#the fact that i'm six months behind on this too at least | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sanguineterrain · 21 days

Note

Hi Sanne! I'm not sure if requests are open, but if you're up to it I'd like to request red hood x reporter! Maybe reporter reader is getting too close to a case and is starting to become a target and hood takes her protection into his own hands? ((Including lots of midnight rendezvous and rooftop bump ins))

i love this prompt sm! i've been thinking about a reporter reader ever since i read task force z :) thanks for requesting!

jason todd x gn!reporter!reader. tw: reader is attacked (but they're okay), guns, violence, fighting, jason being both a force to be reckoned with and a big softie. 2.5k words

****

"I don't need protection."

The Red Hood crosses his arms. You cross yours right back.

"Yes, you do," he says.

"No, I don't. I've lived in Gotham my whole life. I can take care of myself."

"Living around and being in the thick of violence are very different. You're already chasing this story; they will come after you."

And what a story it is. The story of the decade, at the very least. A task force of formerly-dead Arkham patients wielded against Gotham by a mysterious benefactor.

It's terrifying. It's dangerous. It's sure to win you your first Pulitzer.

And it all means absolutely nothing if the Red Hood keeps wrapping you in red tape.

Your jaw ticks. "This is my story, Hood. You can't turn it in, so I will. And I won't be scared off by some slimeball."

"Oh, please. You wouldn't even have known about this story if it wasn't for me, smarty."

Smarty. His favorite moniker for you because, according to him, you think you know everything.

Working with the Red Hood has been an unfortunate side effect of chasing your prize-winning story. Not only is he wanted in twenty-six countries (you Googled it) and is a ruthless crime lord (supposedly formerly, but you're doubtful), but worst of all, he's got an attitude to match yours.

He's also built like a tank, which is why you can't just. Outrun him.

"I can't just not publish the story," you say.

"I don't want to stop you from publishing the story. Hence the protection."

"I can't afford a bodyguard."

"Well, it's a good thing I already paid my rent this month."

You scoff. "The Gotham Gazette has a strict 'no armed and dangerous' policy. I'm afraid we all have to leave our gun-toting vigilantes at home."

You open the driver's door of your car, ready to end the conversation here and now. Hood calmly closes the door with his hip and leans.

You glare. "Get off of my car."

"Fact." He holds up a finger. "These kinds of people always strike before the story comes out. They know you're scared and stressed, and they wanna do it before the story gets out. Otherwise, it's obvious who killed who."

"And where did you read this fact? Crime Lord's Digest? We don't even know if they know I'm the reporter who broke into the lab."

"Listen, smarty, I've been in this game a lot longer than you. I know how they operate," he says, finally getting off of your car, only to lean on the hood. Jerk. "It's only a matter of time before whoever's behind this snuffs you out."

"I am not letting a wanted criminal nest in my apartment!"

"That's why I'd be there."

"I was talking about you, Hood."

"Funny."

"I'm not joking. Look, I appreciate your... help." You try not to show your exasperation. "But there's no way I'm inviting you over to my apartment. That'll set off more alarms. If anything happens, I'll call you. Until then, stay away. Deal?"

Hood looks you over.

"Hm. You're awfully comfortable with giving me orders, smarty."

Your adrenaline spikes for a second. But it quickly calms. You've worked with Hood for a month now. Sure, you were petrified the first week, but it quickly dissipated. You've fallen into an odd camaraderie with him.

It's actually kind of nice, having him on your side. No one at the Gazette gives you the time of day. You've become used to having a partner. Not that you'd ever tell him that.

"You take orders so well, I can't help but dole them out," you say, only a little smirky.

"Watch it," Hood rumbles, only half-serious. Probably.

You beam and wrench open your car door, sliding into the seat.

"See?" you say, turning the ignition. "No snipers waiting to take me out. I'll be fine."

He shakes his head and slides off the hood. "Ten bucks says they'll try by the end of the week."

You close your door. "You're on."

****

As it turns out, Hood doesn't need the end of the week to earn his tenner. Trouble breaks down your door the very same night.

You're on your couch with some well-earned Lebanese takeout when your door is ripped off of your hinges. You shoot up from the couch, chest immediately tight.

Your assailant is masked and isn't that typical, giving masked men everywhere a bad name.

You run to the kitchen, hoping you can grab a knife. But you're grabbed before you can get there. You slip on the carpet and trip further into your assailant's arms.

"Keep still so I won't make a mess," is all he says.

You start screaming. He covers your mouth and you bite his hand. That earns you a thump on your cheek, so hard your vision blurs.

Bang!

You freeze, expecting the warm drip of blood and the excruciating pain to accompany it. Instead, your assailant falls to the floor, clutching his ribs. You stumble backwards and see Hood at your door, gun still aimed. He stalks over and kicks the assailant in the chest as he does. The assailant groans.

"You okay?"

You're still staring at the man who very nearly killed you a minute ago. Blood roars in your ears. You think you might be close to fainting.

"Hey." Big, gloved hands hold your face. You flinch and hold the owner's wrists. Hood comes into view once more.

"Are you okay?" he asks firmly. "Look at me, look at me, sweet. Breathe. 'S okay. Does anything hurt? Did he—"

Hood cuts himself off as he touches your cheek, where you were hit. He lightly runs a thumb over what is probably a budding bruise.

Hood lets you go and whirls onto your attacker. He hauls him up and presses a gun to his stomach.

"Go ahead, shoot me!" the attacker shouts.

"If I shoot you, it won't be out of mercy. You won't get a quick death. You don't deserve it," Hood snarls, and you suddenly remember all of your good reasons for fearing the Red Hood.

"I ain't telling ya shit!"

"I don't expect you to," Hood says, and fires again.

The man crumples to the ground, but he's clearly still breathing. Still alive. Hood drags him to the door by his collar.

"You go back to your boss. And you tell 'em that they're fucking with the Red Hood now. And, in case I'm not being perfectly fucking clear through all that blood loss—" Hood grabs the man by his hair and wrenches his head back. "If you come for my reporter again, you'll wish I was kind enough to put a bullet in your head."

Hood hauls your attacker outside. You hear a car start a minute later, and it tears down the street.

You look at your guardian angel, spattered in blood.

Not nearly as much blood as I expected, you think manically.

Your body aches and shakes with adrenaline. You can't even get enough control to move to the couch.

"How–how did you get here so fast?" you ask, staring at your now cracked coffee table.

"I've been monitoring your apartment since you got home. One of the traffic cameras picked up a stolen vehicle turning onto your block, so I came here."

You look at Hood. He seems very collected, all things considered.

"You—how did you find my apartment? Have you been stalking me?"

"Please. Lend me a little credit, smarty. I don't need to stalk you to find where you live," he says, holstering his gun.

"Are you insane?!" you burst. "That is such a gross invasion of privacy! What the hell is wrong with you?"

Hood looks at you.

"What's wrong with me is I just saved your life," he says evenly. "And on that note, you owe me ten bucks. Maybe even fifteen, considering it took less than a day for them to do exactly what I said they would."

Your lip wobbles. You don't know what triggers it; maybe it's your scratched up door or torn sofa or the fact that the Red Hood is in your living room right now with blood on his suit.

The tears form quickly. You can't stop them.

You cover your face but a sob claws out of your throat. Soon, you fall into big, heaving cries.

"Whoa, hey." The floorboards creak under Hood's unsure footsteps. "Hey, I didn't mean that. Shit. I was just kidding about the bet part. Aw, don't cry, smarty."

A hand lightly touches your shoulder. You lean in, but don't dare to initiate more contact. So Hood eases you into a side hug, awkwardly patting your other arm. He's extremely warm and solid with muscle, but his chest is soft enough to rest your head on. He unclips his holster so it doesn't dig into your body.

"I was just kidding," Hood says quietly in your ear. He rubs your arm. "'M sorry. Didn't mean to make y'cry."

You sniff and shake your head. "No, it–it's not that, I'm just—God, I'm t-terrified, Hood. What the fuck am I supposed to do now? They're gonna kill me! I'm gonna die before I win my first Pulitzer!"

You try to suck in deep breath but it's not working. Hood leads your unsteady feet to the couch. You sit, fingers gripping his jacket. Hood carefully loosens your grip.

"They're not gonna kill ya, smarty. I won't let 'em. C'mon, let's have a seat. Where's your kitchen?"

You point, lashes still thick with tears. Hood leaves and returns shortly. A glass of water is held to your lips. You drink it, breathing stilted.

"'S okay. Take it easy. Breathe. That's right."

You swallow half of the water, and he sets the glass down on the coffee table. Hood hands you a wad of tissues.

"This is pathetic," you say, wiping your tears. "Can't believe I'm being nursed by the Red Hood."

"I think nursed is a strong word. But it's more than I usually do for my informants. Then again, they don't usually burst into tears."

"Don't make fun of me. I'm fragile."

"I wasn't making fun of you," Hood says, gentler than you've ever heard him. He puts the tissues aside and rests a hand on your shoulder. You turn into it, appreciative of the weight. "You handled this better than most people would. You didn't even pass out. Hell, I've passed out."

You're sure that Hood is leaving out important details behind that anecdote, like fighting off a hundred men or being swallowed by a whale beforehand. You're grateful nonetheless.

You turn to him, fresh tears in your eyes. "They're gonna kill me, Red."

He shakes his head. "No. Listen to me. Nobody is gonna do anything to you, okay? I'm not gonna let 'em hurt you, smarty pie."

"That's an impossible promise," you say. "One of these days, something will happen. You can't be everywhere at once. Especially not while I'm at home."

Hood tilts his head. "Well..."

"Well, what?"

He rubs his throat. An old injury, he'd once told you. The pain flares up sometimes.

"I could call in a favor. Get you into a safehouse."

"You would do that for me?" you ask. You probably shouldn't ask. Shouldn't look a generous vigilante in the mouth. But you can't help it.

"I can't very well publish the story myself, can I?"

You shrug. "I doubt that. You have your ways. Once you have the evidence, you don't need me."

"That's not true," Hood says fiercely. "I do need you."

Your eyes widen. Hood fumbles for a moment.

"That—I mean for the case. Obviously. I don't have any journalistic links besides you. And I wouldn't want the story to fall into the wrong hands."

"Oh." You have a strong urge to wrap your arms around him. Weird. "Well, um, thank you. I appreciate it."

"Don't thank me yet. It'll take me a few days to get the safehouse," he says.

You deflate. "Oh. So I have to stay here until then?"

Hood is quiet for a long time. So long, you briefly revisit your original theory that the Red Hood is actually an AI remotely controlled by a billionaire.

"Hood?"

You reach to touch him. He flinches, a tiny movement. You immediately draw back.

Nope. Still a man.

"Sorry," he says, hand slipping from your shoulder. "I was, uh, going over options. No, your place is toast until we find whoever's behind this. But, um, it would be possible for you to—if you want to, 'cause if you don't, y'know, I understand, but I—it would be doable for you to, uh, stay with me. Until I get the safehouse."

"Stay... in your apartment?"

"'S not far from here. And it's a hell of a lot better protected than your place. And, y'know, I'd be there most of the time, so like..." Hood clears his throat. "Uh, yeah. It'd be safe. I promise."

"I wouldn't want to impose," you say, nervously scratching your arm.

"Mm. If you're scared of staying with me, y'can just say so. I won't take it personal."

He does kind of sound like he's taking it personally.

"No, Hood, it's not that. I don't... I'm not afraid of you. That, uh, went away a while back," you say. "I just... I don't want to burden you. After all, it's your space."

He makes a sound that tells you he's rolling his eyes behind his helmet.

"Saving your life is important, smarty. Why you don't think so, I'll never know."

You make a soft, pleased sound. "Got a real bleeding heart there, Red."

He sighs. "Yeah. I'm working on it."

You grin. "Thank you for rescuing me."

"Part of the job. If you don't wanna stay with me, I could..." Hood hesitates. "With your permission... I could get the Bats involved. Ask one of them to house you."

"You mean Batman?"

Hood grunts. "Preferably anyone but him, but yeah, if it comes to that. He'll probably get involved anyway. Fuckin' busybody."

"The Bats would protect me? But they don't know me."

"Don't matter. If I asked them to, they would. If that's something you want."

You think. Is it something you want?

Sure, any reasonable person would prefer Nightwing or Batman to protect them.

"I don't want to stay with them," you say. "I'd rather stay with you."

He jerks like you've told him the sky is falling.

"You do?" he asks.

"Well, yeah. I know you, Red. And I know you'll keep me safe."

"At any cost," he says.

That simultaneously frightens and thrills you.

"Then I'd like to go home with you," you say. "If you'll have me."

"'Course, smarty. Anything to keep you safe. Go pack some stuff. I'll be out here. You're okay?"

"I'm okay." You stand and turn before he can see what he does to you.

Yes, it's an odd thing, being partners with the Red Hood.

You're starting to fear that you can't have it any other way.

#jason todd x reader #Jason todd x you #Red Hood x reader #Red Hood x you #Red Hood fanfiction #Jason todd fanfiction #Jason todd imagine #Red Hood imagine #dc fanfiction #batman fanfiction #batman imagine #dc imagine #Jason todd x gn reader #inbox #blurb

493 notes · View notes

bradshawssugarbaby · 1 month

Text

Hurricane - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

summary: Bradley's regretted breaking off his relationship with you for months, but when he sees you walking into the country club after his round of golf, he knows he has to fix things.

a/n: I haven't written much angst before but I'm really trying to branch out a little bit. Inspired by Hurricane by Luke Combs, and also this weird recurring dream I keep having.

pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x reader

warnings/content: buckle up bc there's a lot? angst (happy ending), parental death, depression, hurt, cancer, goose's accident + carole's reaction, carole literally never getting over losing goose, bradley being a commitmentphobe, pregnancy (i think that's it?), also entirely unrealistic bc you know what? I can't keep roo sad for long.

word count: 3.6k

taglist: @avengersfan25, @nouis-bum, @floydsmuse, @mamachasesmayhem, @jessicab1991, @atarmychick007, @b-bradshaw, @djs8891

Then you rolled in with your hair in the wind Baby, without warning I was doin' alright but just your sight Had my heart stormin'

Bradley narrowed his eyes beneath his sunglasses, the glare of the hot mid-morning sun harsh on his chocolate brown eyes. He grabbed his nine-iron from his golf bag, taking a practice swing before teeing up for his next shot. Bob, Jake, Reuben and Javy stood to the side behind him, watching as he lined up to take his shot. He hadn’t golfed in years, in fact, he’d only ever golfed a handful of times in his life, all of them back when he lived in Virginia. His uncle had taught him when he was 15, a welcome distraction when his mom became sick, and he’d gone out a few times when he was in college after a roommate of his on the school’s golf team had invited him out. He held his breath as he heard the club make contact with the small, white orb, watching as it soared through the air, disappearing somewhere onto the course. Jake let out an impressive whistle as he looked on, placing his hands on his hips as he shook his head in disbelief.

“You’ve never golfed before, Bradshaw? You sure?” He drawled, raising one of his manicured (though he’d deny it if asked) blonde eyebrows suspiciously.

“I told you, a handful of times. Not never.”

“You did say less than five,” Bob shrugged as he cleaned his glasses before replacing them on his nose. “Less than five suggests you haven’t really hit a course.”

“Not to mention you said in years. That was the swing of a man who’s at least hit a driving range a few times,” Reuben pointed out to the course in the general direction of where Bradley’s ball had landed as Javy, Bob and Jake nodded in agreement.

“I wish Nat had tagged along, she wouldn’t ride my ass this hard,” Bradley huffed, shaking his head.

“Nat doesn’t golf. You know that. She acted disgusted that I even asked,” Jake shrugged.

“Maybe it was how you asked,” Bob suggested as he disguised his jab at Jake as a helpful criticism.

“Just take your turn, Robert,” Jake hissed, rolling his eyes dramatically as Bob smirked.

Bradley normally would have joined in with a quip of his own directed at Jake, but his heart just wasn’t in it. His heart wasn’t even in the game. The only reason why he’d agreed to go golfing with the guys for their usual monthly game was because you left him. He needed to get over you and move on - it’d been six months and with no deployments coming up, he had nothing to focus 100% of his attention onto. Reuben had noticed it first - Bradley was withdrawn on nights out, his usually chatterbox self now quiet, calm and keeping to himself, barely breaking eye contact with his beer bottle. Then came Natasha’s barrage of questions - he knew she meant well, but God, it was hard to listen to.

He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he knew why you left. And it was entirely his fault. You’d gotten upset because he’d stopped spending as much time with you, kept getting cold feet about committing to your relationship. He’d never tell you why he couldn’t commit - it was too hard for him to explain to anyone, really. In fact, he was fairly confident that Reuben was the only other person aware of it.

Bradley wanted to be the partner you needed - he really did. He wanted to be the doting, affectionate boyfriend who’d whisk you off somewhere beautiful, propose to you, start a family with 2.2 kids and a dog, cart the kids around to sports practices on weekends - the American dream. He knew you deserved that much. And yet, no matter how badly he wanted to give that to you - he couldn’t. He’d told you he didn’t want it - he didn’t want to get married, he didn’t want to have kids, he never wanted it. He watched you fall apart the minute the words left his mouth, and it killed him inside. He wanted to hold you close and tell you he was making a mistake, tell you it wasn’t true and he didn’t mean it, but he couldn’t.

He couldn’t, because he was terrified.

Growing up without his dad was one of the hardest things he could have experienced, he was sure of it. He was too young to truly remember how his mom reacted when she learned her husband had been killed in a training exercise, but he remembered her crying a lot, feeling paralyzed by loss and guilt, angry with the world for taking the man she loved away from her. He remembered as he grew up, she never remarried, never went on a date, never even as much as looked at another man. His dad was her everything, and losing him crushed her.

When she got sick, Bradley was a teenager - old enough to understand what it meant for her, what her odds of recovery were, and old enough to be realistic about the future. When they found out she wasn’t going to get better, he’d half expected her to react the way she did when his dad died, but instead, she seemed almost at peace with the idea. She’d spent 14 years of her life missing his dad, and she knew that, even though she was horrified by the thought of leaving Bradley on his own, she wouldn’t have to spend another minute missing her husband.

Bradley decided then that he’d never want to put someone through that. He’d never be able to hurt someone he loved like this - leave them widowed before they turned 30, alone with a toddler at home to raise on the opposite side of the country from their family and friends, with nothing but a military pension and an apology over his death.

It was at 16 years old that Bradley decided, if he wanted to become a pilot, he was going to have to spend life alone, and for the most part, he was ok with that.

That was, until he met you.

He tried to deny his feelings, pretending you were just a casual fling, some fun sex here and there between deployments and missions and nothing more. That was, until three months in, he accidentally told you he loved you. It wasn’t a lie, he did love you, but it caught him off guard when he said it - he didn’t mean to blow his cover and let his guard down like that. And when you said it back? He knew it was game over.

He tried his hardest to push his fears aside, he tried SO hard. He was getting older and beginning to realize he didn’t want to spend the rest of his life alone, especially as he neared the mandatory 20 years of service cutoff for aviators. He’d grown almost fond of the idea of settling down with you, seeing you with a ring on your finger, picturing you with a baby in you, his baby. He wanted it. He wanted all of it. But, the fears and anxiety he had reared its ugly head, and he couldn’t bring himself to get past it.

It was on their last mission, when he had to eject and landed in the middle of a snowy mountain, unsure if he’d make it back home to you. His mind raced with thoughts of how you’d react if he didn’t make it home - how you’d crumple to the floor when you saw the two uniformed officers on your doorstep, the blood-curdling scream you’d let out in pain when you heard them say it, tears staining your pretty little face as you were handed that folded American flag - he couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t stand the idea of putting you through everything his mom had gone through. Not when you were so young and had everything ahead of you. When you could find a man who wasn’t putting his life in danger nearly every damn day, risking himself and risking a chance he might not come home to you.

This golf trip was meant to take his mind off you. Reuben had mentioned it in passing to Jake and Bob, who exchanged worried looks with one another. Javy had overheard Nat’s line of questioning when he and Mickey returned to the table with a fresh round of beers, both of them offering Bradley silent looks of sympathy as they nodded in agreement to Nat’s advice. Bradley was struggling, in over his head with emotions and regret and sadness, but he knew he’d fucked it all up. And he knew that even if he tried, you wouldn’t want him back, and who could blame you?

Bob had suggested he reach out to you and apologize, and for a while, Bradley considered it. He strongly considered calling you, going to your house, begging for forgiveness and begging you to take him back, but after how you reacted when he broke things off with you, he wouldn’t even take him back. He’d been a dick in every sense of the word, and now, he had to try and move on, adjusting to life without you in it.

The next nine holes passed by with little conversation from Bradley and worried glances exchanged between his friends. He wasn’t in the mood for talking, he’d explain, shrugging the concern off before focusing back on the game. Bradley was thankful for his friends’ efforts, but it was beginning to feel like nothing would help him move on.

He slumped down into a chair at a table in the country club after their round of golf, sipping back the beer Jake bought him. He caught himself downing the liquid quicker than he should have, but at this point, being drunk would at least provide him with that much needed numbness he craved. He could hear Bob bickering with Jake over golf scores and who truly won, prompting an eye roll from Javy as he pulled the crumpled scoresheets from his pocket and placed them on the table. Reuben noticed the glazed over look in Bradley’s eye and clapped a sympathetic hand down on his shoulder.

Bradley was about to thank Reuben for being there for him when he saw your face. You were walking into the country club with a couple of your friends, laughing and smiling as you spoke.

God, he loved that smile.

He gulped back the rest of his drink before placing the glass back down on the table, the sound of Bradley slamming the glass down a little harder than he intended prompting Jake to spin his head around as he saw you.

“Oh..shit,” he murmured as Bob and Javy both turned to look discreetly towards you.

Bradley’s eyes widened as you walked past the bar, revealing a very unexpected new figure. He blinked his eyes a few times to ensure they weren’t playing tricks on him - positive that this had to be some kind of optical illusion or something. It was impossible. You couldn’t be.

“Pregnant.” Jake whispered as he leaned into the table, “She’s pregnant,”

“Did you know, Bradley?” Bob inquired as he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

“N-no.” Bradley choked out, feeling the walls closing in around him as the room started to spin.

Without hesitation, Bradley rose from his seat and made his way over to you, despite the protests from Bob and Reuben, the two voices of reason to Javy and Jake’s voices of impulse. Bradley approached you cautiously, clearing his throat for a moment to garner your attention. You spun your head around, your cheeks rosy and your skin glowing with that pregnancy glow everyone always talked about. Bradley had never really believed in that kind of stuff, but you were proving him wrong.

“Bradley?” you asked, your face paleing to a shade of ghostly white.

“Can…can we talk, please? I need to talk to you,” Bradley rambled with desperation written on his face.

You huffed a sigh, nodding your head slowly as you excused yourself from your friends, who were now whispering and exchanging uncomfortable glances with one another. Bradley followed closely behind you as you stepped out into the fresh air, finding a discreet corner of the parking lot to discuss everything from the last six months.

“I…Is it mine?” Bradley whispered, almost afraid to hear the answer as his eyes wandered to the bump that was evident under your sundress.

You sighed again, following Bradley’s gaze down to your abdomen, a protective hand resting on your bump as you nodded slowly, humming in confirmation.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He frowned, shaking his head quickly, “I-I, I would have helped you.”

“Bradley,” you said, narrowing your eyes and shaking your head quickly, “You told me you didn’t want this. You dumped me and told me you never wanted to settle down or have a family, you didn’t want to be with me anymore, and being in a long-term relationship wasn’t what you ever wanted. You told me you didn’t love me. So please, tell me why I should have told you?”

“Because,” he said softly, his heart aching as he heard your side of things, “I didn’t mean any of that. I was wrong.”

“Oh, you were wrong? Tell me, were you always wrong, or are you only wrong now that you’ve seen me six months later, heavily pregnant?”

Bradley was speechless. He gazed down at his feet, kicking at the pavement in his golf cleats. He sighed as he thought for a moment, taking a second of quiet reflection to compose his thoughts before speaking. He wanted to get this right. He couldn’t afford to fuck it up again.

“I was always wrong. I was wrong when I said it, and I knew I was wrong,” he shook his head vigorously before looking up to meet your gaze, “Did I ever tell you about my mom?”

“You told me she died when you were a teenager, and you didn’t really mention anything else about her. Or anyone in your family, for that matter.”

“Right,” he nodded his head slowly, taking a deep breath before beginning to explain. “My dad died when I was 2. He was an RIO, a Radar Intercept Officer. You know Maverick, right?”

“Mhmm,” you nodded slowly, a look of annoyance flashing across your face as you listened to Bradley, you were used to his excuses, and you were really hoping this wasn’t another one.

“So, Maverick was my dad’s pilot. Best friends. Did everything together. He was flying when my dad died, their plane lost control, had to eject, my dad hit the canopy. Died instantly.” Bradley paused, taking another deep breath as he felt himself getting choked up, “My mom, she, uh, she was really young. My dad was 25, my mom was 23. He was her high school sweetheart. She was devastated. I was too young to remember a lot, but I remember her hurting, and being sad all the time, unable to function some days because she just missed him so much,” he explained as tears began to roll down his cheeks.

“Bradley, I’m sorry,” you sighed, shaking your head as you sympathetically rubbed his bicep to comfort him.

“I just…when she died, she was…peaceful, I guess, because she knew she wouldn’t have to miss him anymore. She wouldn’t be lonely. She never remarried or dated after him, she couldn’t bring herself to. She’s buried with her wedding ring still on her finger. I couldn’t bring myself to take it off her,” he took another deep breath, exhaling sharply before looking up at you.

“I couldn’t do that to you,” he finally said, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over again, “I couldn’t leave you like my mom. Heartbroken and alone your whole life. She never moved on, and I didn’t want that for you if we got married. God, I would have given anything to marry you. I would have taken you to the courthouse and married you on the spot if you would have agreed to it. But, I couldn’t risk breaking your heart. Not like that.”

“Bradley, you’ve always come home in one piece,” you said softly, fingers still stroking his upper arm soothingly.

“But I almost didn’t. I had to eject and all I could think about was you getting that knock at the door and going through what she went through, and I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t do that to you, or…or to a baby.”

You shook your head, processing everything that Bradley had just said as he poured his heart out to you. He’d never opened up like this to you before, but you could tell each and every word was genuine. As much as you hated him for leaving you, you couldn’t deny that you still loved him with all of your heart.

You missed him.

You missed waking up to him after the two of you had fallen asleep watching a movie together. You missed the way he yelled at the tv when watching baseball, how passionate he got over football games, how he’d pick the olives out of his nachos like a toddler and put them on your plate. You missed how he couldn’t eat apples unless they were baked in a pie, how he’d scarf down an entire red velvet cake if you didn’t gently stop him, then regret it hours later. You missed the way his big brown eyes would stare at you, a look of pure adoration on his face like a lovesick puppy whenever you spoke to someone else, as if he was hanging on every single word that fell from your lips.

You burst into tears, throwing your arms tightly around Bradley as you shook your head. “God, you’re an idiot, you know that?” you murmured, laughing softly as you hugged him.

“I know, I’m the biggest idiot. I still would marry you if you let me. I wanted to have kids with you, I want to be around for this one,” he nodded, gesturing his hands at your bump.

“Really?”

“Cross my heart,” Bradley said with an expression of complete seriousness on his face, “I wanna know everything about them. Everything. I wanna know what you’re having, what name you’ve picked out, what your cravings are, how you’ve been feeling, when they move, what does it feel like? I want to know how far along you are, and how they’re doing, if they have my nose or your nose, or if they’re gonna be tall like I am, I want to know what helps you sleep at night when you’re pregnant, and what their favourite song is. I want all of it, honey.”

“Ok, ok, slow down, breathe, Bradley,” you chuckled, shaking your head. “Take a walk with me?”

As you and Bradley walked around the pedestrian pathway on the golf course, smiling as you spoke fondly about the baby, answering all of Bradley’s questions.

“Well, baby’s a girl, I don’t have a name in mind for her yet, I’ve been craving oranges and Sprite, anything sweet and citrusy. I’ve been ok, better now the morning sickness finally dissipated. It feels like bubbles or something when she kicks, it’s like a fluttering, almost? I’m 28 weeks along, so I have about three months left. She looked like she has your nose on the ultrasound, there’s a 50/50 chance on her height, I sleep pretty much sitting upright because I get bad heartburn otherwise, and I play her music all the time. She likes Elvis and The Beach Boys, just like her dad.”

Bradley’s smile spread wide across his face, a small laugh of disbelief escaping his mouth as he nodded along with your words.

“That’s great. A girl? Really? You’re gonna have a daughter running around,” he said softly, almost as if he was daydreaming about what the little girl would look like.

“We are going to have a daughter.”

“You’re gonna let me be there? After everything?”

“Bradley, as much as I hated you for what you did and how you ended things - I never truly hated you. I loved you, more than anything. I still do.”

He held you tightly, burying his face into your hair as he kissed the top of your head, murmuring softly against your hair.

“God, I love you so much, honey. I promise, I’m never going to do something stupid like that again.”

“I know you won’t,” you laughed, shaking your head as he looked down at you, “I know you’d never leave Carly and I again.”

Bradley froze in place for a moment as he stared at you, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke.

“What did you call her?”

“Carly. I thought, I don’t know, after you told me about your mom just now, I thought maybe you’d like to name the baby after her? Carole’s nice too, I just figured Carly gives her a name that’s her own too, they share the same root.”

“Carly,” he nodded slowly as he repeated it, “I love it.”

Bradley took your hand in his, his large fingers enveloping your hand as he held it tightly, as if he was terrified of letting go. He made that mistake once before, he wasn’t about to do it again.

433 notes · View notes

moonchildstyles · 3 months

Note

if I think I know what curious gazes is, I would love to see what rosemary/ex-hitman would look like in that lens! he's just so moody compared to her, it would be cool to see them how others do! thank you :D

wordcount: 2.2k+

—————

Scrolling on her phone, Denise jumped and almost dropped the device when she heard the bell above the door tinkle in greeting. She wanted to stare down the new patrons that crossed the threshold, maybe they would get the message that she was not in the mood today. It had been completely dead her entire shift and she would prefer it to stay that way instead of pretending to be pleasant for the sake of a meager tip.

Lifting her sharpened gaze, she thought better of her initial instinct as she slid her phone into the pocket of her jeans before approaching the pair waiting by the front door. The man stood tall with his head slightly ducked to his partner's height, turning an ear to her as she shared something quietly with him. He smiled in response, his gaze brightening as he turned to mutter something back.

Denise's jaw tightened. It took everything in her not to blurt out and ask if they were aware that love didn't exist, that everything they were going through right now was nothing more than a passing fantasy before one of them would go off and meet someone new—maybe even the other's best friend—and fuck them behind her back and—

Taking in a deep breath, Denise reminded herself that she came to work today to forget. At least this way she could be paid for her moping.

"Hi, how are you today?" she sounded once close enough, decidedly less perky than her usual customer service persona. The kitchen staff was going to be extra annoying today if they overheard her.

"Good, thank you! How are you?" the girl asked, her hand clasped tightly in her companion's. A bright smile covered her features, matching the bubbly inflection of her voice. She was just the kind of person that would have a flouncy bow in her hair, Denise thought bitterly.

"I'm doing okay, thank you. Just the two of you?" she quickly moved on, reaching for a couple of flimsy menus from the half-assed hosting station. (She lodged a complaint at least once a week over this podium, citing how unnecessary the whole thing was for a diner like this. Her manager never seemed to receive them though, if the fact it was still here meant anything).

"Yes, please," the girl chirped, her polite smile never waning.

"Perfect," Denise deadpanned, already growing tired of the fluffy energy radiating off the pair of them, "This way, then."

Denise didn't bother to check over her shoulder or make small talk as she led them to the booth in the farthest corner away from the bar top and kitchen window. Given the size of the restaurant, it wasn't very far, but at least this way she could strategically hide by the register and scroll on her phone or talk shit with the kitchen staff without prying eyes.

"This work for you guys?" she asked out of habit, stepping aside in presentation of the booth.

"This is perfect, thank you," the girl smiled, looking up to the man at her side as if to verify. He didn't do anything other than give a private smile to her, barely even glancing at Denise or the seating arrangement. Denise held back a huff.

Leo used to look at her like that too, but then he fucked her best friend for six months.

With that, the pair of them scooted into the vinyl seating across from one another, finally dropping their clasped hands. Placing the laminated menus in front of them, Denise rattled off the lunch specials from memory, barely registering her words as they fell from her tongue. A faux smile decorated her face as she asked for their preferred drinks.

"Um," the girl floundered, attempting to sweep over the menu in record time, "Just a lemonade, please?"

Denise nodded before turning to the man, ensuring she didn't narrow her eyes too much at him. She saw the way he looked at his girlfriend with adoration in his eyes before realizing it was his turn. The gentle curl to his lips melted away when he looked up at Denise, voice flat as he ordered, "Water."

A less than discreet scuffle from under the table sounded in the quiet diner.

"Please," the man tacked on at the end.

Better, Denise thought, a slight curl tugging at the corner of her lips.

"Alright, I'll be back with those drinks in a minute and take your order," Denise explained, slipping away not a moment too soon.

As she left them behind, she could hear the traces of a quiet conversation.

"Sorry," the man's deep voice mumbled, "I forgot."

"It's okay," the girl answered, ever-so-patient, "I know you're still getting used to it. You just have to talk to people like you talk to me, and you'll be okay."

A humph sounded. "But none of them are you."

Denise had to keep from rolling her eyes. She wanted so badly to believe that sincerity she swore was laced within his words, but today was not the day for believing in love and genuine relationships. Today was for being bitter while her ex cleaned his stuff out of her apartment.

Out of nothing but the need to wait on them as quickly as possible so she could go back to stewing, Denise quickly collected their drinks and returned to the booth in record time. After distributing out the glasses with a practiced smile, straightened to the full of her height and pulled out her pad.

"Ready to order?" she recited, lifting her eyes only minutely from the page.

The man piped up first, "Yes, please."

The girl smiled at him with a brightness to her gaze. Denise held back a scoff.

They prattled off their orders in quick succession, the woman with a pleasant smile and the man with over-polite manners. With every please and thank you, his girlfriend looked that much happier.

"Alright, I'll be back as soon as everything's ready," Denise smiled, itching to pass the order to the kitchen before hiding in her favorite spot.

Striding through the small diner, she passed off the ticket to the lounging kitchen staff before breezing by to her own hiding spot. Tucking herself by the register just out of sight of the single filled booth, Denise scrolled on her phone. Angling herself just so, she was able to peek at the table without being obviously spotted—her favorite place to stowaway without missing out on taking care of her tables.

Pulling up her photos as she had been before the couple's interruption, she attempted to delete as much evidence of the last year as she could before she was too annoyed to look at Leo's face anymore.

Unsurprisingly, it didn't take very long for the sight of his stupid, lying, cheating, smiling face pushed her to lock her phone to keep from calling his mom to tell her what he did. In search of a distraction, she peered over the screen, finding the only available entertainment being the couple she currently despised.

It was with narrowed eyes that she watched them interact. Their voices were too low to be heard over the quiet music and the distance between them, leaving only the sound of small mutters as they sat in their private bubble. With the position of the booth, Denise was only able to see the face of the man and the way he looked at the woman across from him, how he reacted to whatever it was she was doing.

Denise saw the way the grim set of his features loosened and melted when the woman laughed, how the tense line of his shoulders settled when she reached out and touched his hand across the table, and the way his body curled towards her as if the table was an obstacle for where he really wanted to be. Parts of her thawed as she watched, as much as she hated to admit it.

They were cute—even if the thought was stamped with bitterness.

Putting her phone away and tearing her eyes from the couple, Denise deigned herself to clean up. It was an easy enough, boring task that would keep her occupied, even if she would rather sit on the floor behind the bar and mope instead. With a spray bottle and a rag in hand, she worked her way through the aisles and wiped down tables and the vinyl seating. It was mindless and a little too easy to get distracted, but this was better than spying on some couple or going through her photos and remembering her own relationship.

Meandering through the tables, she eventually made it within earshot of the quiet conversation cuddled in the booth. Denise attempted to keep her ears to herself, not necessarily wanting to hear what she didn't have, but it was hard to tune them out with how minute her cleaning was.

"You really like your bow?" the man had asked, his voice a low grumble in song with the music, "Y'don't have to be nice if y'don't, peach."

"No, Harry, I love it. Seriously," the girl answered back, her voice light and convincing, "I didn't mean it as a bad thing that I have a lot in that color. Obviously, I like it if I buy it all the time."

When a pause sounded between them, Denise had to keep herself from peering around to see what was taking them so long.

"I wanted this one to be special," he finally mumbled.

Turning to face another table that needed to be wiped down, Denise glanced up at them without a thought. The man had a slight tilt to his head as he gazed at his girlfriend, his eyes incredibly soft with every sharp edge of him rounded out. Reaching out, he had one of the tendrils of her bow pinched between her fingers, fondly tugging on it.

"It is special, H," the woman insisted, "because you got it for me. Thank you—I really do love it, even if you're not sure."

Denise could only watch a moment longer, catching the woman placing her hand on his as he played with her bow. She had to turn away then, feeling more of that ice thaw from her chest.

Just in time, the bell at the kitchen window rang through the space with Kyle peering out towards her with an expectant look. Denise headed towards the kitchen, dropping off the cleaning supplies on her way.

Collecting the dishes, she strided towards the only occupied table. When the man saw her approaching, particular ticks and stiff sets returned to his bones though she could tell he was trying to keep the pleasant expression on his features. He hadn't been bluffing when he had told his girlfriend that no one else was her—he didn't know how to act that way with anyone but her.

Though it did appear he was trying, just as she wanted.

"Here we go, guys," Denise muttered, dropping off the correct plates in front of them (they both had ordered breakfast dishes, though it was too late in the day to still even be considered brunch and too early to be considered breakfast for dinner). "Everything look okay?"

"This is perfect, thank you," the woman smiled, her bow slightly askew on the back of her head.

A beat later, the man parroted, "Thank you."

The woman's smile beamed brighter when she turned to face him.

"Awesome," Denise posited, "I'll be by to check on you in a few minutes."

With that, she skittered away, leaving them to the relative privacy of their booth. In her hiding spot, Denise hesitated to pull out of her phone. She wasn't sure if she was ready to feel the icy chill of looking at Leo's smiling face in her camera roll.

She couldn't help her eyes from dancing up towards her patrons for a peek.

Rolling her lips between her teeth, Denise saw as the man reached across the table with a fork aloft in his hand. He fed his girlfriend a bite of his meal before he had even tried it himself, awaiting her reaching. She saw the way his eyes scanned over her features, a soft smile replacing that of contemplation as he watched over her reaction.

"Good?" she could see him saying.

Whatever response she gave him was enough to have a smile blooming over his face, complete with dimples and creases beside his eyes.

More and more of her thawed and she saw the absolute joy that crossed the man's face as his girlfriend extended herself over the table, lifting from her seat. His hand coming to rest on her cheek, he welcomed her in for a small kiss. Though it was a quick contact, Denise caught the way his eyes lingered closed, soaking in the moment for just a breath longer before he was dropped back in reality.

He was in love with her, no doubt. As bitter and frozen as she felt today, it was hard to imagine these two ending up like herself and Leo—one heartbroken and changed, while the other a liar with a smug face.

Icicles fell from her heart as she watched them share food and quiet conversation meant for just the two of them.

Maybe they would make it.

—————

thank you so much for reading!! sorry for any mistakes and please lmk if you have any fun ideas!

258 notes · View notes

starlight-write · 1 month

Text

Bad idea

A/N: Yeah...it's been six months since I've even touched this blog but I have a new hyperfixation so here we are. Kind of wrote this in a daze but let me know what you think, as well as any other prompts or requests you'd like to see!

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Pairings: Ler!Alastor, Lee!Angeldust, Switch!Charlie (All Platonic)

Summary: Angel somehow convinces Charlie to pull a prank on Alastor. Neither are prepared for the consequences this will have.

Warnings: Tickling, Swearing, Mild sex jokes

Word Count: 2145

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Yeah this was a bad idea.

Rapid footsteps could be heard booming down the hallways of the hotel as Charlie and Angeldust found themselves running for their lives away from one of the most powerful overlords in Hell.

Charlie couldn't quite say what possessed her to get involved with one of Angeldust's pranks, maybe it was boredom or a desire to bond with her friend, but common sense should've told her to back out once Angel named their target.

It was no secret the Radio Demon had a soft spot for his favorite dish which he cooked at the same time each day without fail.

It was also no secret that the demon's oral hygiene was...lacking.

No matter how many times he was informed of this fact, politely or otherwise, Alastor just did not seem to care about keep that particular area clean.

So of course, when the spider demon suggested the two of them mix toothpaste in with the demon's jambalaya, Charlie knew the deal was too hilarious to pass up.

The look on the demon's face when he came back to see that his food had turned blue was priceless.

Yeah, a bad idea, but hilarious nonetheless.

Or it would be until the demon had caught up to them at least.

Neither of them thought the demon would actually hurt them over something like this, seeing as it would hurt his own goals in the long run, but they weren't too keen on finding out what he would do instead.

The pair stopped abruptly at the end of the hallway in front of the only other elevator on that floor. Angeldust crouched and frantically pressed the down button, while Charlie's dumbass was trying to pry the doors open.

"You're seriously telling me you didn't have a better escape plan than just yelling 'Run'?"

"Hey, I didn't actually think we'd make it as far as actually getting into that creep's room. The plan was to at least be able to outrun you but you're a lot faster than I would've thought, Princess." The spider chucked.

The girl's jaw dropped at hearing that. "I thought this stupid prank was a chance for us to bond! You were just going to ditch me to take the fall for your stupid idea?!?!"

The elevator chimed as the doors opened.

"Yeah, pretty much." The spider chuckled as he jumped inside.

Betrayal and a bit of anger filled the girl as her eyes went red and horns grew on top of her head. She grunted as she tackled her friend inside the elevator, doors closing behind her.

Angel grunted as he hit the ground. "Aww, did I make the pretty princess mad? I don't see what the big deal is, whatever that red freak has planned, he'll go a lot easier on you." The demon said as he smiled up at his friend.

"Yeah, well you're gonna wish you'd stayed behind once I'm through with you."

With that, the girl began skittering her fingers rapidly underneath the spider's arms.

Whatever smartass remark Angel was going to say next died in his throat and was replaced with hysterical laughter as his worst spot was targeted.

"aaa-AAH! AHAHA-Charlie! CHARLIHEHEHEHAHA!!! WAHAHAHIT!! Wait- DONT- AHAHAHAA!!!" The spider demon cried out as he began kicking his legs viciously.

Charlie had been meaning to test her friend's sensitivity for a while now. She had seen how small touches and pokes affected her friend from time to time. She'd noticed when Husk began giving quick pinches to the spider's ribs whenever he mad a dirty joke or was becoming too much for the cat to handle. Or when her girlfriend used a pen to poke around the spider's torso whenever she needed to herd him away from something. She especially noticed how Angel's face contorted each time as he fought to suppress his smile. Charlie had been waiting for the longest time to ask the demon about it, or test her theory herself. Y'know... to bond.

So yeah, Angel had this coming for a while now.

So focused on her revenge, neither her or Angel noticed the elevator open to the main floor, where Alastor was waiting patiently for the two of them right outside the entrance.

"Well well well, seems the two little troublemakers have turned on each other already, how fun!" The demon grinned evilly before conjuring up a pair of tentacles to yank the pair out of the elevator.

The two of them yelped as they were dragged from their hiding spot and held midair by the appendages.

Alastor looked the two of them up and down, eye twitching as he did so. "So...it's clear to me that you two heathens are looking for a death sentence, which I am more than happy to provide. But before I get to teaching the two of you a lesson, I am curious who's genius idea it was to mess with the Radio Demon in the first place."

"Mine!" Angel exclaimed proudly. Earning a confused look from Charlie.

"What? He clearly thought my idea was good, obviously I want credit for it." Smug bastard. Alastor did not seem amused with his confession however, Angel's comment actually seeming to have annoyed him even further.

"I thought so." The demon said. "I'd expect this level of childishness from someone like you, although I'm thankful it wasn't of a more perverted nature. However..." He turned his focus to Charlie who was still trying to wriggle her way out of the grip the appendage had around her waist.

"I expected much more from you, Charlie. Why I'd go as far to say I'm disappointed in you."

She felt a pang in her chest at hearing the demon's words.

"No, Alastor...I'm sorry if we upset you. I just thought it would be a bit of harmless fun! And Angel never asks to do anything with me so I got a bit excited. I'm sorry."

A frown quickly replaced Angel's smug grin and he averted his gaze to the floor.

Alastor couldn't help but chuckle at the two of them. "Oh you two are so sweet...it makes me sick. But how could I not accept such a heartfelt apology coming from my favorite hostess?"

The two perked up almost immediately.

"So...we're off the hook?" Angel asked hopefully.

Alastor fiddled with his staff as if bored by this whole conversation. "Well, seeing that neither of you are getting maimed today, I'd say yes...to an extent."

"To an extent?" The princess asked.

"Well I still have to teach the two of you a lesson somehow. No one messes with the Radio Demon and gets away with it." He smiled. "However, I do believe Charlie here has given me a wonderful idea how to do that~"

She looked at him, confused. "What do you mean by-AAAAAAAA!!"

Charlie let out a shriek as she felt something wriggle on the back of her knee. She looked down to see a much smaller tentacle scribbling along the dreaded spot. She began kicking her legs out desperately only to be stopped by two more tentacles holding them in place.

The attack quickly threw the girl into hysterics, the one tentacle already throwing her into a frenzy. Screaming and whipping her head side to side, she pushed and pounded her fists against the appendage retraining her, trying and failing to reach down to stop the offending tentacle that was honing in on her worst spot.

Angeldust couldn't help but laugh at her dramatic reaction. Although, he wasn't too keen on getting his shit wrecked again. Thinking he could use his charm to smooth-talk his way out of this situation, seeing as the demon avoided him like the plague if he could talk dirty enough.

"You guys are full of surprises today, arent'cha?" He said using his little flirtatious tone, knowing it annoyed Alastor to no end. "I'm proud your old ass is finally experimenting, dust nuts. I'm more than happy to help you explore with bondage but I can't say I'm all that into this tickling stuff."

The demon turned to him and grinned evilly. "Oh, good! That's exactly what I was afraid of."

Yeah, bad idea.

Angel's wrists were snatched up by yet another appendage before two more attacked his underarms for the second time that day.

"GAHAHAHAHAHAD OKAY!! OKAY CUHUHUHUT IT OHOHOUT!!"

Angel screamed, trying with all his power to pull his arms down but it was no use, the radio demon had the two of them completely and hopelessly trapped.

Alastor just hummed, pressing a hand to his chin and pretended to think. "Don't think you two have learned your lesson quite yet. Although, I am new to this particular method. Hows about I ask an expert. Oh Charlie~" He turned to the princess again. "Do tell me, how effective would you say is tickling your enemies into submission?"

The poor girl couldn't even get a word out between her screaming fits of laughter. All she could do was shake her head and pound her fists against her restraints as the back of her knee was tickled mercilessly.

"AAHAHAHAHA- STAHAHAAAAAA- ALASTAAAHAHA PLEHEHEHEHE-"

Alastor leaned in with one hand cupping his ear. "What's that? I'm sorry, I couldn't quite understand. I don't speak heathen, after all." He teased. "Angeldust would you mind interpreting?"

Angel began to lose himself in his own fit of hysterics as yet another one of the tentacles found its way to his stomach, scribbling wildly.

Although he was tempted to sprout his extra sets of arms, Angel has been in enough tickle fights with Cherri to know that underneath those arms would be exploited as well and just make the agonizing feeling ten times worse.

It took a lot more work for Angel to reach the same level of hysterics Charlie was currently in. Even with the three tentacles making him laugh his head off, Angel would say he was still holding out better than he normally would. At least compared to Charlie, who wasn't even fully restrained but was still completely losing her mind just from that one spot.

Alastor noticed this as well and seeing as anything more would probably make the poor girl faint, he focused his attention on Angeldust.

"You still feeling smart? Tell me, you still think your little genius idea was worth the trouble?"

The demon conjured up yet another pair of tentacles to poke and prod at his victim before they settled on attacking the demon's thighs instead.

Whatever control Angeldust thought he'd maintained before disappeared immediately. The merciless tickling in three different areas proved too much for him to handle.

"NOOHOHOHO- NO! I DOHOHOHON'T! I'M SORRYHEHEHEHEHE- I PROHOHOMISE IT WON"T HAHAHAPPEN AGAHAHAHAIN!!!"

"Good enough."

And with that, the tickling stopped. The tentacles carefully setting Charlie on the ground and disappearing while Angeldust was unceremoniously dropped midair.

Charlie huffed and hugged her legs to her chest, residual laughter still wracking her body.

Angeldust peeled his face off the ground and tried to recover from the torture as well.

"Well, I certainly hope that little lesson drilled something useful into your skulls. It's almost as if you act like children, you'll be treated as such. you, Charlie for that wonderful new torture tactic." He said smiling down at his victims.

Angeldust huffed and brushed himself off as he finally stood up. "Yeah, yeah. I'm glad you found something that gets your dick hard, just remember that consent is key before you go around fucking people up. I mean look at Charlie, you practically killed her." He said, gesturing to his friend who was still lying on the floor.

The demon let out a short laugh as he looked at the girl. Alastor snapped his fingers and a glass of water appeared beside Charlie's corpse.

"Well this certainly was an entertaining bonding activity." He said, turning to Angeldust once more.

"Just remember, I won't be as forgiving the next time you decide to pull a stunt like this." The demon said, finally before making his way back down the hall.

"If you took care of that rancid breath I wouldn't have too!" Angel shouted.

"Smells better than the musk you track in after one of your little shoots!"

Angeldust flipped the demon off as he watched him disappear down the hallway.

Eh, he's got a point. He thought to himself and looked down at his friend who was still in a fetal position on the floor.

Charlie had finally caught her breath and turned over on her back. Angel crouched down to inspect the damage.

"You alive?" He asked, giving her a soft punch on her arm.

The princess just glared at him and stuck a finger in his face.

"I am never listening to your dumbass again." She declared, earning another laugh from her friend.

"Yeah, that was a bad idea."

#sfw tickling community #hazbin hotel tickle #ler!alastor #ler!charlie #switch!charlie #lee!charlie #lee!angeldust

201 notes · View notes

misshoneyimhome · 19 days

Note

I have a question. can you make write something about Matty(kniesy) and Joe threesome with reader. like Kniesy and reader are dating or it’s Joe and reader that are reading and they let Matt/Joe fuck reader with them? Idk I js think it’d be kinda sexy to read about a threesome about those two and reader🙃

Babe, I'm not sure what I've written 🙈 It almost feels like a saucy and steamy tale featuring two adorable golden retrievers! Nevertheless, I put my best effort into it, and I hope it's somewhat enjoyable 😉🤍

Warnings; 18+ smut; threesome - boyfriend!Joseph Woll x Reader x Matthew Knies; Oral sex (f and m receiving), fingering, hand job, penetrative sex (p in v), cum inside, protective sex (p in v);

Word count; 3.6k

・✶ ｡ﾟ

With a Honey in The Middle I Matthew Knies & Jospeh Woll 🖋️⚡️🌶️

You'd always felt a deep connection with Matthew Knies since you first met him. However, it was Joseph Woll who ultimately won over your heart.

You met Joe last year during the off-season, and as you spent a couple of months dating, he gradually introduced you to his team. However, it wasn't until about three months into dating, when you officially became exclusive, that he started inviting you to team events.

At first, you wondered if Joe was ashamed of you, but you soon realised that wasn't the case. He simply wanted to take things slow and ensure you were comfortable with his lifestyle and career before getting too serious. To say the least, Joe was nothing but considerate and respectful.

Moreover, he had a rule about not having penetrative sex until both of you were committed to a serious relationship. Though, you had engaged in other forms of physical intimacy, like touching and kissing for extended periods, it wasn't until he’d asked you to be his girlfriend that you took that final step. However, after that, you spent quite the number of hours together naked in bed.

Joseph Woll was nothing but an outstanding boyfriend in many ways. In fact, he was the complete opposite of the jerks you'd dated in the past, and his sweetness and caring nature were like a breath of fresh air.

Joe fulfilled all your desires. Or at least most of them. He was attentive, kind, always vocal about his feelings for you, and willing to tackle any issues that arose—again, a stark contrast to your previous experiences with guys.

To be honest, your lifestyle before meeting Joe may have leaned towards the wild side. After enduring a devastating breakup, where your ex and your best friend betrayed you by secretly dating and hooking up behind your back, you chose to focus on yourself and embrace a carefree and open way of life. However, this approach also led to some wild incidents from time to time. So, last summer, you decided to dial it back a bit, which was when you crossed paths with the goaltender. And it had felt like he was sent to you like an angel from above or something along those lines.

However, despite all that Joe offered, there was a lingering sense of something missing. For a long time, you couldn't quite put your finger on it, and even around six months into your committed relationship with Joe, that feeling persisted. And you knew you had to figure out what it was.

Then, at the Leafs’ New Year's celebration party, it occurred to you.

It was later in the evening, while Joe was engrossed in conversation with some of his teammates, where you found yourself standing somewhat apart while Cornelia went to the loo.

Seeing you standing all alone, that's when Matthew Knies approached you, as he wanted to check in and make sure everything was okay. And you didn't mind one bit. After all, Matthew was one of your closest friends from the team.

From the moment you first met, there was a special connection between the two of you. It wasn't anything romantic or sexual though, but rather a bond of genuine friendship, built on banter and cheesy humour.

Of course, you couldn't ignore the fact that he was good-looking, and despite him being a couple of years younger than you, you still found yourself drawn to his charm and outgoing personality. Yet it was nothing but friendly, or at least you thought so.

It wasn't until that New Year's Eve, that you realised what you’d secretly been missing. When the clock struck twelve, and Joe was still engrossed in conversation with friends, your New Year's kiss unexpectedly ended up being with Matthew. Though, it was just a simple peck on the cheek, delicately placed, you still felt a tingle of joy where his lips had touched.

At first, you weren't quite sure why he did it. But then a few days later, when he apologised, he tried to explain that it was just a spontaneous gesture in the moment, with no intention to seduce you in any way.

Yet, deep down, you couldn't ignore the spark he had ignited within you. He had awakened a desire that you hadn't felt with your boyfriend.

Naturally, you were consumed with guilt. You loved Joe deeply, and the thought of entertaining feelings for another guy, especially in that way, filled you with unease. Yet, despite your efforts to push aside the feelings Matthew had stirred within you, they persisted. So, you made the difficult decision to confide in Joe.

To your surprise, Joe's reaction was not one of anger or hurt, but rather calm and composed understanding.

"He likes you," Joe stated softly, his expression gentle as he looked at you. "And you like him."

You were momentarily stunned, absorbing his words before silently nodding in acknowledgment. ”But I love you," you affirmed firmly yet quietly, meeting his gaze.

"I know," Joe responded simply.

His composed reaction left you slightly bewildered. You had expected a more emotional response from him. However, as you engaged in deep, heartfelt conversations, you realised that Joe had his own concerns and insecurities. He was worried that he wasn't living up to your expectations, and his greatest fear was that he wasn't meeting your needs.

Moreover, Joe wasn't oblivious to the connection between you and his teammate. Despite his trust in you and your commitment to honesty, he sensed that your bond with Matthew went beyond mere friendship.

In fact, it was Joe who proposed the idea of inviting Matthew into your personal space, specifically, the bedroom.

This suggestion had been brewing in his mind for a while. And after witnessing your interactions with the younger player on the team, he noticed a different side of you—a side that was more playful, flirtatious, with a spark in your eye.

So, when you revealed the New Year's kiss to him, Joe felt compelled to act on his idea. He was a little surprised though by his own confidence and excitement about the prospect of inviting his teammate into an intimate encounter. It was as if the fantasy of you fulfilling your needs with him also brought Joe pleasure. And perhaps, he hoped that your intimacy with Matthew would bring some sort of closure to your longing for him.

Initially, Matthew hesitated, wary of overstepping boundaries with Joe and jeopardising his relationship with the goalie. However, after discussions between the two players, and Joe's reassurance that you had expressed your desire for him, he eventually agreed.

It was no secret that Matthew had thought about you, maybe even fantasised about you a few times. But he genuinely didn't want to be the cause of any rift between you and Joe. He cared deeply about both of you. Yet, the temptation of the idea was too strong to resist, especially since it was Joe's own suggestion.

And when Joe shared the idea with you, you were equally taken aback. Your initial assumption was that he was only doing it to please you. However, as he explained the reasoning behind the idea once again, you realised that it wasn't necessarily about your attraction to Matthew. It was also about fulfilling Joe's sexual fantasy of sharing you with someone else, all in an effort to satisfy you. And that was something you couldn't bring yourself to reject.

The atmosphere in the spacious bedroom was already charged with heat as the three of you came together. Soft piano tunes played in the background, and the lights casting a gentle ambiance.

However, before diving into the moment, you had all agreed upon some ground rules: prioritising protection if things escalated with Matthew and he wanted to be inside you. Proceeding at a comfortable pace. And ensuring everyone's comfort throughout.

Taking a deep breath, you acknowledged the gravity of the situation, but also felt an overwhelming sense of excitement. Matthew was undeniably attractive. His stature was imposing, with strong arms and a sculpted torso that exuded power.

Though slightly bulkier than Joe due to his muscular build, they shared the same towering height of 6"3, making you feel almost like a mouse between them.

With Joe standing behind you, Matthew stood before you and slowly began to undress you, revealing you down to your underwear. Then, in a moment charged with anticipation, he leaned in and closed the distance between you with tenderness.

Cradling your face in his hands, Matthew connected his lips with yours as he shared your first real kiss on the lips. The kiss was both gentle and profound as his tongue delicately explored your mouth, intertwining with yours. And surrendering to the sensation, you let your hands roam over his bare chest, feeling the solidity of his muscles beneath your touch.

Then breaking away from the kiss, you gasped for air, taking a moment to catch your breath as Joe's arms enveloped you, his hand guiding your chin to turn back towards him, eager to connect your mouths. Meanwhile, Matthew seized the opportunity to strip completely, his gaze fixed on you as he freed his hardening member.

The atmosphere was thick with sensuality as you then shifted your focus back to the man before you, while Joe discarded his boxers, followed by the men taking off your underwear as well. And with all pieces of clothing removed, exposing your breasts and core, the anticipation mounted. Their hands explored and massaged your breasts in another sensual moment before guiding you onto the bed.

Despite your previous adventurous nightlife, engaging in a threesome was uncharted territory for you. So, you simply allowed yourself to be guided by Joe and Matthew. While neither of them had experienced this before, their sexual prowess allowed them to navigate the situation with confidence.

And as you all settled onto the mattress, Matthew assumed a slightly more dominant role, despite being the invited guest. He instructed you to lie on your back while Joe lounged beside you.

You then shared a deep kiss with Joe, his hands gently caressing your breasts, while yours took a hold of his shaft. But as Matthew positioned himself between your legs, a gasp escaped your lips when you felt his tongue trace along your folds, igniting a wave of pleasure.

"Oh... shi..." you moaned as his mouth expertly explored every inch of your sensitive flesh, from your entrance to your clit, savouring every drop of your nectar. And with his hands he held firmly around your hips, anchoring you in place while he worked his magic.

Matthew was undoubtedly skilled at oral pleasure, leaving you utterly mesmerised by his technique. While Joe had only occasionally gone down on you, it wasn't his preferred activity, and you never wanted to pressure him into it. So, having Matthew between your legs, unashamedly indulging in eating you out, it filled you with pure, unadulterated pleasure.

And as the intensity grew, it became increasingly challenging for you to focus. Still, you made an effort to gently stroke Joe's member, interspersing sloppy kisses between your shared moments of passion.

But it was a struggle. Matthew's talent pushed you beyond the brink, and you could feel the tell-tale signs of an impending orgasm building in the pit of your stomach. Your moans grew louder with each passing moment until Matthew suddenly pulled back, allowing you to gasp for air as you shifted your attention to Joe.

However, the moment your lustful gaze met Matthew's, he wasted no time inserting two long fingers into your core, eliciting a loud moan from you. It was almost effortless for him to stretch you, and as he pumped his digits in and out, stimulating your walls, you couldn't escape the imminent climax.

Then with a smirk on his face, Matthew watched as you squirmed and rolled your eyes back in pleasure, while Joe felt his own arousal throbbing in your hand, his eyes fixated on your every movement.

It was surprisingly arousing for him to watch you being pleasured by his teammate in a way he hadn't done himself. And as he kept his gaze fixed on you, he sensed your impending climax as the motion of your hand increased in speed, only to suddenly halt as you gasped for air.

Matthew's fingers continued their expert work, maintaining a steady rhythm of motion, scissoring, and curling to pinpoint your sensitive spot. And when he hit the mark, evidenced by your near scream of pleasure, he responded to your plea of "just like that" by repeating the motion with precision.

And it didn't take much longer for you to close your eyes completely, arching your back as you reached your climax, both men holding their breath as they savoured the sight of you in ecstasy. You didn’t know how many seconds went by before you then gradually regained control of your breath, and Matthew gently withdrew his fingers, leaving your pulsating core feeling stimulated and empty.

"Fuck, you're hot when you come," Matthew muttered, his eyes fixed on you as you lay before him.

And slowly opening your eyes to meet his gaze, you couldn't help but flash a satisfied smile before biting down on your lower lip, your eyes then shifting to Joe's.

"Did that feel good?" Joe asked softly, concern evident in his tone, and you offered him a gentle nod. "Do you want more?"

"I want you," you replied sweetly, the desire to feel the touch of your boyfriend overwhelming you.

Then with silent communication between the hockey players, they shifted positions so that Joe positioned himself between your legs, with Matthew kneeling next to you. Joe leaned in to share a passionate kiss with you as he then lined the tip of his length up with your entrance and slowly pushed himself inside. Thanks to Matthew providing you with your first orgasm of the evening, he slipped in with ease.

As Joe supported himself by kneeling back, he took hold of your leg and placed it on his chest and shoulder, rocking his hips to penetrate you deeply. Meanwhile, Matthew fetched a pillow to support your head, ensuring your comfort as you took a firm grip of his shaft and began pumping to the rhythm of Joe's thrusts.

It was a scene of sensual pleasure as the three of you indulged in each other. With Joe's member stimulating your sensitive walls, your moans reverberated through the room, intermingled with the boys' heavy breathing as they felt their climaxes building.

And sensing your enjoyment, Joe picked up the pace slightly, watching intently as you stroked Matthew's cock. He observed your breasts bouncing to the rhythm, and when he noticed Matthew relaxing into the pleasure, he increased his speed.

In sync with Joe's motions, you jerked the younger player off, licking your lips as you watched him revel in your touch. Matthew gazed down at you, running his fingers through your hair before tracing his thumb across your lower lip and teasing it into your mouth, prompting you to suckle gently.

"Mmm... want those sweet lips around me..." Matthew muttered under his breath as you continued to stroke him. And with a soft moan, he withdrew his thumb, relishing in the sound of your pleasure.

Then, casting a glance at Joe, Matthew seemed to convey a silent command, asserting his dominance in the moment. Following his lead, Joe gently withdrew from your heat, releasing your leg as Matthew held a smirk on his face, instructing you to roll over onto your stomach.

Bending one leg slightly, you offered Joe access to your core once more, supporting yourself on your arm as he quickly found your wet pussy. With one knee supporting him and the other bent, Joe pressed his throbbing member into you, filling you up to your depths once again.

Meanwhile, Matthew moved to kneel before you, his hard length standing proud and ready to be greeted by your mouth. And gently, you took him in, coating his shaft with your saliva as you seductively gazed up at him, stroking the part your mouth couldn't reach.

The scene was nothing short of scorching. Your pussy was beyond stimulated by Joe's thrusts, causing you to moan in sync with the two lads. Matthew felt a rush of pleasure as you eagerly took him down your throat, while Joe sensed his climax approaching with the tightening of your muscles around him.

You did your best to bob your head in sensual motions, but as your mind drifted into a blissful state, your vision blurred, making it increasingly difficult to maintain a rhythm. You had to pull away a few times to catch your breath, though still stroking Matthew before taking him in once more.

You felt Joe's hands on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin as he sped up and increased his force, and you could sense his impending climax.

"Mmm... damn..." he muttered under his breath, as he tried to hold back his release. He wanted you to come with him, just as you always did. And sensing your cunt clenching around him, he knew you weren't too far away either.

It was almost overwhelming, the sensation of Joe's shaft filling you so perfectly, as if it was tailor-made for you. And unable to keep up the rhythm with Matthew's cock in your mouth, you had to let go, your mind consumed by ecstasy and your cries echoing loudly in the room.

"Joe... babe... I'm close," you panted, your eyes almost closing as you continued to pleasure the man in front of you.

With your warning, Joe thrust harder and faster, the sound of your bodies colliding mixing with your moans. And with a few final thrusts, you both reached climax, him releasing into you as you peaked.

Letting out a deep grunt after he'd finished, Joe slowly pulled back, and you had to pause your movements, still coming down from the intensity of your second orgasm. A moment of heavy breathing followed, the air thick with sweat and the scent of sex.

And as you returned to the present moment, you looked up at Matthew, the only one yet to climax, gasping slightly as Joe carefully withdrew, and you felt his cum dripping from your cunt.

"And how do you want to finish, Kniesy?" you asked him with a sweet, flirtatious smile.

Considering his options for a moment, Matthew thought about it. Your talent with your mouth was undeniable, making it an easy choice to finish with your skills. However, he also desired the feeling of being inside you, despite Joe's preference for using protection.

So, with a confident smirk, he chose option two.

Joe then handed him a foil package, prompting him to cover up, followed by Matthew instructing you to roll onto your back once again. Then once covered, he positioned himself between your legs and entered you.

"Oh yes," you cried out as Matthew filled you up, his member slightly larger, or at least thicker, than Joe's, and swiftly he established a rhythm, eager to maintain the momentum toward climax.

And as you surrendered to his movements, you lifted your body slightly and supported yourself on your elbows, while Joe knelt beside you once more. His member still hard, you couldn't resist giving him a hungry look, parting your lips to take him in and clean him up. You tasted a mixture of your own fluids and his salty, sticky cum.

Though you knew he couldn't come again, you heard his soft, contented moans as you pleasured him.

Meanwhile, you felt Matthew increasing his pace, thrusting vigorously against you, nearing his climax.

"Fuck, you feel amazing…" he moaned, his breath heavy as he approached his peak, his movements becoming more intense. The combination of your fluids and Joe's release provided an incredibly slippery sensation, and as he lost control, he became rougher than you'd ever experienced with Joe.

Releasing Joe's cock, you had to let out a deep breath. "Oh, shit…" you exclaimed as Matthew overstimulated you, a few tears trickling from your eyes.

And at last, he reached his climax. With a loud, deep grunt, Matthew closed his eyes and leaned back in ecstasy, releasing into the condom with force.

Your body felt numb from the intense encounter with the two hockey players, rendering you unable to speak. And as you all settled down from the moment, Joe smiled down at you, satisfaction evident in his eyes. He relished seeing you satisfied, and as Matthew carefully withdrew and headed to the bathroom to dispose of the condom, Joe leaned down you share a deep kiss with you.

"Thank you," you murmured softly, genuine gratitude etched on your face. Though it hadn't been overly adventurous, it had been a change, and exactly what you needed.

"I just want you to be happy," Joe replied softly as you both slowly shifted positions and settled on the bed, facing each other.

"I am, Joe, I really am – I'm just amazed you let me have this experience," you whispered softly, pressing your lips together before offering a sweet smile.

"I'd do anything for you."

It was a tender moment, the connection between you palpable as you shared another gentle kiss.

Turning your gaze to Matthew emerging from the bathroom, the three of you exchanged heartfelt chuckles.

"Got room for one more?" the younger player quipped cheekily with a smirk, and in response, you simply gestured for him to join and lie behind you, spooning you while your hand intertwined with Joe’s.

You couldn't deny that your attraction to the forward hadn't disappeared. If anything, it may have been heightened by the experience. But you still knew your heart belonged to the goalie. And as the three of you lounged together, with you in the middle, you exchanged soft and tender kisses with both of them.

#18+ smut #joseph woll imagine #joseph woll smut #matthew knies imagine #matthew knies smut #toronto maple leafs imagine #nhl hockey smut

110 notes · View notes

writeplace-wrongtime · 8 months

Text

The Bet

*cracks knuckles* fine, I'll do it myself.

Okay but seriously, I've only binge watched the first 6 seasons of criminal minds, so I'm probably a bit off with character personalities.

This turned into mostly the team finding out, so if anyone wants a part 2 with more scenes pre-reveal I'd love to write it!

masterlist coming soon

Word Count: 3k

CW// brief mention of kidnapping case, use of y/n (i'm sorry), not beta'd

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

‘When was the last time you saw Hotch leave before the rest of us?’

The most recent case had been a relatively short one, allowing the team to get back to Quantico reasonably early. A young man caught kidnapping local women, caught easily when he appeared on CCTV taking his latest victim. Three women, three days. All had minor injuries, but all were alive. It had been the ideal end to the case and no loss of life meant the paperwork was minimal.

Emily’s voice caught the attention of Derek, who followed her gaze to the elevator, where the Unit Chief stood waiting. He raised his eyebrows, trying to think back on the last few months of late nights, week-long cases and multiple middle of the night calls.

‘Not since before his divorce,’ Spencer piped up helpfully from behind his desk, packing away the days half-finished reports and case notes before he too looked up. ‘Hey, has anyone seen y/l/n? They mentioned going for food on the jet, and I know this really nice Indian restaurant not far from here, I was going to suggest we all go.’

Now that Emily thought about it, she hadn’t seen you after you’d gone to Hotch’s office to drop off your report. Barely five minutes later, Hotch had made a beeline for the elevator, leaving unusually early compared to normal, and then you too had disappeared.

‘Holy shit.’ The dots were connecting in her head. ‘They’re totally hooking up!’

This gathered the full attention of everyone in the room.

‘Who’s hooking up?’ Penelope had her bag in hand as she peeked in the door, drawn to the gossip like a moth to a flame.

‘Y/l/n and Hotch!’

‘Oh my god!’ Penelope was quick to rush over to the group now huddled around Emily’s desk.

‘No way,’ Derek was shaking his head, arms crossed over his chest. They’d been working as a team for years, there’s no way you and Hotch were in a secret relationship, and no one had noticed. ‘Come on, you really think they could have hidden something like that from us?’

Spencer shrugged, joining the conversation fully. ‘Hotch hid the fact that Emily was alive from all of us for months, so a secret relationship wouldn’t be that hard for him.’ Emily grimaced at the comparison, searching for any hint of bitterness in his tone, though found none. He had been hurt that they hadn’t trusted him to know the secret, but that hurt had faded over the couple years since Emily had returned. He offered her an apologetic smile, as if only realising what he’d said.

‘Want to make this more interesting?’ Quick to bring the conversation back to inane office gossip, Emily reached into her bag to pull out her purse. ‘100 dollars they’re doing it.’

‘Oh, you’re on. 100 they’re not.’ Derek placed two fifties on top of Emily’s two. Another two went down, and they both looked up to see Spencer sheepishly tucking his wallet back into his pocket.

‘I think they’ve been dating for a couple weeks now, I assumed everyone else had noticed.’

Quickly, Penelope had joined, and much to everyone’s surprise, so did Rossi. Penelope thought they’d just started dating, and Rossi thought it had been at least six months. JJ scooped up the cash, promising to be a neutral party to assure the winner got the whole lot. Plus, when this inevitably went wrong, she did not want to be involved in the fallout.

‘Okay, but how do we get them to admit-‘

‘Or not admit,’ Derek cut in.

‘Or not admit, what’s going on?’ Emily mused. Everyone’s eyes instantly went to Penelope.

‘Oh no, no, no-‘

Penelope’s office felt quite cramped with some many people in it, the space only meant to house one technical analyst, not one technical analyst and five nosey special agents. Five nosey agents who were all huddled around Penelope to peer at the screen over her shoulders.

‘Oh it does not feel right tracking their phones like this,’ Penelope’s fingers danced across the keys as she brought up both locations, ‘My powers should only be used for good, not- not snooping on our friends personal lives!’ Still, she let the trace run its course, displaying the address for the others to see.

‘That’s Hotch’s apartment.’ Spencer recognised the address immediately. Two little dots blinked on the screen, Hotch’s address hovering above them.

‘So they’re together, that doesn’t mean they’re hooking up.’ Derek knew his argument was weak, but hell he had 100 dollars riding on it.

‘Oh come on, they sneak out and go to Hotch’s apartment and you think they’re what, making cookies?’

‘Kids, stop fighting,’ Dave put a hand on both Derek and Emily’s shoulders. ‘Why don’t you just phone y/l/n, invite them for food, see what happens.’

‘You think they’d lie to us?’ Spencer asked, as Penelope pulled out her phone and dialled your number.

‘They’ve been lying to us about this for weeks, if you’re bet is right anyway,’ Emily nudged him with her elbow. He nudged her back.

‘Technically it’s an omission not a lie, since none of us directly asked if they’re-‘

‘Shhh its ringing!’ The room fell to silence as Penelope put her phone to her ear.

Even though it had been a short case, you had been looking forward to getting back. And by how quickly Aaron had offered up his apartment for a movie night, he had been too. It was important to keep a clear line between boss and boyfriend while in the field, and it was only professional to stay in separate rooms during cases, so it felt good to have Aaron back in boyfriend mode, with comforting touches and quality time away from the office, away from the titles and roles that accompanied your positions at the BAU.

You had finished your report in record time. It was pure luck that everyone was too caught up in their own work to notice you slipping away. After dropping your report on Aaron’s desk, you had made a quick exit, waiting by Aaron’s car until he joined you in the car park. It had become routine to leave short gaps between your arrivals and exits, allowing the illusion that you had travelled separately, from different apartments, in different cars. It was a short ride back to his apartment.

You had only just settled back against Aaron’s side, a bowl of popcorn perched between your thighs when your phone buzzed.

‘Hey beautiful, where’d you run off to?’ Penelope’s sweet voice rang out from the other end of the line, ‘We’re going for food, you coming with?’

You glanced sideways at Aaron, who kept his eyes on the TV, though you knew he was listening in by the way his arm tensed around you. You gently squeezed the arm closest to you, relaxing further into his hold so he knew you weren’t planning on leaving.

‘Sorry Pen, not tonight, I’m, uh, not feeling great after today’s case…’ You trailed off, hoping she’d accept the excuse and you’d be home free. You should’ve known it wouldn’t be as simple as that. There was pause, and you could’ve sworn you could hear hushed conversation. Must’ve been the rest of the team packing up to leave. You felt almost guilty that they were still at the office, when you’d left as soon as your own report was done.

‘Oh honey!’ Her voice was laced with sympathy, ‘That’s it, we’ll bring the food to you! Nothing like good food and company to cheer up the soul!’ Your head fell back against Aaron’s chest with more force than necessary. Curse her and her kindness.

‘No, no it’s okay, really-‘ You tried to prevent your voice from giving away your panic, ‘No need to go out of your way! Tell the guys I said enjoy!’

‘Its not out of our way at all! See you in twenty, gorgeous.’ The line went dead before you had a chance to respond. You could feel the vibrations of Aaron’s quiet laugh behind you, tilting your head back to look up at him.

‘You think this funny?’ Your words were pointed, but the smile on your lips gave away your hidden amusement. In lieu of an answer, he leaned down to pepper kisses along your shoulder, the side of your neck, anywhere he could reach. You savoured the warmth of his lips against your skin, a soft moan escaping your parted lips as the kisses became more heated. Tilting your head back to give him easier access, you let out a disappointed whine when he instead detached from you, gently pushing you up until you were sitting straight.

‘They’re going to be at your apartment soon,’ He reminded you, giving your arm a squeeze before moving to stand. Your cheeks were flushed red, taking a few steadying breaths as he took the popcorn from your lap, placing it on the coffee table, before holding his hands out to you. Shooting him a mock glare, you resigned yourself to getting off the comfortable couch and getting your shoes on. As much as you loved your co-workers, so much that they were practically family, you really did not want to spend the evening with them, not when you could be curled up on the couch with Aaron, pretending the outside world didn’t exist.

‘Shit,’ You nearly tripped over your untied laces in your hurry to turn, ‘My car’s still at the office, Aaron I don’t have time to get back there, get my car AND-‘ Your words were halted by the soft press of his lips on yours. Clearly, you weren’t the only one wishing you could stay. Melting against him, your hands found purchase on the solid expanse of his shoulders, fingers digging into the soft material of his t-shirt. He pulled back, just far enough so he could press his forehead against yours.

‘I’ll drive,’ His voice was quiet in the minimal space between you, ‘Tell them your car broke down and I offered you a lift home.’ You just hummed your agreement, too caught up in his closeness to really be paying full attention. Overwhelming warmth encompassed you as you breathed in the faint smell of his cologne, trying to catalogue the feeling in your mind as your panic disappeared with the gentlest of touches.

‘Or,’ You offered mildly, blinking up at him through your lashes, ‘We could just turn our phones off, lock the door, and deal with all of this tomorrow?’ Soft open-mouthed kisses were pressed to the column of his throat in between your words, hands climbing to wrap around the back of his neck. Your fingertips teased the baby hairs at the base of his skull. You knew he wouldn’t take you up on the offer, even when his hands gripped at your waist, pulling you flush against him as he once again claimed your lips with his.

It had been a tough decision, keeping the relationship from your team, but you had both ultimately decided that it was for the best, at least while things were still new. Then, six weeks had turned into six months, and six months into nearly a year. It was becoming harder and harder to keep a secret, and you nearly wanted the team to catch on. You’d met Jessica, and had a proper introduction to Jack, even going so far as to have gone to a few of his soccer practices at Jack’s insistence. You had been slowly moving your stuff into his room, small things like toiletries, pyjamas and a few spare work outfits. You spent more time at Aaron’s apartment than your own. You loved it. What you didn’t love, was having to hide it all from your friends.

‘We really should go,’ Aaron murmured against your lips, ‘At least you’ll get free food out of this.’

You laughed softly at that, pressing one last kiss to his lips before pulling back, cheeks dusted pink. ‘I’d rather have you.’ A rare boyish grin was your only response, before he turned to grab his keys and you quickly tied your laces. You were soon on the familiar road home.

They didn’t wait around to see if you were rushing from Hotch’s apartment, instead piling into the back of Derek’s car haphazardly. All but JJ, who had familial responsibilities, and Rossi who just wanted to go home, managed to fit into one SUV. If Rossi had been with them to take some of the blame, Derek might’ve even thrown on the sirens and lights. Instead, he skipped through a few orange lights, and just barely stuck to the speed limits. When they arrived at the Indian restaurant, Spencer was sent to pick up the order, being deemed least likely to do something stupid like flash his badge for quicker service. Emily followed him inside to help carry it all back to the car. Even without the badge, they managed to make it in and out in under ten minutes. Luck was on their side, getting them to your apartment just 25 minutes after Penelope had hung up on you.

When they came to a stop outside your apartment complex, your car wasn’t parked in its normal spot, and they had a moment of celebration before Spencer realised the light was on inside. A light that meant you had beat them.

They all had to hide their disappointment when you greeted them at the door, not showing any sign of having rushed from one apartment to the other. Being one of the closer apartments to the office, yours was often used as a base for nights out, girl’s nights, and team movie-nights. It was the team’s apartment more than it had ever been just yours. Moving seamlessly through your kitchen grabbing plates, cutlery and glasses, Emily and Penelope set to organising the food, while Spencer and Derek moved your coffee table to the centre of the room so everyone could sit around it. It warmed you to know they felt at home here.

‘I’ll have to get someone to look at it tomorrow,’ You sounded morose enough that Emily almost believed your “car trouble” story. She just hummed her commiserations before stealing some chicken from your Jalfrezi. As much as she’d hoped to catch you and Hotch in your lie – or omission as Spencer would remind her – she enjoyed spending time with you, and this had been the perfect excuse for a team night.

‘Hotch didn’t stick around after dropping you off?’ Emily asked casually, scooping up a mouthful of curry with the edge of a poppadom. If you noticed the groups sudden interest in your conversation you didn’t show it. You shook your head, pushing the thought of his hands on your waist and his lips on your skin, out of your mind.

‘He was just being nice, he probably has better things to be doing after a case than hanging out here.’

Derek had to hide his laugh with a cough. You frowned at him, but before you could question it, Emily dragged you back into a conversation about Sergio and how he stole her bagel the other day. She glared at Derek when you weren’t looking. Conversation flowed easily after that, and it wasn’t long before everyone was on their second helping of food and the booze cupboard had been ransacked.

‘Hey babygirl, you seeing what I’m seeing?’ Derek had just sat back down with his second full plate when he spotted it; the start of your downfall. He nudged Penelope, nodding his head toward you. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, before rising nearly to her hairline. A sharp “oh my god” left her lips, before she covered her mouth. Just beneath the edge of your oversized t-shirt, a small red mark was blooming on your skin. It looked suspiciously like a hickey. A very, very new one at that. Penelope’s little outburst was quickly noted by Emily, who paused mid-conversation to notice what they had. Her shit-eating grin matched Derek’s perfectly.

‘What?’ You frowned at her, quickly glancing at Spencer opposite you. He shrugged, offering no help.

‘Maybe Hotch stuck around for a little while after all?’ There was a teasing lilt to her tone as she reached out to tug your collar a little lower. You could feel heat rising up your neck into your cheeks, a beautiful shade of crimson. Covering the offending mark with your hand, you tried to come up with an excuse. Nothing came. Opening your mouth and then closing it a few times, you tried to look anywhere but at your friends. You were caught and you knew it. They knew it too.

‘Is there any point in me saying I burnt myself?’ You tried for a smile, but it turned out more like a grimace.

‘Nope.’ Emily said, popping the “p”.

‘Aaron and I, we, uh…’ You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt, your blush darkening, as Penelope mouthed “Aaron!” at Emily, who practically giggled. You were going to have to restock your alcohol cupboard before they came round again. You took a breath, glancing around the room. All eyes were on you.

‘We’re dating.’

There was an immediate outburst of “oh my god!”s and “I knew it!”s. You had expected to feel awful when your secret was finally out in the open, but all you could feel was relief. Well, and a tinge of embarrassment. Warmth bubbled in your chest, looking around the room at your team, your family, knowing you didn’t have to hide it from them anymore.

‘What ya thinking about over there?’ Emily nudged your arm, a small tendril of guilt creeping through her. You’d obviously wanted to spend your evening with Hotch, and instead they’d dragged you away in a hurry, all just to invade your privacy. A small grin broke through your façade.

‘I’m thinking, seeing as it’s not a secret anymore, I can leave you losers and go back to spending the night with my boyfriend.’ A chorus of cheers followed your words, and someone (you suspected Emily) shouted “Go get some, girl!”.

Spencer wrinkled his nose at that. ‘Gross, remember that’s Hotch we’re taking about, he’s pretty much our work dad.’ His words caused a laugh to bubble in your chest, and you leaned over Emily to plant a big kiss on his cheek.

‘Guess that makes me your new work-mom!’ He made a big show of wiping your kiss from his cheek, but the small smile that followed gave away his charade.

‘What are you waiting for beautiful? Your man is waiting for you!’ Your wide grin echoed Penelope’s as she ushered you up and out of the living room. Your overnight gear was already at Aaron’s, so all you needed was your shoes and phone. You felt almost giddy as you threw the spare key to Spencer.

‘Don’t stay up too late kiddos!’

‘Hey, hold on a second,’ You glanced at Derek, who had started stacking plates to take to the kitchen, ‘How long has this been going on?’

‘Oh… Y’know, only about 11… months.’ You shot them an abashed smile, before darting for the door as all hell broke loose.

‘You didn’t win the bet either!’ Emily and Derek’s argument floated out the door with you, and you couldn’t help but laugh. Of course they had bet on it. You didn’t have it in you to care, instead shutting the door with a sound click. Pulling your phone out of your pocket, you dialled Aaron’s number.

‘Hey handsome,’ You couldn’t help the smile that carried through in your words, ‘You want to finish that movie?’

#aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fandom #fanfiction #secret relationship #x reader #gender neutral reader #reader insert

391 notes · View notes

tfyoulookingatgiuxs · 7 months

Text

Mama's Boy

Depressed!Eddie Munson x Reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: A very normal day at the Munson house. You were happy to visit your sweet boyfriend, too bad for you, he couldn't say the same thing. He wasn't in the mood and wanted to be alone. You had never seen him like this and that's why you had to ask Wayne for help.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Insicure!Eddie, Depressed!Eddie, Patient!Reader, angst, blurb, fluff, hurt/confort, theme about alcohol addiction, theme about sigarettes, theme about drugs, past traumas, mommy issue, suicide, bad language, Eddie act like little child. (Whatever you now read about this one-shot is made up. Nothing I've written is canonical. Everything I have written is nothing that has been seen or confirmed in the Duffer Brothers' Stranger Things series!!!)

𝐀/𝐍: Sorry for my english, this is not my native languages. Please support new writers and reblog!Hope you enjoy! Anyway, if you shake your phone/tablet the daisies move :/ (DIVIDER NOT MINE)

It was a simple fall day in Hawkins. The streets were quiet and the days too, while the citizens were already preparing for the Halloween party that would take place in a few months.

Autumn was perhaps one of your favorite seasons and apparently also that of your metalhead boyfriend, Eddie Munson.

Today as expected, you got ready to go to his trailer. You were supposed to go out together to pick up a movie at Family Video and spend the afternoon like that. You were happy to see Eddie again after a long week due to your studies. You were finally free and no one could take that smile off your face. Or at least that's what you thought...

You knocked cheerfully on the door only to hear an "Coming!" from the other side. His voice was hoarse. It wasn't Eddie. In fact, Uncle Wayne opens the door for you. He gave you a warm smile and invited you in but after you stepped into the trailer his smile disappeared turning his face into a worried look. You wanted to know what was wrong, but you thought maybe it wasn't any of your business. Maybe it was personal stuff and you didn't want to intrude. So you looked around noticing that Eddie wasn't there. "Is Eddie home?" You put your arms behind your back waiting for a response from the adult as he headed towards the kitchen counter.

He nodded "Yes, he's in his room but..." He didn't continue his sentence, in fact he seemed to be looking for the right words. You got worried thinking something bad had happened but then Wayne spoke "If you want I'll call him but I'm warning you kid, he's not well" His tone was low and you could see the concern "What happened?" You asked while hoping that nothing serious had happened. Wayne sighed and then pulled a photo out of his left pocket and placed it on the counter for you as you walked over.

It was old and what's more it was also in black and white. In the photo you could see the panorama of a wonderful beach with two subjects present in the photograph: a woman and a child. Both had their backs turned as they looked at the sea or perhaps the sunset. The woman, even if you couldn't see her face, was definitely beautiful with comfortable clothes. The child's features appeared to be five or six years old. You were confused but let the man in front talk to you.

"Today my nephew and I cleaned out the closet," he began, continuing to talk "In one of the junk we found an old photo album with him and his mother" at that news I felt a great weight on your chest.

You knew that Eddie was without his parents and that he had lived most of his life with his Uncle Wayne, but he had never openly told you what had happened to them.

"After we settled everything, he took the photo album and locked himself in the room. I tried to talk to him, but he said he wanted to be alone" You didn't know exactly how to react. You wanted to know more but at the same time you wanted to go console your boyfriend and find out how he is doing. After a moment of reflection and silence you decided to ask questions.

"If I may ask Wayne...what happened to Eddie's parents?" You were unsure whether to ask since the topic seemed sensitive. The man looked away for a moment and then took a cigarette and put it between his lips and motioned for you to go outside. You followed him, you both exited the trailer and Wayne sat down on the steps in front of the front door while you sat down next to him. He took out his lighter, lighting the cigarette, inhaling the smoke and then releasing it.

"Sorry for taking you out, I'd like to talk to you about it in private" He said. You nodded understanding his reasons.

"My nephew never told you about them, did he?" He asked, surely knowing the answer, but it seemed he wanted to be sure. "No, never. He only told me that they died, he never told me how" You replied as you fixed a lock of your hair feeling the cool air hitting your skin making you shiver. Wayne was silent for a moment, continued to smoke as some ash fell to the ground and he sighed. "My nephew. Before living with me, he lived with his mother" The question arises spontaneously "And his father?"

"That asshole brother of mine? He ran away. When he found out that his wife was pregnant he ran. I never heard from him until I was told that he died in a car accident" you were shocked at the news "His mother was desperate, she hadn't accepted being left like that" her eyes looked at the surrounding landscape of the Trailer Park as more smoke released from her lips "She raised him until he was six and then one day we found her dead on the sofa in her house" you were speechless and every part of Wayne's story made you feel bad, you had become a stone statue no longer knowing how to react and comment on those words of his coming from a difficult past, but the story wasn't finished.

"After my brother left, all she did was drink and take care of Eddie when she could. Most of the time I helped her and tried to keep her away from alcohol, but she never wanted to listen to me." Wayne sighed as if he were throwing himself into memories "She then started using narcotics and smoking more often, it had now become her daily routine..."

You wanted to say something but you was immediately interrupted by him "When she died for my nephew was a hard blow at that age. He loved his mother very much...even if every now and then she forgot that he had a son to raise and spent the hours watching television drunk" This time the man looked at you and noticed your sweet soul worried "I can't imagine what it was like for him, losing a mother at such a young age..." you said it in a whisper and Wayne heard you and nodded "It was very difficult for my nephew. His mother was everything for him, even if it doesn't seem like it now...he may seem scary but in reality he has always been a mama's boy" Wayne smiled and his words had the same effect on you.

You had never thought of Eddie as a mama's boy, and it made you feel tender. "Really?" You asked as if you were in disbelief and he chuckled "Really. At the age of five he was already helping her, asking her for help and taking advice from her for anything. However, he never came to me to ask me for something, for my nephew it was obligatory ask mom" You were touched by this side of Eddie that you didn't know. You were really curious to see how he would act if his mother was still here.

"His mother though? How did she react to it?" You asked and Wayne smirked again "Well, yes, she was happy to have this relationship with Eddie, they spent time together, even if it wasn't much, but for my nephew that time was enough for him to be happy" your smile widened hearing those words "But as I told you before, she forgot about him and spent the rest of the days on the sofa. At times like those I took my nephew home with me so he wouldn't see the horrible state of his mother..." Wayne finished the cigarette and threw it on the ground, stomping on it. "Has he ever thought that his mother didn't love him?" Your lips moved by themselves, you didn't know where this one came from but you tried to identify with that little Eddie who was just trying to stay close to his mother even in the most difficult moment, but she was psychologically destroyed and let her uncle get away with it took care of it for him, you would surely have thought something like "Does mom love me?" or “Why does mommy do this?” something similar.

Wayne nodded "Yes...I remember he told me this on an ordinary day while he was having lunch with me. I didn't know how to answer him, I mean, how can you tell your five year old nephew that his mother takes drugs, drinks and that does he do anything but smoke? And what's more, she only loves it because it reminds her of my brother?" That answer left you stunned and Wayne seemed to understand your reaction "Exactly. His mother, as much as she might love him as a son, loved him even more just because he reminded her of my fucking brother... she always said that Eddie looked a lot like him" The cool air moved your hair slightly "And that's it?" He glanced at you "Do I have to be honest? Not at all, it's all her mother. Especially now" You let out a giggle.

"But now I don't know how he must feel years later. Now he knows things that we hid from him as a child and knowing the truth certainly hurts, but he must learn to face it" You looked at your shoes while thinking about what to say "Do you think he has he gotten over his mother's death?" It took Wayne a while to answer "No. I'm sure of this...As I told you, his mother's death was a hard blow for him and he still suffers from it today" his look was sad, and not do you think you've ever seen this sensitive side of Wayne "I tried to do my best to reassure him and be close to him, but my nephew will never be able to get the image of his mother lying on the sofa lifeless out of his head..." his eyes began to become shiny and you instinctively put a hand on the man's shoulder "Hey, you did a great job with him. You may not have managed to heal that wound of his but you healed many others during his life and I'm sure you never let him lack anything." Wayne smiled big and seemed to feel better "Thanks kid" He stood up and you did the same "Can I talk to him?" You asked as you both walked back into the trailer. He nodded "One moment..." He told you as he headed towards his nephew's room.

After a couple of minutes Wayne came back to you motioning that you could go into the room. Before leaving you took the black and white photograph and headed towards Eddie's room. You found him sitting on the bed looking at the photo album and it made your heart ache. As soon as he saw you he whispered a soft "Hey" while you whispered a soft "Hi" and sat down next to him.

"I'm sorry sweetheart, today we were supposed to go to Family Video and catch a movie to watch-"

"Don't worry Eds, it's okay, it'll be for another time" Your tone was sweet, making him understand that you didn't care about seeing a fucking movie now, but rather being close to him.

"Did my uncle tell you everything?" He said as he looked at you. As soon as his eyes met yours you could see his wet cheeks. He had cried, and it broke your heart in two. You hated seeing him like this and just wished you could console him as best you could. You nodded "How are you?" He didn't seem to want to answer you. Your hand began to caress his back as your eye fell on the album. “I miss her..." Was hi answer. You now saw a color photo of a woman, who you understood to be very beautiful, holding little Eddie by the hand. "I can tell,"

"She's very beautiful and looks a lot like you" now you understood Wayne's words. Even if you didn't know what Eddie's father looked like, he sure as hell couldn't have looked like Eddie looked like his mother, they were identical "Uncle Wayne tells me that too, but she always said I looked like my father" you could hear the note of sadness and contempt falling from his lips "And that's why she left..." You saw how he bit his lower lip tightly, surely keeping himself from shedding tears as you moved closer to him "Why do you think that?"

"Why is it like this... I ruined her life. Every day he woke up looking at the spitting image of my father and that's why he despaired on the sofa ruining himself day by day" Damn it hurt to see him like that. You immediately wanted to hug him tightly "But she loved you and you loved her right?" He nodded "Yes, i love her very much but she didn't love me and she had her reasons, I was the cause of her pain and it ended with her death" Eddie hid his face with the palm of his hand. “I ruined his life Y/N… I'm ruining the lives of everyone around me, starting with Uncle Wayne and-”

"Eddie look at me" A note of seriousness came out of your mouth and you didn't let him finish. Not after he started shedding tears. He looked up and looked at you and with your free hand you cupped his cheek, his eyes were bright "You're not ruining anyone's life Eds. Get it through your head-" "How can you say that? I should never have been born in the first place, so she wouldn't have died" He said irritated and immediately more tears hit his cheeks.

"What happened to your mother is not your fault, nor was your birth. Maybe it's true, your mother loved you above all because you reminded her of the man who abandoned her, but that doesn't mean she doesn't has ever truly loved you" You took out the photograph Wayne had shown you. "This photo is of you and her, Eddie. And all these others too" you pointed to the album "You were always her baby, and as hard as life was on you that doesn't mean she stopped loving you as a son"

"I don't know exactly the whole story, but I know that there is no more beautiful bond than that between a son and a mother, and yours was a beautiful bond Eds and it certainly didn't lead her to kill herself" Fuck... he started to sob "You haven't ruined anyone's life honey, not your uncle or even the people around you. If your mother isn't here today it's certainly not because of you, she was suffering too much and wasn't able to move forward" With your thumb you dried the tears Eddie was shedding "But at least she left with the knowledge of having given birth to a wonderful son" you wrapped him in your arms while he let himself go, wetting the cotton of your t-shirt with his his tears. You gave him a light kiss on his scalp as you stroked his hair. "You are the most beautiful thing your uncle could have asked for and the same thing goes for me. You are one of the sweetest and most special people I could have ever asked for. Every day you improve my life so don't even think about something like that" you whispered in his ear as he held you tighter.

Eddie didn't answer but vented his tears some more before trying to compose himself.

You didn't accept that your boyfriend talked about him that way. His horrible past had left him with too many insecurities and doubts after his mother's death that a poor child like him at that age didn't have the strength to face. An image of a little Eddie spending moments with his mother appeared in your mind. The afternoon, the first day of school, the days with his uncle. Your imagination of that sweet, beautiful child was overwhelmed when you then thought about how he and Wayne found his mother dead. Coming home, ready to hug his mother again but she was gone forever. You felt a lump in your throat as you thought about how he must have felt when he tried to wake up his mother. The tears and desperation he felt, something you absolutely couldn't understand but imagining it was definitely heartbreaking. No one would have tolerated it...

Eddie was one of those people who never fully enjoyed his parents. He never knew his father and his mother had passed away dying of an overdose. You begin to think that in all respects you were lucky compared to him. You had a mother and a father, even if they were distant because they no longer felt the love they had before, but they were still your parents. A feeling of guilt invaded your abdomen thinking about how although you had a mother who takes care of you, you didn't have the relationship that Eddie had with his and that perhaps he would like to have again. You were also envious of this, yes. But you felt like somehow it was your fault. You have always had arguments with your parents, especially with your mother and now you realize that not everyone was lucky enough to have a mother who takes care of you.

You really appreciated what your mother did, but you never admitted it and maybe that was the reason why you didn't have a good relationship. You could sense that something in you had changed as you caressed the boy's dark curls, pressing light kisses from his ear to the crook of his neck. His breathing had returned to regularity but he was still sniffling and sobbing slightly. Now you felt somehow good, lighter with less weight on your shoulders. You wanted to be even closer to him than you already were and somehow heal his wound that was still dripping blood if touched with a finger.

"Feeling better big boy?" You used the nickname he loved so much. He just nodded. "If you need anything you know you can tell me right?" He nodded again and gave him another kiss near his ear. It was hot, actually burning hot. You could tell all that heat was from the outburst, the crying and even the embarrassment. He absolutely didn't want you to see him in that state and be able to understand it. Eddie had always been a guy who preferred to do everything alone and without anyone's help, which is reasonable, you had been there too...

But Eddie will also have realized that obstacles are not always faced with one's own strength. Sure, you've always been there for him and definitely Wayne too, but you didn't know how many times Eddie needed his mother. To go to her and ask for help or hug her if he was sick, something Eddie desperately wanted. You felt his grip tighten on you again as he started to sob again "Shh Shh Shh...it's okay Eds" a hiss came out of your sweet lips and after a couple of minutes he broke the hug trying hastily to clean his face “I-I'm really sorry, you shouldn't see me like this.”

"Why do you say this?" He shakes his head "Beacuse...well you don't-" you didn't let him finish "You didn't want me to find out about you and your mother?" He looked at you in surprise as he nodded quickly “Did you by any chance think I would judge you?” He looked at you and was afraid to give you the answer, because even though he loved you to death and had known you for a long time he was afraid that you would actually judge him, he didn't answer "You know I would never judge you, especially on something like that," you placed your hand on his. "Knowing about you and your mother makes me happy, because I know that you loved her very much, and that she loved you despite everything" now your foreheads were touching "I'm sure your mother is very happy to see the mama's boy grow up" you smiled and he did the same and you pressed a kiss to his forehead "Let's do this..." Eddie looked at you with his puppy eyes "How about I'll bring you a glass of water and then, if you want to, can you tell me about your mother?" You asked. You couldn't lie, those photos intrigued you and you wanted to get to know Mrs. Munson a little through those beautiful photographs.

He sniffed and you nodded smiling at you "Now big boy, dry these tears, I'll be right back ok?"

“Okay” He said and you gave him a kiss on the lips which widened his smile.

And so you spent the afternoon with your boyfriend. Sitting leaning against the headboard of the bed while together you browsed through those photos showing off smiles while you were wrapped in each other's arms. Eddie's head rested on your shoulder while yours rested on his head. He looked up when you finally closed the photo album "Thank you sweetheart" He said as you caressed his scalp "Whenever you want big boy, you know that I'm always there for you"

“I wouldn’t know what to do without you” his chocolate brown eyes got lost in yours.

"Well, don't think about it then. Just think that now I'm here with you" He chuckled and you both smiled at each other as your sweet boyfriend fell asleep in your arms.

Even though he was now a grown man, Eddie was still a mama's boy.

#eddie munson fluff #stranger things eddie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson angst #stranger things #mommy issues #mama's boy #eddie munson #hurt/comfort #Spotify #dominic fike #blurb #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson comfort

165 notes · View notes

coupsjin · 8 months

Text

home

╰┈➤ bf!joshua x (student) afab reader

╰┈➤ after a dramatic family dinner with joshua and your parents, he comforts you at home

╰┈➤ warnings: parental issues, angst (not with josh), pet name, lmk if i should add any more!

a/n: the fact that my chest PHSYICALLY hurt when writing this omg. this was so comforting to me bc of recent academic stress. i hope it can be some kind of comfort to you too - don't give up :)

wc: <1k

you sigh. "why can't you just understand!?" you yell, infuriated at your parents.

you had recently enrolled in college, originally studying business administration. after going to class for a few months, you found yourself falling out of love of the fantasy of owning your own business. you wanted to switch majors, taking a gap year to really explore yourself and decide what you want to dedicate your life to. this was the first time brining it up with your parents.

they clearly opposed the idea. you never had the best relationship with your parents, but you still thought it was right to visit once in a while. and this day, joshua was accompanying you.

"although it's good to know yourself better... this is still not right." your father sternly says, staring into your burning eyes.

"when have you ever cared about my future, dad?! really, tell me when. because the last time i remember, you were trying your absolute best to get me out of the house." you were crying now, streams of hot anger burning down your cheeks.

joshua tightly grips your hand, rubbing your palm with his thumb.

"don't cry, baby. you just do what you want, okay?" he whispers, catching the attention of your mother.

"do what she wants?! i can tolerate you, y/n, but not your moron of a boyfriend who only knows how to sing." your mother says while glaring at joshua, who stares at her back with calm but heartbroken eyes.

that was when she crossed the line. she could say all she wanted about you, saying how you were a failure and you can't commit yourself to something - but not joshua. he was the one thing keeping you going, comforting you on nights where you just wanted to give up everything. crying on his shoulder while him having his hand rub your tired back was your only beam of support. you had lost the support of your friends, and now your family.

"what the HELL is your problem, mom?!" you screamed, echoing in the large dining room. you put down your fork, "your only daughter isn't happy. doesn't that mean anything to you? i work day and night for a degree i don't even want. i work sleepless nights for professors i don't even l-"

"you are not my daughter anymore."

you stare at your mother, a tear dropping out of your eye. you felt as though a knife was stabbed through your chest, six words you never would've thought to hear.

joshua was now concerned. you were now frantically sobbing, trying to take in precious air between your long sobs.

"come on, we're going home." he grabs your arm, leading your shaking body off your chair. "thank you for the dinner."

no matter how mad he was at your parents, he at least needed to be polite. he held your shaking shoulders, leading you out of the house and into his car. he starts driving fast, his heart physically hurting every sob he heard leave your mouth.

"baby... are you ready to talk about it?" he asked after your sobs had died down into a cry.

"n.. no" you say, the first syllable getting separated by a hiccup. "i just want... to go home."

"okay honey, take your time. let's talk about it while i'm holding you at home, okay?" he glances at you often, wanting to kiss your swollen red eyes. his hands don't leave you, softly squeezing your thighs or holding your still-shaking hands.

when you arrive home, you immediately collapse on the floor. face buried in your tear stained hands, your muffled sobs surprised shua who is still outside at the car. he rushes to you, leaving his car door open. he rushes to your side, closing the door behind him and kneeling in front of you. he moves you to the wall so you can have something to lean on. he takes your shaking hands in his, tearing up.

"i'm here now, shh" a tear rolls down his face, frustrated that this is happening to you, his entire world. he pulls himself together, leading you through deep breaths.

"breath in," he takes a deep breath, and you copy him to the best of your abilities. you're still shaking, but looking into his eyes while breathing made you feel a little better.

"i'm sorry for dragging you in like this, i never thought it would get this bad i-"

"don't. nothing is your fault. you hear me?"

you feel another wave of tears approaching. but instead of burying your face in your hands, you bury your body into his. he catches you, kissing the top of your head while reassuring you until your shakes stopped. after a while you pull away:

"are you a little better now?" he asks, still looking at you with concerned eyes.

"yes," you reply, your voice still a little shaky. "thank you, shua."

he carries you to his bedroom, spending the rest of the night talking and watching your favourite movie.

#seventeen #seventeen x reader #svt #svt fanfic #svt imagines #svt x reader #hong jisoo #svt joshua #joshua hong #seventeen joshua #joshua x reader #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagine #joshua fluff #joshua imagines #joshua scenarios #joshua comfort

211 notes · View notes

iambutmortal · 4 months

Text

This Is the Part You Get Left Behind

Summary: When Elain finds out her boyfriend is cheating on her, she decides sex with his roommate is the best way to get revenge.

Pairing: Elucien

Word Count: 2.5k

Authors Note: @vulpes-fennec Merry Christmas! I'm not your original Secret Santa, but I wanted to make sure you still got something for Christmas. Thank you for being such a great friend this year, I loved getting to know you better. You mentioned wanting a college AU, so I hope this fits the bill. Also, the biggest of all thanks to the amazing talented stunning @velidewrites for making the moodboard, we don't deserve your talents. @acotargiftexchange

Read on AO3

Elain swallowed down her mounting anxiety and pasted on a smile, the one she spent hours in the mirror perfecting. The smile Graysen said had made him notice her, when her picture had been posted on her sorority’s Instagram.

As she crept down the hall, she tugged on the hem of her jacket, checking once again that it was covering her utter lack of clothing. She felt stupid, walking into the men's dorm at Prythian University in nothing but lingerie and a trench coat, like someone out of a cheap porno, but she wanted to do something nice for Graysen on their three month anniversary.

They were supposed to go to dinner, the nice one people took their parents to for parents weekend, but Graysen had canceled at the last minute, citing an investment club meeting. Which Elain was fine with, especially since Graysen reminded her constantly how important meeting attendance was.

His future in investment banking depended on a college club, apparently.

So Elain had swallowed down her disappointment and begged her older sister Nesta to buy a bottle of champagne, slid on the set of lacy white underwear she’d bought specifically for tonight, put only her jacket on top, and set out to surprise him.

If she couldn’t get dinner out of their anniversary, the least she could get was good sex.

Or mediocre sex, Graysen was about as good as one could expect out of a twenty year old college student. Which meant Elain having to sneak into the bathroom to finish herself off more often than not.

Elain squared her shoulders when she reached Graysen’s door, and checked her phone. Six thirty, plenty of time for Graysen to get back from his meeting.

This was the boldest she’d ever been in their relationship, showing up unannounced, but Graysen always complained she was too timid. Except for the few times she’d tried to take control during sex and he’d gotten upset, complaining that she didn’t do it right when she got on top.

Elain triple checked to make sure no one was coming before unbuttoning her jacket, leaving her utterly exposed in the hallway. She hoisted the champagne bottle up, an offering, and knocked.

It felt like an eternity ticked by as she waited for Graysen, standing there shivering in the cool air of the hallway. They probably kept the dorms cold to deter stupid girls from showing up outside of their boyfriends doors wearing nothing but a thong and bra.

Elain was ready to text Graysen and ask where on earth he was and the door opened.

Revealing a very shirtless, very confused looking Lucien Vanserra.

On an abstract level, Elain knew that Graysen had a roommate, heard him complain about Lucien enough times. She also knew, hypothetically, who Lucien Vanserra was. Everyone on campus did, he was captain of the rowing team, the one sport Prythian could claim any success in.

None of that had prepared her to actually see him. The idea that he could be home had never even crossed her mind. The few times she’d previously been over were when Lucien was out, traveling for some away regatta.

“Elain?” Lucien asked, clearly very confused by her lack of proper attire.

The fact that he knew her name made it worse, and Elain prayed fervently for a crack to open up in the ugly gray carpet and swallow her up.

“Is Graysen here?” she squeaked out.

“No,” Lucien said, checking behind him as if his roommate would magically appear somewhere in the twelve by twenty foot room and save them both. “He left a while ago, I think for a date?”

Elain’s brow furrowed. “He canceled our date.”

If possible, Lucien looked even more embarrassed than Elain felt. “I, uh, I think he was going with Ianthe? She’s in our calculus class.”

“But it’s our three month anniversary,” Elain said stupidly. It’s the only thing she could think of at that moment.

Lucien looked away from the ceiling he’d been dutifully staring at, taking in the lacy underwear, the bottle of thirty dollar champagne, and the tears that had started welling in Elain’s eyes, making her vision watery.

“Do you want to come in?” he asked, stepping aside to clear the doorway.

Elain figured her options were cry in front of Lucien or cry in front of the entire dorm, and followed Lucien inside. At least this way only one person would have to see her breakdown.

While Lucien threw on a white t-shirt, covering the smooth expanse of brown skin and muscles of his chest, Elain set the champagne down on his desk with a heavy thud, and plopped down on his desk chair.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, silent except for her occasional sniffles.

Lucien looked like he very much wanted to be anywhere else as he handed her one of his shirts to put on. Prythian U Rowing was emblazoned on the front, along with the picture of an oar. Elain took it gratefully, slipping it on.

“Graysen’s a dick,” Lucien said, reaching over Elain to grab a box from the wall shelves. “An absolute tool.”

“Then why are you his roommate?” Elain asked, wiping her eyes with the edge of Lucien’s shirt.

“His dad is best friends with my stepdad. Makes him hard to avoid.” Lucien slid a coffee mug under his keurig, one of the nice ones Elain was too poor to even hope to buy. “Beron offered to pay my tuition if I lived with him, something about building business connections. And damn me if I don’t regret it every day.”

He pulled the mug out and offered it to Elain. “Hot chocolate?”

Elain took it gratefully.

“My mom usually makes it with real chocolate on milk,” Lucien said sheepishly. “But I’m a little limited on kitchen gadgets.”

“It’s perfect,” Elain said. Her parents had never had time, or desire, to make anything homemade, so Swiss Miss bought her immeasurable amounts of comfort. She also, privately, thought it tasted better.

“Do you want me to see if I can call Graysen,” Lucien asked, pulling out his phone. “Ask what’s up.”

“I think it’s pretty clear what’s up,” Elain muttered. He thought she was an idiot who wouldn’t notice him two timing her. Which he was partially right about, since he’d been getting away with it for this long.

Uncharacteristic anger filled her, and Elain wondered if this was what Nesta felt like all the time. If this was the energy that led to Nesta chaining herself to Prythian’s oldest library her sophomore year when the school wanted to tear it down to build a new parking garage.

“I hate him,” Elain yelled. “I hate him so fucking much.”

“Trust me, the feeling’s mutual,” Lucien said, gently taking the hot chocolate mug out of her hands. Elain hadn’t realized how hard she’d been squeezing it. “And he snores.”

Despite herself, Elain chuckled. “He couldn’t even figure out how to make me come,” she admitted. “I don’t think he ever found my clit.”

Lucien frowned, suddenly serious. “Now that won’t do. Imagine having Elain Archeron in your bed and not worshiping her.”

Elain’s face flushed hot, noticing the almost hungry way Lucien was looking at her. He really was handsome, with a strong jawline and chiseled brow. Probably why the university put him on all the athletic promotions.

“I didn’t think you knew who I was,” Elain admitted. After all, why would he. She was studying bio, he spent all his time in the business school.

Lucien’s russet eyes met hers. “You’re a very hard person to miss, Elain.”

Elain averted her gaze first, backing down. “I should go.”

“You could,” Lucien said, leaning against his bed. “But I know what would make Graysen pissed.”

“What,” Elain said, that anger roaring back to life.

“We could fuck on his bed,” Lucien said.

“We could not,” Elain gasped. Although the idea was tempting. She’d seen Lucien shirtless now, and the photos of him in his skintight spandex uni plastered across campus did little to hide how well endowed he was.

Lucien cocked his head. “Why not? Who’s going to stop us, Graysen’s still out on his date.”

“It would be cheating,” Elain protested weakly.

“Cheating on the three month relationship he never cared about?” Lucien taunted, one brow raised. Elain should have been offended, should have stormed out, but she stayed in his chair, staring up at him.

“What would my sisters think?”

“I highly doubt Feyre, who strung our quarterback’s underwear from the flagpole when she found out Tamlin tried to steal her car keys so she couldn’t drive home for thanksgiving, is going to judge you.”

Elain bit her cheek, rising to her feet. “What’s college for if not making dumb decisions.”

Lucien watched her like she was prey, and he was the hunter, as she slid past him and hopped up on Graysen’s navy blue comforter.

It was always navy blue. Although Elain couldn’t help but notice Lucien had rather nice maroon sheets on his side of the room.

Any thoughts Elain had about interior decorating quickly disappeared as Lucien all but punched, pressing his lips against hers. His hips fell between the cradle of her thighs, and Elain arched back into him. She reveled at the sensation. He was already so much more than Graysen as he claimed her lips.

One of Lucien’s hands reached down to wrap around her hip, skimming under his shirt.

“I like seeing you in my clothes,” Lucien said, before gripping the hem of the blue fabric and yanking it off.

“And you like seeing me out of it more?” Elain teased.

“Just want Graysen to know where we were,” Lucien said. He kissed his way down Elain’s jaw, her neck, her chest, paying special attention to her breasts, still covered in lace.

He sucked on her nipple through the fabric, making it stand hard.

“Lucien,” Elain hissed. Her core was aching, and she didn’t know if she wanted him to move his head lower, or to take his pants off.

He made her decision for her, replacing his lips with his fingers as he lowered his head between her thighs.

“May I?” he asked, the picture of politeness. As if they weren’t currently doing the filthiest thing of Elain’s life.

Elain lifted her hips in silent permission, letting Lucien drag the slip of underwear down her legs. He deliberately placed them on Graysen’s pillow with a wink that had Elain clenching her legs together. Lucien wrapped his hands around her thighs, prying them open.

“None of that,” Lucien said. “Not when I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.”

“You have?”

“Since we shared that bio class freshman year.”

Elain had a vague memory of Lucien, the flash of red that always slid into the back row at the last minute, late from practice. Although she’d been half asleep at nine am. Maybe he had missed something.

“Oh,” Elain said. Which quickly became a moan as Lucien bent down and licked a stripe through her folds.

“You taste…” Lucien said, trailing off and licking her again.

“Lucien,” Elain whined, fishting her hands in Graysen’s sheets. She couldn’t remember the last time Graysen had gone down on her. He’d complained it wasn’t fun for him, and left it at that.

Lucien, on the other hand, ate pussy like it was his job. His hand was still on her breast, rolling her nipple in time with his tongue, sending waves of pleasure rolling through her body.

“Faster,” Elain demanded, sliding her fingers through Lucien’s long red hair and pulling him closer.

Lucien groaned as her nails scraped his scalp, following her lead. “Tell me what you need.”

Elain looked down at him wide eyed. Lucien gave her a soft smile of encouragement.

“Use your fingers,” Elain ordered. Lucien’s smile became a smirk as he slid his pointer into her cunt, and Elain clenched around it.

“Another.”

He added his middle, punctuated by a flick of her clit with his thumb. Dragged his fingers in and out.

“Come for me,” Lucien said, his low voice rumbling along her body.

“Fuck,” Elain breathed, as pleasure licked down her spine, sending her over the edge.

Lucien lifted himself over her, held up by powerful thighs earned from hours of practice, and kissed her sloppily. Elain could taste herself on his tongue. She reached down for his shirt, ready to pull it off.

The sound of the door opening made her freeze.

“What the fuck,” yelled Graysen.

Lucien scrambled off her, and Elain reached behind her searching for her discarded shirt.

“In my bed,” Graysen continued, “you’re fucking in my bed.” He was still standing in the doorway, Ianthe peering over his shoulder.

“Go screw yourself Graysen,” Lucien said, standing in front of Elain to block her from sight while she quickly covered herself.

“I, I,” Graysen spluttered. His eyes narrowed. “I’ll tell Beron what you did. I’m sure you stepfather will love this.”

“Beron would probably pat me on the back. And,” Elain could hear the sly grin in Lucien’s voice, “I’ll tell your father you got rejected from investment club.”

Graysen’s face turned a shade of red Elain wasn’t sure was possible in nature, and she snorted.

Lucien glanced behind him, checking that she was ready, and held out his hand. She took it, and he pulled her off the bed and out of the room. Graysen quickly backed away to give them space.

“Anything else to add?” Elain asked innocently.

Graysen just stared.

“Thought so,” Lucien said, smugly, leading Elain down the hallway.

They collapsed on one of the lounge couches as soon as they were out of sight, and Elain couldn’t stop the laughter from bubbling out of her.

“Did you see his face?” she gasped.

“Priceless. Absolutely priceless. God I can’t wait to rub this in his face at the office Christmas party.”

Elain sobered, remembering that Lucien had so much more to lose than her. “I’m sorry if I ruined your roommate relationship.”

“Nah,” Lucien said, waving his hand. “I’ve wanted to move off campus for ages, ever since the school upped my athletic scholarship and I didn’t need my stepdad to keep paying tuition. Jurian’s been begging me to move in with him.”

“Good,” Elain said. She bit her lip. “So that’s it then, see you around?”

Hurt flashed across Lucien’s face. “So that’s it then, just going to love me and leave me?” he asked with forced lightness.

“Unless you maybe wanted to get coffee tomorrow?”

Lucien brightened. “I have mandatory athletic study hour until two, but we could go after that?”

“Meet you at the library then,” Elain said, standing up.

“Until then.” Lucien gave her a lovesick grin. One Elain couldn’t help but meet.

The next day, Lucien was waiting outside the library, a bouquet of white flowers in hand. White that matched the pair of panties she’d left in his room. “To remind you of last night,” he said with a wink.

#elucien #acotar #elucien fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elain x lucien

104 notes · View notes

likedovesinthewindd · 1 year

Text

2:54 AM

tasm!peter parker x fem!reader

summary: you want to know why peter's been distant lately.

warning: injuries, mentions of typical spiderman violence yk, my inability to write a crime accurately (don't look into it too much), reader's a little oblivious to the obvious.

wc: ± 3000

a/n: i hate this endingg!!!! but i need this out of my drafts. let's also pretend that this trope is so original and not overused at all lmao. requests open:)

The incessant ticking of the clock above your head was beginning to piss you off.

The small restaurant was fairly busy, no one would've even be able to hear it, but you'd chosen the table next to the window–the one with the clock hanging on the wall adjacent to the big glass pane. You'd chosen this table because it was Peter's favorite. He loved watching the bustling city outside as the two of you enjoyed your meals.

You'd think that after living in the city as long as he has, that the scenery would have bore him by now, but he absolutely loved people watching. He could spend hours sitting outside on the rooftop or by the big window in your bedroom, just staring down at the people and cars going about their day or night. He could find entertainment in some of the most mundane activities, and that was one of the many things you adored about your boyfriend.

Right now, however, it was hard to think of how you much you adored him, but rather how mad you were at him. Tonight was your and Peter's six month anniversary, and although you weren't one to celebrate every little milestone, Peter had insisted that you go out for the night. Ironic, since he's not even here right now you thought.

You looked down at your wristwatch, almost in a way to spite the big one that hung right above you, and checked the time. It was a forty-eight minutes past eight. You'd been sitting here for almost 50 minutes waiting for Peter to show up.

You checked your phone, praying he had left a message saying that he was on his way, that he was just running late, but the empty lockscreen staring back at you only made a knot form deep in your belly.

Wait till nine, your mind tried convincing you. He's probably just really caught up at work. So you waited impatiently, your heeled foot nearly tapping a hole into the restaurant floor. After a few more minutes, your waitress approached your table. This was her second time at your table; she had come around first at around twenty minutes past eight, and you had kindly asked her to give you some more time, because you were waiting for someone.

You could see the pity on her face, her probably thinking you got stood up. But you weren't getting stood up, because Peter was just a bit late, and in a few minutes he'd walk through the door and the two of you'd enjoy a wonderful dinner. At least, that's what you were trying to convince yourself.

"Are you ready to order ma'am?" the waitress asked politely. You shook your head, putting on your most convincing smile. "No not yet, I'm waiting for my boyfriend, he'll be here any minute," you said. The pity on her face only seemed to increase. She gave you a weak smile and a nod, and went on her way to help another table.

You glanced up at the small TV that was displayed against the wall on the other side of the small restaurant. It was replaying an old football game from the previous week, before being interrupted by a local news channel's lives broadcast. The TV was muted, but you could see the headline at the bottom of the screen in big bold letters as the reporter stood gesturing at the scene behind her:

SPIDER-MAN TO THE RESCUE ONCE AGAIN

The fact that the city quite literally had it's own superhero always amazed you. Here this random guy was, jumping around in a blue and red suit, fighting bad guys and catching criminals, basically doing the cops' jobs and for free.

You've never had any personal encounters with the elusive hero, but you've heard enough stories from people about him, about how charming and slightly cocky he was and how they so desperately wanted to know who hid beneath the mask. You'd be lying if you said you weren't a bit curious to know too.

On the screen you could see Spider-Man lowering people from the second floor of some building by his webs. After lowering everyone to safety, he dissappeared back inside the building. It seemed to be some kind of hostage situation, people scurrying around confusedly and police cars surrounding the building.

You were so enthralled by the scene playing out on the screen that you hadn't noticed how much time had passed. When you looked at the little clock being displayed in the corner of the TV, your heart sank once again.

21:05

It was five minutes past nine, and no Peter in sight. You could feel your cheeks burning up from anger. A whole hour. Peter made you wait a whole hour, and it didn't look like he was gonna come any time soon. The anger was quickly replaced by sadness, the tears of frustration already fighting to fall from your eyes. You made your way over to the counter of the restaurant, apologizing for wasting their time and tipping your waitress for her effort, before making your way to the door.

It felt like everyone's eyes were on you. They could all probably tell you've been stood up too. There was no other reason for a girl to be walking out of a restaurant after ordering nothing for an hour with her head down and tail between her legs like a kicked dog.

The air outside was refreshing. You took a deep breath, trying to calm down your racing heart and somehow will the tears away. It was no use; after months of forced stoicism and pretending like Peter's recent negligence didn't hurt, the dam finally broke. You decided to take the walk to your apartment rather than hailing a cab, reasoning that the cool city air would do you good.

On your walk, the sobs continued to leave your mouth quietly. You missed your boyfriend, you missed being able to spend time with him and just be around him. The two of you worked at different times and lived on different sides of the city, so it was already hard to find a time when both of you were free.

The two of you hadn't been together for too long, but it truly felt like Peter was the one for you. When you first made things official you couldn't stay away from each other for too long. You always went on little dates and would meet up whenever the both of you were free, but recently your boyfriend's been very distant and you've been seeing less and less of him. Tonight had been the third date where he'd stood you up, and you couldn't help but think the worst.

What if he was seeing someone else? What if he didn't enjoy being with me anymore and this was his way of asking to break up?

The thoughts left your mind as soon as they were conjured up in your brain. Peter would never do anything like that to you. Not your Peter. He was the sweetest guy you had ever been with and there wasn't a day he wasn't telling you how lucky he was to be with you, or how pretty he thought you were and how much he loved you.

Even on the days the two of you weren't together (which were almost always lately), he'd still send you messages telling you how much he missed you, or would send flowers to your apartment when he knew you were feeling down and he couldn't be there.

Peter was a sweetheart, but you still couldn't help but wonder why he'd been so distant lately. You pulled your phone from your purse, quickly checking to see if he had left a message yet, but still nothing. You shoved your phone back into your purse angrily and started walking faster. All you needed right now was a hot shower and your bed.

As you entered your apartment you hastily toed off your shoes at the door and threw your purse on the nearest table. After a long, piping hot shower and a bowl of leftovers (you still being hungry due to your failed dinner plans), you decided to head to bed, where you cried some more before falling asleep.

A loud banging woke you up in the middle of the night. You checked the alarm clock on your nightstand, and when it read 2:54 AM, you turned yourself back around and ignored whoever chose to bother you at this ungodly hour.

Not even a minute passed before the knocking returned, this time followed by a shout of your name, not loud enough to wake up the whole floor but loud enough for you to hear. When you recognized Peter's voice, you groaned, kicking the covers from yourself begrudgingly before dragging yourself to the door.

You pulled it open aggressively, and when you were met with Peter's silhouette slouching against the doorframe, his head hanging low, all the angry words you had for him sat stuck in your throat. He looked up at you and his big brown eyes found yours in the dark of the hallway. He gave you a weak smile and you had to fight everything inside you to not smile back, reminding yourself why you were mad at him.

"Hi, sweetheart," he whispered. All the anger suddenly returned, and you found yourself slamming the door in his face, but before it could fully close, he blocked it with his foot and invited himself in. When he got out of the dark hallways and inside your apartment, you noticed the bouquet of flowers he held tightly in his hand. They looked like they had been through a lot, and the dress shirt he was wearing (most likely for your date) was untucked and heavily wrinkled.

"I don't want to talk to you," you said, turning your entire body away from him and crossing your arms like an arrogant child, trying to get him to leave, but he was stubborn, putting the flowers on the nearest table, gripping your arms and turning you to face him again. You refused to make eye contact, rather looking down at his pair of dirty sneakers. "I know, but let me explain myself please—"

"And say what?!" you snapped. You hadn't realized how loud you were until you saw Peter flinch slightly, his grip on you still not loosening. "What are you gonna say Peter? You got caught up at work? You had an 'emergency'? You—" when you finally looked him in the face, you got a good look at him in the warm light of your living room/kitchen.

He had a lot of bruising around his face, a rapidly darkening black eye and a busted lip. You looked down at the arms still holding onto you, and you could see similar marks lining his arms. Most of them looked very fresh.

This was another part of Peter that added to up sleepless nights, worrying yourself sick over your boyfriend. He always seemed to have some sort of bruise whenever you'd meet up. Sometimes it was something small like a cut across his eyebrow or a nasty gash on his cheek, and other times it was way more major, like the one time he showed up to a coffee date with a broken arm after being just fine three days prior.

The best part was how fast he'd heal too, no less than a weak and he'd look perfectly fine. It didn't make you feel any better though, and you'd still worry about where he was getting beat up like this.

You tried asking him about it, multiple times, but every time he would just cover it up with a lame joke or just completely try to change the subject. You stopped asking after a while, but that didn't mean you weren't concerned about his safety and curious about what was causing all of these injuries.

"Peter what happened to you? Your face? Are you—" you wanted to reach out and touch his face, but he stopped you with a hand that quickly caught your wrist. "I'm okay," he said, smiling sweetly and giving your wrist a quick kiss, before letting go of your hand. "No you're not. C'mon lemme clean you up," you said grabbing his hand and dragging him to the bathroom, almost completely forgetting about the argument.

The patter of your socked feet filled the quiet of the apartment as you led Peter to the bathroom. You sat him down on the toilet seat and quietly moved around the almost-too-small bathroom, opening up the medicine cabinet above the sink to retrieve the first aid kit. You started to clean the small cuts and gashes on his face.

His hands hesitated before making their way to your waist, holding onto your hips. Every time one of the cuts would sting, his grip would tighten slightly. The silence stretched on while you continued to patch him up, and after a while you decided to speak up.

"Look, Peter, I understand if you don't wanna, y'know be with me anymore, but even if we were to break up I'd still be concerned about you. I don't like seeing you get hurt and i can't help if—"

"Woah, hey what?" Peter interrupted your rambling, "I don't want to break up." "Then why do you keep canceling our plans, how come I never see you anymore?" you asked, pausing the work on his face. He winced slighty when he noticed your anger had returned.

"I've just...I've been busy, sweetheart," he said softly. "I've been busy too Peter, but I make time, because I wanna see you, and because I miss you like crazy. Do you even miss like you say you do? Because it surely doesn't show."

"Of course I do!" Peter said, the grip he had on you unconsciously tightening again. "Then why don't you make time?!" you said, the tears of frustration quickly returning to your eyes, "and what about all these bruises, huh? Every time I see you you're hurt somehow and I don't like that, 'cause I don't like seeing you hurt, Peter." By now a few tears had already unwillingly fallen, and you tried to swiftly wipe them away with the sleeve of your sweater.

It both warmed and broke Peter's heart to know that you were so worried about him. He really did miss spending time with you; you were his best friend and he loved being around you. He didn't want you knowing about him being Spider-Man, because he didn't want to put you in any danger. He wanted to keep you as far away from that part of his life as possible, you meant too much to him and he wouldn't forgive himself if anything happened to you.

He wanted to tell you on many occasions, he'd come close too many times to count, but he'd stop himself each time.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, not knowing what else to say. "Don't apologize, just talk to me, please," you said brushing your fingers through his soft brown hair. The action calmed both you and him down, and he closed his eyes for a moment, appreciating your touch. It was then when he realized how much he missed your touch, how much he missed you, and being close to you. He felt like he hadn't talked to you, or really even seen you in forever.

Peter didn't know what to say, he wanted to be honest with you, wanted to tell you so bad, but he wanted to protect you above all else. The silence between the two of you stretched on until you sighed, removing your hands from him completely and sighing.

He started panicking, he knew what this meant. You were going to break up with him, tell him to get out and never talk to him again, and even the thought alone made his heart sink down to his feet. He braced himself for the inevitable, retracting his hands from your waist and getting ready to get up and leave.

"It's really late, would you like to stay the night?"

He was definitely not expecting you to say that, and the look on his face certainly told you that. "Are you sure?" he asked, not knowing what else to say. "I don't want to taking the train at this time. You can take a shower while I reheat some leftovers for you," you replied dryly, making your way out the bathroom and to the kitchen.

Peter took your advice, still not sure why you weren't screaming at him to get out of your apartment. After a brief shower, he found some of the clothes you had borrowed from him folded neatly on the toilet seat. He put them on and made his way over to the kitchen. After a much appreciated meal the two of you made your way over to your bedroom.

He found himself immediately moving towards the small plush chair that stood by the big window, lowering himself into it and staring down at the city. You stood next to him quietly, placing your hand on his head and running your fingers through the strands once again.

"I promise I'll tell you one day," Peter whispered, turning his head to look up at you. "I know," you replied, "until then, I'll just patch you up when needed."

You wanted so badly to understand what was going on with Peter, but you knew that there was no getting through to him now, because he was stubborn as hell. So you'd take what you could get for now. And in return he'd try and be there more for you, because he missed you, and the selfish part of him loved you too much to let you go, even if that were the right thing to do.

"How about you move in with me?"

#tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter parker fic #tasm!peter x y/n #the amazing spider man #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x reader #likedovesinthewindd

266 notes · View notes

jen-with-a-pen · 5 months

Text

ALL TIED UP - THREE

Previous ⊹ Series

summary: Steve already feels like a fish out of water at the gym. An encounter with a girl and Bucky leaves him gasping for air and grasping for what the hell is going on behind Bucky's frat boy facade. At least he gets some sweet relief, some coffee, and some courage, when he see his favorite barista.

pairings: Art Student!Frat Brother!Steve Rogers x Film Student!Sorority Sister!Reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: implied misogyny (Bucky and Sam really are Frat Bros™), gym gains + weight mention, Steve's just trying his best, fake crying, possessiveness + demanding obedience, Steve should try to listen to his gut more, successful attempts at flirting

a/n: i'm pleased to be able to finally introduce our reader from steve's pov! i can't wait until i can share her side of the story with you all ♥ enjoy! also a just-in-case thank you to those who have been patient with my posting. i know my masterlist currently has a schedule, but after an abrupt work trip and conference following, i got thrown off by a week. shoulda known better 😅

The most specialest of special thanks to two of my loves @vonalyn and @lunarbuck for helping me flesh out this idea and enable me in my destruction ♥ i owe you both a beefy alpha soon

gif by @/paliaphrodite | additional graphics + dividers by me ♥

my ao3 | my masterlist | all tied up masterlist Read this fic HERE on ao3! ♥Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated as always♥

Last Tuesday.

Sweat drips down Steve’s neck as he finishes out his bench presses. Endorphins and dopamine ooze into his bloodstream as his face flushes, driving him to push one more time to beat his personal record. His heart races from excitement as his arms extend, biceps bulging under the 210-pound barbell, pushing it up for the final rep of his set. At last, he reracks the weights and a proud smile spreads easily across his lips.

Going from 175 lbs to 225 lbs in the span of only a month was the last thing Steve expected upon coming to Richards. He wasn’t scrawny by any means before– in fact, as his mother consistently had to remind him, puberty had been exceptionally kind to him, going from five-foot-eight to a cool six-foot-two in just the last two years of high school– but, thanks to the daily regimens Bucky and Sam personalized for each of the brothers, Steve began to see real gains. Real changes. For the better, even he would admit. His jaw became sharper. His chest grew broader. His arms were now just a tad too tight for his own t-shirts.

“‘s all thanks to those prime Sigma genes!” Sam once told Steve while spotting him during one of the first sessions of the semester. Steve couldn’t tell if he was joking about their greek letters or not, so he shook the comment off and chalked it up to ‘Sam being Sam.’ Him and Bucky constantly preached the superiority of ‘Sigma Males,’ regardless if anyone was listening.

Steve never believed in that bullshit. His Ma would keel over if he ever even thought about that kind of concept.

Steve sits up, grabbing his sweat rag and water bottle next to the bench. Taking a long drink, his mind flips through through the schedule for the day: Drawing, then Astronomy and Art History back to back; a mandatory check in with his advisor; lunch or dinner somewhere in between; finally, some sports event-party-thing that Bucky and Sam were adamant the entire house hosts. On a Tuesday.

Steve huffs, rising from the bench and mopping the beads of hot sweat trailing down his temples. He needs to shower quickly in order to make it to class on time, especially if he wants to stop for coffee in the quad.

Not that the coffee is worth the detour on the way to class, in all honesty, but the comforting sight of the usual barista behind the counter is.

Since his first day on campus, something about her has drawn him to the cafe as often as possible. Eventually, they began small talk– well, she started the small talk. Gradually, they started chatting about more than just the weather. Then it became ‘what’d you get on the calc test?’ or ‘hey are you going to the football game?’. Her voice, her laugh, her quiet humming as she prepares orders regularly echoes in Steve’s mind. Her soft, kind eyes and warm smile is burned so deeply into his memory that he’s started drawing her. He doodles in the corner of his notes, sketches on napkins and newspapers, paints watercolor daydreams covering certain pages of his sketchbooks. All of them are her.

He can’t recall for the life of him how it came to be this way. It all happened so suddenly, so gradually.

Over the last few weeks, Steve found himself walking just a touch faster, leaving just a couple minutes earlier, to make sure he can stop by and see her before class. To him, she’s a breath of fresh air, a break from the cloud of testosterone and stress the frat house always keeps him in.

No matter what, she always makes his day just a little bit brighter.

She knows his order before he even makes it to the counter. She knows which classes to ask him about and on what days. She knows writing his name with a smiley face on his cup will make him tip just a little extra, just because she drew it.

She knows him.

Yet, he can’t exactly say the same about her.

Steve bites his lip, so incredibly caught up in thoughts of his coffee shop crush, he doesn’t realize where he’s walking until he runs smack into another body. Hard.

“Oof–Hey!”

The girl in front of him falls to the floor, dropping her phone, rag, and water bottle. Her headphones slip off her head, landing amongst the scattered remains of what she’d been holding.

“What the fuck–!”

“Oh, shit! I-I’m so sorry, lemme–” Steve bends down, offering her a free hand and genuine concern on his face. The girl’s eyes widen and she freezes when she looks up at him. The next thing Steve knows, she’s opening her mouth and getting ready to scream. Panic surges through him and he, too, becomes frozen in place, unsure of what else to do when there’s a soon-to-be-screaming girl in the middle of a crowded gym of frat bros.

Before her scream spills out of her throat, Steve hears a familiar voice behind him.

“Shay? What the hell happened?” Bucky appears, jogging from a machine around the corner. The moment he sees Steve bent over her– Shay, apparently– there’s a darkness that falls over his face as he approaches them.

“He–he–!” Shay hiccups from the ground, bottom lip stuck out in a pout and trembling ever so slightly. Her jacket hangs off her shoulder, half-zipped and barely covering her tanned and toned stomach, and her neat, platinum blonde hair remains in tidy braids plaited down to her shoulders. It’s as if she merely tripped on a rogue water bottle or an untied shoelace. Steve’s throat tightens.

“Bucky, I-I bumped into her, it was an accident, I was just helpin’ her up, I–”

Bucky stops. His shoulders are heaving, chest puffed out, and hands balled into tight fists at his sides. His dark expression makes him look terrifying. Steve’s never seen him like this before.

Steve swears he hears Bucky growl.

It takes a moment, but upon finally realizing it’s only Steve, Bucky backs down and calms almost instantly. His expression neutralizes into his usual suave smirk as he runs a hand through his cropped hair.

“Shay,” Bucky turns his focus to the girl still splayed on the floor. There’s a commanding undertone in his voice, something more dominant, more forceful, than Steve’s ever heard.

“B-but h-he,” Shay babbles on, “he pushed me!” Her cheeks are dry, eyes white without bloodshot or fresh tears. Her lip stays pouting, mimicking a stubborn toddler as she blubbers to Bucky.

“No, he didn’t. He didn’t do anything other than bump into you.” Bucky takes a step forward. “Right, Stevie?” His hand clamps onto Steve’s shoulder. His grip digs deep, tighter than usual. Steve nods quickly.

“Y-yeah, I, uh, wasn’t lookin’ where I was goin’ and I-I just didn’t, uh, see her.”

Bucky gives him a once over, his vice-like grip weighing on Steve like a two-ton barbell. He slowly nods to himself and takes his eyes off Steve, turning to Shay. Steve holds his gaze on Bucky, however, studying him for a second more. He notices the extremely subtle way Bucky is almost looking down on her. Something about Bucky’s eyes, the shift in his jaw, sends a phantom chill up Steve’s spine.

“C’mon, Shay. Get up.”

“But! But, Bucky! He–!”

“You heard me. Get. Up.”

Shay sucks her lip back in and reluctantly obeys as she collects her things and stands. Even with his eyes closed, Steve realizes he wouldn’t have been able to notice Shay’s petite, five-foot-something frame standing in front of him. She barely came up to the middle of his chest. How had he not seen her in his way?

“Now,” Bucky continues, “apologize to Steve.”

Shay scoffs, breaking her show of obedience. She gives Steve a not-so-subtle once-over. Her nose ring wrinkles in the crevice of her nostril as her lips curl into a snarl. She crosses her arms, cocking a hip and copping an attitude.

“Why should I–”

Bucky abruptly lets go of Steve’s shoulder and moves swiftly to stand directly behind Shay. His large hands snake around her waist and Steve can tell he squeezes her, hard, by the sudden, sharp inhale she takes. Her smug, bratty expression disappears immediately as Bucky leans down to the cusp of her ear, lips brushing against the silver rings and studs of piercings littering her cartilage.

“Steve is a brother, Shay. Now, apologize so we can let him leave and we can start your workout.” Bucky’s hands dig tighter into her waist. Steve’s stomach churns.

“I,” Shay sucks in another sharp breath and plasters on a forced smile. “I’m sorry, Steve.”

Bucky releases Shay and steps in front of her. Her hands fold around her stomach to cover the fingerprint marks bruising the sides of her stomach, gaze turning down to the floor at Bucky’s feet. Steve can see over Bucky’s shoulder that her lip is trembling. Genuinely, this time.

“Hey.”

Bucky’s tone snaps Steve’s focus back to him. Steve feels like a deer caught in front of a stopped car as Bucky studies him. The corners of his tight smile twitch into a smirk.

“I’ll see ya tonight, right, Stevie? Don’t forget, it’s baseball night.”

“Erm, yeah. Right. I’ll be there, Buck.”

Bucky winks at him, confirming some undisclosed agreement between them. Steve’s stomach backflips again.

Steve turns to finally leave, quickly making his way to the locker rooms, desperately wanting to shower off the uncomfortable ick clinging to him after whatever the hell that interaction was.

◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌ ◌

The door to the café chimes as Steve swings it open. The short line of customers turn to face him along with the barista at the counter. Steve stops mid-stride, panting from his sprint over from the gym. Sure, he’s got class in ten minutes, and it’s a fifteen minute walk to the art school, but he’s convinced himself he needs coffee and his daily dose of sunshine before continuing on with his day– especially after the whole ordeal in the gym earlier.

The barista grins at Steve. She mouths a ‘hi’ as she scribbles down the name for the current customer’s cup. Steve sighs, waving back and taking his place in line.

Admittedly, he was more worried than he thought about catching his favorite barista today. He chalks the anxiety up to the weird encounter with Bucky and Shay– the whole thing felt so wrong, so off. Everything about the way Bucky treated her, talked to her, how she acted before versus after Bucky got behind her– it rubbed Steve wrong in so many ways. He’s never seen or heard Bucky talk like that to anyone before. Not to Sam, not to Tony, or Clint, or even any of the random girls that show face at parties. He doesn’t know if he’s ever seen Shay around before, either. Something about the way she stood after, the stark contrast in her behavior, the way she tried to blame Steve for something he didn’t do.

“Can I help ya, stranger?”

The familiar voice brings Steve back from his clouded thoughts. She smiles warmly at him and he melts on the spot.

“I, uh–”

She giggles.

“I know your order already, silly. Is there anything else you’d like today?”

“N-no, uh, I’m good,” he stammers, sliding his card into the chip reader. “I just, uh–”

She cocks a brow, looking up at him from writing his name on the cup. Steve clears his throat, unsure why he’s suddenly stuttering at someone he sees everyday.

“Just, ah, needed to see you, honestly.”

He feels his cheeks automatically burn as he fumbles to put his card back in his wallet. He pulls out a couple ones and drops them in the tip jar for extra brownie points.

The barista’s eyes sparkle, holding her gaze on Steve. It’s a nice change, to see warmth instead of ulterior motives behind someone else’s gaze. He can tell she’s biting back a smile of her own as she finishes writing on his cup.

“Well, the feeling is mutual,” she says. “I honestly was beginning to think you weren’t comin’ in today.”

A fake pout crosses her lips before returning to a soft smile. She moves to the espresso machine and begins to make him a double shot. Steve scoffs a laugh, cheeks still burning. He shoves his hands in his pockets.

His heart skips, flips, in his chest.

“Ha, I, uh, got caught up at the gym.”

“Ah, so you’re one of those meathead gym bros, huh?”

Steve places a hand over his heart, jokingly wounded.

“Ouch! Wow, you’re really hittin’ where it hurts this mornin’, huh?”

She giggles, prepping the milk for his drink. “I kid, I kid. I respect the grind! Especially when steroids are in such high demand these days.” She flashes him a knowing smirk as she continues to move about the coffee bar.

Steve grins, shaking his head. He can’t believe her. He can’t get enough of her– her laugh, her voice, the way she looks at him. He stares at her for a moment, admiring the focus in her eyes as she meticulously finishes his drink, the curve of her lips when she’s satisfied with her work.

Steve is still staring when she appears at the counter to give him his drink.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

Steve flushes again and presses his lips together, muttering an embarrassed apologizing. Before she turns to go, before he’s forced to continue on with his day until he sees her again tomorrow, a thought pops into the forefront of his mind. Before he knows it, his voice is working faster than his brain can.

“Hey, my-my frat is throwing a party this weekend at, uh, our house,” he starts, mouth instantly going dry. “Would, um, you like to maybe come?”

She stops. Her brow arches, mouth opening and closing without a word. She looks at Steve, really looks at him, studying him as an answer brews on her tongue.

Steve panics. “I-if not that’s totally fine, I, um, I just thought that–”

“Yes.”

Steve’s train of thought instantaneously derails.

“You–you… yes?” He repeats. She scoffs a laugh and nods.

“No promises, but yes. I’ll try to be there.”

Steve’s face hurts from smiling.

“Awesome! Great! I, uh, yes!” Steve confirms again.

Before he can say ‘yes’ for the tenth time, she pulls a marker out of her apron pocket and grabs his cup again, scribbling something on the backside. As she turns back to the coffee bar, Steve picks up his cup and turns it over. His eyes land on a smudged phone number followed by a tiny, smudged heart. He looks up, finding her gaze again, and melts as she bites her lip.

“Text me, meathead.”

Steve beams. Any and all words he’s ever known disappear from his mind.

“I can do that.”

As Steve leaves the cafe, he doesn’t care about being late to class as he enters her number into his phone. He doesn’t care about what the brothers will say come Friday when he introduces the first girl– the first person– he’s ever brought to a party.

He sips his drink, smiling to himself, knowing it’s the best damn cup of coffee he’s ever had.

76 notes · View notes

thefallennightmare · 1 year

Text

Moment of Weakness-twenty two

*credit to whoever created the gif. found on google/Pinterest *

Pairings: Mob!Bucky Barnes x reader

Warnings: language, smut, angst, fluff, affair, cheating, violence.

Summary: Reader is the assistant to New York's most feared mob boss, James Buchanan Barnes. He had the picture-perfect life: status in the mob, friends, and beautiful wife. So why can't he keep his mind and eyes off of reader?

Author's Note: I'm so, so, so, sorry 😩

Tags(closed): @splendidreads @sebsgirl71479 @mdpplgtz03 @pattiemac1 @unaxv @alana4610 @broadwaybabe18 @themayzittcha @playboystark @raajali3 @ozwriterchick @ragamuffin285 @screamingdying @themorningsunshine @kenziekugler22 @calwitch @sebastianstansqueen @stanaddict @stucky-simp03 @sleyeveryday @loustan90 @lyra-black13 @valsworldofcreativity @cjand10 @tesseract69 @batprincess1013 @subwaysurf45 @arsonfrogger @yoruse @5moremin @lipstickandtanqueray @mandijo17 @joannaromanoff @justsebstan @winters1917 @elizacusi-blog @football1921 @elxvrr

The car door slammed behind me as I fumed with anger, the steam cascading over the windows. I tried to steady my breathing, deep breath in then deep breath out. I did this a few times until I felt all of my anger dissipate through my body. Being alone with Bucky had brought up so many past feelings that I knew if I didn’t force myself to leave, it would have ended with us naked on his couch.

Not wanting to drive quite yet, I spent the last few minutes browsing my phone when a post from Natasha on instagram popped up. My breath caught in my throat, the ultrasound staring back into my face.

Twelve weeks today!

I read the caption a few more times, something not quite sitting right in my gut about this whole thing. There was confusion on the dates; she told me almost two months ago that she was six weeks so shouldn’t she be at the very least 14 weeks? Also, the fact that I swore I saw her at Big Mike’s bar earlier today but couldn’t prove it, the lighting being too dark.

Curiosity got the best of me and I took a screenshot of the picture, deciding to look it up online. I wanted to be completely sure with my assumption before making an ass out of myself in front of Bucky.

“I fucking knew it!” I exclaimed, my voice echoing throughout my small car.

The picture that Natasha posted had immediately shown up on google, at least thirty pictures, with the same position of the fetus and everything. The only difference, she must have photoshopped her info on the sonogram. A women's clinic in town had it posted on their website which must have been where Natasha found it.

She was faking the pregnancy. But why?

Unless she found out about the divorce and thought it would be the only way to keep Bucky?

Or.

“Oh, fuck!” I cursed, the realization slamming into me like a freight train.

Natasha knew about Bucky and I.

I saw Bucky’s car was still in the parking lot so I bolted from my car back inside of the office, his name falling from my lips.

He quickly came out of his office, eyes filled with worry. “What’s wrong?”

“She knows.”

Bucky raised a brow. “What?”

I sighed while tossing my things back onto my desk. “Natasha knows about us.”

His pupils went wide for a moment. “How do you know?”

I gnawed on the inside of my cheek because I wasn’t entirely sure on how to bring this up without making him upset.

“I can’t,” I shook my head. “I can’t tell you exactly how I know but trust me, Natasha knows about the affair.”

Bucky ran a hand over his jaw and let out an annoyed breath. “You want me to trust you?”

My head shook feverishly but did nothing to assure him.

“You’re being ridiculous, Y/N,” Bucky turned his back to me and went back into his office.

I scoffed loudly. “Excuse me?”

He sat on his couch while I came to a halt in front of him, hands on my hips.

“How well do you trust Natasha?”

Bucky’s lips twitched. “She’s my wife.”

“Seriously? This is why I can’t tell you!” I exasperated.

He stretched his arms over the back of the couch. “You have this thought that Natasha knows about us but won’t tell me what makes you think that.

I shifted on my feet. “Can you promise to listen to everything I have to say?”

When he nodded, I took a deep breath in an effort to gain the courage I had been seeking.

“I think she’s faking her pregnancy.”

Bucky leaned his elbows on his knees, jaw clenching with anger. “What?”

“Okay, so.” I began to pace around the office, unable to look him straight in the eyes; his piercing blue eyes. “Nothing about it makes sense. When you first told me about the pregnancy, you said she was a few months along but when I saw her a few days later, she said she’s only a few weeks along.”

“Today, she posted a picture of her sonogram and said she was three months today but that doesn’t make sense, she should be almost five months.”

I stopped in my tracks momentarily to look at Bucky, who simply watched me with a raised brow.

“Then I swear I saw her at Big Mike’s bar drinking. Or, well it looked like it was her. It was too dark inside so I’m not one hundred percent sure.”

Bucky slowly raised to his feet while placing his hands on his hips. “Are you done?”

I nodded while taking a breath, needing more oxygen after rambling for the last couple minutes.

“You’re only saying this because you’re upset that I decided to stay with Natasha.” Bucky said.

I sneered with my top lip curled. “Did you forget that I was the one that decided to end things?”

His brow raised at me. “So why are you even here, Y/N? To tell me lies in hopes I divorce Natasha so you can get what you want?”

My eyes stung with his words, welling with tears. “That’s not why I brought this up. I thought you should know that she’s lying to you and it's because she knows about us. She’s trying to do whatever she can to keep you.”

“The only proof you have is a gut feeling,” Bucky pinched his eyes shut with a sigh. “I can’t bring this up to her without it.”

“Can’t you trust my word? I wouldn’t lie about something like this, Bucky.” I pleaded.

He looked at his feet with his head hung low. “She doesn’t know about us. We were always so careful.”

My fingers itched to reach for him, forcing him to look into my eyes to see that I was telling the truth. Our personal feelings aside, Bucky didn’t deserve to be lied to. I only wished I had some sort of proof.

“Bucky,” I breathed while grabbing his hand to give it a squeeze.

He finally looked up and my breath hitched when he stepped closer towards me, his body heat engulfing around us in our own personal bubble.

“You don’t deserve this,” I told him.

“Doll,” Bucky’s voice cracked.

The magnetic pull between us had returned and With a quick low scoop of lips, he pressed them against mine and I froze for a second before melting into him, my hands quickly finding his hair. Bucky’s vibranium hand grasped my cheek to deepen the kiss; his tongue wrapped around my own.

“No!” I pushed him away. “Why did you do that?!”

Bucky reached for me but I responded by smacking him, hard, across his face. His eyes darted down to the ground while licking his lips, teeth digging into his bottom one.

“Stop it!”

The tears fell from my eyes as I ran a shaking hand through my hair. “I shouldn’t have come back inside.”

“I’m sorry, doll. I know it’s wrong but it feels so right being with you.”

I pushed his chest hard which made him stumble back onto his couch. “I don’t care! You can’t continue to have your wife and me on the side. I know she’s faking the pregnancy but that doesn't mean she continues to deserve this.”

“For once in your life, Bucky. You don’t get whatever you want,” I cried while wiping the tears away.

“If you bring me proof that she’s lying, I’ll go through with the divorce,” Bucky said.

I stared at him, dumbfounded, and slowly shook my head. “I shouldn’t have to do that. If you loved me like I love you, you would trust what I’m saying.”

Bucky blinked, my confession not going over his head like I wished it would. “Wh-what?”

“I love you, Bucky even though I tried not to fall for you because I knew what it only meant in the end.”

I motioned between us. “You said it yourself; you can’t love people easily.”

“I’ll try-.”

“Don’t you get it?!” I screamed, interrupting him. “I can’t keep doing this! I did my best to be strong around you, tried to go back to normal but the second I’m alone with you I throw everything out the window. All I want to do is kiss you, love you, but I can’t because you won’t leave her!”

There were fresh tears streaming down my face as I choked out a sob. This was something I feared to do, not wanting to leave everyone I met here behind. But I knew, deep in my gut, that mentally I couldn't stay any longer.

“I quit.” I managed to get out through the sobs.

Bucky was fast on his feet. “You don’t have to leave, Y/N.”

“I do,” I cried. “Because if I stay, it’s only going to bring me more pain and my heart can’t handle any more.”

“Please,” he begged while reaching for me.

I stepped away from him and with tears trailing into my mouth, bitter tears stinging my tongue, I gave him the best smile I could.

“All I ask is that you don’t call me, begging to come back, when you find out she was lying to you. You could have been happy with me, Bucky. I could have loved you till my last breath.”

Without looking back to see his own tears falling, I let the cries flow through me in waves finally saying goodbye to someone I should have a long time ago.

#mob!bucky barnes #mob!bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky barnes and reader #mob!bucky barnes x yn #mob!bucky barnes and yn #mob!bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes and reader #sebastian stan #moment of weakness-mob!bucky barnes

278 notes · View notes

boyrobott · 25 days

Text

everybody says they love me (but i'm still brokenhearted)

It's been six days now since Astro fell to the Surface, and there is something wrong with him.

Read on AO3.

It's been six days now since Astro fell to the Surface, and there is something wrong��with him.

Actually, now that he thinks about it, there are a whole lot of things wrong with him, and it's probably more than enough to fill up an entire book at this point — or, at the absolute least, make for a pretty long list. And it begins with the fact that he's a robot — a real actual robot, like those guys calling themselves the RRF, or the millions on millions of old, outdated machines in the junkyard, or the new zeronium automations rolling off the factory line in the Ministry of Science this month — and he knows it's true, he knows it's real, he saw the wires and circuits under his skin with his own eyes, he saw the Core spinning slow and steady in his chest, crackling with electricity and burning blue, but he just can't get his head around it.

Every night, he lays awake long after everyone else has already gone to sleep, his eyes wide open in the dark, staring up at the splintered wooden bottom of Zane's bunk, right above his own, and he tries to figure out exactly where Tobi ends, and where Astro begins. Every night, he lays awake long after everyone else has already gone to sleep, and he tries to figure out if all these feelings swirling around inside him — the grief heavy and cold in the pit of his stomach, and the hope a tiny, tentative flicker of light in the center of his chest — are really his feelings at all, or just lines on lines on lines of code written into his brain by the man who made him, and then threw him away like he was garbage.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he was just a robot.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he was just your ordinary, average, run-of-the-mill factory-made machine. Maybe that would be okay. Maybe he could get his head around that. Maybe he could figure out what to do with that.

But that's not what he is.

He's the mechanical replica of a dead boy. He's a copy of a corpse. He's a clone, a faint echo of somebody long gone, a pale and empty and imperfect imitation that isn't even supposed to exist, and no one wants him, and he looks in the mirror, and a face that isn't his looks back at him — Tobi's brown eyes, and Tobi's round cheeks, and Tobi's spiked-up black hair, and Tobi's nose, and Tobi's ears, and Tobi's mouth, and Tobi's voice coming out of that mouth, and Tobi's favorite blue jacket on his shoulders and Tobi's favorite red boots on his feet, and this face isn't his and this body isn't his and these clothes aren't his and this brain isn't his and these memories of a whole entire life before last week aren't his and these feelings aren't his and everything he's ever had and everything he's ever said and everything he's ever thought and everything he's ever felt isn't his,because he's not even a real person!

The one and only thing he can truly call his own is his new name.

And he's spent the last six days down on the Surface below Metro City, trying to pass himself off as a Totally Normal Human Boy With Absolutely No Inexplicably Robotic Attributes Whatsoever. No, siree, just your average, ordinary, unremarkable preteen kid over here!

But here's the really crazy thing: It's working.

Astro can barely believe it, but no one has asked him any probing or uncomfortable questions, or even spared him a second look, since the night he showed up here, trailing behind Cora and Zane with his heart in his throat and his stomach tied up in knots, and nervously stammering out flimsy half-truths about his parents and his past, praying no one would dig any deeper, and so sure that he was doing it all wrong, that his posture was too stiff and too tense, that his facial expressions were shifting too fast and too smoothly until they all blended into each other in the most glaringly and unnaturally inhuman way possible, and what if he forgot to blink as much as everyone else? what if he forgot to breathe as much as everyone else? what if the truth was written all over him somewhere that he couldn't see — on his forehead, or on his back, maybe, spelled out in big bold letters saying this isn't a real person, this isn't a real person, this isn't a real person, don't let him fool you, he's a fake, he's faking, he's not a real person, he looks like he's a real person, but he's not, he's a fake, he's a fake, he's a fake!

But it's been six days now, and nobody has said anything about it.

Not even yesterday, when they were cleaning up ZOG for the Robot Games (which Astro still isn't totally sure he understands, but when he tried to ask them about it again, Zane shrugged it off and said it's a Surface thing, dude, so that probably means he'll just have to see it for himself before he really gets it) and Cora slipped off the robot's gleaming bronze shoulder, the bottoms of her shoes slick with soapy water, and he had to fire up his rocket boots to catch her before she hit the ground (because what on earth was he supposed to do in that situation, anyway? just let her fall?) she didn't call him out on it, and nobody else did, either.

And that must mean nobody saw it.

Look, he knows he can't keep this up forever, okay? He knows he has to tell them the truth sooner or later, and he knows it's better to just face the music, just get it over with, and more than anything, he knows they deserve it — after everything they've done for him, the way they welcomed him into their home and their family and their lives with open arms and no reservations, treating him just the same as every other kid around here even though they only met him last week.

They deserve to know what he really is.

And they deserve to hear it directly from him.

Seriously, what does he even have to be afraid of? Hamegg said himself that he loves robots, after all, and it's not like the other kids have any problems with them, either — they were so excited to meet ZOG just a few days ago when Astro got him back online, rushing right over to the giant without so much as a minute of hesitation, and they definitely dote on Trash Can every chance they get, petting him and praising him and spoiling him with treats of all kinds — so it's not like they're going to do a complete one-eighty and decide they hate him specifically for being one, right? Sure, he's not exactly as cool and awesome and crazy-strong as ZOG, and he's obviously not cute and charming and lovable like Trash Can, but there must be something in him they like, right? There must be some reason they let him come home with them that day in the junkyard, right? There must be some reason they didn't just walk away and leave him to fend for himself in the scrap heaps, right? There must be some reason they like him, right? There has to be something they like about him. There has to be something, and if it was enough to convince them to let him into their weird, wonderful family, it must be enough for them to like him even though he's a robot.

Right?

He really shouldn't be so nervous about this.

He really shouldn't be so afraid.

But it's been six days now since he fell to the Surface, and there is something wrong with him.

His whole body has been aching like one big bruise all day long, a dull but constant pulse of pain spreading out and out and out like ripples on a pond until every last inch of him hurts. His arms and legs feel oddly stiff, and sore, almost swollen at the joints in his knees and elbows, and when he tries to bend his limbs, or stand up, or turn his head, he—

—he creaks.

Like the rusted metal hinge on Tobi's locker door at school as it swings open. Like an old wooden floorboard when it takes on too much weight. Like a couple of steel gears grinding roughly together. Like a failing engine in a broken-down hovercar. Like a window that hasn't been opened in a while. Like the millions on millions of old, outdated machines in the junkyard. Like a robot.

And it's so excruciatingly, piercingly loud that the other kids can actually hear it, too, looking around the room with baffled frowns on their faces for a second or two before they shake their heads, shrug it off, say it must be ZOG, or Trash Can, or some new project that Hamegg is working on down in his shop, and Astro knows he really shouldn't be so nervous about this, he knows he really shouldn't be so afraid, but every time he moves, and that godawful screeching, scraping noise rings out, he holds his breath and he waits for them to work out the truth, his hands trembling in his lap and all the air in his lungs turning rapidly to ice.

He really shouldn't be so nervous about this.

He really shouldn't be so afraid.

But his secret is closer to the surface than it's ever been before, and he is so, so terrified.

That night, he lays awake long after everyone else has already gone to sleep, his eyes wide open in the dark, staring up at the splintered bottom of Zane's bunk, right above his own, and he tries not to move around too much, because it hurts, and he tries to figure out what on earth could be wrong with him.

"I-I don't know what's going on," he whispers, finally, to Trash Can — who has apparently decided he doesn't actually mind Astro all that much, because the minute they started shutting off the lights and crawling under the covers, he trotted over to Astro's bunk and curled up at the foot of the bed with a contented little whirr. "I don't know what's going on with me, Trash Can. If I can't fix it…"

Trash Can yawns so wide that his mechanical jaw pops, and gives a single, drowsy beep in response. Boy needs oil.

Astro goes dead still beneath his patched blanket, breath catching somewhere in the back of his throat. He didn't hear that right. There is no way he heard that right. There is no way he actually heard that right. "W-What did you just say?"

Boy needs oil, Trash Can repeats, slower and sleepier this time. Robots creak when oil is low. Boy creaks because oil is low.

"What?" Astro says, reflexively, even as all the air rushes from his chest in a heavy, shuddering gasp, and his whole body goes cold as ice — of course he knows that robots need oil, because Orrin's body used to groan like this whenever he was due for a refill, and ZOG drank almost two entire gallons of the stuff earlier today, and Trash Can will lap it straight from his dog bowl in the corner of the kitchen with his tiny, metallic tongue, but he's never actually connected any of that to himself, because he's not like that.

…Is he?

Boy is robot, Trash Can chirps unhelpfully, like he really thinks Astro needs the reminder right now. Robots need oil. Boy needs oil.

Astro shakes his head, and he doesn't even care about the horrible noise it makes anymore. "But I'm not—I'm not like—" he swallows, a little too hard, the word burning a hole right through the inside of his mouth until he has to shift gears in the middle of his sentence, "—that."

Trash Can whines in confusion, lifting his head an inch or two off the lumpy, torn-up mattress. Hasn't boy ever needed oil before?

"…I don't think so?"

There's a long stretch of silence then, and Astro is just beginning to think the dog must have fallen asleep, or gotten bored of him, or something, when another shrill beep rings out from the foot of the bed. How old is boy?

"Uh…" He frowns, and plucks at a loose, fraying thread on the edge of his blanket as he thinks it through, careful not to put too much strength into the motion so he doesn't accidentally unravel the whole thing. "I-I don't know. No one told me. It's been about a week since I woke up in the lab, though, and I think that was my first day."

Oh, Trash Can says, like everything makes perfect sense now, and he sits up a little, ears perked. Why didn't boy say so before? Boy is baby!

"What?!" Astro isn't actually sure if it's physically possible for him to blush, but a rush of heat definitely floods his face. "No! I'm eleven years old! Th-That's, like, practically a teenager!"

Babies are small, Trash Can chirps at him, with an air of absolute authority. Babies don't know anything. Everything is new to babies. And boy is small. And boy doesn't know anything. And everything is new to boy. Boy is baby.

And then the dog curls up at the foot of the bed again, paws tucked under his chin and eyes squeezed shut, like the matter is settled.

Astro scowls at him for a second or two — just because he's only been alive for seven days total doesn't make him a baby! — but he's got way bigger problems on his plate right now than his age, and everything it apparently means in Robot Years, or whatever. (Or… maybe it's just Robot Dog Years? Are Robot Dog Years different from Regular Dog Years? Maybe he should ask Hamegg.) He doesn't want a refill of oil to be the solution to his creaking body and aching joints — which is really kind of stupid, actually, because a refill of oil is just about the simplest, easiest fix in the world, and he could go ahead and take care of it now, while everyone else is fast asleep and no one will ever know and no one will ever find out — but it's not like he's got any better ideas.

"Do you…" he nudges the dog lightly in the side to get his attention again. "Do you really think it will help me? Oil, I mean?"

Trash Can lets out a sleepy, affirmative beep. Robots need oil. All robots need oil. Even baby robots.

Astro pointedly ignores the jab. "Right… yeah… um… Hamegg has some in his shop, doesn't he?"

Man has oil, Trash Can nods. Man has lots and lots of oil. Man will give oil. Ask man to give oil.

Astro doesn't know why he didn't expect that, but he really didn't expect that, and it sends a sharp, awful jolt straight to the pit of his queasy stomach just to hear it. "No! I-I can't do that!"

Trash Can sits up again, cocking his head to the side in confusion. Man gives oil. Trash Can asks, and man gives. Man gives oil to all robots. Boy is robot. Man will give if boy asks.

And Astro is sure he's right, sure that Hamegg wouldn't withhold a basic necessity like that from any robot who asks (even if they have spent the past six days lying to him) but his insides still feel like a writhing, hissing nest of angry vipers when he thinks about it. "No, Trash Can, I… I can't. I just can't." He tries to swallow, but there's a hard block at the back of his throat, and it won't let him. "I-I don't want him to find out like that." I don't want him to find out ever, but he pushes the thought away, shoves it to the back of his mind and locks it up tight, because that's bad, and wrong, and not fair to the man who has treated him as nothing less than his own flesh-and-blood son ever since he stepped through the door.

Trash Can considers this for a long, silent minute, his bright blue eyes glowing faintly in the dark and his tiny ears flicking back and forth, before he finally lets out another, more authoritative chirp. Trash Can knows where oil is. Trash Can take you to oil.

Before he can say anything to that, the dog jumps off the bed, and scampers out of the room — through the raggedy, rust-red curtain that divides the bedroom from the rest of the house, through the empty, darkened living room, up the stairs, around the corner, and right through the automatic door that slides open with a big whoosh as soon as it senses the weight and motion of living people in front of it.

And then, just like that, they're in Hamegg's workshop.

Even as Astro follows Trash Can over the threshold and toward the big plastic crate in the corner chock-full of tin cans, his stomach is tight with guilt, and he feels filthy all over. He shouldn't be doing this. He really should not be doing this. He should just wait until tomorrow, when he can tell Hamegg the truth, and ask him for some oil face-to-face. He should just go back to bed and come clean to everyone in the morning. He shouldn't be doing this. He shouldn't be using them like this. He shouldn't be using Hamegg like this. Hamegg trusts him, and here he is, sneaking around in the middle of the night and stealing from him.

This is no way to repay the people who took him in when no one else wanted him.

But he takes a seat on the rusted windowsill anyway, the metal cold as ice through the thin cotton of the flannel-patterned pajama pants Zane loaned him when he found out Astro didn't have any clothes except his jeans and jacket, and he pulls a can of oil out of the crate below, automatically popping up the spout just like he saw ZOG do earlier.

And then he realizes, abruptly, that he actually has no idea what on earth he's supposed to do next. Robots usually ingest it through the mouth, he knows that, because that's what ZOG did, and Trash Can, too… but… that can't be what he has to do, is it? But he really can't think of anything else to do but drink it — maybe he could open up the energy chamber in his chest and pour it in through there, but that doesn't sound exactly right, and he really doesn't want to find out the hard way that it doesn't work. What if it gums up his gears? What if it hurts the Core? What if it makes him malfunction? What if it kills him?

"Uh…" he glances uncertainly between the thick, sludgy, thoroughly unappetizing black liquid swirling around in the canister and the dog curled up comfortably beneath the window. "So… I just… drink it, then? I guess?"

Trash Can gives a high-pitched little warble of amusement — if boy is not baby, shouldn't boy know what to do with oil? — and then a quick trill of confirmation: Silly boy. All robots drink oil.

"Oh," Astro says, with absolutely no enthusiasm. "Great. That's… so great. This is great." He allows himself one last apprehensive look at the dark fluid before he finally lifts the can up to his lips, cold tin clinking lightly against his teeth, and takes the tiniest possible sip.

It tastes exactly like what it is: motor oil.

And it tastes… good.

Before he even knows what he's doing, he's already taken another swallow, bigger than the first, and then he goes in for another one, drinking it down so quickly he actually kind of forgets to breathe in between sips, and the can is more than half-empty by the time he finally pauses to drag in a gulp of air instead, though he knows rationally that his artificial lungs don't really need the oxygen at all. He takes a second to wipe his mouth before he finishes off the rest of it, and when he pulls his hand away, the pale skin is stained a sleek, glossy black, glistening faintly in the starlight pouring in on him through the open window.

He doesn't know why it hits him right then. He doesn't know why it hits him so powerfully, and so painfully, but the longer he looks at that dark, gleaming streak on the back of his hand, the deeper and deeper it begins to sink in: he just drank almost an entire can of oil in one go, and he liked it.

Because he's a robot.

Like those guys calling themselves the RRF, like the millions on millions of old, outdated machines in the junkyard, like the new zeronium automations rolling off the factory line in the Ministry of Science this month, like Orrin, like ZOG, like Trash Can. His stomach twists, clenching up like a closed fist — tighter and tighter the longer he thinks about it — until there's a horrible second where he really thinks the oil is going to come right back up again, and he's going to vomit all over the floor of poor Hamegg's workshop in the middle of the night. And then he remembers that he won't, he can't, and he already knew that, of course he knew that, but the reminder still slams into him like a speeding train, smacking him off-kilter and knocking all the breath clean out of him in a single blow.

I don't want to be a robot, Astro realizes, with a clarity so sharp it stings. I don't want to be a robot. I don't want to be a robot. And he definitely doesn't want to be a robot like this — a clockwork clone of another kid who died months ago, a messed-up mimicry of a human with wires instead of veins, iron instead of bones, coolant instead of blood, and a star where his heart should be. He doesn't want to live like this — sneaking out in the dead and dark of night to drink oil where no one can see, and hoping with every gear and cog and circuit in his body that Trash Can won't give him away, that ZOG won't give him away, that he won't give himself away, that he can keep this up for just one more day, just one more hour, just one more minute, just until he's ready to tell them, just until he figures out how to tell them. He doesn't want the rest of his life to be like this — trying to make sure his posture isn't too stiff or too tense, trying to make sure his facial expressions aren't shifting too fast, or too smoothly, and trying to remember to blink as much as everyone else, trying to remember to breathe as much as everyone else, his heart in his throat and his stomach tied up in knots as he carefully carefully carefully arranges himself into a shape so close to human that no one can ever tell the difference.

He doesn't want to live like this. He doesn't want the rest of his life to be like this. He doesn't want to pretend to be normal. He doesn't want to have to pretend to be normal. He just wants to be normal.

(He doesn't want to be different.)

#astro boy #astro boy 2009 #tetsuwan atom #mighty atom #astroboyfanweek2024 #astro boy fanfiction #astro boy fanfic #astro boy fic #astro boy 2009 fanfiction #astro boy 2009 fanfic #astro boy 2009 fic

22 notes · View notes

legolasghosty · 2 months

Note

if this doesn't scream boggie, i don't know what does: They smell like sparkles and sunshine and I want to kiss their stupid face so bad

Bobby slammed the apartment door behind him, heading straight for the couch. He didn't slow down until he was flat on his stomach, his burning cheeks hidden by a Gayosaurus throw pillow ("Like a normal gay, but more awesome!") that Willie had found somewhere six months ago. Bobby wasn't ever sure where he found this sort of thing. He'd given up on asking when they were still in college, the two of them and Alex randomly paired up in a freshman dorm.

"What happened here?" the previously mentioned pillow finder said from somewhere above Bobby.

The soft click of Alex closing their front door properly was followed by the drummer's sigh of, "Reggie, what else."

Bobby felt the couch dip near his feet as probably Willie sat down. "You wanna talk about it, dude?" they asked. Bobby couldn't decide if their tone was sympathetic or teasing.

"No," he mumbled into the pillow.

Look, dating your bandmates didn't work out well. Reggie and Luke had been together for a bit when they were all in college and it had burned hot and fast. Bobby had been sure the band would break up for good when they called it quits. It had taken a whole new person, Luke's now queerplatonic partner and their band frontwoman Julie, to get the two of them to talk it out and become friends again. Even then, it had been a rough couple of months for all of them.

So, no matter how pretty Reggie was or how sometimes Bobby thought he leaned a bit closer to their shared mic than necessary, they couldn't be a thing. It wouldn't work.

"Dude, you can't just keep ignoring it and hope it goes away," Alex sighed, now sounding much closer. "Remember how I tried that and it failed? Epicly?"

Bobby lifted his head just enough to shoot Alex a glare. "That's not the same thing," he protested. "No offense, Willie."

"None taken," they chuckled. "But Lex has a point. Shoving it down doesn't work, and it might just turn out better than you think."

Bobby dropped his face back down to the pillow and flipped them both off. "No."

He felt a foot nudging his shoulder, indicating that Alex had found his perch on the back of the couch above him. "Bobby, Reggie likes you back, you guys just have to get your acts together and talk about it."

"Hypocrite," Bobby mumbled. But he groaned and rolled onto his side, glancing up at his roommates and best friends. Maybe talking it out would help erase his stupid crush on his bandmate. "I know he maybe thinks I'm cute or whatever, but it wouldn't work. The band almost broke up when Luke and Reggie did, and I can't be responsible for doing that to you guys. I just can't."

"Okay, I get that," Alex began. "But what makes you so sure the two of you wouldn't work? I mean yeah, Luke and him didn't go so well, but there were a lot of reasons for that."

"Very much including the fact that they were 19 and neither of them had actually been in a serious relationship before," Willie added. "And I love them both, but their communication skills aren't the best now, let alone two years ago."

"You and Reg are good for each other," Alex continued, giving Bobby that heavy, open stare that he usually masked behind several layers of sarcasm. "He gets you out of your routine and trying new things. You help him slow down and talk things out."

"You're both better people for being around each other," Willie agreed, one hand resting on Bobby's ankle. Then the corner of his mouth quirks up. "Not to mention the fact that you guys practically make out at the mic every other song."

"We do not!" Bobby insisted, forcing himself up on one elbow. "Mic sharing is totally normal."

"Mic sharing, yes. But you two take the phrase 'eat the mic' a little too literally," Alex laughed. Then his amusement faded. "But seriously. You like him. He likes you. And we're all semi-functioning adults who can at least pretend to be emotionally mature. At least talk to him."

"Even if you decide not to give it a shot, at least you'll have been honest with each other," Willie said.

"But what if it messes everything up?" Bobby asked, hating how small his voice sounded. "I mean, yeah, he smells like sparkles and sunshine and I wanna kiss his stupid face so bad, but I don't want it to destroy the band. Or our whole... family."

Willie's expression is now solidly in the sympathetic zone. "But what if it makes it better?" they countered. "I mean, Lex and I were great as friends, and we're better as partners, and we're both better friends to the rest of you because of being together."

The smile Alex gave them for that is enough to make Bobby fake gag and throw the Gayosaurus pillow at them. But... maybe they're right.

"Hug time?" Alex questioned.

Bobby just nodded, suddenly feeling heavy at the possibility of having Reggie as something other than a bandmate. But heavy in a good way, like crawling under his weighted blanket at the end of a long day.

Alex dropped down onto the couch beside him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and pulling him in. Bobby let Willie resituate both of their legs on his lap. He usually wasn't one for being manhandled by his friends, but it was nice to let them take care of him every once in a while. He tried to focus on the clean and salty scent of Alex's hoodie and the easy movement of Willie's thumb on his ankle.

Maybe, just maybe, they had a point. At the very least, he owed it to Reggie to let him be a part of the conversation, right? Bobby let out a soft sigh. This meant he'd have to actually have a conversation about it with the bassist. But he was getting better at those at least. It was 'healthy' or something. Maybe it would be okay. Maybe they would be okay.

"So..." Willie mused after a while, "what do sparkles and sunshine smell like?"

"Screw you," Bobby groaned, hiding his face in Alex's chest.

20 notes · View notes

raccoon-eyed-rebel · 8 months

Text

Closer

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Pairing: barista!Mike (Hellraiser) x reader (you)

Summary: Mike makes good on a promise to take you somewhere nice for the weekend.

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: Fluff, some cheesy lines, the story behind that kiss people were curious about, a back rub, nudity... I don't think I have to tag anything 18+ yet.... hm...

A/N: Well... I'd say I'm sorry but I'd be lying... (But we're getting there, I promise.)

If you like this fic, please let me know 🥰 and reblog so that others may see it too! <3

@deandoesthingstome @geralts-yenn @mayloma @ellethespaceunicorn @sillyrabbit81 @summersong69 @peyton-warren @livisss @ylva-syverson @sweetandgentlecreature

“So,” Mike continues his story as he pours the last of the bottle of wine you’d shared over dinner, “my mom tried to throw a chair at his head when she found out, but it turned out to be a really heavy chair she couldn’t lift, so that plan went down the drain real fast… In the end, she just kicked him out and had the locks changed the same night.”

“Wait, so your dad had several side pieces and your mom still stayed with him?” you ask in disbelief, stressing that if Mike tried to pull that shit on you, you’d at least castrate him. “And I’d find a lighter chair to throw.”

First, he laughs, but then his face turns serious again: “She didn’t stay with him. They were actually divorced for nearly ten years.”

“And they got back together?”

Mike nods. “Yeah – which mom didn’t tell me about, so I just about strangled dad when I saw him in the kitchen somewhere halfway through my second year of college… I’m still not completely used to living with the guy again.”

“So your mom kissing Sy was… when they were still split up?”

“Yeah…” It’s immediately obvious that Mike doesn’t really like to talk about this. “There was this guy, Dave, she was with him for a while. He tried really hard to be my dad, which I didn’t like, so I was glad to see him go. I had just started college when he broke it off, and it left my mom in a bad place, because things had been getting serious and whatnot.” Mike sighs as he remembers the story. “Then one night she’s been drinking and Sy shows up because he’d promised her to take a look at her car or some shit… She kissed him. And then me, Will and Evan walked in on that.”

“I can’t even imagine what the worst part of that must have been,” you say as you stare at Mike wide-eyed.

“Oh, that’s easy!” he says immediately. “The worst was by far the fact that Will and Evan – for the next six months – wouldn’t shut up about Sy becoming my new step daddy.” The way he says it is so amusing that you almost spit your wine over the table.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be laughing,” you say.

“No, that’s pretty much the only thing that works,” he laughs. “We still joke about it. I don’t always appreciate it, but… My dad was even worse about it than I was, he couldn’t look at Sy for a while after he heard about what had happened. They’re cool now though.”

Mike downs the last of his wine right when you take your last sip, and as soon as you put your empty glasses on the table, the atmosphere in the room changes. You look at Mike, and he stares back at you, but neither of you says anything.

Finally, Mike breaks the silence: “I’m, eh… I’m going to take a shower. You can hang on the couch while I’m gone, if you want…”

“Mike,” you say, one eyebrow raised. He looks up at you and hums. “I’m going to wait for you in bed.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to rush anything…” Oh for fuck’s sake! You cut him off immediately.

“Mike! We’ve been trying to hook up for nearly two months now! We’re a solid six weeks past rushing anything.” You get up and walk over to him. As soon as you’re standing behind his chair, you throw your arms around his neck and bend down to put your head on his shoulder. “I can’t wait any longer.” Mike shivers and swallows hard when you put your lips on his neck. “Are you sure you don’t want to come with me right now?”

“Eh…” He looks embarrassed when he speaks again. “I really need that shower…” Oh? Oh. Right. You’re not the only one who’s been waiting for this for weeks.

Your heart flutters when you hear the water turn off, and it doesn’t take Mike long to appear in the doorway. He’s wearing those goddamn grey sweatpants from that thirst trap with the turtles – and the legion of shameless pics after that. It’s annoying how good he looks in those sweats.

The night of the campfire had already shown you his hair gets adorably curly when wet, but it somehow looks even better today. You swallow hard when he walks towards the bed and climbs in. With a remote you hadn’t noticed, he turns off the big ceiling light of the room, and strings of fairy lights come on that are wrapped around the posts of the bed.

“Safer than candles,” Mike says, “ask my mom how they came to that conclusion.”

“I don’t want to talk or think about your parents right now, Mike,” you laugh. “Had a nice shower?”

“Very,” he says with a big grin on his face, “did you enjoy yourself in the meantime?” The real answer is ‘no’, but you’re not going to tell him that. Every second he spent in that shower, you spent getting worked up over whatever is going to happen now that he’s out of the shower – which means you’re both horny and terrified right now. What if those past weeks have sent your expectations soaring, and everything is going to be a major disappointment?

With great difficulty, you push away those thoughts, taking a deep breath before leaning over to kiss Mike. Unfortunately, he’s already picked up on your nerves.

“You look a little tense, baby,” he mutters after giving you a small peck on your lips. Something in his tone tells you that he knows just the thing to get you to relax. He reaches for the drawer of the nightstand and pulls out a bottle you can’t read the label of. “Turn around, lose the top,” he commands. Shit.

“Eh…” You had a plan. That plan included a new set of lingerie that cost you half of your last paycheck, and you had planned on actually showing that to him… but not like this. On another note: Why does he have to pick up on your distress immediately?

“Ooooh, what are you wearing underneath those pajamas?” he muses, wrapping his arms around you from behind and pulling you close. Curious hands slip underneath the satiny fabric of your babydoll, exploring the lace of the one-piece you have on. “Lemme see, lemme see, lemme see, lemme see…”

“Mikey!” you shriek when he pulls you down onto the mattress and practically rips your pajamas off your body.

“This is very nice, Sweetcheeks,” he says when he’s finally looking at you in the black body you’d picked out for the occasion. He’s trying really hard not to let you know how impatient he is to get you out of it, but he fails miserably, because he’s incredibly impatient to get you out of it.

“All of this is wasted on you, isn’t it?” you ask.

He smiles apologetically. “It’s covering up what I like best about your body,” he pouts. “Boobies shouldn’t be confined to uncomfortable lace and underwire contraptions! They should be free!”

“A big feminist and supporter of the ‘Free the Nipple’-movement, I see,” you tease.

He smirks down at you and shrugs. “Listen, that has nothing to do with this. I like this thing, I appreciate the effort, but I still want to take it off. Is that wrong?”

You shake your head and pull him in for a kiss. “It’s not.”

“I’m happy I got to see it. It looks really good on you, and it’s going to look even better on the floor.”

“Oh! Cheesy cliché, no boobies for Mikey!” you push him off and turn around. Wrong move. His hands are at the back immediately where he undoes the clasp of your underwear and somehow pulls it down seemingly effortlessly, and flings it somewhere.

“I was, like, super disappointed about the ‘no boobies’ thing, but now that I see your ass…” You shriek in surprise when Mike somehow manages to bite your butt.

“Don’t bite me!” The hand you throw back towards where you know his head must be hits Mike right in the forehead.

“Don’t hit me!” he retorts, wrapping his arms around you. He’s on top of you now, you’re both laughing, neither of you is in a comfortable position, you’re naked – he’s not, and the whole situation is silly to the point where it’s almost ridiculous. Mike pretend-attacks your neck, playfully growling and sort of tickling you…

“Unhand me, you deeply unserious man!” you laugh, and Mike stops – it makes you sad, even though it’s exactly what you asked for.

“What kind of an insult is that?” he asks, and you shrug. It wasn’t meant as an insult, per se. Mike rolls off you again and lies down next to you. “Am I ruining the mood?” he asks sincerely.

“Not at all!” you answer. “I like when you’re like this! You’re funny and sweet. And – correct me if I’m wrong – you’re silly like this with your cats, too. And with your friends. With all the people you care about. I like that I’m one of them.”

Mike looks at you as if you just lit a block of ice on fire. “I’ve heard ‘obnoxious’, ‘annoying’, ‘immature’, ‘weird’… all kinds of shit. But never ‘funny and sweet’.”

“Sounds to me like you’ve been dating the wrong girls.” You know for a fact he’s been dating the wrong girls, because until now, none of the girls were, well… you.

“Yeah,” Mike sighs before propping himself up on his elbow. “If I remember correctly, I was on my way to giving you a back rub when you annoyingly put nice lingerie in my way. You still want in on that?”

Would ‘I want you to rub the inside of my pussy with your cock’ be too crude a reply to that? You quickly decide against the answer and just respond to his question with a decisive nod. As impatient as you are to get laid… That back rub does sound nice.

Mike’s hands are absolute magic; they’re big and strong and putting pressure in all the right places. Of course, he’s also relentlessly teasing you with soft touches, trailing his fingers down your spine, making you shiver. Soon, his tongue follows suit, trailing your shoulder, and you’re left wondering… “Don’t you have a mouth full of disgusting massage oil now?”

“Sweetcheeks, puh-lease,” he says, and you can hear the eyeroll in his voice, “I came prepared! This stuff is edible.” Of course it is!

“Can I try it?” Zero style points for your reaction – it’s a little too enthusiastic. As you turn slightly, you feel Mike’s hips grinding into your ass, and for the first time you notice he’s hard. How did he do such a good job at hiding that when he was literally sitting right on top of you?

Without thinking you stick your tongue out when his thumb comes within reach of it, and equally thoughtlessly, you suck it into your mouth, leaving Mike sitting there, wide-eyed and with open mouth, groaning softly as you swirl your tongue around his finger. He was right, the oil is edible. It tastes sweet, fruity… Like mango?

“Fuck, Sweetcheeks,” he moans, “do those skills transfer?” You can’t get mad at that – in fact, you have to try really hard not to laugh. When he pulls his hand back, you’re disappointed – which gets even worse when he turns you back onto your stomach, pressing his lips to your neck and whispers: “I wasn’t done with you.”

He continues where he left off, and just when you’re about ready to melt into the mattress under his touch, he moves down…

“Mike, this is not a back rub anymore,” you laugh when his hands move over your ass, squeezing everywhere they can reach. It still feels nice, but… No, just that. Feels nice, that’s all.

“I never said I was going to stop there.” His voice comes from further down than you think, and then he sinks his teeth into your ass cheek again. You moan loudly as Mike keeps working your lower back and ass. When he eventually moves even lower, to the back of your thighs, you clench your legs together. “Let me touch you,” he moans as he slowly kisses a trail over your ass and up your lower back.

“Are you going to tease me?” you ask softly.

“Relentlessly, I promise,” Mike chuckles while making his way back up. From there, he pays attention to your arms and hands – interesting and very relaxing to the point where…

“Mike, I’m going to doze off if you keep going,” you sigh, when it becomes obvious that your legs are getting the same treatment. Without thinking, you turn around when he sits at the foot of the bed, and he pulls both of your feet into his lap. The backrub was great, but this? “Wow,” you moan – loudly.

Mike takes his time with every part of your body, and you silently curse yourself for teasing him for being impatient. Nothing about him right now is even slightly impatient. Well. One thing about him is impatient… His girlfriend.

Finally – fucking finally – he lifts one of your legs onto his shoulder, placing soft, teasing kisses on your skin, from your ankle all the way to your thigh and then… He makes his way up your stomach and chest, until his lips are on yours again.

“No, Mike, this is unfair, go back down,” you whine in between kisses.

“Eh,” he mutters, “I – eh – I don’t…”

“You don’t what?” you ask. “Go down?” Slightly disappointing, but not a complete disaster, why is he acting so… shy and insecure?

“Yeah,” he sighs. “I’m sorry.” For a moment, you think that’s it, but then he lies down next to you, burying his face in your neck. “Remember the horrible bitch ex? She told me I was no good at it and shouldn’t bother doing it again, and I’ve never… I’m scared to fuck it up now, and also scared to tell anyone, so whenever I got with a girl after that, she thought I was an asshole for not eating her out and… Please don’t think I’m a jerk, please?”

“Mikey,” you say sternly, “I don’t think you’re a jerk. I want to punch that whore in the face, though.” He hums softly when you circle your fingers over his scalp. “If you ever want to try again, I’ll tell you what I like?”

#mike hellraiser #mike hellraiser fic #mike (hellraiser)#hellraiser mike #mike (hellraiser) x reader #hellraiser mike x reader #mikey x reader #henrycavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill characters

44 notes · View notes