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marvelfanfn2187a113 · 4 months

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Auntie Row

Rowena & Winchester little sister!reader, team free will & Winchester!reader

Requested by anonymous

Synopsis: Rowena has a soft spot for the Winchester’s little sister, and they get into lots of trouble together (I suck at synopsis, just read the fic it’s better)

Warnings: honestly nothing, time frame makes no sense with reader’s age but 🤷‍♀️

“Rowena, what do you think you’re doing?”

The witch looked up in surprise when the Winchester brothers entered.

“Sammy!” You, the brothers’ six-year-old sister, ran straight to your big brother and giggled when he lifted you into his arms.

“Oh, you’re back,” Rowena said, cringing. “That was quick.”

“Auntie Row is teaching me how to do magic, like Hermione!” You babbled excitedly.

“Rowena…” Dean growled in warning.

“Now now, she’s a growing girl!” Rowena defended herself. “Learning magic is a perfectly natural part of growing up.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Sam scoffed.

“But Sammy!” You whined.

“Nu-uh,” Sam shook his head. “C’mon, it’s about time you had a nap.” He carried you out without another word to Rowena, who huffed dramatically and started to gather her belongings.

“When we said you could watch Y/N—“ Dean began, but Rowena cut him off.

“I know you didn’t mean this, but honestly Dean Winchester, how d’you expect the girl to defend herself if she can’t use magic?”

“She doesn’t have to,” Dean insisted. “We’ll protect her.”

“Oh honestly, you can’t be around her all the time! If she had magic, she could—“

“For the last time Rowena; no.” Dean’s tone left no room for argument.

“Uh, guys.” Sam returned to the room with a slight frown on his face. “Y/N said she wants Rowena to continue her story from last night. She’s refusing to sleep without it.”

“Well,” Rowena smirked. “Duty calls.”

“Hey.” Dean caught Rowena by the arm, and she glared at him. “Magic always comes with a price. I don’t want her to have to pay it.”

Rowena softened.

“I understand, Dean Winchester.”

His grip slackened, and Rowena left to go to you.

…

“I have a little something for you,” Rowena said as she stepped into your room.

“Can we finish the story?” You asked.

“Of course, sweet girl, of course. But first, I want to show you something. You remember that cursed necklace from the story? The one that protected the witch from the angry mob?”

“Uh-huh.” You nodded excitedly.

“Well, I think it’s time it protected someone else.” Rowena grinned, unclasping the necklace that was hidden behind her shirt and carefully putting it on you.

“Really?” Your eyes went wide as you stared up at the witch.

“Yes. That will protect you from anyone who wants to harm you. That way you don’t have to use any magic, just like your brothers said.”

“Thank you, Auntie Row,” you breathed sincerely, reverence painting your tone as you admired the glowing red jewel.

Rowena leaned forward and kissed your forehead.

“You’re very welcome, sweet thing. Now, let’s finish that story, shall we?”

…

“Kiddo, please, it’s just for a few days,” Sam tried to soothe you, but you still wouldn’t let go of his leg and continued to cry. “Mary’s gonna take good care of you, I promise.”

“I could really help you guys on this one,” Mary argued.

“She needs someone to watch her,” Dean reasoned.

“And why am I the automatic choice?” Mary countered.

“You two are not helping,” Sam said through gritted teeth as he picked you up, letting you lay your head on his shoulder. He hated Mary’s distance from you; you were John’s, but not hers. He understood her reason for not getting close to you, but you were just a little kid, and you didn’t deserve that. Sam just rubbed your back, still trying to soothe you as you continued to sniffle.

“If you boys needed help, you could’ve just asked.”

The three adults turned in surprise at the sound of Rowena’s voice.

“I mean honestly, it’s not like I haven’t babysat before.”

Dean was hesitant. “I don’t know if—“

“Sounds like a plan,” Mary said, going to grab her duffel. She tossed over her shoulder, “now I can help on the hunt!”

“Am I gonna stay with Auntie Row?” You asked Sam, your eyes wide and pleading.

“I…yeah honey, you are,” Sam sighed.

“Yay!” You grinned, wiping your tears away and squirming in Sam’s grip.

“Ok, ok,” Sam chuckled, lowering you to the ground so you could run to Rowena for a hug. “It’s probably best that you guys don’t stay in the bunker.” Sam directed his next words at the witch holding his little sister. “The bunker’s system still goes a little wonky with a witch inside, so one of your safe houses is probably a better idea.”

“That works for me.” Rowena grinned. “How would you like to go to Paris, sweet thing?” She asked you.

“This is a horrible idea,” Dean sighed. But he still grabbed his bag and headed out to Baby anyway.

…

“We’re back!” Sam called as he stepped into the bunker.

“Sammy! De!” You squealed, running to your big brothers and reaching them just as they came down the stairs. Dean scooped you into his arms and held you tight, comforted to see such a happy sight after such a grueling hunt.

“Hey, what’s this?” Sam asked, noticing your outfit.

“Auntie Row took me to shops in Paris, and we got a lot of clothes!” You babbled excitedly as Dean let Sam pull you into his arms.

“You’re spoiling her, Rowena,” Dean chuckled, no longer quite so hesitant about the witch now that he saw how happy you were.

“And she deserves every bit of it,” Rowena said.

…

“Ow!”

“I’m sorry darling, but you must sit still!”

“What’s going on in here?” Sam asked curiously as he stepped into your room to see you and Rowena sitting in front of your vanity.

“I’m trying to do her hair, but she won’t stop squirming,” Rowena explained, running a little pink brush through your hair.

“It’s all knotty!” You whined.

“Well it won’t be in a minute,” Rowena said.

Sam just smiled as he watched you, finally getting experiences that you’d never had before; motherly experiences.

The more he watched, though, the more he noticed how much you were squirming, and how much you seemed to be whining.

“Hey, you seem kinda grumpy, kid. Did you get a nap today?” He asked, coming to stand beside you and Rowena.

“Yeah,” you sniffled.

“You’re kinda pale,” he muttered under his breath, getting on one knee and reaching the back of his hand out to touch your forehead. “Jeez kid, you’re burning up.”

“She’s ill?” Rowena put the brush down and turned your chair around so you were facing her, repeating Sam’s gesture and checking your temperature. “She is quite hot.”

“Hey, let’s get you into some pjs, ok?” Sam suggested, lifting you into his arms. “You should get some sleep.”

“I already had a nap!” You insisted, squirming in Sam’s arms.

“Hey Sammy, I think I found us a case,” Dean said, stepping into your room. “Something wrong?”

“She’s got a fever,” Sam sighed. “You should go without me.”

“Oh nonsense,” Rowena spoke up. “Just leave her with me.”

“I don’t want to leave her when she’s sick,” Sam argued.

“Oh she’ll be fine,” Rowena insisted. “I’ll give her some herbs and she’ll be out like a light, she’ll sleep until you get back.”

“I don’t know…” Sam sighed.

“How about this,” Rowena said. “You put her to bed, and leave once she’s asleep. I’ll watch over her, and I’ll call you if she worsens.”

“Alright.” Sam looked at you. “Is that ok kiddo?”

You nodded sleepily, suddenly not so eager to fight another nap.

“Sammy, my tummy hurts,” you whimpered.

Sam nearly melted at this, more reluctant than ever to leave you.

“I know sweetheart, c’mon let’s get you into some pjs and then you can go to sleep, ok?”

Sam helped you get dressed while Dean packed for the hunt. It didn’t take long to have you tucked into bed, and you fell asleep almost as soon as your head hit the pillow.

Sam lingered in your doorway, unsure about leaving you like this.

“She’ll be fine,” Rowena soothed the Winchester brother. “She’s asleep, and I’ll call you if anything changes.”

“Alright,” Sam sighed, grabbing the bag that Dean had packed him. “Just…take care of her, ok?”

“Always,” Rowena responded.

And she did. When the Winchester brothers returned, your fever had broken and you were resting on the couch with Rowena, some cartoon playing on the tv.

“Hello boys,” she greeted when she saw them.

“Hey kid.” Sam went straight to you, brushing your hair away from your face. “Are you feeling any better?”

Rowena went to speak to Dean while you answered Sam with a distracted “yeah,” continuing to watch your cartoon.

“Her fever broke,” she explained to him. “I think it’s best if she rests a bit more, though.”

“Thank you, Rowena,” Dean said sincerely. “She really seems to like you.”

Rowena smiled. “She does, doesn’t she?”

…

“Did you have fun?” Sam asked you.

You nodded, finally pulling your gaze from the cartoon.

“Yeah, I like Auntie Row!”

Sam smiled softly.

“I’m glad.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl

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celtic-crossbow · 7 months

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Series Masterlist

*Click here to be added to taglists.

Chapter 6

Warnings: Allusions to abuse, Reader’s poor mental health

It was nearly dusk when the three of you finally reached the prison gates. You had awoken a few hours earlier but remained quiet, only taking breaks when the men did. You didn’t want to bother them, especially Daryl, with anything trivial. Everything already seemed so fragile.

Your first experience with a walker had been terrifying. You didn’t know what you had been expecting but seeing a rotting human face beneath the water’s surface just as its slimy fingers had wrapped around your ankle was not it. You had been so scared that you hadn’t had the sense of mind to watch it being handled.

Now, still cradled in Daryl’s arms, you had a front row seat. There were several of the dead shuffling around the gates, making sounds that had the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. Rick was carefully circling Daryl, making sure none of the corpses managed to get too close while the gate slid open. You assumed the archer didn’t set you down because you were unable to defend yourself. You did feel mighty safe where you were.

Once the gate was closed and locked, your legs were lowered until your feet touched the ground. There were a few people there, and every eye was on you. Absently, you took a step back and placed yourself just behind Daryl’s shoulder.

“Who’s this?” A woman with shorn silver hair asked. Her hand was on the handle of a knife on her belt, but her expression was kind.

“This is Y/N.” Rick supplied, hugging a young boy against his side. The action made the large hat on the kid’s head tilt, and he gave a look of annoyance as he corrected it. “Daryl did some… bargaining at one of the places we visited so she was allowed to leave.”

“Allowed?” The kid asked, watching you with a curious expression.

“S’a long story.” Daryl huffed, beginning the trek up toward the main building with you right on his heels. There were people in the tower you passed, mere silhouettes in the dimming light, but Daryl waved after a man’s voice called out in greeting. Aside from that, the outside was void of people.

The archer opened a large metal door and held it, letting you pass through before following. There was no one just inside but you could hear conversations and movement further ahead. You didn’t seem to be heading for that though. You were guided up a small set of stairs to someone’s living area. Considering Daryl pulled off his vest and draped it over the railing, you surmised it was likely his.

“Wait here. M’a see where Rick wants ta put ya.”

You sat down on the mattress, pulling your knees to your chest. “Could I… I’d like to stay with you.”

“Ain’t gon’ happen.” He replied instantly. There was no bite but sounded resolute.

“Please?” You pressed, hugging your legs tighter. “I don’t want to be with strangers.”

“Lady, I am a stranger!” Daryl yelled, jabbing a finger into his own chest. His shoulders fell when you flinched almost violently, reining in his exasperation with a deep breath.

“Yes, but… you paid for me. Bought me, fair and square.” You wiped angrily at your eyes, cursing yourself for not holding your composure in front of him. This was not what you were taught. Big Jazz would have flogged you. It was clear to you that you continued to push your luck with Daryl. Eventually, his intentions would be made clear. Maybe he just liked to play with his food first. “That means that you’re the closest thing to…family that I have.”

That made something in his chest hurt. “That’s why ya need ta be with them.”

“But—”

“Ain’t nothin’ else ta say. Wait here.” He snapped, turning his back on you before you watched him disappear down the stairs.

You sat in the corner of the cell assigned to you, knees pulled to your chest, making yourself as small as possible. It reminded you so much of your cage in the back of Big Jazz’s club. This one at least had a bed, but without a customer in it, it felt wrong to use it.

Even more confounding was that the cell door had been left open and a sheet hanged in the open space. “For privacy” the woman called Carol had told you. She had brought you fresh clothes, guessing your size and worrying once she saw you again that they might swallow you whole. They laid in a neat, folded pile on the mattress. A bowl of warm stew was offered but you had turned your head, too nauseated from the anxiety clawing at your gut to even think of eating.

Carol had offered to help you settle in, even suggesting she brush your hair. You had just stared at her, confused at her kindness when you knew she was above you in every way. The girls at the club would never offer such consideration. Some had been nice enough, but given your ‘history,’ they mostly chose to use you as a scapegoat when things would go wrong for them.

Carol had been fully dressed, from her shirt and camisole to her booted feet. It was a wonder Daryl let her get away with that. That led to the thought that maybe Daryl wasn’t actually the man in charge. You’d have to tread carefully if that was the case. Any of the men could be leading and you couldn’t slip up like you had so many times in front of the archer.

“Y/N?” Carol called from behind the curtain. “May I come in?” You pulled your legs impossibly closer and didn’t answer. “If you don’t answer, I’m going to assume it’s okay for me to come in.” She added in a no nonsense tone. Fear churned in your belly, so unsure of this new place and its inhabitants. You felt as though you were walking on eggshells already and no one seemed to be giving you any real direction. “Coming in.” The sheet lifted and Carol ducked below it, looking to the bed first before eventually spotting you in the corner. “Now, what on earth are you doing over there?”

She crouched to your level but didn’t advance any closer. “Did you not want to get changed? I only wanted to wash the clothes you have and return them to Daryl but that can wait until tomorrow if you’re more comfortable.”

Your fingernails were digging into the sides of your legs, your face drifting lower and lower behind your knees to hide from her. She seemed kind, but looks could be deceiving in the world you lived in now.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” Carol shifted to sit on the floor, cross-legged. Her piercing blue eyes seemed to be sweetly picking you apart, analyzing you with a calmness that made you even more uncomfortable. “Alright.” She finally said as she climbed to her feet. “When you’re feeling more settled in, we can talk. I think you might find we have a lot in common.”

Taking two steps, she paused. She pursed her lips and picked up the pile of clothing. You thought she meant to take items back but she simply placed them on the small table across from the bed. With slow, deliberate movements, she turned down the blanket and fluffed the pillow. “Goodnight.” She smiled that soft smile and lifted the blanket, letting it fall behind her.

You waited what you thought might have been at least a couple of hours, well after the prison had gone quiet. With practiced silence, you snatched the blanket from the bed and pulled the sheet aside. No one seemed to be awake. Your bare feet hardly made a sound while padding across the ledge and down the stairs. You couldn’t stay in that cell a moment longer. Consequences be damned.

Daryl opened the door to the cellblock with seasoned care. The sun was barely up. Most everyone would still be asleep. He had caught a couple of hours after Carol had come to collect you, then he took the night watch to have some time outside to just think. His head had been a mess ever since you came tumbling into his life. Well, technically, he had put you there.

He didn’t regret it. You deserved to be free but you were now in a world where therapy and support groups didn’t exist. He had brought you to a prison full of traumatized people, hoping someone could help you get your head on straight. Hope. Did he really hope for anything anymore? It hadn’t really got him anywhere.

Still, he hoped you would settle in with the people there. He hoped you had found some sort of comfort with a small meal and an actual bed. He hoped you had slept well your first night. For someone who didn’t dare to hope, he was sure throwing a lot out there for you.

He didn’t even realize he had stopped to stare down toward the cells during his thoughts of you. Ready to slap himself, he scrubbed a hand over his face and then through his hair. Carol would have come to him if there had been any problems. The archer shook his head and continued toward his perch, ready to forego breakfast and get some actual sleep. If his brain would just shut the fuck up.

He climbed the stairs as quietly as possible, even as he heard the tell tale sounds of others beginning their day. They could all do without him for a few hours. Maybe if you were informed he was sleeping, you’d feel compelled to stay closer to the cells and not wander into his personal space.

Once again, hope had failed him. As he brought both boots down onto the metal floor of his perch, his shoulders slumped and he let his head drop back with a sound that could only be described as a frustrated groan.

You were there, curled up on a blanket below the foot of his mattress. Sound asleep.

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cowyolks · 1 year

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FORBIDDEN FRUIT

Chapter Three - The Forbidden Fruit

Chapter Two. Masterlist

Pairing: God! Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Female Reader

Prompt: A prophecy written long ago stated of a human that would become the God’s wife and live in his domain for the rest of eternity.

A/n: This took a little longer than it should have. I’m still getting used to people liking what I write lol. I promise the plot will get juicer as we go too. (And sexier)

“Take me away…”

It all happened so quickly.

You faintly remember the feeling of his arm against your middle back, steeling you close to him as you heard the angered roar of Shepherd.

“Shut your eyes.” He had ordered softly. You did as you were told. Even with no vision, you could see silvery light erupt against your closed lids.

Simon struck the ground with a faint crack, the ground morphing around the two of you as the earth swallowed you whole. The uncomfortable feeling of your lungs being constricted made your legs grow weak. With several wheezes of dusty air, you collapse against his body, feeling the coolness of his gloved palms hold you up under your lower back.

He held you steady as you coughed, letting you go as you caught onto your balance once again. A small chuckle left the back of his throat.

“Open your eyes.” His voice was soft, but strange. His words echoed in your head, but your ears didn’t recall the richness of his voice.

“I can hear, but you haven’t spoke.” You whimpered so lowly you could hardly understand yourself.

Carefully you peeled open your eyes, taking in your surroundings all around you. It looked to be a cave of some sort, with slanted rock and chilling air. To your right silver water lazily babbled as it swirled upon the glimmering banks. It illuminated the dark area quite well.

“You’re in my domain. I know when someone enters here. I can converse through their minds when needed—feel their emotions.” His voice whispered through your mind again.

“Your domain?” You turned to face him, watching his eerie skull shine brightly in a dim darkness. He stood a few feet back, his hands clasped behind his back, looking effortlessly lethal.

Before he could answer, a small splash alerted your attention, reluctantly you turned your eyes away from Simon, instead pinpointing them to a small gondala that swayed against the silver waters. The wood was old and graying, as if it would sink at any moment. But the way the man maneuvered an oar over the river had you impressed.

“Your Grace, I wasn’t expecting you back so early.”

Your Grace?

“Plans changed.” Simon brought his hand up, producing a couple gold coins out of thin air. Your brain would have contorted in confusion if it wasn’t already plummeted to mush.

The man held out his hand, just as Simon stepped forward and trickled the coins down into his palm. With a satisfied grin, the boatman bowed.

With eyes gleaming of yellow, the boatman turned to you. He was tall, but there was a significant curve of his back, as if he’d been rowing for his whole life. He was in a robe of graying material, looking to be quite old. A wide brimmed hat perched on his head, dark and worn. What was most startling was his face, his eyes a pale yellow and cheeks sunken. Yet a full goatee tickled at his lip.

“This is her?” His accent was strange, but not hostile.

“Yes.” Simon snapped, as if to stop him from saying more.

“Milady, welcome to the Underworld.” The boatman bowed politely, something you were accustom to since you were the Chieftess’ daughter.

“Underworld?” You questioned with a gulp, watching as the boatman glanced amusingly at Simon.

“I apologize, your grace. I figured you would have told her before bringing her here.”

Suddenly you felt cold.

“This is Charon, yet he prefers his mortal name of Nikolai.” Simon gritted out in irritation, though his eyes were soft as they met the features of your face. He tilted his head, likely catching onto the look of fear weakly-concealed upon your skin.

“I will tell you everything when we arrive to my home. For now, you will have to trust me, and know that I vow to protect you. Say you understand?” He reassured slowly, extending out his gloved hand for you to take.

“I understand…”

With a shaky step you placed your palm upon the chilling material of his glove, with his support, he eased you into the gondala.

Simon followed afterwards, standing behind you in the back of the boat— eyes scanning ahead.

“I suggest you sit in the middle, milady. Tis’ the stablest of seats.” Nikolai suggested, just as you sat upon the wood. Carefully you smoothed your dress, feeling the chill of the air upon the river.

“Thank you.” You squeaked out, just as Nikolai began to row, dipping his paddle into the silvery river. The air grew colder as the boat tore through the currents, making your hair stand upon your arms and your jaw to clench shut in fear of noisy chattering.

It didn’t help that the river was the color of freshly powdered snow, or it was. In other currents it was the dark color of a lagoon, wisps of blue floating among the surface.

Come, join us.

We beg for company.

Take a drink.

Unconsciously, you leant closer to the water, finding oasis in the whispers.

A strong hand settled on your bare skin of your collarbone, pulling you back into the middle of the boat. As if a switch was pulled, you became aware of Simon’s intense stare as he crouched down in front of your eyeline.

“Do not look at the water, sponsa mea. Wandering souls do not like to be mocked with the living.”

“What happened?” You grumbled, bringing your hand up to your aching head. The constant throb had increased throughout the time spent clueless.

“The passing of the River Styx is not to be taken lightly. Let alone by a mortal such as yourself. You’ve reached the border between the dead and living. The dead don’t take kindly to living souls on this side of the underworld.” Nikolai drawled.

Simon’s reached to unclasp his cloak, allowing the free flowing material to drape warmly over your shoulders. It helped fight the chilling fog, but did little to stop your soaring heart. It smelt intoxicating, like merlot wine you drank during the winter, among with hickory smoke and ancient cypress.

“Thank you.”

He nodded, rising again.

“Take the shortcut, Charon. I believe we’ve had enough surprises today. She may meet Cerberus another day.”

“Da, that seems for the best.”

It wasn’t long before a pier of silver and oak appeared from the distance, it made your queasy stomach turn in delight.

Finally, land.

Nikolai rowed to the structure, tying a slim rope in a knot upon the post. “Here we are, best of luck, Milady.” He titled his head down in a bow, just as you mumbled out a quiet thank you.

Simon stepped upon the pier, before gently offering you his hand like before. Clutching his gloved palm, you stepped out of the gondala and onto the wood, already feeling more relaxed.

“Your Grace…” Charon bowed low, before untying the knot and rowing into the foggy distance.

Simon turned to you, “Come. It is late.”

He swiveled and began to make his way down the long bridge. You grew puzzled after every step you took, as if this bridge became longer, until finally the two of you reached a plot of land. It was small, enclosed in marble fence.

Your eyes sparkled at the truly magnificent pomegranate tree that stood front and center. The leaves were a gorgeous green, which contrasted the dark cave-like ceiling. It made you wonder how such a tree could grow with no sunlight or rainwater.

The fruit was ripe and round, the ruby color shining amongst the branches that made you want to reach up and eat all the seeds.

“A gift, for you.” Simon spoke from behind you, just as you approached the strong trunk and felt the smooth bark upon your fingertips.

“Why for me?” You asked, feeling his darkening shadow upon your shorter body, his cloak that still covered your shoulders did little to stop your chill.

“I saw how you lived. How you never had joy in the form of gifts, you never got to be a child, or feel any sort of freedom. I offer you an alternative.”

You cocked your head to the side, turning to watch him flex his shoulder high in the air, plucking a ruby fruit from the branches.

“This is a symbol of me, the pomegranate tree and seeds represent death, fertility, strong bonds.” His hands flexed, breaking the fruit in half. The red stained his hands, the juice of the fruit looking more of blood than sweet nectar.

“You’re mortal. I’ve shown myself to you, gave you the first bite of my kingdom. Of Death and life, yet here you stand, still before me. If you are to stay, if you are to be under my protection, it comes with a price.”

He plucked a single seed from the fruit, dropping the rest to the black soil.

He held it out to you, and slowly he dropped the seed in your palm.

“One month. Spend one month with me and I can show you how truly wonderful it is to be alive.”

You furrowed your brows, it was ironic that someone who reeked of death offered you this promise. Your stare found his through the skull mask. It was intense and powerful, flooded with mysterious possibilities.

You didn’t even speak, yet his voice trailed through your mind again. He was temptation, and you felt the pull of his offer. A chuckle echoed in your mind.

“Eat the seed.”

You brought the fruit to your mouth, placing it between your teeth before crunching on the soft flesh.

Then there was darkness.

Next Chapter

Tags: @queenqu33f @blueoorchid @lethalchiralium @eclipse-darling @galagcica @dead-noodles @agspgrwasb @toobsessedsstuff @mooniesyubi @cookielovesbook-akie @vile-villain6661 @peachlcve @soldier-lass @ghostslittlegf @rebel-soldat @erintaro @zomb1edoll @ghost-with-a-teacup @fante-di-denari @kuwizo @sollucifer @embers-of-alluring @icepancakes @bangirl134

Sorry if I missed anyone! This is the hardest part of the fic lol <3

#cod #call of duty modern warfare #modern warfare #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader

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zenkindoflove · 17 days

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Taste of You - Eris x Male!OC Oneshot

Rating: NSFW, E

Status: Oneshot, ~2,200 words

Summary: Eris and his mate Alexius are on a tour of Autumn. Alexius is feeling cooped up in the carriage and Eris has an idea of how to release some tension. Eris x Male!OC. PWP. Eris x Alexius. Erixius

A/N: This little brain worm hit me. I, of course, have been influenced by the Bridgerton carriage scene like everyone else, and I wanted to do my own rendition for my boys. This is a bit filthy, just so you know.

Shamelessly tagging you if you are an Erixius reader or liked the post I made about writing this fic: @crazy-ache, @lucienarcheron, @teddyhoneybear, @animezinglife, @clockwork-ashes, @castielspelvis , @summerbummin , @works-of-heart , @julesofvolterra , @the-darkestminds , @secret-third-thing , @tilseptemberends , @constantsins , @comeonladiesitstime2yearn

READ ON AO3 or read under the cut | Masterlist for more Erixius

Alexius peeked out from behind the carriage curtain to look out the window again. He sighed. Still endless autumnal woods. He was hoping they would pass through an open valley so he could see the treetops down below, but they had been on this road for three hours now which was flanked on both sides by rows and rows of tree trunks.

“Is all of this really necessary?” he groaned. “I still don’t understand why we couldn’t just winnow to each town.”

Eris sighed dramatically, “I’ve told you a hundred times. The pageantry of the carriage passing through the countryside is a part of tradition for the farmers and small village folk. They expect to see the carriage when the High Lord is on tour.”

Alexius snatched the curtain back, the carriage dimming once more.

“Are you going to be pissy this entire trip?” Eris asked, sitting with his legs crossed as he held his nose up at Alexius in stern judgment.

“You know how I hate riding in these things,” Alexius snapped. “It’s claustrophobic. I don’t see why I can’t ride on one of the horses alongside.”

“Because you are the High Lord’s mate,” Eris growled. “You do not lower yourself to riding beside the carriage. It’s important, more than ever, for you to be seen alongside me, always.”

Alexius rolled his eyes, although he understood that Eris was right. The more conservative parts of Autumn were not happy that their High Lord was refusing to marry their eligible daughters. Autumn had never had a High Lord who had a male consort sitting next to the crown, and certainly not one who he was mated to. It was Eris’ mission, rather than to hide Alexius away, to parade him around the court and show everyone just how serious he was about his mate serving in what he said was Alexius’ rightful place. This tour was the prequel to the elaborate affair we had planned for their mating ceremony and wedding. Eris refused to live in the shadows. Which Alexius loved him for, of course. But it still didn’t mean he appreciated being locked in a cramped box all day as it bumped up and down along the rocky roads.

Eris leaned in close, his nose grazing the shell of Alexius’ ear. His signature scent of cloves and campfire filled Alexius’ nose as Alexius sucked in a shaky breath. Goosebumps prickled along his side, and he tilted his head to allow Eris further access.

“I think you’re tense,” he said. “You have a lot of pent-up frustrations that you need to release.”

“Perhaps,” Alexius replied, leaning back into his seat, and extending his arm behind Eris’ back. Eris’ breath tickled his neck as he ran his face down to Alexius’ shoulder. “You have been awfully busy on this tour. You’ve barely shown me any attention.”

Eris bit down on the muscle of Alexius’ shoulder, pulling aside his tunic to give him better access. Alexius clamped his teeth around his bottom lip, spreading his thighs to get comfortable. He had a feeling he knew where this might go.

Eris sucked his way up Alexius’ neck again as he ran his hand down his chest. Alexius was instantly hard, his cock always a heated glance away from stiffening when he was in his mate’s presence.

“Have I been ignoring my mate?” Eris purred, licking his tongue against the lobe of Alexius’ ear. “You know I have a lot of duties. I can’t spend my time trying to seduce you.”

“Who says I need much seduction,” Alexius replied. And Eris moved his hand lower, gripping Alexius’ erection through his trousers.

“It appears you don’t,” he chuckled darkly. “You want to tell your High Lord why you’re so hard in his carriage right now.”

Alexius gripped onto the bar above his head as Eris stroked him over his pants. His brain was fuzzy with the sensations, both against his shaft and Eris sucking on his pulse point, hard enough that he knew it would leave a mark.

“Maybe it’s like you said. I’ve been pent-up for days with no one to touch me.”

“Curious,” Eris said as he undid the laces of Alexius’ trousers. “I distinctly remember fucking you not two days ago.”

Alexius was enraptured at the way Eris pulled his cock out, stroking him immediately. A bead of precum leaked out of his tip, his foreskin spreading the lubrication around.

“You’ll have to refresh my memory,” Alexius panted, throwing his head back as Eris nibbled his ear once more.

Eris’ voice was as smooth as silk as he whispered in Alexius’ ear, continuing to stroke him in a steady rhythm. “What I remember is flipping you ass up in that dreadful bed with those low thread-count sheets.”

Alexius barked out a laugh and Eris laughed with him, his chuckle bouncing off his skin. They had complained about that for days at their last stop.

Eris stroked him faster, squeezing him harder as he growled in Alexius’ ear. “And then I rimmed your ass until you were begging me to fuck you.”

Alexius moaned as he bucked his hips, remembering the way that it felt as Eris licked him greedily. Eris loved his ass. He loved squeezing it and spanking it and he especially loved running his tongue against his hole, teasing him until he was dripping all over those terrible sheets.

“You were so eager for it,” his soft lips pressed against Alexius’ jaw as he sped up his pace. “You’re always so eager for my cock, aren’t you, mate?”

Alexius gripped the bar harder, “I love feeling your cock inside of me.”

“And you loved it that night too,” Eris continued. “When I pressed my head inside of you, you pushed back to take all of me. Like the desperate little slut that you are.”

“Fuck,” Alexius groaned, throwing his head back against the wall of the carriage. A surge of electric pleasure shot through him, centering at the base of his cock as he felt his shaft twitch in anticipation. “Gods, Eris, I’m so close.”

Eris immediately dropped his head into Alexius’ lap, his tongue lapping at the underside of his cock as he pounded his fist around it faster. He sucked his head between his lips, just in time to catch his load, swallowing the hot streams that he shot into the back of his throat. Eris always liked to taste him, finding any excuse he could. Alexius palmed the back of his head, his fingers gripping the red strands he had grown out. He thrusted into Eris’ mouth as his orgasm simmered down to a low hum.

Eris sat up again, looking all too pleased with himself. He leaned forward and kissed Alexius, diving his tongue inside so that Alexius could taste his lingering flavor too. He gripped Eris by his neck, a new rush of arousal flowing through him. He took over the dominance of the kiss, pushing Eris back into the corner of the carriage as he climbed on top of him. Straddling his thighs. He gripped Eris’ neck as he devoured his mouth, their lips and tongues lashing at one another. He could feel Eris’ large erection pressing into his thigh and when he pulled back, Eris gnashed his teeth at him as he hissed in frustrated desire.

Alexius dropped to his knees on the carriage floor, kneeling in front of Eris.

“Does my High Lord not like me on my knees?” he asked, impressing coyness into his tone.

“It depends on what you intend to do down there,” Eris spread his legs wide so that Alexius could settle between his thighs. Alexius traced the curve of Eris’ erection with the tip of his finger, earning him a grumbling purr from deep in Eris’ chest.

“Only to serve you, my High Lord,” he replied, unlacing the front of his breeches. Eris lifted his hips as Alexius pulled down, Eris’ cock springing out of the confines. Alexius always took a moment to admire his cock. It was the prettiest cock he had ever seen. Girthy and long, with a curved tip that hit him in all the right spots when he pounded into him. And sometimes, when Alexius fucked him, he liked how it felt heavy and hard in his hand while he jerked him off in tandem with his thrusts.

“How would you like me to serve you?” he asked, flicking his tongue out to lick at the curve under Eris’ throbbing head. Eris rested one of his arms across the backrest of their carriage seat and grabbed the bar with his other. He stared back at him with possessive power in his eyes.

“With your throat,” Eris’ chest rose and fell with his words. “I want you to take me deep, until you can’t take me anymore.”

Alexius didn’t need to be told twice. He sank his lips around Eris’ massive cock, taking him as far into his throat as he could before he felt himself gag and tears prick his eyes. He pulled back up, sucking Eris with vigor as he stroked him at his base. He bobbed up and down, descending further each time to ease him back into his throat. He focused on relaxing, opening himself up to more of Eris. He felt his throat constrict around his tip and Eris sucked in a breath. So far, Eris had remained still, keeping his hands high as he let Alexius set the pace and rhythm. Alexius knew that wouldn’t do, so he slowed down his movements, making sure his tongue ran along his cock in a slow tease to entice him.

It worked because soon he felt Eris’ hand at the base of his scalp as he snarled through clenched teeth, “You’re being cheeky aren’t you, mate?”

Alexius continued his slow movements, coaxing Eris to take control and fuck his face.

Eris gripped the hair at the back of his head tightly, just enough that the roots burned. He then pushed his head lower and brought him back up again until Alexius moved with his pace. Eris lifted his hips off the seat, bucking into his mouth. Soon they were moving at a frantic pace and Alexius could feel Eris losing control.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Eris said with a breathy sigh. “Gods, no one has ever sucked me off like you.”

He held on tight to Eris’ thighs as he bobbed his head faster, sucking Eris’ cock like his cum was nectar from the gods themselves. And for him, it was. He used his hand for the final strokes, flicking his tongue over his tip in a way that he knew would push Eris over the edge.

“Fuck,” Eris cried out as he pushed Alexius’ head deeper into his lap. Alexius took all of him in as Eris’ cum filled his mouth. The thick fluid slid down his throat, and when he felt the last spurt, he held it against his tongue.

Eris was disheveled, panting with his arms and legs spread wide open as he gripped onto the walls of the carriage. Alexius crawled up his body, urging him to open his mouth with a nudge of his nose. Eris did so eagerly, awaiting Alexius’ deposit. Alexius plunged his tongue into Eris’ mouth, Eris’ cum coating them both as Eris groaned and quivered in abject pleasure.

After they both swallowed, Eris grabbed Alexius to pull him into a fierce kiss. Alexius sank into Eris’ lap, feeling every bit of him that he could touch.

The carriage rolled over a large bump, jolting them in the seat and Alexius was tossed sideways, landing on the floor of the carriage.

“Is everything alright, my Lord?” The carriage driver called from the front.

Alexius burst into laughter at the way Eris’ eyes widened, as if he just remembered where they were.

“It’s fine,” Eris shouted back. “Try to avoid those next time.”

“Yes, my High Lord,” the carriage driver replied. “Only half a mile more, and we will arrive.”

Alexius was still laughing as he pulled himself back into the seat. They both tucked themselves back into their pants and started to lace their breeches back up.

“You seem happier,” Eris remarked as he straightened his clothes.

Alexius sighed as he looked around the carriage. The curtains were made of the finest, burgundy fabric, draping over the walls and the windows. The seats were black leather with elegant, embroidered upholstery decorating the arms and the headrest. He pulled back the curtain again and hung it on the hook so that it would stay open, revealing the passing view. It really was an exquisite carriage.

“I’ve decided that riding in the carriage isn’t so bad,” he replied, turning his head to flash his dazzling smile at his mate.

Eris rolled his eyes and shook his head, but a hint of a smile remained on his face as he returned Alexius’ gaze. “Good, because we are visiting 5 more towns after this one.”

Alexius groaned as he collapsed against Eris’ shoulder, snuggling in close as their joyful laughs bounced off the walls of the carriage.

#eris vanserra #eris vanserra x oc #eris x male oc #eris x oc #eris x alexius #eris acotar #erixius #acotar fanfiction #eris vanserra fanfic #eris vandaddy

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scribeofwinchesters · 3 months

Text

Secrets and Lies: Chapter 11 - Rope

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Word Count: 4,660

Summary: “You look at her like that again and I will make sure you die screaming."

Series Rating: Explicit/18+ TW: Rape/Non-con

Previous chapters:

One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Sevenandahalf Eight Nine Ten

A/N: Definitely recommend catching up or re-reading before this chapter since we have some callbacks to chapter 1 here. Thank you all for showing me so much support after being gone for so long <3 This might be my personal favorite chapter yet :) Most of it's been written for years but had lots of rewrites and edits as I worked through it and came back to it again and again during my hiatus, so if there's anything that doesn't connect or track, please DM me so I can fix it! I've reread it like eight times, though, so I think we're good... I hope you all like it and if my story makes you feel something, reblogs, comments, asks, etc are very welcome <3 as always, link to AO3 if you prefer.

Tag list: @lauraashley93 @stoneyggirl2 @tiggytaylor @park-simphwa

You yanked hard on the door and sure enough, the door drug across the jamb and you had to give it a second hard pull to get it fully open. As soon as it was free Dean was right there, gun pointed ahead of him as he let his eyes adjust before quickly clearing the area to the left and the right. Just as planned you were directly behind him, gripping your gun but keeping it pointed safely toward the ground.

The interior was completely dark except for rows and columns of sporadically blinking green and orange lights to the left. As Dean stepped in, you followed, remaining so close to him that you could literally feel your breath warming his neck. Dean should’ve known better than to exaggerate when telling you to do something that you didn’t want to do. He took another careful step inside and reached along the wall for a light switch.

As he did, there was suddenly a soft tumble of footsteps and Dean deftly reached behind him to grip your arm and pull you along with him as he ducked to the right, pressing you safely between him and the wall.

The shadowy form of a person was visible somewhere ahead of Dean, outlined by the blinking lights. It was wielding some kind of weapon that you couldn't make out in the darkness until it glinted in the light and you could see the flash of a long, sharp point. The figure darted into the darkness and from somewhere across the room you heard a deep, stifled scream.

Dean gripped his gun with both hands and aimed it at each corner of the room, hoping to catch sight of some kind of movement.

You shifted your handgun to one hand and silently pulled your silver blade from its holster and gripped it tightly. You scrapped it along the wall, using it’s extra length to find your mark. After a short moment it caught on the switch and the room was flooded with a dull, fluorescent haze; the bulbs flickered and buzzed faintly before steadying on.

Momentarily blinded by the sudden light, you narrowed your eyes and squinted as they adjusted.

You peeked around Dean as you sheathed your blade. Your stomach dropped.

There, in the middle of the room, was Sam. He was tied up in a chair, ropes tight around his wrists and ankles and mouth. He’d been stripped down to nothing but his boxers and socks and there was blood splattered on the ground beneath him. Sam had a black eye and a horrific mixture of blood and sweat dripped from his forehead. He had a handful of cuts and gashes across his chest. He caught sight of you and your eyes locked together. The marble pinged against your insides again as you saw Sam’s bloodshot eyes glisten with tears. Your heart caught in your throat and you could feel yourself forgetting to breathe.

Sam glanced to his left, drawing your eyes away from him.

You froze.

Standing in the dark corner, just a few steps away from Sam, was the last thing you expected to see...

It was...

you?

Not current you... but clean, moisturized, fresh-faced, hair-brushed-and-styled-with-the-perfect-flounce-you-could-never-quite-achieve-despite-many-frustrating-hours-spent-fussing-over-it… you.

It was fully dressed in clothes that looked like something you’d wear if you had time to put thought into your outfits, and to top it off, she was wearing Sam’s wellworn green jacket and a blue flannel and something about that made your stomach churn. It held a long, jagged blade comfortably in it’s outstretched arm as it grinned and you pulled yourself back behind Dean as you tried to catch your breath.

“ ‘Bout time you guys joined the party,” it said cheerfully and took a careful step toward Sam. It was bizarre hearing your voice come from another person… thing… it.

“That’s close enough,” Dean warned as he pointed his gun at the shifter.

“Oh, Dean,” it said as it suddenly dropped and rolled skillfully behind Sam. Dean fired his gun at the movement but missed the target, leaving a small smoking circle in the machinery. You jerked at the sudden sound and took a moment before taking in a deep, stabalizing breath.

“Come on, after the last few days, Dean, stuck at home with… me,” it smirked as it slowly crouched over Sam and held the jagged blade to Sam’s throat. “The sad, pathetic thing you rescued from purgatory,” she mocked with an exaggerated pout. “Listening to her whining, holding her as she cried, falling asleep on the couch as you held her… we both know you were dying to put a bullet in both of your heads just to get the pathetic misery to end.”

You studied the back of Dean’s head, imagining the furious expression flashing across his face.

The shifter pulled the edge of it’s blade through Sam’s sweat-slicked hair, causing the tip to graze against his check and scalp, just light enough to not break the skin. Sam flinched reflexivly and squeezed his eyes shut. The shifter sneered at Dean for a moment before catching your eyes as you peaked over Dean’s shoulder.

It smiled and narrowed its eyes at you as it licked it’s tongue across it’s teeth. “Looking a little rough there, sister. My brother got a few good hits in at least. Tell me, how far did he get before you noticed? One finger? Two? Balls deep?” It laughed.

“Stop it,” Dean seethed.

“Oh, sweetheart,” the shifter sneered as it pressed the blade ever so slightly against Sam’s throat, drawing beads of blood to the surface. Sam winced and you felt the rage building inside of you. It took every ounce of control you had to stay put.

You locked eyes with Sam as tears spilled from his wide, horror-filled eyes. The throbbing ache in your cheek was a painful reminder of earlier that night and you watched as his eyes drifted over it.

The shifter crouched down again and licked Sam’s ear while looking at you. “Am I doing it right?” it asked before brushing your… its fingers through Sam’s hair and jostling his head around simply for the sake of reminding you who was in charge.

“That’s what you asked the first time you put Sammy’s cock in your mouth, isn’t it?” it drawled right into his ear, its eyes still locked on you.

Your heart raced, and you squeezed your eyes shut as the throbbing ache in your cheek worsened from your rapid pulse. You rested a palm against Dean’s shoulder to steady yourself as you felt yourself losing balance. All you could think about was rage. But for Sam’s sake you couldn’t let its taunts get the better of you. That was easier said than done.

“You look at her like that again and I will make sure you die screaming,” Dean bellowed as he stepped fully in front of you, blocking you completely from the shifters view and sadly, from Sam. “Your brother went quick. Couple silver bullets and he was down. When I’m done with you you’ll be begging for a bullet, do you hear me?”

You heard a brief squelching sound and something heavy and wet spilled to the ground.

“I needed to catch up,” Sam sneered.

But it wasn’t Sam. It was the shifter, transformed now, into Sam.

“Mmmm, that’s some sweet, sweet pain and guilt, Sammy,” the shifter hummed. “Delicious..."

It pressed the knife further into Sam’s neck. Sam grimaced as the blood dribbled down his neck. All you could hear was Sam grunting in pain.

“Your gun,” it said.

Dean dropped the gun, letting it swing from his pointer finger as he spread his arms.

“Cut the crap. What do you want?” Dean asked.

“I told him not to go after you Winchester’s,” it spat. “But he insisted.”

“Refresh my memory, would ya? What did we do to you anyway? We haven’t hunted a shifter in years.”

You could hear Sam breathing rapidly as he tried and failed to catch his breath.

“Charisse.”

Dean hesitated. “Who the fuck is Charisse,” he asked under his breath.

“The witch… from the other day… my last hunt with Sam,” you whispered.

Dean gave you a small nod without breaking eye contact with the shifter.

“Since when do shifters and witches work together?” Dean asked.

“Please, Dean… we both know you don’t care,” the shifter replied.

Dean shrugged again. “Eh… normally you’d be right, I don’t really care what you monsters get up to when you’re not hurting people. But a witch and shifters working together? Well, that’s not something I’ve ever seen before.”

“Charisse was like a mother to us,” the shifter said as he stood, still holding the blade to Sam’s throat. “She fed us and took care of us and gave us advice about moving through the world as monsters that people like us never get. And in return we helped her… well, pay the bills…,”

“So you were thieves,” Dean said.

You silently crouched and glanced around Dean, desperate for a view. You caught sight of the shifter standing above Sam. The grip on its blade had loosened as it spoke. The top of Sam’s head reached just beneath the neck of the shifter but in Sam’s frame, with his broad shoulders, there was a clear shot; a small shot, but a clear one.

As you stood, hidden behind Dean, and his open jacket which added several inches to his frame, you took advantage of the cover to check that the safety on your gun was released.

“Don’t move,” you whispered so that only Dean could hear you.

“So mommy dearest bites the big one and your brother decides to get revenge,,” Dean vamped to keep the shifter distracted. “You both came to this town and got up to no good in order to draw out Sam. But brother got dead and now it all rests on your shoulders. Did I miss anything?” Dean asked, taunting the shifter.

As he spoke you slowly, carefully and silently turned so that your back was to Dean’s and aimed your gun forward, ignoring the throbbing in your cheek. You were going to have to move quickly or the shifter would get the drop and… and… well, that didn’t matter because it wasn’t going to happen. Your took a deep, steadying breath.

As the shifter began to reply you swiftly and carefully spun around on one foot, ready to aim your gun at the shifter’s head.

It looked and sounded every bit like Sam and if it weren’t for the fact that he was sitting right there that may have given you pause. You aimed and without a whisper of hesitation, fired off a single silver round into its head. It dropped the blade, sending it cascading across Sam’s front before clattering to the ground. The shifter stumbled backwards and Dean made a break for it, crossing the room in several long strides as you dropped your gun and sprinted to Sam.

Dean pinned the shifter down with his knee digging into its back as he pulled its arms behind its back and bound them tightly at the wrists. It was unnecessary, though, it was as dead as the one you’d left at the bunker.

“Nice shot,” Dean said as he examined the thing. For the second time in just a few hours Dean had to deal with the lifeless and bloodied body of his brother.

You stood over Sam and leaned over him, your fingers trembled with adrenaline as you fumbled with the knot on the rope between Sam’s lips.

“Y/n,” Sam whispered between his panicked breaths the second his mouth was free. You crouched down in front of him as you deftly cut the ropes off his wrists and ankles, hardly pulling your eyes away from his for more than half a second.

You looked him over as he stood carefully. In addition to the blackeye he was bruised on his thighs and abdomen and there were deep, red rashes around his wrists and ankles. Sam’s eyes hung on you but he wasn’t looking into your eyes. He was examining you, studying whatever it was that Dean saw in the car earlier that made him wince.

Without even thinking, you found yourself pulling your silver blade from your boot. “I’m… I’m sorry,” you said. “But I have to.”

He nodded and pulled his hand into a fist as he held his arm out. Sam watched your eyes as you swiped the blade across his arm, drawing out a thin trail of blood. He winced and inhaled sharply, all the while never peeling his eyes away from you.

You let out the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. It was Sam. It was really Sam. You dropped your blade to the ground with a clatter.

While you wanted nothing more than to leap into his arms and wrap yourself around him, to cling to him, you were still unsure of everything. You stopped short of a hug and instead stood there like an idiot, frozen, as you stared up at him. You had to remind yourself to breathe, again. He stared down at you, holding your gaze now, before briefly glancing to the side of your face and back.

Dean picked up your gun and blade before giving the room a quick once-over. The electronic components, flashing green and orange, were kept to one side, opposite of the desk.

Sam caught your eyes lingering on the pile of rope and the blood spatters around the chair and pulled you to him. You wrapped your arms around his waist and inhaled deeply as he rested his chin on the top of your head. “I’m okay,” he whispered.

You felt your insides return as he held you. Your heart and lungs and thoughts all fell back into place, stopping the pinging marble in its tracks as the walls crumbled. The marble, with one last ping, lodged into your heart. You were whole again… mostly.

“God, Sam,” you said, fighting back your sobs. “I… I-”

He brushed his hands over your hair and tenderly shushed you. “I’m here,” he said softly.

“Is it dead?” Sam asked Dean, his tone hard as he continued stroking his palms carefully over you. You caught Dean giving Sam a small, silent nod as you pulled away, ready to not spend another second in this place. Dean handed you your gun and knife which you quickly put away.

Dean stood to the side of the door, ushering you and Sam out before flipping the light switch and pushing the door shut behind him.

Dean lead you all back to the Impala, his eyes scanned the area like clockwork as you all made a beeline for the car. You climbed into the front seat, the safety of the Impala enveloping you as you finally relaxed and your shoulders dropped. Dean quickly looked around as Sam climbed in the back. Dean started up the engine, it’s gentle rumble surely waking at least one person in the nearby houses.

In less than fifteen minutes Dean had you all back at the motel.

“We’re not going back to the bunker?” Sam asked.

Dean shook his head and glanced at Sam in the rearview mirror. “We need Cass to check the warding. It’s not safe.”

Sam looked at you and then back at Dean. “The… the bunker?”

Sam shut his eyes and took a deep breath. He wanted to know more but the hesitation from you and Dean to say more made him scared to ask. He slowly opened his eyes and his gaze fell upon you and you could see in the rearview mirror the tears glistening in his eyes again. You had never seen him look so vulnerable: half-naked, no weapon, fighting back tears. You wanted to kill the shifter all over again. You bit at the inside of your lip, worried that it might start to dawn on him what had happened. It’s not that you didn’t want him to know. You just weren’t ready to deal with it. And as long as Sam didn’t know, you could almost pretend that it hadn’t happened. Almost.

Dean nodded curtly as he cut the engine and climbed out of the car. Sam’s eyes narrowed as he stared distantly ahead.

“Stay here,” he said to Sam as you climbed out of the car, too. You raised an eyebrow to Dean. “I’ll be right back,” he added to Sam.

Dean, ever the over-protector, was now made even worse. He followed you to the door and once again, checked the entire place over.

“Dean,” you sighed.

“Not up for debate,” he said, repeating himself from earlier, his eyes still studying every inch of the room as he avoided your gaze.

“I’m not saying you can’t be protective but you’re not my security guard. There isn’t a monster in every closet,” you said.

His nostrils flared as he stood in the doorway, silent for a moment, before turning back to you. “What happened… tonight,” he inhaled deeply, “...will never happen again. I won’t let it,” he finished as he swallowed hard. “Not even for a single second will I let you go through something even remotely close to that ever again.”

You stood there in the middle of the room, too shattered and exhausted to argue with him. This was exactly what you had been trying to avoid that night all that time ago when Cass manipulated Sam’s memory.

“What are you gonna tell him?” you asked as you choked back your emotions.

“Enough to catch him up,” Dean said as he turned away and headed back to the Impala.

He left the motel door open and climbed back into the Impala. Sam watched you from the backseat. You locked eyes for a brief second as Dean twisted to face Sam and rested his arm on the backseat.

You stepped away from his line of sight, not prepared to handle what Sam’s reaction might be. As they talked, you kicked off your boots and jeans and slipped out of your flannel before climbing into the already unmade bed, leaving the fresh bed for Dean. You left half the bed for Sam, though you weren’t sure if he’d take it. Sure, he’d been emotional and comforted you, that still didn’t mean he’d forgiven you.

You cozied up under the blankets and shut your eyes, desperate to fall asleep, though you weren’t sure what you’d find when you got there. More importantly, however, if you were asleep then you didn’t have to talk with Sam. You inhaled deeply as you nestled your face into the pillow. It smelled faintly like Sam and the longing for him slowly began building back up inside of you. You felt a single tear slip down, leaving a wet circle on the fabric.

Dean’s booted stomps sounded as he crossed the threshold, followed by Sam’s silent, shoeless scuffles. You half wondered if he’d brought any other shoes with him but that was a problem for tomorrow. One of them flipped the lights off. Sam paused at the edge of the bed for a moment and you could hear him quietly breathing as he watched you. A beat passed before he continued to the bathroom and shut the door. Dean pulled the string on his bedside lamp, providing him with enough light so that he could walk about the room but not disturb you. Seconds later you heard the pipes squeak and water rushing as Sam turned on the shower.

You carefully opened one eye just a sliver and watched as Dean grabbed the ice bucket from the dinette table and left, this time pulling the door quietly shut behind him. He returned moments later. You listened as the locks clicked and Dean slid the chain lock into place. He sat in the dinette chair and peeled open one of the empty plastic bucket liners. He scooped ice into it and tied a knot at the top, sealing it closed. The chair quietly scraped across the floor as he stood up and pushed it back. You could feel his presence looming over you, blocking out the light of his lamp on the other side of the room.

“I know you’re not asleep,” he whispered.

You huffed and gently bit at your lip before opening your eyes. “What gave me away?”

“Scooch,” he said. You turned carefully and painfully onto your back and pushed yourself back just enough for him to sit beside you on the bed.

As the adrenaline began to wear off, the pain of the near suffocation you'd endured back at the bunker was beginning to set in. Your chest ached deep down to the bottom of your lungs and you kept your breath short to avoid the sharp, stabbing pain that came when you inhaled too deeply.

Dean lifted the ice bag and slowly pressed the bag against the right side of your face, eliciting a hiss from you as it stung your tender skin. You reached up and placed your hand over Dean’s who pulled his away, letting you take over. You held it there as he watched you.

“I’m gonna get the first aid kit,” he said as he stood back up.

“What for?” you asked.

“Um, your face,” Dean said as he wrinkled his brows.

“Is it that bad?” you asked as he squatted down to pull it from one of the side pockets of his bag.

“You haven’t looked?” he asked as he made his way back over to you and sat down. You shook your head slightly, the ice clinking along to each movement. He studied your expression before nodding. He kicked his boots off and leaned over. You let your hand fall as he pulled the ice bag back.

“Can’t see,” he muttered as he reached over and pulled the string of your bedside lamp, illuminating your side of the room. He straightened up and zipped open the first aid kit to pull several items out.

You glanced down and watched as Dean fussed over his tools. A little bottle of clear liquid caught your eye and inexplicably made your stomach drop.

“Not rubbing alcohol, Dean… please,” you said quietly, shocked at yourself as tears stung the corner of your eyes. You just couldn’t… hurt, anymore. Not tonight. You’d had enough.

“Don’t be a baby,” he said before catching your pained expression. “Sorry,” he whispered quickly. “It’s not alcohol,” he said, shaking the little bottle. “It’s like antiseptic or something.” He shrugged.

You took a deep breath and looked away. Dean took that as his sign to continue. “Can you sit up a little?” he asked.

You pushed yourself up and jutted your head forward. He held the washcloth beneath the cut.

“Look up,” he said. You did as he asked. He squeezed the bottle’s liquid across your cheek, into your cut, cleansing it. The washcloth caught most of the runoff, but some did escape and run down your neck, slicking it. He pulled the washcloth away and refolded it to get to a dry edge and dabbed it gently along your check. You stared at a random spot on the wall as he worked. He returned the bottle to the pouch and pulled out an ointment tube which he squeezed onto a cotton swab and swiped it across your cut as gently as he could manage.

“This is deep, y/n. I’m gonna have to stitch it in the morning,” he said as he pulled the wound tightly shut with two butterfly bandages. You grimaced at the thought.

“Done,” he said with a gentle smile as he returned everything to the kit and zipped it up.

The roar of the shower cut off and there was the familiar scrape of the shower hooks across the curtain rod as Sam exited the shower.

“Thanks,” you wheezed as you looked down and fiddled with your fingers.

Dean cleared his throat. “Can I… do you need anything?”

You shrugged as you locked eyes with him. “Water, I guess? And every breath hurts from when... And sleep, but… I’m also, I mean, I’m a little afraid… to sleep. Don’t know what I’ll…,” you trailed off.

Dean glanced away and seemed to think for a moment. He left your side only to quickly return with the stainless steel water jug and a plastic cup from the motel. He filled it with water and handed it to you. As you sipped the water he returned to the first aid kit and pulled out a small plastic bag with two large white pills in it. Dean handed them to you and you let them roll over in your palm as you tried to guess what they were.

“They’ll conk you out,” he explained. “And Sam and I will be right here the entire time. You don’t have to worry,” he assured you.

“I never worry about that,” you said, giving him a lopsided smile.

He frowned and took a deep breath. You wanted to tell him not to do that, that he had done everything he could and what happened wasn’t his fault, but you just didn’t have the energy. You swallowed the pills and finished the water. Dean refilled the cup and set it on the bedside table. You shifted onto your side, your injured cheek faced up, and got comfortable under the covers as Dean turned the lamp back off. He picked up the bag of ice and placed it gently back over your cheek.

You were just beginning to drift off when you heard the bathroom door open followed by the quiet footsteps of Sam making his way to his bag to rummage for clean clothes. He returned moments later and climbed into bed beside you. It was quiet for a moment but you could feel his presence as he leaned over you, examining your face in the pale light.

“Did I miss anything?” he whispered to Dean.

“Just bandaged her up a little,” Dean whispered from his bed. “And gave her the good stuff to help her sleep.”

“Maybe I should go to a pharmacy and get some real ice packs,” Sam thought aloud.

“It’s four in the morning. There’s nothing open for over a hundred miles,” Dean reminded him.

“I’m sure I could break into a doctor's office or something in this Podunk town,” Sam said. The bed creaked as he leaned back against his pillow.

“Okay, simmer down, John Dillinger,” Dean teased. “It wouldn’t make enough of a difference to be worth it. Gonna have to stitch it up in the morning regardless. What about you? You good?"

"Yeah," Sam whispered. "Nothing deeper than surface level."

You wanted to move, to curve to Sam, or ask him to hold you, but the drugs Dean gave you were strong and were quickly taking over every muscle in your body, including your tongue and lips, and thankfully your aching lungs.

“Get some sleep, Sammy,” Dean whispered. Dean’s bed creaked and you slipped your eyes open a crack to see him turning onto his side, squeezing his pillow against his face. He hadn’t even bothered to change out of his jeans and flannel. You couldn’t see it but knowing Dean the hand under his pillow was resting over his Colt. He reached over and turned off the bedside lamp.

Sam leaned over in the darkness and pressed his lips gently to your temple. You sighed as you fought tooth and nail against the drugs for more seconds with Sam, scared that in the morning, or when you were better, Sam would be gone again. Your body was so heavy you felt like you were going to sink into the mattress.

He pushed toward you, pressing his body carefully against yours and found your hand. He grasped it in his and with everything you had left, before giving into the heaviness and slipping under, you squeezed it, desperate to let him know you were there and aware and so grateful for every moment with him. He laced his fingers with yours and pulled your hand along with his to your heart, wrapping you in him like you were a gift and he was the bow.

The message had been received.

EDIT: Chapter 12

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e-dubbc11 · 1 year

Text

Out of Left Field

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, a tiny bit of violence but not really, drunk fan, a couple swear words, fluffy bunnies and unicorns

Word Count: 1.8k-ish

Summary: You’re attending a baseball game with a friend and you weren’t expecting to meet a tall handsome stranger.

A/N: This is part of the Thirsty for Cox writing challenge for the month of June. The prompt was “Hey, is that guy bothering you?” It was difficult to NOT set this one at a bar because let’s be honest, that’s the most likely place someone would use that line, amirite? 🤣 Anyway, I hope you like it! 💕

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

“These are great seats! How did you score these?” Your friend Jackie, asked.

When your stepfather said he had four tickets to the Yankee game this weekend, you jumped at the chance to go.

It was the beginning of June, sunny with a few fluffy white clouds slowly moving across the bright blue sky and thankfully the hot summer weather hadn’t arrived yet so it was still just warm and dry.

A perfect day for baseball.

Sitting on the first base line, you’ve never been this close before. The warm early afternoon sun kissed the high points of your face as you took in the view.

You were only three rows back from the on-deck circle and could smell the sunscreen the players had on as they waited for their turn at-bat.

“A client gave them to my stepfather and he couldn’t go so he offered them to me. We have these four seats so we don’t have to worry about anyone sitting next to us.” You told her.

Suddenly, you felt a pinch in your side.

“OW!! What did you do that for?!” You yelled and glared at her.

“Oh I didn’t pinch you that hard, listen…really hot guy checking YOU out. Your four o’clock. Don’t look yet.” She said.

Waiting a couple of minutes before turning around, you looked over your shoulder and there he was…a baseball hat covered his dark brown hair, he had a short well-groomed beard, eyes as dark as the night sky and a smile that would stop anyone dead in their tracks.

“Jackie, are you sure he was looking at me? Because he has to be the most handsome man I’ve ever seen in real life. Every woman in this area is looking at him.” You whispered to her.

She started to chuckle at little. “Well he sure as shit wasn’t lookin’ at me, I’m married anyway and he wasn’t looking at ANY of those other women, he was only lookin’ at YOU.”

Another inning went by and it was time for another beer so you stood up and headed for the concession stands. Walking up the stairs, you phone vibrated in your back pocket. It was a text from Jackie that said:

Hot guy is following you up the stairs, YAY!!

You couldn’t help but laugh a little and shake your head as you put your phone back in your pocket. And now that you knew he was a few steps behind you, it wasn’t the sun that was making you feel warm anymore. Another text came in:

You look really cute today, relax!!

She knew you all too well. She knew you were shy and easily flustered so that was a text pep talk to calm you down a little.

Standing in line, you could feel him behind you, watching you but almost in a protective way. You noticed there were a lot of people around that had already had a few too many, one of them being directly behind you. Swaying in place, and looking like he was about to fall over at any moment, the man spoke to you.

“Y-you look like you wanna buy me a beer! You are a p-pretty thing, aren’t ya.” He slurred.

The man took you by surprise, yelling in your ear like he did, but you tried to be as nice as possible.

“You sure you need another one? You look like you’ve had enough already.” You said with an uncomfortable smile.

The man tried to move closer to you but you stepped to the side a little.

“W-well I w-want you to b-buy me another!” He said, putting his hand on your shoulder.

And that’s when your tall handsome stranger stepped in.

“Hey, is that guy bothering you?” He asked, trying to get in between you and the drunk.

Looking a little nervous, you nodded.

His eyes looked darker than they were when you saw them before, his lips were pulled back to expose clenched teeth, and the heated glare he gave the man was filled with rage.

“Take your hand off of her…now.” He said with a low growl.

The man grabbed your shirt at the shoulder and gripped it tightly in between his fingers. “This doesn’t concern you, pretty boy. This is between me and her.”

And with those words he shoved you backwards into a person carrying two cups of beer that ended up splashed down your back and caused you to fall to the ground.

What happened next, happened so fast that you missed it but looking up after hitting the ground, your admirer suddenly had the drunk man pinned to ground face down when security came running over to take him away.

The handsome stranger rushed to your side and gently placed his hand on your shoulder.

“Are you ok, miss?” He asked, looking you over to make sure you weren’t hurt.

“Well…I have beer all over me but other than that, I guess I’m fine.” You answered.

He laughed a little and continued to smile that perfect smile at you.

“Well this is not how I wanted to introduce myself but HI…Billy Russo.” He said in a slightly sarcastic tone and extending his arm for you to shake his hand.

You gave him a warm smile. “Well it’s nice to meet you, Billy Russo. I’m y/n. Thank you for what you did, I’ve never really had anyone come to my rescue before.”

He gave you his hand for you to take and helped you to your feet.

“Well I’m just glad I was the one to rescue you. Come on, let’s go buy you some dry clothes.” He said.

A little embarrassed, you told him you only brought enough cash with you for beer, the rest of your money was with your purse, at your seat. He said it was on him and he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“What? No Billy, I can’t ask you to do that. They charge a small fortune for all this stuff.” You said.

Billy winked and smiled at you. “You didn’t ask, sweetheart. I offered.” His slight New York accent coming through. “This way…”

He was so handsome and charming. It was hard to say no, so you didn’t and he led you to a shop to get some dry clothes.

You picked out a new DiMaggio t-shirt since your other one was soaked with beer and a pair of joggers, you were thankful that your socks and sneakers didn’t get wet. Billy had the same t-shirt on.

“At least this one doesn’t smell like beer.” You laughed. “What do ya think?” You asked with a smile and a 360 turn.

Leaning against a rack of clothes, he smiled back at you. “I think you look perfect.”

You felt yourself start to blush. “Thank you for this, Billy. You really didn’t have to. Can I take you dinner, as a thank you?” You asked him.

“Hey that’s my line.” He said with a sly smile as he inched closer to you.

Looking up at him through your dark lashes, you could not take your eyes off of him and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. It suddenly felt like it was a thousand degrees inside the store.

“Tell ya what…let me take you to dinner and you can buy me a beer on the way back to our seats. How does that sound?” He asked.

You extended your hand for him to shake it. “You got yourself a deal, Mr. Russo.”

On the way back to your seats, you bought four beers. Billy’s friend Frank needed one as well and when you got back to your seats, Frank was sitting with Jackie, and they were showing each other pictures of their kids.

“FINALLY! I’ve been dyin’ of thirst down here.” Jackie said. “Ummm, why are you wearing different clothes? What have you two been doing?” She asked with a wink.

“It’s a long story, I’ll tell ya in a minute.” You said.

You smiled and extended your hand to Frank. “Hi, I’m y/n.”

Frank firmly shook your hand. “Frank Castle. Nice to meet ya.” He said with a smirk.

You handed him his beer. “It’s nice to meet you too, Frank.”

Looking at Jackie, you introduced her to Billy. Her response made you crack a smile.

“Oh I’ve heard a lot about Billy from this guy over here.” She said, pointing at Frank.

The four of you enjoyed the rest of the game together, sharing peanuts, drinking beer, and singing Take Me Out to the Ball Game.

Billy told you he and Frank were in the Marines together but now Billy owns his own private security company and Frank works closely with him.

As the game went on, Billy snaked his arm around you and draped it over your shoulder. Goosebumps peppered across the exposed skin on your arm as he lightly brushed it with his long slender fingers.

You could feel him stealing glances at you when you’d lean over to talk to Frank or Jackie, or rubbing your back before he’d get up to use the restroom or if it was his turn to make a beer or snack run.

These little gestures caused your ears to turn red and gave you butterflies in your stomach. You were already smitten with him.

After the game was over, you were chatting with Billy outside the stadium when you heard Jackie’s voice.

“So are you guys goin’ out on a date or what?” She asked, very directly. “You two look pretty cozy already.” She said, looking at Billy’s arm snaked around your waist.

You smiled nervously at her before looking at Billy then turning back to Jackie. “Uh, yeah. Billy wants to take me to dinner.”

She looked at you, then at Billy, smiled and whispered in your ear. “I have a good feeling about him.”

“I do too.” You whispered back.

You bit down on your lower lip and looked up at Billy. He gave you a little wink as he took your hand in his and kissed the back of it. “I’ll call you later, sweetheart.”

“I look forward to it, Mr. Russo.” You said with a smile.

He leaned forward and feeling his warm breath against your ear, Billy whispered. “Ya know it drives me absolutely crazy when you call me that.” And he planted a light kiss on your cheek.

“Well, I’ll have to remember that.” You said with a slight smirk. “I’ll see you soon, Billy.”

Billy took one last look at you as you walked away from him. You could feel his eyes on you just like earlier waiting in line, watching over you and making sure you were safe. Once you were out of sight, Frank turned to Billy and said.

“I have a good feeling about that one, Bill.”

Billy smiled as he quickly glanced at the ground and back up to look back at Frank and said.

“I do too, Frankie. I do too.”

Tag List: @mindidjarin @saintmurd0ck @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @xdervyxccgh @mattmurdocksscars @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialams @idek-what-to-put @anastasianeedstoread @ratsys @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @simple-lovebot @russosafehaven @mrsbillyrusso @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend

If you’d like to be added to (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

#billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #billy russo #billy russo fluff #thirsty for cox June challenge #tfc writing challenge

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nhasablogg · 8 months

Text

Why do you hide?

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Characters: Reid, the BAU team

Summary: Reid avoids going to his yearly check up for the third year in a row, only this time his team members notice and try to help.

A/N: I admittedly have no idea if yearly check ups are a thing you have to do for work, but pretend it's a thing lmao.

Words: 2.1k

Reid knew what JJ had on her mind the moment he saw her crossing the office to get to where he was standing in front of the closing elevator, and because he knew what was on her mind he did the only thing his semi panicked mind could think of: he turned around and ran, if you could call walking slightly faster than usual running.

“Spence!” Her voice was muffled, which meant she was still inside the office which was good for him. He had absolutely no idea where he was going which in turn made him walk right past the most obvious escape routes (stairs, doors) and instead round the office area over and over. He could hear her behind him now, laughing because this surely looked ridiculous.

“Why are you avoiding me?” She grabbed a handful of his shirt, always stronger than you’d expect, and pulled them both to a halt. “What are you doing?”

“Oh hey.”

“Don’t ‘oh hey’ me.” She was still laughing, caught between concern and amusement and most likely stuck on incredulousness. Reid couldn’t blame her. “Why did you run?”

“No reason.”

“Oh my god, you’re not even pretending to genius your way out of this.” Her expression melted into proper concern. “What’s wrong?”

Guilt seized him, pressing into his chest. “It’s nothing, I promise, I just- Well, I know what you were coming to talk to me about.”

“How could you know that?”

Reid shifted. “Well, statistically it is around autumn time that we do our annual check ups, seeing as most people have recently come back from vacation, flu season is approaching, and the bureau wants to get all of those menial but necessary tasks out of the way before the holidays. It makes sense that you would want to talk to me about it even though that is not technically your job, but with your maternity leave getting closer and Gideon gone I think more tasks like these have ended up in both yours and Hotch’s hands and you probably realized that I-”

“Have skipped your yearly check up for the past three years? Yeah, we noticed.” She softened, something almost maternal crossing her features for just a moment. “Spencer, you know you need to do them. We all do.”

He fiddled with the hem of his sweater. Gideon had been kind about it when he’d realized Reid hadn’t gone to his appointment. He’d not asked. Had figured Reid had his reasons. In the back of his mind, overpowered by the neverending grief of Gideon’s departure, there was a small part of him which had been worried about this exact thing happening. He wasn’t sure what to even say if anyone asked.

But JJ didn’t ask. JJ was also kind about it.

“Tomorrow morning, Spence,” she was saying now, pointing at him. “Don’t let me hear you skipped it this year too.”

“I won’t let you hear it.”

“Spencer.”

He deflated. “Fine.”

“Good. Coffee?”

“Tons of it, please.”

Reid wouldn’t call it luck more than a momentary distraction that they needed to be in the air only hours later to fly to Pennsylvania, because he knew neither JJ nor Hotch would be dropping this. He avoided their eyes as if he’d committed the murder himself during the entire flight, but it was easy to have his face stuck in all the files. No one really questioned it.

“The doctor told me I have hypermobile shoulders,” Morgan was saying to Emily.

“Better than the opposite, I guess,” Emily replied. “I’ve gotten better at stretching this past year so she was very happy with me.”

“Wouldn’t want to get a bad grade on your yearly check up,” Morgan laughed. “Hey, Reid?”

Reid, who had stiffened the moment the conversation had started, jumped. “Y-yeah?”

“Sorry, did I scare you?”

“Well, I’m kind of busy.”

“Okay, testy. I was just gonna ask about your check up grade.”

“Oh, he’s not had his yet,” JJ said, sending him a look which he refused to interpret. “We’ll have to reschedule it.”

“Ah, that’s the worst. I’d be overthinking it. Like what are the chances of me developing asthma overnight or something.” Emily’s tone was light, laughter-laced, but Hotch seemed to grab onto her words much more tightly than she’d probably assumed.

“Is that something that worries you?” He was speaking to them all. “The yearly check up?”

Scratch that. His gaze was on Emily, but he was speaking only to Reid.

She shrugged. “Not really. I reckon you’d notice if something’s off before it, although I agree it’s a good system to have. You can never be sure.”

Hotch nodded, seemingly content, but when he dragged his eyes from Emily back to his own file it landed briefly on Reid, holding his gaze for a second too long.

Reid, stupidly, unnecessarily, flushed and lowered his head again, all but touching the file with his nose.

This was gonna be a long week.

“Hey kid.” He looked up from his desk to Morgan hovering over him. “JJ told me to tell you your check up’s at three today and to not be late.”

Reid shifted in his chair. They’d only been back for a few hours. He’d hoped that JJ would’ve given him another day at least. “Okay.”

“You seem nervous about it.” Morgan tilted his head, as if something clicked. “Come to think of it, you seemed tense about it earlier this week too. You okay?”

Reid waved him off. “I’m fine.”

“No, seriously. Do you have a fear of doctors?” Morgan leaned closer and lowered his voice. “Is it because of your mother?”

Reid had once confided in him that he was scared the doctors wouldn’t be able to detect it in time if his mother’s schizophrenia had been passed down to him. In retrospect it did sound as if he had a general distrust for doctors because of his mother, who’d not gotten the help she needed early enough. Maybe Reid could use that, only it didn’t feel right. He trusted medical doctors. He trusted they knew much better than him.

He shook his head. “No, no, I just-” He shrugged. “It’s nothing. It’s stupid.”

“I’m sure it’s not stupid.” But Morgan seemed okay about dropping it. It really wasn’t the place to push it anyway, with the office just returning to life after lunch. Reid was grateful for that, only it meant his check up was in two hours and he wasn’t sure he was ready. Felt the first surge of panic about it grip him.

And the worst part was that it really was stupid.

“I knew you’d be here.”

Reid knew Hotch would find him and so he wasn’t surprised, only a little shameful, when he looked up to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Hotch pulled a chair out, one far enough that he wasn’t in Reid’s space, and sat. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

How the hell do you talk about something like this with your boss? “I’m not sure I can.”

“Okay.” Hotch said it slowly, as if waiting for him to elaborate. “How come?”

“It’s embarrassing.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow. “Embarrassing.”

“You’ll think I’m being silly.”

“I would never think that.”

Reid looked down. Crossed something off of the note he’d been writing when Hotch had entered. “You will.”

“Reid, you’re scaring me. Should I have reason to be worried?”

Reid looked up again. Saw something terrified behind Hotch’s eyes. “I’m not using again,” he said quickly, realizing his behavior was probably alerting a whole different type of concern. “It’s not that.” Not this year. It had definitely been part of it last year, although not the main issue. Hotch didn’t seem convinced and Reid couldn’t blame him. “I will pee in any cup you want. I promise you, Hotch.”

“Okay.” Hotch leaned back. “Then what is it? Because as far as I’m aware your check up was supposed to start twenty minutes ago and you’re hiding in here.”

Reid exhaled slowly. “Like I said. Embarrassing.”

“Reid.”

“I just don’t like being touched by strangers.” It wasn’t a lie. Not the whole truth, but part of it enough that it wasn’t a lie. “It makes me feel… uncomfortable.”

“Uncomfortable.” Hotch tilted his head. Did his best not to profile him. “Has it always been like this?”

“Pretty much my whole life. Nothing’s happened, in case that’s what you think. Nothing I can remember at least.” He shrugged. “It probably has something to do with my undiagnosed autism.”

“Ah.”

“You’re not surprised.”

“I’m not, no.”

“Good.” Reid exhaled. “It means you understand.”

“I do to an extent, but Reid-” Hotch cut himself off, visibly trying to figure out how to approach this. “You do realize that that is no excuse to not do a mandatory check up, right? If you had talked to me I could’ve arranged some sort of accommodation. Now it just looks like you’re playing hooky.”

Reid hung his head. “I’m sorry.”

Hotch checked his watch. “There’s still time to do it. I can go with you.”

“No, no, it’s okay.”

“It would be no problem. Maybe it will help you feel calmer.”

“Garcia can go with me.” Reid had blurted it out, but the moment he said it he knew he’d said the right name. Garcia wouldn’t judge. Garcia would maybe tease, but she’d never judge. “If that’s okay?”

“Of course.” If Hotch was hurt that he was picking someone over him he didn’t show it. “I’ll let her know.”

Reid sat in front of the doctor and felt like a child. Garcia was doing her best to not squeeze his hand to death or bounce a hole on the floor, because those were the courses of action she’d decided to keep switching between. “I don’t like doctors,” she’d told him in the elevator, but she’d not protested when he’d asked, and so he’d not offered to let her off the hook.

“I hear you were trying to avoid me,” the doctor said, her tone light but firm. “Is there anything in particular you’d like to ask about before we start?”

“No.”

“Okay then. Now, this does not hurt at all and will be over quick. Sit up straighter for me. Breathe in. I need to listen to your lungs. Just like that. Well done, doctor Reid.”

Reid endured the coldness of the stethoscope on his chest and back and only tensed up a little when the doctor touched his lower back. Garcia was watching him intently, which in retrospect was his own fault and made him feel all the more tense. Maybe that was why he jumped when the doctor suddenly touched his side, briefly but softly. And Garcia, who was doing everything in her power to try to be there for him, understood.

“You’re ticklish.”

“Shh, not so loud.”

“That is adorable, boy genius.”

Reid groaned as they entered the elevator. “I don’t like that procedures like that forces you to remain still as you’re being subjected to sensations that you’re not supposed to be still while being subjected to-”

“So you’re saying you’d be fine with it if you were allowed to squirm away?”

“Well, kind of-”

“Say no more,” Garcia laughed, her index finger in Reid’s ribs, only for a quick poke, but Reid jerked away from it nonetheless. “So ribs, sides. Where else are you ticklish?”

“Nowhere.”

“Oh, don’t lie to me now. You can’t have avoided going to your check ups for years just for two spots.”

Reid held up his hands, a smile already on his face and nowhere to really run. Still better than the doctor’s office. Much much better.

“If you don’t tell me I will try them all,” she threatened, taking a step closer to him. “I’ll give you five seconds.”

Reid took a step back and found himself pressed against the wall. “Please.”

“Five.”

“Oh my god, Garcia, I beg of you-”

“Four.”

“Don’t tell Morgan about this, please don’t-”

“Three, two, one.” She stuck her hand beneath his chin. “You ramble for too long.”

Reid was too busy giggling to reply, although he could hear her cooing as well as he could hear the elevator reach their level, knowing she wasn’t done with him by any means but was probably kind enough to destroy him in private at the very least. She was laughing when she backed off, a threatening, teasing laugh, and despite his sensitivity he appreciated the playfulness much more than the concern.

“Watch your back, wonder boy,” she said, pointing at him as she walked away.

Reid exhaled, catching sight of Hotch nodding as he received a thumbs up from Garcia.

He ran a hand through his hair before entering the office with his head held high, hoping his smile had melted into a casual expression and that he wasn’t too flushed.

Much better than the doctor’s office.

#tickling #ticklish!spencer reid #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #reid x the bau #tickle fic #n writes #why do you hide?

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an-annyeoing-writer · 8 months

Text

yandere!Kai x Reader: petty theft. [+18]

Word count: 3 371

Tags: yandere!AU, smut, obedience training, bratty behavior, extreme degradation, sadom*sochism, in case you feel like Reader is high don't worry it's just subspace.

Warnings: s*xual content, potentially triggering themes such as toxic relationship traits, friendly reminder it's a fiction and not what we expect our IRL Nini to be.

Author's note: It's been a while since I wrote anything like that. Took quite a bit of effort as for such a small piece, but I hope to be releasing more content in the future~ Probably a Baekhyun fic will come around Halloween, so stay tunned!

His word was an order and you were addicted to giving up the sense of control. It was a perfect kind of deal between the two of you: him who would take everything without asking, and you who’d follow him without a moment of doubt.

Your relationship was anything but reasonable, anything but right, and anything but prosperous. But it was giving you some sense of fulfillment that no other had ever given, and it was a form of self-destruction that you could take with masochistic pleasure.

It would be a lie to say that it was the only unhinged thing that you enjoyed. Some things you liked more, some you liked less. Maybe it was your toxic trait to allow his obsession to get this far without objection, so you could drink up from all the pain and torment that he could offer.

“You have done it again.” His voice rumbled through the apartment. “Give it back.”

Recently, you felt lonelier than usual. When he would work and do other business stuff, or meet his friends even, you’d be locked up in his apartment with close to no source of entertainment. You were over with attempts to get out or to contact someone from the outside – these never brought anything good.

But you still felt the need to itch him in some way that would make him come to you and take it out on you. He had taken note of the pattern, you noticed – you’d be surprised if he didn’t. When someone steals your wallet three times in a row, it cannot be an accident.

The wallet was stored neatly under your pillow and the moment he entered your room, hand extended in expectation of receiving back the stolen item, you didn’t even pretend not to know what’s it all about.

Without hurry but neither taking too much time, you pushed yourself off the mattress and retrieved the wallet, then walked over to Jongin and placed it in his hand. The man’s eyes were fixated at you, although you couldn’t yet tell what he was thinking.

“Why do you always do that?”

You shrugged, a bit too embarrassed to state aloud your silly reasoning.

“You just wanted attention, didn’t you?”

He could read you like a book, couldn’t he? You hesitantly nodded your head.

The man shook his own with a sigh.

“What do I do with you. If I punish you as you want so badly, you’ll keep doing it whenever you feel like it.” You pouted. “I need to correct you in a way that discourages you from doing it again, right?”

There was a sense of fear mixed with excitement starting to grow within your stomach.

He stared at you with his face unreadable, and you felt like that stare had no other purpose but to make you start doubting in yourself, with nervousness arising that you were not sure you enjoyed anymore.

There was some sense of negative emotion on his side. As long as it was only irritation, you could handle it. But what if he was actually upset? What if you acting up had ruined something within his daily schedule? What if he wasted too much time trying to look for it or picking up stuff he then couldn’t pay for? Hopefully he didn’t get a fine on his way for not having his documents on.

“[F/n].”

You straightened up as if on command. Sensing the fear finally settle in and uneasiness become tangible on your face, Jongin’s demeanor started to shift. From cold and emotionless, a smug smirk appeared in the corner of his lip, and he crossed his arms with the wallet still held between his fingers.

Suddenly, his grip on the wallet loosened, and the item fell out of his hand and dropped to the floor with a thud. The noise was objectively quiet but in the silence surrounding you, it made your heart thump. Jongin didn’t flinch.

“Pick it up.”

You didn’t hesitate, crouching down and picking up the item, carefully putting it in his hand again.

However, the man didn’t move, and neither did he put any effort in holding it, and so the wallet fell back down. You stared at him in confusion.

“Pick it up.”

You gulped. The task was confusing, but refusing it was out of question. You picked the wallet up again and put it in his hand, this time holding it in there until you felt his fingers wrap around it securely. You breathed a soft sigh of relief when they did.

And then he dropped it again. The noise of the item falling down echoed with a nervous pang in your chest, as if it was not just a sound of a wallet falling, but a thunder at least.

You didn’t hesitate before crouching down yet another time, picking it up and extending your hand, although ready for the item to be denied again.

Jongin tilted his head to the side.

“I didn’t tell you to pick it up.”

He stepped forward, making sure that the step made noise on the wooden panels, and that noise was yet another sound that made you flinch, as if any motion coming from him could be a threat right now.

“You know what I mean, don’t you?” he spat. “If I tell you to do something, you do it. If I don’t tell you to, you don’t. If I tell you not to breathe, you fucking don’t.”

His hand shot forward, wrapping around your throat, and you thoughtlessly released the wallet, hands reaching to hold his wrist instead. You knew that fighting him would be futile, and to be frank, you wouldn’t even dare to do so. His hold wasn’t too strong, fingers pressing against the veins but not depriving you from air just yet. But a single attempt of taking a bigger breath made you choke on your own saliva and you gasped, trying to loosen his hold at least a little.

“Hands down.” The command was simple, and you felt tears gather in your eyes when you forced yourself to ignore the discomfort and take your hands off his own. The tips of your toes and fingers started to tingle.

Without any warning, the hold on your throat finally disappeared, and you coughed, bending in half because your legs almost gave up underneath you. You had just a few moments of rest before the next words came.

“Pick it up. With your teeth.”

You didn’t have to courage to look up at him.

Besides, from your position it was closer to the ground anyway.

You crouched down shakily, letting your knees and palms hit the floor. You repositioned yourself slightly so that the wallet would be in a convenient proximity and lowered your head, briefly thinking of how dirty the item must have been, being one of those never-washed items that are constantly in use outdoors. But that was not important. Your task was.

Your mouth was merely centimeters from the leather surface when you felt something touch the top of your head. From a brief sensation, it gradually strengthened into a pressure that pressed your face down into the floor. You peeked to the side, confirming the suspicion that it was nothing else but Jongin’s shoe weighing down on top of your head.

Your body quivered. It was a natural reflex to try and fight against the force, but you knew better than that – the only way was to give in, even when your cheek started to hurt from the pressure. It would hurt just a bit longer, and then you’d feel the bliss of submission overcome any and all pain. You breathed heavily, trying to at least position yourself a bit more comfortably.

Wordlessly, Jongin took his foot off your head, allowing you to finish the task. The wallet’s texture felt gross on your tongue, and you did your best to touch it only with your teeth. You lifted yourself until you were kneeling, and then tiled your head upwards, praying so that he would just take the wallet back without playing any more games.

You breathed a sigh of relief when his fingers pulled the item gently from between your teeth.

Noticing your saliva gathered on the surface, Jongin brought the item to your face, and you flinched, muscle memory awaiting a slap to your cheek.

But the slap didn’t come, and instead, he wiped the wallet on your face, and you pressed your lips together, doing your best to stay still during the humiliating treatment.

Upon finishing the act, he smoothly tucked the wallet in his back pocket, the item quickly forgotten and nothing left to stand in between you and Jongin’s mercy – or lack thereof. His attention, now focused on you solely, felt intimidating.

“Up.”

Although the order was rather vague, you didn’t hesitate rising onto your feet.

“Down.”

Your mind was already hazy, and so it didn’t feel so weird anymore to fulfill the Sisyphean task.

“Up.”

In fact, there were no thoughts left in your mind to even think about whatever the point of the requests was. There was only full obedience, and as long as he told you what to do, you had a goal to live for.

“Down.”

The floor already managed to warm up underneath your body, although your legs were growing tired. But all of these were just secondary sensations, your eyes, half-lidded in your masochistic high, were fixated on his own.

“You like it?”

You nodded, your tongue like a jelly making it hard to speak a word, but Jongin didn’t seem to mind.

“See? It’s so much better when you listen. You feel so good and I’m happy. Why change that?” You sensed a threat lingering in his voice and felt an urge to soothe it, so you leaned forward and pressed your face into his thigh, like a pet asking for that little bit of intimacy from its owner. The comparison seemed very accurate in your situation. “Are you tired, yet?” You nodded with a lazy smile. “I don’t think so.”

The next motion came completely unexpected, the man’s fingers grabbing your hair at the roots, pulling you off his thigh and pressing your face into his crotch instead.

“You’re not tired, sweetheart. I haven’t told you to be tired yet.”

The persuasion took your breath away. You dreamed of nothing more than of succumbing to the drugged-like state of your mind, but Jongin was merciless as he unzipped his pants with one hand, the other wrapped around your hair tightly when he pushed his length into your mouth before you could even take a good glance.

You gagged, your throat completely unprepared for the rough treatment. Jongin only pushed in harder until your nose touched his abdomen, and then held you in this position for a few seconds despite you gagging and choking. He pulled out, letting you take a short breath, and then pushed back in – your reactions much weaker this time.

It took some moments, a few pushes like that, until you finally started giving up again, and Jongin picked up his face, aligning it with his own pleasure. Your throat started to accommodate around him, but every rougher motion teared your eyes up. His movements were frantic, almost wild, and nothing but selfish.

There was no regard for your comfort, and it made you thrive. Your mind – covered in a fog. Nothing felt real. You diverted your attention from the sloppy noises of your own mouth being used, because somewhere not so far away, Jongin’s beautiful, although sparse moans filled the air like a heavenly music that you could just not get enough of.

Your jaw was starting to ache. It was hardly possible to breathe. You were lightheaded and too dazed to even acknowledge your own arousal starting to pool between your legs. Your skin was tingling all over, your scalp – burning, and you could swear you saw stars for a moment.

But Jongin’s pace was relentless, and something about that cruel, degrading demeanor was turning you on even more. He was making such good use of you, his obedient little doll.

It didn’t even matter that your hands were too weak to try and help him feel even better, because all Jongin seemed to care about was that your mouth felt so warm and nice.

It was just mere minutes that your mind barely registered before you felt him harden even more. You heard no warning, but his heavy pants and gasps – the ones you already learned to recognize – told you enough.

He suddenly pushed into your mouth with full force, his fingers holding your head in place as he came hard and fast, not even a taste present on your tongue with how his semen ran straight down your throat.

You gagged, a cough fruitlessly trying to tear through, everything inside of you screaming for relief that for those few seconds was completely unreachable. You only fought for his cum not to get into your lungs or leave through your nose, a desperate attempt on remaining at least remotely human in this absolutely dehumanizing experience.

Jongin finally pulled out of your mouth, and you frantically choked and coughed, catching desperate breaths, careless of his semen and your saliva running now down your chin and dropping onto your shirt and the floor below.

Your hands were still too weak to try and wipe it, your legs felt like cotton candy that absolutely wouldn’t hold you up, and you only bent down, leaning into his leg for comfort again, which this time brought even more peace and relief when you felt him reach down and place his hand on top of your head, stroking your hair gently, giving you all the time to catch your breath and recover. You felt so dizzy and so tired, so lowly but also so at ease.

“Up.”

Your body moved on its own before you consciously registered his voice. With legs feeling like a jelly, you forced yourself up. He must have composed yourself while you were down on the floor, and there was a stark contrast between him – looking as neat as ever – and you, completely whored out, not even remotely decent in appearance.

“That’s my girl.”

The praise tasted like champagne, sedating you further.

“Come here.”

He circled you and put his hands underneath your elbows. With mellow motions, he led you towards your bed and then pushed you onto the mattress. You landed softly and helplessly among cloud-like pillows and blankets.

The strong urge to melt and fall asleep has been abruptly interrupted by the man’s hands tugging at your pants and pulling them down to your knees. You hazily thought that it would be nice to get used once again, although your muscles wouldn’t really support you much and you’d be just a limp doll trapped underneath him. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Wake up, princess” he mocked, tapping your face – too gently to call it a slap in your dictionary, but not particularly affectionately either. You must have not noticed when your eyes slipped closed, and so you forced them back open.

You sensed Jongin’s hand hovering your womanhood, its warmth spreading all over your skin in a pleasant manner.

You could swear you could fall back asleep, but his two fingers suddenly intruded your entrance, making sure to cause a little bit of prickling pain even despite all that wetness that would make it so easy to accommodate to him. You let out a small whimper of discomfort.

“Wake up, love. There’s one more lesson you need to learn.” The pet names persuaded you to muster last bits of strengths – his words tasted so delicious, sweet proofs of Jongin’s own devotion for you, and what more could you possibly want? You reached with your arms to wrap them around the man’s neck in a loving, albeit somewhat pleading embrace.

“Could I be tired…?” you asked a bit jokingly, but also knowing that he’d appreciate that you kept his words in mind.

Jongin laughed softly.

But then his smile suddenly fell and his face darkened.

“Not. Yet” he spat out, fingers pushing deep into your core. Sensation wouldn’t be so pleasant normally, and it was clear that he also did not mean to please you, but you were growing deprived and just as the humiliation earlier, mere touch of him on your private parts made you squeal in arousal.

He joined one more finger, stretching you out easily with a sprinkle of pain. Small brushes of his thumb against your clit made you overflow with thirst, but he just wouldn’t do enough to quench it for you.

“Please…” You tried pressing yourself against his palm for any more of the sweet friction, but the other hand was quick to wrap around your neck and push you down into the mattress, rendering you absolutely helpless. The position yet again sent warmth down to your core, and you felt as though if he was to slap you in the face at that exact moment, you could simply cum just from that.

But Jongin couldn’t care less. He turned from stretching you to fucking you with his fingers, brushing against your sweet spot so sparsely despite the fast pace that you felt like you could lose your mind. You were pathetically mewling for any sort of actual relief.

And that was when he just stopped.

You moved your hips as if it would provide the friction instead, but both of his hands were suddenly gone. You pressed your thighs together, reaching with your own hand to finish yourself off, but it was slapped away before you could even get close, and so you sobbed in frustration, wriggling on the damn mattress as if it would soothe your need.

It took you a few painfully long moments to come back to your senses. Breath slowing down, the buzzing feeling in your head subsiding, sensation coming back into your limbs.

Your eyes eventually registered Jongin – he was resting his cheek on top of your bent knee, arms wrapped loosely around your leg in an intimate, loving position, so different from his cruel demeanor mere moments before.

He sat there in silence, watching your desperate and chaotic state with a small, content smile on his face, as if he took pride in nothing more than making you this pathetic, this hopeless, in drowning you in your own despair.

Your heart was slowing down, but it would be a lie to say that you felt any better. Your thighs were all wet from your arousal, and everything down there ached with how the pleasure was ruthlessly drawn away.

“Please” you mumbled with remains of strength, although you weren’t sure if your body could take any more of mistreatment.

“You can be tired now, love.”

Your eyes widened in realization.

“B-but…”

“Hm?”

Jongin’s head tilted innocently, although the look on his face held a threat behind, one that you wouldn’t dare to try and challenge. Your face must have displayed absolute defeat, all while Jongin’s was nothing but pleased.

“That’s what I thought, sweetheart.” His hand reached and patted your cheek lovingly, although there was something objectifying in it, as if he was patting a pet, or a favorite car, and not his lover’s face. You accepted your defeat.

Jongin sat next to you as you succumbed into the embrace of sleep, watching over you. Like a guardian angel – although a demon would be more appropriate in regards to his persona. You smiled at the thought.

With a tender kiss to your forehead, he whispered a goodnight, covering you with a blanket cozily and placing the fluffiest pillow right by your head, so you could wrap your arms around it if you’d like. Eventually, when he was certain you were almost asleep, he carefully got up from his place on your mattress and walked to the door, shutting it quietly to let you finally rest in the peace of your own space.

And in the last moments before falling asleep, you only wondered how long you will be allowed to rest before he notices that you pickpocketed his wallet again.

Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed this piece. Please reblog if you're able to, feedback will also be appreciated!!

#exo kai #yandere exo #yandere jongin #kai x reader #kim jongin fanfiction #jongin x reader #exo x reader #yandere x reader #vg: exo #vg: kai #vg: fanfiction

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constantlywriting1 · 1 year

Text

Everywhere: Warren Rojas x F!Reader

Pairing: Warren Rojas x F! Reader

Warnings: Drugs, Alcohol, and implied sex

Summary: You are being interviewed for the tell all story on Daisy Jones and The Six, but all you can seem to talk about is Warren. This is the events of your story with him and how it all panned out. This is the first part to what I am expecting to make a three part series.

Y/N: Living in Pittsburgh wasn’t at all interesting. I used to go to a catholic school, all girls. It was the worst. Being closed in like that only made me want to do all the things I wasn’t supposed to. My parents practically locked me in my room back then. They would find me somewhere I wasn’t supposed to be and I’d be grounded for months.

Warren: But she never stopped going out. She was everywhere. We’d go for a gig at some random bar in town and there she was in the front row cheering louder than anyone.

Y/N: When I met Warren the Dunne Brothers were barely what they would become. It was more of a hobby, but I liked saying I knew a guy in a band. My parents hated that I hung out with him. Of course they thought we were screwing and that really got under their skin. It wasn’t true… but I never denied it.

Eddie: I didn’t like her very much back then. I mean, for all I knew she was a total tease. I saw the way she acted with Warren, but they would never do anything. After a while you start to wonder what the hell is going on. But I didn’t know her like he did.

Graham: She was sleeping with some guy from the corporate offices downtown. He was married with kids and he was promising some sort of life for the two of them on the side. I remember when she told me that. I just felt so bad. She really believed him and Warren really liked her. It was just a mess.

Y/N: Yeah, I don’t know, he was nice to me. His name isn’t important but yes he was married. I was 17 and he was somewhere in his 30s. It wasn’t right and I knew that then, but I felt validated by him. He was the only adult in my life who treated me like an adult in every way. I do want to be clear though, it was not my job as a teenager to make sure this man stood true to his vows. I didn’t care about any of that. I just wanted to be loved.

Warren: I loved her, even back then. But I knew it didn’t matter. She genuinely thought that’s what she deserved and there was nothing I could do about it. She was just my friend and I decided to wait it out.

Y/N: I always liked Warren. He was following his dreams and I wanted to be just like him. But I didn’t have any dreams back then. I couldn’t see a future for myself that I enjoyed. I was living for everyone else back then and I didn’t see that ever stopping.

Billy: We met Rod and we knew we were going to California, all of us except Chuck. It wasn’t really a question, in my head at least. Warren was a little torn up about leaving her behind, but there was nothing we could do. She wasn’t coming, and honestly I just thought she was trouble all around.

Y/N: He said that? [laughs]. I wasn’t trouble to anyone but myself. Billy always looked at me like he could see right into my soul. When I’d see him around town it was always that same look. He was disgusted, and I wanted to shove it right in his face. Sometimes I’d imagine myself just walking up to him and saying Hey asshole, you know I’m not blind right? How about you mind your own business and I’ll do the same. But I knew better than to say that to him. Everyone in Pittsburgh had Billy Dunne’s dick in their mouth and I, surprisingly, seemed to be the only one who didn’t.

Warren: I wasn’t gonna ask her to come with us. I’d mentioned it in conversation a few times, just telling her that we were thinking about leaving, but she never seemed interested so I never asked.

Y/N: He didn’t have to ask me. Things were going down hill with my… partner at the time. His wife had caught on to his sneaky behavior and I could tell he was trying to figure out a way to leave me without causing a big scene. Between that and my parents getting increasingly less cool, I started to seriously consider my options. Warren told me when they were leaving and I didn’t say anything. I was still thinking it over, wondering if there was a chance with the older guy and hoping that somehow my relationship with my parents would miraculously fix itself in the three days that I had before the van left for California.

Of course none of that happened, and in those three days I realized that it never would.

The van was leaving on a Saturday morning. I had graduated high school by then and there was nothing holding me back in Pittsburgh. I stood up all night that Friday, packing my belongings into a tiny pink suitcase and thinking about whether or not I was making the right choice. By the time my bag was fully packed, the sun had barely started to rise. I sat down on my bed, my room looking nothing like the one I had spent my life in. And as I sat there waiting for the morning to come I realized how far away Pittsburgh felt to me already. There was no good reason for me to stay, but I sat there and fought myself to find one. I closed my eyes tight and searched my mind for a good memory, a good feeling attached to my home. The only thing I could come up with was Warren and his music, the band. And when I opened my eyes again I realized how stupid I would be not to go with them. So I grabbed my bag and ran out of my house.

Warren: I was sitting in the driver’s seat, just about to take off for our roadtrip to California and then I saw her running down the street. She had this big pink suitcase that she was trying so hard to carry. I almost thought she was gonna fall over, I just couldn’t stop laughing. I guess I got out of the car at some point, everyone started yelling at me wondering what I was doing. They hadn’t seen her yet. I remember running up to her and just holding her so tight in my arms. I could hear her laughing in my ear, a genuine cackle that warmed my heart. She held me just as tight, her fingers locked in my hair.

Eddie: We were all wondering what the hold up was. At some point I got out of the van and I just saw Warren hugging her and I knew she was coming with us. Well that and the suitcase. I rolled my eyes and got back in the van to spread the news.

Graham: I was happy she was coming with us. Billy was bringing Camila and I thought having a single girl with us could be cool. But Warren made it clear she was off limits.

Camila: She got in the van all giggly like a school girl. Eddie was sitting in the passenger seat and she just opened up the door and handed him her suitcase. He didn’t move at first but when he looked around and realized nobody else was moving either he grabbed her bag and made his way to the trunk. While he put her bags in the back with everyone else’s she sat down in the passenger seat beside Warren and closed the door. By the time Eddie got back around she was buckled in and carrying a conversation. He didn’t even try to get his seat back, he just came and joined the rest of us.

Y/N: I talked to Warren almost the whole way to California. When he got tired I would move to the back of the van with him while Eddie drove. I sat there hanging on to every word he spoke. He was a lot funnier than I ever realized.

When we got to the house in Laurel Canyon I was shocked at how beautiful it was. A little worn down, sure, but it felt like home with everyone else there. I had my own room, no one else wanted it because they thought it was haunted. It didn't matter very much to me, I was barely in it.

Warren: We started spending a lot of time together. When we’d go out together she would come with us. Most times we’d end up at some jukejoint and I swear she’d queue songs on purpose, somehow always ending up pulling me in for a dance. She would turn her back toward me and wrap her arm around the back of my neck. She’d pull all of her hair over one shoulder and I would just watch as she grinded against me.

Eddie: At this point I was getting pissed. She had been stringing him along since we left Pittsburgh and every night they would go their separate ways. She would go into her room and he would go into his. I started to tell him to just give it a rest. He had never tried anything with her and at this point I figured he had just plain struck out. I told him to accept the fact that they were always just gonna be friends and move on with his life.

Y/N: It wasn’t that I didn’t like Warren, because I did. But I didn’t want to fuck him up. I had a lot of… baggage back then and I couldn’t bring him down with me. He was my best friend and I figured we could get a little close without it meaning anything serious.

Billy: I don’t know why, but when she got in the van that day I didn’t imagine her staying in California with us. I didn’t take her seriously. But when I realized she was planning on living with us I had to have a conversation with her.

Y/N: He told me, “If you’re going to keep stowing away with us you have to start contributing.” I think I laughed when he said that, then I realized he was being serious. I asked him what he expected me to do and he said, “I don’t know, learn how to wait tables I guess.” and then he left.

Eddie: She became a waitress and bought a guitar with her first check. We all laughed about it.

Billy: She thought it was that easy. Just buy a guitar and all of a sudden you’re a rock star. No one said anything about it because it was obviously just to spite me. I told her to get a job and she said fine, I’ll do your job better. I wanted to see her try.

Y/N: I didn’t buy the guitar because of Billy, and I hated that it took him telling me to pull my weight for me to be able to afford one. Like I said before, I didn’t know I wanted to make music when we were in Pittsburgh. I had been in a few musicals and things like that, but I was worried about so much else.

In California I didn’t have to worry. I had the time to think about what would make me happiest in life and I started to write down lyrics here and there. I didn’t have a full song when I bought the guitar but I didn’t want to have to imagine the melody anymore. I would watch Graham and Billy play during rehearsals and try to pick up some chords from there. By the end of the month I could play very simple versions of a few of their songs, and from there I started making my own.

Warren: We would stay up late in her room and I would just watch her strum away, learning faster than I’ve ever seen anyone pick up anything. She wouldn’t play me her songs though. I’d watch her scribble away in her journal and before I could even ask about it, the book would be hidden once more.

Y/N: I never trusted anyone as much as I trusted Warren. We would stay up all hours of the night getting high on whatever we could get our hands on. Most times we would just split a few joints and sit there laughing in each other's arms.

I remember one night we were on mescaline and I was just staring at him. He was so beautiful to me and though it wasn’t the first time I noticed, it was the first time I was able to take it all in. He looked back at me and I swear he was going to cry. I put a cigarette to my mouth and he pulled a lighter out of his pocket.

“I am really happy you came with us.” He whispered to me as he put the flame to the end of my cigarette.

“I don’t know, sometimes I feel like I just made it harder for you guys.” I replied.

“You didn’t, you made it easier, at least for me.” He was being honest.

Warren: Yeah, I remember that night. She was only wearing a bikini even though we hadn’t gone out to the beach that day. She kept saying she was hot, and I mean hey, I wasn’t gonna tell her to put clothes on. She sat there next to me, smoking her cigarette and I just took her in. I couldn’t remember feeling that way about anyone I had ever met before.

At some point she took her cigarette and put it up to my lips. Without thinking I leaned forward and took a drag. My lips touched her fingers and we just sat there for a moment. When I leaned back, her eyes were glued on to me.

“I’m cold now.” She sighed. And then she got up, her long legs untangling effortlessly. She walked the few steps over to me and just sat right on my lap. I was shocked at first, a little confused. But it felt… right. So I put my arm around her and held her there.

Y/N: I don’t know why I insisted on torturing him. I knew how he felt about me. Camila would always be the one to tell me to stop messing with him, and it just made me want to be with him more. I was tired of everybody telling us what we could and couldn’t be. I didn’t think Warren had a problem with it.

When I sat on his lap that night I knew nothing was going to happen, because he respected me. I had never known a man to do that and I liked how it felt not having to worry about being used. I sat in his arms for hours, just listening to his heart beating. He put his hand on my thigh at some point and I thought I was in heaven. Well it was probably that and the drugs.

Warren: When she got up I felt like I was incomplete. She had been on top of me for so long, I forgot we were two seperate people. I watched as she stood there, expecting her to leave me alone like she had done so many times before. But to my surprise she didn’t move.

“Do you want to come back to my room?” She asked, and I couldn’t help but feel nervous. I had never slept in her room before, and she had never slept in mine. But I said yes.

Y/N: I grabbed his hand and helped him to his feet. We were both coming down and I knew I had to get to bed before I was fully off the drugs. I held his hand loosely in mine as we walked down the dusty hall’s of our house. When we got to my room he hesitated at the door.

“Is it actually haunted in here?” he questioned.

I scoffed quietly before pulling him further inside.

Warren: I sat down on her bed and turned away while she put on a night gown that barely covered anything. I wanted to ask her what we were doing but the words wouldn’t come out of my mouth.

She lingered onto the queen sized mattress, the length of her just barely reaching the edge. I layed next to her and just let her watch me.

And then she said it. “Can you sleep in here tonight?”

I turned toward her, I didn’t know if she was joking or not. But when I saw her eyes, sincere and full of sleep, I knew she was asking because she needed me to say yes. She needed someone to hold just for the night. So I nodded and we got under the covers. I still had my jeans on but I didn’t care.

Y/N: I slept very well next to him that night. And when I woke up late that afternoon he was still holding me. When I started to move I realized he must’ve been awake before me. I can’t imagine for how long.

I turned to face him completely and we both just smiled. I asked him how he slept and he made a joke about my bed being way more comfortable than his. I laughed and grabbed the top of his arm. I made my way down to his hand and held it for a second.

“Thank you, Warren.” I told him.

He said. “Don’t mention it,” and got out of my bed.

Warren: I didn’t know what happened. I couldn’t tell if it was the drugs or if she was just messing with me. I was happy it happened and that I could be there for her, but I thought it better I leave.

Y/N: I didn’t mention it after that and neither did he, but it was clear that everyone else in the house knew we had slept in the same bed. Like always they were making it into some big deal and I was so tired of them all forcing us into a box.

That afternoon Graham convinced Billy to call Karen on a pay-phone at lunch. We all huddled around the phone and listened as he blubbered to the British woman. Eventually, Billy took the phone and convinced her to join the band.

When she showed up the next day to move into the house we realized she had no place to sleep. Eddie suggested that I move into Warren’s room and I laughed but nobody else did.

“Why would I move into Warren’s room?” I shouted.

“Well, you guys had sex so I just assumed…” Eddie started. I walked right up to him and shoved him as hard as I could. I could feel my face heating up.

“Do you guys all think we had sex?” I yelled. No one said anything.

I wasn’t planning on saying anything, but what Eddie said got me so mad I couldn’t stop. “Warren and I are friends,” I said. “And we can do whatever we want without all of you questioning us all the time. We didn’t fuck but if we did it would be none of your fucking business.”

Warren: She stomped away and slammed her bedroom door behind her. They all looked at me and I just smiled and shrugged. She was a complicated person but I understood why she was upset.

Eddie: She didn’t have to push me. Maybe I shouldn’t have said what I said but I thought it was true. [laughs] I guess that doesn’t make it any better.

Karen: While she was in the room they all began to try and deal with the situation. I remember laughing to myself about the mess of it all. I mean, she was acting like a child.

Billy: Just as we were starting to figure out how to rearrange everyone she came out of her room with that pink suitcase and looked right past all of us to Warren. He smiled and quickly made his way over to her. Eddie scoffed and we all just kinda looked around, like none of us had actually expected her to do it.

I think that’s when I realized how completely wrong I was about her. I had been imagining her as the same naive kid in Pittsburgh but it just wasn’t true anymore.

Warren: We went to my room and she threw her suitcase on the bed. I watched as she opened it and started angrily going through drawers to see where her things would fit.

“I can’t believe Eddie would say that,” she started grunting.

I felt bad, I didn’t want her to think that’s what I told him. But when I opened my mouth to tell her she just said, “I know.”

Y/N: That night was different. Warren only had one bed in his room and it was smaller than mine. We both barely fit because of how far apart we insisted on being.

And then I had a thought. Why was I ignoring his feelings? There was no real reason we couldn’t be together and I was the one making it harder than it had to be. My heart started to beat so fast, I thought he could hear it.

I turned toward him and he was already facing me. his dimples were showing even with his small little smirk. I didn’t say a word, just leaned right in and pressed my lips against his.

Warren: I wasn’t expecting her to kiss me, but when she did I melted. I don’t know, I think there’s something really special about waiting for someone, watching them grow and knowing they’ll be ready for you someday. Of course I didn’t know it was gonna be that day, but who really knows with her?

Y/N: I got on top of him and started kissing every inch of skin that I could find. I had been holding myself back from him for so long, I just needed to feel him.

Warren: She was loud that night. I remember thinking there was no way we were going to be able to live it down. It wasn’t late enough for anyone else to be asleep, and if it was we would’ve woken them up.

Graham: The next morning she came out of that room… lighter. We were all snickering about what we had heard and she just sat with all of us and watched for a minute.

And then she said, “Now we’re fucking, so I hope you’re all happy.”

We all laughed, even Eddie.

#fanfiction #daisy jones and the six fanfiction #warren rhodes #warren rojas #warren rhodes x f!reader #Warren rojas x f!reader #Warren rhodes fanfiction #warren rojas fanfiction #Warren rojas imagine #warren rhodes imagine #daisy jones and the six

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destinedfordiaperstories · 4 months

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Sammy's Little Problem, Chapter 15

Chapter Fourteen here.

It took a second for Sammy to comprehend how huge Littles’R’Us actually was when they pulled into the parking lot. It made Costco seem small by comparison. This wasn’t going to be a quick trip.

Sammy took a deep breath, trying to not feel so overwhelmed. She couldn’t help but notice Allie was treating her much more like a Little than ever before. Movie night now felt like a lifetime ago. She still didn’t feel like a Little. She felt the same as she did the day she received the news.

Just…with much less bathroom control. And did get a bit sleepier around midday and around 8 PM, and, she had to admit, did have to work harder than usual to not be emotionally overwhelmed. But still, adjusting to being treated like a Little was harder than she expected.

“You ready, Sammy?”

“Do I have a choice?”

Alyssa laughed, “well I guess not, no. But I want you to stay close to me, this store is huge and I don’t want you getting lost, okay? I want you to hold my hand or the cart at all times.”

“I’m not a baby,” Sammy huffed.

“I never said you were, Sammy. I just don’t want you getting lost. What would you do if you got lost? You don’t have the keys to the car. You don’t have a cellphone to call me. What would you do?”

“Well, I would have my cell phone if you didn’t take it away!” Sammy retorted.

“We went over this, Sammy,” Alyssa said sternly, “you don’t need a cellphone like you had. We can get you one designed for Littles in the future, but I don’t want you surfing the web and getting into trouble.”

Sammy stuck her tongue out Allie before she realized she was doing it. Her face flushed with embarrassment.

“Well, that is a great point there, Sammy!” Allie laughed, “now can you hold my hand?”

Sammy did. They walked into the store. It was hard to fathom how large it was. There seemed to be endless rows of Little’s products of all levels. It was so big, Alyssa grabbed a map before heading to the counter.

“Hello,” the woman at the counter said nicely, “how can I help you today?”

“We’re here to get everything set up for my new Little, Sammy,” Alyssa responded.

“What a cutie!” the woman said looking down at Sammy, “the first trip is always so exciting! You get to pick out everything your heart desires, little one!”

Sammy couldn’t bring herself to respond. Instead, she hid behind Alyssa in embarrassment.

“She’s still a bit shy,” Alyssa acknowledged.

“Well, that’s perfectly fine!,” she said to Sammy before turning back to Alyssa, “I can get you set up, did you bring the paperwork from the Littles Registration Office?”

“Yep, right here.”

“Perfect. Okay. So I see Sammy here is a Level Two Little. Most of the L2 supplies are down towards the back. Just head straight down and you can’t miss it. You’ll find the diaper aisle on the way, as well as any of the products that are appropriate for both L1s and L2s, such as bottles, sippy cups, and diaper bags.”

“Great,” Alyssa replied, “but these shopping carts don’t seem big enough to carry everything, though.”

“Whoops, I almost forgot! You’ll use this scanner here to select any of the bigger items you’d want. We offer same day delivery and installation if you finish before noon, which gives you three and a half hours, plenty of time. For things like diapers, you can put some in your cart, but the rest you can scan in and we’ll delivery them along with any furniture. And everything you scan will be added up and once you get to the checkout, the government rebate will automatically deduct from the total and you can pay the difference, if any, there.”

“Thank you so much,” Alyssa says as the woman gives her the scanner, “I think we can figure it out from here!”

Alyssa grabs a cart. “Okay, Sammy, you ready to start?”

“I-I guess,” Sammy whimpers.

Unsurprisingly, the diaper section is huge. There are diapers of every size, thickness, color, interest.

“It look’s like the L2 diapers are a few rows down,” Allie says, consulting the map.

“What’s the difference between L1 and L2 diapers, Allie?”

“Well, L1s and L2s have different needs. Remember, L1s aren’t able to walk or talk, so their diapers need to be different than for L2s. L1 diapers are way thicker since they don’t need to worry about walking. They’re so cute though. I’m sure we could get you some!”

“Sammy laughs nervously, “I think that’s okay, Allie.”

“Well, if you change your mind, let me know!”

They get to the L2 diaper aisles. Sammy sees there are three sections: Daytime Diapers, Nighttime Diapers, and Swim Diapers. Each design had a diaper on display, to let the Littles get a better idea of each design.

“Okay, lets start with daytime diapers,” Allie says, “which ones do you like best, Sammy?”

Sammy’s stomach sank at the question. This made it feel so real. She was going to pick out the diapers she’d wear for the rest of her life.

“I-I don’t know,” Sammy whispers.

Allie pulls Sammy in for a hug. “It’s a lot, I understand, Sammy. But would you rather have me pick out boring, ugly diapers? If you’re going to wear them anyway, you might as choose the ones that match your style!”

Sammy doubted diapers would ever match anyone’s “style,” especially not hers. As she looked around, she definitely didn’t think anyone of these diapers would do that. All of them were in sickening pastel colors or complete with babyish cartoon patterns on them. She started walking down the aisle, seeing her options.

“Look at this one, Sammy!” Allie encouraged, “these one’s have astronauts and these one’s have rockets on them!”

Alyssa knew it was a mistake as soon as she said it. Sure, they did make the most sense for Sammy, but maybe it was still a bit too soon for Sammy to want them.

Sammy teared up almost immediately. It was one thing to go from an adult to a Little, but going from potentially being a rocket scientist, to wearing rockets on her diaper was just too much. Tears welled in Sammy’s eyes.

“I’m sorry, Sammy, I should have known that was a stupid suggestion! I didn’t mean to upset you!”

“It’s not fair!” Sammy whined, “I don’t want to wear diapers with rockets on them, I want to work on rockets! I want to go home!”

Alyssa kicked herself. She should know how to not set off her own Little’s tantrums, even if this was so new. “Sammy, please, everything is okay. Come here.”

“No!” Sammy shrilled defiantly, stomping her feet, “I won’t do it! I won’t choose a diaper! I won’t be a Little! I won’t I won’t I won’t!”

Sammy’s screams echoed across the store, drawing sympathetic looks from other Caregivers. Alyssa stood there, unsure how to help Sammy.

“It’s okay you’re upset, Sammy. It’s okay to be angry. I know you don’t want to be wearing diapers. These are big emotions, it’s perfectly fine to feel them. But right now you need to choose some, okay? It’s not up for debate.”

Sammy looked mutinous. “I’m not a baby! You can’t make me!”

Alyssa sighed. “Sammy, now is not the time for screaming. I understand you’re frustrated, honey. But you need to calm down and explain to me how you’re feeling, alright? You cannot scream like this in public. Can you take a deep breath for me, Sammy?”

It took a few more stomps, but eventually Sammy gave in and took a deep breath.

“Thank you, Sammy. You’re doing great. Now let all your anger and frustration out as you breathe out, okay? Nice job. One more time. Good girl, Sammy. Now, can you tell me how you’re feeling?”

Sammy took a few steadying breaths. As she did, she felt herself calm down, regaining the clarity she had before. “I-I’m sorry, Allie! Sometimes it feels like I lose control and just want to cry and scream, I don’t know w-what’s happening to me.”

“I understand, Sammy, it’s easy to feel overwhelmed, isn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“But we can’t yell and scream when that happens, can we? We need to talk about our feelings before they explode, okay?”

“Y-you’re right, Allie.”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Sammy. Just promise when you start to feel overwhelmed, you’ll tell me, okay?”

“Okay…”

“Thank you, Sammy. That’s very mature of you. Now, can you help me choose some diapers?”

“Yeah, I can, Allie,” Sammy says, looking back at the rocket ship diapers, “I actually do want them, Allie. I want to see them so I’ll always remember my goal, to be the first Little rocket scientist ever!"

Go to Chapter Sixteen.

#ab/dl babygirl #cg/l #cg/l community #cg/l lifestyle #sammyslittleproblem #cg/l little #ab/dl community #ab/dl fiction #ab/dl lifestyle #diaper community

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thatsdemko · 1 year

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ask - m.seider

masterlist

requested: y

pairings: mo seider x reader

warnings: none but fluff and I kind of took my own creative liberty with this 🫣

the sun light was creeping in through your blinds when you woke up and rolled over nearly hitting the 6’4” German who lay beside you. you weren’t sure how it got like this. one day you were friends, and the next thing you knew he was under your covers asleep next to you almost every night.

“don’t you have another place to stay?” you asked him months ago, grabbing his pillow that was tightly embraced in his arms and allowing him into your apartment that he never seemed to leave except for away games.

“it’s no fun living with Lucas when you’re all the way over here.” he removed the beanie from his head and you watched him mess with his curls making your knees weaken.

it didn’t take long for him to make himself at home for an extra month. you noticed most of your drawers were beginning to fill up with red wings gear, boxers, and his sweatpants. your bathroom had additional shampoo and conditioner, and your kitchen had a plethora of German spices you couldn’t even pronounce.

you weren’t mad mo had become your roommate, in fact you loved spending time with him. but the problem became your ongoing crush began to rapidly spiral when he one day climbed into your bed—even though his room was right next door—and he never seemed to have gone back to his own.

and that’s how you woke up this morning. to him in your bed for the third night in a row. there was no horse play that went on, it typically began with you both in your separate rooms, he came in to ask about your day, and then you both fell asleep. every morning you woke up with the anxiety that he wasn’t right there next to you, but there he was. still sound asleep.

once you got the energy to roll out of bed you began to start cooking breakfast. the smell of bacon and eggs was a way to get anybody up, and shortly after you started you heard the sound of your bedroom door unlatch, and the sound of hard wood floor creaking grow louder with every step.

“good morning,” you smiled, he mumbled a few words to you making his way to the fridge to grab coffee. he was never a man of many words in the morning, but you didn’t mind it. sometimes you both ate your breakfast in silence and sometimes you ate your breakfast listening to mo talk a mile a minute. you cherished both of those mornings.

“coffee?” you heard him, and before you could reply he was already holding the cup up to your lip allowing you to sip whatever he had just mixed together. he watched you close your eyes swallowing the mixture, “not bad, I’ll have one.”

it was silent for awhile, you platted the food for you both and headed to the table to sit down and wait for mo. you glanced over at him for a second catching a glimpse of the back of him working on the coffee. you couldn’t help but stare a little longer picking up the bruises on his arms and the sheet marks on the back of his shirt. it was gestures like this that made you question your relationship, friendship, or heck even situationship. sometimes you would wake up in the morning wondering if he would regret slipping into your bed with you that night.

“what are we?” you asked, it was mainly to yourself, you’ve questioned it for so long. every morning you woke up hoping one day he would realize maybe you were what he wanted to wake up to. ever since he walked in that door with his pillow you wondered where it was going to go. especially, now that he made himself a home for three days in your full size bed. you didn’t expect the question to come out of your mouth. it was supposed to be more of a silent question, but it grabbed his attention.

he turned at the sound of your voice, he only heard a little bit of what you said, but he picked up enough to know what you asked. he’d been avoiding the thinking himself, but when it came to you how could he ever not question it? his teammates called him a wimp for not pulling the trigger on asking you out. he dared not to even ever say he spent most nights in your bed.

“what do you want us to be?” you heard from the kitchen. snapping you out of your daydreams you watched as mo approached the table with two cups of coffee, setting one down for you.

red covered your cheeks as you tried to hide your face behind your cup, “I didn’t expect you to hear me.”

the silence was loud. it was the most uncomfortable silence you’ve ever endured with him, and you didn’t like it. you could tell he didn’t either just by the way he was playing with his food. it was just like you both were avoiding the question on the table.

you watched him shift uncomfortable in his seat, “so have you always liked me?” he asked. you watched his cheeks flush red now this time. you watched him pick up and drop his silverware waiting for an answer from you. he couldn’t get himself to eat because now he was full of anxiety. he couldn’t deny it himself he felt an attraction toward you, but it was always easier for him to ignore it than swallow himself in it.

“well I wouldn’t let you stay for this long if I didn’t.” you joked nibbling on a piece of bacon, and the silence came again. it was agonizing.

tired of waiting, you cut to the chase. one thing about mo is if he wants something he waits, but you were making moves now. you waited too many times in bed wanting to ask the question. you had too many restless nights on the phone hoping he’d be the one to tell you. but you were going to do it now.

“do you want to ask me out? or will I have to ask you?”

mo picked his head up from staring at the plate of breakfast in front of him to look at you. not a sight of anxiety on your face waiting for an answer, he knew if he backed out he’d be denying his feelings and his teammates would have a field day. as much as he tried to take it slow, he knew it would be impossible with you. especially since he somehow always found himself in your bed every morning.

“y/n, will you go out with me?”

“yes, now let’s talk about getting you your own dresser. mine is full of your clothes.”

#hockey imagines #hockey #hockey fic #hockey blurbs #nhl fic #nhl imagines #nhl blurbs #detroit red wings #detroit red wings imagine #Detroit red wings blurbs #moritz seider #moritz seider x reader #moritz seider imagine #moritz seider fic #nhl

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punks-never-die205 · 10 months

Text

Passing Fascination

Fem Reader x Yandere!Eustass Kid

CW: kidnapping, yandere Eustass Kid, violence, dubious consent, imprisonment, abuse, swearing, sex, group sex, dark content kids I am not messing around with this ♥

Chapter 3: Caught

Your fingers flex with your wrist pinned to the tree, your other hand is against the trunk. You don’t know what you can do at this point, but you know the last thing you need to do is make any kind of aggressive move. Now is not a time to even accidentally bare your fangs toward Kid.

“I -.” You start but he interrupts you.

“Snuck out of my room, grabbed the rowboat sight unseen,” the grin on his face is a combination of amused and impressed. He hasn’t moved closer, and yet he seems to feel bigger and you feel smaller as he continues. “Rowed almost an hour non-stop, that’s more stamina than I expected.”

He steps toward you. “Then you hauled ass into this forest like you’d grown up on this patch of dirt. I didn’t expect you to bolt in the first place, not after you admitted your feelings on the beach.”

“I never s-said -.”

“Like we need something as useless as words.” He interrupts. His right hand goes over your pinned hand, opening your fingers and holding them against the bark softly. His metal hand caresses your hip. “Gonna lie to me now?”

“… I did.” You do your best to look at him.

“Did?” His brow raises a little, a soft smile on his lips.

“Until you kidnapped me.” You clarify.

His hand presses yours into the bark a little more, but the smile on his face doesn’t falter. The wide metal hand shifts and lifts you a little, taking some pressure off your shoulder.

“If my little pet mouse wanted me to chase her, she should’ve been clearer.” He pulls the spiky wrist band free from the tree, cradling you in that large metal arm of his. You could feel the tubes and gears flexing carefully under you.

“I… I just wanted to enjoy the time we had and,” you swallow and look away, you aren’t sure if being honest is going to be the last thing you get to do or not. “And, move on from there.”

“Plannin’ on forgetting about me?” He lifts you up a little, putting your back to the tree trunk. He’s leaned in, moving so that you can’t escape his gaze with the light hold he has on your face.

For someone who could move you and crush you as he pleased, he’s being surprisingly gentle.

“I… don’t think I would’ve ever forgotten you.” You admit, your eyes closing as the hand holding your face caresses your cheek. His thumb moves over your lips, and you flinch a little.

“Then what’s the complaint?” His voice is soft, the usual gravel is gone, and you can feel the breath of his words against your lips. “You’re not some port whore,” His lips are feather light against your cheek. “You’re not left pining on some island,” his tongue grazes your ear, and you bite your lip to hold back the jolted moan that almost escapes you.

“This way, you’re all mine, and I’m all yours.”

“Th-then you should’ve talked it out with me.” You’re almost crying. You’ve been kidnapped by an insane pirate who decided he loves you and you love him. You didn’t dislike him – you hadn’t, at least, before now. The dinner, the beach, the conversation, you had truly enjoyed yourself.

You’d entertained so much, but none of that mattered now.

“Please, just take me back to Three Rivers. Kuh-kuh-kidnapping me like this, isn’t going to work.” You feel the metal hand twitch and shift under you, and you fight to calm yourself down. You knew what you were going to say was going to upset him, and now all you could do was wait.

If he crushed you on the spot, it would at least be quick.

“Nope.” He says, lifting you up and holding you against his chest as he moves away from the tree. The easy way he says it catches you off-guard and you don’t know how to react for a few minutes. You steady yourself against him, feeling painfully small compared to how broad shouldered and tall he is.

“I’m a pirate. I’m not going to just return what’s mine.” He continues. “You need time to adjust, like any good pet mouse. Don’t worry, we’ll teach you well, and if you get lost again, I’ll find you.

“Every time.” He promises, sending a cold chill down your spine into your gut. “So don’t worry about it.”

With terrifying clarity, you realize he’s saying that you can run, struggle, and fight all you want – it won’t matter in the end. He’ll train – break – you until you’re well behaved and accepting of your situation.

You can’t just run away from him without a plan, and you can’t just expect rank and file marines to be able to protect you. You need to find someone stronger, or strong enough at least, to deter him, but how long could that take?

How lucky would you need to be to accidentally come across an Admiral? There might be another pirate crew who could compete, but how do you convince another crew to defend you for nothing?

He carries you through the forest, neither of you saying anything. You don’t even bother to look around, with the metal bracer on your wrist you wouldn’t get far even if you could somehow leap from his hold. His grip on you wasn’t strong, but it was solid enough, and you were certain the slightest movement on your part would snap it closed sharply.

Your small rowboat is secured to the larger one that came in search of you with your confiscated spear and rope. Two crew mates rowed you back to the Victoria, but you couldn’t even focus on who it was. The ship looked like a massive prison to you now.

You were hauled onto the boat without any fanfare. No one was growling at you, or even muttering to themselves. It was like the crew knew that your position, your situation, was still effectively being decided. Kindness was no more likely to be extended toward you than cruelty. The crew moved to Kid’s will, of that much you were completely certain after the couple of weeks they had spent in your tavern.

Kid walks you back to his room. You expected it before you’d even reached the ship, but it didn’t make it any easier.

Stepping inside, he closes the door. There’s no click of a lock, and he sets you down before lighting a lamp. The metal bracer comes off your wrist and moves over to Kid’s hand. You rub your wrist a little, but you don’t say anything, or move from where he set you down.

“Get into the bathroom.” He says, shedding his thick coat and letting the excess pieces of his metal arm fall away until it’s more in line with the size of his other arm. “We’ll get you cleaned up and get those scrapes covered before you get some rest.”

“I can do it myself.” You try to say it as neutrally as possible, not defensively, not fearfully. Just a statement of fact.

“I’m sure you can, pet mouse, but taking care of you is my responsibility.” He answers easily, turning enough to face you. “You’d rather sleep in bed covered in bark and dirt?”

You shake your head, and are surprised when Kid ruffles your hair.

“Don’t get all meek on me now.” He says, heading toward the bathroom. You follow after him in your daze.

“I… just don’t know what to do. I … er, how to act, or…” You stop walking, rubbing your arm as Kid turns to look at you. “I don’t want to say something and end up with a broken-.” You stop, putting your hands over your face.

“You’re Eustass-fucking-Captain-Kid!” You scream. “Your bounty is astronomical! The rumors about you alone paint you as one of the cruelest people to sail the seas!” You look up at him, tears welling up in your eyes. “You could snap me like a twig and toss my body into the sea if I displeased you, and – and – and you’re telling me not to be meek?! I’m terrified, you bastard!”

Frustration, exhaustion, pain, and stress win out and you cry. You bawl and just scream, letting it all out, his comfort be damned.

You rage for a couple minutes, too tired to last any longer than that, but it did feel good to get it all out. Kid stood nearby the entire time, not moving or speaking until he was sure you were done.

“Get into the bathroom.” He repeats.

You nod, walking by him and heading into the bathroom. You slip out of your clothes and let him move you around. He takes care with the scrapes and cuts on your feet, washing you so tenderly it almost makes you cry again.

He washes every part of you, but never touches your skin with his own. There’s always a washcloth between you, and aside from telling you how he needs you to move he doesn’t say anything else. No remarks on your body, appearance, or even on the state of your few minor wounds. It’s strictly business, almost clinical, except there’s such tenderness in the acts themselves, and a softness in his voice.

Once he’s done you get out of the tub and dry yourself off. He steps out and comes back with clothes - your clothes, you recognize them. Someone had gone to your house before the ship had left Three Rivers and grabbed your clothes at the least.

Clean under clothes and a night shirt. You didn’t often wear anything to bed, but night shirts were comfortable to wear around your home on lazy mornings. After you get dressed Kid bandages your scrapes.

“None of these are too bad,” he says, finally commenting on them. “But dismissing the little shit can turn it into a fuckin’ pain, so you’re going to be bandaged up for a few days while these heal.”

“Wouldn’t it…” you pause and so does Kid, looking at you and silently prompting you to continue. “Be easier for you, if I couldn’t walk?”

“Tch,” he grumbles, going back to his work. “I don’t want you broken. If all I wanted was a fuck toy I’da cut your legs off before you woke up and you’d be covered in cum and spit right now.”

He finishes up with your feet, picking you up after he stands up and setting you down on the edge of the bed. “Get some sleep.” He says before walking out of the room and closing the door behind him. You don’t hear the click of a lock, but you’re certain the whole ship’s on high alert, so it’s probably a bad idea to try and sneak out.

You realize though, more than sleep, you’re hungry.

After a moment of thinking it over you walk over to the door and open it up. Kid’s some feet down the hall talking with Killer and they both look over at you.

“I’m really hungry.” You admit as evenly as you can as soon as you open the door. “I’d like… something to eat before I try to sleep.”

There’s a brief moment before you add. “Please.” To the request.

Kid looks over at Killer and inclines his head. The blonde walks off and Kid looks back at you.

“Mess hall’s empty, you can eat there, unless you want it brought here.” He offers.

“No, I can go there.” You step out of the room and into the hall. “Where is it?”

Kid kneels and holds out his metal arm. Getting into his arm of your own will is different from having him pick you up, but you are really hungry. Your feet, however, don’t hurt that much.

“I’d rather walk.” You say it a little tersely, but Kid just shrugs and stands back up. He starts walking and you follow after him.

It’s quiet between you both on the way there, and aside from a couple words of thanks you give to Killer, you don’t say much else as you eat. When you’re done eating, Kid walks you back to the room and closes the door behind you after you crawl into the bed.

The room is pitch black without the door open, and there’s no video snail for light either. With a full stomach, the exhaustion in your body takes over quickly, and you’re asleep far more deeply than you thought you could be.

#Passing Fascination #one piece fanfiction #eustass kid #yandere #dark content #dead dove do not eat #x reader #reader insert

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intoxicated-chan · 1 year

Text

✦ 𝟎𝟎𝟏 ✦ 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐃𝐚𝐲...

© 2023 Intoxicated-Chan, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without permission. None of the photos used belong to me! Credits to @/cafekitsune for the divider!!

Series’ Masterlist // Wattpad Vers.

(A/n) // One thing I’m having trouble with is, will this be up to your guys standards? Will you guys be happy with the finally product? When it comes to posts like these, I always think twice and spend more time rewriting everything. But now I am like the final writing and I hope you guys as well. Thank you all for reading, and I thank you all. Also there are Saints Row references.

Content Warnings // The purchase of firearm ammo, guns, photo taking, mentions of scars…

Word Count // 1.3k

It was strange for a gun shop to open so late at night, but it was that time when I stepped in, that night when I finally met him…

“Welcome back.” The worker snickers at the blonde’s tired state, “Another rough night?” The blonde sadly nods as he walks into the employee’s room.

The next time, there was an accident. You were leaving the shop as he came in, you shoulder hit him, “I’m sorry.” You apologize.

“No worries.” He widely smiles.

And the next was when you finally got a better view of him. The worker and him were talking amongst themselves as you searched for a new gun, “So, I’ve already stocked most of the items, all you need to do is keep the ammo stocked up and dust. You didn’t do that last time.”

“Sorry.” He hangs his head in shame and then lifts it. He makes eye contact with you, waving with his prosthesis arm and with his usual wide smile.

You wave back at him. If you looked close enough, you could see a beauty mark under his left eye, he had orange round glasses that complimented his bright red jacket. His left arm seemed to be a prosthesis. There was just something about him that just spoke that this man was the embodiment of happiness.

“Vash!” The worker shook his shoulders, “Are you even listening to me?”

You couldn’t help but laugh when the blonde named Vash came up with an excuse for the last time he didn’t dust, “So, that’s his name. Vash.”

You slowly entered the shop, looking around for anyone but no one could be seen. You should’ve expected that when a small lamp was the only light source the shop had on at the moment. As you walked around, you let your index finger run over the table, collecting the forgotten dust. You rub it between your fingers before wiping it on your pants.

You see old weapons and materials left on shelves. You nearly trip on a plate, it clunks under your food. You pick it up and wipe the dust off it, looking over the design. It was carved into the plate. It was great and all but you were looking for someone.

Swallowing nervously, setting the plate to the side, “Hello?” Your voice sounded like a whisper, “Hello?” You try again, louder this time.

And this time, you could hear objects dropping, someone cursing as they made their way through the confusing placement of shelves. Slowly the voice got louder until the familiar man stood in front of you, “Welcome to Friendly Fire!” He stood proudly, arms crossed, and again, smiled widely, “How can I be of assistance?” Cocking his head to the side.

He radiates positive energy. Almost like a puppy, “I’d just like to buy some ammo.” You answer.

“Oh, then come with me.” He leads you to the register where he stands behind, “What kind of ammo would you like to purchase? We range from pistols to explosives.”

“Just a .44 and .45 Shepard.”

He hastily nods, typing a few things into his computer before looking at you, “May I see an ID?” You hand it to him. He takes a moment to look before handing it back to you, “How many?” He asks.

“Um, three for each please.”

He grabs his keys and opens the glass door, coming back up with the ammo in hand, “Here you go.” Typing a few more things, “And your total comes to $150, will you be paying cash or credit?”

“Cash.” Handing him the twenties and a single ten.

He takes the cash and counts, he pops open the register and places the cash in its place, “Would you like a bag?” Handing you the ammo, feeling his fingers slightly touch yours.

You shake your head, using your small bag to store the ammo, “Thank you.”

“No problem.” He smiles, “Have a wonderful night...” He watches you leave the store, “(Y/n).”

Now, you weren’t gonna say that you didn’t know the guy. It’s more like you come here as a regular, mainly because you have been training a good friend of yours. You only saw him when he was starting his shit, never ringing or helping you out until now.

‘How much of an idiot was I? Today was the perfect chance and I blew it!’

Vash very loudly whined like a beaten puppy. His head hitting the desk in defeat as his courage deflates. He was a fool.

But he perks back up, he’s quick to fix himself. With his head held up high and hair fixed, he’s again determined to try again.

‘All right, when I see her, I’ll try again.’

Vash jumps from behind a random shelf, “Welcome back- Oh no!” He catches your falling body but ends up falling with you, on top of you.

“Talk about enthusiasm.” You groan out in pain, hissing.

“I’m so sorry!” He apologizes, still on top of you. But he gets off, flustered and spitting out whatever appears to be an apology, “I-I didn’t mean to scare you!”

“I’m sure you didn’t.” Vash helps you stand.

“Um… I’m Vash!”

“I know your name.” You tell him, “I heard your co-worker say it, anyways, I’m (Y/n).”

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes, yes, you can stop worrying now.”

As you dust yourself off, Vash fixes his hair and clears his throat. Once you finish, “So, are you here to buy more ammo?”

You shake your head, “I’m just waiting for a friend. She went back to the car to grab her ID. She should be here-”

“I’m sorry I took so long!” Meryl pants, holding out her ID, “I got it!” Before she could say anything to you, she saw Vash, “Vash? I didn’t know you were working here?”

Vash awkwardly chuckles, “I told you a few days ago.”

“Like I was saying, Meryl placed a package. We’re just here to pick it up and register it.” You explain to Vash.

Vash nods, now standing behind the register, “Can I get a name and phone number?” You stand back as Meryl tells him the necessary information. After the ID check, he looks through the mountains of packages until he finds the one with her name on it, “Here you go.” Handing it to her, “Anything else?”

“Nope. Thanks Vash.”

“No problem, Meryl.” He clears his throat again, “Have a wonderful night, you guys.”

“You too.” Meryl responds.

4:42 AM - VASH’S HOUSE

It wasn’t everyday Vash found someone he could love, partially due to how much he over-thought everything, which is why his partners never stayed. His brother wasn’t much of a helper, even though he knew Nai cared for him, Nai believed he didn’t need anyone.

Vash tiredly slips off his jacket, then his turtleneck. The predominant scars over his body outlined everything he hated, especially his prosthesis. The second reason no one ever stayed. They found it disgusting, repulsive, even more so since prosthesis was nearly if not his entire arm. They saw him as a liability, nothing more.

But he remembers when your warm fingers touched his, it made his heart race. And if he was being honest, he wanted to spend more time with you, but when he saw Meryl… It wasn’t jealousy, more like it found it strange that she was hanging out with you. But the more he thought about it, the more it made his heart ache.

He falls back on his bed, grabbing his camera, he clicks through the many photos he had taken of you. All of them were of you, not noticing the camera. He smiled, feeling his face heat up.

It made him feel better, afterall, you only lived a few blocks away from him.

Taglist // @themaskismyface ,

#x reader #x female reader #vash x reader #trigun x reader #trigun stampede #trigun vash #trigun meryl #tw stalking #tw photo taking #x you #vash x y/n #vash x you

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totowlff · 2 years

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monaco nights

➝ request: an one-shot where toto and reader have a discussion but he kind to her even if he is angry at her

➝ word count: 5,9k

➝ warnings: a lot of alcohol consumption, insinuated sexual harrassment

➝ author’s note: i know i promised this one-shot for the weekend, but unfortunately, my routine wore me out unexpectedly and i took some time to rest my head. however, that doesn't mean we can't start the week off right. hope you like it!

You closed the lip gloss tube and rubbed your lips together, the gloss spreading over the layer of nude lipstick you'd put on earlier. You stepped back from the bathroom mirror, checking your makeup, looking for any flaws in your work. Your eyeliner framed your gaze, as did your full lashes, while your cheekbones shimmered with the glow of the highlighter you’d applied.

“Perfect”, you thought, flashing a confident smile. You put the gloss back in your makeup bag and stashed the bag back in the bathroom cabinet. You left the bathroom, satisfied with your work. You weren’t a professional makeup artist, but you knew enough to make yourself feel beautiful without being flamboyant. It was contradictory, but it was apt — after all, it was the perfect description for the small town you lived in, sandwiched between the Mediterranean and the French Alps.

“Glamorous, but small”, you thought as you walked toward the suite's king-size bed to pick up the small silver bag you’d chosen for the night.

Monaco has always fascinated you. Ever since you were little, it was amazing. Maybe it was the sea breeze swaying the sails of the boats moored in the marina, maybe it was the picturesque landscape that stretched out in front of the Palais des Princes de Monaco, or maybe it was the way the city came alive once Grand Prix season brough the races. It didn’t matter why, but it was your favorite place in the world.

In the last few months, Monaco has become even more special to you.

You slid open a mirrored door and entered the walk-in closet, feeling for the light switch along the wall. As you turned on the lights, a small room filled with clothes appeared in front of you. Suits, pants, shirts, shoes, all meticulously arranged. As you passed the rows of dress shirts hanging up, you couldn’t resist running your fingertips along the fabric, where they were monogrammed just above the waist. Your eyes locked on one of the shirts and you ran your fingertips across the threads, feeling the three letters.

TCW.

The monogram stood for Torger Christian Wolff, or, simply “Toto”, as he’d introduced himself to you when you met him at the Grand Prix de Monaco Historique that had been held in Monte-Carlo in May.

You were a member of the organizing committee for the race, and worked for the Automobile Club de Monaco, so it was expected that you’d participate in that weekend’s activities. However, even outside of work, you had a passion for motorsport that meant that you followed everything closely, including the cars participating in the exhibition races and laps.

During one of your walks through the pit area, you found the team principal of the Mercedes-AMG Petronas Formula 1 team standing next to a red car with a familiar name painted on the bodywork.

— This is my favorite — you heard him say after a few seconds, as he stood beside you.

Lifting your face to look at Toto, you raised an eyebrow.

— Favorite car?

— Among the ones Niki drove? Yes.

— Any particular reason?

— Because it was his least favorite.

— Why? — you asked.

Toto's eyes met yours with a mischievous gleam.

— Because it was a shitbox.

You looked away at the car, a shy smile on your lips.

— You know you're talking about a Ferrari.

— Those are Niki’s words, not mine.

— I assume you agree with them, Mr. Wolff — you said, looking up at him again.

— I've always trusted my friend's judgment, miss, uh — he hesitated for a second, trying to read your name from the name tag around your neck.

— Y/L/N — you said, extending your hand to him — Y/N Y/L/N, I'm part of the event's organizing committee.

He shook your hand.

— It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Y/L/N.

To your surprise, the connection between you was almost immediate. There was something about those dark eyes and infectious smile that drew you in, like a moth drawn to flame, or metal to a magnet.

In the end, falling in love with Toto Wolff was inevitable, as was your first kiss, shared outside of your apartment on a warm June night. Even more inevitable was agreeing to his request that you be his girlfriend, after he presented you with a black velvet box with a delicate ring — a promise ring — nestled inside.

Walking to the back of the closet, you bent down slightly to pick up a pair of shoes from one of the shelves. It was a pair of your shoes that you’d left at his house on the frequent occasions where you stayed over. He had already asked you to live with him in the sumptuous penthouse he owned across from Plage du Larvotto, but it was important to you that you still had your own place, at least for now. Your hesitance to move in with him resulted in each of you having space in the other’s wardrobes, bathrooms, and refrigerator shelves.

It could be simpler, you knew that, but something inside of you urged you to not rush things in the relationship, and moving in with him was a big step.

You walked down the hallway leading to the living room with your strappy silver heels in one hand and your purse in the other. The penthouse was decorated in elegant shades of white, gray, and turquoise, and was tastefully appointed. Toto was sitting on the white sofa, reading something intently on his iPad — probably the Financial Times, or emails from Brackley about progress on the W14.

You settled down on the couch next to him, putting your shoes on the floor to slip them on and buckle the clasp, one after another, in silence. You stood up, straightening the hem of your dress, as it had started to ride up a bit.

— Mon chou? — Toto said, his tone laden with hesitation.

— Yeah? — you turned to face him.

A few seconds of silence later, your boyfriend asked the question you least expected to hear from him.

— Are you going out… Like that? — he asked, in a quiet voice.

Your gaze shifted from his face, down to your outfit. You’d put on a body-hugging navy blue satin dress. It clung to your curves, leaving little to the imagination. It wasn’t outrageously short or low-cut, but it was definitely sexy.

— Yes, I’d planned to — you replied, smiling awkwardly — Why?

Toto pressed his lips together, trying to consider his words carefully.

— Don't you think — he paused for a few seconds — That dress might cause you a bit of… Trouble?

The smile faded from your face.

— What do you mean, trouble?

— Well, I saw it riding up when you stood up, and…

— It only went up a little, no big deal — you said, grabbing your purse off of the couch. You opened it to check to make sure you had everything you needed.

— It wasn't just a little bit — he muttered, quietly.

You sighed, trying to contain your irritation. You definitely didn’t want to argue with your boyfriend about your choice in clothing. You realized that your cell phone wasn't in your purse and walked back to the bedroom to retrieve it. When you returned, Toto was still looking at you. He looked uncomfortable.

— Mon chou, don't you think you'd better bring at least a coat?

— Why? — you asked, your irritation apparent in your voice — It's not cold out.

— Well, it might get cold later — he said — And I wouldn't want you to be so…

— Exposed? — you supplied, cutting him off.

— Yeah — he said, softly — Exposed.

You looked at him for a few seconds, wondering if he was joking. Toto never said anything about the clothes you wore — quite the contrary, he normally showered you with compliments. You weren’t sure what problem he could be having now, and you needed to find out.

— I've worn this dress before, though, and you didn't think I was overly exposed then — you said, glancing quickly at the time on your cell phone screen.

— Because we were together then, Y/N.

— You mean I can only wear this dress when I’m with you? — you said, a little indignantly.

— No, that's not it…

— So, what is it?

Toto stared at you in silence.

— Come on, Toto, say something — you growled.

— You can wear whatever you want, I just think that dress is… It exposes you a bit too much, and considering where you're going and the fact that you'll be without male companionship, you'd be better off wearing something more conservative...

You shook your head.

— Are you hearing what you're saying?

— Y/N, I'm just thinking about your safety…

— My safety? — you said in a sneering tone — Since when do you care about my safety, Toto?

He got up from the couch, approaching you.

— From the moment I realized that I love you — he said, reaching for your hand. You pulled it out of his reach.

— If you really loved me, you would accept the way I dress without question.

— Y/N, I'm not questioning the way you dress, I'm just…

— You are, though — you exclaimed, annoyed.

— I just don't want anything to happen to you, Y/N — he said, frustration rising in his voice.

— Nothing will happen to me, Toto.

— What if something does? There's a lot of weird guys out there and I won't be around...

— As if you’d be able to do anything — you spat.

— I'm not useless, Y/N.

— Well, neither am I. Just because I'm a woman doesn’t mean that I don't know how to defend myself.

He swallowed hard.

— Mon chou, please…

— Don't even start with that 'mon chou' thing, Torger! I'm not going to change my clothes just to please your controlling ass.

— I'm not being controlling! — he yelled.

— What do you call telling me to change, then? — you yelled back.

— I'm just trying to take care of you, Y/N!

You laughed bitterly.

— Taking care of me? You call that taking care of me? Soon, you’ll be not allowing me to go out with my friends! Soon, you’ll be telling me that I can’t have a job outside of the home! Soon, you’ll have an issue with the fact that I have my own life! You’ll want me to just stay home, waiting for you to come back from your damned races and doing… Who knows what, or who else!

— You're not implying — he growled, stepping forward, his face inches from yours.

— I didn't imply anything, Torger — you said, sarcastically.

— Y/N…

— I just want to make it clear that if you want a woman to be as your trophy, who you can bring to your events to hang on your arm like a fucking doll, then you've picked the wrong woman.

— I don't want a doll...

— Oh, yes you do, I’ve seen it in your eyes that you do — you said in a low, almost teasing voice — But it’s not going to be me.

Toto was silent, clearly exercising a great deal of control so as to not lose his temper.

— You can control your companies, your staff, your kids, whatever the fuck, but you can’t control me, Torger Christian Wolff.

— I’m not trying to control you! — he yelled, gesticulating violently.

— Yes, you are! — you said, almost yelling again — You want an ornament for you to put on your fucking arm and take to fucking FIA parties. You want a woman who will accept anything without question, who will be silent, who will do whatever you want...

— Fuck, Y/N, I'm your boyfriend! Not your owner! — he grumbled.

— I'm glad you realize that, Torger! — you yelled in his face — You don't own me and you never will!

He hesitated for a moment, putting a hand to his face.

— You know what? — Toto said, his voice terrifyingly serene — Do what you want, Y/N.

— Good! I will! — you yelled, going with heavy steps towards the door — You can’t tell me what I should or shouldn’t do!

Toto didn't have a comeback, which you thought was a good sign you’d won the argument. However, as soon as you put your hand on the doorknob, you heard him say your name behind you. You resisted for a few seconds the urge to turn away, however, when he repeated your name, you looked at him.

Your eyes met for a moment, but whatever words he wanted to say to you got lost on their way to his lips.

With an incredulous chuckle, you just muttered a single sentence.

— Don't wait up for me.

Slamming the penthouse door, you walked to the elevator, slamming your fist on the button. Taking a deep breath, you felt like crying, feeling the tears building up in your eyes.

But you wouldn't give Toto the satisfaction, not tonight. “I'm going to have fun tonight”, you thought.

The walk to Jimmy'z didn’t really help calm you down. The click of your heels against the sidewalk, which would have normally been a comforting sound, was swallowed up by the sound of the engines of the luxury cars crossing Avenue Princesse Grace, as well as the conversations of tourists, and the wind that swayed the treetops in your path.

When you arrived at the entrance to the Monte-Carlo Bay Hotel complex, where the nightclub was located, you saw your friends Noémi, Carmen, and Marion waiting for your arrival. They all looked a little impatient. You smiled at them and waved at them across the street. After crossing to the other side, you approached them and they immediately welcomed you with hugs and smiles.

— Finally, Y/N! — Marion said, tucking a lock of blond hair behind her ear — We were already thinking you'd managed to get lost in here.

— No, just had a — you hesitated for a few seconds — Mishap with the dress.

— Well, I’m glad you figured it out, because you look beautiful — Carmen said, a wide smile on her red lips.

— Thank you — you forced a smile, trying to disguise the mix of sadness and anger that a piece of clothing had put you through.

— Shall we go inside? — Noémi asked, putting a hand on your shoulder and the other on Marion's arm.

— Yes, let's go — you said, quickly.

The night passed in a blur through your eyes. Empty shot glasses from tequila shots were piling up on your table, glowing under the neon lights. There were also tall glasses from mojitos, margarita coupettes, and the glasses from the champagne you'd consumed inside the club, all to the sound of the lively conversation and rhythmic beats that came from the speakers.

However, you were not having a good time. You were sitting in front of that mess of glasses and shiny bags with your makeup smeared by the tears falling down your face. Your sobs were drowned out by the loud music, but those close to your table could hear them. Next to you, Carmen had her hands on your shoulders, attempting to comfort you, with little success.

— He was right, Carmen — you sobbed, your hands gripping your arms, crossed tightly over your body, as if you could protect yourself. You felt helplessness, anger, and guilt, all mixing in the pit of your stomach.

— Y/N, it’s not your fault — your friend spoke into your ear, bringing her thumb up to your cheek and wiping away a tear that was running down.

— I should have listened to him, I should have changed my dress — you said, the words dragging on your tongue. You had been drinking way more than you should have.

— No, that’s not it, Y/N — Carmen said, lifting your face — You have the right to wear what you want, as well as the right to be respected for it.

Your friend's words caused more tears to fall from your eyes. Carmen muttered something that was covered by the music and wrapped you in an awkward hug. With your head resting on her shoulder, you continued sobbing, tears dark from your makeup falling onto your friend's green dress. At that moment, you only wanted one thing.

— Toto — you mumbled against her shoulder.

— What? — she asked you, turning your face away from her shoulder.

— Toto — you repeated, between sobs — I want Toto.

— Okay, Y/N, I'll take you to him. I'll let the girls know we’re leaving and I’ll take you to his apartment, okay?

You nodded, sniffling, as Carmen got up from the table and disappeared into the crowd to find Marion and Noémi, enjoying themselves on the dancefloor.

A few minutes later, she returned and, with a tap on your shoulder, signaled you to leave the nightclub.

The walk to Toto's penthouse was tortuous and slow. The alcohol in your body kept you from balancing in your high-heeled shoes. After nearly spraining your right ankle for what felt like the third time, you stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, annoyed, and began to unbuckle your sandals.

— This fucking shoe — you muttered, throwing one of them to the ground.

However, the other seemed to be stuck on your foot, making frustration grow inside your chest and causing tears to well up in your eyes. Taking a deep breath, you leaned your head back against the wall behind you, trying to calm down.

Carmen, realizing that you were having issues, bent down and unbuckled your sandal. She took the pair of shoes and grabbed your hand, urging you to follow her the few meters left between you and the entrance to Toto’s building. Trying to unlock the front door, you opened your bag and started looking for your key, but after fiddling around awkwardly in your purse for a few seconds, you huffed.

— Let me get it — your friend said, taking your purse and finding the keys in a matter of seconds. You were completely confused by the way she'd managed to find them so quickly and watched her open the entrance door.

— How? — you muttered, pointing to the key.

— Never mind — she said, placing your purse, key, and shoes in your hands — Do you want me to go upstairs or can you go it alone from here?

— I'll go alone — you replied, trying to organize everything she’d set in your hands.

— Alright, Y/N. Go upstairs, take a shower, take some aspirin, and go to sleep, okay?

— Okay — you said in a thin voice, walking robotically toward the elevator.

— Good night, Y/N — you heard Carmen say behind you, to which you responded with something that sounded more like a growl than words. You pressed the button and the doors instantly opened. You staggered into the elevator car, clumsily hitting the top floor equivalent button, leaning your forehead against the polished metal wall, and closed your eyes.

“Tonight was a mistake”, you thought.

After the elevator doors opened on the top floor, you walked slowly to the apartment door. You tried to put the key into the lock a few times before accidentally hitting the handle and finding it unlocked.

You opened the door carelessly, you only remembered that you had told Toto not to wait up for you when you realized the lights in the house were off.

“Shit”, you said quietly, as you slowly closed the door. You set your things down carefully on the sideboard in the entranceway, trying not to make any noise, and staggered down the hall, guided through the darkness by a light coming from the living room.

However, upon stepping into the living room, you found Toto awake and sitting next to the lamp — you hadn’t expected that.

— Y/N — he said, getting up quickly — Did something happen? I tried calling you all night, but you didn't answer.

— Yes — you replied, your voice a little choked by the lump growing in your throat — It happened.

Toto noticed that your makeup had run off from with your tears, leaving a gray path on your skin. He put his hands on your cheeks and stroked the marks gently with his thumb.

— What happened?

— You were right — you muttered, staring into space. You didn't have the courage to look Toto in the eyes after everything you'd said to him hours before, especially after everything that had happened — There were a bunch of strange men at Jimmy'z today.

— Did they do something to you? Did they touch you?

— No, they just — you hesitated, the memory making you feel a little nauseous — They said things to me when I went to the bathroom.

— What did they say?

— They said that — you stopped again, the nausea growing stronger, your mouth filling with saliva.

Before you knew it, you'd staggered into the bathroom, kneeling in front of the toilet, and started vomiting. You felt your abdominal muscles contract to expel everything in your stomach.

Eventually, you stopped long enough to lift your head out of the bowl, panting from the effort your body had made to rid itself of the exorbitant amount of alcohol you'd been drinking, that you realized Toto was kneeling behind you, one hand holding your hair away from your face, the other one, rubbing your back.

— You didn't have to do that — you said quietly, swiping the back of your hand over your mouth. You flushed the toilet and sat on the bathroom floor, still unable to look Toto in the face. A mixture of guilt and shame was building up in your chest.

— Didn’t have to do what? — he asked, tucking a few strands of your hair carefully behind your ear.

— Well, this — you gestured with your hand between the toilet and your body.

— I'm just doing what I wish they had done for me last December.

You looked up at Toto and found him with a slight smile on his face.

— What happened in December? — you asked.

— Well, more or less, I drank way too much tequila during the constructors' title celebrations. After I ended up crowd surfing at the afterparty and losing my shirt, I spent a while clinging to the toilet in my hotel room, bringing up everything I’d drank that night.

Your lips curved into a shy smile.

— The hangover must have been awful.

— It was — he laughed, taking your hand — But yours will be worse if we don’t get you taken care of.

— What can we do? — you asked, looking at Toto's hand, his thumb lightly stroking your skin.

— Come with me — he said, rising up off the ground and helping you up with him.

Once you were both standing, he led you down the hall slowly, taking care for you to not trip over your own feet in the process. Once you were in the bedroom, you went straight to the ensuite bathroom, where Toto led you to the black quartz sink.

Then, he turned you around and grabbed you by the waist, boosting you up to sit on the countertop. The contact of your warm skin against the cold stone countertop made you giggle.

— What's the matter? — he asked you.

— It's cold — you said, swinging your feet against the cabinet.

With a smile, he bent down and opened the cabinet right below you, looking for something.

— Where is it? — Toto muttered to himself — Oh, here.

He put your makeup bag on the countertop, unzipping it and rummaging through the contents, trying to find something.

— What are you looking for? — you asked.

— Those wipes you use to remove your makeup.

— Oh, it's in that bag — you said, absentmindedly.

Toto took a long breath.

That was definitely not the answer he needed.

To make the search easier, Toto began pulling out the makeup items from your bag. First came a gloss and a lipstick, then an eyeshadow kit, a stick highlighter and a liquid blush, and then it was the turn of foundation and compact powder. Then, a few seconds later, he set a small, slightly crumpled lilac packet down on top of the sink.

— Oh, that's it — you exclaimed, pointing to the package.

— These are the wipes? — Toto asked, taking the package in his hand and studying it.

— Yes — you replied, smiling.

Putting all of your makeup back in the case, he opened the package and took out a damp wipe. Then, folding it over, Toto approached you and started rubbing it on your face, the wet sensation making you flinch and laugh. Your reaction brought a small smile to his face.

— What's the problem?

— It tickles and it’s cold — you smiled, as he brought the wipe back to your face, in a new attempt to clean your skin. However, all he had to do was start wiping your cheek with a concentrated look that made you again, turning your face away from him.

— Y/N — he sighed.

— You look so cute when you’re concentrating — you said between giggles.

— You know what would make you look cute, mon chou? — Toto asked in a low voice, placing his hands on the sides of your thighs, a sly smile on his lips. The sight of him bending over you like that sent a wave of heat through your body toward your pussy.

— If I was naked, with you inside me — you whispered, bringing your hand up to his cheek, caressing it.

— No, Y/N — he said quietly — You'd look very cute sitting still for me so I can finish wiping your face. Can you do that for me?

You blinked, processing the response. You definitely weren't expecting that. Judging from the smug smile on Toto's face, he knew he'd taken you by surprise. You nodded and sat still long enough for him to finish.

Watching Toto's expression as he brushed the smudges of eyeliner and mascara off your cheeks, you felt something tighten in your chest. It was Saturday night, and instead of sleeping, he was taking care of you — cleaning off your makeup for you after a silly argument over a dress.

— Toto? — you said softly.

— Yes? — he muttered.

— Are you still mad at me?

He looked into your eyes for a few seconds, as if he was trying to carefully choose his words.

— Let's talk about it in the morning, Y/N — he replied, dropping the dirty makeup remover wipe that was in his hand on the sink and reaching for another to continue cleaning your face in silence.

— But, I want to talk about it now — you said, after a few seconds of hesitation.

— You're in no condition to have a conversation about it, Y/N.

— Yes, I am, Toto.

He lowered his hand from your face and looked at you seriously.

— Y/N, I'm not going to argue with you right now, I’m tired, and you’re drunk.

— Well, you know what they say, drunken words are sober thoughts — you muttered.

— After today, I'd rather you keep your thoughts to yourself.

His words hit you like a punch in the stomach. “He's still mad at me”, you thought, pressing your lips together.

However, you couldn’t fault Toto for being upset with you, especially considering everything you'd said to him.

Not only did you piss him off, you called him controlling, possessive, and insinuated that he cheated on you. Yet, he was there in front of you, cleaning your skin, touching you like you were the most precious thing in the world.

You had fucked up.

— I'm done — Toto said, picking up the dirty wipes and throwing them in the trash.

Silently, you slid your hips across the sink, settling on your feet in front of the counter. You turned to the mirror, finding your face immaculately clean, without a trace of makeup.

— Thanks — you said in a low voice, looking at Toto through the reflection.

— No problem — Toto muttered, exiting the bathroom and leaving you alone. You stared into your own gaze in the mirror, your throat tightening.

You had definitely fucked up.

Once you left the bathroom, you noticed one of Toto’s t-shirts on the bed. It was neatly folded, as if it was waiting for you. Running your fingers over the gray fabric, you hesitated for a few seconds, trying to figure out what it was sitting there for. It took you a few minutes to connect the dots.

— He got me a change of clothes — you muttered to yourself.

As you unzipped the zipper on the side of the dress, the blue satin sagged around your body, falling to your feet. You stripped down to your underwear — it was white lace, but it was comfortable enough to sleep in. You took the t-shirt off of the bed and pulled it over your head. You shoved it on unceremoniously and you were soon enveloped in the familiar scent that permeated the fabric.

As you dropped your body onto the bed, you felt your heart sink, guilt consuming you like a fire in the dry vegetation. It didn't take long for the tears to start running down your face again, falling onto the gray fabric. “Dumb, dumb, dumb”, you thought.

You heard footsteps echoing down the hall that made you look up with a sniffle, your hands quickly drying your cheeks. You tried to take a few breaths to try to stave off the tightness in your throat as you looked toward the door and saw Toto come in with a glass of water in one hand and a pill in the other.

— What’s that?

— Ibuprofen — he said, placing the pill in your hand — To help with the hangover.

You brought the pill to your tongue and took the glass of water, taking a generous swig. When you took the glass away from your lips, Toto already had his hand stretched out to you.

— Thanks — you whispered, handing him the glass.

— No problem — he said, his cold tone piercing you like a stab wound.

Watching Toto walk towards the bedside table and put down your glass, you started to wonder if you should say anything.

However, you knew that no matter what you said, it wouldn't be enough to really express what you felt, much less to assuage the anger he was feeling towards you.

“But if he's angry, why would he do all this?”, you wondered, as he went to the bathroom and turned off the light.

His eyes met your and his serious mask dissolved almost instantly.

— Y/N? You are crying?

You hadn't even felt the tears running down your face again. You sniffled, trying to dry them quickly.

— No…

Toto approached you and bent down in front of you, hands resting on your knees. His expression was a silent request for you to open up to him and tell him what was bothering you.

You'd seen that look many times.

— I'm a shitty person — you spluttered, more tears falling from your eyes.

— You're not a shitty person, Y/N — Toto said, his right thumb stroking your skin.

— How am I not, Toto? Did you hear the things I said to you?

He sighed.

— Yes, I did.

— Fuck. I said all that, left, pissed at you. Everything you were afraid of happening actually happened, and instead of you saying something like 'I told you so' or 'you deserved it', you just hold my hair back for me as I throw up in your nice bathroom — you continued — And then, you take off my makeup for me, give me medicine, and set out some clothes for me so I can sleep in your bed.

— Do you know why I did all of that, Y/N?

You shook your head.

— It was the same reason I wanted you to take at least a coat with you — Toto whispered, wiping a tear that was halfway down your cheek — Because I love you.

— Why?

— Why… Why do I love you?

— No. Why did you want me to take a coat?

— Do you remember the first time you wore that dress?

You nodded. The occasion stood out in your mind — it was at a party put on by IWC in Berlin over the past summer. It had been one of your first appearances with Toto, practically a public declaration of your relationship. That night, you had worn the dress with some other accessories. You thought you looked elegant and drop-dead sexy.

— I didn't tell you this, but during the party, while you were dancing, I saw some guys looking at you in a… Weird way. They were pointing at you and talking about you. It looked like they were planning something.

— Is that why you came to the dance floor with me?

— Exactly. Even though I was a disaster, I stayed with you to discourage them. Unfortunately this world is full of bad people and I didn't want to risk anything happening to you.

You sniffled.

— When you said you were going out in that dress, I got nervous. Obviously, you have the right to wear whatever you want and, by the way, you look stunning in it. But I was so afraid something would happen to you, and this time, I wouldn't be there to help you.

Your eyes focused on the movement of Toto's thumb against his skin. You didn't have the courage to look into his eyes.

— I found myself in a dilemma, Y/N. Either I could try to warn you, or I could say nothing and brood over everything that could happen because there are men out there who just don't know how to respect a woman wearing an outfit she likes. I decided to take a chance, thinking you would understand my concerns. But your reaction was, how should I say…

— Explosive? — you stammered.

— Yeah — he replied — I won't say I wasn't offended by what you said. It's not easy to hear the ones you love call you things you were pretty sure you weren't until that moment. Useless, controlling, possessive…

You pursed your lips. He had never been any of that.

— But the hardest thing to hear was the insinuation that I had already cheated on you.

Your eyes met his.

— Where did you get that idea from? — Toto asked.

— I grew up here, Toto. I always heard the stories of drivers who took advantage of the private parties to cheat on their partners. You remember what happened to Pérez this year…

He sighed.

— I spent all night wondering if I'd given you reason to distrust me, if I'd done something that planted a seed of doubt in your head. I've always tried to make it clear that you're the only woman I want — Toto said, drying off another tear — You are the love of my life, Y/N.

You brought your hand to his face, your thumb caressing his skin.

— I don't deserve you, Toto.

His lips curved into a shy smile.

— Yes, you do deserve me, mon chou. And I deserve you.

The silence stretched for a few seconds.

— Can you forgive me?

— Yes, Y/N — he answered you, taking your hand and placing a gentle kiss on the palm — I forgive you.

You smiled a genuine smile for the first time that night.

— Will you lay down with me?

— Yes, Y/N — Toto said, standing from where he was kneeling.

You settled back into the king-sized bed, and watched Toto lie down beside you, sliding across the mattress towards you. You nestled your head against his chest, feeling him envelop you in a tight embrace. You were lulled into a light doze by the sound of his heartbeat.

Some time later, you felt him press his nose to your head and sniff.

— You should have probably taken a shower, mon chou.

— Why? — you asked.

— You still smell like a nightclub — Toto muttered.

— Fuck you — you laughed, hugging him tighter.

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