But regardless, it’s nice to know that fame hasn’t gone completely to his head, unlike an ex-reality TV star who’s screaming ‘do you know who I am?’ at one of the bouncers who won’t let her hang out with her ‘friends’ in the VIP section.

But you’re quickly forced out of your trance when you feel somebody shoving something into your hand. Looking down at your palm and clocking the ten pound note before your eyes are lifting to the hand that it’s been given from. “Go and get us those cocktails” your friend slurs before slumping back in her seat and falling to one side slightly, her pink lipstick slathered all over her chin from where she’d tried to apply it without a mirror when a man wearing an extremely tight fitting top happened to settle down in the booth next to you, obviously hoping that he’d look her way. “Hurry up, I’m thirstyyy” your other friend whines, making you sigh and mutter something under your breath in reference to them being lazy and ruining your evening, as you slide out of the row of pink arched seats and stand up. Having to grip onto the back of the chairs when your legs go all warm and fuzzy from the one too many cocktails you’d already consumed, pulling your dress down to a more appropriate length before heading off in the direction of the bar. Trying to catch a glimpse of Mason as you swerve in and out of the sea of dancing bodies, but you just end up feeling as though you’re going to fall to the floor when the strobe lights start spinning on the ceiling before dispersing their blue and green beams around the room at the most ridiculous speed. Everybody around you swaying from side to side and elbowing you in the ribs as you try your best to dodge them, kicking yourself for wearing the most stupid pair of heels as your toes crush into each other more and more with each step, cursing when you skid in a puddle of what looks like - or at least you hope is - vodka, and you have to grab onto a stranger’s arm to steady yourself, much to their dismay until they catch a glimpse of your apologetic face and suddenly want to make out with you.

You’re breathing a sigh of relief when you finally make it to the bar, setting your bag down on the counter and ordering what you think your friends want, although you probably should have double-checked with them first considering you were too busy having a nosy at someone across the club to pay any sort of interest to their alcohol preferences. “What?” you’re shouting at the barman when he tells you the total of the drinks, hoping that you’ve misheard him but ten pounds clearly isn’t going to cover the cost of sixteen cosmopolitans with added shots of vodka. Panicking when he repeats the price and turns his back to get started on making them, your hands now frantically searching your bag in the hope that you manage to find the extra money before he starts yelling at you for ordering things without being able to pay. “Fuck” you’re hissing as you turn the contents of your bag out onto the countertop, checking the inside of your phone case and a pressed powder incase they happen to house the remaining money. Your heartbeat pounding louder in your ears the closer it gets to having to admit that you’ve actually only got a quarter of what you need.

“I’ll get it” someone’s saying, clearly sensing the tension between you and the barman as you shrug your shoulders in response to him sticking his hand out for the money. “I’m not a charity” you snap back, your slightly tipsy state giving you a rush of confidence as you continue to search your bag in the hope that the money has magically appeared just so that you can laugh it off and shut everyone up. “I know, but it’s on me” they’re saying again, leaning forward and tapping their card on the machine before you can even consider fighting back a second time. “Thank-” you’re starting before realising who it is that’s just saved you from an incredibly awkward situation. Surely not. Surely Mason Mount hasn’t just bought you, of all people, a load of cocktails for your mates.

“It’s okay” he laughs nervously, making your heart melt because clearly he’s just as awkward around you as he is everybody else in this club. “Prices have gone up, haven’t they?” he smiles as he takes a step closer to you, propping himself up on the countertop with his elbows before asking the barman for a lemonade, with ice, just so it isn’t too fizzy. “Yeah, I don’t normally come out so I underestimated it a bit” you laugh shyly before looking off in the other direction, simultaneously cursing and thanking your friends for leading you to believe that you could get sixteen cocktails for a tenner, because without their stupidity, you wouldn’t be talking to the boy that you’ve been watching all night. “Prefer to stay at home then?” he asks as you turn back and nod your head. “Me too” he’s saying, “I’m normally in bed by now” he giggles as his gaze rises to the clock above the bar, the time reading 00.04am. The slight dark glow under his eyes letting you know that he’s normally tucked up by 9pm in his pyjamas. “What are you doing here then?” you ask. Stupid question really. He’s here for the same reason that you, and probably half of the people here, are - he’s been dragged along and forced to pretend that he’s a right party animal whilst he sips his non-alcoholic drinks and fights off every woman in sight. “My mates made me tag along, I’m kind of glad they did now though” he’s telling you, the second part of his sentence almost becoming inaudible as his voice quietens just as the volume of the music rises with the chorus of ‘My Yé Is Different’, ironic since you’ve just spotted the twenty grand watch decorating his wrist whilst you’re stood there in a passion fruit stained dress. But you’re still managing to hear it, and you can’t work out whether that’s in reference to you, or the fact that he’s been able to drink fizzy drinks when he’d normally only have water. Except you’re not stupid.

“Bet you say that to everyone” you tease, gaining his attention again as he laughs nervously and shakes his head. “Only the special ones” he replies, which is true, but now you can’t help but wonder if his drinks have been accompanied by a few shots of something or another because those words and the sincerity of his tone aren’t a reflection of the awkward man you spotted ten minutes ago, let alone the fact that he clearly considers you to be one of these ‘special ones.’ “Yeah, yeah” you’re saying back, flicking your hair over your shoulder before taking a sip of one of the cocktails that are sat before you, still waiting to be taken back to your friends. “Got quite a few drinks for somebody that doesn’t go out much, no wonder you needed me to pay” he winks as you roll your eyes and blush at the thought of somebody having to give you a helping hand with the price. “This is my last one, I’m off in a minute cose I can’t keep up with everyone else” you’re shouting over the music, watching him throw his head back and laugh because he thought he was the only one in that position. “I’ll join you” he’s replying, thanking the barman for his drink before taking a sip through the straw. “Not the sort of thing you say to a girl after only knowing her two minutes, Mason” you’re teasing, studying his face as his eyes blow wide slightly and he shakes his head, quickly swallowing his lemonade before stuttering on his words. Unsure whether he’s panicking about you jokingly misinterpreting his comment, or if he’s uncomfortable over the fact that yet another girl knows his name, but either way, he’s laughing awkwardly when you tell him that you’re only messing.

“I wouldn’t mind though” you say smugly, causing another nervous giggle to escape his lips. Your alcohol-induced confidence only adding to the butterflies that are already batting their wings against his rib cage, something about your slight feistiness and sarcastic sense of humour attracting him to you, even more so when he takes in how beautiful you still look despite being on the verge of your alcohol limit.

“Where are you going afterwards?” he’s asking once the lights have swivelled around in the opposite direction and the blush on his cheeks isn’t so evident. “I’ll just go to the chippy down the road and then get a taxi home” you’re telling him, looking down into the fluorescent pink concoction in your glass and feeling your stomach churn at how rough it’s going to make you feel in the morning. “Mind if I join you?” he’s asking as you look across at him in disbelief, watching as he downs the last few sips of his drink and stands the glass back on the countertop. Is this a dream or something? “Sorry, that was a bit forward...again” he panics, feeling a surge of anxiety run through his body incase he’s greeted with newspaper headlines in the morning about him unintentionally trying to latch onto girls that aren’t interested in him, even if half of the club know his name.

“No, it’s fine, of course you can” you laugh, your cocktail glass almost slipping out of your grip thanks to the layer of sweat that is now developing across your palm. “I’ll just take these over to the girls and then I’ll be ready” you smile, looping the strap of your bag over your shoulder and grabbing as many glasses as you can, which really isn’t a wise move since you’ve partially lost all sense of coordination thanks to Mason’s ability to wipe any drop of confidence out of your body and replace it with nervous butterflies.

“I’m off” you’re announcing once you’ve made your third trip back to the booth your friends are sitting in, their drunken reactions to your words making you giggle as you reach over them to grab your jacket. “Where are you goinggg?” one of them whines, gripping onto your leg and pouting before another one is drawn to the verge of tears at your confession. “I’m just tired” you nod, blowing them all a kiss and ensuring that they text you when you’re home as you turn around and head off towards the exit, not wanting to keep Mase waiting any longer. Praying that he’s stood just around the corner outside as he’d promised as you stagger across the dance floor and dodge a sea of flailing limbs and slurred shouts of ‘can I get your number?’. A sigh of relief forcing itself out of your nostrils when the ‘exit’ sign hanging above one of the fire doors becomes within touching distance and the bouncer in charge anticipates your departure, pushing down the grey bar across the middle of the door and letting it swing open, enabling you to step out into the night.

“There you are” you smile as you approach the back of his figure, his head kept down and a cap adding a nice accessory to his outfit, although it’s definitely worn as some form of disguise. “Hi” he’s smiling nervously when he realises that it’s you, a swarm of butterflies invading his tummy again when you link your arm through his and gently rest your head on the top of his shoulder - a move that you’re aware might push you into the same category as the other girls that have been after him all night, but your crippled feet and wobbly legs are grateful for the extra stability, even if your motivation to make that move takes you both by surprise.

“Let me get this” you’re saying once you’ve made your way into the kebab shop, your arm dropping away from his as you gesture towards the table up against the front window. “You sure?” he’s asking, dipping his hand into his back pocket ready to pull his wallet out just incase, but you’re nodding and confirming that you’re more than capable of paying four-pound-fifty for a kebab and a couple of drinks - just as well really after the events earlier this evening. Giving him a small smile as he turns and heads off towards the table in the corner, his celebrity instincts kicking when he takes the seat right in front of the glass, conveniently covered by a sticker of the menu, and some extra protection offered from the back of his body.

You’re setting the gold foam kebab box down on your table for two, along with two plastic forks, a bottle of water and a Fruit Shoot because you noticed him eyeing them up in the fridge when you came in. And it turned out to be one of the hardest decisions of your life trying to work out what flavour he wanted. Maybe it was the alcohol that was messing with your brain, making you think that he was more of an citrus guy than a berry one. Or maybe it was the fact that you were buying a child’s drink for a fully grown adult, a famous one too, who probably hasn’t had one for ten years, which only added to the pressure. Or maybe it was because you liked him and you didn’t want to ruin your chances by getting him the wrong flavour. But after flicking your gaze between the stack of bright coloured bottles and his body cowering away in the corner, you settled for the blackcurrant one, just because he looks like the type of person to play it safe - well, he is the type of person to play it safe, going by his Diet Coke and lemonade choices tonight.

“This for me?” he’s asking as he picks the purple bottle up, smiling when you nod to confirm his answer. “How did you know this was my favourite flavour?” he’s questioning, a smug look appearing on your face as you shrug your shoulders and reply with ‘only the ‘special ones’ know that kind of information’. A giggle escaping his mouth at your words before he’s pulling the plastic lid off the drink and taking a sip, humming at the familiarity despite not having one since his seventh birthday party. “Still as good as they used to be” he’s saying, something about the additional happiness that’s now surging through his body after a drop of blackcurrant juice making your tummy fill with butterflies because he really is just the cutest, biggest child.

You’re both sitting in a comfortable silence as you pick at your shared kebab, trying to eat from separate ends so that you don’t cross any boundaries or run the risk trying to stab your forks into the same piece of chicken. But the fuzzy filter that the alcohol has brought to your eyes and the slight delay that it’s caused between your thoughts and your actions means that you find yourself diving into the last piece of pitta bread just at the same time that Mason does. And from his side it’s a poor judgement call. The sugar from his Fruit Shoot clearly giving him an extra boost of energy and causing his arm to extend outwards towards the polystyrene box, clouding his mum’s reminder that ‘you need be a gentleman and let girls eat whatever’s left, even if you want it’. And truth be told, he doesn’t really want it, which is why the pang of anxiety as soon as his plastic fork clashes with yours is stronger than ever. His cheeks turning a violent shade of crimson as he quickly pulls his fork back, leaving just four little holes from where the prongs had been as you panic and do the same.

“Sorry, no you have it” he says quietly, nudging the box towards you in the hope that you get the hint. “No, you eat it” you smile, pushing it back towards him. The two of you just repeating the same movement as the box moves two centimetres one way, and then two centimetres back the other. “Mason, just eat it!” you whine as he sits opposite you and shakes his head. “I said you could have it” he smiles nervously, subtly wiping the sweat off his palms and onto the material of his jeans when he realises that you’re staring straight into his eyes. “Why are you getting all nervous for? Just eat ittt” you groan, a giggle escaping his lips because there’s no way you’re backing down on this one. “Fine” he huffs, stabbing his fork back into the little holes that it made earlier before slowly moving it towards his mouth. Your eyebrows raising more and more as you watch it edge closer to his lips. And then he’s doing the unthinkable and quickly changing the direction of his fork so that it starts heading towards your mouth instead. Involuntarily parting your lips whilst you wait for what’s just happened to register, and the next thing you know, you’re swallowing the piece of pitta bread.

“What a fuss about nothing” he hums as you roll your eyes at him. “You’re quite romantic, aren’t you?” you tease as his eyebrows furrow in the middle, waiting for you to clarify your comment. “Is that all of the alcohol that’s made you so desperate to share the last piece of food with me?” you question, another layer of blush painting itself across the tops of his cheeks. “Oh, sorry, you didn’t have anything to drink, did you? Lightweight” you smirk, making him roll his eyes this time. “I’m just being a gent, plus you’ve been drinking so you need something to sober you up, maybe it’ll stop you being so rude next time I offer to buy you a drink” he says smugly, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in the chair. A wave of composure washing over him now that he’s left you slightly speechless and he’s matched your sense of humour. “Next time? You’ll be lucky” you sass as he scoffs at you. “You’re the one that needs to buy me a drink to apologise for snapping at me, so there will be a next time to call it quits, thank you” he smiles, his sudden burst of confidence talking to you allowing his real personality to shine through, and you can’t help but start to get lost in it. “Was I really that rude?” you ask, secretly dying as you think back to your ‘I’m not a charity’ comment at the bar. “No, I’m just messing” he laughs, eliciting the same response from you as you erase that memory out of your brain. “You’re just confident, I like it” he’s saying, the last part of his comment getting lost when a group of people come staggering through the door, drowning out his words for the second time tonight, but you’re ninety-nine percent certain you managed to catch it. And now you’re the nervous one.

You’re quickly moving the conversation on to something else when you feel your chest starting to heat up with anxious prickles. Mason going all funny inside because it’s clear that he has the same effect on you as you do him, but he’s trying to push that to the back of his mind as he listens to you rambling on about your favourite breed of dogs, and how you had a fish finger sandwich for tea before you came out tonight, and how you actually know quite a lot about football but you’re reluctant to bring it up because you don’t want to embarrass him, although your drunken state causes you to let a few football facts slip out, all of them relating to Mase but you’re too caught up in your fuzzy alcoholic state to even recognise. But he does, obviously. Finding it sweet how you know exactly how many appearances he’s made for Chelsea, and what minute he came on in his debut against Manchester United, and what colour boots he wore against last season’s match against Newcastle. Just sitting back and letting you talk in between the occasional swig of water, hardly being able to get a word in edgeways because the alcohol is well and truly running through your veins now, making you come out with all kinds of mismatched comments and slurs. But he doesn’t mind, which takes him by surprise a bit, especially as he’s secretly scared of drunk people and he can count the amount of times he’s felt a bit tipsy on one hand, but there’s something different about you. Maybe it’s your sense of humour and how you’ve got him in stitches, or how your drunken state leads you to be more concerned about the welfare of a stray cat outside than it does anything else on the planet, or maybe it’s how deep beneath that strong outer shell you’re protecting yourself with that he knows you’ve got a heart of gold, an inside of ‘pure mush’ as his mum would say.

“What time is it?” you slur after knocking back your last swig of water. “Nearly one o’clock” Mason’s replying, glancing at his overly-expensive watch as you sit there and wonder how he actually knows what hour of the day it is when all of the numbers have been replaced by diamonds. “Better head off” you mumble, staring blankly into the empty kebab box and trying to process what move you need to make next in order to get yourself back home in one piece. “I’ll order you a cab if you want, or I’ll walk you back, I don’t know how far away you live” he’s saying, forcing you out of your trace as you look up at his tired, bloodshot eyes. Knowing full well that as soon as you’re gone he’ll be running home to bed with a glass of water to tone down the bubbles in his tummy from his fizzy drinks, paranoid incase they give him a fizzy version of a hangover. “I live about half an hour away and I can tell you’re ready for bed so I’ll go with the cab” you smile, making him giggle nervously at the fact that his tiredness has been uncovered, although it’s not difficult to pick up on the fact that the only other time he stays up this late is on New Years Eve, and even then he normally sets an alarm for 11.57pm so that he can wake up from his nap in time.

You’re letting him help you put all of your belongings back into your handbag after you insisted on showing him your favourite lipgloss midway through your earlier conversation. Linking your arm through his and stepping out into the coldness of the night, a breeze nipping across your legs and causing you to let out a little squeal as you start pulling your dress down to try and hide your goosebumps. “Here” Mason’s saying, taking his jacket off and draping it over your shoulders. “Mase” you’re replying. Mase - he likes that, and he likes how naturally it’s left your mouth too. Trying to give it back to him but he’s adamant that you keep it. “Gives me another reason to see you in order to get it back” he winks, making you roll your eyes as you stand snuggled into his side on the edge of the pavement.

“Did you want my number?” he’s asking, already taking his phone out of his pocket and holding it out in your direction before you even have chance to respond. “You’ve not really given me an option have you?” you laugh, making him giggle as he shuffles awkwardly from side to side, waiting for your digits to appear on the screen. “Only because I need to give your jacket back, there’s no other reason for this” you tell him, smiling as he nods his head but you both know that’s a little white lie. “There you go” you’re saying, passing his phone back to him as his eyes study the new contact in his hand. A new number written beneath Y/N.

‘Shit’ he’s thinking. He didn’t even ask for your name before this. Awkward.

“Pretty name” he smiles, trying to play it off cool, but you’re not drunk enough to not notice his mistake. “So pretty that you didn’t even know that’s what I was called until now” you reply, making him giggle and let out an awkward ‘oops’. “I’ll let you off this once” you’re saying as you look up at him stood beneath the lamppost that’s towering above the two of you. A golden glow adding a filter to his face and making him look even more gorgeous than he did when he was sipping his lemonade in the club and shoving lettuce and chicken into his mouth. And you’re desperate to just kiss him, especially since he’s got a bit of dried Fruit Shoot in the corner of his mouth and you know his lips will taste all sweet like they do in the movies. But considering he’s only just learnt your name you don’t think it’s the right time, and there’s also a bunch of Tottenham fans making their way up the street, not wanting to have to make him endure any teasing, especially when he’s already stayed up late in a part of town he wouldn’t usually be seen dead in to spend time with you.

“Thanks for tonight” you whisper as you briefly rest your head on his shoulder, pulling it away when the taxi he’s ordered for you appears at the side of the curb. “My pleasure, thank you” he’s saying back, removing his protective hand from the small of your back and stepping forward to open the back door of the car for you. “Told you that you were a gent” you tease as he mumbles ‘shut up’ and pretends to shove you into the back seat with a giggle. “See you soon for that jacket, yeah?” he winks as you reply with ‘yeah yeah, whatever’, making him let out a little chuckle as he closes the door on you. Giving you an awkward little wave as you head off down the street, standing and waiting for your car to turn the corner before heading home himself. Leaving just a message of ‘thank you again, can’t wait to get my jacket back cose it’s freezing without it ;) x’ that’s just appeared on your screen connecting the two of you. And even if you have been slightly tipsy tonight and now can’t remember half of the things you spoke about, there genuinely doesn’t seem like a better person to sit in a kebab shop with in the early hours of the morning after stumbling across him by pure chance a club that neither of you particularly wanted to spend the night at. Thanking your lucky stars for allowing your paths to cross because you already know this is the start of something special. Very special.

#mason mount #mason mount blurb #mason mount imagine #football blurb #football imagine #dominic calvert lewin #jadon sancho #ruben loftus cheek #marcus rashford #ben chilwell #dele #jesse lingard #tyrone mings #james maddison #trent alexander arnold

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boldlyvoid · 3 years

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can u do a blurb about reader wanting a baby and asking her co-worker Spencer to be the donor because he's smart and nice and she wants a cute baby?

you said blurb and i read 2K word fic apparently lmao

Late nights behind a desk were the worst. Y/N hated reading over case file, after case file, of horrific things as she tried to choose where they went next.

The only plus side was that she wasn’t alone, Spencer was at his desk just beside her. Like he always was. They had an interesting friendship, to say the least.

Ever since Y/N joined the BAU, Spencer and her were glued at the hip. They had all the same interests, liked the same music and movies, and they spat out information the same way, they were like each other’s dorky other half— but it was just a friendship.

They had a tradition to watch at least one movie together after a case, to just chill for a bit together. Always randomly picking one of their apartments to go to, spending the night together until one of them eventually wandered off to bed. Leaving the other on the couch.

They weren’t aware of their feelings for each other for a while. Both of them being so used to being alone, and never having anyone be interested in them before. It was hard to understand if the feelings they had were pure friendship, or if it could ever be more. If the sex would fuck everything up and take away that perfect happy place they found in each other, or would it make the bond stronger?

She noticed the crush before Spencer showed any signs of liking her back. She woke up every morning thinking of him, that's when she came to the conclusion that it was more than just a friendship. She wanted him in her life forever, she wanted to kiss his perfect lips and hug his soft body, wake up beside his messy hair and just love him for the rest of eternity.

She sighed as she picked up another file, not excited to learn about the horrible acts taking place in what people called, “the best country in the world.” She’d disagree any day of the week.

This one was a file about some missing kids apparently being spotted in a van altogether in Georgia, it looked interesting enough to be the next case. She hated reading all the info, seeing every kid's happy face in the file knowing that’s not how they looked now.

“Good god,” she groaned as she flipped through the case.

“What’s wrong?” Spencer asked over the divider.

“Nothing,” she shrugged, “just a bad case.”

She handed it to him over the desk, hearing him flip through all the sheets as he read a million words a minute. “We should show this to Emily first thing,” Spencer agreed, pushing himself over to her desk in his wheely chair.

“I will,” she smiled softly, taking the file back from him and placing it on her desk.

Spencer stood then, making his way into her space and rubbing his hand over her back slightly. “Are you okay?”

She sighed, “actually. no, I was telling Garcia I want to have a baby soon, and then I see things like this and I’m scared to do it alone but I don’t have any other option?” Ranting to him like he was her therapist.

“What do you mean?”

She turned in her chair to look up at him, his soft brown eyes really caring to hear the answer. “Sit,” she insisted.

He pulled the chair over more, sitting close enough that their knees touched. “I’m 36, I’m not having any luck finding a husband or a wife, I want a baby and if I have to do it myself I will, but what if I’m not enough? What if I have a boy and he grows up to be a killer cause he never had a dad?”

“Y/N,” Spencer’s voice was soft as he looked at her with a confused scrunch on his face. “That couldn’t happen, you’re a wonderful person, I love having you on the team and in my life, I know you’d raise good kids, you should do it.”

“Really?” She beamed at him, the words touching her heart and making her swoon a bit.

“I mean, it would be hard,” he added reason to the conversation. “You’d have to take time off, which would be good for bonding. My mother raised me alone and I turned out semi-fine, I don't hold any resentment for her not finding someone for me to call dad or even step-mom for that matter. I think if you give them all the love in the world like I know you’re capable of, your child will love you like you’re their whole world.”

She laughed as she noticed the tears welling in her eyes, waving her hand's in front of her face so she wouldn’t fully sob. “Do you want to be the donor?” She made a joke to change the topic.

Spencer laughed then too, “sure!”

Everything got serious again then, she looked at him a little differently. “Really? Cause honestly, you’re like a Grade A donor profile in the most expensive clinic!” She couldn’t help herself from laughing again at the absurdity.

“I’ve always wanted to be a dad, 40 isn’t too old to have a child, is it?” He seemed to have decided that rather fast.

“Okay,” she nodded with a smile, “okay. That’s cool, sick,” she felt the words get smaller as she thought it over.

“I get it if you were kidding,” Spencer spat out. “I realize now that you might have been making a joke, I hope it’s not weird that I agreed so fast, it’s just that I think you’re a very beautiful and smart woman and the idea of helping you make a child makes me really excited. I think it would be a very good idea if you were being serious, but I get it if you’re not.”

She let him get it all out, always loving when he got like this on a case or in person, nervous or just because he wanted to talk, she loved to listen. And no one ever let him finish his thoughts, always wanting to beat him to the punch.

“Spence, I think you’re really handsome and smart too,” she smiled. “If you’re also serious, I am too.”

“How would we?” He asked as he pulled at the top button of his dress shirt, swallowing like he couldn't breathe all of a sudden.

“If you’re not opposed, I’m sure the good old-fashioned way would work?” She laughed, laying her hand on his knee softly.

It was like sparks flew at that moment as if all the fluorescent lights in the bullpen could have exploded and she wouldn’t have even noticed. Captivated by Spencer's eyes as he gasped at her touch.

“Not opposed in the slightest,” he said softly as he held his own hand over hers.

She couldn’t help herself from smiling. “Well, I think I’m all done here if you want to come to my place for a movie?”

“Sure,” he replied, offering her a hand as they stood up together.

He returned his chair to his desk, both of them grabbing their coats and bags and rejoining at the door.

“I should go say goodnight to Penny,” Y/N said softly. “Wanna come?”

“Yeah,” he followed her through the door and down the hall to the tech room.

“Knock knock,” Y/N said as she walked through the open door. “Oh great and knowledgeable one, I’ve come with my nightly farewell.”

“Oh my knight, I shall miss you,” Penelope played along, sauntering over to her and wrapping her up in a hug. “I leave you with this until your return.”

“Through scorching deserts, and blistering winds, I will make it back to you, always,” she tried not to laugh as she hugged her back. “I also brought forth the jester.”

Spencer was laughing in the doorway as the two of them looked at him, “hi?”

“The pretty boy, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Um,” Y/N smiled, “Spencer and I are just going back for our nightly movie.”

Penelope looked at both of them, jaw slightly gaped, “nightly? I thought it was a case by case thing?”

“It’s a good excuse for us to talk,” Spencer smiled at her.

“Mhmm,” she smirked, “well have fun.”

She pulled Y/N back into another hug, hiding her face from Spencer, “I need all the dirty deets in the morning.”

Y/N smacked her arm softly as she pulled back, “goodnight pretty penny.”

“Farewell brave knight, handle with care, Jester,” Penelope pointed her finger at him, giving him a knowing glance.

“Yes, oh Knowledgeable one, always,” he blushed.

He reached out his hand for Y/N, interlocking their fingers as they left her office and headed towards the elevator. A rare moment of bravery on his part, holding hands like this didn’t spread a lot of germs.

“We’re going to have to discuss a lot of logistics like realistically this isn’t going to be just a fuck and oh look its a baby. This is a real live baby that we need to raise and care for,” she reminded him as the elevator doors shut.

“I’d like to be as involved as you’d let me be,” Spencer replied. “I don’t have to be 'dad' to them, I could be uncle Spence that’s fine too.”

“Oh no, you’d be Dad for sure,” she nudged him slightly. “I mean like, weekends and holidays and birthdays, your mom will want to see them surely, my parents will want to see them. Housing,” she looked at him horrified. “I have an apartment with 2 bedrooms, I don’t think I could let them sleep somewhere without me.”

“I have been looking at houses,” Spencer added before the doors opened to the garage, “you’re driving right?”

“Yeah, you were saying?” She replied, digging her keys out of her purse and leading him towards the car.

“Derek Morgan, I’m not sure if you’ve met him yet, he fixes up old homes in DC and Virginia now. He just finished one and I helped him with it. I think I’m going to buy it from him. It has 4 bedrooms, we could all live under the same roof? It would be easier to co-parent.”

She was amazed at how fast he adapted to this as if he’d been having the same thoughts she was having. At a certain point wanting kids becomes a pipe dream filled with desperation and emptiness, he looks like he’s experienced it too.

She opened her door and sat down before replying to him again. Thinking about how wonderful he was going to be during this process, “thank you, Spencer.”

“For what?” He asked as they both closed their doors.

She sighed, relaxing into her seat as she started the car. She turned to him softly, not wanting to cry as she spoke softly. “Being a mom is more of a dream to me than joining the BAU was, this is the best gift you could give me.”

He reached his hand out again, holding it softly. Running his thumb over her knuckles. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Yeah,” she nodded softly.

He couldn’t make eye contact with her, staring at their hands as he rubbed her skin.

“Um, I’ve been pretty infatuated with you since you joined,” he let it out finally. Like a ton of bricks off his back he relaxed a bit, “after everything with Maeve, Cat and Max… oh god, and JJ... I was so worried that if I got too close to you I’d lose you. I tried to keep the feelings in, that's why I said what I did to Penelope. She knows how I feel about you.”

It was like fireworks were going off in her chest as the butterflies erupted inside of her. She sat up, turning to him more and ripping her hand from his grasp.

It startled him, he looked at her anxiously as if she was going to yell at him. But she placed both hands on his cheeks and pulled him into a kiss.

His arms snaked around her waist, wishing they could get closer if it wasn’t for the damn centre console of her car. Pressing their lips together, hard, as they breathed each other in. Desperation taking control, she wasn’t able to let go of him.

When she finally did pull away, however, the look on his face was priceless. Like expensive art, every line and freckle had a meaning. He was surprised, enamoured, grateful, desperate for more.

She smiled softly, rubbing her thumbs over his cheek. “Good, cause it would be awkward having your baby and not getting to love you every day too.”

taglist: @shemarmooresfedora @spencers-dria @spookyspence @reidsfish @manuosorioh @mochionly @samuel-de-champagne-problems @jswessie187 @k-k0129 @calm-and-doctor

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

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scuttling · 3 years

Text

Mega Thread Count Sheets

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 2,395 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Possessive Hotch, Dom/sub, Daddy kink, Masturbation, Come marking, Unprotected sex, Manhandling, Rough sex, Breeding kink, Dirty talk, Established relationship, This really got away from me Summary: Aaron and his girlfriend spend the night at Rossi's after a family dinner, and some of her comments earn both discipline and reward. (+Hotch calling the reader 'pet' rights.) Link to A03 or read below! It’s Friday night, and everyone gathers at Rossi’s for a family dinner—it’s homemade gnocchi, so good she could inhale her plateful and Aaron’s too, and the wine is flowing, funny stories are being told. After dinner, she sinks against Aaron on the sofa, warm, happy, laughing at JJ’s high school antics; they aren’t drunk, but cozy and sleepy enough that when it’s time to leave, neither of them really want to drive home.

“You can stay here if you want; I’ve got plenty of space,” Rossi says, and she’s not sure, because she’s wearing a short little sundress, has been teasing Aaron pretty hard tonight, and she imagines he’s got some plans for them when they get home.

“Okay; thanks, Dave,” he says, surprising her, and he excuses himself for the restroom while Rossi goes to get everything set up. Aaron returns before Rossi, and she leans up to give him a kiss.

“He’s putting us up in a guest room in the other wing. The other wing. He’s so rich he’s got wings, what the hell.” She wraps her arms around Aaron’s midsection, hugs him close. “The absurdity of that aside, if we’re in the other wing, that means we’ll be far enough away that he can’t hear us… if we were to do something noisy, that is.” He leans down for a soft kiss; she knows he won’t give her more than that, since Rossi is still nearby.

“Are you planning to be noisy?” he whispers, and she looks down at his lips, briefly, and back up to his eyes.

“Aren’t I always?” He looks at her like he wants to devour her, and she’s totally on board with that plan, but then Rossi strides in and they both pull apart. He points them to their room, down the hall, third door on the left, and then says goodnight, heads down the opposite hallway to his bedroom.

She and Aaron walk down the hall, passing paintings and artful knick-knacks that probably cost more than her car. “He made all this money writing books?”

“He sure as hell didn’t make it at the FBI,” Aaron says with a chuckle, and she whistles.

“Damn, I need to start writing books. Maybe like a Fifty Shades type thing, about you and me.” She makes her voice breathy and low and ridiculous. “He’s my super hot superior, and I know it’s wrong, but just thinking about getting on my knees for him makes my innocent cunt quiver with anticipation.” He glances over at her with his eyebrows raised.

“I can make your cunt quiver.” She grins.

“I know you can.”

When they enter the room, it’s gorgeous, if a little extravagant, made up in gold and cream and crimson, like something in a castle and not a place just outside DC. She brushes her hand over the pillows, because they look soft, and then she pulls back the corner of the blanket, slips between the sheets, still fully dressed.

“Oh my god, these have to have a thread count of like, two million,” she says, wiggling her bare thighs back and forth against them. Aaron huffs.

“I buy us high thread count sheets.”

“But do you buy us ultra high thread count sheets?” she asks, still wiggling. “Mega high thread count? I think these are mega high thread count.” He sits down beside her, runs his hand over the sheets, frowns.

“They’re not that nice. They probably aren’t even Egyptian cotton, and you love the Egyptian cotton,” he counters. He sounds a little... off. It makes her wonder what’s on his mind.

“No, they’re probably like… Roman cotton, or Calabrian cotton. Something super Italian and decadent.” She arches her eyebrows, and he pulls back the blanket and sheet, so he’s presented with her body; he kneels around her legs, hands on her waist. Her breath picks up.

“Naughty girl. Are you trying to make daddy feel bad? Like he doesn’t fucking spoil you enough already?” He takes her wrists in one of his hands and pins them above her head, pushes up her dress over her hips with the other. He sighs deeply, closes his eyes briefly. “You’re not wearing panties, pet.”

She licks her lips. She’d actually forgotten all about that. “I took them off earlier.”

“When? Why?” he asks, eyes stern and making her squirmy. She resists against him a little, just for the fun of it, and he holds her tighter.

“Before we left home. They were wet, daddy.” He leans in, hovers over her and moves her dress up further, bares her tits. She licks her lips again.

“Oh? Why were they wet?”

“Because I love you,” she purrs, and he catches her jaw in his hand, presses a crushing kiss to her lips. She groans into it, tries to roll her hips, but his knees on either side of her don’t allow it. “Daddy.”

“No. You mean to tell me my little pet was walking around here all evening with no panties on? In that little dress?” He takes his hands off her, and she pulls her wrists down, but he grabs them up again, shoves them over her head, and barks, “stay.”

He opens his belt, his fly, takes out his cock and then covers her wrists again; he tightens his knees around her hips, she can feel them digging in, and starts stroking himself, staring down at her face.

“Naughty little thing, prancing around here with a bare pussy. Don’t you know you belong to daddy? Don’t you know this pussy belongs to daddy?” He leans in so he can rub the head between her soaked lips, and again, she wants to buck up for more, but he won’t allow it. “You’re not coming, I’m coming. I’m coming all over what’s mine. And then, when I’m ready for more, I’m going to hold you down and use you, naughty pet, and if you’re good for me up until then maybe I’ll let you get off. Understand?”

She whimpers, struggles, but ultimately nods.

“Yes, daddy.”

He jerks his cock smoothly but quickly, wants to come fast, but he pauses to take her dress off completely, and then his own clothes; he probably realized these were the only clothes they have here, and doing a morning walk of shame covered in come stains is not a great look.

As soon as they’re naked, though, he grabs her wrists again, gets his knees on either side of her so she can’t move, and strokes his cock again. He’s watching her, his eyes set and focused on her face, and she’s watching him, his mouth and his hand and his thick dick disappearing inside his fist.

“You don’t like it when I don’t let you come, do you, pet? You don’t like it when I don’t let you touch me.” She perks up a little at being addressed—sometimes when she’s being disciplined this way, he gets himself off like she’s not even there—and she pants, squirms, and shakes her head.

“No, daddy, I don’t like that. I want to touch you, and I want you to make me come.” Her chest heaves, the only part of her that can really move, and she sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. “But I know you need to come on me first, daddy. I deserve to have to wait, because I was naughty.” Aaron grunts, and fists his cock more desperately. So fucking sexy.

“Yes, you have to wait, but you’re my good girl now. You’re behaving for me; I’ll make you come soon, after you’re covered in me.” Almost like he wills it to happen, he tenses, comes, makes sure to get some on her tits and stomach and pussy, covering her with thick ropes that have her drenched from the inside out. She moans like it’s her own orgasm, wanton and eager, and when he��s done he leans in to take her mouth in a hard, passionate kiss; he releases her wrists, and she sinks her fingers in his hair, pulls him closer, pants against his lips.

“Love you,” she says with wide open eyes, and he kisses her softly, brushes his thumb over her lips.

“Love you so much.” He lays beside her while he recovers—she’ll manage to get him hard again relatively quickly, but he does need some time in between—and gently drags one fingertip through his come, tracing abstract patterns, rubbing it over her nipples and around her belly button, up and down her aching, throbbing pussy. She wants so much more, but she’s good and patient, just the way daddy wants her to be.

After laying like that for a little bit, Aaron takes her hand and guides it to his cock, lets her wrap around him and touch him and bring him to full hardness, and she closes her eyes, hums, licks her lips. Touching him after so much time not being allowed to touch him gets her extremely aroused, her whole body sensitive, her mind hazy with pleasure. It’s the best kind of reward by far.

The slow, gentle part of their evening is abruptly over when he flips her onto her stomach, come-covered body face-down against Rossi’s pretty crimson sheets. Jesus. She moans so loudly she’s not sure Rossi can’t hear her, even from the other wing.

He gets the head of his cock inside her, covers both of her hands with his, and slams inside, repeatedly, earning whimpering, desperate moans as his speed and intensity increases.

“How do those sheets feel?” he coos in her ear, her cheek smashed into them, as he fucks hard against her ass; her body is bouncing on the bed with each rough thrust, and she whines, shivers.

“Fine, daddy, but—mmh, nothing feels better than you.” In truth, it feels amazing, but only because her belly and tits are still covered in his come and she feels like a dirty whore; only Aaron can make her delight in ruining Rossi’s expensive sheets, which is a complete asshole move by anyone’s standards, and also really gross.

“That’s right, pet. I might never have a mansion with multiple wings, but I’ll always take care of you. You don’t have to want for anything.”

“I know daddy. I don’t want for anything but you.”

“And what do you want from me now?” he asks, pounding harder and kissing her cheek softly. Things like these are what really get her off, the marriage of tenderness and roughness, the way he knows what to do to maintain the balance.

“Harder, daddy. Take me, daddy,” she pants, and he squeezes her hands and doubles down, wrecking her pussy, no doubt bruising her hips with his unyielding thighs pressed tightly against them. “Maybe…” She doesn’t continue, because it’s nothing they’ve discussed yet, but he moves his mouth to her ear and tugs on it with his teeth.

“Maybe what, pet? Daddy always wants to hear you.” She squeezes her eyes closed and whimpers, getting close. She hopes the idea doesn’t freak him out. They’ve only been dating for a year.

“Maybe try to put a baby in me, daddy. I’m on birth control tonight, but you could practice?”

Aaron loses his mind.

“Oh, you want daddy to put a baby in you? You want me to put my come deep and then fuck it deeper into you until there’s no doubt you’ll end up pregnant with my babies, pet?” His thrusts have been quick and harsh, but shallow, up until now, but he adjusts his knees to slide in deeply, fully sheathed inside her, rocking her body and making her ass shake. “You’ll take it so good, won’t you? You’ll let me breed you full of babies, one after another.”

“Fuck, yes daddy, breed me full daddy. Wanna have your babies, wanna be full of you, wanna be yours.” He lifts his right hand off of hers and puts it on the back of her neck, grips tight, and leans in to press his teeth against her shoulder, breathing harshly.

“You are mine. I’ll make sure you never forget it.” She won’t, couldn’t, never, babbles something to that effect and then comes seeing stars, howling his name, and daddy, and oh.

Aaron whispers her name, and sweet baby, and perfect little pet, and changes nothing, keeps drilling hard and deep while she whines and whimpers over being used like he’s using her.

“That’s it, baby. Good girl,” he murmurs in her ear while he fucks her into the mattress. “Good girl making pretty noises on daddy’s cock; I’m going to put a baby in you, we’ll make a baby, a perfect little baby with your nose and my eyes, pet, promise.” She moans, wrecked, her hair frizzy, sweat clinging to her temples, and he comes with a grunt, moves his hands to her ass and spreads her while he spills inside, so he can be as deep as possible.

He pistons his hips a half a dozen times after, and then grinds slowly like he’s making sure she’s covered in come. It’s incredibly hot, and feels so good, and she comes again and then sags against the bed and lets him move inside her until he’s ready to pull out. When he does, he rolls her over, takes her in his arms, and they just hold each other and whisper and breathe for so long she starts to drift to sleep.

He gets them in the shower, cleans her up, kisses her lips and cheeks and all the places his body hurt hers, and she sighs, smiles, and thanks him. He thanks her back. The next morning, they’re getting ready to leave, and she is almost out the door when she hears Aaron talking to Rossi.

“Really nice sheets in that room. What kind are they?”

“They’re great, aren’t they? Peruvian cotton—Pima.” Aaron makes a sound of understanding.

“How much did they cost?”

“Around $120, I think.” She can hear the sound of paper—money—and ducks around the corner to see Aaron with his wallet out, handing Rossi a few bills.

“Sorry.” He pats Rossi on the shoulder and walks toward her, raises his eyebrows. “Ready to go?”

She sighs, nods, and takes his hand.

When they get home, they get online and order the sheets. And pick out a crib. Taglist ❤️: @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @wolviesbabes

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader

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mxpseudonym · 3 years

Text

More, Even If It’s Too Much

Pairing: Arthur Shelby x OC or she/her pronouns Reader

Summary: Arthur falls for his innocent, young bookkeeper who doesn’t actually have an innocent bone in her body

Length: 1396 words (allegedly)

Warnings: Age difference, Manipulation, Unhealthy-ish ideals

Request: for the arthur smut idea - how about the reader is younger than him, maybe her 20s and she is somehow around the shelbys a lot and he falls madly in love with her but doesn't want to bother her cause she seems really innocent and sweet, but in reality she is daydreaming about how he would just have his way with her and she teases him a lot, maybe by sucking on lollipops or whatnot, until he just can't hold it back and somehow they get it on🥵

A/N: I felt rusty when I was writing this, but it was a joy. I hope you like it! I took a liberty and made it a tiny bit dark. If anyone wants to hear about my analysis on my own story, I may just have to share.

He said her name, but all she could hear was a snap.

Pulling Arthur into his office on a quiet afternoon and lifting the hem of her dress to reveal what his Christmas bonus bought her was the last straw to break under her many efforts. Her gaze lifted from where she ran her fingers over the lacy hem of her new garter belt and looked into the dark eyes of her boss.

Arthur looked frustrated and maybe even a bit angry. His fists clenched, and his jaw tightened like he was on the verge of barreling over the line he'd drawn. Her wide eyes narrowed, and her innocent smile shifted into a wicked smirk. This was perfect. He was perfect.

"Have you finally noticed me, Mr. Shelby?"

She was sure the paperweight that cracked against the floor was expensive, but the experience of finally having Arthur push her onto his messy desk was worth more than the whole of this shady company.

"Notice you? Fuckin' hell, lovey, you're all I can think about."

His lips were a bit chapped against her soft ones, always prepared for the possibility that Arthur would lose his good sense like she knew he could.

She'd been around the Shelby's since she started running numbers as a preteen. There wasn’t a day that she didn’t have a crush on the older man. He was all heart, a dangerously open book that she wanted on her bedside table very night. Now as a young lady with a knack for bookkeeping, she was the only thing Arthur insisted on taking to the London offices during the Shelby Co Limited expansion and she was glad.

It wasn’t until a couple of years before when she turned 20 that she realized how much more she wanted to know. What did he look like when he was content or overwhelmed with pleasure? Would he ever get mad at her? About what, she wondered. She wanted to know everything.

Tommy wasn't so sure about it at first. It wasn't a secret, after all. Arthur couldn't touch her without going red and went out of his way to make her life easier any way he could. At some point, even she had to tell him to stop making her so many cups of tea just how she liked it. The eldest Shelby had been ready to risk everything for her for ages. But it wasn't the pining that worried the perceptive middle Shelby.

It was the look she had when no one was watching. Her eyes, only ever set on Arthur, were insatiable. And anything or anyone who pulled Arthur's concentration away from her received a glare that could kill. But maybe what worried Tommy more was that Arthur was a fool.

He was too convinced she was a nice girl who fixed his hair with a tender touch and laughed brightly at his silly jokes. Even when she got Arthur to do whatever she said or steered other women in the opposite direction just to keep his attention, she was still young and assuming to Arthur, which only worked to her advantage.

Nice girls finished last as far as she was concerned. She may have been young and seemingly innocent, but she didn't desire the mad dog of a man without knowing him. With his inability to avoid a devilish addiction, Arthur Shelby only needed to be tempted to devour her. He only needed a little hand brushing, a compliment on his appearance paired with a giggle, a low-cut blouse. She knew it, and Tommy knew she knew it.

"Tommy says I put you on too high of a pedestal," Arthur mused one day when they stood in the back alley of the Eden Club for a smoke break.

Well, Arthur lit his cigarette and forgot to inhale while his eyes followed her swirling tongue around the lemon-flavored lolly. Deciding to quit smoking was an all too convenient addition to her seduction plan. She reached up and plucked what was left of his cigarette from his fingers and tossed it away. She raised her candy to his lips instead, and he was obedient in taking it, making her chuckle.

"It could be higher."

Arthur didn't waste any time, or rather, he didn't quite know how to go slow. It was all or nothing. It was hardly looking her in the eye or hungrily taking in her taste in the back office of the Eden Club.

His calloused hands still had a slight tremble to them even as they pulled down the soft sleeves of her dress, leaving it to pool around her waist, but one hand pressed against the desk beside her, caging her in, while the other trailed along her skin, leaving her gasping. She wasn't going anywhere. A gasp escaped her lips, and a shiver ran down her spine when he ghosted over her nipple. She jumped slightly when his lips ghosted over her ear.

"Are you afraid, lovey?" He rasped in a way she'd always wanted to hear directed at her.

"I'm afraid you'll stop," she answered, her own voice desperate. Arthur leaned back suddenly and looked down at her. Now he wondered just how blind he'd been. Was she always this forward with him?

"And I thought you were a sweet, pure lamb."

She placed her hand over his and guided it lower, beneath the bunched of fabric, and pushed aside cotton until her breathing was shallow and Arthur was dipping between her slick warmth. And yet, her eyes never left his. She licked her slightly parted lips while Arthur swallowed.

"How could I be when you leave me like this every day? I'm not nice, Arthur," she revealed, desperate as ever. "I'm greedy."

She kept his pace easily. It was fluid if you could call it anything other than ravenous. Clothes were forgotten on the floor next to the holsters and the guns. Their names flowed between moans and cries, getting cut short or sighed at an exquisite movement.

Pressed between Arthur and the wall, she was still trying to adjust to his size but refused to let him slow down. She'd been thinking about this for too long, and her own hands weren't enough anymore. Even Arthur teasing her a bit at the beginning, rubbing the head of his weeping cock over her entrance and around her sensitive bud, had been agonizing enough to make her cum before he even put it in. She was losing count of every peak she was experiencing, but all that mattered was that he moved with no resistance. Every sound and experienced movement he made sent heat straight to her core. Arthur was no saint, and he'd certainly been around the bend, but she just as hungry as he was. That was a first.

"More," she moaned as her eyes rolled. Arthur let out a haughty laugh that she didn't mind.

"You think you can take more?" He asked, but he tightened his grip on her thighs and thrust hard and deep into her in the same moment. She could only dig her nails into his shoulder and tug at his hair with a silent cry. "What are you greedy for?"

"You," she finally gasped loudly at the resulting deep thrusts.

"Me?"

"I want every part of you. Even if it's too much," she whined and grabbed Arthur's face in her hands. He was looking at her, watching her, in awe as her eyes welled up and she tightened around him. "And I want you to look at me only. Just always at me. Oh god!"

She shook and bucked against him, her eyes closing tight and her nose scrunching up. Still, Arthur kept her wish of never letting his eyes leave her contorted, euphoric face as she mumbled his name even as he followed her release with his own. She really was something else.

It was perplexing to see her transform back into the girl he thought she was. Even with her cheeks warm and a silly grin on her face from their salacious act, she still looked precious and not like the vixen dragging her nails down his back and biting his skin just moments ago. It made him want to apologize for being so rough. She'd have plenty of bruises of her own in the morning. As if she sensed what he thought while he helped her into her coat, she turned and pulled him down into a kiss.

"Arthur, thank you for taking me so seriously."

"Well, I've loved you for a while, haven't I?" He asked, turning again. She perked up with her usual smile.

"Good. Because I want you to want me more than anything else too."

He scoffed and shook his head. Something else entirely. He reached up and pinched her cheek.

"When you say something like that with such a pretty face, how can I say no, lovey?"

#Arthur Shelby #Arthur Shelby Imagine #Arthur Shelby fic #Arthur Shelby x reader #Arthur Shelby x OC #Arthur Shelby smut #Peaky Blinders smut

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janetbrown711 · 3 years

Note

“Why are you so nice to me” wakko or yakko max

To Wakko's delight, his brother kept good on his promise. Weeks passed and his brother devoted several days to restoring their bond just as it once was (the other days Yakko spent with Dot or with the both of them).

Heck, Wakko was so secure in his brother not abandoning him when Yakko asked if he could start up writing to Max again (at a much slower pace than before, he promised), Wakko said yes (barely) without hesitation. He knew that Max made him happy... and that he kinda owed it to Yakko to let him hang out with him again, as their little "not exactly falling out" was his fault (to him, anyway).

Everything was starting to seem... good- perfect, even.

However, Dot's birthday was rapidly approaching and Yakko was starting to get ideas.

"You know what we should do?" He said, lounging on the couch in the sunroom. "We should throw a ball for your birthday, Dot."

Dot perked up from her book. "What? Why? We never held balls for our birthdays before."

Yakko rolled his eyes. "That's because Grandma ruins everything. In this book I'm reading it says it was tradition for the royal family to hold big celebrations on their birthdays. I think it'd be fun- plus a great opportunity for you two to start making some friends."

Oh.

This again.

Wakko tried to laugh it off. "You'd have to get mum and dad to agree, and they've been pretty busy with the flooding in the west."

"Bah, that's mostly dealt with at this point. I'm sure they could use the break too," Yakko countered.

"B-but mom's coronation wasn't even that long ago," Wakko argued.

"It was over three months ago," Dot rolled her eyes. "I think a party would be fun," she looked to Yakko.

"Didn't you have fun at mom's coronation?" Yakko asked his middle sibling.

"Well I- I suppose I did..." Wakko thought back to the massive chalk drawing he had covered the floor with. It was pretty fun, and it made a lot of people happy.

"See? I'm sure a party in Dot's honor would be fun all the same- plus, making friends is great, I'm sure you'll love it," Yakko said with a reassuring smile on his face, though Wakko still wasn't quite convinced. However, he could see how much both of his siblings wanted this (even though the idea was only seconds old) and who was he to say no?

"Alright, I guess we can do that," He said, which made Dot clap in excitement as she began to detail everything she'd want for a party in her honor.

Wakko had a feeling this was going to be interesting.

.o0o.

As expected, their parents were ecstatic at the idea, and they spared no expense in attempts to create what they believed a much-needed celebration for the people of Warnerstock and their allies.

And to say it truly was Dot's creative vision would not be false. There were a lot of pinks- a lot, a lot of pinks. Though mostly tasteful, if you saw it it was hard to look away from.

But still, Wakko was happy for her, she was having the time of her life planning it all out with their dad, who was equally happy to spoil his little girl.

However, he knew deep down that despite what Yakko had sworn, her party was probably going to be very different from the coronation. He hoped it would be fun, but the more he watched decorations being put into place and talks about the guests and feasts the more he was beginning to worry.

He didn't say anything though, as the rest of his family seemed far too happy for him to want to bother them with his plight. They deserved this break, he was probably just being dramatic anyways. He'd be fine- and maybe make a friend just like Yakko said he would.

Wakko did his best to remain optimistic, despite the knots forming deep within.

It wasn't too long before the grand day arrived. Wakko had thought they had pulled out all the stops just for decorating but the day itself was insane too. Dot was showered in presents and even was taken out to town with William to go shopping for anything her heart desired, meanwhile Yakko, Wakko, and Lena stayed behind and supervised the final touches on the decorations.

Okay- really only Lena supervised, but Yakko and Wakko were technically there too. They didn't stay with her long, as she gave them a list of things to check up on so she could talk to some people which they were fine with.

Together, the brothers walked through the massive dining hall, checking curtains, flowers, vases, tapestries, etc. to make sure they were in the exact right places (not that the list really said where they were supposed to be) and checked them all off.

"So... are you looking forward to tonight?" Yakko asked, checking off 'left-most curtains'.

"Oh- uh- Yeah! I am... are you?" Wakko quickly said.

"Oh yeah, totally, it'll be great to see Max. It's been a while... you're still cool with that, right?" Yakko glanced down at him before checking another thing off.

Wakko nodded. "I won't try to prank or drive him away this time, I swear."

Yakko snorted. "I know you know better, I'm just asking if you're okay with me hanging out with him for tonight instead of you."

"Yeah, I am. You did say I should make friends after all," Wakko said, fiddling with gloves. Yakko looked away from the checklist and gave his little brother a side hug.

"I'm proud of you, you know that?" Yakko asked.

"Yeah, yeah," It was Wakko's turn to laugh.

"I'm serious-" Yakko let go and punched Wakko's arm lightly. "You're doing great. You should be proud of yourself too, you've come a long way."

Wakko smiled a little. "Maybe."

Yakko chuckled. "Well, it looks like we're just about done with this list. Wanna go turn it in to mom and go get changed into uncomfortable suits and greet guests for hours on end, or do you wanna just double and triple check the list until the last second?"

"Definitely check the list," Wakko laughed too.

And so the brothers did, until Lena caught wind of their shenanigans and forced them to start getting ready for the party (though they did cut a lot of time so technically they still regarded it as a win). At least those outfits weren't the worst they've ever worn (they were pretty confident nothing would ever top how itchy and miserable their funeral outfits were). Still, standing around and greeting people was a dreadfully boring job, not to mention awkward until their father and Dot eventually came to join them and actually do their job properly.

They knew their mom was busy, but leaving the two of them in charge was a little questionable.

Plus, after all that interaction, Wakko was starting to feel weird. Tired, but also not-? It was complicated. All he knew was that he wanted to be alone and maybe pace for a while, that'd be nice.

However, the party was to start in not too long, so he really didn't have time for that. He followed Yakko around for a while to the main party room where the people they had greeted before were all chatting amongst themselves. It wasn't too loud yet, but Wakko's tail twitched nervously as he weaved between people and conversations.

He hadn't been this nervous at the coronation- Wakko really wished he could figure out why he was feeling this way. Alas, he was unable.

He did feel a little better as Yakko and he found a spot of their own to chill in for a while, away from all the people.

"A lot of people came to this shindig, huh?" Yakko joked, "though probably no more than those who attended mom's coronation."

"Yeah..." Wakko said, trying to compare them mentally.

"More kids though, which is really good for you and Dot to make friends," Yakko said.

"Yep, yep," Wakko feigned enthusiasm.

"Are you okay..?" Yakko asked, causing Wakko to straighten out his act instantly and nod.

"Of course," he said. Yakko frowned.

"You don't have to lie you know," He remarked. Wakko bit his lip.

"M'just a little tired," he shrugged, figuring it was close enough to the truth.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" Yakko asked worriedly.

Wakko nodded again. "I'll be fine, I'm probably just hungry."

Yakko laughed a little. "Alright, but you'll tell me if anything is wrong, right?"

"Mhm."

"Good."

The brothers stood in a bored silence for a while, before the rest of their family walked in and the festivities officially began.

It started with the feast, which was pretty harmless, as Wakko enjoyed talking with his family and the food was "quite excellent". The hall was filled with good cheer and hearty laughter, which he could appreciate.

However, after that, things began to blur.

It seemed only moments ago he was eating when suddenly everything was taken away and it turned into social hour. and Dot and their parents disappeared once more. He recalled Yakko asking if it was okay for him to go to Max, to which Wakko nodded and even pushed him away some. Oh god- he hoped that wasn't too aggressive.

Now he was alone. People were talking, walking, dancing, all sorts of activities. Wakko tried to take it all in, but all of the colors and sounds were starting to burn his eyes.

Friends. He was told he had to make friends.

He tried looking around for kids his age, but just turning his head made him dizzy.

Hmph.

Still, he was determined to function as a normal child would so he began weaving through the rapidly shifting crowd as he had earlier, just with a much louder and more busy crowd.

Suddenly his suit was starting to feel a lot more uncomfortable than before. God- if he could just find someone-

He bumped right into a lady in a bright purple dress. He quickly stuttered an apology before scurrying away as fast as he could, not even waiting for a response.

Seriously- was his suit trying to choke him? He pulled on it desperately, but if anything it just made the pull tighter. Wakko growled to himself as he walked further and further away from whoever that lady was, until he hit the wall.

At least the marble was cool, it was starting to feel like it was a million degrees in here.

Still, it wasn't enough. he still felt hot, and stuffy- was he even breathing anymore?

...Yes, yes he was. Rather fast though- oh dear, was that his heart? oh god- what was happening? Why was the music so loud? Why was his collar so tight? When was the last time he blinked? Where were these "kids" Wakko was supposed to make friends with?

Wait- no, he could see those. A group of them- shit, they were looking at him. Wakko noticed his nail was twitching nervously- he grabbed it and forced it to stop, but the kids laughed.

Wakko ran away again, covering his ears, his face turning red and the knot in his stomach transporting itself to his throat.

"No, no, no, no. Please, not now..." He pleaded with himself, but he didn't listen, and tears started to form. Wakko looked desperately for a quick way out, but still couldn't find any- curse the size of this place.

However, as his eyes darted around anxiously, he spotted something- a table covered in a white cloth that went to the ground. Without hesitation, Wakko went to it, making sure no one saw him before crawling underneath.

Wakko stayed there, covering his ears and rocking back and forth awhile, cursing his stupid brain for making these stupid tears that wouldn't end. He also cursed the stupid music for being too loud and the guests for being so many.

He wanted Mom.

He wanted mom to come and find him and scoop him up and take him to the playroom and sit in the rocking chair and rock him to sleep.

However, she didn't come.

No one did.

He was alone, and these tears weren't making him any calmer. Everything still felt so loud- it wasn't this loud before- he loved mom's coronation. Why was his brain so stupid?!

The young prince continued like that for a while, before someone came and lifted the tablecloth. He tried to make a run for it, but the someone grabbed his arm before he could- Wakko turned to look at their face and-

It was Max.

"S-sorry, I probably shouldn't... grab you," He let go, and Wakko scooted back, though he didn't leave. Max saw this as an invitation and joined him under the table.

"A-are- uh... Are you okay?" Max asked. Wakko looked away and shrugged.

"Right... not much of a talker..." Max recalled. Wakko nodded once, though he instantly regretted it, as it made his head feel weird.

Max tapped his fingers on his knee as he tried to figure something out. Wakko avoided any looks the Disney Prince gave him.

"Do you want some water? I can go get you some water," Max offered. Wakko sniffled and thought about it, before nodding once more (and regretting it once more).

with that, he disappeared, though not for too long.

Wakko noticed he stopped crying.

"Here, take this," Max handed him the glass. Wakko accepted the offering, taking a long drink.

Well, that felt at least a little bit better.

He glanced at Max.

"A-aren't you supposed to be with Yakko?" he asked.

"Dot was practically begging Yakko for a dance and I let him, it's her day after all," Max chuckled.

That made sense.

Wakko looked down at the glass, tapping his finger against it and looking at the water ripple.

"Do you need to step out of the party for a sec?" Max asked.

Wakko shrugged, taking a sip.

"Here- I'll help you find an exit," Max said, getting up and holding the cloth open for Wakko.

He hesitated.

He didn't deserve this- such kindness from the guy he locked in the tower mere weeks ago- it didn't make sense.

Then again, he'd give anything to get out of here.

Wakko listening to his senses and got out.

Carefully he followed Max through the gigantic room until they eventually reached a door, through which both of them slipped out of and into a calm and dark hallway.

Instantly, Wakko felt calmed, taking a deep breath.

"Wanna sit down?" Max asked, gesturing to the couches nearby. Wakko nodded. However, instead of sitting on the couch, he chose to lay on the cool floor, even taking off his gloves so he could feel the marble with his fingers.

Max didn't say anything for a while, not seeming to mind the silence. Which was good- because Wakko didn't feel like breaking it.

After a while though, a thought nagged at his brain.

Why.

Why on earth would Max help him? After everything he did? After everything he jeopardized? It didn't make sense.

Wakko sat up. Max looked at him but didn't say anything.

Wakko sighed.

"Why-?" He paused.

"Why... are you being so nice to me?"

"You were in trouble, I couldn't ignore that," Max shrugged. Wakko frowned, putting his gloves back on.

"I-i... Aren't you mad? At least a little?" He asked.

"It wasn't my first time being locked in a room for hours on end," Max snorted.

"Y-yeah, but I tried to hurt you. And Yakko..." Wakko looked at the ground. "I know how much you mean to him."

Max blinked.

"I- uh... well-" Max struggled with his words a moment.

"I don't... blame you, I guess. It's as new to you as it is to me and with a past and family tree like yours, I guess I don't blame you for lashing out? I dunno," Max shrugged, looking away.

Huh...

"Still... you didn't have to do this."

"I wanted to. Trust me, I would've helped any kid I found under there, but I'm glad it was you," Max said.

Wakko looked at him, deciding whether or not he believed that. Ultimately, he did.

"You know... Yakko talks a lot about you," Max said, piquing Wakko's interest.

"He worries a lot, but he says you're a really sweet kid, and I believe that," Max smiled a little. "You should be easier on yourself, you're still growing up you know?"

Wakko thought about that.

"I guess," He said. Max snorted.

"You know... you do seem like a pretty cool kid. I'm sorry if you ever felt I was ignoring you, I promise I'll try to make up for it too," He said.

Wakko thought about that too.

"Thanks," He said.

"I really do hope we can grow to like each other. Yakko means a lot to me and you mean a lot to him... you know?" Max blushed a little, scratching the back of his neck.

Wakko nodded, grinning a little.

"So... are we... cool?" Max asked.

Wakko thought about that as well.

"Yeah, we're cool," He said with his signature smile.

"Cool," Max grinned back. "Because I'm pretty sure Yakko might lose it if his dance with Dot ended and he can't find me."

Wakko laughed.

"Will you be alright?" Max asked, standing. Wakko nodded, getting up as well.

"I'm feeling a lot better... though I think I'll look for mum and dad," He said.

"Fair enough," Max nodded once. "Well- uh... see you around, I guess."

"See you around," Wakko laughed at his awkwardness before going back through the doors and back to the party.

Max followed soon thereafter, hoping Yakko wouldn't be too mad or worried at him for his sudden disappearance.

.o0o.

Yakko couldn't believe that a year ago today he thought his parents were dead. It baffled him honestly- he could turn his head and his parents were right there. They were never really dead- it shocked him to remember sometimes.

He also couldn't believe that only a year ago the most celebration they could share for Dot's birthday was a mini cake they had to sneak late at night.

And now look where he was- dancing in the middle of the ballroom with his little sister having the time of his life- despite the fact Dot couldn't stop giggling and he almost dropped her that one time.

However, he had to draw the line after three songs, which Dot understood, and he gave her back to their parents, hoping Max wouldn't be too mad about Dot taking up so much of his time.

"Ah, Max, there you are- sorry for dancing so long, I have a hard time saying no to her," Yakko laughed between pants, scratching the back of his neck.

"You just got done?" Max teased.

"Yeah, she really liked dancing," Yakko shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets.

"You look like you could use a breather," Max raised an eyebrow at him.

"Who, me? Whatever would give that idea?" He played back, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

"C'mon- let's go to the balcony," Max said, taking his hand.

When they got to the door Yakko paused as he looked back at his family, unsure. However, his parents looked at him, and after giving a fair look of warning, they both gave him a thumbs up and nod of approval, and Yakko went off with his prince.

However, they didn't pick a random one, they went all the way through the halls to the usual one they'd go to when Max visited Warnerstock (the kid had a thing for balconies).

"Ahh, fresh air," Yakko embraced the cool night.

"Yep," Max embraced it too, immediately going and leaning on the rails.

"Are you liking the party?" Yakko asked.

"It's pretty good- though a little crowded, but I always know how to find some space," Max answered.

"I feel that- when my birthday rolls around, I'll make it a lot less crowded. I don't know what Dot had against having it outside, but what are you gonna do?" Yakko shrugged.

"I think Wakko would appreciate a smaller shindig," Max said, looking at the garden.

"What makes you say that?" Yakko decided to take his place next to Max also leaning against the railing.

"Ran into him- he wasn't having the best time so I helped ground him again," Max said like it was no big deal.

It was.

"Grounded him? You- managed to calm him down? Is he okay? What happened?" Yakko asked quickly.

"Woah, woah, it's okay. He's totally fine, just... overwhelmed." Max said.

"Oh... well... I'm glad he's okay," Yakko took a deep breath. "And I'm even more glad you were able to help him- that's huge... really."

He looked at him when he said that last part. Max blushed.

"I would've helped anyone, seriously," He looked away.

"Mhm, sure," Yakko teased.

"I am serious though- it probably means a lot to Wakko- he doesn't accept help easily and to allow you... it means he's starting to like you," Yakko said in all seriousness.

"That's good," Max nodded. "I really do want your family to like me- I just... don't have the best ways of showing it, I suppose."

"Hey, you're doing great so far," Yakko held his hand.

There was a moment before Yakko realized what he was doing and both boys broke the gesture.

"Haha... yeahhhh," Max looked at the wall away from Yakko.

There was a stretch of silence between the two, neither knowing what to do. Sure they knew what they wanted but... things are never as easy as just doing what you want.

"My dad and uncles like you too- if you care about that," Max decided to say.

"That's good," Yakko smiled a little, rubbing his thumb on the railing.

Another pause.

"You know- It's funny to me how when we met you thought I might too cool for you," Max remarked.

"When did I ever say that?" Yakko said.

"You called me cool at least fifty times upon first meeting me," Max play punched his arm.

"As I recall, you called me cool, so who's the real cool one here?" Yakko punched him back and the princes laughed.

"Alright, alright, you got me," Max chuckled. "I was just trying to say you were totally wrong, I don't have a cool bone in my body."

"God- you're so cool you don't even know how cool you are. Typical," Yakko sighed teasingly.

"Hey, didn't I just say you're pretty cool too?" Max accused playfully.

"Oh please, you're way cooler. No trauma and with fluffy, luxurious hair like that? Please," Yakko rolled his eyes.

"Oh puh-lease yourself. Trauma is just a cool backstory and you're home is a lot more fun and a lot less crowded and your family is a lot more cool too," Max pointed his finger at Yakko.

"You're exaggerating," Yakko pointed back.

"Nope- not at all. You're one of my first true friends and that automatically makes you very cool," Max crossed his arms.

"Oh yeah? W-well-" Yakko paused, looking at Max carefully.

A pause.

Max's dark brown eyes shined back at Yakko, reflecting the stars that surrounded them wonderfully. His fluffy and luxurious hair framed his face with perfect ease. His signature smile slowly turned into that of curiosity.

Yakko felt his heart flutter.

"I'm not as cool as you think," Yakko stepped down, looking at the ground.

Coward.

Another pause.

"..."

"Well maybe you are right- maybe I am cooler than you."

"Wha-?"

Before Yakko could finish the sentence, Max grabbed his shoulder and pulled him into a kiss.

"S-see?" Max was internally "fjdkaf;sfj"-ing in his brain. "You've won- I'm a lot cooler."

"Y-yeah," Yakko could barely speak his face was as red as Wakko's hat. "You're... yeah," his face melted into a goofy grin.

"Oh god- I'm sorry- d-did you not mean that..?" Max panicked, quickly becoming embarrassed.

"N-no!" Yakko snapped to life. "I-i... I- uh..."

"I liked it," He managed to say. Max smiled.

"W-... Wanna do it again?" Yakko proposed, and Max nodded, and they shared another kiss.

Yakko knew it was corny to think, but it truly felt just like fireworks in his chest.

He liked Max- Max liked him. A part of himself was realized- and he felt alive. A good kind of alive- not the kind of alive that came from life or death situations.

"So... I guess that makes us even," Max joked. Yakko laughed.

"I guess so," He couldn't get himself to stop smiling- neither could Max. They looked at each other before bursting into laughter again.

"Man, we really should return to the party," Max said.

"Yeah, you're right," Yakko's face was starting to hurt from the smiling.

"Do- uh... do you think your parents will be cool... orrrr...?" Max asked.

"Psh, I'm sure they'll be fine," He said without hesitation.

"Cool," Max said, opening the door out of the balcony.

Yakko looked at him for a moment, trying to absorb the moment as best he could.

"You okay?" Max asked.

"Yep," Yakko said, taking a deep breath as he implanted it in his memory in his brain forever.

"C'mon, let's go before they think we've done something stupid," Yakko said, quickly joining Max and grabbing his hand before running back to join his family.

however, right before entering the party room once more, Yakko paused.

"Does this mean our friendship is basically ruined?" He asked.

Max thought about it.

"I wouldn't think of it as a ruining per se... maybe think of it as an upgrade of sorts," Max winked.

God, he was so much cooler.

"Cool," Yakko grinned, squeezing Max's hand.

"Well... uh- shall we?" Max let go and offered Yakko his arm.

Yakko thought about it.

Taking it would mean no taking it back- it would mean the whole party would basically know that they kissed (holy shit- they kissed! that was a thing that happened!). His parents, his siblings, practically the whole kingdom, and their allies.

Yakko couldn't imagine any other way to walk back in.

He took his arm.

"We shall."

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 The End

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starkerforlife6969 · 3 years

Text

Starker - Morgan’s best friend Peter

I’ve seen these incredible posts going around by @fearlesstarker : so I just had to write a little something. Fluff ahead, kids.

Morgan tries to take a moment to really think about it.

She sits back and straightens her spine; the way she does in class when she’s about to prove that everyone in the room- including her professor- is a moron. She cocks her head, examines Peter Parker opposite her, and thinks about it. Truly thinks about it.

“Yes,” she concludes after a moment, all the data filing away neatly, everything coming up a match.

Peter looks up at her, eyes rimmed-red with tears, hair a brown, scraggly mess atop his head. “What do you mean?” He sniffles, still in his pyjamas, still smelling like cologne too expensive to be his.

“You and my dad.” She says, nodding, “Yes.” She gets up and heads to the kitchen. She has a studio-apartment, of course. Her dad would settle for nothing less.

Peter follows at her heels: radiating anxiety. “Morgan, I-”

“It’s fine, Peter. Do you want some tea?” Never espresso’s for Peter, he has enough energy as it is. She pulls down two white ceramic mugs.

“Morgan.” He says again, voice firmer this time. Deeper. She still remembers hearing it break when they were both thirteen, curled up together in a tent on the school’s camping trip.

They’d been shit at building their tent. It had collapsed in the middle of the night and they’d lain there, under stars, sharing secrets. His voice had cracked for the very first time, and she was the first person to know, and she’d held his hand and-

“Morgan.”

The mugs are shaking in her hands.

“Morgan, look at me.”

His hands then, on her shoulders, turning her round, and she’s being hugged by her best friend. By her brother. By Peter B Parker.

He’s taller than her- but only in the physical sense, and she buries her face in his chest and tears come and he holds her so tight- like he doesn’t remember how strong he is. Like he thinks he’s still that scrawny thirteen year old who needed Morgan to protect him from bullies. But he isn’t. Not really.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers into her hair, then thinks better of it. He pulls away and looks into her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Morgan. I’m sorry I slept with your dad. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to. I’m sorry for keeping this a secret. I’m so, so sorry.”

She wants to tell him it’s okay, but she’s crying too hard.

“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.” He vows, his voice breaking, “it was a one-time thing. I won’t- I won’t pursue it. Not if you’re not okay with it. I’m sure- I- I know your dad feels the same way.”

“It’s just so…”

“I know.” Peter cuts her off, pained, “I know how it looks. But I promise- it isn’t like that. We connected last summer, remember? When he helped me fix up my car? And-and it was like we were seeing each other for the first time. He’s a good man, your dad, I swear, Morgs, and-and-please, please don’t hate me-”

“God, Peter.” She laughs, watery and honest, “I’m not upset because of any of that! “ She smacks his shoulder. “How can you know me so well and be so blind? I’m scared I’ll lose you. You’re mine, Peter Parker, d’you hear me?”

His face breaks into the most glorious smile, and she knows she loves him the way she loved him when they were thirteen. When she understood family was so much more than blood. “All yours.” He promises. “That will never change.”

She believes him. She sighs, and wipes her cheeks, and nods, pulling herself together. “Well alright then,” she breathes, “but don’t think for one second I’m calling you dad.”

His laughter sounds like music.

***

Evidently, she’s not the only one who thinks so.

Because a month later, she’s sitting at the dining table, and her dad’s setting down something that looks dangerously like home-made spaghetti, and there are candles on the table, and it’s subtle- but she can see it.

Her dad’s sweating.

“Looks good.” She says, even though it doesn’t, trying to calm him down.

Tony gives her a knowing look. She grins at him.

“Don’t sass me, baby Stark. I spent all day on this and in spite of DUM-E’s best efforts, there weren’t even any fires.”

“Not any?” She arches her eyebrow.

Tony winces.

Peter...laughs.

Morgan watches how her dad lights up at the sound. How he brandishes his serving spoon at Peter warningly, and their eyes meet, and there’s a moment- something soft- and raw- just like the meatballs.

“I’ll get us take-out,” Morgan says gently, and she’s worried for a second, that they don’t hear her. That this is how it’ll be from now on- she used to be both of their number ones, and now she’s both of their number two’s.

She orders from the Chinese place across the road- the one that knows them, and the three of them sit in front of the TV and settle in for a movie.

Peter dishes out, and he serves Morgan first. All the spring-rolls and the crispiest noodles.

Something small- bright and lovely- burns within her as she takes her plate.

And when, during the film, she and Peter begin to doze off- it’s her who gets the blanket first. Draped lovingly over her by her dad. It’s her head he kisses before he tends to Peter and she knows- she hasn’t lost anything.

She has only gained.

The Press-

Don’t care. It’s weird. Morgan keeps waiting for the backlash. In fact, all of Tony’s team seem to be waiting, but it never comes. It seems that most people expect handsome billionaires to have boyfriends half their age.

“Huh,” Peter says, in a new, custom-made suit that compliments his skin-tone, “I guess that means you’re old news, Tony Stark,” and he kisses the edge of Tony’s mouth. Morgan pretends not to watch.

Her dad turns to Peter, grinning, mischievous, young in a way he hasn’t seemed in a while. “Don’t worry. I can do something about that.”

Proposing to Peter on the red carpet for GLAMOUR’s man of the year award does spark the headlines.

“Really, dad?” Morgan laughs, phone nestled into the crook of her neck because she can’t find her airpods.

“What can I say? I have a flair for the dramatic.”

“More like a flair for the idiotic.” Comes another voice, a little muffled, and Morgan smiles.

“Is that Peter? Tell him I say hi.”

“Morgan says hi.”

“Oh! Say hey back.”

“Peter says hey.”

“Is he coming up for the LA workshop?”

“Are you coming up for the- hey, you know what, you talk to each other.”

“So grouchy in the morning.” Peter teases, and there’s the sound of kissing, and Morgan faux-retches.

When she thought about it, way at the start, she did the pros and the cons. Their obvious compatibility, mutual interests, and potential were some of the heaviest pros.

There were cons, too.

When she makes the drive up, through snow and sleet, back to Stark Tower. Back into New York. In the middle of her academic year even though her dad told her it was fine (and she knew it wasn’t fine) she sees him sitting in his lab, buried deep in work.

“Dad.” She says quietly, ruffling his hair.

“Sweetheart,” he says gruffly, voice rough from dis-use. “I told you, you didn’t have to come. Tell me you didn’t drive in this weather. I would have had Happy-”

“Dad.” She says again, because she’s learnt from watching Peter how to deal with people who are just a little too clever and a little too impatient. Who does he think she gets it from?

She rests her head on his shoulder and Tony sets down his instruments, but Morgan’s already seen the way his hands were shaking.

“You guys will be okay.” She promises, because she’s a genius but also because there are some things you just know for sure. Without a doubt.

She finds Peter at a bar outside of Cal-Tech.

He’s nursing an orange juice, but he smells like whiskey.

He cringes when he sees her. “Morgan, I know this must be so awkward-”

“A whiskey neat.” She tells the bar-tender, who squints at her like he’s trying to figure out her age, before recognizing her and stumbling in his haste to obey. “Nothing to be awkward about.” She says. “I’m not on anyone’s side. I love you both. Let’s just drink and maybe do some karaoke.”

Peter peers at her, as if trying to gauge her sincerity, and he slides back onto the barstool. “Okay,” he says eventually, “but only if it’s High School Musical. And only if I get to be Troy.”

“You can be Ryan.”

“If you’re Chad.”

They grin at each other.

Everything’s going to be okay.

Morgan’s the one in a white dress at the wedding and that feels...right, somehow. Weird. But right.

Her dad’s in some designer ocean-blue suit. It looks effortless on him. Peter’s in a deep burgundy, a bordeaux, and he cups Tony’s jaw in his hand and whispers something that makes Tony’s entire body ease. Tensionless. Free from burden.

Morgan hasn’t seen that very often.

There’s crying (theirs, Morgan will insist to the tabloids, and not hers at all) and there are doves, and the beach, and food, and dancing and golden rings on fingers.

A little after midnight, she’s about to head back to the hotel when she sees them. Two lone figures under the stars.

“How was that?” Tony whispers, arm around Peter’s waist, voice soft as waves.

“Pretty good for a first wedding.” Peter teases, kissing the underside of Tony’s jaw. “It was perfect, Tony. But everything’s perfect with you.”

“I’m not perfect,” he whispers.

“No.” Peter agrees, smiling, and he wraps his arms around Tony’s neck. “We are imperfectly perfect together. I love you.”

Tony kisses him like he can’t help himself, before he pulls back and traces Peter’s eyelashes. “I love you.”

Then, both of them, together: “We love you too, Morgan.”

She gasps, and darts back into the shadows- all fruitless, of course. They’ve seen her. They will always see her.

But then the taxi comes and she sees her own face in the rear-view mirror.

She’s smiling. Just as hard as they are.

#fluff #starker #Peter and Morgan are best friends #Morgan stark #Tony stark #Peter parker #college student peter #college student morgan #marriage

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mercy-burning · 3 years

Text

Something Different

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader and Spencer go on their first date. PART 1 / PART 2 / PART 3 / PART 4 / EPILOGUE Category: Fluff, Smut 18+ (oral sex- female receiving, penetrative sex, unprotected sex- creampie) Warnings: Sex, language (As always, if there’s anything I missed, let me know what I should include in warnings! I want to be as mindful as I can about what I post. Thank you!) Word Count: 5.9k

NOTE: This was my favorite part to write so far! I hope you all love it as much as I do! I have a little epilogue planned next, and I’m not sure when it’ll be up, but I’ve really loved seeing how much you enjoyed this series! Thank you for reading! 🥰

***

Y/N had never felt as much like a teenage girl as she did that Friday night. She stood in front of her floor-length mirror, smoothing out her dress and contemplating whether or not she should change. For the seventh time. And she'd been on dates before, but this time was different. Usually she barely knew the guys she'd gone on first dates with, but she'd already slept with this guy. On more than one occasion. And every time she did, she felt herself fall deeper and deeper under his spell. She wasn't sure if he knew the full effect of what he was doing to her, always taking up space in every crack and crevice of her thoughts until she felt like she couldn't breathe.

And that was what made this date different from all the rest. She knew Spencer. She liked Spencer. And she was almost positive that after this date she would be, at the very least, a little bit in love with Spencer.

At that thought, Y/N felt her heart swell in her chest, suddenly invested in the act of making him feel the same way, if he wasn't already.

So she reverted back to her original outfit choice, something she at first thought was too sexy for a first date, but ultimately was the boldest and best option. It was satin and deep violet in color, the fabric clinging to her body in every best way possible. It landed mid-thigh and the neckline was low enough to show just the right amount of cleavage without it being too overwhelming. Her father would have told her it looked more like a dish towel than a dress, and that fact alone was enough to convince Y/N that it was just perfect. It did have thin straps though, and it was freezing as hell at night, so she added a black cardigan that added just the right amount of elegance and warmth to the look.

She paired the whole look together with black pumps and threw her hair up in a loose clip, made for easy taking-down if the night ended as well as she hoped.

Just as she was applying the last of her makeup—simple black eyeliner and mascara, complimented with tinted cherry lip balm rather than lipstick—there was a knock on the door.

"Just a second!" she called out, rushing to spritz on some vanilla perfume and give herself a final onceover in the mirror. With a final deep breath, she switched off the lights and made her way to the door, silently praying that she wouldn't fall on her face.

"Hey, pretty gi— oh..."

The second she saw Spencer in the doorway, Y/N felt her insides swarm with butterflies. The way he took her in, completely captured by her presence as his eyes couldn't decide where to linger longest utterly wrecked her.

And he looked... God, if he wasn't the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. And of course she'd seen him in some rather beautiful positions prior to right then, but his hungry eyes, practically claiming her as his own as they raked her figure accompanied by the outfit he wore and the way his hair perfectly framed his face in soft waves... It felt like she was bathing in sunlight.

He wore a white undershirt and navy suit jacket, the tie the same color only accented with red stripes, and black dress pants. If she had to describe it, she would have said he looked like he came right of the page of a magazine, and even that wasn't generous enough. She knew she should say something to break the silence that had fallen between them, but she couldn't even remember her own name.

Thankfully Spencer seemed to get a hold of himself before she did, saying, "You look... amazing. A-and that's not even the right word, I... Wow."

Y/N felt her cheeks grow hot, playing with the hem of her cardigan. "Thanks, you... You look great, too. Um, let me go grab my purse, I'll be right back."

"Wait, before you do..."

She hadn't even noticed his hand was behind his back until he brought it out, bringing with it a small gathering of flowers. Lavenders. "You brought me lavenders?" she inquired, taking them with a smile. "They're beautiful. Thank you."

Spencer seemed to rock on his feet nervously. "They're generally known for their relaxation properties, and, you know, I figured since we always seem to end up talking about de-stressing, they seemed fitting."

Y/N laughed, her face growing warmer. "That's perfect, I love them. I'm gonna go find a vase for these real quick."

As she rummaged through her cabinets for something even remotely resembling a vase, she settled on a tall mason jar she had in the back, filling it with water and placing the flowers inside, letting it perch on the kitchen counter. When she turned around she found that Spencer had made his way inside, the door closed behind him. "Unfortunately they won't last very long without soil, water, and sunlight, but if they dry up you could always use them for decorations. I noticed you have lots of dried plants in your apartment."

With a smile, she grabbed her purse off the coat rack in the living room. "Oh. Yeah, I guess I do. I've always loved pressing flowers and stuff. My mom and I used to do it all the time when I was younger, and I guess it stuck."

"That's really nice. It's definitely better than the clutter of my apartment," he says with a laugh as they both make their way to the door.

"Oh, I don't know. I like your clutter, it's rather charming."

He laughed as he opened the door and stepped aside so she could walk through. "You've only been to my apartment once, and we were a bit... occupied for you to notice, so how would you know?"

They paused in the hallway as she closed the door and looked up at him, a knowing smirk playing at his lips. She grabbed the end of his tie and tugged it a little, turning it over in her fingers as she stared at him. "Trust me, Spencer, it's hard to believe that anything about you isn't charming."

It was his turn to blush, his smirk transforming into a shy smile. She let go of his tie and grabbed his hand, lacing their fingers together before leading him down the hallway.

***

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were surprised," Y/N said once the waiter left to grab their drinks.

"Oh, I-I guess I just... I don't know why, it's just that I didn't... expect you to be a white wine person, that's all."

"You can tell what kind of wine I like?" she laughed.

Spencer returned it, brushing some of the hair from his face. "Well, I guess not, since I pegged you wrong..."

She shrugged. "You don't have to be embarrassed about that, I wouldn't expect you to have known."

"Oh, I'm not embarrassed, it's just that usually I'm better at reading people, that's all."

"Is that right?" Y/N mused, leaning forward a little. She smiled at him. "How come?"

Spencer swallowed before answering. "Well, my job... I work for the Behavioral Analysis Unit of the FBI, so my team and I study human behavior to catch killers."

Holy shit, that's so hot, she thought, silently hoping she didn't say that out loud. "Wow, so... you're a total badass, then. I gotta say, G-man, that's impressive."

He blushed under the dim light of the restaurant lights. He'd picked out this nice Italian place not too far from their apartment. Y/N had always wanted to go because she loved Italian food, but it was always too expensive and she never really had the time. When Spencer had suggested it, she practically begged him not to, insisting that she didn't want to make him spend so much money on her. In turn he told her, "I don't mind, you're worth spending a little money on," and that was that. Still she felt a little guilty, but he didn't seem to mind one bit. Not to mention the place was absolutely beautiful, easily one of the nicest places she'd ever been to. So if he was willing to do all this just to spend some time with her, then Y/N figured it was a good sign.

"What about you, what exactly is it that you do?"

Y/N shrugged a little. "Oh, well it's no fancy badass government job, but I work at a music store downtown. I just got promoted, so I'm an associate manager."

"Oh, that's great! What kind of music do you like?"

The way he genuinely looked so interested in what she had to say made her heart swell. She cleared her throat before answering. "My parents raised me on Classic Rock, so my brain is pretty much just made up of Queen lyrics, but... I listen to a little of everything. There isn't much I don't like, really, save for maybe hardcore metal. Though, some of it I've heard is okay."

Spencer laughed a little. "That's nice. I don't really listen to a variety of things, mostly classical, but... I don't know, maybe you could... introduce me to some of your favorites? Broaden my horizons?"

He almost sounded shy asking, but that only made the sentiment more endearing. Y/N smiled so hard her cheeks hurt. "Anytime, G-man."

The waiter came back with the wine then, and they got to ordering. Y/N ordered a lemon chicken piccata while Spencer settled on pasta alla norma. Of course they had a side of breadsticks and they each got a small tomato soup to sip on while they waited.

They continued to chat about their favorite things, anywhere from as general as their favorite books and movies to as random as their favorite flowers and candle scents. It was nice getting to know these tiny details. And normally this type of small talk was awkwardly necessary and devastatingly tedious, but with Spencer it felt effortless. She liked telling him about her favorite things, no matter how small they were, and just the same she liked listening to him. The way he spoke, his eyes lighting up as he talked about what made him happy made Y/N warm, feeling once again that night like she was bathing in sunlight.

That's what he was. The human embodiment of pure sunlight.

As they ate they talked a little bit about their childhoods. Spencer mentioned how it was mostly just him and his mother, and he almost seemed a little sad when he talked about it. She wanted to let him keep going, but at some point she realized that he was getting a little emotional and uncomfortable, so she made a point to respectfully change the subject, in turn telling some embarrassing childhood stories of her own. For one thing, she loved telling anyone about how she angrily chucked a remote at her brother when they were kids and gave him a permanent scar on his forehead, but ultimately she loved seeing Spencer smile, and she knew that the story would do the trick. It always did.

"Why did you do it?" he laughed after swallowing a bite of his food.

Y/N shrugged with a smile. "He was bugging me about wanting to watch something else, and it just annoyed me so badly that I decided I had enough. I should have been sorry, too, especially after being yelled at, but I really thought he deserved it. And now when people ask why he has this big-ass scar on his forehead, he has to tell them that his big sister chucked a remote at his head. It embarrasses him and it amuses me, so..."

Spencer laughed a little harder, setting his fork down and folding his hands together. "Sounds... like an interesting childhood."

"Yeah, that's putting it mildly. My brother and I did a lot of roughhousing, which would make more sense if he was the older one, but what are you gonna do?"

"So... What, you put him in headlocks and pinned him to the ground like a wrestler all the time?" he asked with an amused laugh.

"Yeah, something like that," she laughed right back.

"Well, I hope he hasn't sustained too much injury permanently over the years... Maybe one day I can ask him about it."

The thought of Spencer meeting her family gave her more butterflies, and it became evident that he was feeling the same way, because he blushed almost immediately after he said it.

"You two would probably get along really well, actually. He loves true crime and stuff, so I'm sure he'd love to talk to you about your job if that's not too forward. Plus, he reads more than I do, so I'm sure you'd find something else in common there."

"Yeah, that sounds great. I like him already."

She smiled, her heart still beating exponentially fast. A small part of her wondered if maybe talk of meeting family members was going too far for a first date, and on any other first date it would've been. But Spencer seemed to be genuinely entertaining the idea of meeting and discussing some of his life with her brother, and that was what flipped the switch. She was starting to feel it. She was starting to fall in love with him.

***

When the two of them got in the car, Spencer turned on the radio before they started their journey home— a Classic Rock station. Y/N smiled, immediately recognizing the melody to, coincidentally enough, her favorite Queen song, Who Wants To Live Forever. She told him as much.

He turned the volume up and started driving, listening to her sing along softly. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed him turning his head every once in a while, obviously sneaking a glance at her enjoying her favorite music. The thought sent a bloom of warmth through her chest as the song faded out and started playing Photograph by Def Leppard. Spencer turned the radio down just a little and nodded, turning down the street.

"I like it. I can see why it would be your favorite."

"This is another one of my favorites, too," she replied with a gentle nod towards the radio, giving him a smile. "A lot of these songs probably will be, though, I've practically been spoon-fed Classic Rock radio since I was a baby."

Then she noticed where they were. A street she didn't recognize. "Where are we going?" she asked, looking around.

"Oh. I-I know I only really promised to take you out for dinner, but there's somewhere else I wanted to show you... If that's alright?"

"It's more than alright," she reassured, placing a hand on his arm and wondering where he planned to take her.

He took her hand in his and continued down the road, the radio shuffling through more songs that Y/N recognized and sang along to. At one point she made a point of dramatically serenading Spencer with Love Song by Tesla, air guitar-ing and everything.

Soon enough they were out where she couldn't see any buildings and only a few streetlights. Y/N hummed softly along to the radio, holding Spencer's hand once again as he pulled the car over down a random road and under this large tree. In front of them she could clearly see the sun setting over the skyline, illuminating everything around them in a soft orange glow.

"It's beautiful out here," she mused as Spencer turned off the car, the radio with it.

"Yeah, I, uh... I was in a particularly stressful point in my life a few years ago, and one day I just drove aimlessly. I don't normally drive at all, but I needed something new, something different to do that I could focus on, and I just ended up here. It's one of my favorite places."

She looked over at him and smiled, running her thumb over his hand. "I find that some of the best things in life happen when you try something different."

His eyes softened as she spoke, squeezing her hand and leaning his head against the seat. "You're right. That's... actually how I got you, know know."

She raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Mhm... Yeah, I didn't even want to confront you about hearing what happened that night because I thought it would be too awkward, but... I don't know, I guess there was just something that felt right about the whole thing, like... like it was an opportunity to get to know someone new. And I couldn't stop thinking about knocking on your door and getting to know everything about this woman who likes to invade other people's privacy." He laughed as he said that last part, obviously teasing her about the whole thing, and she laughed with him.

"Well, then I guess that means I don't have to be embarrassed about that anymore," Y/N noted. "I felt absolutely awful about it, you know."

"Oh, I know. You were practically the color of a tomato when I gave you that Advil."

They laughed together as the sun sunk lower in the sky, and as the air between them grew silent, they just stared at each other, smiling. Even as the sun was leaving, Y/N could still feel its warmth radiating in the form of Spencer's presence.

***

They walked up to her door hand in hand, laughing about a joke she'd told him when Y/N realized the night was potentially over. The thought silenced her laughter, and suddenly she was nervous, like she hadn't already considered that the night would eventually have to end somewhere.

"I... I had a really great time tonight, Spencer, thank you. "

He smiled shyly in that way of his that made her just as shy. It was sickeningly cliché, she thought, feeling this way about a man she'd only just started to get to know, but she welcomed those feelings nonetheless. He was so obviously infatuated with her in a way she hadn't felt before, and it made her nervous because she didn't know how to react. All she could do was welcome and embrace his adoring glares and little touches and compliments, and hope that he knew in turn just how much she appreciated and adored him all the same.

His free hand reached out and cupped her cheek, to which she happily leaned into. "I did, too," he said softly, barely above a whisper. "We should do it again some time."

She smiled against his hand, and she didn't realize it then, but they were closer than they had been all night, toe to toe. "We should."

The world stopped for all of two seconds before he leaned down to kiss her. But something embarrassingly stopped her from letting it happen, pulling her face away just a little. "Wait. My breath probably smells like breadsticks."

Hardly the most romantic thing to say, and she regretted it the second it left her mouth.

Spencer only shrugged, smiling amusedly. "Who doesn't like breadsticks?"

That made her laugh. Hard. And she was still laughing as she pulled him closer and kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck.

When he kissed her back, it was head-dizzyingly sweet, his hands softly brushing over her cheeks as she melted into him. Every time his lips parted, he came back stronger, pressing his lips and tongue to hers with slow, methodical precision.

She could have died right there.

But eventually they pulled apart, and she looked up at him with as much gratefulness as she could provide. "Look, I... I know it's not typically customary to sleep over on the first date, but... What about trying something different?"

Spencer grinned at her, rubbing his thumb over her bottom lip. "Lead the way, pretty girl."

She couldn't hide her blush as she reached over and opened the door, pulling him into the apartment with her.

The door closed behind him, and Spencer kissed her again, this time using one of his hands to press her to him, resting promptly on her lower back. Their kisses were just as slow and sweet as they had been in the hall, though there was a slightest shift in the atmosphere, bringing forth a newfound passion behind each of their movements.

His tongue traced over her bottom lip before he took it between his teeth and tilted his head to the other side, pulling her even closer to him than she thought could be possible. They both stumbled around the living room as they kicked off their shoes. Y/N got significantly shorter after removing her heels, so Spencer bent down and lifted her off the ground, setting her on the back of the couch. Her dress had ridden up to the tops of her thighs so she could wrap her legs around his waist. She slid her cardigan off at the same time he slid off his jacket, their lips still adjoined. Once they were removed, Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck again, and he brought his arms under her ass as he lifted her off the couch

She expected the journey to her bedroom to be rocky, stumbling into furniture and walls and tripping, but was glad to be proven wrong when suddenly she was swiftly seated on her bed, Spencer standing between her legs.

He pulled away from her for all of two seconds before kneeling and pressing kisses to the insides of her right leg, starting at her ankle and trailing all the way up past her knee and eventually to her thigh. His hands reached up to grip the bed as he looked up at her and pressed kisses to her other thigh. Hoping to give him more access, she used her hands to pull her dress up even higher, scooting out from under her butt and bunching up at her hips as she spread her legs a little wider.

He smiled against her inner thigh, running one of his hands over the other. "Patience, pretty girl. I want to take my time with you tonight."

The way he said it made her shiver, and her head leaned back as she leaned back on her hands, feeling Spencer continue his exploration. His mouth travelled from thigh to thigh, doing just about everything he could think of—kissing, licking, biting... One of her hands found themselves in his hair as she sighed out, "Please, Spencer..."

For a moment she thought he wouldn't give it to her, if only because she wasn't specific enough and that had become part of their sexual routine, but this time he granted her what she wanted, one of his hands reaching up and ghosting along her clit through the fabric of her panties.

She instinctually rutted her hips forward at the contact, which made him laugh softly, and before too long, he hooked his finger in the waistband of her underwear, sliding up her dress just a little so he could reach. She lifted herself off the bed so he could bring them out from under her, and he slowly, very slowly, slid them down her legs. His lips travelled up her leg again, taking the same care and curiosity as he had before, each second burning impatiently through Y/N's body as she took it all in.

Right as his nose brushed over her clit, he pulled away, leaving her cold and desperate. She opened her eyes and looked down at him, running a hand through his hair and silently pleading to do something.

He smiled and stood up, pressing a kiss to her neck before whispering in her ear, "Will you ride my face for me, baby?"

"Oh, God, yes," she breathed before she could think, and he laughed, his breath sending goosebumps down the right side of her body.

Spencer got up on the bed and leaned back, his head resting on the pillows as Y/N straddled him, hiking her dress up over her hips and stroking the hair from his face before hovering over it. Before she could do anything, his hands wrapped up over her thighs and pulled her down to him, not wasting any time getting to work.

The initial contact jolted her awake, and she cried out, reaching forward and grabbing the top of the headboard as she ground down on him. His tongue plunged deep into her while his nose pressed against her clit, and the more she moved, the more his tongue drew patterns, wanting to taste every inch of her until she was shaking around him. And that's exactly what happened. His tongue came up to flick and swirl over her clit, and right when he wrapped his lips around it and started softly sucking, she cried out. "I'm gonna— ohh..."

He hummed into her, encouraging her to finish, and she did, clenching her thighs around his head as he shook it back and forth, lapping up every last drop of her arousal until her thighs lost their grip. She lifted up off of him, but he brought her back down to run his tongue through her pussy a few more long, meaningful times. He finally let go of her legs, and she kneeled beside him, catching her breath.

Looking down at him she noticed how wonderstruck he was, running his tongue along his lips to still taste her, his eyes searching hers hungrily before she leaned down and kissed him. The taste of herself on his mouth made her groan, and he reached up to pull the clip from her hair. It tumbled down in a curtain around them before he tossed the clip aside and ran his hands through it, gathering it all to one side and pulling her closer to him.

As he kissed her, she brought her hand to his chest, working at his tie and struggling to get it off. He laughed against her mouth and sat up to do it for her, breaking their kiss apart. Has he undid the tie and the first few buttons of his shirt, Y/N reached back to grab the zipper of her dress, but Spencer stopped her.

"Wait. Can I?"

She nodded, turning around.

"Stand up for me," he told her.

Y/N got off the bed and felt Spencer behind her, his hands brushing her hair out of the way and slowly zipping her dress down, pressing kisses down each inch of skin that exposed in its wake, all the way to her lower back. His hands slid up her back and pushed the straps off her shoulders, then tugged the dress down to watch it fall on the floor, leaving her completely bare.

He kissed her neck and ran his hands up and down her body, eventually reaching around to cup her breasts. She sighed at his touch, leaning back against him as he rolled her nipples in between his fingers. Her hands reached back to wrap around his back and pull him flush against her, the unmistakable feeling of his hardening dick through his pants pressing against her bare ass.

"I love how soft your skin is, pretty girl," he murmured into her neck, sliding his lips down to her shoulder and biting down. She sucked in a breath, her hands removing themselves from his back and placing themselves over his own, feeling the veins strain as they kneaded her breasts. His tongue traced over where he bit down before he kissed the same spot, then he worked his mouth back up her neck and reached her jawline. She turned her head, meeting his lips and pressing herself further into him, whining at every single sensation coursing through her veins.

Eventually she'd had enough and turned fully around, breaking apart from him just to come back. She faced him and wrapped her arms around his neck once more. He leaned in to kiss her again, but she stopped him, pulling her head back and using one of her hands to grip the hair at the nape of his neck. "Tonight's your lucky night, you know..."

At her teasing tone, Spencer laughed, his eyes searching hers before giving in. "Why's that?"

She used the hand that wasn't in his hair to slide over his shoulder and down his chest, drawing patterns across the bare skin he'd left exposed after undoing the first few buttons of his shirt. Then she smiled, bringing herself closer and gripping the collar. "Because I'm on birth control now..." She leaned forward and lightly brushed her lips against his, feeling them just barely as she whispered, recalling what he'd told her a few weeks ago. "You still wanna fill up this slutty little pussy? Make me yours?"

He didn't give a second thought. Before she was aware of what was happening, Spencer had his lips crashed against hers and his arms wrapped around her back, pulling her forward so that the tent in his pants pressed right up into her bare crotch. She gasped against his mouth and reached down to take the rest of his shirt all the way off, and he let her.

Her hands fumbled with the buttons, severely close to just giving up and ripping the shirt apart but she got there in the end, sliding the fabric off his shoulders and tossing it God-knows-where as his tongue slipped into her mouth. She trailed her hands softly down his chest and stomach, making him shiver, and she relished in the feeling of his lean figure tensing under her touch. She scratched her nails along the lower part of his stomach before touching his belt, and then he stopped her, grabbing her wrists.

"Sit on the edge of the bed," he commanded softly against her lips.

Y/N pulled away reluctantly, immediately missing his bodily warmth before doing as she was told and perching herself patiently at the edge of the bed.

Spencer got off his knees, climbed out of bed, and stood on the floor, coming over to her and placing himself between her legs once more. Only this time, he towered over her rather than kneeled. His hands unbuckled his belt while his eyes bore into hers, the anticipation of what was to come as high strung as it had ever been.

He pulled his pants and underwear down in one swift motion, and right a he kicked them to the side, Y/N reached out, grabbing his hips and pulling him closer. One of his hands gripped his hard cock while the other found purchase in her hair, brushing it behind her shoulders and resting at the base of her neck as he leaned down and pushed her back onto the bed. She scooted back just far enough for Spencer to kneel on the edge of the bed, her legs instinctually wrapping around his waist once more as he kissed her.

Her hands brushed the hair from his face and stayed weaved there, whimpering with anticipation as he ran the tip of his cock along her pussy, just as slowly as he'd done everything else so far. He broke their kiss apart and pushed the tip in, not going any farther than that. "I told you, pretty girl, I'm taking my time with you tonight. I want this to last."

As his forehead rested against hers, she barely caught a glimpse of his eyes before he pushed all the way in and squeezed his eyes shut. Y/N sighed and massaged his scalp, completely aware of every inch of him as he held himself inside her. He pressed just about the sweetest kiss to her lips before setting a slow pace that gradually became faster with every passing minute. She was still a little sensitive from when he'd eaten her out, but that only added to the feeling.

"Fuck, you're perfect," Spencer breathed, pulling his head just far enough away from her so he could look her in the eyes. "You're so goddamn perfect, Y/N..."

She slid her hands down his back as he picked up his pace inside her, gasping when he hit her g-spot. "Speak for yourself," she breathed.

When she started to feel herself getting closer, Spencer seemed to notice, because he slowed his pace again and ran sloppy, passionate kisses along her jaw and neck, and she reveled in the feeling. He was all around her, consuming every fiber of her being, and she could bask in it forever if he'd let her.

"Spencer," she breathed, her hands reaching down to grip his ass as he hit inside her deeper. "Fuck... You're so good to me..."

In turn he cradled her face and kissed her deeply, moving his tongue against hers in tandem with his hips' ministrations. Her fingernails bore deeper into his skin, and it wasn't long before she started to feel an orgasm surfacing. He rested his forehead against hers again, biting her bottom lip softly as he pulled away to speak. "Almost there, pretty girl. "

Y/N removed her hands from him and brought them up to bring her face to hers again, sighing into his mouth when they reconnected. And then he grabbed her wrists softly, pinning them above her head and sliding his hands up her forearms until his fingers laced together with hers, squeezing and pushing them both closer to the edge.

"Cum for me, baby," he mumbled against her lips, and within a matter of seconds, she did. Her legs tightened around him and her ankles hooked round his waist, just above the top of his ass to keep him tightly inside her while he found his own release. "Fuck," he sighed, giving three more hard thrusts forward. He held himself inside her while he came, the warmth spreading through her being just about the best thing she'd ever felt. It was the cherry on top, the last puzzle piece falling into place, and she kissed him once more while he finished, feeling him groan in her mouth.

The two of them stayed like that, their hands still laced together and legs still tangled, and even when their lips pulled apart, their foreheads rested together while their breathing slowed.

"Have I already told you how perfect you are?" Spencer breathed, nuzzling his nose against hers.

Y/N laughed a little, nuzzling him right back. "You may have mentioned it."

"Well, it's true. Everything about you is just so..."

"Perfect?" she offered.

He laughed, kissing her once more on the lips before slowly pulling out of her and unlacing their fingers. "Yes. Perfect... But as much as I love laying here with you, UTIs are not perfect, so I'm gonna get you cleaned up. Come on."

She sat up with a grunt, not wanting to get up so soon but she knew he was right. So she let him lead her to the bathroom as quickly as they can, his cum slowly sliding down her thighs when they got there. Spencer turned on the light and closed the bathroom door, a small smile on his face as he got on his knees to help.

"I can grab some toilet pa— holy shit..." Y/N was cut off when he dragged his tongue up the inside of her leg, scooping up his mess and making his way to her pussy where he cleaned out the rest of it. She was still sensitive, so he went as gently as he could, making soft, gentle swipes of his tongue until it was mostly gone, at least not dripping down her legs anymore.

When he stood up to meet her face, she felt stunned, absolutely enraptured by everything about the man in front of her. "So, does that mean I'm officially yours now?" she asked with small laugh.

He gave her that bashful smile again, and it made her feel even better, basking in the familiarity of his boldness of sexual acts followed by instant shy demeanor. "Only if you'll have me."

Y/N grabbed his face and kissed him before looking him dead in the eye and saying, "I hope I'll always have you, G-man."

#spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid

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ghostofbambifanfiction · 3 years

Text

Part 1 of ?????

Started writing this fic a while ago and then lost faith in it. Should I continue? Feel bad for not posting much lately so I thought I'd share this. Read on and weigh in.

COME OUT TONIGHT

You don't have to fucking shout?

Said the pot to the kettle?

Oh you grandmother The caps were an accidental by-product of voice-to-text Blame Siri if you're going to blame anyone

You have a Samsung Galaxy S20.

HAD. It got smashed. Worst luck. Listen, come out with me tonight.

Urghhhhhhhhhhhhhh I'm tired!

https://www.boots.com/wellness/vitaminsandsupplements/vitamins-supplements-shop-by-ingredient/echinacea

Hah (indifferent)

Just come out with me! Isaac has to go see some godawful student performance of the Antigone in wherever the fuck Chichester is and it's Sirius's flatmate's birthday party so I have to go and I don't know any of his weird mates

You don't HAVE to go.

Have to/want to Semantics

I'm not in a birthday party mood. I'm having a stressful week. My arse has been tense since Tuesday.

I will wade into the deep and massage your arse if I have to, just come It's a swank pad in Belgravia! I bet they'll have all sorts of expensive nibbles!

I read that as expensive nipples.

Those too!

Partying it up with the children of wealthy Tories. Sounds super fun.

Just come out with me, for fuck I'll pick you up at 7 and we can steal their silverware if it's boring as the grave

URGH I'll go but I'm NOT dressing up!

You don't have to dress up!

FINE!

take the drawings down please i'm begging you i'm actually begging you

Nah mate

siriusssssssss pleeeeeease

Nah

PLEASE

Nah

PLEASE ffs it's MY birthday!!!! there are going to be PEOPLE there! standing around! AT EYE LEVEL

I don't see what the problem is.

EVERYONE will see what the problem is! they literally will not be able to IGNORE what the problem is!

Sounds like a recipe for lively discussion to me tbh

that is NOT what i want people talking about at my birthday!

If I take them down, I'll have to take all the nails out and that'll leave nail marks all over the walls. It would be unsightly.

MORE UNSIGHTLY THAN YOUR DICK, SIRIUS?

My dick is bewitching.

DIE

She walks in expecting to find herself the infiltrator of a Made in Chelsea/Royal Ascot/Henley Regatta netherworld, filled with a gaggle of giggling, SW-postcode socialites wielding suspiciously powder-edged Harrods Amex cards in the place of horses and boats, but that's not what actually greets her on the other side of the lacquered front door.

What greets her is really quite ordinary.

Aside from the naked drawings of Kingsley's mate, which aren't.

Otherwise, the whole affair is pretty relaxed. People her age are clustered in their small groups, swigging beers. There's a table of oven-heated party foods, salty snacks and rapidly depleting ramekins of guac. She spies more band shirts than there are dress shirts. There's a round of Fortnite in full swing on the TV.

It's all just...startlingly normal. A normal birthday party.

And that's sort of embarrassing, really.

Where are all the visible Tory toffs, she wonders? Where is the braying laughter? The Eton alumni reunion? The glimpse of hunting-happy tweed and shotgun barrels as a coat cupboard door swings shut? Where's the indelible air of sneering superiority, of "we're richer and more privileged and better than you, so fuck the NHS and death to foxes!" that she'd been expecting? There's a fucking Henry Hoover in the corner of the hall, for Christ's sake. Lily came here to smile through her teeth at them all, to listen to the champagne problems privilege that bubbled from their lips and tell herself that she was the one who knew better, who thought better. Her plain white tee and skinny jeans and scuff-toed, high-top trainers were supposed to be a statement, a subtle setting-apart, but she's not even the most underdressed person in the room.

She pre-judged a house full of people. What's that about?

There's a lesson to be found in this. Perhaps.

James covered all of the dicks in Paw Patrol stickers that he bought from the newsagent on his way home from his mum's, but Sirius peeled them all off while he was taking a soothing lavender bath, so what's the bloody point in birthdays anyway?

It's early in the evening, and he's wedged—against his will—between the dining room bar and Shane Ruttle, who has just pointed at one of the many lamentable dicks and asked, "Is this one of yours?" which James kind of wants to thump him for. It's bad enough that he looks like a madman who stuffed his house with naked drawings of his brother, now people are actually assuming that he drew the damn things, even though most of the compositions are appallingly far beneath his skill level. He's a professional illustrator, for the love of god, and Shane is really standing before him like the posturing prick he is, asking him if he's the one who drew Sirius with one arm disproportionately longer than the other.

He knows that he should cheer up.

It is his birthday. There is cake.

Good cake, too, not the kind that gets buried in too-thick fondant that he has to pick off before he can eat what's underneath.

The problem is, there's also a party, and his friends are his friends, Peter and Sirius included, and Peter and Sirius can both get drunk much faster than James can. When Peter and Sirius get drunk, serious injuries tend to follow, Remus tends to fuck off in a flash and James tends to be the one who calls for an ambulance or mothers them back to health—physical, mental or otherwise. He has just turned twenty-six, and these repeated, drunkenly dramatic medical emergency scenes are starting to wear a little thin.

Can't a man get comfortably drunk and have a laugh at his own birthday party?

No, he can't, because Peter's already halfway to trashed, wobbling unsteadily towards the French doors that lead to the terrace, wearing that look on his face that says I'm definitely going to vomit or maybe even shit myself like I did on that one night we all spent in Munich with the Belgian handball team and the creepy tour guide who couldn't keep his sleazy hands to himself. For the sake of sparing the lawn such a punishment, James hastily removes himself from Shane, grabs Peter by the collar, shoves him in the direction of the downstairs loo and retreats to the safety of the living room, where there are, at least, no naked drawings of Sirius gracing the walls.

Most of the people in here are transfixed by Saffy Stephens, who is down to the last three in her Fortnite game and cursing like a sailor, but there are a small pile of birthday cards on the end table where James and Sirius normally keep their keys. He perches on the sofa arm, sets his half-drunk beer bottle on the carpet, pushes his dark, disheveled hair away from his forehead and begins leafing through them. It's a necessity when one lives with Sirius, who thinks nothing of swiping gift cards when the mood strikes him and he's had enough to drink.

They're mostly from his female friends, and all pretty standard, until he reaches the middle of the pile and finds a card bearing a picture of a moustached tabby and the caption: Have a Purr-fect Birthday!

The inscription inside is written in a lovely, swirling hand.

To Jasper/Jack/Jason/maybe Ja Rule?/J-something idk

(see above: everything I've learned about you from the friend* I came here with, verbatim)

(*who can't remember your name)

Happy Birthday! Thank you for (not) specifically inviting me, a stranger, to your party to celebrate this momentous event in your life. Please enjoy this festive card/social nicety/convention from me to you. My friend brought rum which you may prefer.

I'll be around. Not that you'll know.

James lowers the card and twists on the sofa arm at once, eyes darting around the room in search of its author, as if they might be laying in wait to watch him read it and see how he reacts. Nobody appears to have ducked behind the couch, however, so the situation merits further scrutiny.

Obviously, he needs to meet this person.

A mystery! At his birthday party!

He perks right up after that.

She's coming out of the downstairs loo when a short, blonde man in a garish Hawaiian shirt barrels past her and pukes all over the chequerboard tiled floor, narrowly missing her jeans.

"Oh no," he moans into his wet hands. "Oh no—"

"There there, mate," says Lily consolingly, never one to judge somebody for getting drunk early at a party. She pats him on the back before squeezing past him and rejoining Kingsley, who is standing in one of this meandering Georgian house's many hallways, chatting to a bloke in a houndstooth sweater vest and holding two glasses of something very, very sparkly that she must try at once.

"It's like...it's like everything and nothing at the same time," Houndstooth Bloke is saying when Lily draws close, gesturing to a huge canvas painting of a rain-soaked fairground at night.

"Is it?" Kingsley asks.

"Mmm. Very." Houndstooth shakes his shoulders like he's slipping out of a robe. "Meant to be esoteric, I suppose."

That sounds suspiciously like pretentious bullshit to Lily, who doesn't find the concept of a merry looking fairground all that difficult to absorb. Kingsley knows more about the art world than she does, but he must agree with her assessment because he grunts and shoves her glass into her hand when she stops beside him, and more roughly than she deserves, as if she's the one who landed him in this mess of a conversation to begin with.

Trust him to find himself stuck with the only dick (not etched by a 4B Steadtler graphite pencil) in the building, and trust her to be stuck with the person who got himself stuck with King.

"What are we talking about?" she asks brightly, just to fuck with him.

"Drink your champagne, there's a good little hen," King mutters, his teeth clenched together, hallway lights bouncing off the smoothly waxed dome of his bald head.

"We've been discussing this piece." Houndstooth nods to the painting, but his limpid eyes narrow on Lily's face. "Christ, you're very redheaded, aren't you?"

It's decided. She'll wait 'til Houndstooth is drunk and trip him up with Henry Hoover's hose.

"Ergo soulless, yes," she agrees.

"And you...enjoy that?" he asks, as if being redheaded is her profession.

"Very much, thanks."

"Hmmp. Well. I came here with Saffron," he announces, pronouncing it Sef-ron. As if Lily is supposed to know who that is. "Platonically, of course. Actually, we're some sort of cousins, I think. What do you think the artist is trying to convey?"

He's very pointedly asking her, so Lily blinks at the painting, her eyes on the outstretched arm of a child on the carousel.

"I like the pretty colours," she decides aloud.

"Right," says Houndstooth, "but that's not—"

"And the lights, too. The lights are really pretty."

"But—"

"I love funfairs, actually," she brightly continues, finding a strange satisfaction in playing dumb in front of Houndstooth and his overbleached fade. Although she does really like the colours. "Haven't been to one in years!"

"Yes, good, whatever, but what is the artist trying to convey?"

"What artist?" comes a voice from behind them.

Lily glances over her shoulder and finds herself looking up at the man whose penis she's spent the past thirty minutes avoiding eye contact with, though he is taller, better proportioned and infinitely more beautiful than any of those crudely drawn depictions could possibly convey. He is also beplumed and bejewelled like a pirate, wearing a sumptuous velvet jacket over a loose white shirt, numerous rings on his fingers and an assortment of silver chains around his slender neck, while his grey eyes and elegantly high-set cheekbones are framed by a tumble of black hair that genuinely looks like silk.

The man is so beautiful, in fact, that Lily immediately wonders why he's been taking sketches home from the life drawing class that he and Kingsley pose for—hence their acquaintance and Lily's presence at this party—when nothing she's seen tonight has done him any justice.

Most happily, his penis is tucked safely out of sight.

"Alright, Sirius?" says King.

"Alright, Marvel?" Sirius claps a hand to the taller man's massive shoulder. Kingley's muscles bulge in a way that cannot be hidden by modern habiliments. "What are we talking about?"

"Not much." Houndstooth looks put out by the arrival of yet another person. "We were just mesmerised by this piece."

Lily refrains from gesturing to the painting with both hands and a "ta-dah!" choosing instead to sip her champagne.

It's very good champagne. Mmm. Yes.

"Oh, yeah, it's really something," Sirius agrees. He brushes past Kingsley and runs a finger over the illegible squiggle of a signature on the canvas. His nails are beautifully manicured. "Local guy, young up-and-comer. I assume you've heard of Algernon?" he asks Houndstooth, fixing him with a steely-eyed stare.

"Er, yes." Houndstooth's gaze slides from Sirius to the painting. "I know him."

Sirius's eyebrows lift. "Know him personally?"

"Well—"

"That's so weird, I heard he never speaks to people."

Houndstooth chews on the inside of his cheek, weighing up the challenge. "How…funny."

"Funny?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just, I know I've spoken to him before, and since you've bought his painting I assumed that you'd have—"

"That is funny, actually," Sirius interrupts, "because the artist is my brother, and Algernon is the name of his cat."

Kingsley has been tugging on his earring and almost rips it out of his ear as his body convulses, champagne spraying from his nostrils, while an alarming red flush sweeps across Houndstooth's face and he begins to sputter on his own self-importance. Sirius has clearly decided that he's done with all of that noise, however, because he turns back to Lily instead, looking her up and down with great and sudden interest.

"Who's this then?" he asks Kingsley, cocking his head to one side. "James's present?"

The champagne glass swings down and Lily fixes him with a deadpan stare. "Excuse me?"

Sirius slants a grin at Kingsley, a quick flash of teeth. "This one's queenly, isn't she?"

Kingsley wipes his nose with the back of his hand and laughs again. "Hardly."

"This is Primark, mate," Lily retorts, tugging on her t-shirt.

"Queenliness is a state of mind," says Sirius, "not a state of wardrobe."

"You had me marked down as a prostitute not ten seconds ago."

"Oh, that. I was only joking," he sighs, and grips her arm at the elbow, his long fingers cool against her skin. "But still, you're far too attractive to stand here talking to this clown. Come with me and I'll find you someone better."

James's friends are useless.

And drunk. Useless and drunk—or sort of drunk, in Saffy's case. Remus is certainly already pissed, but Remus is on meds so often that he drinks but once in a blue moon. One cocktail is usually enough to set him off, and he's been hard at the gin since he turned up with Peter at six.

"I don't know anyone with those initials," Saffy declares, once she has read, examined and even sniffed the birthday card for clues. "Except for Lisa Edelstein."

"Who's Lisa Edelstein?"

"Cuddy from House," says Remus, lowering the negroni from which he has been drinking deeply.

James pulls a face. "What the fuck is a Cuddy?"

"Oh, actually, it could mean le?" Remus suggests.

"Yes!" Saffy points at him like he might be onto something. "Like the French word for the?"

"Exactly, like—"

"It doesn't mean that!" James interrupts, unwilling to allow such profanity in his home. "That doesn't make sense, why would somebody sign their name as the?"

"Now you're asking me to explain how French people think?" says Saffy derisively, adjusting her bra strap beneath that burnt orange waistcoat she loves, the one that makes her look like she's directing a pornographic movie in the 70s when she pairs it with her tortoiseshell-framed aviators. It clashes wildly with her electric blue buzz-cut. "Am nooooo drunk enough for that."

"They could be one of those one word moniker pop stars, I suppose," Remus pipes up, smiling slyly. "You know, like Madonna?"

They think James doesn't realise that they're taking the piss out of him, but neither of them are sober enough to attempt their gambit with any kind of subtlety or grace.

"You know that's actually her real Christian name?" says Saffy.

Remus turns towards her with interest. "What, Madonna?"

"Yeah!"

"Really?"

"Yeah!" Saffy repeats. "I thought it couldn't possibly be her real name because, I mean, Madonna, yeah? But then I looked it up and apparently that's the name her mummy gave her, just goes to show—"

"I'm sorry," James interrupts, "but is Madonna relevant to this conversation?"

"Yes, always," says Saffy.

"She's an international pop megastar," Remus seconds.

James stares at his friend incredulously. "Drinking really chips away at your wit, y'know?"

"Does it?" Remus grins lazily and jiggles his cocktail in the air. "Oh, well, I'm negronly joking."

Saffy does a spit-take without the spit and clings helplessly to Remus's shoulder as she laughs, knees buckling, bangles tinkling, but James fights his own urge to start snickering.

"It's not that funny," he lies, and Remus eyes him with an alarmingly teacher-like shrewdness, despite the tellingly intoxicated flush that has crept into his thin, freckled face.

James's love of puns is tragically well known.

"You didn't get it." Remus points at his drink. His speech is starting to slur. "This is a negroni, what I said was—"

"Yeah, I got that part, I just—"

"Jesus fuck, look at her!" Saffy suddenly hisses, staggering sideways into Remus and sending him into the wall in a flurry of giggles—Remus giggling?—her voice hushed and urgent. "Who the hell is that?!"

James does look, following the direction of Saffy's gaze. Sirius has just entered the living room, casually clutching the elbow of a……

……goddess.

An actual. Like. Goddess.

A goddess. In James's house. In his living room. In the place where he eats his chocolate boulder cereal and rewatches Scrubs (even season 9, which is hilarious, and very unfairly disparaged by Joe Public) on Saturday mornings.

She's a goddess. A real one, and cleverly disguised as a mortal, sure, with her slouchy white t-shirt and her big hoop earrings and her light blue jeans that are torn at the knees, wearing her shoulder-length red hair half up, half down and slightly messy, but that doesn't hide what she is.

"Oh my god," he murmurs. His heart is pounding all of a sudden, which is so...utterly bloody stupid, but Saffy's right, bloody look at her, Jesus fuck.

"Surely she can't be with Sirius?" Saffy murmurs back.

"No, she—" He watches Sirius lean down to mutter something in the redhead's ear. A ghost of a laugh flits across her beautiful face. "She's not his—he isn't—"

"D'you think—"

"No, I—"

"Good," says Saffy firmly. She lets go of Remus and rises, lengthening her spine. It is a battle stance of some sort, presumably. "Because I saw her first."

"No!" James cries, wounded, and the redhead shoots him a curious look with a pair of eyes that are startlingly emerald green, even from all the bloody way over here. He spins to face Saffy and lowers his voice, face burning. "It's my house!"

"What are you arguing here, ownership rights?"

"No but it—it's my birthday!" James retorts, jabbing at his own chest. "And, actually, and—"

"It's in the bloody post!"

"—you didn't get me a present!" he finishes in triumph, not that he knows what he's arguing for, because the likelihood is that his tongue will glue itself to the roof of his mouth if he even dares to look in her direction one more time. "Plus I set you up with Vanya Petrich, with whom, as I recall, you enjoyed four years—"

"Stop throwing that in my face!"

"—four blissful years—"

"Is it my fault that you've never fancied any girl I've set you up with?!"

"—promised me an Easter ham for setting you up with her and I never got it—"

"So now you'll trade a woman for a ham?" Saffy accuses, though her face is too lit up, her brown eyes too crinkled at the corners—she's having fun with this and she isn't going to fool him and she knows it. "That's so low, even—"

"Don't start with that," James scathingly cuts in. "You offered me Sean Connery's autograph for Bonnie Grogan's number—"

"Which you never gave me!"

"Because you forged the bloody signature!"

"And now she's bloody married!"

"Yeah, well, Isabella wouldn't give me a counterfeit present, would she?" he retorts, and Saffy lets her shoulders drop, smirking. "This is pointless, Saf, we can't—"

"She's just left with Sirius," Remus informs them, and burps.

#Jily #Part 1 #Of 3?#Honestly I just wanted to give you guys a treat

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charlie-pippin-faraday · 3 years

Note

fabina h/cs?

Oh yes I was hoping someone would ask me this. Warning this got very long I have a lot of thoughts and feelings

They are so sweet it makes everyone wanna barf sometimes

In S1 some of them (Mick, Mara, Alfie, Patricia) place bets on when they're gonna get together. Mick wins

During S2 Amber tries to get them together in a multitude of different ways. She tries mistletoe, the old "trapping them in a small dark room together" trick, conspiring with Patricia and Alfie to ensure they just so ~happen~ to find themselves alone together, etc.

Throughout S3, they literally never stopped thinking about each other

After graduation, it's a really turbulent and transitionary period in Fabian's life, and he has to assess what he really wants. And he realizes he never stopped loving Nina, and he wants to be with her again

Amber actively encourages him to go after her, saying he'll regret it for the rest of his life if he doesn't

Nina realizes the past year without him has been miserable. It's been awful not having her best friend by her side to talk to and confide in and do things with, and she's missed him so much. So when he reaches out, all of her feelings come rushing back with an intensity, and she decides she doesn't want to lose him again, and they get back together. For good this time.

They go to college in America together, and Fabian ultimately moves to her hometown of Cleveland to be with her

After college they work at a museum together looking at historical stuff all day long. They get to nerd out and they work together well; it's a dream job

Nina tries her best to introduce Fabian to American culture. Some of it is a bigger culture shock than others. Nina is always incredibly amused when he doesn't get words right or he gets flustered and confused at certain customs

He's not sure how he feels about American fast food

American pie, however, is his new favorite thing. Especially Nina's gran's pies

The Fourth of July scares him. But barbecues are nice

Nina is a fan of Cleveland's baseball team. She takes him to a game, and by god is he confused. He has trouble following. The first game is a lost cause. But once Nina points out how dependent the game is on math, then he starts to get the hang of it. A little bit

American driving, however, is horrifying to Fabian. Nina's a pretty good driver, and Fabian's fairly good (if not a bit stiff and nervous) at driving in the UK, but in America it's a whole different animal. Not only are they on the other side of the road, but the drivers here are fast and aggressive. It's very scary. The ONLY reason he eventually learns to do it the American way is because he wants to be able to take Nina out and be a competent enough man to drive a car around

Speaking of cars: one summer they definitely go on a cross-country road trip, just the two of them. It's meant to bring them closer and be romantic, and it is. They love looking at all the sights together, and Fabian is amazed by the sheer diversity of landscape and how gorgeous parts of the country can be. He TRIES to split the driving 50/50, but America is just so goddam BIG, like intimidatingly huge, and he's not used to driving for that long. The driving ends up being more like 70/30 in Nina's favor, but she doesn't mind. She gives Fabian the responsibility of making a road trip playlist, and he knocks it out of the park

At home, they enjoy cozy nights by the fireside, reading and snuggling under blankets

Sweaters! They are sweater people and I enjoy the image of them snuggling together in sweaters

Handwritten letters! They write each other handwritten letters all the time, especially in the summer between season 1-2 and the period of time between graduation and Fabian making the move to America. They both keep every single letter they receive and each keep them stored in a sentimental little box

They like to frequent old/used bookstores and antique shops. Their place is filled to the brim with odd knickknacks and collectibles that they find, and they have an entire wall with shelves piled high with books

They don't need a lot of fancy stuff, and they don't care about being high-class; they don't care much about appearances, and they don't need a lot. All they care about really is being together.

They learn to get better at communication and not let anyone else's opinion about their relationship impact their relationship. They're the only ones that know what's best for them, and they take things at their own pace

Nina can get overly emotional and stressed sometimes, and Fabian's her rock. That's how it's always been, and that's how it always will be

They love to watch the discovery channel and the national geographic channel, along with netflix documentaries

They fuckin LOVE escape rooms, they use every excuse they can to go to escape rooms

Nina takes Fabian to the rock and roll hall of fame, and he's like a kid in a candy store

They are frequent patrons of their local coffee shop, to the point where all the baristas know who they are

They are very cheesy and sentimental all the time. Most everything they do is very thoughtful and has some kind of meaning

They like to write cute notes to each other and leave them around the house

It takes Fabian forever to actually propose to Nina, to the point where he gets calls from Amber just about every day asking when she's getting an engagement announcement. He just wanted to be careful and deliberate about it and make sure everything was perfect

He makes sure the proposal is simple and romantic. He sets up a candlelit dinner, the lights are low, he talks to her softly and sweetly and tells her he loves her and pops the question

Nina, surprisingly, does not cry. Fabian, however, definitely does when she says yes

He proposes with a family ring; his grandmother's ring. It's very sentimental and has a lot of history behind it, and we all know Nina loves that stuff, and the history and story makes her very emotional

He does what he should have done in S2 instead of writing a poem: he writes her a song and plays it for her on the guitar. It's her favorite thing he's ever done for her.

After the engagement they tell Amber before they tell anyone else, because she'd kill them if they didn't

They surprise her with a video call, and they don't tell her at first, but then Nina surprises her and shows off the ring, and Amber screams so loud they're convinced she's going to break glass.

Amber is even more excited than they are, she talks with them absolutely non-stop about their wedding. She even tries to take control of it at some point

Their wedding is a fairly small wedding; it takes place at an outdoor venue in the spring, at a beautiful location just outside her hometown in America. Mick is the best man and Amber is the maid of honor. Amber gives an incredibly emotional MOH speech and sobs buckets. Gran walks Nina down the aisle

Her wedding dress looks a little something like this; definitely something with long lacy sleeves

They have 3 kids, all girls

The oldest is Evelyn, named after Nina's gran. She's got dark hair, Nina's curls, Nina’s light blue eyes, and she looks like Fabian. She got Nina's courageous leadership side, she's very adventurous

The middle child is Sarah. She looks like someone legit photocopied Nina. Same hair color, same curls, same eyes, same general facial features. She got the intellectual and bookish side of both of them

The youngest is Eloise, kind of a little bit after Sarah's mother but mostly they just liked the name. Often they call her "Lou" and she definitely goes by that when she's older. She somehow got to be strawberry blonde, has less curls than her sisters, she has Fabian's blue-green eyes, and is a mix of them both when it comes to facial features. She got the part of them that liked to sneak around and break the rules; as she gets older she becomes very rebellious, and Nina jokes "are we sure this child came from me and not Patricia?"

All 3 girls are little troublemakers and they're partners in crime

At some points when the girls are a bit much Fabian gets stressed and shouts "we're outnumbered!!!!!"

Amber is their aunt and showers the girls with expensive presents all the time, especially clothes, which all of the girls LOVE. Nina and Fabian accuse her of spoiling them and she says "If I can't spoil them then what's the point of being the rich beloved aunt?"

The girls do indeed love Amber, all three of them adore her

When the girls get older they find the boxes of letters their parents wrote to each other, they think it's very sweet

Even as they get older, the two of them always set aside time to be romantic with each other

And they remain each other's best friend and confidante forever and ever

yo please feel free to keep sending me these! or asking me my opinions on stuff! this is a lot of fun!

#hoa ama #ama #anon #asks #house of anubis #fabina #fabian rutter #nina martin

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imonthinice · 3 years

Text

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 2/?

Word Count: 2k

Author’s Note: Y/N - your name, A/N - any name (your best friend’s name)

Warnings: Swearing, no beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

Welcome Back! I have, once again, written more of Jason Todd because he’s a fucking teddy bear and I love him.

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

Y/N and Jason both returned from that date feeling all giddy about each other, but trying their dammed-est to not let their hopes get too high about the other. However, that was extremely, extremely hard for Jason to do with family like Dick in his life. It’s like coming home to a hopeless romantic of a shipper as a nosey bitch. Lovingly, of course. No one’s like Dick.

“So, Y/N?” Dick asked Jason immediately as he entered the Manor.

“Yeah, what about her?”

“So, many questions: Was that a date? If no, will there be a date? Is there going to be a second date? Do you like her? Do you think we’ll like her? Does she know you’re Bruce Wayne’s son?” Dick rambled at his little brother.

“Okay hold on god damn, yes it was a date, yes there will be a second, yeah I think she’s cool and I like her, slow your roll Circus Boy, I don’t know when she’ll meet you lot, I don’t think she knows who I am, she’s from Metropolis, so I don’t think she knows the Waynes well.” Jason answered Dick with confidence.

“So you like her!” Steph mocked as she entered the hallway, probably heard her brothers talking about Y/N, so she wanted in on it. Somehow she had evaded Jason’s gaze though, so she startled him immensely.

“Jeez, how many of you will scare me today? And yeah, dumbass, I like her. But I’m doing this magical thing called ‘Not getting my god damn hopes up about her since it’s only the first date’ you hopeless romantic fucks.” Jason barked at them.

“Yeah, but you love us.” Dick said.

“That might be true, but your meddling is only going to cause chaos, Dick and Steph.”

“What about my meddling, Jay?” Bruce asked. Once again, he had heard the talking about Jason’s new crush and decided he’d parent the boy on his girl. Jason jumped out of his skin, because, he had once again, not seen Bruce enter the hallway despite his best efforts to not get startled again.

“You, are going to give me a heart attack.”

“Looks like this girl let your guard down.”

“Can we just go on patrol and stop badgering me?” Jason muttered under his breath.

“Nope!” Barbara exclaimed. Clearly, there’s a pattern with Waynes escaping Jason’s attempts to not get startled today, “We’re still going to badger you, Jay,” Barbara finished.

---------------------------------------

When Y/N made her way back to A/N, she couldn’t help but turn her radio as loud as she could and try to take the longer journey back home. Pieces of quiet and tranquility always surprised and drew her in. Like a good book on a Sunday morning before the rest of the bustling city of Gotham or Metropolis awoke itself. If New York never sleeps, she thought, then what the hell do Gotham and Metropolis call themselves. She laughed.

There were a few good things about Gotham, like the people you’d meet on the street at 4am were some of the weirdest but kindest people you’d ever know. It’s like the city radiated off of the energy of the people in it, and in spite of the villains constantly hitting the city with their worst, somehow everyone never let it get to them. It was admirable. Metropolis was the same in that avenue, but it didn’t feel like the cold Gotham streets.

Y/N thought Jason was one of the kinder people she had met in her travels and classes. And she never thought that she’d meet someone she liked this much in her criminal psychology class of all places, but hey, the universe had different pen strokes for her.

She went and parked her car in the driveway of the rental house she and A/N shared. Only the two of them shared it, but if either of them lost their jobs, they’d be looking for another roommate immediately. Pulling out her bag which was full of notes written by Jason, the original notes written by her, and binders upon binders of criminal cases she was looking into at the time, she would get out of her car and begin walking to her door.

Of course, like most people, she would kick off her heels the minute she walked through the doors of the house, to which, A/N paused her music and went to go question Y/N about Jason.

“So, you know how this works, babes, lay it on me, how’s hottie? Is he kind?” A/N pondered.

“He’s so kind, he paid the printing fees for my notes and rewrote all of them, I guess it’s a system for us now. I write the notes in class while he tries to take it all in, we meet up, and he rewrites them all and pays the printing fee.”

“He paid the fee?! At that college?” A/N said, completely shocked.

“Is that shocking?”

“Well, the printing fees are so fucking expensive, hun. Mans must have daddy’s money to do that.”

“Really? Well regardless money doesn’t matter, he’s kind and I can make a name for myself if I graduate at the top of my class.” She said, fully believing this. Smart woman. She knew she could do it.

“I believe in you, do you have homework tonight? I can make dinner for you so you can study.” A/N offered.

“Nah, I’m just going to go file my notes and shower, I’ll come join you and help after.”

“Well, don’t drown.” A/N joked.

“Do you know how much effort that would take?” She laughed as she walked towards her room, once she got there she pulled out her papers and began the slow filing process of them into her desk.

About 2 minutes into this, she got a text:

Hey stranger.

If someone had a heart monitor hooked up to her, they could have bet their last penny on her heart skipping a beat.

Hey Jason. She sent back.

I had a fun time today with you, do you want to do the same thing tomorrow, I could use your fast writing skills to get by in classes. And I just like talking to you. What do you say?

She thought. Maybe something legit is here, hopefully I’m not just used for notes. She worried about that, since she was just a tad insecure about him. He was pretty. She knew she was a looker, sure. But he was something more.

I would love to go on another budget date with you.

Budget? Actually yeah, I guess it is budget lol. Maybe next time I’ll actually take you out to lunch like I said I would.

I, honestly, completely forgot you said you’d take me to lunch, I was just having fun as we were talking.

Me too. You’re a hoot.

A hoot? That’s a book nerd statement if I’ve ever heard one. She joked. She didn’t actually know if he was a book nerd at this time, but they had been joking the entire time when she was filing her notes. She was no where near done filing her notes, Jason was a distraction from that, it wasn’t that important, she would end up finishing it later. She just liked some semblance of organization so she didn’t have to put it off.

I’ll have you know I’ve probably read more books than you.

Well book nerds are cute.

Eventually the messages from Jason and Y/N started slowing, Y/N assumed he was tired or working so she took her chance to file her notes and start running her shower.

Sorry Y/N, this has been fun but I’m going to get really sparse with replies, I got work to do.

That’s fine! Where do you work, by the way?

And she got into the shower. Halfway through her shower her phone pinged, she assumed Jason was texting back, so when she finished her shower, before she even got her towel on, she decided to answer him:

I work at Wayne Enterprises with my dad. It’s quite fun. He had said.

Oh! I’ve heard the owner of Wayne Enterprises is a lovely man, have you met him? She asked him back.

And within an instant, he answered.

He’s my dad, so yeah.

You’re the Jason Todd? Heir to the Wayne Manor and Wayne Enterprises? She started thinking back on what A/N had said. Yep, she thought, Daddy’s money indeed. She started to slip into her pajamas, which were literally a mess and not put together, because this is the real world, not every girl has matching sets, when he answered:

I hope that doesn’t change much, Y/N.

Explains the camera I saw but didn’t mention, and that’s about it.

You saw the cameras? Damn it. I tried to shield you, they may have pictured us together, sorry.

Worth it for a lovely date. I’ve seen worse, my mum works with Clark Kent, who I guess you probably know since he’s Bruce’s best friend, and the paparazzi loves to take Clark’s picture.

Oh yeah, Uncle Clark. Yeah, the pap love him. You get used to it. I guess you somewhat know my family lol.

Nah, that’s about all I know. Wasn’t really interested in drama about you lot because it’s just not my business. Probably not a shared ideal with the general public.

She finished getting dressed and went to go cook with A/N, and share the news.

----------------------------------

“Girl! You were right about daddy’s money oh my god,” Y/N said when she entered the kitchen.

“Go on,” A/N urged.

“You know Jason Todd? Guess what. That’s hottie from Crim Psych 101.”

“Are you serious? That’s insane. You’re probably plastered across the internet right now for that date,” A/N laughed, “are you scared to date a famous man?” She asked.

“No, he’s really sweet and if this gets serious, I can just block out the flashes.”

The two of them laughed and started cooking. A/N was Latina, so, of course, she was in charge to cook most nights. But Y/N made killer desserts and pizza. Tonight was fajitas, so Y/N kind of sat bat and let A/N do her thing. Trying to know more so one day A/N wouldn’t have to do all the work, Y/N went onto the internet and the first thing she saw?

Globally Revered Son of a Millionaire, Jason Todd, out on a DATE with a Mystery Girl?

Like clockwork, Jason answered:

I guess I have a lot to teach you, and I hope you haven’t been on the internet recently.

I have. Globally Revered Son of a Millionaire. She texted back.

Fuck those damn tabloids. He said, she couldn’t help but agree, the paparazzi seem like they’re very invested in stories that aren’t theirs to tell.

Can’t agree with you more. We should put on a show for them tomorrow, actually give them something to write about.

I like your thinking.

You’ve opened up a lot today.

Is it your turn now?

What do you want to know? You asked him before turning to A/N.

“Tabloids talk too much,” you sneered at her.

“Cat should get their tongue and choke on it,” she finished, “did you at least look cute in their pics?” she asked.

“Somehow. Wasn’t even posing,” Y/N finished.

“Well, food’s done, are you still hungry?”

“Always.”

--------------------------------------

Jason turned to his brother, Dick, Nightwing, and said,

“She knows now.”

“That you’re rich?” he asked.

“Yeah, I guess I have to be more wary of her now,” he sighed, “I hope she’s not in it for the Wayne fortune.”

“Doubt she is if she agreed the tabloids can suck it, Red Hood.”

“I pray you’re right.”

He then drew his guns and fired at the ground underneath their laest venture into crime-fighting. This was gonna be one hell of a ride Y/N embarked on, not even knowing what she was getting into.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x fem!reader #red hood x y/n #red hood x you #batfam #batfamily #batbros #jason todd fluff #red hood fluff #dcu #dc #dceu

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bookishofalder · 3 years

Text

Saviours Coffee House [Prologue]

Summary: Negan hires a new manager.

Warnings: Language! We’re starting off tame, but get ready because future parts get dark. WC—+2.7k.

A/N: Even if you aren’t a The Walking Dead fan, you might like this story—it’s a coffee shop A/U, I really only take the characters from TWD!

Now

Your eyes were only on Negan as he stalked forward, his normally bright eyes dark with fury as he clenched the baseball bat in his hands. You’d never seen him so angry...you’d never seen anyone so angry. Apprehension coiled in your gut, your mind blank, a doe caught in the headlights. You knew you had to move, to stop him—but part of you almost didn’t want to.

It was the part of you that had been beaten and broken over and over screaming for it to end. Screaming for you to let it happen.

And fuck, you wanted to listen to her.

Maybe you would.

—

Way Back

Negan Dean was sat at his desk, staring at the computer monitor in front of him without really seeing it. His mind had wandered away from the shop's accounting, the task he needed to complete. He had reason to be distracted, though, as he was in desperate need of a new manager, and he had a few interviews lined up that afternoon.

He’d put off rehiring for too long, left the manager position open and simply worked himself to the bone, running the place and leading it. But it had been months.

He’d needed to keep busy, after Lucille...no, he wasn’t thinking of her today. He needed to get the accounts sorted, have some lunch, and then start the interviews.

That was today’s game plan, and he was sticking to it. The extra work had finally caught up to him, as he knew it would. He was ready to step back because he was fucking exhausted and wanted to focus on his role as the owner of the Saviours Coffee House, behind the scenes. He needed a full-time manager to run the floor, someone smart and competent and good with people.

Simon had been on his ass for a while now about it, but he’d resolutely ignored his long-time friend, too stubborn for his own good. He knew Simon was right. But it was going to be on his fucking orders that a new person joined the tea—his family—even if it meant he’d fallen asleep in his office some nights, slumped over his desk in pure exhaustion.

Negan finished his task and stood, stretching out the kinks in his back, before making his way out onto the loft that overlooked most of the shop below. He had a few couches up here, and a little kitchenette next to his office, the area acting as a staff room in many ways; customers could not come up. At the opposite end of the loft, a door led up to the next floor, which was Negan’s condo. He’d bought the entire three-storey after the recession, gutted the whole thing and, working with a crew of mostly friends who had various trade jobs, renovated it entirely.

Negan was proud of Saviours Coffee House, a dream that he hadn’t always had come to life in the walls of what used to be an old, relatively small, textile factory. Now situated in the heart of downtown, it was the perfect spot for an edgy, laid-back place to unwind, meet friends, go on dates. Hell, Negan loved looking down and seeing a customer stay the whole day as they worked, even if they only bought one coffee. As far as he was concerned, the moment you spent a dime in his place, you were a customer for the day. And that had been a hit with many of the locals and students from the nearby university. Open five-thirty in the morning till eleven-thirty in the evening, Saviours welcomed all. So long as you kept your feet off the fucking tables and minded your manners.

In his former life, Negan worked as a high-ranking guard at the nearby penitentiary. It was a minimum-security, well-funded place where non-violent criminals ended up. He’d loved his years there, but after getting stabbed for the second time (the first was when he was young enough that he’d bounced back almost instantly) he decided to retire.

He sunk all of his savings into this dream, and years later had a lot to show for it. He’d also met a lot of down on their luck men in his time as a guard, so after Saviours became successful, he started a hiring program for white-collar criminals who completed a local, not-for-profit reintegration program. He only kept two on at a time, and most moved on after saving up enough.

Currently at the bar was Dwight, who’d been with Negan the longest now, having started just over a year before after getting out from serving time for drug possession. If Negan was proud of anything, it was Dwight. He’d seen the man evolve from a quiet asshole who barely grunted when customers paid, to a friendly bartender who mixed both amazing lattes and delicious cocktails, even if he grumbled about it. He was a fixture here now as much as Negan—and probably more well-liked, but Negan didn’t care about being liked. As long as people were happy, he was just fine.

It was the post-lunch lull now, so Dwight was wiping up the counters and switching the signs around from daytime menus to evening. Maggie, who had been working at Saviours for about two years, was wiping down the tables while Fleetwood Mac played over the expensive Bluetooth stereo system. He’d asked Maggie if she wanted the job, but she’d only laughed before telling him plainly that she had no desire to work full time or see him that much. He’d figured as much, seeing as she was in university, but he had wanted her to know it was hers if she did want it—she’d earned it.

Dwight was happy where he was, and didn’t want to upset the balance in life he’d worked so hard for, which Negan respected. His newest employee, also a convict hire, wasn’t up to scruff to become the manager, as much as he liked Paul, or ‘Jesus’, as everyone called him. He was a nice kid, worked hard, but seemed content working three part-time jobs. That had left Rosita and Tara, both part-time and students, and then Carol, part-time and not interested as she worked as a volunteer at the Children’s Hospital and didn’t want to give that up.

Which left him where he was now, stomping up the steps to his place to have a quick lunch before back-to-back interviews of promising contenders for a job he wished like hell he didn’t need to fill.

“Jesus. Fucking. Christ.” Negan slammed his hands onto the marble counter in frustration as Dwight watched him. He smirked as he tidied up the barista station.

“That bad, boss?” Dwight was shit at keeping the amusement off of his face. Negan scoffed, glancing behind him to ensure no customers were listening, but it was busy enough now with the after-class and work rush that the cacophony of voices and music allowed him to speak privately despite the location.

Negan held up one hand, holding his thumb and index finger a sliver apart. “I’ve got this much fucking patience left. Only one candidate wasn’t a god damned catfish and I didn’t like him,” He sighed, nodding gratefully when Dwight pointed to the espresso machine, knowing Negan needed his usual five o'clock pick-me-up. “I’ve got one last one; Daryl's friend. If she doesn’t fit, I’m going to have to beg Maggie—and you know she’ll love that too much to say yes.”

With a laugh, Dwight nodded in agreement, expertly moving about making Negan’s latte. “Carol seemed pretty sure you’d like her, said Daryl thinks of her like a little sister and when he heard you were looking for someone he was adamant she’d be perfect.”

Negan sighed, “Yeah, and I like Daryl so if this doesn’t work out and I have to start hating him I’m going to be real pissed off. Thanks, D.” He added when Dwight passed over the piping hot drink, still grinning at Negan’s displeasure.

Dwight dipped his head forward, eyes behind Negan, “I think that must be her, don’t recognize her and she’s dressed too nice for this place.” With that, he turned away and started loading dishes into one of the dishwashers. Negan turned, eyes scanning for the potential candidate, and he didn’t have to look far.

Because there you were, right out of a fucking dream.

Dwight had been right, you were dressed far too nicely for Saviours, but perfect for an interview (which instantly gave you points over a few of the previous interviewees). You were weaving by a few men who were standing at a high table and hadn’t yet noticed Negan, which allowed him to survey you.

The pretty green dress paired with a smart leather jacket and shiny kitten heels gave off an air of sophistication, accentuated your curves beautifully, and rendered his mind to mush for a brief moment. You wore your hair down, and it fell in elegant waves around your shoulders. Fuck, though, if you weren’t the prettiest woman he’d ever laid eyes on.

He thought Carol had mentioned you were in your mid-twenties, but you walked with more confidence about you than one usually saw in those formative years. Already impressed, Negan pushed himself away from the counter, stepped forward and smiled.

You looked around, his movement catching your eye, and returned the smile warmly as you approached. No doubt, you’d looked up their social media, seen pictures of Negan. Any smart candidate would do that, and Negan could already tell you were a clever girl. He called your name over the music, and you nodded, extending your hand

Negan took it into his and shook, enjoying how small your hand was compared to his. You were curvy and petite in the best ways, so much shorter than him but fully voluptuous, and you dressed like you knew you looked damn good, fuck whatever society said about beauty standards. “Mr. Dean, it’s great to meet you, sir.”

Negan grinned down at you, then pointed toward the staircase to your left, “Come on up, it’s quieter in the office.” And he led the way.

When he glanced back to make sure you were following, Negan saw you looking toward Dwight, giving him a friendly wave. He gave you a nod, a near smile, a pretty decent result from the house grump. He needed a manager who could get along with everyone, so right there was another point in your favour.

Closing the door brought the loudness of Saviours down to mere background noise, the evening crowds were always loud as shit. Negan loved it, the differences between the start and end of days, the energy. He gestured toward two armchairs he had, hating the process of sitting behind a desk to interview like he was some hot shot lawyer. He preferred the less intimidating, friendly way. It was just a coffee shop, after all.

A damn good one, though.

When you settled, Negan took his seat across from you, suddenly feeling a little distracted under the gaze of your bright eyes. “Well I’ll get straight to it; you come highly recommended by both Carol and Daryl. I won’t lie, I’m a pain in the ass to work for and I’m looking for someone who can handle hard work, long hours and most importantly, get along with my people. You really think that’s you?”

You were sitting with your back straight, legs crossed at the ankles, hands in your lap. You looked entirely at ease, meeting Negan’s eyes straight on as he spoke. When he finished, you leaned forward almost imperceptibly, your response instant.

“I’m exactly what you’re looking for, sir. I love people and get along with everyone. Do you think I’m best friends with Daryl and don’t know how to deal with a pain in the ass?” At this, Negan smirked, “I’m hardworking, and I have no other major commitments, so full time and long hours will suit me just fine.” You had a lovely voice, which was probably why you’d stayed working at the sales call centre for years before now.

In your resume, Negan had noted the year gap in wor—you had stopped working for the call centre just over a year ago, though it was noted you were a freelance writer and kept income that way. But he found it curious that you’d been working since you were a teenager and yet hadn't worked a solid job in a year. And now that he’d met you, he could see you were the hardworking type. Carol hadn’t known why you’d been away from a job for so long, stating that Daryl knew but didn’t tell her. He had said it didn’t matter, and that was good enough for Negan.

“Well, I’ll admit, on paper you’re ideal, which is why I scheduled you last today. I wanted to have time to read you.”

“And,” You interjected, a small smirk on your lips, “You know that keeping someone waiting the whole day for an interview will shred their nerves and leave them more susceptible to letting their true colours out.”

Negan stared, surprised, “Can’t get much past you, eh?”

You shrugged, “It’s a good tactic. But I assure you, I’m just as competent in the evening as the morning, and I think if you give me a chance to prove myself, you’ll be very happy with hiring me, Mr. Dean. I want to work here, you have an amazing place. It’s a part of this community, and the reintegration program is something I respect greatly, I have no issues working with men hired from there.” You paused, adjusting yourself slightly, palms falling open on your legs, “And, I’ll be frank, I want a job that has long days, that’ll keep me busy and tire me out and let me build relationships with customers. When I found out you were hiring, I jumped on the chance for Daryl to have Carol put in a good word for me. It just seems...right, to work here.”

“What about your writing, do you still do that?” Negan watched your face closely, and it didn’t waver, instead, your smile widened.

“I can write anywhere, anytime. And I make my own schedule with whatever commissions I take on, so it’ll be easy to write on my days off, or breaks if I don’t have a day off,” You pointed at Negan’s phone, which he’d set on the wide arm of his chair, “I can also help with writing any social media or website content, I know Carol mentioned you wanted to expand that presence, and I’m comfortable with that sort of work.”

Negan considered you, letting a comfortable silence fall as he thought over your words. You did seem eager, excited, and the fact that you’d researched what he was looking for impressed him further. Breaking eye contact, he glanced down at your resume once more, though he couldn’t think of anything else to ask. If he was honest with himself, he was ready to hire you after the first two minutes.

“I like you,” He said, thrumming his hands on his knees, “When can you start?”

“In the morning? Or I can go home, have my dinner and come back dressed more appropriately for work, if you need me straight away, sir.”

Negan shook his head, both as a response and in an attempt to toss away the thoughts that stirred up in the back of his mind every time you called him ‘sir’. “Tomorrow morning is perfect. And since you work for me now, you can call me Negan, asshole, or shithead, no more ‘Mr. Dean’ or fucking, ‘sir’, okay?”

When you smiled at Negan, it was the most dazzling he’d seen yet, bright white teeth and sweet dimples making his heart stutter. Damn, you really affected him. He needed to get a gri—you were half his age, for Christ's sake.

“Thank you, Negan,” You stood, holding your hand out and grasping his when he offered, your head tilting back to look at him as he stood before you. “Really, I promise I’ll make you proud.”

“Kid, I don’t doubt it.” He replied softly, and for a moment you simply looked at one another. Negan wasn't sure if you felt it, but he did; it was a spark. Fleeting, but strong enough that he knew life was about to get interesting again.

Taglist: @mermaidxatxheart @paintballkid711 @ladydmalfoy 🤍

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princecharmingmendes · 3 years

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Heart by Heart | Chapter VII | Raul Mendes

*secret agent AU*

Y/N and Raul have been friends ever since they could remember. And falling in love with your best friend can be pretty tricky and messy 99% of the times, add that to the fact they're constantly risking their lives side by side on the field since they're both secret agents, and the best team that's ever existed. Perfect recipe for disaster.

Oh hi, this is the seventh chapter of this series, you can find the first ones here. I can’t believe we are already halfway there! Please read the warnings on this one, if you don't feel comfortable with the contents listed on the "warnings" section, please read something else, there are a lot of other works on my masterlist and on the "fic rec" hashtag on my blog. Please give me some feedback and I hope you guys like. Happy Reading!

previous chapter | masterpost | next chapter

*Word Count: 5.5K+

*Warnings: cursing, jealousy, , man who can’t take a hint, angst (if you squint!), things might get hot in this (not smut though, sorry guys!). And Raul fluff, that’s a very important warning.

Please don’t read it if any of this subjects make you uncomfortable, feel free to check my masterlist for other writings.

*Posted: August 12th, 2021.

-*-

Raul was nervous.

Y/N knew he was anxious about something the moment he stepped foot into her apartment. They’ve known each other for so long, they’ve spent so much time together, that she was able to tell his fidgeting mannerisms and stiff shoulders from miles away. But under their current situations, him being this nervous could be a bad sign. He could’ve been discovered or something like that, which meant they’d have to leave the building in seconds and run as far away as they could.

Before she could stop herself, her eyes roamed all the expense of his body, looking for bleeding or any potential injury she could find, but none could be detected. Raul had left an hour ago for a morning run, Janet decided this was their day off since they’ve been working like crazy, so she forbid them from working on anything. So when he left after having a late breakfast with her, she wasn’t even worried about him being in danger, but seeing him all nervous was making her tense.

“Hi, doll” he said trying to sound casual but his voice sounded almost mechanic.

“Hey” she greeted from her spot on the couch, carefully placing her bookmark between the pages of the novel she picked up the other day “is everything okay?”

Raul dropped his keys and phone by the door as he nodded, moving behind the counter on the kitchen to fill a glass of water for him as he used that to calm himself down a bit “yeah, I just- do you want to go out tonight with me?”

“Uh, sure, is that all?”

Raul seemed surprised at that “So, uh, you’d go out with me? Just the two of us?”

“Of course, we’ve done that before” she said still trying to understand his reaction. Was he asking her out on a date? And if he was, wasn’t it obvious she’d go?

“Yeah, I know, but this is different, I think we both know things changed between us, sweetheart, and this could be a chance for us to forget our reality for a second and just let things happen, maybe?” the normally confident, borderline cocky demeanor he normally carried around was gone. His body language showed clearly an almost shy side of him that Y/N wasn’t aware existed.

And she did know what he was talking about. They’re always close and intimate, he’s a very touchy kind of person and that’s definitely his love language, so that wasn’t knew. But spending the night and waking up cuddled to his chest was new, different in a good way, and that left her crush into growing by the second. It was getting harder to ignore, and honestly, Y/N didn’t have it in her to avoid it that much anymore.

“Yeah, I’d like that” and with that his face lit up completely and she flashed him a bright smile.

“Yeah?” he asked as he approached her, pressing a kiss to her forehead as she nodded “good, saw this really nice restaurant by the docks, it’s Italian”

“Oh great, what time do you want to leave? Just so I can get ready” she said looking up at him as he stood up to his full height.

Raul starting pulling his shirt off as he moved to the hallway leading to her bathroom “Seven works for you?”

“It does it’s perfect, I only need to help Celine out, but I’m having lunch with her to do that” Y/N replied as she forced herself to focus on the book in her hands and not the perfectly designed muscles on his abs as he leaned on the doorframe to the bathroom.

She heard Raul chuckled as he closed the door, not locking right after. Y/N would need a few hours to get herself together if she wanted to survive this ‘date’.

-*-

She ended up spending most of her afternoon with Celine and trying to calm down. If Celine noticed, she didn’t express anything, maybe too worried about her little mission tonight, but she was a good distraction. Trying to explain the best use for all of the equipment she receive and discussing the plan over and over again. Then she was told to leave and rest, boss’ order since it was their little day off.

Y/N got back to her apartment at around 5 p.m. finding Raul napping on her couch, the little fluffy blanket she had cuddled close to his chest. She had to hold back a coo not to disturb his sleep, and physically stopping herself from playing with his hair or caressing his face. So she decided to shower while he rested, so when he was up he could have the bathroom all to himself.

Before leaving the bathroom, she peaked her head outside of the door to check if Raul was still peacefully sleeping on the couch, which he was. So she took that to her advantage as she crossed to her room with only a towel wrapped around herself as she tried to figure out what she could possibly wear. She only packed really basic outfits, and sure, she didn’t really need to dress up and Raul’s seen her with every single type of outfit, so if she got all dolled up it wouldn’t be the first time or actually impactful.

But bless Y/N from weeks ago from deciding to throw a delicate sundress amongst all the gear she brought in her suitcase. It was a backless dress, with spaghetti straps holding the sunflower dress on her body. She felt pretty and comfortable in it, and it was enough to convince her this was it. A soft knock coming from her bedroom door brought her back to reality as she ran her hands down the front of the dress nervously.

“Yeah?” was all she said.

“Can I come in?” Raul asked before actually opening the door, only doing so after getting her consent “oh wow”

“What?” she felt a little self conscious under his gaze, she knew she’s been out with so many beautiful woman and she hated this stupid insecurity rising in her chest, but she could really help it.

All of her stupid questioning and anxiety were quickly washed away when she looked at him, finding Raul speechless and still staring at her, mouth slightly agape.

“Shit, you’re gorgeous, holy fuck, come here, doll” he said as he offered her his hand, which she gladly took as he pulled her closer, twirling her around blowing a low whistle “you’re so ducking beautiful, I love this dress on you”

Y/N shook her head giggling “oh stop it”

“I’m serious, baby, you’re just so perfect, sometimes I don’t even believe you’re real” as his praises slipped out of his lips she felt her face getting hotter and hotter.

“Oh God, you’re such a sap” all she could do was cover her face with her hands.

He gave her million dollar smirk pulling her hands away to look at her properly “only for you, sweetheart”

Y/N shook her head “I still need to put on some makeup” she warned him and he nodded, placing a kiss to her forehead.

“Take your time” he then added “I’ll change real quick and I’ll wait for you to finish getting ready, yeah?”

“Okay” was all she mumbled before she saw him leaving her apartment to walk down the hall to his.

She grabbed her little bag of makeup items deciding to do something a little bit nicer than her very basic everyday routine. Y/N padded her way still barefoot to her bathroom, propping herself up to sit on the sink and get closer to the mirror, placing her items nicely next to her. Just as she decided what she was going for, she heard Raul coming in. She let him know she was in the bathroom and she wouldn’t take long, but to her surprise, as she was prepping her skin, he slipped into the bathroom silently.

“Is everything okay?” she asked quietly looking at him through the mirror.

He was standing right behind her as he lifted his hands to place them in her waist, moving her hair to one shoulder to another, placing a gentle kiss to the newly exposed skin. Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine as she fought to keep her expression as neutral as possible, but he was making it hard. His cologne making her feel lightheaded, add that to his soft touches and eyes locked with hers through the mirror.

He was wearing a silky black button up, with the first few open, most of his chest exposed, his silver chain peaking through. His classic tight black jeans and his curls as perfect as ever. Raul looked like a fucking dream and being so gentle she felt like this was a dream, and it it weren’t for the cold of his rings against her slightly heated skin, she would be sure this was just her mind playing tricks on her.

“Yeah, just like watching you get ready” he mumbled placing another kiss to the place where her shoulder and neck met, making her let out a soft sigh.

Y/N trapped her bottom lip between her teeth as she met his gaze through the glass “you’re a little shit, you know that?” and he only chuckled lowly in his chest, shaking his head “let me finish so we can go!”

“I’m not stopping you” he said with a teasing tone and his smirk, but leaned away from her exposed skin, his hand never leaving her waist “but I guess I’ll behave cause I’m a good boy

“Of course you are” she chuckled, shaking her head, as she got back to her work.

She carefully applied a few items of makeup not wanting to look like it was too much, and every once in a while, she glanced back at Raul that stood patiently behind her. His thumb rubbing slow circles at her waist from time to time as he watched every move attentively. He smiled gently at her when he noticed her staring, a slight blush coating his cheeks.

“You look so pretty, doll” he admitted at she leaned forward to apply some mascara “so so pretty”

Y/N giggled shaking her head “did you hit your head or something? What happened to you today? You’re clingier and sweeter than ever”

Raul chuckled “I’m just enjoying my day off with my best girl, that’s all, I’m just happy and glad we got to do this” and with that she almost turned into a puddle “and just wanted to remind you how pretty you are”

“Thank you, darling” she meant it and she turned her head to place a quick kiss to his cheek, feeling her face heating up considerably “almost done, only a little highlighter and lipgloss”

Raul nodded as she finished applying the products and setting with a spray, before turning around to climb out of the counter. But before she could jump to get off, he had his arms around her waist to pick her up and carrying her to her bedroom as she squealed after laughing at him. He carefully placed her back on her feet at the bottom of her bed with a smile on his face.

“There you go”

Y/N laughed patting his chest softly “thank you” and then she turned to grab her shoes and her purse “do you think I should grab a jacket?”

“It’s probably better since it’s by the waters and we might need to walk a bit to reach the place I have in mind” he said with a shrug as he bit his lip “you can take mine, the leather one by the door”

“Are you sure?” she asked turning to fully face him completely ready, and she swears she saw his breath hitching.

“Yeah yeah, of course” he was quick to nod and she smiled at him in response.

“Okay!” Y/N practically hoped to the from door to grab the look, throwing it over her shoulders without actually putting it on and she waited for him.

Raul trailed behind her like a trained puppy chuckling, extending his hand towards her “you’re absolutely gorgeous”

“And you’re insanely pretty” she added as she interlaced their fingers letting him pull her closer to his body, his warmth radiating through his opened button down and the soft material of her summer dress.

“You think so?” Raul asked with a smirk and she nodded trying to hold back a laugh with an eye roll “good, pretty enough for you?”

Her eyes widened as she realized that behind his smirk he was actually curious, maybe even a tiny bit insecure, which made zero sense to her“Are you kidding me? You’re literally like a model of something”

“Thank you, sweetheart” he smiled genuinely, placing a kiss on her forehead before pulling her towards the door “now come on, promised you dinner”

-*-

The ride to the docks was pleasant, with him goofing around and singing horribly off tune to whatever song come up on the radio (and even though he would never admit it alive, he actually had a pretty decent singing voice, while Shawn was the singer, Raul wasn’t bad himself at all). He had his hand gently placed on her thigh, not high enough to make things weird, instead it was a comforting weight keeping her grounded and lightheaded at the same time.

They couldn’t park next to the restaurant, having to find a spot on the parallel street alongside everyone else who wanted to venture on the stores and diners. Raul was quick to hop out of the car and open the door for her, to which she just laughed and kissed his cheek as a thank you, locking her arm with his as they walked around the block.

The place he picked was a small cozy restaurant, looking all warm and homey as soon as the stepped foot in it. They were quickly whisked away by the host and walked to their table as they sat on a booth by the window, watching all the boats and movement from the street. Y/N sat across from him so they could both have enough room to feel comfortable.

“This place is so cute” she was the first to break the silence that installed as the walked in.

“You liked it?” his shoulders relaxing as she nodded her head cheerfully.

She looked around before turning back to face him “I loved it, never could’ve imagined we’d be in a place like this under this circumstances, but I’m glad we are”

“Me too, I wish I would’ve asked you out on a different situation, maybe a few months ago” he said scratching the back of his neck looking anywhere but her face “and I know this isn’t a proper date and stuff, but I think it’s a great start so we could figure out where to take this, but if you want it to be a date it’s fine by me! It’s just- I-“ Y/N couldn’t let him get into his head, so she gently placed her hand on top of the one he had resting on the table.

“Hey” she called softly as he finally looked at her, so she shot him a small smile “we don’t have to label anything for now, yeah? We don’t need to worry about this right now, we have other stuff in our heads, okay? We have all the time we could ask for and I don’t mind waiting a bit longer”

Raul smiled at her and brought her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to each knuckle (an old habit of his, it started when she punched a guy in middle school for bothering Peter, he kissed each bruise and swollen knuckle he could, saying she was so brave and so strong) “yeah, I’m normally not his nervous, and I know I technically don’t need to be, it’s just you’re too important to me for me to fuck things up”

“You won’t, don’t worry, yeah?” she offered and he nodded “now, let’s discuss an important matter, what are we having?”

“Great question and I have no fucking clue” he admitted and she laughed at him.

They ended up picking a plate for them to share since it was a big portion as the talked, and time seemed to fly around them. They’re always so easy going, conversations flowed so naturally and it felt so right, they both ended up forgetting why they’re so nervous to begin with. This wasn’t a date date, it was just an excuse to understand where they stood and how they wanted to proceed, and they’ve known each other for years, it’s not like they had to make amazing first impressions if they wanted this to work.

They decided against ordering dessert since Y/N claimed she saw an ice cream shop down the block and that she was pretty much stuffed anyway. So Raul payed the bill against her protests, but she ended up giving in with a promise she’d be the one to buy their ice creams. They walked hand in hand down the small street that was surrounded by people, and as she claimed, there was this beautiful ice cream shop.

They placed their orders as she paid and he grabbed both of their treats, and ended up deciding to just eat outside on the light breeze to watch the boats and the water. They walked to the end in the street, leaning into the small wall that kelts kids from falling or jumping on the water. They’re just lightly chatting about random stuff, recounting old embarrassing stories when she visibly saw Raul’s demeanor change drastically.

But before she could ask what’s wrong or turn around for potential triggers, she felt a calloused hand on the exposed skin of her back. When she whipped her head around to see whoever was standing behind her she was surprised to be met with the man himself. Geonoff Reyes was standing right behind her.

“Oh hello, Y/N, how are you?” his voice made her stomach churn.

“Oh my God, hi!” she smiled politely turning completely to face him, her back now pressed to Raul’s front, unconsciously moving away from the man’s gross touch and into Raul’s warm chest “I’m okay, you remember him, right, love?”

She didn’t need to turn around for Raul to know she was talking to him “oh yeah, hey man, how have you been?” he had an arm around Y/N’s waist in a second, bringing her even closer to him and she went gladly, the weight of him on her comforting.

“I’ve been good, working a lot, trying to expand my business”

Y/N squealed softly in a fake excitement “Oh that’s awesome!”

“Yeah, congrats, man” Raul said with a smile he wasn’t even sure how he managed to fake.

“Thank you, guys, it’s been hard but it’s worth it” Reyes’ said with a smirk on his face “are you guys here on a date or something? I’m not interrupting anything, right?”

“Oh no, it’s okay, we’ve been down here for a while now, but yeah, Raul has been trying to get me to come down here for a while so he made it a date night and I couldn’t really say ‘no’” she explained as she placed her hands on his bicep, holding him in place.

“And are you liking it so far?” his slightly annoyed tone didn’t go unnoticed by Raul, as he glanced at the arm he had wrapped around Y/N as if it was something revolting.

“Oh yes, it’s amazing, really, such a beautiful view” she added pointing to the boats.

“Agreed, but you’re a a better view” Geonoff chuckled at his own flirtations joke and Y/N chuckled softly when in reality she wanted to puke “well, in case you ever feel like it, I own a couple of boats, so I could take you on a ride if you wanted”

Raul almost lost his temper there, but he felt Y/N slightly squeezing his muscle and he forced himself to relax and to keep his cool.

“Oh thank you, but I’m a little afraid, rather be here on land where I know I’m safe” she said with a sweet smile, but she had a bitter taste on her mouth.

“In case you ever change your mind, you have my number” he added with a wink “I gotta get going, have a meeting in my yatch now”

“Have a nice night, man, good luck with your business” Raul forced himself to speak up and Geonoff looked up at him almost as if he had forgotten he was there and flashed him a smile, but not without looking him up and down with disgust.

“Oh yes! Have a great night” Y/N waved politely “Don’t let us keep you from getting to your meeting, wouldn’t want you getting late”

“Good night, drive home safely, yes?” Geonoff said, reluctantly peeling his eyes from Y/N’s figure.

“Of course, I’ll keep her safe, don’t worry” Raul said kissing her hair and she giggled in response.

Geonoff waved before walking in the area she supposed was where he’d climb on his yatch, and only then Y/N noticed the man in suit surrounding him, heavily armed. When he was finally far enough she let ou a breath she didn’t know she was holding, melting completely into Raul’s chest. He held her tighter so she wouldn’t slip.

“Come on, it’s getting late, my love, let’s get you home” Raul said pulling her in the direction to their car.

The whole way home Raul didn’t utter a single word and Y/N was still processing everything, so they both sat in silence, the only noise was coming from the soft purr of the engine and the low music coming from the radio. As he parked oh the garage, they both got out of the car and moved to the elevator almost automatically, still without speaking up, mostly due to possibly leaking some information.

As if he could read his mind, when she started breathing a bit heavier due to the stressful situation and the weird vibe they had between them, Raul quietly slipped his hand in hers, giving it a gentle yet reassuring squeeze. She then left a breath she didn’t know she was holding, stepping out of the elevator as it hit their floor and dragging him behind her like a puppy to enter her place.

“Are you okay?” Raul asked as soon as she locked the door and turned to face him.

She nodded leaving her shoes by the door, alongside her purse and hanging her (his) leather jacket “Yeah, just a bit shocked, you know? Wasn’t expecting him to be there, Celine’s been following him for the thing he had, but we didn’t know he’d have a meeting on a boat”

“Yeah, sorry about that” he mumbled mimicking her actions as he scratched the back of his neck.

“It’s okay, you did nothing wrong, honey” Y/N said finally actually looking at him, noticing the prominent frown on his face, a small pout on his overly pink lips “hey, it could’ve happened to anyone and anytime, you couldn’t have known”

Raul huffed a breath shaking his head as he plopped down on the couch, running a hand on his hair “yeah, but this was one of our only chances to relax for the past weeks and he ruined it everything”

“He didn’t ruin everything” she was quick to stop him, sitting down beside him, tucking her legs under her body as she rested her arm on the backrest of the small couch, stretching a bit to place her hand on his shoulder “I had a lovely time and I honestly can’t remember when was the last time I actually had this much fun on a non-date date”

Raul turned his face slightly to place a gentle kiss on her hand “really? You’re not just lying to make me feel better?”

She gasped feigning offense “what do you take me for?”

“A liar” he stated without blinking, and she was quick to try to get up and make a dramatic scene, but he was faster to wrap his long fingers on her wrist near his face, pulling her back down and in his lap as he laughed “come on, doll, it was just a joke”

“You're an idiot” she said laughing trying to climb out of his lap, but the arm that was wrapped around her waist stopped her.

Raul shook his head “no, no, stay here, sweetheart, and we’ve already discussed this” he said looking pointedly at her, but the small grin playing on his lips gave him away and she shook her head “Yes, I am an idiot, but I’m your idiot”

“I don’t mind that” she said with a shrug and he smiled at her.

“Good thing you don’t” he chuckled, comfortable hand on her back as he drew random shapes on the exposed skin of her back making her shiver slightly “you know, the jacket looked really good on you”

Y/N huffed a small laugh shaking her head“Yeah? Might steal it”

“You shouldn’t announce it, silly, but I have to admit, you could probably steal my whole closet and I still wouldn’t be mad at you” he said turning her in his lap to face him and making her properly straddle him “you look too good in my clothes for that” he added voice slightly lower.

If Y/N had been drinking water she would’ve choked, but she tried to keep her face as straight as possible “you're such a flirt”

He then laughed “Only for you, doll”

“Oh shut up, you literally flirt with yourself on reflexes and might have flirted with the dog we saw earlier” Y/N pointed resting her hands on his chest as she laughed.

But Raul shook his head trying to hold himself from chuckling “well, it’s not intentional, didn’t know you were jealous of my own reflection”

“I'm not the jealous one here, darling” she had a teasing glint in her eyes, but he didn’t even hesitate before admitting, knowing denying would be ridiculous at this point.

“What do you want me to do? Everyone wants you, I can’t help it sometimes” he said and Y/N arched a brow at him “okay, okay, most times, but you’re just so fucking pretty and smart, and talented and good and of course I get jealous”

She was left slightly speechless. Sure he always complimented her, about pretty much everything but they’re normally casually thrown, here and there, but since they weren’t so directly she was able to brush it off with a joke. But never so many in a row and looking her straight in the eye. Y/N looked down, dropping her hands on her lap and fidgeting with her ring.

But then she felt his hand tilting her head slightly up so she could look him in the eye, her whole face burning up, and he smiled so sweetly at her she was even slightly breathless. His hand came to rest on her jaw as his thumb caressed her cheeks gently “did I say something wrong?”

“No, no, no” she was quick to add “no, you’re just-”

His voice was quiet when he inquired “What?”

“So sweet and-” she sighed looking around and shook her head.

“Sweetheart?” his voice was like honey, all warm and making her feel tingly as she looked down at him again and she didn’t know what to do.

Raul was staring at her lips and they’re suddenly too close, she didn’t even notice how close to his face she was, her noses almost touching, and maybe they gravitated closer to each other unconsciously, almost like magnets. But she wasn’t complaining. Her mind having a tiny short circuit and she got lost in his eyes.

He leaned forward a bit more, giving her a tiny eskimo kiss, their lips brushing “Am I reading this wrong?” his voice an octave lower and she shook her head, leaning in the rest of the way.

She caught his lips in a tentative kiss, hands splayed on his chest, not fully confident on it, but all of her self doubts flew out of the window as he sighed happily kissing her back, pulling her even closer to him and keeping her flush against his chest with a hadn’t around her waist. She literally felt like she was on the moon, her head spinning as he enveloped her in everything him.

His hand gently caressing her face, his other one on her waist, his cool rings a stark contrast to the heated skin exposed by the low-cut back of her dress. His smell was everywhere, his thighs under him and the soft fabric of his silky shirt. Raul didn’t hesitate to slot her bottom lips between his two, deepening the kiss and taking control of it.

All this years, all his pent up emotions taste on his tongue as he swept it over her soft glossy lips, and she was quick to open her mouth to him. Bringing one of her hands to tangle on the small curls at the base of his neck, pulling on the soft chocolate curls and he could not hold back the small whine that left his lips and she swallowed it. The soft strokes of his tongue against her making her want to his him forever.

But as if he sensed it, he pulled back placing a long kiss to her lips and trailing his mouth in slow wet kisses down her neck “can't believe I waited this long for this to happen” but Y/N only hummed in response, too lost in the feeling and trying to catch her breath, pulling his hair a little harder and he let out a deep groan “fuck, sweetheart, you’re gonna be the death of me”

She then titled his head up by his hair, before glueing their lips back together, his hand dropping to her exposed thigh and her breath hitched in her throat. But before things could go any further, she heard a strong knock on her door, making her snap her head to look at the front door of her apartment.

“Y/N, sweetie, I need help” she barely recognized Celine’s voice in the fake sweetened tone she used for her cover.

“Oh shit, they must be back from the mission” she whispered as she turned to Raul with wide eyes and he looked completely blissed out “what are we going to do?”

“Honey, is your boyfriend in there? Hope you’re both decently dressed” Celine called with a teasing tone and it didn’t seem fake at all.

Raul held her face in his hand trying to get her to focus and said it in a hushed tone “it's okay, go open the door to her and we don’t have to say anything just yet, we can talk about this later, yeah? Everything’s fine, I just need a second to- uh, you know, calm myself down a bit” he added the last part a bit shyly and she nodded taking a deep breath.

“He's here but we’re decent” she shouted back with a fake laugh as she scrambled out of his lap, leaning down a bit to arrange his curls and cleaning the excess gloss that transferred onto his lips “Coming, darling, you want me to kick him out?” she offered shooing him out of the couch and aligning the throw pillows to make it less obvious.

“No, no, he can stay, it’s just Trevor again” Celine came up with the stupidest excuse she could think of.

Raul nodded to her as he hid behind the kitchen counter, casually grabbing a beer. So she took a deep breath and tried getting herself together before unlocking the door, being met with Celine looking at her suspiciously in casual attire.

“Oh hi, come in” Y/N said as she straightened her dress and pulling the door more open, watching as Celine stared her up and down but not saying a thing about her slightly disheveled state.

Instead she looked at Raul by the kitchen counter and said “Jack's coming with Tom in a sec” and sat down on the couch.

Y/N felt Raul’s gaze on her, but instead she just turned to close the door and then sitting by Celine, trying to ignore those damn butterflies on her stomach.

-*-

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*xoxo

-🌙

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