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viennakarma · 4 months

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Say something (I'm giving up on you)

Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Summary: Your husband tells you the truth about Vegas, and it makes your perfect sandcastle crumble.

Word count: 6k

Tags: Female reader, established relationship, wife reader, reader is an architect, cheating, smut, mild somnophilia, mentions of pregnancy and children, very very angsty, no hea, not beta read

Relationships: Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Notes: To be honest, this is very personal and something I needed to get off my chest before going back to my WIPs lol. Sorry if it's rushed or something, I was just going with the flow. Feedback and opinions are appreciated xx

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Ending 1: moving on

Ending 2: forgiving

Ending 3: a secret third thing (blurb)

As soon as you got out of the shower, a robe on your body and a towel around your head, you noticed how Lewis was sitting there, looking somewhat defeated.

“Hey, I know this season wasn’t what you expected but I’m sure it will get better,” you muttered, noticing how he was down, you stood between his legs, holding his head, pushing his braids away from his face, “I’m hoping you’ll have a great car next year. I’ll put the kettle on, so we can drink a little tea.”

He didn’t answer as you pecked his lips and went downstairs. You had just turned the kettle on when Lewis came down too, stopping in the middle of the kitchen.

“I need to tell you something,” he started and you paused, waiting, “something happened in Vegas.”

You felt your heart accelerate, you didn’t like that tone, so instead of asking more, you just waited, holding your breath.

“I cheated.”

It’s like you were punched in the gut, and you gasped for air. Your eyes immediately teared up, but you held in, waiting for his next words. You held yourself up with both hands on the kitchen island, because your legs felt like they might just give in. You stared at him, numb. Waiting for it to be some sick and unfunny joke, but the guilt in his eyes was so real.

“It happened in Vegas, and it didn’t mean anything at all, and I’m so so sorry, I know I should never have done it, and I regret it. I love you so much, I never wanted to hurt you, please believe me, I’ll do anything for your forgiveness, whatever you want just say th-”

At that point you stopped listening, looking down at your hand sprawled on the countertop, the wedding band and the engagement ring you wore on top of it felt like they were burning, like a curse just about to ruin your perfect life.

Like a beautiful sandcastle crumbling under a big wave, your perfect life came crashing down, with a couple of words and one single decision that never came from you. Your plans, your dreams, your future that always had Lewis beside you now were turning to dust. And it hurt like fucking hell, like you were under the wreckage, something heavy compressing your chest leaving you to die an agonizing death.

Lewis walked up to you, trying to take your hand but you moved out of his reach, taking a step back.

“Please, just say something. Anything. Please, love. Scream at me, hit me, key my car, anything. Please, say something,” He begged you, and all you could feel was pain, a knot in your stomach as you walked away, numbly going back to your room, locking the door behind you because you could hear him coming after you.

You held your head, this feeling of despair gnawing your insides, and you pulled the wedding band and engagement ring out, leaving it at the bedside table. Your tears came down and you looked at the bed were you had made love on the night before, were you had fucked his brains out just because you wanted him to feel better, after being upset with how the season ended. He hid this information for more than a week, because you had been in Abu Dhabi with him for moral support. Crying, you pull off the bed sheets, leaving them on the floor when the knot in your stomach makes you too nauseous. Running to the bathroom, you puke your disgust away, crying and dry heaving after there was nothing left in your stomach.

You were going to leave your job next year because you two were planning to try for kids. You were going to dedicate yourself to finally writing your book. You were going to join him the whole season, to never leave his side, to go wherever he went. You were going to buy a place in his hometown too, to be close to his family whenever you two had the time. You had planned to have a baby in England, because of Lewis.

How after five years together, after two years of marriage you had crafted your life around his. How you’d drop everything to make him happy, because his happiness made you happy. He knew cheating was your only and strongest dealbreaker, you had told him countless times during your relationship, you had reminded him before the wedding too, and he had said he would never be interested in anyone else.

You pulled a towel from under the sink and sobbed into it. You could still hear his voice outside, muffled by the door. Going back to bed, you put your wedding band back again, staring at it as a token of your happiest years.

You cried yourself to sleep.

The next morning you woke up and did your morning routine in pain. It was like you had to live feeling the pulsating pain of a broken bone. As you opened the door, Lewis was sleeping on the hallway floor by the door. Avoiding him, you went to the kitchen, but you didn’t have the energy to cook anything, so you grabbed the key of one of his cars and left for a coffee shop.

Everything felt like an out of body experience, like you were in automatic mode, going with the flow, buying a muffin and a tea because that’s what you did every time. Greeting the waitress with a small smile, like always. The only difference was going back to the car instead of eating inside the cafe, and eating there, pushing food inside so you could have some resemblance of normalcy. Your phone had been ringing for the past thirty minutes non stop, the ringtone you had put specifically for him, the song you had your first dance in your wedding. You think about that Lewis, that man who would never do anything that could hurt you. The one with dreams and promises, the man who would say he wanted kids with you, the one who always had a description of the kids you would have. She’ll have your eyes and my hair, he would say, daydreaming, hopefully she’ll have your beautiful smile, Lew, you would add.

Driving around for a while, your phone on Do not disturb, you watched the streets of Monaco, bustling with people, locals and tourists, walking around, going to boutiques and cafés, and you noticed how Monaco had never been your first choice to live in. You would rather a place a little bit colder, with lots of libraries and historical places, with mountains and lakes.

You went back home hours later, and as soon as you got inside, you were faced with Lewis, pale and visibly worried, phone in hand.

“Oh my god, I was so worried! I thought- I thought you had left me- Where were you?”

“Driving” you kicked your shoes and went to the kitchen to drink water. After downing two full glasses, you went outside, sitting by the view of the city.

You painfully loved him, the kind of love you once were happy to let yourself dive in, and now you were drowning.

“Please, can we talk about it?” He asked, by the balcony door as if he were afraid to scare you away like a skittish animal. You nodded, and he carefully sat on the chair beside you. “Can we work on it? Do you think you may have it in your heart to forgive me?”

“I don’t know, Lewis, I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.”

“We can do marriage counseling, we can do anything you want, we can- we can move, buy another place, we can adopt a kitten, like you’ve always wanted, or we can renew our vows, I can gi-give you a pass, so we’ll be even-”

“I honestly don’t know how to fix this, Lewis. I’m not sure it’s even fixable.”

You two stared into the horizon, lost in thoughts.

“Give me a chance, and I’ll fix it, love. I’ll do everything in my power to fix it.”

“Tell me what happened,” you commanded, not looking at him.

“Love, please, don’t do this.”

“You want to fix this, right? Then start by telling me the whole truth.”

And he did. He told you who was, Kate-something, an influencer who had been a fling of his from the past, before you. They had met unexpectedly during the Vegas Grand Prix, she had been invited by some other team. He told you almost everything, leaving out details about the sex, but he told you everything else, and you listened, unmoved, only the tears falling down nonstop.

The next couple of days consisted of Lewis buying you things, food, jewelry, clothes and planning a trip for after the holidays. You slept in your room, and Lewis slept in the guest room, giving you space, to whenever you were comfortable to share a bed with him again. You had every meal together, sometimes he cooked, sometimes he had it delivered. You tried to engage in conversation, but in the end, Lewis was doing most of the talking. Chatting about news of his friends, about his team, about the plans for the trip.

As you sat in the office, you opened a drawer and picked up your resignation letter. You had left it written to hand it when you got back from the holidays. The letter was brief, thanking everyone for the opportunity to work at their company, thanking your boss for all the lessons and explaining you were leaving to become a homemaker. You scoffed at it now, ripping the letter in half and throwing it in the trash.

Maybe you needed to take a step back from everything. The plans and the dreams and the future. Maybe you just needed to give him a chance, you loved him so much, and this kind of love doesn’t go away with a snap of the fingers.

Maybe he was right and if you two started all over, maybe you could fix this.

“I know it might be too soon, but would you consider going on a date? Just like the old times,” he asked one morning a few days later, as you ate breakfast.

“Sure, Lewis.”

He nodded, and you knew he was feeling the way you didn’t call him love or honey anymore. He planned a date that same night. You dressed up to the nines, just to feel some normalcy, just to feel like yourself again. You had dressed in a black long sleeved dress, with some transparency in the sleeves, a black scarpin and you tied your hair in an elegant high ponytail and those bright red lipsticks Lewis liked.

He looked at you in wonder as you came down the stairs.

“You look stunning, my love.” He whispered, taking your hand and making you spin. You felt that spark in your stomach again, well, a little bit of that.

He took you to a two star restaurant, one you’d always go on date nights. He also drove you there in your favorite Mercedes. You decided to put in the effort, to make conversation, to engage with him the whole night. You ate, talked, laughed and drank a couple of wine glasses.

By the end of the night, you had felt a resemblance of normalcy again. When Lewis was picking the tab, you went to the toilet, and you saw a woman trying to change a baby’s diaper. She dropped the box of wet wipes, and you bent down to pick it.

“Thank you, lovely!” She said as you handed it back. You peeked at the baby, a little girl who couldn’t be older than a year.

“Hi there, princess!” You said with a baby voice.

“Can you keep an eye on her just as I pee quickly, I’m sorry to bother,” the mother asked.

“Don’t worry,” you said, carrying the baby she had just finished changing. As the woman entered the stall, you decided to ask, “How has it been, being a mom?”

“Oh, it’s amazing. Of course it’s not easy, but my husband has been a great help around the house and the baby. I couldn’t be happier!”

You looked to the mirror, the baby in your arms, and you imagined living this with Lewis. And you just couldn’t. Because he wouldn’t be there all the time anyway. He would be traveling the world, racing for his championship, you would follow him, but at some point you would have to stop, you would have to settle home the last trimester, and he wouldn’t be there. Would he miss your baby’s birth?

You wondered if he would cheat again when you weren’t there.

As you left the toilet, your mood had dwindled again.

Lewis noticed as you were quiet going home, head against the window, watching the city and mumbling the song playing in the car.

As you arrived home, you pushed Lewis against the sofa, he looked confused, but his eyes followed your hands as you pulled your dress up, bunching it around your hips so you could straddle his lap.

“Baby, I don’t think w-” he started talking, but you held his chin.

“Shut the fuck up,” you said, pressing your lips against his.

You kissed him like you were starved, showing him how much you missed him, how much you loved him. He let you guide the kiss, opening your mouth and entangling your tongues, your hips grinding on him. He whispered nonsense as he kissed your face and neck, I missed you so much, love, nibbling at your neck, I love you my baby, pulling your dress down to free your tits, sucking on your nipples, missed this, baby, you’re so fucking sexy, you ground on him, moving and moaning as his hand held your ass, guiding your movements. You were so wet, you missed his touch so much.

As you looked down, seeing his lips latched onto your nipple, your mind drifted, wondering if he touched the other woman like this, if he talked dirty to her like that.

And you were immediately turned off.

“Stop, stop,” you pushed him and he let you go easily, scrambling to the sofa and away from his lap, “red, red!” You shouted your safe word.

Breathless, Lewis nodded, as you quickly pulled the cups of your dress up, covering your boobs and pulled your dress down, eyes watering. He stared at you, confused and not knowing how to act. You two were very creative in the bedroom, but you only used the safe word a few times whenever you two were in the mood for some BDSM scenes, you had never used your safe word in a normal setting.

“Are you ok?” He asked, finally and you just shook your head.

“Was she better than me?” You asked, voice small and vulnerable.

“What? Baby, no, never! You’re my everything.” He sat by your side, but you stood up in wobbly legs, nervous.

You wanted to ask why, if you were enough, if you were everything, then why he felt the need to do it. Why would he throw away so many years, such a beautiful love story that you used to joke you would tell your grandkids about.

You started walking away, but Lewis ran up to you and blocked your path.

“Please, let’s talk it out,” He asked, eyes pleading. You stared at his lips, and something inside you just snapped.

“I don’t want to talk! FUCK!” You pushed past him, “I look at you and I can only picture you with her! I feel your hands on my body and I hate it because I can only think of you touching her, and kissing her and fucking making love to her! Look at us! Look at everything you ruined because you just couldn’t not get your dick wet! Because you couldn’t wait five fucking days for me!”

You tried not to sob, running a hand over your face.

“And you were perfect and I love you, and I hate myself for loving you because I don’t trust you! I keep thinking that if one day I miss the flight to your race, will you cheat again? If- if I have to work and you suddenly feel lonely, will you cheat again? If we fight for some reason, will you cheat again?”

“We can fix this, we go to counseling or-

“FIX WHAT? I didn’t break anything! Because I love you so much that the idea of lying with another man disgusts me! You broke my heart, our home and our future!”

He was crying too when you looked at him.

You took the keys to his car and slipped away, driving around, trying to clear your head. Deep down you wished you could forgive and forget, you wished you could get over that mistake, but now everything around the house reminds you of his mistake.

You lost control of the car and crashed against a tree. It wasn’t a big crash, even though the hood of the car looked totalled. You called someone to take the destroyed car away, and you took an Uber to the hospital, just to make sure you didn’t hit your head too hard. In the hospital, they put a bandaid on the small cut and you held an ice pack above the swelling in the side of your forehead, they also gave you a few pills for the pain and possible headache.

You went back home hours later, and Lewis was waiting by the living room.

“Where were-” he stopped short, seeing the small cut on your forehead, “oh, god, what happened?”

“I crashed your car, I’m sorry. It wasn’t a big deal, I’m ok,” you walked into the kitchen to take one of the pills for the incoming headache.

“What? Why didn’t you call me?” Lewis followed you.

“It wasn’t a big deal,” you repeated calmly.

“Are you kidding me? You’re bleeding!”

“I’m not, it was just a small piece of glass that grated my forehead, but I’m ok, it doesn’t really hurt,” you muttered, wanting to go to sleep, “I’m sorry about your car, I’ll pay to get it fixed.”

“I don’t give a fuck about the car! I’m worried about you!” He came closer, holding your face with both hands, looking around for any more injuries.

You stared at his face, his eyes that had been such a source of happiness and unconditional love were now painful to see. Handsome still, but you couldn’t see him as yours anymore. You took his hands off you gently.

“I’m ok. I’ll pay for your car.” You reinforced, taking a step back.

“Our car, love. You’re my wife. And you don’t have to pay for it.” He corrected you, but you couldn’t feel anything.

Because the car was his. All the cars were his. The house was his, too. The dog was his. The properties. Everything belonged to him. You belonged to him the whole time. And now you just didn’t anymore.

You had signed a prenup before the wedding, which had been an idea that came from Lewis’ lawyer. Your husband had been angrily against it, but you didn’t mind signing it, because it was never about the money. Even upset signing the prenup, Lewis still took all of your expenses, bills, house and cars, and everything else. There was a cheating clause on that document, one you never bothered to read or memorize because cheating was never on your mind.

A couple of days later you had barely said a word to him, and you were having breakfast when he approached you.

“I’ll call mum later, to tell her we’re not going to her birthday dinner,” Lewis informed you.

“No, we’re going. We’re not going to spoil her celebration because of our problems,” you shook your head.

So you went to dinner at his mom’s. Everyone was there and you brought her a gold necklace with a peony pendant, since it was her favorite flower. You and Lewis tried to pretend nothing was wrong as to not ruin the mood of the night. You still sat by his side, ate and talked with everyone. Lewis knew you were faking being ok, because your smiles didn’t reach your eyes anymore, and every time he tried any physical touch like holding hands, putting a hand on your shoulder or pulling you to his lap, your body would tense up, so he would let go of you.

By then end of the night, you were pretty sure everyone had believed your act, but when Carmen asked for help with taking her presents upstairs, you knew she knew too.

“What is going on, love? You’re not your usual self today.”

You felt your eyes filling up and you couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. You adored Carmen, you adored Lewis’ family, his siblings, his parents and his nephews and nieces. But Carmen had become a second mum to you from the beginning, being the first person to welcome you with open arms.

“Talk to me, dear,” she asked and the kindness in her voice made you cry even more, sobbing so much she had to hug you holding you tight.

“This is probably the last time we’ll see each other as family, Carmen,” you warned her, and her face crumbled just like yours did.

“No… No, honey, what happened?” She asked, and you shook your head.

“You talk to him later, and I’m sure he will tell you whenever he’s ready,” you muttered, not wanting to meddle in a mother-son relationship, not wanting to poison it. You pulled the engagement ring from your finger, the beautiful engraved jewel, that had belonged to Carmen's family for generations, had ended up with you, and you had expected to pass it down to a kid you’d have with Lewis. You gave the ring back to her.

“For when he finds the one.”

“No, you’re the one for him, honey,” she exclaimed, teary eyed.

“I wish I was, but I’m not,” you stared longingly at the ring sitting on the palm of her hand.

“One day he will need it again, and he will find someone and you’ll love her just as much. I’ll be just the distant past, but I hope you save a little space in your heart for me, yeah?” You laughed a little bit, wiping the tears on your cheeks. She only nodded, her own tears falling down. “Thank you for taking me in all these years, for embracing me into your family, I’m very grateful for that.”

You two cried a little more, and you tried to mask your crying face after a few minutes in the bathroom.

In the end, unfortunately, Lewis' family convinced you to stay the night since it would be a long drive back to Lewis’ place in London. You ended up sharing a bed for the first time since he admitted to cheating. You laid there with your back turned to him in the dark.

You couldn’t sleep for a couple of hours, but he did. When you turned back around, you stared at his beautiful face. Your dreamy, handsome husband. You softly traced imaginary lines in his face, tracing his eyebrows and nose, the tip of your finger running over his lips and cupids’ bow. How could you love someone so deeply and still not want to be with them? How could you not just put everything behind?

He knew you so well, he knew of you past of being cheated on, of going through abusive relationships. He knew where you draw the lines. He knew your limitations and still went ahead with cheating on you.

You got up from the bed, you went to the small armchair, opening your iPad to try and watch a movie or something to help you sleep. But as you unlocked it, the tab open was the project you had made for the family home you and Lewis were going to build for when you had kids. The finished project hit you like a punch in the gut.

You went inside the bathroom and took a break. It was the middle of the night, and everyone was asleep, so you just sat on the closed toilet to try and calm down the aching pain in your chest. When you came back, Lewis was awake going through your iPad you had left unlocked.

“What’s- What’s this?”

“It’s the project for our home, I was going to gift it to you on your birthday,” you whispered, sitting by his side on the floor, your backs to the bed.

Lewis sniffled, and you didn’t look at his face because you didn’t want to see him cry. He kept looking at the project, going page after page, seeing all the details you had thoughtfully put there. He started crying even harder when he saw the nurseries you had designed. When he saw the tennis court, because you and him loved playing with his dad, and talked countless times about teaching your kids to play. When Lewis saw the big kitchen with the panel wall where you could place pictures and drawings and notes. When he saw the sunroom, with toys and your small library, and Lewis’ videogames. All the tidbits you and him had dreamed about during your five years relationship.

“We can’t let this all go, love” he said between soft cries.

“God, I hate metaphors,” you whispered, drying the tears that came down, “but we’re a broken mirror, Lewis. We can try and fix it, and glue all the pieces back together, but the cracks will still be there.”

“I don't know how I messed up this badly, I don’t even know why-” he set the iPad down, staring at his hands, “I’m so sorry, so so sorry.”

You only nodded, getting up. You went back to bed, laying under the covers.

“I know,” you whispered after a few minutes. He came back to bed too, laying beside you without touching you.

“The project is beautiful. I love it.” He muttered staring at the ceiling.

“I do too.”

When you left his mom’s house, with a tight goodbye hug with Carmen, Lewis had to go to Brackley for work and you went back to Monaco.

You thought you may have a chance to fix everything. But as the days he was away passed, you started to wonder if he went to England to really work. If he wasn’t going to meet someone, the Kate-something, or any other of his flings from the past. If he even was in Brackley as he said he was.

The trust was gone.

As if it wasn’t bad enough as it was, the lady, Kate-something texted you. You had no idea how she got your number, and the text read:

“Ask your husband what he did after the Las Vegas GP.”

You scoffed, thinking she was a little late for a shocking revelation. You screenshotted the text just in case and blocked her number after, without bothering to let Lewis know about it.

You were one foot out of the door already.

The dreaded day came when you met with a lawyer, a big shot famous lawyer who always worked with famous people when they wanted a low profile divorce. She was very respectful of all your wishes, though with the small fortune you were going to pay for her services, being polite and helpful was the least she could do. She drafted a divorce agreement following all your requirements, especially in regards to the prenup.

The next few days, you read and reread the divorce papers, leaving them in the locked drawer in your office.

When Lewis came back from the Mercedes factory, it was night and you were having a glass of wine by the balcony.

“Want a nightcap?” You offered your glass to him. He nodded, taking a sip off the half full glass, “how was work?”

He told you about all the work in the factory, going to dinner with his teammate and meeting with his boss. It was almost like before, for a few minutes it was just a regular day in your married life. Lewis helped you put everything away in the kitchen and you went upstairs.

When he was about to go into the guest room, you stopped him.

“Lewis,” you asked and he looked at you hopefully, “can you sleep with me tonight?”

“Whatever you want, love.”

So you settled in for sleep, both of you going through your nightly routine, and finally, laying in bed. You took the initiative to cuddle him, nose against his neck, inhaling his scent and your ear above his heart.

You slept great for the first time since you were in separate beds. But you woke up in the middle of the night. And the way the little lampshade by the bedside table lit up the side of his face, peacefully asleep, handsome and yours. Fully yours still.

You couldn’t help the small kiss on his chest, above his heart, the other kiss on his cheek, and a third one on his neck, that had him waking up.

“Baby?” Lewis looked at you. You kissed his lips, open mouthed, sloppy and desperate.

“Shh,” you kissed his chest again, now he was fully awake, surrendered under your touch. You straddled him, your body missing him so much, his touch and his love, and the twilight making everything feel like before, you couldn’t help but desire him with burning passion.

“Love,” he stopped you, holding your jaw softly, “are you sure?”

“Please, just be mine tonight, yeah?” You asked him in a small voice.

“I’m yours forever, love.”

And so you drowned in him, one last time. You tossed your pajamas away, as he sat up in the bed, kissing your neck down, biting softly at your nipples, taking it painfully slow just in case you changed your mind. You ground against him, his cock hard under your ministrations. You pulled his pants down, and he kicked it to the floor, as you slid your cunt over his length, dripping over him, moaning loud and hearing his groans as his hands settled on your hips, letting you take control, doing whatever you wanted.

You got on your knees just so you could line him up at your entrance, pushing down slowly, letting him stretch you well, your body accommodating him perfectly like it should always be. And so you started riding him, slowly at first, but then you pounded him into the mattress, fucking him into oblivion. His hands were all around, pinching your nipples, gripping your waist and slapping your ass the way he knew drove you crazy. He fingered your clit, making you cum around his cock shamelessly fast, hips shaking and cunt gripping him tight.

“Can- oh, fuck,” he asked after a particularly hard clench of your dripping cunt, “-Can you give me one more, my baby?”

Then, he changed positions, laying you by his side, hugging you with one arm and using the other to lift your leg so he could have room to fuck you slow, lazy and nice, pressing your g-spot again and again. He smothered your lips with his tongue and teeth, stealing your moans, as your hands pressed his body into yours. You wanted to melt into him, to leave fingerprints and nail marks all over him. You wanted him to have a permanent indentation of your body pressed to his.

Selfishly, you wanted him to never forget you. To be a part of him in the forever he promised you. Even if you won’t be there.

“Look at me,” he asked, and you opened your eyes to meet his dark molten embers so full of love that it threatened to suffocate you, “you’re the only woman for me. You’re my everything.”

He picked up the pace a little, going harder, until he had you gushing around him, making a mess of your sheets and milking him until he was groaning, hips stuttering into release.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so good. Feel so good for me,” he murmured into the dark, “I love you so so much.”

You two hugged back to sleep.

In the morning you showered, brushed your teeth and changed. You stopped in the middle of the room, staring at Lewis’ sleeping form. In the closet you packed a bag, putting clothes and shoes on it, then you grabbed your iPad, laptop and work stuff, then you called a taxi and waited.

You left the divorce agreement on the kitchen island, alongside your wedding band, your lawyer’s contact information and a small note. You were crying as you got into the taxi, leaving behind the future plans you had hoped to live.

It took you a couple of months to get your shit together. You spent Christmas with your family only for the first time in years, and you didn’t travel for New Year’s Eve with Lewis as planned, you didn’t resign from your job, instead opting for a relocation so you could move away.

Finding a new place in Scotland was relatively easy considering you had a good amount of savings because Lewis always paid all the bills, you found a place where you could dedicate yourself to work and to write your book and to heal.

•

Lewis found the house empty that next morning. You had made love to him again, and he thought that maybe you two could salvage the marriage. But as he looked for you around the house, he found the divorce agreement in the kitchen. His stomach dropped as he held your wedding band, and the other hand found your note.

“Seems like I’m a coward too, since I can’t face you to say goodbye. Take this divorce agreement to your lawyer, and any questions you might have, please forward it to my lawyer, she’ll explain everything. I love you, but I don’t trust you. And nothing good can be built in a trustless marriage. The next time you find a good one, don’t break her heart.”

He cried like a baby, going over your divorce agreement that was signed by you. You had given up everything, you didn’t want anything of his, not any cars or property, not any financial support, not even the house that had your name on it too. You voided the prenup, stating that you didn’t want the alimony that came with the cheating clause. Looked like a clean break, like you didn’t want anything that could tie you to Lewis.

He tried calling you and texting you, but seemed like you had blocked him on everything. He went through the motions, meeting with your lawyer who, despite the fame of being tough, was really kind to him. He told your lawyer that he wanted you to take the alimony that came with the cheating clause because it was only fair, and he wouldn’t sign the divorce if you didn’t accept the money.

So after a few weeks, Lewis' lawyer got in contact to tell him you accepted the money, as long as he would sign the divorce as soon as possible. By the New Year, you were officially a divorced couple.

•

You got settled on your new home by the end of the first month of the year, three weeks after the divorce was finalized. You moved to a little north of Edinburgh, not too far from the city, but far enough that you could have some sense of peace and privacy.

You still had a tan line on your ring finger of the left hand.

You only realized your period was late the week later, as you were doing grocery shopping and house supplies, and you noticed you haven’t got your period for a while. Despite being a grown woman, worker and independent, you felt shaky fingers as you took a pharmacy test.

While you waited, you stayed in front of the mirror. You had felt a bit of nausea, but you attributed it to stress and disgust, and you had been feeling tired but you thought it was because of the moving and all the paperwork. You ran your palm over your stomach, trying to feel something, but it felt so normal.

When the time’s up and you leaned over the sink to check the result, you sighed reading the 8 - 10 weeks pregnant.

“That’s ok, baby,” you whispered, teary eyed, “we’re gonna be ok.”

Ending 1: moving on

Ending 2: forgiving

Ending 3: a secret third thing (blurb)

#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fic #formula 1 #formula one #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton +18 #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton x reader #Spotify

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uglyducklingofthe2000s · 11 months

Text

I Ruin Everything - Charles Leclerc

Summary: Insecurities can strike at any time in any form. So when y/n broke up with Charles because of her own insecurities, she never could’ve known she’d cause insecurities for him.

Sad boy Charles activated. Reader gonna be grovelling.

Themes: Break up (and aftermath), a bit of angst-ish?

Side pairing: Best friends/platonic!Max Verstappen x reader (we’re also going to say he’s single. Bye Kelly)

February

“I don’t understand.”

That was really the last response y/n was hoping for. But all the responses she was hoping for had no chance of being actually being what he said. Complete acceptance of the ending of a year long relationship out of nowhere (at least form his perspective) was never going to be taken with open arms and warm smile. She almost wishes he was angry and shouting at her, it’d hurt but at least she could walk away knowing he doesn’t want her around because she did this.

“We can work through this. I can help.” Charles states making her chest ache in a way that almost makes her sick.

“No, we can’t. I don’t want this anymore and I’m not willing to drag you down when you have more important things going on...This is it, Charles.” Y/n murmurs before swallowing thickly. “I’m so sorry to do this to you. But it’s better this way, ok?”

“No. Not ok.”

“You can’t stop this. It’s over.” Y/n states shaking her head before she smiles weakly and swallows at the sight of tears gathering in his eyes.

“I love you, how many times have I got to say it for you to understand I will stay?”

“It doesn’t matter how many times you say it. You can’t make me stay.”

Y/n swallows thickly then standing, holding herself steady despite feeling like she could collapse.

-----

May

As if a break up before the season didn’t sting enough, the car isn’t half as good as the car they had last year and it’s showing in Charles’ performance and points.

He’s shut out those who would usually be leaned on in the moments he struggles more and no one can get him to open up.

“He needs you, y/n.” Andrea states through the phone.

“No, whatever he’s going through. The last thing he needs is me to come and make it even worse. Andrea, I can’t.” Y/n sniffles hating that she now knows the online coverage and small clips of him in interviews are genuinely reflective of his emotions.

It was easy to talk herself into believing that he was better without her. Now all she wants to do is be there with him, to cling onto him. In truth, she needs him more than he needs her but maybe they need each at the base of it all.

“The next race is home in Monaco. He’s there now. Will you be leaving the country just to not be reminded of him.”

“Andrea.” Y/n mumbles earning a sigh.

“Think about it. Think about him.”

Three months and that’s all she’s thought about. Day and night, Charles and regret clouds her thoughts like she’s stuck on a boat in an endless storm.

“That’s all I think about, Andrea.”

The line cuts and Andrea curses knowing that his attempt to help his friend might have just made things head toward reconciliation or cemented that they will never reunite.

It’s obvious there was something wrong with y/n, even after the break up. Charles still hasn’t shut up about his theories, what he must’ve done to mess things up or what triggered the break up. Because still today, he doesn’t understand.

---

Showing up and shocking Charles isn’t an option when it comes to the Monaco race. She wants to wait until after. Either to congratulate, or as previously for every Monaco race he’s been in, consoling him.

On this occasion, she had hopes of a redemption. They just needed to clean up on last year and then they could finally see him on a podium in Monaco. It didn’t even need to be a win. But, yet again, it didn’t happen.

Actually the moment the race finished, y/n had to wipe tears away for him. The penalty made it obvious the podium was out of reach unless at least 2 or 3 in front of him crashed out of the race.

She found her way to the after party hunting through the crowds for Charles in hopes of helping but the moment she sees him. It’s already obvious it’s just too late for her. But on her way out she does bump into the winner of the date, having to stop and congratulate him.

“Y/n!” Max exclaims with a drunk laugh, he’s easily on his last legs and falls onto his old rival’s ex-girlfriend. “We haven’t seen you here for so long. Where have you been?”

Max actually introduced y/n and Charles, her and Max were friends for years before hand. Nearly even dated when he first came to Formula 1 when he was 17. But after one night together, it was decided they were the right fit as just close friends.

“I uhh...I’ve been home.” Y/n laughs trying to hold up his weight but struggling till Daniel thankfully comes over and pulls the drunk dutchman off of her. “Thanks Daniel.”

“No problem.” Daniel nods with his bright grin before he looks over at Charles.“Did you speak to him?”

“Oh uhh...no but I mean he’s got someone, clearly I’m not needed.” Y/n smiles before Max tosses himself forward on her shouting that she needs a hug but it lands them both on the floor before Daniel can save her. “Max.”

“He misses you, we all see it.” Max whispers to his friend. “Celebrate with me if you don’t want to be there with him.”

“Will you get off me if I say yes?”

---

“Ok champion, let’s get you to bed.” Y/n laughs stumbling, they’re both pretty drunk and she is. Well in the best mood she remembers being in.

“Charles...Charles he loves you so much, y/n. He loves you and you love him.” Max slurs, the concern more for y/n than for Charles but he can see they’re both miserable.

“He’s moved on, Max.” Y/n whispers struggling not to cry. “It hurts.”

“I know.”

His hand links to y/n before they both pass out for the night on his bed. Not even having taken their shoes.

Morning rolls around at an unwelcome speed, y/n is in a cold sweat and the journey from Max’s bed to the toilet isn’t one she can recollect. Only waking up with her head on the pillow and then suddenly it leaning over the toilet bowl. All The alcohol reappearing in an unforgiving fashion.

“I have to go. But ah, thanks for last night. I think I needed some bestie time.” Y/n smiles lightly, moving to hug Max who holds her tightly.

“Go see him, y/n. You’re not so much of a fuck up that you’re really going to let him date some rebound over you.” Max instructs making her sigh as she breaks the hug. “Do it now, you look like shit. He’ll take more pity on you.”

Always trust Max to deliver sentiment with some harsh true.

“Thanks, I really needed to hear that.”

“I say it with love, obviously.” Max grins, not really looking so well in himself either. “You can fix it with him, he wants you to fix it. Don’t be stupid and lose him like that.”

After a goodbye and walking around Monaco. Y/n does find herself at Charles’ door, feeling like she’s still got some liquid courage in her.

It takes a few minutes before she rings the doorbell and prays that it’s not the girl he was with who answer.

“Bonjour?”

“It’s me, uhh...Y/n. Can we talk?”

The only response is the buzzer to open the door before she swallows thickly and steps in. Making her way up to his door and sighing when she knocks, waiting for a reply.

Only months ago, she had a key. She could let herself in without a second thought about it.

Charles appears, letting her in with a sad expression that she feels eating her up with guilt already. Walking in she has to force back tears.

“You spent the night with Max.” Charles states before she can properly get anything out. But in fairness her silence may have been speaking louder volumes than she was. “Now you’re here, why?”

“I made a mistake. A huge, painful mistake that hurt you and you always deserved better than that.” Y/n admits before she hugs herself, lip quivering till she bites it harshly. “I wanted to see you last night, but when I got there you were with a girl and I didn’t want to be that ex girlfriend.”

“So you show up the next day instead?” Charles laughs dryly while she feels the jab of his words in her chest. “So what are you here for?”

“A second chance? But mainly to apologise.” Y/n states then blinking a few times. “I saw some comments about me-I tried not to look any anything negative. Block everything, but it felt like it was one thing after another and they were right. You did everything, they were right when they said I took you for granted.”

“I told you I’d stay with you and work on it. So you didn’t want to change?” Charles frowns making her wince.

“I was wrong. Charles please. Please. I’ll haven’t gone a minute without wishing I could take back that moment.” Y/n rambles then rubbing at her arms. “I can go if this is just hurting you more...But I’d like it if you’d let me stay.”

Y/n knows it’s going to be a case of building back up to having his trust, but she’ll do whatever she has to.

“I don’t want you to go, y/n. I never did. But you left.”

“I won’t leave again. Ever. Fucking hell, I’ll glue myself to you and only let you leave when you have to race.” Y/n tries wishing she had never caused the damage to do this. “Charles?”

“Promise not to leave again.” Charles murmurs nearing her which gives her the ok to move closer to him too.

“I promise. Fuck Charles. I promise. I swear, you can cuff me to the bed if I’m ever this stupid again.” Y/n rambles frowning and shaking her head before he’s finally closed the space and cupped her face to force her to look at him. “I promise.”

“Good...and I could get used to you saying you are wrong a bit more.” Charles grins before kissing her like he’s just been given life support. “I will cuff you if you try to leave again. Whether it’s considered legal or not.”

“I feel like if it’s consensual in bed then usually the police are inclined to stay out of it.” Y/n smiles earning an eye roll before his hands move down to hold her waist.��“I would offer more than a kiss but honestly, I’m too hungover and you should just be happy Max had a spare toothbrush because otherwise you would’ve tasted last night’s drinks as well.”

“That’s ok, I don’t feel that great either. Another very bad home race.”

“You didn’t actually do that badly...you didn’t lose any position from where you started.”

“I didn’t gain any either.”

“Always so negative. It wouldn’t be so bad to give yourself credit when it’s due.”

“See, that’s why I do need you. You always did that for me. You are the positive and I am the negative. But it can work the other way if you tell me when you are feeling negative.”

“Easier said than done.”

“Then we’ll work on it, yes?”

“Yes...but hangover and bruised ego from Monaco race recovery first.” Y/n smiles before swallowing thickly.

“I’ve hated sleeping alone the most so come on, we are going to bed. I need to finally sleep and actually feel like I am rested.”

“Glad I’m not the only one who had disturbed sleep from it. I thought I was going crazy.”

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fanfic #formula 1 #f1 #leclerc #max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #fanfic #charles #charles leclerc imagine #break up

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lnfours · 6 months

Text

tolerate it | l.n

summary: if it’s all in my head, tell me now. tell me i’ve got it wrong somehow.

warnings: happy folklore/evermore season :) angst, language, fears of your partner falling out of love with you, slight anxiety and overthinking, fluffy ending bc i can’t make them stay mad at each other. kinda wanna do an evermore/folklore mini series, let me know if you guys would be interested <3

masterlist | listen

₊‧°𐐪♡𐑂°‧₊

the colder weather meant the sun was starting to set earlier, and it was evident as you gazed out the window, sitting at the dining room table. the candle you had lit an hour or so ago flickering softly, illuminating the room with a soft glow as the gloomy sky hovered above.

you sighed to yourself, taking another sip from the wine glass that sat next to your plate. you tapped on your phone screen, lighting up and displaying the time and the picture you had set as your lock screen. the 5:30 hovering tauntingly above the picture of you and lando from a few months back, your smile wide and trying to hide it in his shoulder as he held his camera to the mirror. he was sporting a smile also, you could almost hear your shared giggles through the photo.

he was supposed to be home an hour ago, and nights like this were happening more often. he’d always be an hour to an hour and a half late getting home. it was always an apology, saying ‘training ran late’ or the quadrant shoot ‘ran on longer than it was supposed to’, you’d see him for fifteen minutes while the two of you ate dinner, and then he’d go off to the office until he decides to join you in bed later in the night.

at first, you didn’t complain, knowing he was a man with a busy schedule, but after almost two months of this same song and dance, your anxiety was getting the best of you.

what if he was out with someone else? what if he was slowly losing interest in you? what if he just tolerates you?

the sound of the door closing pulled you from your thoughts, snapping your head up as you heard footsteps enter the room. he placed his keys, wallet and phone on the counter, frowning softly.

“sorry i’m late,” here we go again, “i told max i needed to be home by 4 and he insisted we played another round before i left.”

you nodded, taking another sip from the glass on your right, “‘s fine.”

he watched you swallow thickly, tilting your head to look back out the window. he noticed the way your hand tapped against your arm softly, his eyes moving to the plates set on the table. your grandmother’s china.

his heart dropped when he thought back to your conversation the other night, him saying the two of you would have a proper sit down meal tonight since he felt bad for running late lately.

and he just fucked it all up even more.

“you don’t have to lie,” he said, making you advert your attention back to him, “i know you know it’s not fine.”

you shook your head, “what’s it matter to you, anyway?”

he knew he deserved the digs and jabs you were sending his way, “seriously, lando, if you’re not interested in me anymore just say it instead of making me play this stupid game.”

the silence that fell between the two of you after was the final blow. he watched your cheeks glisten in the soft candle light, and fuck, he hated seeing you cry. especially when it was because of him.

he didn’t know what to say as your chair scraped the floor, getting up from your spot at the table and picking up your plate. the food untouched as you grabbed the saran wrap from the pantry.

he heard your quiet sniffle, “i’m so sorry, y/n-“

“then where have you been the past two months?” he blinked back at you before you continued, “every single day it’s the same, overused excuse. so, what is it really, lando? enlighten me.”

he swallowed because he didn’t have answer that didn’t sound like he was making an excuse. he really had been busy with work, but he knew he could’ve done better with planning to make more time for you and him.

you knew he loved you with every fiber of his being, but you were upset. you were angry and sad and all you wanted was for him to come home and spend time together like the two of you used to do. but it was like it was too much to ask for.

of course you knew what you were signing up for when he took you on your very first date, but you didn’t know it would mean being put on the back burner, begging to be let in on the things going on his life.

his silence made you nod, “right,”

he reached out to you slowly, not sure how you would react. you bit down on your bottom lip, the dam breaking now as he stepped towards you.

“y/n,” he said your name softly, understanding that your lash-outs were because of men who had hurt you in the past, knowing too well what it felt like when anxiety and over thinking takes over. he couldn’t be mad at you, he just wanted to make things right. make you feel reminded that he loved you. more than racing, more than his friends, more than anything in the whole world.

the back of your hands were raised to your eyes when he grabbed them and pulled you closer to him, letting your body rest against his chest. you gave in, knowing that at the end of the day, he was your safe place. your shoulder to cry on, the one who always saw you in your most vulnerable stages. there was no getting past him with this one.

your hands wrapped around his middle loosely as you cried softly into his chest. he rested his head against yours, rubbing your back the same way he always did whenever he’d comfort you. his lips pressed against your hair before he grabbed your face gently, lifting your chin to have you look at him.

he wiped the tears from your cheeks, eyes searching yours and that’s when you realized he had been crying too, “i’m gonna talk to my trainer and the guys and tell them i need a little bit of a break, and you and i are gonna spend every single day together doing whatever you want.”

you felt selfish now, “but this is your job, lan,”

“i don’t care,” he said, shaking his head as he moved his hand to hold your cheek, “they’ll be fine if i take a few days off.”

your hand came up to mimic his on your cheek, your fingers brushing against the small moles on his face. the same ones your lips press against whenever you kiss his face. the pads of your thumbs brushed away the small tear lingering around his nose.

“i’m sorry,” you apologized, feeling guilty for being cold to the boy who loved you like no other.

“don’t apologize,” he said, “i should’ve done better. you don’t deserve to feel like you’re on the back burner of my life.”

you wrapped your arms around his neck as his snaked around your waist, pulling you closer as if it was even possible. you looked back out the window, the light from the golden hour sun shining on the trees in the backyard. he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, “i love you.”

you smiled softly, pulling back to meet his gaze. your smile making his lips turn up into one mirroring yours, “i love you, too.”

he leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips, a mixture of the wine you had with dinner and the salty tears you had cried a few moments prior with the subtle hint of your chapstick.

you both pulled away, him taking you by surprise when he lifted you off the ground. you squealed, a soft giggle escaping your lips as you clung onto his hoodie for dear life.

“lando!” you laughed, letting him carry you to the couch and thanking yourself for putting his dinner plate in the fridge earlier.

you had your boy back.

#lando norris x reader imagine #lando norris x reader fluff #lando norris imagine #lando norris fluff #lando norris x reader #lando norris #ln4 fluff #ln4 imagine #ln4 #ln4 x reader #mclaren formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 x reader #formula one #f1 #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #mclaren f1

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updownlately · 6 months

Text

as long as i’m here (no one can hurt you)

| alessia x reader | hurt/comfort | 3.1k | disclaimer: mentions of anxiety & self loathing -this gets dark so please read at your own discretion! | a/n: based of this req! initially was supposed to be really fluffy but then somehow it just became 2/3 angst soooo welp. honestly it started off really strong imo but idk what happened towards the end, but oh well. not proofread as usual. anyways, take care amigos, happy reading!

~~~

Your heart’s in your throat and you don’t know how it got there.

Your heart’s in your throat and the world around you’s dark.

Your heart’s in your throat and you don’t know where you are.

All you know is you’ve gotta go- you’ve gotta go fast- because if you stay any longer, the voices are going to catch up.

They’re going to catch up and they’re going to tell you- no scratch that- they’re going to remind- they’re going to remind you that aren’t good enough.

They’re going to remind you that there’s better, that there always will be someone smarter, more athletic, more confident, more outgoing, more fun.

They’re going to remind you that none of this is real- convince you that everything is just fake. That you’ve lost your mind enough to devise your own reality, where nothing exists yet everything is perfect.

They’re going to remind you that you aren’t worthy. That you’ve fluked your way through life- everything gifted to you, everything undeserved.

It’s the way it always goes. You running and running and running, only stopping either when the voices catch up or when you wake up, and if you were honest, you don’t know which one you prefer.

It’s not that you’d be dead, nor is it that you didn’t want to be alive.

It’s that you don’t know how you could explain to the sleeping girl beside you that even with every second you lay asleep, the voices in your head don’t cease.

That each time she comforts you as you wake, shirt damp with sweat, shuddering breath escaping your lips, the words get louder in your mind.

And with each circle rubbed into your back, or reassuring word mumbled against your tangled hair, you think about how she could do better, better than you, better than this mess of troubling dreams, this mess of tangled voices, nonexistent but real to you, shouting, screaming, yelling, reminding you, telling you, letting you know.

You aren’t good enough, nor will you ever be.

She deserves better, better than you.

You’re a fraud, a fake, a phony.

The words repeat and repeat and repeat.

~~~

It’s the third time this week, and it’s only Wednesday, that you wake up, heart racing, palms sweating as you try and regulate your uneven breaths.

It’s new to you, this whole nightmare thing.

You’d even go as far as to call yourself a lucky child, able to count on one hand how many nightmares you had when you were younger.

Now? Now though, it’s a miracle if you sleep through the night.

You don’t know when it started- maybe sometime between the middle of last season and its end- when all you saw attached to your name was negative chatter.

Flooding comments on social media calling you unreliable, unworthy, unneeded for your team.

Offhand remarks of how you could’ve played better, could’ve done more, didn’t deserve a starting position, maybe would be better as a late sub, for the sake of the team.

Maybe it was when you spent countless hours post practices perfecting your free kicks and running shots, only to be told to not take them as much, the dismissing tone in your coach’s voice clear, disapproval clear in their eyes.

Words said and said and said, their intent to hurt, to prick, to wound successful.

It was those words that rang out in your dreams, among the thousands of other outcries you were used to having directed your way.

You thought you could take it, firmly believed so.

You were a professional athlete for fuck’s sake, a little bit of verbal battering was nothing you couldn’t handle, right?

At least that’s what you told yourself each time you woke up in cold sweat, mind exhausted, heart tired as you tried to remind yourself those opinions weren’t facts.

As usual, it led you to now.

Now being you stiffly lying on your side of the bed, the room bathed in darkness, only the sound of Alessia’s soft snores to be heard.

Swallowing hard, you shuddered as fragments of your latest nightmare floated through your mind.

This one was different from the usual.

This one might have even been the worst.

The nightmare had started off as they typically do, the realistic image of the team’s pitch clear in your mind.

It seemed to be a replay of a normal game day.

Arsenal dressed in their bright red jerseys, your opponents in a shade of blur, all the same but unidentifiable- not like it mattered much anyways- you didn’t need much convincing to feel how real it seemed.

It felt like a normal game day, but you saw yourself in third person, following yourself on the pitch like a drone, able to see each mistake you made so sharply, so distinctly.

You watched in horror as you tripped over your feet. Your heart dropped as you passed the ball directly to the other team. You’re nearly in tears watching as each tackle you made either did nothing or nearly took out the opposing player.

You looked on in fear as the crowd begged for you to be subbed off.

Your own home crowd, cheering any time you lost the ball, any time you slipped and fell, any time you erred.

As much as it hurt each time the dream played out, this was normal to you.

You were used to this.

Used to the sinking feeling in your stomach. The flips it would do as you felt your heart break, the realization that maybe you just didn’t matter, the thought that you didn’t need to exist floating through your mind as your throat closed up.

The sinking feeling as you realized you were unwanted was nothing new.

The knowledge that you just weren’t good enough was basically a mantra ingrained in your mind.

So even though it hurt as if it was new each time, you were used to it.

This was normal, no matter how many times it occurred, night in night out, it had become a part of you.

What wasn’t normal though, was how the game faded away slowly for once, a new environment blurring into your vision, the once typical dream changing drastically.

You tried to shake your head in your mind, very much disoriented at the unfamiliar setting.

You weren’t at the field anymore. The green grass you were always so used to seeing, the one that haunted you now in real life, gone within seconds.

Instead, in its place, was a dark atmosphere, bright lights flashing occasionally as you felt vibrations hum through you rhythmically.

Hearing laughter coming from your left, you whipped your head to the side.

Mere metres away from you stood the rest of your team, all dressed to enjoy a night out, drinks cradled in their hands.

You were at a club.

Chest constricting as you watched the girls peer over at you, then laugh, you felt your face flush, embarrassment seizing your ability to breathe.

Quickly turning around, you searched for Alessia.

Alessia usually made the anxiety go away.

Alessia was safe.

Alessia.

You needed to find her.

Pushing your way through the mass of crowded, faceless bodies crammed in front of you, you tried to look for the blonde.

The further you went though, the smaller you seemed to get.

With each step you were taking, the room seemed to grow in size, the people around you taller, peering judgmentally at you as you pushed through, the faceless partygoers somehow displaying a clear emotion of distaste at your presence.

You could feel your heart beat faster with each second.

Too many people.

You needed to find Alessia.

Too many people.

You couldn’t breathe.

Too many people.

Alessia.

Continuing to push through the mass, air getting harder and harder to breathe, you closed your eyes, blindly moving forward.

Squeezing your way past the final few bodies, you felt yourself stumble as you came across a hallway, the door at the end of it bathed in a dim glow.

Maybe she was there?

Unable to stop yourself, your mind pleading for you to do so but frozen, your feet carried you towards the light.

You wanted to find Alessia.

You needed her right now, and you’d do whatever it took.

Hands shaking at the uneasy feeling in your stomach, you approached the door, fingers reaching out to rest on the door.

Surely Alessia had to be here, right?

You’d soon get your comfort…

Letting out a shaky breath at the thought of finally being okay soon, in the presence of Alessia, you pushed the door open, ready to feel okay, only for your eyes to widen as you felt a lump form in your throat.

No, surely not. No…no…no…

Frozen in your spot, you stared, white as ghost, at the sight in front of you.

There, in the dark room ahead, was Alessia.

Except she wasn’t alone.

Eyes flitting between the blonde and the faceless body in her arms, you felt your world crash.

There she was, your girlfriend, your Alessia, arms wrapped around another person that wasn’t you.

Another person that had their body pressed against hers in a way that was most definitely not friendly, not platonic in the least.

In front of you stood the two, hair dishevelled, their eyes as wide as yours, mouths agape as they realized they’d been caught.

In front of you stood your Alessia, in the arms of another, as you finally felt the ground slip away from beneath you.

~~~

You knew it was just a dream.

You knew she wouldn’t cheat on you.

You knew it.

You believed it.

You felt it, each and every day that she loved you.

Yet, in this moment, darkness bathing you as the silence stretched on, the sinking feeling in your stomach and the way your heart still hadn’t stopped aching since you’d woken up told you otherwise.

Furiously wiping the tears that had fallen from your eyes, you tried to do your best not to sniffle, lest you wake your girlfriend up.

You already had a dream about her cheating- you didn’t want to go and make your night worse by waking her when she so desperately needed her rest.

Doing your best to take deep breaths, you tried to regulate your shaky breathing.

Slowly inhaling and exhaling, you paid keen attention to how much noise you were making with each gasp.

You needed to be quiet- had to be quiet.

She couldn’t see you like this.

No, you wouldn’t let her.

Taking a chance, you slowly turned your head to the side, eyes tracing the faint outline of the striker’s face as you wiped another round of tears on your hands.

Every single fibre in you wanted so desperately to reach out, to be in her hold, to let her soft murmur comfort you like countless times before.

But you couldn’t.

You’d get through this night eventually.

Closing your eyes in frustration at the impending headache you knew was coming, you pressed the heel of your palms harshly to your eyes.

You’d be okay. You’d be okay. You’d be okay.

Repeating the words to yourself, you whined in frustration, unable to find yourself to believe the words.

It was only when your eyes stung due to brute force did you realize what you had just done, freezing as you heard shuffling beside you.

Holding your breath, you felt Alessia’s arm reach out blindly towards you, sleepily patting around, trying to find your body, her even in her sleep ready to take care of you.

You couldn’t have her wake up for you, not again. Not when it’s been multiple nights of her waking up, holding you till the dawn breaks, treating you ever so carefully, so delicately,

Letting go of the breath you were holding as you heard the movement stop, you closed your eyes as more tears of frustration escaped.

How many times- how many fucking times were you going to wake up each night? Why, why for the love of god, could your mind not be normal?

Flexing your jaw as you tried to force your emotions away, you didn’t see the way Alessia sleepily awoke from beside you.

Mind preoccupied by not waking up the Gunner, you didn’t realize that she had long since been awake, trying to give you the time to collect yourself like she knew you wanted.

In all honesty, the blonde had been up before you had been.

Recent days had oddly trained her to sleep a bit lighter. The combined with hearing your mumbling during your dreams had easily woken her up.

She’d let you be though, well aware that you hated that she woke up each time.

So she laid in silence, doing her best to continue her sleepy state, hoping that the night didn’t get too horrible, that she didn’t have to step in, for your sake.

She stayed awake though, lethargically alert, ready to jump in if needed.

Throat tightening up when she heard your sniffles, the furious movement of your hands as you wiped your tears away quietly pulling at her heart strings, the blonde quietly laid there as you dealt with the storm in your mind.

A stalemate of sorts, an inevitable cycle of hurt.

Slowly but surely though, your sniffles died down, movement slowing as you calmed, initial stabbing pain at the nightmare slowing until it became a dull ache.

It’s then that Alessia chose to take her chances, knowing you were easier to talk to after you had ridden your wave of emotions.

“You think you’re hurting me each time you wake me up, but I don’t think you realize how much it pains me to see you like this…”

The words a near whisper into the darkness, Alessia waited a beat before slowly turning to face you, head resting on her arm as she faced you.

Please let me help you.

The plea went unsaid.

Continuing, the whispered words brought on another round of damp eyes.

“You think you’re protecting me, but if it’s just hurting you more and I care for you, are you really succeeding?”

Let me be there to comfort you.

Feeling her heart start to pound at your silence, Alessia wondered if you’d fallen asleep.

Raising her head to try and decipher whether you were awake, she waited as a beat passed, and then another, both without an inch of movement from you.

Shaking her head at the cruel timing between her speaking and your presumably sleeping state, the blonde opened her mouth to sigh, only to be cut off by your timid voice.

“I hate it enough that I have to go through this…it’s not fair to make you go through it too…”

The shaky admission had the blonde’s breath catching in her throat.

She never once felt forced to be there for you. Never.

The fact that being a burden to her had you holding back so significantly pained her to hear.

If the constricting of her heart at your quiet sobs had hurt, then the admission nearly felt like being stabbed.

You weren’t a burden- not to her. Not now, not ever. She just needed to make sure you knew that. Believed it.

“You’re not making me go through anything. I want to be there for you. I want to be able to hold you through the good nights and the bad. Especially the bad. You aren’t a burden to me…”

Swallowing lightly at the prolonged silence that followed her words, Alessia continued, shuffling closer to you until she was nearly pressed up against your side, only a sliver of space between the two of you.

“You make it seem like me loving you is a burden. That I can love you only when you’re perfect...when you’ve got it all together and don’t need a shoulder to cry on.

I don’t want that though. I don’t want to love you when you’re pristine. I want to love you when the days are dark and it’s raining so hard that you’re confined inside. I want to love you when it’s four pm and you didn’t sleep the night before and you’re grumpy because your coffee’s too cold. I want to love you when you can’t remember what it’s like to be loved. When it’s nearly three am and you’re having a nightmare and you don’t know who to turn to. That’s when I want to love you- when you need it most.”

A silence blanketed the room at the end of Alessia’s admission, only the quiet hum of the electrical wiring to be heard.

Feeling her cheeks heat up but not finding it in herself to care- to be embarrassed- the blonde took her chances.

Slowly letting her arm come to wrap around your midsection, she pulled you close.

With you still laid on your back, the side of your torso pressed up against the striker’s front, your hands gently intertwined as she found where it rested under the sheets, she continued.

“Not waking me won’t do either of us good. Yes, you could deal with it on your own, but you don’t have to, okay? I want to be there for you. I want to hold you when things get tough. I want to love you. You just need to let me do that…”

Feeling you nod in response, she moved to place a gentle kiss on your forehead.

Moving to lay on her back as she felt you turn towards her, the Gunner opened her arms in an easy welcome, gathering you in her embrace as you sank into her comfort.

Whispering a quiet ‘thank you’ at your understanding, she wondered out loud if you wanted to talk about it.

A quiet but firm ‘no’ escaping your lips, she nodded her head in understanding as ran her hand through your hair.

If you didn’t want to talk, so be it- as long as you let her love you, take care of you, hold you, it didn’t matter.

As long as you felt loved, because you very much were if Alessia had anything to say about it.

Hands coming to wrap strongly around you, you sighing contently at the warmth as you felt the tiredness of the past hour catch up with you, the pair of you drifted off into a dreamless sleep, Alessia’s last tiredly whispered sentence ringing reassuringly, protectively in your mind as the tension in your shoulder eased.

"It's easy to love you on your good days, but I want to love you on your worst. On the days you don't believe in love and don't think you deserve it, it's when I want to love you most. 'Cause I'll love you through all of them, now and forever, if you let me."

'If I could change the way that you see yourself, you wouldn’t wonder why you hear ‘they don’t deserve you'"

#this one gets dark- sorry guys #not proofread because we don't do that here #alessia russo #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso community #woso #my writing #fic req #hurt/comfort #fic #alaih

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absolutebl · 11 days

Text

This Week in BL - new entries upset the rankings

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

April 2024 Wk 2

Ongoing Series - Thai

City of Stars (Fri iQIYI) ep 11 of 12 - Like most Thai BL pulps, this show doesn’t have much story to it. But I'm discovering that what it does have I actually really enjoy. I love that the gay boys got to play matchmaker for a change and I like how just GAY they are. It's nice. Refreshing.

We Are (Weds GMMTV iQIYI) ep 1-2 of 16 - University ensemble BL featuring PondPhuwin, WinnySatang, AouBoom, MarcPawinPoon. I like it. It’s old school Thai BL, but having fun with itself and its tropes. I’m not expecting much, so I don’t mind it waffling. All the couples are comfy. Chemistry is okay. Friendships are nifty. I like Pond's floppy hair. We fine.

Two Worlds (Thurs IQIYI) ep 5 of 10 - What an extremely bloody episode. And bad guy turned out to be very bad indeed. And now pretty much everyone is dead. Nice kiss. Of course.

Deep Night (Thurs iQiyi) ep 6 of 8 - It’s cute, they happy, not a ton happened. Random gratuitous bathing. As you do in BL. And I still think the sides should just end up in a thrupple

Only Boo! (Sun YouTube) ep 2 of 12 - Oh they very cute. Also very silly.

1000 Years Old (Thurs iQIYI) ep 9 of 12 - No. NOT THE GUITAR. YES abandon guitar for the sniff test! Love this for them. And me. My most favorite trope defeated my least favorite trope. VICTORY!!!

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Unknown (Taiwan Tues YouTube & Viki) ep 8 of 11 - It’s just so good. Baby went away, grew up, and learned how to become a temptation... and a husband.

Gray Shelter AKA Gray Currents (Korea Thurs iQIYI) 1 of 5 eps - SooHyuk, only just surviving, reunites with YoonDae, his (brief) younger stepbrother who feels abandoned. They end up living together. The younger brother is played by Lee Jae Bin of Choco Milk Shake. OMG. STEPBROTHERS TROPE. Lucky me! Two in one season. Yay!!!! It's Korea so great visuals too. I shallow but yeah, this is great.

Living With Him AKA Kare no Iru Seikatsu (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 1 of 10 - Kindly Ryota goes off to uni only to find his new roommate is his childhood bestie, Kazuhito. Kazuhito doesn’t have a girlfriend and Ryota tries to help him figure out why. Same director as Old Fashion Cupcake. It’s utterly charming. I am charmed. Also the framing is gorgeous (of course). Very stylish.

Love is Better the Second Time Around AKA Koi wo Suru nara Nidome ga Joto (Japan Weds Gaga) ep 6fin - I don’t know. Kind of a flat ending with the leads apart for most of it. I enjoyed this show but it never really hit with me.

Summation

After a teen betrayal and resulting separation a reporter reunites with his first love. That love wants him back. I enjoyed the authenticity of a reunion romance explored in Japan's quintessentially contemplative yet surreal way. The juxtaposition of the tenderness of the sex scenes with this Japanese style of authenticity was oddly elegant but all in all this still fell a little flat for me. There's nothing objectively wrong with it, but in total the narrative felt sluggish and the main couple were just... stiff (in the wrong way). Frankly, I'd rather just rewatch Tokyo in April is. 8/10

Love is like a Cat (Korea Mon Viki) eps 3-4 of 12 - What is going on with this show? No, I get the plot. I just don't get the show or why I’m watching it. Annoying.

It's done, but I suck

What Did You Eat Yesterday Season 2 AKA Kinou Nani Tabeta? Season 2 (Japan Gaga) 10 eps

To Be Continued (Sat C3 Thailand grey) ep 7-8fin - I can't for the life of me find the final 2 episodes. Haven't had a real hunt, but yeah. No dice so far.

It's airing but...

Takumi-kun Series 6: Nagai Nagai Monogatari (Japan Furritsubs) eps 1-? of 10 - I may wait and binge it.

Lady Boy Friends (Thai WeTV grey) 16 eps - reminds me a bit too much of Diary of Tootsies only high school. Not my thing. DNF unless it turns a corner and is truly amazing.

Kiseki Chapter 2 (Sun iQIYI) 6 eps - It’s so boring DNFed at 2.

Close Friend Season 3: Soju Bomb! (Weds iQIYI) 6 - The problem with situational comedy BL is it must be situational, comedic and a BL. This show gets 1 of 3 claims correct. 33% is not a passing grade. Dropped at 3.

Memory in the Letter (Thai WeTV) - only 4 eps, tell me if I should bother?

Next Week Looks Like This:

4/18 At 25:00 in Alaska AKA 25 Ji Akasaka de (Japan Thurs Gaga) 10 eps - Yuki lands his first starring role in a BL drama alongside superstar Asami (previously his senior at uni). Said superstar suggests they form a sham relationship until filming concludes. As they actually begin to fall in love, the spotlight begins to burn. I think I've seen this before (joke) and also the trailer doesn't inspire confidence.

Still to Come in April

4/25 Boys Be Brave! AKA Roommates (Korea Thurs Viki) 8 eps - Trailer Jung Ki Sub is Kim Jin Woo's slacker friend - and secret crush. So when Ki Sub crashes at his place, his heart tingles to be near him everyday. But as the short stay turns into permanent mooch, how long can Jin Woo keep his true feelings under wraps and hold back from confessing?

4/26 My Stand-In (Thai iQIYI) 12 eps - adaptation of Chinese novel "Professional Body Double" by Shui Qiang Cheng. Stars Up (Lovely Writer) and Poom (Bake Me Please) directed by the same team as KP (not a recommendation IMHO - my biggest criticism of that show was the clashing directing styles). This one looks complicated, lemme try: Joe is a stuntman for famous actor Tong. Joe falls in love with Ming but Ming sees Joe as nothing more than a Tong-replacement. After learning this horrible truth, Joe dies. Joe then wakes up in the body of another man also named Joe. He manages to rebuild the same life as before—with the same people eventually re-meeting Ming. Ming wants Joe back but Joe doesn't understand why. But Ming seems to know what's going on and wants to give him some kind of explanation.

I'm exhausted just trying to describe the plot.

Knock-Knock Boys (Thai WeTV) - 4 college friends conspire to help their friend lose his virginity. Familiar faces like Seng (yes, Billy's previous pairing) and Best, news here. But will it actually air this month?

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

NOTE: It looks like one of my personal favorites of last year Unintentional Love Story is getting a spin off!

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENT

Sniff test turning into a make out sesh? Please and thank you. City of Stars

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a bother.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly

If ya wanna be tagged each week leave a comment and I will add you to the template. Easy peesy.

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toastnpretzels · 2 months

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home

relationships: crosshair x reader

masterlist

word count: 733

warnings: angsty, fluff, there's an unexplained relationship between the reader and crosshair, kinda left it up to interpretation whether you think they were together before or if it was just them having feelings for each other.

season 3 episode 4 spoilers

author's note: i have not posted a fic in so long. ive been so busy but that doesnt matter. the new episode had me feeling some type of way so here you go. its kinda short but i didnt want to expand without seeing hunter and wrecker's reaction to crosshair being back.

thank you for any support whether its likes, reblogs, or comments <3

“I had help.”

The last few months had been terrible. From losing Tech and then losing Omega to the empire. Spending everyday looking for her with no success. Nothing was ok. All of us were miserable. Our family was being torn apart and there was nothing we could do about it. It couldn’t have gotten any worse.

Getting the comm from Omega was one of the best things to ever happen to us, but seeing her running down from the ship was even better. Embracing her, knowing she was safe, felt better than anything had. Things were starting to feel right again. All it took was one hug from Omega.

But then he walked off the cargo ship and everything in my body froze. He looked so different. He had been gone for so long that I thought the feelings had disappeared. Seeing him there, I knew they never were.

I forgot what it was like to be near him. I forgot how my heart sped up and how my head felt dizzy. I forgot how he smelled and how warm he was. I forgot how much I loved him.

After Kaller, nothing was ever the same. He wasn’t the same. The chip had changed him. The Empire had changed him.

He let us go on Kamino. The same day you had told him you loved him. On the platform before we left, with tears in my eyes. I told him I loved him.

“You shouldn’t.”

“Crosshair, please,” you whispered. He could hear the way your voice was breaking. You couldn’t lose him again.

When he didn’t say anything, you turned to walk away. Typical Crosshair to not say anything. He grabbed your wrist as you started walking.

“I love you.”

You stared at him. Your tears threatened to spill out from his confession.

“But I can’t come with you. You deserve better. This is where I want to be. With the Empire.”

I should have dragged him to the ship. I should have done more. But what more could you do when he didn’t want to be there. He wanted to be with the Empire.

Why couldn’t he have just came with you that day?

No one moved. Everyone was just as shocked to see him. No one knew what he was going to do, how he was going to react. He had tried to kill us before, but he had also let us go. No one trusted him anymore. You chose to remember how he had let us go.

You were the first one to move. Slowly, I stepped out from behind Wrecker. Every step I took towards him was filled with anxiety. It had been too long.

He doesn’t want to see me.

Is he still him?

Why did he come then?

Why would he still be here if he didn’t want to be?

You stopped a few feet in front of him. I could see how tired he looked from where I was standing. I couldn’t stand seeing him like this. It hurt so much. He had been through so much since Kamino.

What did they do to him?

I couldn’t stand there anymore. I ran the few feet that were left in between us. I wasn’t sure if he would push me away. As I got close to him, I fell right into his arms. I didn’t realize just how much I had missed him until this moment. He wrapped his arms around me in the tightest embrace I’ve ever had. It had been too long since I had felt him. He was safe. He was here.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered after a few minutes, so quietly that you barely heard it.

I looked up at him. He had tears that were threatening to spill over. Your heart broke at the look on his face.

“Shh. Not now. Just let me hold you.”

You stood there for what felt like an eternity just holding each other. Quiet tears were spiling from both of your eyes.

“I love you,” he whispered into your hair. His arms tightened around you again, as if he was afraid you would disappear.

It would be hard to forgive. Hard for everyone, not just you. So much had happened. But for now, all that mattered was that him and Omega were safe. Omega was home. Crosshair was home.

“I love you too.”

#crosshair x reader #crosshair imagine #the clone wars imagine #star wars imagine #clone force 99 #clone x reader #the bad batch #bad batch #crosshair tbb #the bad batch crosshair #tbb crosshair #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch imagine #star wars the bad batch

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coryosbaby · 4 months

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ᴅᴏʟʟ ᴘᴀʀᴛꜱ

Enoch O’Connor x angel! Reader <3

“Enoch! Give it back!”

Your citrine voice echoes throughout Miss Peregrine’s Orphanage as you chase the dark haired boy down. In his hands is your favorite doll, cracked but still beautiful, one Enoch had brought to life for you in the wee hours of the night many (of the same) days ago. He stomps angrily through the house, his jaw clenched, large back muscles flexing. Ignoring the squirming of the doll— aka, Mary— and her annoyed kicks, he tears open the door of his room and slams it right in your face.

How rude he is! All you had wanted to do was have tea with him and show him your new book. He had snapped at you, snarkily said something about “the both of you being too old for tea parties” and that he had more important things to do then do something so childish. You had snapped back, hurt from his words, and he had stolen Mary from you.

You don’t understand how he can be so cruel. His mood changes like the seasons— one minute he’s got a small smile on his usually dull face as he listens to you speak, making you toys that live and breathe. And then the next, it’s like you’re satan spawn.

You rest your back against his bedroom door, pouting. Tears begin to well in your eyes. You just wanted to show him your new book.

It isn’t long before you’re wiping your face and strolling towards Claire’s room. She lets you rant about your book without fuss, fascinated by all the tales that you had enamored yourself with. She also cheers you up about Enoch.

“He’s just in one of his moods,” she explained. A frown had formed on both of her faces, even when the one on the back of her head was gnawing on a chocolate chip cookie. “You know how he can get. He’ll cheer up and apologize, like he always does. Besides, he knows how important Mary is to you. He’ll give her back, I’m sure of it.”

You wonder how a child so young can be so intelligent about such things. But you guess that’s what happens when you relive the same day over and over for fifty years. You learn things, and in a way, still grow mentally.

After your talk with Claire, you feel better. You bid her goodbye, say hi to Emma as you pass her, and wander down the halls barefoot in your flowing pink dress. You make your way to the library for a new book to read.

To your distaste, Enoch is sitting at the couch when you walk through the door. You let out a little “hhm” sound, stomping angrily to the shelves. He’s got his head in a textbook about anatomy and looks up from it at the sound of your voice. He scoffs, then looks back down at it again.

Your fingers skim over book titles, some pretty and dainty, some horrific and covered in fine, dark print. You decide to pick a book by William Shakespeare— A Midsummer Night’s Dream. You scratch your feathered wings, beginning to read the book as you make your way back out of the room.

You pause at the door when Enoch’s voice makes way through your thoughts.

“You’ve read that one,” he murmurs, as his eyes scan over you.

You waver, hand staying on the doorknob.

“I didn’t know you remembered that.” you reply. You had read it years ago. Or, what you presume to be years ago. If you can even count time here.

“You recited it to me.” he shrugs, taking a glance over at your wings. They always fascinate him, even after all of this time.

“I know what I did, Enoch,” you retort, not having much logic in your sentence. But when do you ever? “Don’t tell me what I’ve done. You don’t have a right.”

“What sense does that make?” He questions snarkily, but you’re already out the door.

—

Dinner goes without much fuss. Miss Peregrine looks at the two of you questionably, wondering why you didnt take your usual seat beside Enoch, but doesn’t mention it out loud. After the reset you head back to your room and immerse yourself in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Your lace nightgown drapes down your body in silky waves.

Your shoulders are tensed, your feet tapping nervously. You’re used to Mary’s porcelain feet dancing across the hardwood floors, her tiny giggles as she looks at herself in the mirror. Usually at this time of night, you and the doll will lay awake in the dark, huddled under your ruffled pink comforter, and whisper to each other. It’s the only way you can go to sleep— Enoch had made her to help with your nightmares, after all. Your nightmares of children with no heads, monsters that pluck out children’s eyes in their sleep. Your nightmares of losing the people you love.

How could he be so cruel?

That anger flares up again. With a forceful hand, you slam the book down onto your desk and stalk across the hallway. Your knuckles rap against Enoch’s door ferociously, and when he finally opens it you force your way into his room with curses spilling off of your tongue.

“I don’t understand, Enoch!” Your wings seem to glow a dusty red hue from your rage. “I’m nothing but nice to you! I help you with your experiments, I try to be your friend, but at this point I don’t know if anyone could ever..“

You stop dead in your tracks. Enoch’s eyes dart to his work table, as if he was caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. You look across to it.

There, sitting happily, all fixed up, is Mary.

She has a smile on her painted face, and a new dress adorning her. Shes cleaned, polished, and almost looks brand new. All the cracks that were once on her porcelain skin have vanished.

“[y/n]!” The doll giggles excitedly, saying your name in words only you can hear. “Look what Enoch made for me! Isn’t it pretty?”

You gape as Mary happily twirls in her dress. Enoch clears his throat.

“She was filthy,” he mutters. “You should really start cleaning your things. It tracks dirt and grass all over the house.”

Turning to him, your stomach racks with guilt.

“You fixed her for me?”

He shrugs, avoiding your gaze, acting nonchalant.

“I’ve been meaning to for a while. It was quite annoying, watching her face caked with dirt everyday. And her dress was practically torn to shreds.”

You pick Mary up from the table, holding her in the palms of your hands. You press a kiss to her hair. The doll yawns.

“I’m tired,” she mumbles. “Can’t we sleep now?”

“In a moment,” you reply. “Why don’t you go to my room and wait up for me?”

She looks between you and Enoch, does that off putting giggle that would make anyone else uncomfortable, but not you. She hops down from your fingertips, and skips away to your room across the hall.

You hear Enoch’s bedroom door close behind you once she’s gone, and jump. The familiar raven haired boy brushes past you, taking a seat in his chair. His curls fall into his face, and usually you would move them away while he silently grumbled at you not to touch them. But right now, it’s different. You rock on the balls of your feet as silence fills the dark space.

“Enoch—“ you start, but the boy picks up a scalpel and throws one of his toys onto the table.

“I need the jar of hearts on the third shelf.”

It’s all he says, and you know that this is his way of saying he’s sorry. It’s an odd way, but it’s a way you’ve picked up on continuously. The boy doesn’t have the mouth to utter an apology, so he just brings things back to normal instead.

You scamper over to the shelves, picking out the jar he wanted, and sit it down beside him. A small smile grazes your lips, and you sit on the chair that he had put there just for you. He works silently, and his bottom lip pulls in between his teeth. You think it’s quite enamoring— sort of like your books.

Your mouth can’t seem to contain itself, and within minutes you’re speaking up again.

“Thank you,” you say. “I’m sorry. I should’ve—“

“It’s my fault,” he replies. “I…I shouldn’t have came off so brash.”

Without thinking, your hand brushes up against his.

“It’s alright,” you explain. “I forgive you, even though you haven’t said you’re sorry. But I know you are.”

He pauses. He can’t help but trail his eyes down to where your hands meet. You smile up at him, and he adjusts in his seat.

You kiss him.

You don’t know why you do, exactly. Maybe it’s the way he’s looking at you, like you’re something special. But your lips meet, and it’s sweet. Innocent, really— a small peck. His eyes are wide when you pull away from him.

“What was that?” He asks.

Your wings turn baby pink, and a grin spreads across your face.

“I just felt like it.”

#not enough fics ab my bf #also bunny?? not writing smut??!#ITS A MIRACLE #Enoch o’ Connor #Enoch o’ Connor x reader #enoch O’Connor x fem! reader #Enoch O’Connor fanfic #miss peregrines home for peculiar children #mphfpc #mphfpc fanfic #Enoch mphfpc

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alligatorpie1945 · 1 year

Text

Trust me, the finale shook me to my core. But I honest to god don’t think Tech is actually dead, something doesn’t sit right. No body, means no death in my head. I mean if you can come back from being visibly cut in half or burned alive via lava.

Then I’m sure a fall off a cliff won’t kill him. I bet he was taken back to Mount Tantiss. (Plus maybe when he returns he will have some kind of scar or thing he will have to deal with)

I know the finale didn’t go the way a lot of us wanted. But it sets up a super interesting season 3, and when they all get reunited. It will be even better. I’d rather have that, than an end to the show. (I just don’t want to wait a year until that happens).

But have faith, They have done a great job so far. And seeing how upset most of us are, that’s proof right there that they have written and brought to life extremely awesome characters. That we care about. Anyway, just my two cents.

#the bad batch #star wars #tech #crosshair #tbb #tbb season 2 spoilers #tbb spoilers #the bad batch spoilers

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bettyfrommars · 8 months

Note

Monster Eddie Jobs: haunted clown doll. Poltergeist. One of those paintings where the eyes follow you around. INCUBUS

haunted clown doll it is

hauntedClownDoll!Eddie x Reader

another blurb from The Nightmare Factory

Nightmare Factory Masterlist

Another step in Eddie's journey to find the Nightmare Factory job that will entice you to want to get to know him. A lot of you darlings came through with a handful of fun, creative requests, and I'm excited to keep them going through spooky season! I will also be using others that were mentioned in this particular ask, and always happy to receive more! I stayed at the Clown Motel once and lived to tell. There really is a cemetery right next to it, no lie. wc: 1.5k

18+ONLY, mature themes, nightmares, clowns, longing

The Clown Motel in Tonopah, Nevada gave you the creeps, but all you needed was a quick bed for the night, and $65 was about all you could afford. There was an old cemetery next to the property, and if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve assumed it was all a staged setup to add to the spooky appeal of the motel. But, no—the headstones were all very real, dating back to the late 1800’s.

You saw him when you first came in—he was impossible to miss. The life-sized clown doll dressed in colorful stripes with a wide mouth and round, rubber nose. He sat in the middle of a square nook filled with clown dolls of all shapes and sizes. Some were ceramic, some were cloth. Some were wood, carved to look like a nutcracker. The big clown had one hand in his lap and one hanging down his side, and his eager eyes sought you in a way that made you avert your attention until you were done checking in.

Your room was on the second tier and you took some time to get cleaned up before calling over to the restaurant across the way to order some food. On you way back across the street, clutching the styrofoam container in your hand, you caught a glimpse of something bright in the cemetery.

It was dusk, and you wondered if maybe it was someone visiting one of the burial sites.

But, with a muffled scream you noticed—for a split second—that it was the same clown doll from the lobby standing like a statue by one of the headstones.

It was watching you, leering at you, and it lifted its arm in a stiff wave as the wind blew back the silk of his costume.

You blinked and choked, and when you focused on the spot in the distance again—the clown was no longer there.

Eddie materialized in the cemetery to get a better look at where you were, and then he tripped over his floppy shoes and almost impaled himself on a handmade, wooden cross.

He cursed under his breath, wondering why he chose Haunted Clown Doll over some type of apparition so that he could be near you without making you uncomfortable. First of all, he thought having a physical body would solve the communication problem, but of course—the clown’s face couldn’t move, and his voice came out as not much more than a mocking cackle.

Second, it was only a three day training, and most of it was just watching safety videos about how to walk in the shoes. They also taught him to sit for a while, and then stand in the corner, and then hover near the bed when the person having the nightmare least expected it.

They repeated a lot of the same shit at the training, and when he crossed his arms over his chest to sink back in his chair, he started to fall asleep.

He snorted awake with a start when the teacher—-a professional Nightmare Clown with a gaping maw of sharp teeth and a bright green wig—-barked his name.

“Sorry,” Eddie said groggily. “I’m listening.”

“Is that right?” The teacher clown also had cat’s eyes for pupils and a polka dot jumper with ruffles at the wrists and blood stains across the front. “Indulge the rest of the class and tell me what the last rule was I just went over.”

The “class” consisted of 3 unfortunate souls, including Eddie.

Eddie could not contain the yawn that stretched his mouth, so he spoke while it was happening. “Going under the covers,” he answered. “When the person puts their head under the covers, they are safe, and we can’t touch them or scare them.”

“Exactly, now, how do we keep them from going under the covers?”

Eddie must’ve blanked out on that one. “Um, we can’t?”

The teacher heaved a weary sigh, cocking their head. “Distractions, Munson. Doors that fly open, a face in the window, whispers in their ear.”

This was all beginning to sound way above his pay grade, and he wasn’t interested in being the best student or the best employee—he just wanted to see you again.

He should’ve dematerialized before you caught a glimpse of him from across the street, but some insane part of him hoped you might recognize him—even though you’d never seen his actual form, and he was dressed like a literal clown this time.

A car honked, jolting you from your reverie, and as you jogged the rest of the way into the parking lot, your eyes darted around, hoping to god that you would not see the clown again.

On your way to the stairs, you passed by the glass front to the lobby, and found yourself looking in to make eye contact with the clown doll again. Its eyeballs were painted on, but somehow—you felt like they were watching you, as if someone were looking through from the other side. Both of its hands were in its lap, now, and its shoulders were hunched; big, oversized red shoes planted on the floor; short, frizzy orange hair sticking out of a floppy sleeping cap.

You went up and watched some lame sitcoms while you ate your dinner, and you tried to forget about the inanimate clown doll that was gnawing at your brain.

Eddie noticed how you took the time to check in on him on the way to your room, and his heart leapt. And then, he thought he was the one dreaming when he watched you descend the stairs and return to the lobby a few hours later.

The night manager popped his head out to ask if you needed any help, but you confessed you were only there to look at the clowns.

One in particular.

You made your way over to stand at his side and covertly whispered in his ear. “Was that you out in the cemetery today?”

Eddie’s clown hand fell from his lap to sway at his side, making you jump back, eyes widening at the coincidence.

When you found the nerve, you leaned closer, inspecting the wide, painted smile on his porcelain face, the brown of his irises.

You were so close, Eddie could smell you. You radiated fresh lavender and coconut hand lotion and a tang of garlic from the dinner you just ate. He watched your lips move as you whispered to yourself, something about, “where have I seen this clown before?”

Eddie couldn’t speak though, he could only chuckle, and he didn’t think it was the right time.

The body of the doll was so lifelike; you had to feel it for yourself. With a shaky hand, you reached out to touch his shoulder—it wasn’t soft like stuffing, it was hard, like a store mannequin. You bent down to squeeze the thigh, finding that it was made of the same solid material.

Eddie could feel everything, the way you were caressing him. On his plane of existence, he parted his lips and let his eyes roam over your face. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to be able to kiss you.

You bought some souvenirs—-a shot glass and a mug for your mom—and then returned to your room for the night.

It took you a while to get to sleep, but when you finally dozed off to the point that your body jerked from an imaginary fall, clown Eddie was sitting in the chair in the corner. The maniacal smile stretched across his face was locked in place—his eyes unblinking as they stared across the room at you.

You rolled over with a groan, pulling the covers closer to your chin as you went.

Eddie materialized at the side of the bed, at your back, tilting his head, wishing he could crawl in and put his arms around you. He’d take his big, stupid shoes off first.

The next morning, you woke up refreshed, and busied yourself around the motel room getting ready for the last leg of your road trip, oblivious to the way Eddie had been standing at the foot of your bed all night.

After your suitcase was in the car, you went to drop the key off at the front desk, and noticed the life-sized clown was no longer therr. You went over to inspect the area: its chair between the shelves of smaller clowns was gone too. There was not a trace of it, as if it had vanished.

“Hey, so, where did you put the huge clown that was down here?” You asked politely as you passed the man your key.

He squinted at you, a bit confused. “Huge clown, you mean the nutcracker ones?”

“No, the really big one,” you turned to point to the area where it had been. “It was taller than me with enormous red shoes, a really creepy smile. It was sitting right over there when I checked in yesterday.”

The man bent forward over the desk to see where you were pointing, even though he had no idea what you were babbling about.

“We’ve never had a clown that size,” he assured you. “But I wish we did. It sounds like something from a nightmare.”

#the nightmare factory #Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson fic #Eddie munson #the clown motel #Eddie Munson fluff #hauntedClownDoll!eddie #Eddie Munson x reader

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queen-of-deans-booty · 6 months

Text

Fun and Games

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: fluff

Request by anon: Hey can i request something with Jensen Ackles, where the reader is Jeffrey daughter and Jensen wife and the fans asks Jeffrey who he find out about her daughter dating Jensen? Something fluff with funny between them

Summary: Your husband brings you along to one of his panels with your dad, and you make the mistake of telling the fans a prank you pulled on your dad. He has some stories of you, too, and everything comes to light right then and there.

Square Filled: locked in a playground (2020) for @spnfluffbingo

Author’s Note: i appreciate any and all comments! <3

“Why’d you have to drag me out to this thing? I could have been sitting at home in the bath reading my book,” you say to your husband.

Jensen wraps his arms around your waist and slides his hands to your ass, squeezing your cheeks before sliding his hands into your back pockets.

“What do you mean? You love coming with me to these things.” These things being conventions with thousands of screaming fans for all kinds of fandoms. You love going with him but you kind of wish you could be at home right now. “I’ll tell you what. If you endure the next seven hours with me here, I’ll give you a massage when we get home.”

“A real one?” you grin.

“Oil and all.”

“Will you be naked?”

“Is there any other way?” he chuckles.

“I love you.”

“You stole the words right out of my mouth.”

Jensen leans down and molds his lips against your own. Being married to him is the best thing you could have ever done. There is never a dull moment in the Ackles house. The door to the break room opens and you pull away from your husband. Your dad, Jeffrey, steps inside to steal a quick snack.

“Come on, kids. We’re on,” he grins mischievously.

“What are you up to?” you narrow your eyes at him.

“Nothing. I have a feeling this panel is about to be a good one.”

Your dad leaves and you take a deep breath in to calm yourself.

“He’s gonna tell the story again, isn’t he?”

“Probably,” Jensen shrugs.

“He’s told everyone he knows about that damn story but never to an audience. I better not see a bunch of memes tomorrow about it.”

“Knowing the fans, probably. Stay off social media for the next week,” he laughs and walks out.

“It’s not funny! Jensen!”

You follow your husband to where your dad is, and all three of you step on stage to greet all the fans who came to watch your panel. They cheer when they see you, and you take a microphone from one of the crew members. You’re not an actor, in fact, you’re far from it. However, you love the community Supernatural fans have created, and love going to these things with Jensen and Jared.

After greetings are done, Jensen and your dad get into the groove of things. They thank people for coming out here, yada, yada, yada. This panel is very inclusive so a lot of fans have questions about upcoming episodes, your lives behind the scenes, and just funny stories of things that have happened to you. No question is off the table so you prepare yourself for whatever comes.

“This question is for Y/N,” a fan asks once the questioning portion of the panel starts.

“Hi, what’s your name?”

“Jessica.”

“Lovely name! I like your hat!”

“Okay, let the girl get to her questions,” Jensen jokes.

“I’m just giving her a compliment. Calm down, old man.” A round of laughter rolls out. “Go ahead, Jessica.”

“I know you were an extra in this last season in a few scenes. My question is, what’s been one of the funniest moments you remember from filming?”

“Oh, that’s a good question,” you grin. You’re not an actor, but you’ve been in a few scenes as a bystander when needed. Jensen loves taking you on set so you can watch, so even if you’re not filming, you’re there to witness their shenanigans. “Okay, you guys remember the episode where my dad guest stared? John Winchester comes back for an episode?”

A round of cheers lets you know they know exactly what you’re talking about.

“You’re really going to tell this story?” your dad asks you.

“I’m telling the story,” you grin. “I’m not sure this is going to make it on the blooper reel or not, but remember the part when Sam was going to crush that small white rock to get rid of John and send him back to the past? Well, we were all super serious and everyone is so in character. Emotions are high and we’re doing our best not to cry. Well, when Jared went to crush the rock, it didn’t shatter as we hoped. Instead, it flew off the table and hit my dad right in the crotch. I swear it was the funniest thing I have ever seen. Jensen, Jared, and I were on the floor in tears.”

“It took us a while to get back into character, but that was a nice break from character,” Jensen grins.

“Oh! I got another story!”

“Really? Another one?” your dad asks.

“So, this was when I was visiting Jen on set but I wanted to pull a prank on my dad since he was coming in that week to film that same episode.”

“Why are you telling them this story?” your dad groans.

“Shh, they’re gonna love it. So, I worked with the director to get him in on this prank. He gave me access to his work email that I then used to send my dad an email regarding the dress code at work.”

You can’t contain your giggles at this point.

“Keep it up, Y/N,” your dad nods.

“Shh! I told him it was dress-as-a-clown-to-work day. Everyone was going to be in costume and we were going to surprise one of the makeup artists since it was her birthday. He believed me.” Everyone starts laughing at what’s to come. “When he showed up that morning in the funkiest clown costume set with the red nose, the rainbow hair, and the big ol’ clown feet, we all died laughing. I even got a video,” you smirk.

Before your dad can protest, you had one of the crew members put it up on the screen behind you so everyone can see. Your dad walks in wearing the clown suit and realization rolls over his face when he knows you set him up. Everyone in the audience is laughing while your dad is smirking at you. You’re not paying attention to him to notice it otherwise you would have turned it off.

“Yeah, so that was a fun day on set.” The video ends. “The best part is, we kept him in that suit all day.”

“You think that’s funny?” your dad asks. Jensen can’t contain his laughter but tries to cover it with a cough. “You wanna go there? Fine. It’s my turn to tell a story.”

“Wait, Dad--”

“No, no, no, you had your fun. It’s my turn now.”

“You’re going to drag me down with her?” Jensen asks.

“You bet your ass.”

You get up to jog off stage when your husband grabs your arm and yanks you back into him.

“Nope. If I have to sit here and endure this, so are you.”

“So, would you all like to know how I knew my daughter was dating Jensen?” Everyone cheers to let him know they are interested. “This was back when I was a regular on the show. Y/N had come on set a few times and was getting friendly with Jensen. I thought nothing of it until one day when I was sitting at home minding my own business.

“I get a call from Y/N where she tells me not to ask any questions and to meet her. I figure she’s in some kind of trouble so I tell her to send me the address and I’m on my way. When she does, I get my beloved baseball bat just in case I need to beat someone’s ass. I rush over to where she is thinking she was at a bar, a friend’s house, whatever. I did not expect to pull up to a child’s playground.

“Still, I’m in protective dad mode. I hear her calling my name so I run over to where she is and stop dead in my tracks. In the child’s castle-dome thing is my daughter, on top of Jensen, naked, stuck in the arch. I mean, I’ve been a little adventurous in my day, but a child’s playground? Seriously?”

“God,” you scoff and shove your face into your husband’s neck.

“Did you call for help?” someone in the audience asks.

“Yeah after about ten minutes of laughing my ass off.”

“Okay,” you say into your mic and pull away from Jensen, “in my defense, that opening looked wider than I thought.” Your dad laughs loudly but you turn to him with a glare. “Don’t start this game with me. I know some shut about you. Better stop now before I tell them about how you mistook some young lady as mom and almost gotten the shit beaten out of you.”

A round of “oohs” sound off, and your dad puts both hands up in defense.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.”

That incident happened nearly thirteen years ago so you can laugh about it now. You don’t care if people know because it is a funny story. You’re just glad to have stories like that to share. It’s all fun and games, but at the end of the day, you’re surrounded by love.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

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angelicglib · 4 months

Text

‧₊✩ Christmas Comfort ✩₊‧

[ꜱɪᴍᴏɴ ʀɪʟᴇʏ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

[ᴅᴀᴛᴇ ᴘᴏꜱᴛᴇᴅ]: 25/12/23 (REPOSTED: 28/12/23)

[ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ]: After Johnny's death and a failed mission, Simon returns home to his girlfriend.

[ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ]: 3,252

[ᴛᴡ]: hurt/comfort, angst, a somewhat happy ending (it will never be fully happy without soap I am sorry) possible mw3 spoilers (if you have been living under a rock please avoid)

[ᴀ/ɴ]: This is my first story here, please be kind I beg <3 also very sorry for this but I had the idea and thought it would be quite a bittersweet story for the holiday season !!

THIS IS A REPOST !! I've had few issues with shadowbans and have moved accounts a few times (tumblr thought I was a bot) so, if you would like more stories from me, my new blog is @manicrouge !!

─────────── ∘°❉°∘ ───────────

Christmas this year is going to be tough.

You know it from when you open the door to him on Christmas Eve.

Time has passed, he hasn’t been home for months and you were starting to convince yourself that it’s going to be years before you ever see him again.

When you were talking on the phone earlier, sometime during the middle of November, he had made a comment that he wasn’t going to come back home until he had made sure he had the pleasure of declaring that the enemy that had murdered his best friend was officially gone for good. While your chest tightened at his comment, you had nodded along and assured him that they would catch Makarov eventually; there were only so many places one man could hide before he’d revert back to familiar ground.

You feared the same for Simon at that moment. In fact, even with him home safe, you still do.

Of course, you would never say that to his face.

Despite his capability in combat, however, you often find yourself awake at night wondering just how capable he was when it came to processing and dealing with loss. Had he done what you assume he has done, he was most likely going to run from it instead of addressing it. Problems will build up and up until they came tumbling down. It’s a simple thought to construct during the late nights you have been spending alone since the news of what had happened to Johnny had found its way to you. Just as such a thought is easy to construct, you find that another one comes to you quicker than the former: where would Simon be when the building he’d constructed over the years fell to pieces?

There were only so many places he man could hide before he’d refer back to familiar ground. Even if said ground was crumbling around him. Maybe in his misery, he would find solace in falling to his doom with the chunks of shattered earth surrounding him.

If that assessment is wrong, it doesn't matter; your brain has decided it before your heart even gets a say.

You have very little to go off of concerning with how he dealt with loss, the occasional comment about his mum was enough for you to know that he wasn’t the type to completely forget about a loved one.

He's vague about his past. The less said about it the better.

‘You keep pawing an’ clawing at my brain like a damn puppy,’ he said, trailing his hands through your hair. You were guilty, for sure you were. Curiosity was sure to be the death of you in that regard. He’d let small facts slip on occasion, although, you knew his accidental slip ups were most definitely intention.

Of course, Simon Riley was no fool.

’Just tell me something,’ you begged, ‘like… I don’t know, what was your favourite food to eat at Christmas when you were younger? Ooo, I bet it was something like liquorice. You’d so make your nan pissed by robbing all the good shit out of the sweet tin.’ You laughed at the thought of a tiny Simon Riley climbing on top of a chair, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he attempted to snatch the sweet, sweet treat of liquorice.

‘Are you fuckin’ kidding me?’ he scoffed, ‘actin’ like I’m an old man doll,’ he snorted, ‘stop tryin’ to pester me f’r memories you have no business viewing.’

‘Is it illegal to be curious now?’ you asked with a playful smile. It was silent for a moment, and you lifted your head in an attempt to find his eyes in the darkness.

‘Yes, it is,’ he said, ‘you don’t wanna know me from the past, love,’ he huffed, ‘doesn’t matter now.’

‘You won’t even tell me what your favourite food was during Christmas?’

‘No,’ he reverted back to the same Simon you had seen when Johnny had been talking his ear off during the rare nights out you had had with 141. ’Now go t’ sleep, gonna be tired in the morning if you keep rambling on. My ears are burning with ya, doll,’ he teased, wrapping an arm around your waist, pulling you firmly against his chest.

Despite everything telling you to pull away from him, you maintained your closeness, the warmth of him far too appetising to refuse. Exhaling deeply, you rested your head against the pillow, staring straight at the wall in front of you. Your heart hurt at the very thought that he cared so little about his past that he fought to keep everything from his earlier life away from you. Even the smallest things. Of course, you would never had pried him, only the few passing comments in hopes for him to slip up as he had done a few times before.

Another hard sigh escaped you as you close your eyes. He shifted behind you, resting his head against your shoulder. You thought nothing of his sudden movement; it wasn’t uncommon for him to do so while you were sharing a bed together. Only, he turned his head, his breath ghosting your ear. Inhaling, he swallowed hard. ‘Mum used to make us roast dinners,’ he whispered, ‘used to always slap my hand away whenever she was cooking cause I used to always rob the pigs-in-blankets while she was still getting dinner ready.’

A small laugh passed your lips as you turned in his hold, placing your hand against his cheek with a cheeky grin. He stares back, blue gaze gutting through the darkness, slicing your soul to pieces. ‘Now, will y’ stop huffin’ and puffing and just go to sleep?’ He asked, placing his hand over yours.

‘Soundly, Lt.’

Even behind the mask, you could sense the sadness, the loss. A flurry of emotions hits you when you first see him after what has happened. What can you say to him? Anything other than I’m sorry seems to be an insult to him and to the memory of the man that is sure to haunt him.

The mask hides his face, but it never hid his eyes, his tired and war-weary eyes. It's a brutal sight to see the man who had put the fear of God through you when you had first met reduced to this crushed soul.

‘Simon,’ you say after a while of the pair of you just standing there, staring at each other. For a brief moment, it felt as though you had opened the door to a stranger instead of your boyfriend. Lifting his head, his Adams apple bobs beneath his balaclava as he steps forward. You take a step back, letting go of the edge of the door. Still, he doesn't speak, only standing there, observing you. ‘I thought you said you weren’t coming home until—‘

‘Don’t wanna talk about it,’ he answers, closing the door behind him.

His clothes are branded with the stench of war, and you take note of his bloodshot eyes. Has he been crying? You thought it impossible for such to be the case, he’d do no such thing. But, when he shakily inhales, grabbing the edge of his balaclava, your stomach dropped.

‘Place looks nice,’ he says, though his eyes don't leave you, ripping his mask from off of his face, shoving it into of his cargo pants. His words were shaky despite the stoic expression on his face. ‘You been alright?’

You look at him with wide eyes. ‘I- uh- yeah, yeah, just sorting out last minute things for Christmas,’ you answer, ‘how about you go and get a shower, get changed into some fresh clothes? I’ll make you something to eat—‘

‘Not hungry,’ he answers frankly, ‘appreciate the offer, doll, but I think I’m just gonna go straight to bed,’ he says. All the moisture in your mouth disappears and you’re forced to swallow a dry mouthful of air as you look up at him.

‘Right,’ you nod, ‘I- I’ll be up right after you, just gonna turn everything off down here,’ you say.

He doesn’t answer you after that, dropping his duffle bag down on the ground by the front door as he traipses up the wooden steps of your home. The garland wrapped around the bannister winks at you as you watch Simon walk up the stairs, almost mocking you for ever think it was a good idea to decorate.

The entirety of your house is wrapped like a Christmas present, reds, greens, colourful lights- everything. Whether it was the right thing to decorate or not, you choose not to focus on it too much as you rush around the house, switching off the decorations and the lights, leaving the washing you had been doing on the counter in the kitchen.

All of it can wait. But he can’t.

So, with such a thought in mind, you busy yourself with your plan. What is included in that plan can be decided as you’re walking through the house, back to the staircase you have just seen your poor boyfriend walking up.

Jogging up each step, you decide that ultimately, everything that has happened in the past few months with be something he will not be willing to discuss with you; he made it clear when he walked through the door. Don’t push him on it.

When your foot hits the last step, you nod to yourself as you consider what you would do if he did want to talk to you about it. If he wants to talk to you about it, then you rejoice in his openness. But it isn’t necessary for him to have your undying support. No matter what he decides, ultimately, your heart is never going to fail on him.

Before heading into your bedroom, you gulp when you feel your phone buzz in your pocket. Pulling it out of your pocket, your eyes scan over the message, a shallow exhale escaping your lips.

Mum <3: Can’t wait to see you tomorrow. made sure to grab extra pigs-in-blankets incase Simon decides to appear sometime. Love you xx

Begrudgingly, you stare down at the message before looking at the bedroom door. From beyond it, you can hear the running water in the shower and all you can think about is him. So, with a deep breath, you look back down at your phone and begin to type.

From ‘me’: Slight change of plans but I don’t think we’re going to be able to make it there tomorrow. Simon’s just got home and he’s not good. Don’t think socialising is what he needs right now. Sorry, I love you xx

Choosing has never been easy, yet, when you pushed open the bedroom door and saw his clothes sitting on the bed the pair of you share, you decide that that choice was the easiest one you have ever made in your life. It isn’t a sacrifice when it is necessary. At least, not when it comes to Simon at least.

‘I’m not going home tomorrow,’ you tell him when he walks out of the bathroom. Part of you feels bad for bombarding him with something as soon as he walks out, but the affirming text from your mother causes your heart to swell, and when you see him again, it bursts. His hair is damp and he pulls his face out of the towel with a surprised look. His scarred cheeks are branded with a subtle red tinge from the heat exuding from the bathroom. The heat works well to melt his features just enough for him to mould them into a dissatisfied sneer. ‘I don’t wanna fight you on this, Si.’

‘You can’t cancel on your family,’ he says, approaching his dresser. ‘Not right. I don’t want you to do that for me,’ he continues, grabbing a t-shirt, pulling it over his head. ‘Go spend time with them, am fine here.’

‘I already told my mum,’ you say, ‘she’s fine with it,’ you quickly reassure, far too aware that he very well may be a ticking time bomb.

Oddly, you request of not fighting on it seemingly works as he looks over his shoulder at you. There is simply no fight left in Simon Riley anymore, you conclude it from the way he shrinks as he exhales, padding up to the bed. It was as though he had left the house as a grenade left the hands of a soldier. Upon his return, the body of what made him him: his danger, his determination, and his strength had all been lost and you find he has been reduced to the pin pulled from the grenade.

Looking up at him, you find that it is up to you if you’re going to discard it or keep it as a keepsake.

Pulling the edge of the duvet, you pat the side of the mattress, ‘c’mon,’ you say gently. He doesn’t wait to climb into bed beside you, resting his weary head against the pillow. It’s as though someone is pressing down on his chest as he heaves a sound unlike anything you have ever heard. Exhaustion was clear, but grief was easier to identify in his eyes. Leaning over, you turn the lamp on your beside off, trying your attention to him, lying on his side.

There’s nothing to say. Not to him, not for him, not for yourself. You just lay there and stare at him hoping something will come to you. Anything said will be a bittersweet lullaby, you’re convinced. Nothing is going to put him to sleep. ‘Your minds running; faster than mine, sweetheart,’ he says. His eyes are closed when you look at his face. ‘Don’t want you doin’ stupid things ‘cause of me.’

‘Nothing is stupid when it comes to you, Si’,’ you weakly state.

At this point, you heart is racing, your tongue tangled as you contemplate every single word on the edge of your tongue. ‘Mum said she’ll bring us dinner tomorrow,’ you say with a weak smile, debating on whether or not you should spoil the surprise. ‘We can eat it and watch something… if you want to.’

‘What’s she bringing,’ he asks.

‘A roast,’ you answer, ‘it is Christmas after all.’

He’s quiet for a while, almost as though he doesn’t even want to think about what day it is. December 24th. Christmas Eve. You’re unsure how exactly the holidays work in 141, only noting that he had been away a few times during Christmas. Oddly, this is one of the first ones he’s home with you. His second Christmas since knowing Johnny that he isn’t with him. Your heart weakens at the realisation, your brain cursing you with the knowledge of something so agonising.

They had spent Christmas together.

And now they won’t and never will and it isn’t just because of the distance between Manchester and Scotland.

Rather, it’s because of the distance between this life and the next.

Your eyes well with tears and you close them. Your heart hurts for the man lying in front of you, and when you hear him clear his throat, you find it difficult to contain your own sorrow. ‘Doesn’t feel like Christmas,’ he tells you, his voice trembling as he does. ‘Haven’t slept at all since ‘cause I can’t stop thinking about him just… lyin’ there,’ his throat tightens and his tone grows pitchy as he inhales deeply, swallowing hard. ‘I shoulda done something, I should’ve been there f’r him.’

He’s crying at that point, but not sobbing. In fact, you only know he's crying because, when you place your hand against his cheek and the pad of your thumb wiped away a tear that falls past his eye. ‘You were,’ you choke out, ‘even in death, you were loyal to him, Si’, don’t you dare go cursing your own name for something you were not responsible for,’ you demand. ‘You’ll get him.’

‘We’re fallin’ apart without him,’ Simon sniffles, ‘bet he’s sitting up there pissin’ himself seeing me like this,’ he utters. The pair of you share a laugh at the thought and you move close to him. ‘I just… I told myself after everything that happened to mum and Tommy, I wouldn’t feel anything ‘cause that fucked me up, but then I met Johnny a- and I met you.’

You hold your breath.

‘Simon—‘

‘And what if I can’t keep you safe? I’ve failed at it so much and that fucking pricks got me doubting myself now—‘

‘Shut up,’ you firmly say, ‘I don’t wanna hear it, Si’,’ you utter, ‘and neither would Johnny.’

You press your thumb against his cheek, ‘doubt is a killer, and it’s not me who you’re not gonna be able to protect if you keep thinking the way you are, it’s yourself,’ you continue, licking your dry lips, ‘and… and if you die, then who’s gonna steal the pigs-and-blankets on Christmas Day?’

Whether it was time for humour or not, you’re unsure. But, as you thinking for a moment, you recall the tales told to you by Simon during his time away, particularly his time with the Shadows.

Two goldfish are in a tank…

‘You still remember that?’ he asks eventually. You feel the muscles contort in his face as he smiles at you.

‘Always,’ you respond, ‘mums got them with the dinner tomorrow ‘cause I asked her too… said she got extra incase you planned on robbing any of them.’ You feel bad telling him such information knowing that you had chosen to cancel the holiday. If anything, you’re worried about the guilt you’re causing him by rambling on about the stupid fucking pigs-in-blankets. ‘My point is Si’,’ you take a deep breath, ‘I need you here with me so you can fulfil your duty.’

He shifts and pulls you closer, wrapping his arm around your waist, pressing his face into the nape of your neck. Your hand brushes through his hair, melting in his arms as his hot breath fans against your neck. ‘Wanna see your family tomorrow,’ he says, ‘I’ll go with you.’

‘Are you sure—‘

‘’Ave been stuck in my mind for nearly two months,’ he confesses, pulling away from your neck. ‘Fighting with myself over everything, I’ve hardly spoken to Price or Gaz,' he says. You press your lips together, the thought of him being alone nauseating. ‘Be a waste of money as well if I didn’t try pinching the food your mums made, wouldn’t it?’

You feel him smile as he presses his face back against your neck, his grip on you so tight its almost painful. But you relent, allowing him to have the comfort he so deserves. Resting your head above his, you close your. Whatever awaited you in the future can wait, you conclude.

‘I proud of you,’ you whisper, pressing a kiss onto his head. 'Never gonna let you doubt yourself ever again, not on my watch,' you continue, 'now sleep. We can talk more when you're ready.'

He smiles again.

'I know I can sleep soundly now,' he utters against your skin, 'got you beside me.'

With that, the pair of you fall into silence. You don't sleep, not until you feel his breathing steady against you skin, the subtle rise of his chest as he keeps his arms around you. You keep running you fingers through his hair before eventually, you find your eyes growing heavy and you drift off.

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jjtheresidentbaby · 24 days

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Hi! Congrats on 1000 followers!

Could you do a cg! Rafe Cameron x little! Reader with the prompts "shh, go back to sleep. you need it." and "shh shh, no, it's alright. you're fine, shh."

Btw, I love your blog and I’m so happy you’re doing obx fics now!

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ you’re fine ⋆ﾟ⊹ ➢ event masterlist

» rafe cameron x reader

» a/n: hope you don’t mind me taking some creative liberties and making this pouge!reader turned kook!reader

» warnings: set sometime in season 3, talk of canon events, pouge!reader turned kook!reader, pet names, nightmares, angst, crying, hurt/comfort I’m still not sure I like this

Rafe jolts when you wake up with a choked off scream that quickly turns to a sob, he moves from his place in a chair in the corner of the room to the side of your bed in seconds, already reaching to rub your back.

“Shh, shh, no, it's alright. you're fine, shh.” He soothes and pulls you up into his lap when you reach out for him.

“It’s okay baby, you’re alright.” It’s so gentle coming out of his mouth you’d swear it wasn’t Rafe if it wasn’t for the moonlight coming in through the window lighting up his distraught expression scrunched on his face.

It’s been months of this. Of waking up in nightmares that leave you shaking and grasping for Rafe to be at your side, of Rafe doing absolutely everything he can to comfort you, of you trying to adjust to living in Tannyhill with Rafe rather than back on the Cut near Jj’s house where you grew up. You and Jj don’t talk anymore, none of the pogues give you so much as a sparing glance, they’re all too aware of what side you chose when you didn’t flee off that cargo ship with them- you stayed with Rafe.

“I- I was back there-.” Rafe tightens his arms around you with a low shh that you listen to easily, leaning into his touch and letting him start to rock the both of you in place.

“You’re not there, you’re here with me. We’re safe and back in obx, we never have to be there again.” It’s not the fear that was steadily coursing through your veins on that boat that bothers you, really it isn’t, it’s the look of absolute betrayal that spread over all your old friends’ faces.

It’s something you can’t shake and while you know you made the right decision- you, Rafe, and Barry melted the cross down, you’re all rich, Ward isn’t around to bother you, you’re living a better lifestyle than you’ve ever dreamed- it’s still stomach churning to think about the pogues. You don’t even know where they are right now or what they’ve been up to, once they found out you helped melt the cross that was it, you had hope that maybe they’d see where you were coming from but that crossed the line. A line you truly didn’t think existed.

You grew up on the Cut with them, hell you had problems with Kiara when John B introduced her because she had a house on Figure Eight, you never thought you’d end up on this side of island for anything more than a job or a party, you thought you’d be with them no matter what, that nothing that happened would break the bond between you and the other pogues and now-. If you think about this too much you’ll get a headache.

“Shh, go back to sleep. you need it." The feeling of Rafe’s chin hooking atop your head brings you back to where you are.

“I’m sorry.” After that day on the boat where you had clung to Rafe the second you two were alone, crying and scared, slipped so far into your headspace you couldn’t think about that fact that you were hugging around Rafe Cameron- it feels like all you’ve done is apologize to him. The guilt of absolutely everything you do eats at you, no matter what choice you make it ends up hurting someone, you end up being the problem.

“You don’t need to apologize, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Rafe replies with zero hesitation as he always done. He’s never questioned your loyalty to him or said you need to get over what happened with the pogues, in some weird way you think understands it, he doesn’t have anyone but you and Barry left. And even then- Barry betrayed him once, you can still feel the tension between them at times because of it.

“You’re always taking care of me and I’m still a mess.” It took all of two seconds for Rafe to jump into caregiver mode on that boat when he realized that you were regressed, you don’t think he’s ever gotten out of it. Months later and nothing has changed, he’s taken on the role as your caregiver without a single question or judgement made, as if he already knows everything he needs to know to watch you.

“Shush baby, it’s not your fault those pogues put you through so much.”

Logically you know Rafe’s version of events are skewed and probably will be no matter what you say- but it still hurts a little to think he blames them in full. It was your own fault, you went along with every plan they came up with from that first day John B said you guys should go out looking for the royal merchant after that storm, and even if you eventually felt out of your depth and like things were getting too hectic and you wanted to tell them to stop- to go back to how you all were before- it’s still on you.

“They’re never going to forgive me.” You whisper and truly don’t mean to, that was supposed to stay in your head.

“They’ve put you through hell, you aren’t the one that needs to be forgiven, you made the right decision. The smart one.” You nod at Rafe’s serious but soft tone and curl farther into his chest.

“Yeah, I’m glad I have you.” Everything else aside- you’d do anything to keep Rafe around, he’s there for you in a way none of the pogues ever have been and you can’t ignore that.

“You’ll always have me baby.” He presses a kiss to the side of your forehead and lays you both back against the bed, shifting slightly so you can lay over his chest and he can pull a blanket over both of you.

“Try and sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.” You hum to Rafe, letting your eyes slip shut in contentment. He will be here when you wake up, you know that, you’d never doubt that, and it makes some of that guilt slip off your shoulders.

#jj writes #jj events #outer banks agere #little!reader #caregiver!rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron #pouge!reader turned kook!reader #<< I’ll probably write more of this if yall like it

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rickgrimeswifey · 1 year

Text

Overheard gossip pt.2 - Spencer Reid

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Category: Smut with plot

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Season: 3 ish

Warnings: Unprotected p in v sex, cursing, tension all over the place, sub!virgin!Spencer

Word count: 2.6k

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The same night as the incident the team flew back to the headquarters. Y/n knew they’d arrive late so when her shift was over she hurried home. She couldn’t face Spencer, she didn’t dare too. She knew he’d never confront her or tell anyone else what she said because he was too shy and embarrassed about it. But that didn’t change the fact that Y/n was dying from the embarrassment she was feeling.

The week after that day went by fast. Y/n succeeded in avoiding Spencer at work, every time she saw him she’d simply take a different direction in where she was going. Sure, she might’ve been late to some meetings because of it but that was a price she could pay.

It all went well until there was another case about a week and a half later after the incident. Hotch wanted Y/n to come along for this one as she was feeling better now. They were all called to their meeting room where JJ was going to present the case for them. Y/n walked in and took a seat being the first one to arrive along with JJ. Spencer wasn’t anywhere to be seen meaning he was late. The rest of the team took their seats and left the one in front of Y/n empty. If something that's karma for avoiding him.

“Sorry I’m late!” Spencer's stressed and soft voice was heard as he entered the room.

“It’s fine. Just don’t let it happen again.” Hotch warned, not looking up from the file he was reading.

He took the seat in front of Y/n and sat down. Swallowing thickly when they made eye contact, he was nervous. Of course he was, Y/n didn’t think of just how innocent he was. She had ruined this man with her simple words. When she saw Spencer blush she couldn’t help but to blush herself, she knew this meant that they’d have to talk about it sometime. Once JJ was done presenting the case and the team was about to board the jet, Y/n hurried out of the room to grab her bag that was packed and ready to go.

The ride over to Springfield, Missouri was fine. The team went over the information they already had and yet sat in her seat against the wall with Derek beside her. His body shielding off the view of Reid. Before they landed Hotch spoke up;

“So we’re probably going to stay over here a night or two as you all know, catching a serial killer like this isn’t easy with the little information we’ve got to go off. I’ve already made roommates for the hotel rooms. Morgan you’re with Prentiss. JJ you’re on your own. I’m with Rossi and L/n you’re with Reid.”

Y/n’s eyes widened, what did he just say? Now all she could do was pray they solved this case today so that she didn’t need to be alone in a room with Spencer. Y/n couldn’t switch rooms either because Hotch wouldn’t allow it and it would be mean to Spencer. She thought about this room situation until the jet landed becoming more and more anxious about it.

The day went by fast at the police station they set up their clues and got to work at. They had found out some minor stuff but not a name or anything that could tell a location. They’d run down a deadend and it was time to wrap up for today.

Once the team got to the hotel they all split separate ways to go to their rooms. Y/n and Spencer got into an elevator that no one else seemed to be coming into. She cursed to herself mentally, why did the universe want to punish her this much? The ride up to their floor was awkward, she could feel Spencer's breath on her since the elevator was insanely small, only making her stress more and more. They got out of the elevator and went to their room, both of them equally stressed about this situation. Both of them had their key card in their hand more than ready to get into the room and go to bed. Once they reached the door both of the two reached out their hands at the same time to look up the door, only making their hands collide. With her hand over his she began blushing even more. Being the first one to remove her hand after some time before she apologized quickly;

“Sorry…”

They entered the room and Y/n thanked god for the separate single beds. Y/n opened her bag to reach for her stuff for the bathroom.

“Is it okay with you if I use the bathroom first?” She asked, turning to look at him.

All she saw when she turned around was Spencer sitting awkwardly on his bed with his cheeks flushed pink. She had broken this man, he would never be able to speak properly to her ever again. That theory was confirmed when he nodded before turning his attention away quickly to something else.

Y/n took a quick shower, brushed her teeth and then changed before going out into the room again. Spencer was sitting on his bed reading some book she’d probably never heard of before.

“Bathroom’s free” Y/n informed quickly before she went back to her bag so that she could put away her stuff once again.

She heard Spencer walk away to the bathroom and close the door softly behind him, gosh she had really screwed this one up for herself. After a couple of minutes Spencer came out of the bathroom, she noticed he’d change into what she assumed he’d be sleeping in. Y/n got under the covers and texted Penelope about the situation before turning off her phone and getting to bed. She didn’t pay much mind to Spencer as she turned off her bedside table light and snuggled up in the plush hotel bed.

“Don’t you think it’s weird?” She heard Spencer ask.

“What?” Y/n mumbled, too tired to turn around and turn her light on again.

“That we have found next to zero clues on this unsub, it’s almost like this person has been planning the murders they’re committing their entire life…” he explained.

“There’s a theory… Maybe it’s true, but there wasn't anything we could find since the unsubs childhood. I have no clue how they’d be able to hide that too.”

“Maybe we’re missing something…” Spencer speculated, wondering what it was they’d missed.

“I don’t know Spencer. Just turn off your light and go to bed.” Y/n debated with him.

Not a protest was heard coming from his side before Y/n heard the click of the lamp. Next morning Spencer had already occupied the bathroom before his colleague had the chance to wake up. All she could think about was their chat from last night, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. Y/n sat up in the bed and slid the covers off her body. She stretched before standing up and collecting the clothes she was going to wear today. Spencer came out of the shower with his hair semi-wet. The way it laid on his head and over his face made him look like a wet dog. He clearly hadn’t touched it since he got out of the shower. Without thinking Y/n placed her clothes on the bed and walked up to him.

“Let me help you…” she mumbled, face to face with Spencer while reaching up to his hair.

Spencer stood still as Y/n began running her fingers through his towel dried hair, she separated it and placed it into the way it usually lays on him. When she was done she looked into his eyes and smiled.

“Much better.”

Spencer nodded at her shyly before Y/n went into the bathroom with her clothes in her arms. The day at work went by fast, the team found out some stuff about the killer that could help them catch him. The killer was an organized, very smart, narcissist individual. They had gotten a name but it was a dead-end which meant that they’d have to stay over another night. Once they got back to the hotel room Y/n threw herself down onto her bed, frustrated that they couldn’t catch this guy. Spencer just kinda stood awkwardly in front of her, watching as she groaned loudly out of frustration. With her head laid against the pillow she looked at Spencer, wanting his opinion she asked;

“Do you think we’ll catch him? Or is he too smart for us?”

He raised an eyebrow at Y/n, not liking her statement. She saw and caught on to what he meant.

“I’m sorry, you’re obviously smarter than him... I just meant that he just planned all of this so well that we can’t find anything. It’s so annoying.” She sighed heavily.

“You need to think about something else to get your mind off this, you’re driving yourself crazy Y/n.” Spencer explained, now starting to not be able to stand still.

She watched him move his body back and forth. Swaying up and down with his feet. He was obviously also thinking of something that bothered him, you could tell by his body language that he was nervous.

“What’s on your mind?” Y/n rolled onto her side and looked at him quizzically.

Spencer looked straight into her eyes, now being completely still as she’d caught him. He vaguely shook his head meaning that it’s nothing.

“Don’t do that. Tell me, come sit here.” She told him, patting on the bed in front of her legs.

He hesitated before slowly making his way over to her. Spencer sat down in front of her knees, looking over at her nervously.

“What’s going on Spencer?”

“Did you … said … Garcia…” he mumbled inaudible.

“What? I can’t hear you.” She said, wanting him to speak up.

He blushed at her words and Y/n felt bad for him. He is so innocent, she thought to herself.

“What you said to Garcia…” He said loud enough for her to hear. Spencer noticed that she did by the look of embarrassment on her face. “Did… did you mean it?”

Y/n looked at him bashfully. Since she didn’t know what he wanted her to say, she decided to just tell him the truth.

“Yes, I did.”

Spencer swallowed thickly and looked around the room, Y/n wanted nothing else but to ease his nervousness.

“What is making you so nervous?” She asked, she didn’t mean to but it kind of just slipped out.

He put his hand on his lap, sitting as tense as ever in front of her. “Uh- That subject… I don’t know. I- I just… I don’t know…” Spencer stammered.

“You’re inexperienced are you?” Y/n asked, finally getting the hang of his nervousness.

Spencer looked her way and nodded slowly. Of course she’d heard Derek tease Spencer but she didn’t think too much into it.

“Do you want me to make you less nervous?” She asked, raising an eyebrow at him while smirking.

He turned to her and asked;

“What do you mean?”

Y/n sat up and leaned in so that her lips were just hovering over his.

“You want me to show you that this is nothing to be nervous about?” She took his hand up to his cheek and caressed it with the softest touch possible.

The only thing heard from Spencer was a little whimper.

“Tell me Spencer…” she whispered, sliding her hand from his cheek to his neck.

“Yes, I really do Y/n.”

And with that she closed the gap in between them and kissed him softly. Spencer was the first one to deepen the kiss. Y/n guided his hand to her waist where it rested while she kissed him a little harder. After a minute Spencer was the first one to pull away, he needed air. Y/n looked at him, his lips were red and swollen. She lowered him onto the bed so that he was laying on it before she swung her leg over his body and sat on his hips. She leant down and pecked him on the lips before she whispered in his ear;

“Is this okay?”

Spencer whimpered as she moved down to kiss his neck before he managed to get out a small “yes”. Y/n began grinding on his growing bulge which made both of their breathing heavier.

“Are you sure you want this?” She asked caressing his chest while sitting on him.

He groaned beneath her as she began grinding a little faster. “Yes, I’m sure.” He whined.

Y/n leaned down and kissed his swollen lips once again. This time the kiss was more heated and sloppier as she continued grinding harshly against his hard dick. Spencer tried to keep the little moan he was going to let out in by biting on his lower lip, but Y/n stopped him immediately.

“I wanna hear you, don’t do that.”

She continued kissing his lips, jaw and neck while she unbuckled his belt. Y/n easily slid the belt off and then she removed her dress shirt. She continued undressing both her and Spencer until they were completely naked. He gawked at her tits as she hovered over his dick.

“This might feel a little weird at first. Okay Spencer?”

He nodded and soon let out a moan as she slid down his length. Which she by the way was right about. His dick was big, nothing you’d expect on his tall skinny body. Y/n groaned as she began slowly bouncing up and down on Spencer's dick. The guy beneath her was a whimpering and moaning mess. His hands began roaming her body as he was unable to lay still from the intense feeling. Y/n had her hands on his chest for steadiness as his hands found her boobs. She gasped when Spencer’s hand flicked over her nipple.

“Shit, do that again.” She breathed out while speeding up her pace on his dick.

Spencer was coming close, his ability to speak was long gone. He had his hands on her breasts and he kind of just massaged them as Y/n continued bouncing up and down, now far more aggressive than before. He was just coming closer and closer even though they had barely even started. Y/n realized that virgins didn’t last long, she saw in Spencer's eyes that he had no idea what was happening.

“Don’t worry- oh fuck… it’s supposed to feel that way…” she moaned out feeling his dick hitting the right spot on and on again.

Y/n sped up the pace, chasing her own release. Spencer squeezed her tits harshly as his cum shot up into her. She moaned loudly, feeling the warmth in her stomach. Spencer’s hands slid down from her boobs to her legs where they rested as he was exhausted. She knew she couldn’t keep fucking him for too long because he’d be overstimulated. Therefore Y/n’s fingers desperately found her clit and began rubbing harsh circles on it. Moaning even louder now until finally after a couple of minutes her thrusts against Spencer became sloppier before she finally came. Her moans were so loud that SPencer actually became concerned for her, it sounded like she almost was in pain. But when he saw her face he knew she was feeling what he had just felt. She collapsed beside him once he softened and slipped out of her.

“How was it?” She asked out of breath.

Spencer looked her way and met her eyes. “It was really good…” he admitted quietly, as if he was still nervous.

Maybe she’d have to show him again that there wasn’t anything to be nervous about…

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Tag list: (click here to be apart of it!)

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#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x you #spencer x y/n #spencer x fem!reader #sub!spencer reid

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