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#reve's quirky reverie 🕷
reveluving ¡ 7 months
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the bump in the night ; rick flag x reader
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summary: someone made Mrs Flag cry, and her family is not having it.
warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, shadow-magic f!reader, reverse comfort & humour!
a/n: this AU is based on this piece I made a while back, 'cause you already know I can't do this special without hubby Rick and the kids! hope you enjoy it & don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ
» wanna know what I have in store this fall? come & check out my m.list for 'reve's quirky reverie 🕷️'!
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'For now, they had a plan, hoping it could bring a smile to your face.' ;
Coming home to his daughter's hugs had become an everyday thing if Rick didn't have to work overtime, but if the flicker of sadness in her eyes was anything to go by, something had to have happened while he was away.
“Mrs Bedford was saying bad stuff to mama while we were at the park.” 
It was the same thing she told her brothers when they got home from school, and just like them, it was enough for Rick to get the whole picture.
Ah, Mrs Bedford. Or as the neighbourhood youngsters, children and teenagers alike, like to call her 'the modern witch of the road', and not in the cool way. Her husband was no better, always bugging you at any given opportunity. The worst part was Mrs Bedford always antagonized you for it, even if she knew you didn’t entertain her husband’s behaviour. It was also extremely hypocritical of her, considering she herself has tried to make her move on Rick. A lot. Only to be met with disappointment each time. 
Her children were just as bad, too, to put it lightly.
“What did she say?” It was the green light Irene needed before she explained what had happened to a T, courtesy of her father’s eagle eye. Unlike most days, it was just you and Irene visiting the park since your sons had football practice. 
The two of you were feeding the ducks when Mrs Bedford came up to you.
“You on your own?” Was the first thing she asked you before you questionably said ‘yes’, despite Irene being there too, and the little girl realized Mrs Bedford wouldn’t have gone off on a tangent about you and your ‘possibly tainted history’ if her father or brothers were around in the first place.
“I don’t know what you did but I can see it in your eyes, Flag. You’re no saint. You can fool the others with your little flower shop and your so-called angelic kids, but not me.”
Though Mrs Bedford knew nothing about your powers or your time in Belle Reve, instead, spewing hate out of jealousy and hatred for you for being the favourable neighbour, she wasn’t completely wrong. You have hurt people, you’ve even killed some, but they were for the greater good. Since your freedom from hell on earth, you’ve barely used your umbrakineses. It wasn’t until the birth of your children, to which all three of them gained your abilities did you realized you couldn’t run from who you really were—it wasn’t right nor fair to them.
Then, telling them your story as a criminal and how their dad was once your enemy was another thing. You weren’t sure what reaction you were expecting, but it was certainly not amazement and sparkles in their eyes. As they grew older, they began to make sense of how their parents somehow knew people like Aunt Harley, Uncle Robert and hell, even Nanaue.
And at that point in time, Mrs Bedford reminded you of Waller, turning you into submission as you could do nothing but listen to her make a mockery out of you for turning over a new leaf. Irene had to watch your face drop as the woman insulted you, and she knew she had to tell her family about it. 
Irene insisted that she was fine about heading home early, even if you tried to convince her otherwise. She wanted nothing more than to do something about that glazed look in your eyes.
As soon as you stepped foot into the living room, a tear rolled down your cheek. You couldn't help but apologize to her, to everyone if they were with you then. You weren’t entirely sure if it was because you seemed weak over a bunch of words or their fate of ending up with you as the wife and a mother of their family.
Irene shook her head, hugging you with her face in your tummy.
"You're not a mean person, mama. You're the nicest and coolest mama we could ever ask for, and we love you." 
It was simple, something you've heard of thousands of times in your lifetime, but you very much needed it today.
Ever the sweet girl, she accompanied you as you lay in your bed, telling you random stories about what she painted during art class or what she ate at lunch, anything but the time Mrs Bedford’s son, Kyle pushed her off the swing while his older brother, Blake laughed and praised him for doing so. You didn’t need to know that. 
Not yet.
You listened with a warm smile, embarrassed but nonetheless thankful for how observant she was of your feelings before eventually dozing off. 
Irene was careful yet quick to jump off the bed, running downstairs to shush Richie and Ethan as they returned home. 
The more she explained, the brighter their eyes unnaturally glowed. Richie was starting to look like their father as he crossed his arms, listening to her like a police officer, while Ethan seemed like he was already thinking of ways to counter the Bedford’s undignified acts.
Basically, the Bedfords were not the greatest people. Each and every one of them. 
Though they had a myriad of ideas, they weren’t sure how much their father would appreciate it, even if it was for your sake. Still, they thanked Irene for being there for you, promising that something would be done, no matter what it would be.
For now, they had a plan, hoping it could bring a smile to your face.
After an unexpected nap, you came down to find your kids huddled on the couch, whispering and hushing each other. Curious, you approached them.
Ethan was the first to notice you, offering you a grin before showing you what was in their hands, “Look, ma, I think we got it.” 
You leaned in to take a closer look, only for your breath to hitch at the sight of life on their palms. There, they showed you the differing mass of shadows they conjured, a tougher one you just taught them about a week ago. You have always loved this trick as a kid, and it only aided your sanity when you were by your lonesome in the penitentiary. In a way, you were replacing what life truly was by making your own, even if they were temporary because there was no telling when or if you’d ever be free. 
Yet, here they were, prompting joy and pride as they held the wispy animals of their choice; Richie with what seemed to be an adorable little puppy, Ethan creatively emulated a bioluminescent jellyfish and Irene…
Oh, Irene.
She scarcely remembered how much you loved making her laugh by conjuring butterflies when she was still very little if not for the twins confirming it. 
The butterfly was as small as her hand, but the wings were majestic, idly flapping before flying over to you, leaving cloudy black trails and landing on your outstretched finger. 
You stared at their creations ever so lovingly, already on the brink of tears. You were just as mad at yourself for doubting your worth, and your potential, just because of the things you had to do in the past, for the sake of the person you were now.
You embraced Irene in a tight hug before pulling your boys in as well. You sniffled, absolutely joyous and blessed to be surrounded by the most loving people. Nothing could deter you from this, not even as the shadow puppy yipped and chased the jellyfish and butterfly in excitement. Your cat, Tofu, must’ve heard the commotion, too, as she came from the kitchen to check, only to be frightened and jump on the couch with you as the puppy came running to her.
Rick finally arrived about two hours later, coming home to hear laughter before he saw Irene running across the room, followed by Tofu and the shadow puppy in tow. The jellyfish laid on Richie’s head like a nest whereas the butterfly decided to make Ethan’s shoulder its home as they hung out with you on the couch.
“Daddy!” Irene greeted him before running over to him. He didn’t question the questioning look she gave him just yet and instead, hoisted her up, laughing as Tofu and the puppy pawed at his bootlaces.
“What’s going on here?” He raised his brows, amused by what could be described as a fever dream of a sight.
“The kids learnt how to make little lives.” You giggled, allowing Rick to sit next to you as you scooted over.
“And I got a new hat,” Richie gestured to the jellyfish, who he has now dubbed as Jelly. As if it understood, Jelly immediately floated away, leaving Richie’s hair flattened, “Never mind.”
You shared a laugh as he deadpanned before you turned to Rick, “Was work okay?”
“Yeah, the usual. Decorated the place today, actually.” He took his phone out of his pocket, opening his gallery and showing you and the kids the spookily tacky decor that furnished his workplace.
“Did you really paint ‘dead inside, don’t open’ on the entrance door?” The twins gawked.
“Fitting, ain't it?” Rick joked, prompting smiles and chuckles from you once more before falling back on the couch, “But at least I’m off tomorrow, so I was thinking we could eat out for dinner.”
“Oh! We should head to Pop’s since they’re also offering their apple betty.” Ethan suggested.
“Well, I think that’s a good idea, so,” Richie trailed off, raising anticipation from the rest of you before jumping off the couch and running up the stairs. Ethan and Irene simultaneously gasped before the former took his sister out of Rick’s arms to chase their brother together. You and Rick could only watch with delight as Tofu and the shadow creatures followed them too.
“Everything okay?” He wanted to know, but he wouldn’t pry if you weren’t ready to tell him.
“Yeah,” You nodded, gazing down for a moment before continuing, “Something happened earlier but…”
“Richie! You better not lock the door or I swear to God!” Ethan’s voice rang out from upstairs, followed by Irene’s ‘language!’, and you couldn’t help but shake your head in amusement. 
“It’s all good now.” You reassured him. You knew you could’ve told him, but it wasn’t worth dwelling on. You had children to nurture and a husband to take on the world with.
“The Bedfords?” He guessed. If it wasn’t them, then it had to be Mr Walker.
“The Bedfords,” You confirmed with a tight smile, “I’m just more upset that Irene was there to hear it.”
You didn’t explain any further and Rick took it as a sign to drop it. If they were able to make you this upset, then it was best to ask the kids instead. 
“I’m sorry,” He pulled you to his chest, planting a slow and gentle kiss on your forehead. He rubbed your back, sighing at the very mention of that family. Rick loathed that they were influential enough to be one of the higher-ups of the school’s PTA, though he was confident that money was involved in it too. He hated that they were reasons why you’d come home ranting about how Mrs Bedford bugged you again, or when he had to make sure Mr Bedford knew he was making a promise and not an empty threat whenever it involved their kids and his, "You know I can talk to them." 
It would do no good, but it was worth trying. 
"No, you know how the Bedfords are. Don’t worry, okay? Not now,” You kissed the inside of his palm before pressing your lips against his, soft, sensual and safe. Rick moved forward, deepening the kiss as held the nape of your neck. You pulled away but not before nuzzling his nose, “We should be celebrating.”
He nodded, though he knew it would only linger in his mind for a while. Still, he adhered to your wishes, standing up before offering you his hand to get ready, “Right, right. Shall we?”
You snorted, placing your hand in his the way a princess would when a prince asks for a dance. Unexpectedly, he twirled you around, wrapping his arms around you he pulled you in, chest to chest. You playfully smacked him, though it did very little to wipe off the pleased look on his face as the two of you headed to your room. 
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You and the boys were the first to head out to the front yard, chatting and evaluating the decors of the houses while waiting for Rick and Irene. 
“What happened today?” He asked his daughter quietly as they stood at the front door, helping with her shoes while she slid on a jacket. 
“Mrs Bedford was saying bad stuff to mama while we were at the park.” She whispered back, swinging her arms as she watched her father tie her shoelace, “Like, really mean stuff. No one was around except us so she was kinda loud, too.”
Rick fumed, clenching his jaw as he could already hear and picture whatever nonsense she loved to spit out. 
“Mama got kinda quiet when we came home, and then she started crying. About how she’s sorry she was a criminal and how we’re ‘stuck’ with her powers.” She added. If anything, she and the boys thought your abilities were the coolest thing to have ever happened to them. 
He shook his head—who wouldn't crack after being subjected to their ways for so long? He hummed, hiding the seething resentment by ruffling Irene's hair.
"Can you help me distract your mother while I talk to the boys for a bit?" She nodded diligently, skipping over to you before Rick called out to his sons, "Need some help, boys." 
They rushed over, glancing at you before Ethan spoke up first, "She told you?" 
"Yeah." Rick replied as he locked the door.
"Can't we do something about it?" Richie asked with a frown.
"You boys are not punching Blake again." Rick reminded them with a small smile. 
"You didn't seem to mind it," Ethan mirrored his father's amusement, "He was yelling at our teammate and encouraged his troll brother to push Irene off a swing." 
"I'm mad, too," Rick was more than mad, but he couldn't let his emotions run wild, "Look, we'll think of something, alright? For now, just make sure she's happy." 
That's all they ever wanted.
The drive to Pop's was a lively one, and so was the dinner itself. Though you knew you'd be thinking about Mrs Bedford's words every once in a while, the smiles and laughter of your family were already a welcoming distraction as it is. 
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Midnight rolled around, and everyone had returned to their rooms with sore cheeks and a full stomach. You were the first to slip under the covers after a shower, hoping you wouldn't be too tired as you waited for Rick, though it didn't work.
By the time Rick got out of the bathroom, you were peacefully asleep, your face just a breath away from your husband's pillow as his scent soothed you like no other. 
Rick smiled to himself, changing into his PJs before sitting on your side of the bed. The dip roused you from your slumber just a little.
"Rick?" You murmured, fluttering your lashes tiredly.
"Forgot to get some water," He caressed your cheek before bending down to kiss it, "I'll be back." 
You mustered a closed-eye smile and before you knew it, you drifted off once again, lulled by the way he patted your back.
Once the coast was clear, he moved off the bed, silently slipping out and closing the door before heading over to the twins' room. He knocked on the door, just enough for them to hear before doing the same with Irene's door and headed downstairs.
Rick sat down at the dining table with a glass of cold water, arms crossed and lost in his own thoughts before hearing light footsteps approaching.
Richie, Ethan and Irene carefully pulled their chairs back before taking a seat, and just like that, the discussion began.
But it didn't seem like they were getting anywhere and at some point, they just started shit-talking.
"Man, I wish coach would just kick Blake out." Ethan groaned, his head falling back. 
"Tell me about it. He's shit at quarterback." Richie clicked his tongue.
"Boys." Rick warned them, partially because his youngest was listening.
"Sorry." They apologized but Irene didn't seem to mind.
"How about…" She chimed in, tapping her finger on her chin, "We scare them?" 
"Like…?" Richie cocked his head, hoping she'd say more than just that.
"I don't know, I just thought it'd be cool since it's Halloween and stuff. And, well, maybe we could use our powers, but I know mama and daddy wouldn't want that." She shrugged, pouting because she hadn't thought it far enough.
"It would be a miracle to scare them without using our powers in the first place," Richie sighed, looking over to his father, "What do you think, dad?" 
No reply.
"Dad?" Ethan followed suit as the three of them raised their brows.
“How far are you in your shadow puppet practice?” Rick asked out of the blue, staring ahead as though imagining whatever idea he had played out. 
“Uh, pretty far, I think? Ma taught us how to merge our shadows into one if we wanted to make a bigger animal.” Richie answered, earning affirmative nods from his siblings. 
“How big?” 
“Like, this big!” Irene opened her arms wide to let him know just how big of a monster they would be able to make if they wanted to. They haven’t, there was no reason to, but the more their father asked, the more it piqued their interest.
Rick thought it through for a moment. It has been a while since he has seen you make that one particular lifeform, but it was worth a shot. If it were able to render Waller speechless, then it’ll definitely make the Bedfords piss their pants. 
No actual attacks, and definitely no killings. But he’ll make sure they shudder at the mere thought of Halloween. Put the fear of God in them. They had it coming, too, stomping on other neighbours’ happiness for years just for the fun of it. 
He just had to play it safe. 
He slowly broke into a sinister smile.
“You three ever heard of a hellhound?”
˚ · . f i n . · ˚
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» a/n: ahh hubby rick <3 ;; gorgeous rose divider by @firefly-graphics ♡
396 notes ¡ View notes
reveluving ¡ 6 months
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if the skirt fits ; andy barber x reader
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summary: Andy finds a little secret of yours.
warnings: heavily implied s~mut; costume kink (minors DNI!), familial fluff & mild humour!
a/n: you don't know how happy I am for finally sharing this piece with y'all, considering how it has been collecting dust in my drafts since LAST YEAR, but here it is; one of my earliest ideas for the series! don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ
» wanna know what I have in store this fall? come & check out my m.list for 'reve's quirky reverie 🕷️'!
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“It fits you perfectly,” He purred, almost deep in thought—probably in his own fantasy, “So perfectly.” ;
"You could dress up as Jason?" You suggested what might’ve been the seventh costume idea since the drive home from dinner at the Thai restaurant nearby. 
"Done that." Jacob replied as he leaned forward from his seat to talk to you and his father.
"Spiderman?" 
"I feel like everyone's dressing up as Spiderman this year." 
"But not everyone's going to dress up as the same one." You had a point, considering how you and his dad were the first victims of his Spiderverse fixation since the second movie was released, so you knew what you were talking about.
"I guess,” Jacob thought for a moment before falling back in his seat, taking your idea into consideration, “I guess I just want something… different." 
"If you want different, then we could get you one of those inflatable dinosaur costumes on the internet." Andy held a playful look even as his eyes remained on the road.
"Very funny, dad." His son grumbled, despite fighting back his own smile.
"Aw, cheer up, Jake. You've got time." You reassured him. 
“Yeah… And I’m not too worried. The store next to Aunt Sarah’s bakery got some cool stuff when I bought last year’s costume,” Jacob mused before asking you, "What about you, mom? Have you thought of a costume yet?" 
Ah, mom. Even after all this time, you and Andy will never get tired of him calling you that.
"Mmm, not yet. But when I do, I'll make sure you're the first to know." You and Jacob shared a smile in the rear-view mirror, only to be interrupted by Andy clearing his throat.
"Uh, you're gonna tell him first and not me?" He cocked his head, feigning disbelief.
"Of course. You lost that privilege when you suggested Jake the dinosaur costume." You and Jacob laughed as Andy dramatically groaned, telling you ‘I didn’t mean it’ in an angsty teenager tone.
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"I am not dressing up Ken." Andy answered, removing his watch and leaving it on the vanity table.
"Oh, c'mon, Cowboy Barber has a nice ring to it." You said with a lilt. 
"And where exactly am I going to find a Western shirt in my size?" He quirked an eyebrow at you.
"We could always ask the Flags. Her husband might have one hidden somewhere."
"Just because we've seen him with a cowboy hat last Halloween?" He remembered seeing him wearing one during the community party at the park.
"You'd never know. Barbie and Ken are safer than your recommendation." You opened the closet without taking your accusatory eyes off him.
"What's wrong with a devil and an angel?" 
"Andy." Surely he could tell how ridiculous he sounded. 
"It's… easy…? And you'd look really good in it." He tried to persuade you, standing next to you.
"At a party full of kids?" You weren't sure how the parents that were a little more… conservative would feel about their kids' teacher dressing up like that.
"I didn't say it was for Wilson's party. It's for our afterparty," He wiggled his brows, "Just you and me while Jake stays over at the Wilson's." 
You snorted. How cheesy of him.
"Wilson's party first, then whatever you want after," You turned back to the hanging clothes, "And besides, you should be the devil, not me." 
That wasn't a no.
"You know what," He pursed his lips, already considering your idea—especially with the black suit he knew you'd melt over, plus a red tie before dodging the swat of your hand with a laugh. Just then, he noticed you'd been searching for something for a while, unbuttoning his cuffs and folding his sleeves before asking, “Need some help?”
“I can’t find my panties. The baby blue ones.” You frowned.
“The one with the lace?” He asked, prompting you to nod, “I mean, as much as I love seeing you in those, you know I don’t mind you without any in the first place.”
“Nice try, Barber," You narrowed your eyes at him, gesturing to the drawers in front of him before you rummaged through the pile of folded clothes on the bottom rack, “Help me search the drawers, please.”
He did as he was told, looking through the first stack before moving on to the next.
There was little progress in your searches but your curiosity was only piqued when out of the corner of your eye, Andy was looking closely at something.
“Did you find it?”
He took a quick breath before answering, “No, but I did find something better.” 
You furrowed your brows, standing up to ask what he meant by that until you caught sight of the familiar skirt he held.
Plaid, grey and extremely short.
Uh oh.
You clasped your hands together in front of your tummy as you stared at the microskirt with wide eyes. You were even failing to notice him slowly breaking into a smirk. He didn’t stop there, reaching into the drawer he was looking into with his other hand to take out the matching tie. Your lips parted, darting your eyes between the article of clothing and the smug look on his face.
“I can explain,” You finally spoke up, your voice softer than you hoped for.
“Please, do,” He held the ends of the untied tie with both hands, “Because I’m pretty sure these are too small to be mine.”
Oh, he was going to have some fun with this.
“Well, it’s, y’know,” You moved your hands around, only to silently plea for him to understand without having you say it, “Andy, c’mon. You know what it is.”
It wasn’t enough for him, though, raising his brows and encouraging you to continue. 
He was clearly enjoying this. A whole lot. 
Unbelievable.
“It’s my old costume.”
He hummed, appraising the garment as he immediately imagined what you would look like in it, “So my pretty girl has a dirty secret of her own. Did you break any necks when you pranced around the neighbourhood in this?” 
“In my defence, I only wore that once, when I was in college, so,” You corrected him, recalling the party you attended in your final year. 
“So, you broke college boys’ necks.” 
“I didn’t say that,” You shook your head in amusement, “I just didn’t have the heart to give it away. It was just one of those rare times where I truly enjoyed living in the city.” 
Though the city wasn’t far from Reve Road, and hell, you’ve even thought about moving back once or twice in your earlier days, truthfully, you haven’t been there in ages, and thank goodness, too. What would life be like if you hadn’t stayed, made a name in the peaceful neighbourhood and met the Barbers?
"Do you miss it?" 
"Sometimes," You mustered a small smile, though it didn't quite reach your eyes, "But I had my fun. Grew up to be a city girl, earned my degree and let out my ‘wilder’ side a couple of times. But I love it here more, and if I want to keep my job, the last thing my students and my son need to see when they go trick-or-treating is their Literature teacher in this." 
You shared a hearty laugh. Your wonders about who or what you could’ve been if you stayed in the city were nothing more than a mere curiosity, and even then, it hardly mattered to you now.
“Wouldn’t hurt to relive the old days here in our room.” Oh?
"You can't be serious," You chuckled nervously, "It might not even fit." 
You were lying—you barely looked any different from your college years. You just weren’t sure if you were ready to see his reaction over such scandalous attire.
"All the more reason to try it," He replied confidently, closing the gap between the two of you. His voice deepened as he whispered, "C’mon. You can be a good girl for me, can’t you?" 
Like the gentleman he was, he used your weakness against you.
You knew you were done for when you gulped under his intense stare, cocking his head in the bathroom’s direction. 
You snatched the garments out of his grasp, the ‘deathly’ glare on your face contrasted with his conceited one as you obtained the shirt that came with it out of the same drawer. He continued to hold your gaze even as you closed the door.
Once you were alone, you couldn’t help but let out a silent scream.
You were too embarrassed to even face the mirror as you got dressed, not until you slid on the last piece—the skirt before turning around to look at yourself. You could barely acknowledge the coincidence of covering your face with your hands like a bumbling schoolgirl.
Because that was exactly what you looked like.
You remembered washing the set a couple of times after your first and only wear, and even then, you didn’t think the skirt could shrink that little. Your ass was hanging out of the hem, offering an ample peek at the black bikini brief you had taken with you. 
You came out of the bathroom, ignoring the warmth spreading through your body as you were met with Andy sitting at his side of the bed, shamelessly displaying the prominent tent bulging in his pants.
He hummed in approval before beckoning you to his lap, "Come here." 
You kept your gaze on the ground as you walked over to him, standing in between his legs.
"Come here." He repeated, this time, forcing you to maintain eye contact as he tapped his knee.
You let out the softest whimper, your arms encircling his neck before straddling one of his thick thighs. He rested his hands on your hips, only to run them up and down your body, watching your face already contorting between bashfulness and desire.
“It fits you perfectly,” He purred, almost deep in thought—probably in his own fantasy, “So perfectly.” 
He pulled you closer, bouncing his knee to rub against your clothed sex. Electricity coursed through your body over the not-so-innocent move, your breathing growing heavier by the second as he teased you further.
“But you haven’t answered my question yet. Did they or did they not stare at you when you wore this?”
He rendered you speechless. You were beginning to think your heart might burst out of your chest at any point. 
“I’m sure they did,” A part of him wanted to be annoyed but miffed was a better way to put it. Not at you, though, he could never. You were just trying to have fun and make the most out of what life had to offer. But if he was there to see you in this the first time you had it, likely showing your wilder side, oh, he couldn’t lie and say you wouldn’t catch his eye either. 
“But I guess that doesn’t matter anymore,” His hands slid past the hem, lifting it for him to drink in the sight of your curves, “It’s just you and me now.”
You dropped your head on his shoulder, hoping to stifle the moan that threatened to slip past your lips.
“Just imagine me bending you over the bed so I can get a peak of what’s mine underneath,” He sighed dreamily, smiling when your ass jiggled as he grabbed at and squeezed them, “Or should I throw you on the bed and have you on your knees?”
You didn’t answer, too focused on the way he groped your body until you jumped at the resounding crack and the sting that came with it on your left cheek.
"Does it come with thigh highs?" He asked ever so casually as if he wasn’t straining to have you just as much as you were him.
"I-It did, but… I kinda lost it." 
"That's fine. I can always get you a new one," He nosed your jaw, "In fact, I'll buy you more than just a pair. Maybe match some with your panties." 
You mewled, raising your head and granting him access to your neck. 
“You'd do everything your favourite professor tells you to do, wouldn’t you?” 
Fuck.
“Andy, I–” You nearly called him Professor Barber when the sounds of knocking on your door caused you and your husband to freeze up.
"Mom, dad,” It was Jacob, “I think Beemo's been collecting… socks under the couch?" 
Like a fish out of water, your mind was too blank to respond or even acknowledge the question. Thankfully, Andy was able to do it for you, “We’ll be right there!”
The two of you waited until his footsteps receded before you were able to let out a sigh of relief. Andy, on the other hand, had the audacity to chuckle at you. There was no reason for you to worry about scarring Jacob since Andy had already locked the door.
“Very funny.” You murmured sarcastically, moving off him and loosening the tie, hoping to ignore the ache in between your legs for the time being.
“Hilarious,” He cockily added, standing up with an almost pained groan. He stood behind you before wrapping his arms around your waist, “But this isn’t over.”
You stopped.
“I meant what I said about buying you thigh highs with it. Or better yet, some fishnets because my wife’s not so innocent after all.”
Despite getting cockblocked, he was immensely satisfied to see you shiver.
‘Beemo, are you collecting underwear too?’ You heard Jacob ask the cat incredulously, only for a ‘wait!’, followed by his footsteps going down the stairs, probably chasing the feline with whoever’s briefs or undies he had in his mouth. You could only hope it wasn’t yours.
“And, that’s our cue,” His shoulders slumped, only to growl in your ear, “Wear this for me tomorrow after dinner.” 
He then released you with a big smooch on your cheek, exiting the room to find his son, but not before winking at you.
Leaving you to wonder on your own if he’d throw you on the bed or have you on his lap tomorrow.
˚ · . f i n . · ˚
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Âť a/n: now is a good time to say; no, I have yet to come back to the series, but I was too stoked about this event and thought 'hey, this should be the best time!'
» consider it as a mini compensation! but I do want to thank you for still sticking around, just know 'future mrs barber' is nowhere near discontinuing! ;; gorgeous rose divider by @firefly-graphics ♡
254 notes ¡ View notes
reveluving ¡ 6 months
Text
top notes ; peter hale x reader x deucalion
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summary: danger has never smelled so... enticing.
warnings: implied s~mut; blood kink (minors DNI!), failed home invasion + minor character death & fluff!
a/n: we're back with another vampire wifey because it was only right to include them in this little event! hope you enjoy it & don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ
» wanna know what I have in store this fall? come & check out my m.list for 'reve's quirky reverie 🕷️'!
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'It was luring them to you.' ;
Something was amiss. 
Peter knew Deuc felt the same when they turned to each other at the same time, brows furrowing and muscles tensing. Whatever it was, it had them dropping the supplies they had been arguing over before rushing out of the grocery store with inhumane speed.
Nobody really visited this side of the block past nine. However, the pair couldn’t care less about bumping into a civilian and potentially giving them a heart attack, especially with looks that could kill a man as they sped up back to the cabin, where you were home alone.
But just as the momentum picked up, they stopped dead in their tracks.
The scent—your scent grew stronger, but it wasn’t your blood. It was the same one you’ve always had, but more addictive, invigorating, even. Attracting their senses like the top notes of a perfume and awakening the much feral side of them, the kind that was only shown between the sheets. It was luring them to you. It only spurred them to run faster than they did before. 
It was almost like a race at this point, passing through the forest and breaking through tough branches in their paths like a bunch of twigs. Not long after, the cabin was in sight.
Deuc was the one who slammed the door open, his chest heaving more so because it wasn’t locked rather than the fact that he and Peter had run all the way home in mere minutes. Both the upper and lower levels were dark, other than the moonlight passing through the windows. But it hardly mattered when Deuc’s eyes landed on the movements in the middle of the living room.
Peter snarled, wondering why Deuc froze up by the front door before shoving him to get to you. 
“Out of my way.” Only for Peter to stop moving, too.
You were covered in blood, dripping all the way to the necklace you wore. Your nightgown was no better, the red had already made its way under the silk, and the view of the blood trailing down the valley of your breasts only roused the two. 
Your scent, plus the very sight of you nearly had them losing control. Their breaths had grown heavier, gazing upon you with half-lidded eyes and an aching need to have you right then and there. 
But you didn’t need that. Not now,
“Angel?” Peter called out to you softly, hoping to calm you down the way one would to a scared and wounded animal. His and Deuc’s hearts broke a little at your fearful whimper, “Hey, it’s okay. It’s just us.”
Deuc nodded along, holding his hands up the way Peter was to let you know there was nothing to fear, and even then, you could only look down, clenching on the hem of your gown.
They approached you ever so slowly, catching a glimpse of the lifeless body and the sizable puddle of blood that trailed from behind you. A pitiful-looking man, dressed in all black with an expression that was of pure horror. 
They could breathe easily, at least for a moment. 
“Are you hurt anywhere?” Deuc asked, nodding as you sluggishly shook your head, “Good, good.”
You awaited their reaction; incredulity, repulsion, hostility, anything that would have your stomach dropped for acting so careless and letting your emotions take over you, even for a brief moment. But none came, other than the lust in their eyes, the ones that you missed as you stared at the ground.
You were expecting the absolute worst that the feeling of Peter wrapping his arms around you from behind caused you to jump, “Peter?” You sounded in disbelief, as though you had snapped out of your adrenaline high. Deuc took the spot right beside him, holding your other hand, “Deuc.”
“It’s alright,” He kissed the back of your hand, uncaring of the blood, “Can we turn the lights on, angel? Just in case you’re hurt.”
You couldn’t find it in you to decline the offer, even when you wordlessly told them you were fine just seconds ago. You nodded again, leaning into Peter as he switched the table lamp on just next to him.
For one man, the splatters made it look like a massacre. You were nearly drenched but the other guy was worse and served him right, too. 
"Tell us what happened." Peter sought nicely, carefully wiping off a bit of the smear on the side of your lips.
You let out a shaky breath.
"I came down from the bedroom," You covered your eyes, not even thinking twice about the blood that you smeared on your face, and neither did Peter as he consoled you by rubbing his hand up and down your side, "I-I don't know how I didn't hear him." 
You did know, and you hated yourself for it. You dropped your guard, growing too comfortable with the sanctuary you've built ever since you met the men holding you. 
"I panicked. H-He... He didn't smell either of you." Your throat tightened. You remembered how your stomach dropped upon realizing that it wasn't them or the pack. How you slammed him against the wooden floor before removing his mask. The knife he had in his hand slid far from his reach, though he made a futile attempt to get it.
The way your evil grin made his body run cold before you sneered in his ear, "You've gone far enough now." 
You ignored his pleas and beg, only driving you forward to end his ways as you pierced your fangs into his neck. You made sure to make it as painful as possible as he thrashed and cried out like a man slaughtered in your steel grip. His movements only made it worse for him as the blood splattered out of his body uncontrollably, dousing you both in red. 
But just as the fun started, you were brought back to reality. Never in your life have you ever scooted back so abruptly, moving away as if your skin was burnt badly.
You even tried to rub the blood off you, even if you knew you were just making a fool out of yourself.
“M’sorry.” You weren’t sorry for killing the man, he deserved it. You were sorry for worrying them. This wasn't your first rodeo, but you haven't done it since moving back in Beacon Hills. Plus, no one was there for you when it happened. You had to wallow in despair, pick yourself up and act like it didn't happen.
Rinse and repeat.
"No, you have nothing to be sorry for. He should've known better than to think no one was living in a well-kept cabin." Deuc clicked his tongue, snarling at the dead body before leaning in for a peck on your forehead.
Peter hummed in agreement, easing your train of thoughts with kisses on your sensitive neck.
It made you wonder; did you act the way you did because you were scared? Or because you have restrained your dark side long enough before it snapped? Or had you done so because the 'old' days of Peter and Deuc's ways were starting to rub off on you, even for the greater good?
Then again, you were doing yourself a favour. Hell, you were doing everyone a favour. Had the law cuffed him up instead, who knows what tricks he would've had behind closed doors to be free? Then, he'd just terrorize the neighbourhood again, or worse, amp up his acts as revenge. 
The more you thought it through, your rational side dispelling your doubts and concerns, the less scarier it became.
"Feeling any better?" Peter murmured against your skin, prompting you to respond with an 'mhm'. You finally looked up at Deuc, who gave you a warm smile. You mustered up a smaller one, reaching over to cradle his face with both hands, only to pull away just as fast as you somehow forgotten about the blood.
"Sorry," You mumbled, but he wasn't having it, taking your hand in his and placing it back on his cheek. Your smile grew a little more, looking over your shoulder and being surprised by Peter surging forward to press his lips to yours.
A giggle bubbled in your throat when Deuc closed the gap between the two of you, nipping on your shoulder, the side that Peter hadn’t touched yet.
This moment alone had only reminded them of how incredibly exquisite of a being you were. You were delicate just as you were deadly. Not that they had forgotten about it, not at all, but this—this was a sight to behold. Though they’ve seen you in action countless times, you have never let your anger fully take control of you, not even in the most dire situation. 
You were too special not to appreciate, the crème de la crème, too good for this godforsaken world, even for them.
But oh, they were too greedy to let you go.
But Peter also couldn’t help himself when he opened his mouth.
"As sweet as this is, I have a confession," Oh, boy. Deuc had a feeling where this was going, "Has anyone ever told you how hot you look covered in blood?" 
Deuc sighed, shaking his head in exasperation. But he couldn’t blame him.
“What? You going to sit there and deny it?” Peter scoffed at Deuc before nuzzling his nose against yours, “I know you caught her scent when were in the forest.”
Deuc’s face hardened, causing you to blink quizzically.
“My scent?”
“It was…” Intoxicating. Enticing. A taste worth dying for. “Pure perfection.”
Your eyes grew wide. You were unaware of such a fact, but then again, they were the same dangerous duo who found you special the first time you met them. The ones who saw you as remarkable when egotistical pups or any trespassers are panic-stricken by your presence.
“I… Really?” You would’ve looked so innocent if not for the bloodbath, and that only turned them on even more. There was a chance you wouldn’t be up for it, but there was no harm in asking.
“Really. I almost lost control when we came here,” Peter swiped the pad of his thumb across your lips. He cocked his head in Deuc’s direction, “Him, too.”
You turned to the latter, silently gasping at he stared down at you both lovingly and sensually. Though, you couldn’t lie and say this wasn’t turning you on either.
And the second they let out a dangerous groan, the same time you began rubbing your thighs together no matter how subtle you were trying to be, you knew you couldn’t hide it and you didn’t want to.
“What do you say?” Peter’s warm breath tickled your neck.
“In this?” You managed to gesture at the grotesque display you were covered in, or at least it was in your eyes.
“Especially in this.” He replied without missing a beat, easily lifting you so your legs straddled his lap, wide enough for you to squeal as Deuc moved closer to you.
“Your call, angel.” Deuc caressed the apple of your cheek, “You say the word and we’ll take good care of you.”
You wanted nothing more than to be doted and fucked by your beloveds.
“Yes.”
˚ · . f i n . · ˚
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» a/n: we love our protective husbands, don't we! ;) ;; gorgeous divider by @firefly-graphics ♡
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reveluving ¡ 7 months
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masterlist ; reve's quirky reverie (fall '23 special!)
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about :
— come & venture into the darker, sinister or more erotic side of the blog with yours truly for this year's month of the spooky! 🕷
— randomly uploaded between oct & nov!
pick your poison :
the bump in the night ; rick flag x f!reader (ft. flag family)
a/n: tooth-rotting fluff, reverse comfort & humour [main]
top notes ; peter hale x f!reader x deucalion
a/n: blood kink (implied smut; minors DNI!), strong language & minor character death [main]
if the skirt fits ; andy barber x f!reader
a/n: costume kink (mild smut; minors DNI!), fluff & mild humour [main]
can't take my eyes off you ; clyde logan x f!reader
a/n: smut/implied smut(?), tooth-rotting fluff & humour
eight o'clock ; batfamily x batmom!reader
a/n: major character death, reverse comfort w/ a bittersweet ending [main]
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all! are based on fics I have made in the past (except for clyde logan!), which can be found by clicking the [main]. canon or not to my series, that's up to you! and as usual, this masterlist is for 18+ only.
disclaimer! as someone who has never experienced fall nor celebrate Halloween, I heavily rely on research in my writing (i.e. shows/movies, books). still, I hope you can find enjoyment in my work!
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˚ · . curious about past fics or any other characters I write for? come & check out my full m.list!
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