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fullybooked · 1 month

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What Are My Other Options?

Title: What are my other options? Pairing: Insomniac!PeterParker x Reader Word count: 9.6k Warnings: mentions of cheating (but Peter would never) Notes: F/T = favorite topping Summary: The reader has come to the conclusion that Peter is cheating on them. What else are they supposed to think when he’s always running off and constantly canceling their plans? That he’s Spider-Man?

It wasn’t often that you got a chance to dress up anymore. As a grad student, there was very little spare time to spend on your appearance, and when that kind of rare opportunity arose, you jumped at it. So you didn’t feel bad about spending the last hour in front of a mirror, tossing around outfits, and destroying the closet in the process.

The occasion? The New York Times Gala. You’d been working for the biggest news outlet in the state for your graduate program for investigative journalism, a spot you had fought tooth and nail for. Every News Outlet and invited celebrity would be there, the Daily Bugle, The Wallstreet Journal, USA Today, and you’d heard whispers of Tony Stark attending. You hadn’t even learned until last week that you would be allowed the attend as well. As nothing more than an intern, you hadn’t seen there being a reason.

But your boss had given you the news last Friday, and you’d practically skipped home to tell your boyfriend, Peter, about it. And that you had a plus one. He’d been almost as excited as you.

Which is why you were finding it hard to believe that he wasn’t home right now. He wasn’t getting ready with you, he wasn’t even answering your calls or texts. So while you were excited, there was a bubble of worry hiding underneath.

“Where is he?” You’re muttering to no one but yourself. The last touches of your outfit were going on, and the last train you could take would be at the station in 20 minutes. Your window was closing.

Looking down at your phone while adjusting your choice of red accessories, you start to wonder if something bad had happened to him. After all, New York was crawling with supervillains and regular villains alike. And Peter was equipped for any kind of fight he might’ve run into. Ever since you met him in your first year of college, he had been one of the most peaceful people you’d ever met.

Your red shoes rest by the door, and while pacing your living room, you decide to call his Aunt May. She would surely know if anything, bad or good, had stopped Peter from coming home on such an important night. You click on her contact, resisting the urge to bite your nails from nerves.

It’s only two rings before she answers, “(Y/N)!” she answers happily, “I’m a little shocked to be hearing from you so late, is everything alright? Isn’t tonight your Gala for work?”

Aunt May was nothing short of a saint. Kind and caring, traits she’d taught Peter as she raised him. You adored her, the two of you always got along great when you and Peter volunteered at FEAST or went over for dinner. You weren’t sure if the lack of concern in her voice should make you more worried or not.

“It is,” you tell her as you watch the clock tick on, “but I haven’t been able to get ahold of Peter all night. I’m starting to worry. Have you heard from him?”

There’s a hum of confusion on her end, “I’m afraid not, dear,” she says, “but I wouldn't start worrying just you. We both know how bad he is at keeping time.”

It was true. Peter was chronically late. Normally, it was funny, except for the few times he was an hour late to your date nights. But this was different. He knew how important this night was for you and your career as an investigative journalist.

“I know…” you agree with May, “It’s just…I can’t be late for this, and the last train is leaving in 15 minutes.”

Your phone buzzes in your hand as you speak to her, and you bring it away from your ear to glance at the screen. A photo of you and Peter in front of the Ferris wheel at Coney Island is on screen, his name appearing with heart emojis next to it. Relief floods your system.

“Oh!” you gasp and return to speaking with May, “that’s him! I’m so sorry for bugging you May!”

She chuckles, “don’t be, dear. You two have a good time!”

You hang up, immediately answering Peter’s call, “Pete! Where are you!? I’ve been calling you all night!”

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry,” his voice sounds winded and tired, like he was running, “I just…got wrapped up in something at work, me and Doc were talking about his lab and…I’m really sorry!”

“Well, where are you?” You ask. There was no point in telling him it was okay, because it didn’t feel okay, “the last train is about to leave and we can’t be late–”

“(Y/N), I don’t think I’ll be able to make it,” his voice cuts you off before you can continue your nervous ramble, “Me and Doc are still wrapped up in this lab project and I won’t be able to make it back in time for the gala. I know how important this was to you and I promise I will make up for this tenfold for the next 20 years–”

You could hear the rushing wind of New York behind the phone as he continued on an apology that you didn’t feel in your chest. He sounded sorry, sure, but you could only feel disappointment in his words. Your shoes are on your feet, and you’re looking at the clock hanging next to a vacation photo of the two of you on the beach. Your lack of response is response enough to him, but you’re too busy deciding if you should be angry or not.

“(Y/N),” he says your name, “I can’t say I’m sorry enough, but you’ll do fantastic even if I’m not there.”

“Seriously?! Of all nights, Peter, you have to pick tonight to flake out on me? You know how important this is and you can’t even look at a clock for two hours?!”

You had 10 minutes to get to the train station from your apartment, a task that would surely try and ruin your hour of work on how you looked.

“I know, babe, I’m so–”

You click the end call button before he can finish. Fumbling with your keys, can feel your cheeks warming up in a rush of emotions. First, embarrassment. A couple of people in your office had been excited to meet Peter, and now you would show up alone. Stood up by your boyfriend of 4 years. The gala would go on without him, and you would have to put on a pretty smile to go along with it.

Which is exactly what you did, barely making it on time to walk with your boss into the decorated hall. Telling your coworkers that your boyfriend had eaten some bad takeout for dinner and was at home nursing himself back to health. Hoping nobody saw how your eye twitched whenever Peter texted you before turning your phone on do not disturb.

That night, you locked the bedroom door and left a pillow and blanket on the couch.

★★★★★★

Something you and Peter had in common was your love of pizza. Both of you had differing opinions on the best pizza place in New York, but you did agree that any pizza was better than no pizza. So when you two moved in together, it was an unspoken rule that at least one night a week, you scaped whatever money you had together and ordered a large pizza.

“It’s my week to pick,” you remind him as you sit cross-legged on the couch in your studio apartment, holding the phone of power in your hand, “and I say Benny’s.”

Peter is standing in the kitchen, pulling a can of soda from the fridge, “aw man,” he says, “but they don’t have the good pepperoni.”

“But they have the Italian sausage,” you remind him, already pulling up Doordash on your phone, “and it’s my night.”

Peter looks over his shoulder, a smile on his face that always makes you blush and look away like a teenager, “you’re lucky I love you,” he says, “and I’m willing to part with the good pepperoni.”

You giggle back, “Aren’t I the luckiest? So half sausage half (F/T)?”

“It’s your world, babe,” he says as he walks around the couch to sit beside you, “I’m just living in it.”

“That’s the answer I was looking for,” you look over at him with a grin.

These nights were the ones you loved the most. The two of you in pajamas, ordering your favorite food, waiting for the newest episode of Game of Thrones to air, in the quiet of the apartment. Where the noise and air of New York felt like it was miles away, and your little bubble couldn’t be disturbed.

Peter leans down, his eyes soft when he looks at you, and he kisses you slowly. Every kiss with him, deep or small, left you with fire in your veins. Whether it was innocent or lewd, at home or in the park, an apology kiss or a hello kiss, you always felt like you were walking on the hot air of a volcanic eruption. He pulls away, smiling like he was looking at the sun for the first time.

“Hm,” you gaze back at him, “I don’t care how much you kiss me, I won’t be swayed into Lenny’s.”

He gives a dramatically fake sigh, “There went the plan of seducing you into mushroom on half.”

“Well, I didn’t say that…” you roll your eyes, still smiling. You were always smiling with Peter. Or, most of the time you were.

His phone dings on the coffee table in front of you, the screen face down but illuminating the light-colored wood around it. It caught you off guard for a moment, that his screen is face down. And that he picked it up immediately. But you didn’t let it bother you for long, deciding to order the pizza while he checked whatever notification he had.

Just as you hit delivery, Peter stands up from the couch in too quick of a motion to be reassuring. You jump slightly at his speed, looking back at him in confusion. Tilting your head, you look as he shoves his phone into his back pocket.

“Pete?” you say in an unsure voice, “is everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s great,” he says. The slight rise at the end of his sentence makes you narrow your eyes, “It’s just uh…Doc texted me and uh he says he’s had a breakthrough on this project, but he needs my help with it..”

You can’t hide the disappointment in your expression as he makes a reach for his keys hanging by the door, and for his bag by the couch.

“Oh…” you say, trying to mask the sound of defeat in your voice, “right now? It’s almost nine pm.”

“Yeah, it’s just…a really important project,” he insists as he pulls his shoes on hurriedly. You would think he’d just gotten a call from the police with how quickly he was moving, “and you know Doc, he’s always rushing through the numbers, so I should just make sure he’s got them all right before moving on.”

He was rambling. His voice was rising and falling. Every tell he had that he was lying, but you didn’t want to jump to that conclusion. What was there for him to lie about? What would have him running from the apartment so late? He did care a lot about the projects he and Doc had going at the lab, he was always doing some kind of numbers crunch for his boss.

Peter slows his pace when he takes note of your expression, avoiding his eyes, “I swear I’ll be right back,” he says as he walks back towards the couch where you sat, “30 minutes tops, I’ll be here before the pizza guy, I promise.”

So it wouldn’t be a long late night call by Doc, then. That makes you feel the tiniest bit better, and you give him a small half-hearted smile. What were you supposed to say? No, don’t go to your job that you’re so crazy passionate about? Don’t go help your boss on a project that could potentially change lives? You make no move to stop him.

“I promise,” Peter repeats when he doesn’t see a lift in your spirits. He leans down, pressing his lips to yours again, lighting you on fire from the inside, “don’t start the episode without me!”

You tried to take that as a sign that he meant it. Half an hour and he would be back with the pizza still hot in the box. So you kissed him goodbye and sat on the couch by yourself in the apartment. As soon as the episode started, you hit pause and texted Peter that you had done so, letting him know that every second you were away from Jon Snow would be counted towards your next pizza night.

20 minutes passed, and the pizza showed up with steam rising from the box. His half with sausage and mushroom was untouched as you grabbed a slice from your side. Just because he said to wait on the show didn’t mean you had to wait for dinner.

30 minutes, and you figured he was fighting the night rush on the train. He didn’t answer your text message, but he probably needed all of his attention on his work right now. You don’t make a fuss, keeping the show paused.

After an hour of no response, you get fed up of sitting with just your phone and decide to unpause the show. If he came in and mentioned it, you would tell him to watch it tomorrow night while you were at work. But he doesn’t come back. Even when the episode is over, you haven’t heard the jingle of the keys in the lock.

Two hours late, as you decide to pack it up for bed, your phone buzzes on the coffee table. From the kitchen, putting the box of pizza in the fridge, you heavily roll your eyes. Your disappointment was riddled with hints of anger, but there was also confusion. Peter had always been flakey, he’d always been late, he’d always been absent-minded and forgetful, but you couldn’t stop thinking about the way he’d put his phone face time when around you lately.

It could mean nothing. In fact, it probably did mean nothing, but there was a sense of dread in your gut. You weren’t sure you wanted to face the idea that was forming in the back of your head. Because you loved Peter, you loved him so much you weren’t sure what life had been like before you started loving him. He made you feel safe and seen and understood, he made you feel like someone important in a city where nobody mattered unless they were on the front page of a magazine.

And if there was one thing you were sure of anymore, it was that Peter Parker loved you too. Nothing had shaken that fact over the last four years, and you weren’t sure anything ever would.

But you could still be upset with him when he did things like this. Like bailing on your traditional date night, like standing you up on one of the most important nights of your rising career. You picked up your phone, reading the text from Peter that had come in two minutes ago. All the lights in the apartment were off, and you were ready to tuck yourself into bed.

His message read, “Baby I’m so sorry. I’m gonna be a little while still, please don’t be too mad at me.”

The words “I’m so sorry” were starting to grow old to you. You lock your phone and leave it in the living room with the screen facing up, no response, and your chest getting heavier and heavier as you sit in the empty apartment by yourself.

★★★★★★

He’s just late, you tell yourself, like always. He’s always late.

You couldn’t even tell yourself that he’d never been two hours late befor because he had. Sitting in the corner booth of Leo’s pizza, more dressed up than you should be for a place like this, you try to convince yourself that Peter was late for a good reason.

The train broke down, he’d had his phone stolen, sandman was on the loose again and he had to take the long way here.

But the news was mostly quiet, with no attacks, and he hadn’t even texted you. Again.

You stir the straw in your soda, watching the melting ice bump into the sides of the glass as your mind runs rampant. After Peter had bailed on your pizza and Game of Thrones night, you had been angry and hurt and unable to hide that from him. His apology? Take you out to Leo’s for dinner, your favorite pizza place of all time.

There was no way Peter would stand you up for your apology date. Not even he was the absent-minded, you were sure. You’d been talking about it just this morning over breakfast in the kitchen. He’d given you free rein of the toppings, and he would meet you here after work.

Looking at the clock, two hours had become three, and Leo’s would close in one more. Sitting back in your booth seat, you swallow the lump of emotions that wanted to burst out.

“That boy still not here?” Leo, the man behind the counter, asks you.

The burly Italian man had been witness to your guys’ relationship grow. From your first date to your anniversary dates to your celebration dates. He’d seen it all from behind the counter, and you were sure he would be witness to every other milestone. At least, you had been.

Sitting in the booth alone, you were beginning to wonder if there was anything beyond these four years with Pete.

“I wish I knew, Leo,” you admit and look down at your phone.

It buzzes as you’re looking at it. But when you see Pete’s name pop up, you don’t feel any sense of relief or anger or even sadness. Maybe you just didn’t want to feel it all at once in front of poor Leo. He didn’t need to witness that part of your relationship.

Pete had said, “Where are you at? Working late?”

You couldn’t help the scoff, “he forgot about me,” you say more to yourself than anyone else.

“What was that?” Leo asks when he catches a hint of your mumbling.

You look up from the phone, tucking it away into your pocket, and give the man a tight smile, “nothing, Leo. Sorry for wasting your time.”

Pushing yourself out of the booth, you wonder how you would go about this. Peter had been bailing on you more and more these past few months. With date the gala, with date night, and not to mention the countless nights he comes home so late you think he’s an intruder half the time. Had he always been like this and you were only noticing now that you lived together? Or had you just ignored it because of how much you loved him?

“Not a waste of time,” Leo assures you as you walk towards the door, “you and Peter will come back soon, I’m sure.”

He sounded confident. But you couldn’t even bring yourself to politely agree. You thanked him again. You texted Peter back while taking your time walking towards the train station.

“Well, I was at Leo’s,” you reply, “waiting for your amazing apology date.”

Not even a full minute goes by before his caller ID appears on your phone. You answer it out of pure curiosity, too tired to be angry at him anymore or even upset with him. He’s speaking before the phone can even fully reach your ear. Pete’s voice sounds frantic.

“I'm on my way!” He insists, “just give me two minutes and I’ll be there, I swear, (Y/N)!”

“Forget it, Peter,” you hope your voice doesn’t sound as strained as it feels, “I already left. Go back to work.”

“I wasn’t at work, I was…” He doesn’t seem to have a good answer for her, “Just give me two minutes, (Y/N) and I can still make this date happen, I promise!”

“Peter…” You weren’t sure you wanted to go back to the apartment and face the conclusion you were drawing, “all I’ve heard the past month are apologies and promises you don’t keep. It’s exhausting.”

“I know, I know, I’ve been a shit boyfriend but I’ll get it together, I know I will.”

“Even your apologies need apologies,” you sigh, rocks sitting in your chest and making you walk slower, “how many more nights are you going to stand me up this month alone?”

“None!” He insists, “It’s not gonna happen again, ever.”

“Why has it already happened six times then?” You shake your head as you reach the train station, your stomach rumbling as you regret not getting a slice of pizza to go, “and yes, I’ve counted. That’s just this month!”

There’s no immediate response on his end, and the silence makes the rocks in your chest grow to fill your stomach as well. It was like every conversation you had was giving you more reason to believe that suspicion that you wanted to forget about because it made no sense.

In the night air of New York, you can smell pizza and trash trucks littering the street. And somewhere in the distance, the sirens that were always going in this city. You weren’t sure if it was from your end or Peter’s

“(Y/N), when you get home I swear we’ll talk this out,” he finally breaks his stretch of silence, “I’ll be waiting for you, and you can yell at me for however long you need but–”

You close your eyes for a moment and grip the phone, “do not say you need to go.”

“I have to go…dammit,” he mutters the last word to himself, “I’ll meet you at home, (Y/N), I’ll be there and we can work this out.”

You shake your head, watching as a train approaches the boarding area. One that wouldn’t lead you to the apartment but to somewhere else. You step onto the nearly empty car, watching a few people shuffle out and pay you no mind.

“Don’t bother, Peter,” you say, “I’m staying with my parents tonight, okay? So just go back to whatever work is more important than I am.”

★★★★★★

A very common task given to you at work was getting coffee. Usually, it was the first thing you did in the mornings when your boss handed you a company card and a piece of paper with everyone's order on it. Sometimes throughout the day, you would be sent on other various food and drink runs, but only around meal times.

Sitting at your desk, you were looking over the files on your computer that contained a few of the articles being pitched to your boss that afternoon. Your task was the weed out the “boring” ones by trying to decide what he would deem boring in the first place. You weren’t expecting any kind of task before the meeting, so all of your attention was on the article on your screen.

“(Y/N)!” You jump nearly out of your desk chair when your boss yells your name from across the room, “We need a coffee run before this meeting!”

Your boss was not a man of patience, so you had a few seconds before he got annoyed with your lack of movement. Closing the tab on your computer, you grab a piece of loose paper and a pen and start across the room of office cubicles towards him.

“Your usual, sir?” You ask him in the fake professional voice you’d taken to using with him.

He nods his head and holds up the silver credit card for office expenses, “Yes, and an iced chai for Martha when she gets here, and a vanilla latte with soy for Marcus.”

You scribble down the other orders as you nod your head and take the card, “I’m on it, back in a jiff.”

“(Y/N)!” here it came, “can I get a lavender mocha?!”

Everyone would shout orders at you as you left when they heard a coffee run was being called. Normally, you tried to get out of there as quickly as possible before too many orders piled up. Because no one would offer to come with you to help carry them, and you could only carry so many steaming cups before you were destined to spill them on yourself.

The paper is filled before you’re in the elevator anyway, leaving you with 8 orders of coffee. You liked being at work because you hardly had time to think for yourself. Unless you were doing some kind of food or drink run, and then you had entirely too much time to yourself. And right now, you didn’t want to spend too much time in your head.

For the past three days, you had been staying overnight at your parent's place in Queens. During the day you would be at your apartment, getting ready for work or making your meals, because you knew Peter would be gone at the lab. You hadn’t come face to face with him since the morning he stood you up for his apology date, and it’s because you couldn't bear to look at him. Just the thought of confronting him with the truth made you nauseous. You weren’t sure you wanted him to say it out loud or not.

Your parents hadn’t minded when you showed up, near tears, telling them that you were at least 80% sure that Peter was cheating on you. They’d offered you their guest room and told you to think about things with a clear head. Your mother had been very adamant that you talk to him first.

But you’d been ignoring his calls and texts like the plague. Partly because you wanted him to know what it felt like to be ignored, and partly because you weren’t sure what you wanted to say to him yet. You knew you would talk to him when you were damn well ready, and you weren’t ready. Not this morning when he sent his usual “good morning” message and asked if you wanted to meet for lunch.

Maybe tonight you would talk to him. You would bite the bullet and get the truth, even if you didn’t like what it was.

As you stand and wait for your two coffee carriers, you look down at your phone and all of Peter’s unanswered texts and voicemails. He was persistent, especially when it came to your relationship. You love that about him.

Peter Parker didn’t do anything half-assed. Everything he did from school to work was 100%, and relationships had never been different. At least not until now. He’d loved you as much as you loved him, you had been sure of that until now. You just didn’t understand when that had changed. What had made him back away from you to the point of forgetting about you multiple times a month?

“(Y/N)!” You hear it called from up ahead. You look up from your phone, wondering if your order was done already. But you see a familiar face walking towards you in a grey sweater vest and a head of thinning brown hair with small glasses.

You smile and turn your body to face him, “Doctor Octavius!” You greet, “it’s been a while!”

“It has,” he agrees as he reaches out to shake your hand, “it’s so funny running into you here. I’m here every day for lunch but we’ve never run into each other.”

You shake your head politely, “this is an odd time for a coffee run for me,” you assure him, “so how are you? Things at the lab doing okay? Peter is so excited to be working with you.”

“And I’m happy to have him,” Dr. Octavius says, “he’s passionate about helping people, that boy,” he then waves a hand through the air to laugh, “if only he could be on time for once in his life! But I’m sure you know all about that.”

You give a pained smile, hoping it looked more real than it felt, “You have no idea,” you agree and then try to forget about the sore subject in your relationship, “but I’m sure he’s making up for it with all the late nights, he’s always thinking about your guys’ projects.”

Dr. Octavius laughs while pushing up his glasses, “Oh, I wish we could do late nights,” he tells you, and your heart begins to pound, “I’m afraid I don’t have the funding to keep workers past normal hours. But that’s not an issue for now, I’m glad Peter has some spare time to spend with you. You two remind me so much of me and my wife when were young…”

His word became muffled. No late nights. He didn’t have the funding for late nights. But Peter had been telling you that he was at work, with Dr. Octavius. He’d been telling you that for months. If he wasn’t there…where had he been going? Why had he been lying to you? What was the point of lying to you?

You’d never been the kind of person to tell Peter what he could and couldn’t do. It was his life, his choices, his spare time. Why did he feel the need to tell he was somewhere when he wasn’t? The weight in your chest stretched down to your stomach, and you wondered if anxiety-vomiting was a real thing. It felt like you were about to find out.

“Order for (Y/N)!” Your name breaks your trance as well as the conversation with Dr. Octavius, who was still speaking despite you not hearing it. You look up at the barista counter, where your 8 drinks are waiting for you to grab them.

“Oh, I’ll let you get back to work,” the doctor says as he hears your name as well, “I hope we run into each other again, (Y/N).”

“Me too, Doctor,” you tell him, hoping it sounded scincere, “good luck with your research, I can’t wait to hear about it!”

The doctor smiles, and he’s about to turn away when he looks back at you, “Oh, and (Y/N), great work on that Oscorp piece last week!”

Any other day, you would be ecstatic that someone had read you piece in the back of the paper and at the bottom of the website. Especially after all the work you put into gathering information on Oscorp’s underhanded carbon emissions from half of their facilities. But you didn’t feel that excitement, you hardly felt anything about it. But you thanked Dr. Octavius and grabbed your row of drinks off the counter.

Your brain was in another world entirely as you balanced everything on your hands. Peter had been lying to you for months. Maybe even longer than that. He was bailing on your dates, leaving you alone in the apartment at night to “work.” Still, you tied to put half of your focus on getting back to work in time for the meeting without spilling anything. You only took your eyes off the coffee to check your footing.

But the streets of New York were never kind, not even to those having a month full of bad days. With your eyes on the coffee, you fail to notice an incoming biker barreling down the sidewalk. There’s a ding of a bell that makes you look up, but it was to late to get out of his way without spilling anything.

What’s one more bad day, You think when you realize your situation, on top of all the others?

Still, you yelp as he barely swerves around you, your foot caught under his thin tire. When you jump from pain, your hands instinctually let go of the coffee trays. The smell of lavender and espresso douse your nice work clothes, and hot liquid burning the exposed skin it touches. You jump back from the biker, who was already whizzing past you and disappearing into the city. The edge of the sidewalk was right there, and your heel is already too close to the edge.

“Whoa! Watch out!” You hear someone calling down at you, but what were you supposed to do? You were already slipping into the road and watching as cars didn't bother to slow down.

There’s a burst of air at your side, a hand on your hip, and your feet are barely picked up off the ground before being sat back down a few feet further into the walkway. You saw the red and blue before you could process the entirety of what had just happened. Spider-Man, the walking legend of the New York streets. He was the small time hero whs ometimes got into big-time fights. Your boss absolutely loved him.

You’d never had a personal enounter with the hero before, and you didn’t think you would ever need to. But you’d heard plenty of stories from other people while working. He was a good man, someone who cared about the people of New York, even the small people like you who didn’t have their names on billboards.

“Are you okay?” He aks you.

His voice was a little distorted when you heard it, robitcally. It must be another way for him to protect his identity, you assume. Maybe his suit was more high tech than people realized. You look over at him, wide eyes, coffee all over you, your skin tinted red from the heat, and you say nothing at first. Taking in the situation. Taking in the information Octavius had given you, and the only conclusion you could draw from it.

Spider-Man tilts his head as he lets go of your waist, “Miss…are you okay? Are you hurt?”

Besides the burning coffee your arms an your throbbing foot, you shake your head. But you could feel the emotions you were pushing down starting to bubble over. A month of ignoring signs that the person you loved more than anything was cheating on you, hoping it was all some big misunderstanding. Your job piling more tasks on you because you could take it, with no breaks and hardly time to eat lunch. You just wanted a pizza night with Peter, with your favorite show and your favorite person right next to you. But he was, clearly, with someone else when he was supposed to be with you.

Your eyes start to burn.

“Okay, good,” Spider-Man says with a nod of hs red and blue mask, “that was almost bad. Do you need smeone to uh…walk you back to wherever you’re going?”

Why did he care? You were fine, just getting more upset by the second. Any minute the dams would burst and you didn’t need a superhero seeing you cry over spilled coffee. So you shake your head again, trying to wipe the coffee from your skin.

“That looks like it hurts,” Spider-Man comments when he sees the light burn on your arms, “we should get some ice on that. That coffee shop should have some,” he points to where you had just come from.

You shake your head again, “I’m fine.”

But even to you your voice sounded thick with emotions he woudln’t understand. Hell, you didn’t even fully understand them. What you understand is that Peter wasn’t going to be who you call anymore after a bad day. You wouldn’t go home to him tonight because he would be gone, tell you it was for work, and then turn his phone upside downwhen he got back.

“Alright miss, if you’re sure,” he says, “but some ice water might make it feel better. I’ve had few coffee burns before too.”

You weren’t sure what the final straw was, but you couldn't stop it anymore. The tears fell, and you drop your head into your hands to block it from anyone who walked by. But nobody in New York cared about people who cried in the street, you knew that. You just didn’t want to be the weirdo on this day who broke down in front of a coffee shop. Keeping you cries as internal as possible, you begin to turn towards the coffee shop once more.

“Whoa,” Spider-Man stops you, “Are you okay? What’s wrong? Why are you crying? It’s just a few cups of coffee, we can order more.”

This stranger sounded so much like Peter in his words that it made you cry a little bit harder. Peter was the go to for any kind of comfort. He spoke so calmly when you were loosing it that if made you feel more in control. You hated it right now because you weren’t in control of anything anymore.

Spider-Man places a covered hand on your shoulder that you’re too upset to brush away.

“It’s everything!” You sniffle on the street, people pushing around you without sparing your emotional break a glance, “I’m gonna be late to the meeting because i have to chage clothes, and now I have to get more coffee, and I think my boyfriend is cheating on me!”

Hearing the words out loud, you cries become harder to muffle and tears begin to fall onto your palms. Peter was cheating on you, you were sure of that. There was nothing else that explained his behavior and lies. Normally you wouldn’t wail about your problem to a stranger, but what could it hurt? It’s not like he knew you or Peter, and he would forget about this in an hour when he was pulling a kitten from a tree.

“Wait, why would you…” his voice sounded hurried at first before he stopped and corrected himself, “um why do you think that, Miss? That your boyfriend is cheating on you? I really doubt that’s the case, I mean I don’t know him but I think that’s way out there to assume, not that I know anything about your relationship–”

“What do you care?” You turn from the super hero and back towards the coffee shop, where you try to swallow down your cries and sniffles long enough to order your coffee for a second time.

★★★★★★

Your boss had not been happy to see you appear in coffee covered clothes with a slight limp. He’d been the slightest bit concerned when he also took note of your red eyes and ruined hair, but then told you to go home and change as quick as humanly possible.

But you didn’t move like you were in a rush. Actually, you drug your feet back to your apartment hoping that Peter would really be at work. You didn’t even want to walk into the home you shared with him knowing that he had been running around with someone else while you were there alone. But you had no where else to go and change that was within a one-train-ride distance.

You unlock the door, eyes still stinging at the corners, your clothes sticking to your body. And there was a slight sting in your skin where the coffee had hit. Maybe Spider-Man had been right about icing it. Maybe a cold shower would make you feel better physically and emotionally, but you doubted it.

You open the front door, dropping your keys in the tray by the door.

“(Y/N)! You’re home!” You nearly jumped out of your skin when Peter’s voice came from the living area, “please, we need to talk!”

You look at him as you shut the door behind you, and you wanted to start crying just seeing him. But you held it in and turned away from him.

“I don’t have time for this, Peter,” you tell him, “I’m late for a meeting and I have to shower before I go back.”

“Please, (Y/N) even just a two minute conversation, I swear,” he pushed, walking after you as you went towards the bedroom where you had a bathroom connected, “you don’t even have to talk, just listen.”

“I don’t have time for this!” You repeat, starting to get irritated in the sadness you felt when he spoke your name. You reach the bedroom and make a beeline for the bathroom, wondering if he would disappear before you got out. He follows you up until you close the bathroom door in his face. Your tears fall again under the cold water, and you hope he can’t hear it.

You showered, changed, and blow dried your hair. Not as quickly as you could’ve, but quick enough for your boss to think you moved as fast as you could. Part of you didn’t even want to go back in, but the other option was staying here and facing the music with your boyfriend.

Who was still there when you opened the bathroom door. Sitting on the bed you two shared. His side was strewn about from sleeping, his pillow crooked, the blanks tossed aside. But your side was untouched, even your half of the blankets pulled up. You were always the one to make the bed. He immediately stands up when he hears the door open, turning towards you.

His normally put together hair was frazzed. He ran his hands through it when he was upset. It was one of his tells when he was nervous and tried to hide it.

“Peter…” you sigh as he gets up to follow you from the bedroom, “please, not now. I have a lot to do at work, and I don’t need to be thinking about this while I’m there.”

“You won’t come home at night,” Peter says behind you as you reach for your shoes by the door. They still had coffee marks on them, “you only come back when you know I’m at work, I don’t know when we’ll be able to talk aside from showing up at your work. Which I have thought about, believe me.”

“Then just wait until I’m ready to talk,” you tell him, “what’s wrong with that option?”

“Because I really want us to go back to normal, (Y/N). I want you to come home, and I want to see you next to me in the mornings, and I want to hear about your day–”

“We can’t go back to normal, Peter,” it looks like you were doing this now. There was no way around it anymore. Part of you was relieved, “not after this. I don’t even think there can be an us to go back to.”

“Please don’t do this, (Y/N),” he pleas, approaching you but keeping enough distance between you that you didn’t feel trapped here, “I know…that…I know you think that I’ve been doing something, I know what you think and you have to know–”

“How would you know what I think, Peter?” You ask him, your throat threatening to close, “you’re not around to hear what I think anymore! You’re never here, you’re running out in the middle of the night, you’re lying about where you are!”

“I know that I’ve made some stupid mistakes this past month,” he insists, “but I can fix it all, I swear, and you’ll never have to deal with those problems again.”

Fix it all. He couldn’t fix this. He couldn’t fix the fact that you didn’t believe a single word he said now. Or that you would always wonder if he was looking at someone else when you went out on dates. But you still looked at him and you loved him because you knew what it felt like to be loved by him at one point. When had that changed? When had he stopped loving you? Was it so quick you only noticed now, or had it been so slowly you hadn’t noticed at all?

“Just…” you inhale deeply and try to keep your breathing steady, “tell me the truth…please. Are you cheating–”

“No,” he shakes his head before the question is even out.

“--on me? Are you seeing someone else?”

“No,” he repeats, “I am not, have never, and will never cheat on you, (Y/N), I promise.”

“I don’t believe your promises anymore, Peter.”

“I love you,” he takes a few steps to close to distance between you two so he’s standing directly in front of you. He reaches down for your shaking hands, like he wanted to steady to flurry of emotions you were feeling, “I love you so much, and that is a promise I have never broken. Why do you think that? Why would you ever think I would chose someone over you?”

You pull your hands away from his, sick at how at ease he could still make you feel when he spoke with such a calm voice. You didn’t want to be calm or sad. You wanted to be angry. But his brown eyes only left you feeling small and defeated.

“What else am I supposed to think?” you shake your head and take a step away from him, “what are my other options? Of course there’s someone else–”

“There’s no one,” he presses, “You’re the only person I’ve ever loved like this.”

“So you leave me at a table by myself at Leos?” You ask with a disbelieving headshake, “and tell me you’re at work when Dr. Octavius says he can’t keep you after hours? If you’re not cheating, Peter, then why all the lies? Give me the truth, or I don’t think I can handle being loved like this anymore.”

He doesn’t say anything. Your shoe are on, youre reaching for the doorhandle, and you don’t think he’s going to stop you. That hurts more than anything. Or mayb all of the hurt was piling up and you didn’t know what was the most painful anymore. You couldn’t look back at him for fear you would crack and beg for an answer.

Your hands on the door handle, you want him to stop you, but you refuse to beg him to choose you.

There’s a thwipp sound behind you, and then something cold has your hand pinned to the doorknob. Unable to turn it. You look down at it, and a pile of white spiderwebs is covered your hand entirely. Looking back at Peter, his hand is out and pointed in your direction. His eyes are wide, like he can’t believe what he’s seeing either.

“I-I’m sorry,” he says and takes his hands through his hair in distress, “I didn’t want you to find out like this, but I couldn’t let you walk away thinking that I had cheated on you.”

Your head was going a mile a minute, probably not even on Earth anymore, and you were staring down at the webs covering your hand. Your first coherent thought was that it was Peter you had cried in front of an hour ago, crying about your cheating boyfriend. The second thought was that this also made sense for all the lies and the leaving.

“I’m not gonna stop you from leaving me,” He’s rambling behind you, “even though I’m ready to get down on my hands and knees and grovel for one more chance, but if you need to walk away from me then please just know the truth when you do it. I love you, (Y/N), and that is the only thing I’m sure is true anymore.”

You sniffle, your tears having run dry, “Peter,” you say in a dull and emotionless voice, “can you come get this shit off my hand so I can go back to work?”

★★★★★★

Needless to say, you didn’t get anything productive done after that encounter with Peter. It wasn’t hard to come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t cheating on you. You’d been looking for a reason to do that for a month now. But the fact that he was Spider-Man?

Your Peter, who hated violence, who was as peaceful as a butterfly, who didn’t even like watching MMA fights, was a crime fighting superhero? With powers? And you’d been living under the same room as him for a year and had never noticed?

Your brain was connecting the pieces of every time thing that had happened. Like when the sink handle had broken off one morning in Peter’s hand when you’d first moved into the apartment. You’d laughed about it, thinking about what a funny stroke of bad luck he’d had. Or when he’d come home bruises along his back and say he’d fallen while trying to get work on time. It had sounded true at the time, but Peter wasn’t the clumsy type. Now you knew why. He was coordinated enough to fight super villains.

None of what you needed to get done happened at work. You could hardly process any words you read, and any conversations went in one ear and out the other. Your boyfriend was Spider-Man, you were still grappling with that revelation by the time you got off.

You decided to go home. Now that you knew Peter wasn’t cheating on you, it felt like you could at least see the place again. However, on your walk to the train station, you were hyper aware of every se of sirens that went off somewhere in the distance. Which was every three seconds in New York, and the worry you felt knowing he could be at any crime scene was arguably as bad as the anxiety you’d felt all day.

Of course you could text him. But after ignoring him for three days, it felt only right to talk in person. You hoped you would be home when you arrived, but if not, you would have to wait. It would give you time to think of what you were going to say. Of how you wanted to go about things now that you knew the truth.

You unlocked the front door with anxiety running through your veins. On the other side, the remains of his webs from earlier were still hanging from the doorknob. He’d cut you free with his house keys, and you’d left before you could see the webs closely. When he wasn’t inside, you looked at them a little closer. They were as thin as real spider webs, but you’d felt how strong they were when holding your hand down. Peter was genius enough to make these himself, that’s for sure.

The apartment was empty. You didn’t hear any sign of Peter. So you place your keys in the tray by the door and take a seat on the couch, letting things slowly settle in your head.

You sent Peter a text, “I’m at home. We should talk.”

You honestly weren’t expecting a reply, so you set your phone down and decide to find something to eat. As you silently open the fridge, your options are slim. There’s one can of Dr. Pepper, left over pasta, and a container of uncooked mushrooms in the drawer. Peter clearly hadn’t been shopping while you were gone. You reach for the left over pasta, figuring it was your only option that required minimal cooking tonight.

“(Y/N),” your name makes you jump a mile in the air, a yelp leaving you. Spinning around, you see Peter.

He’s sitting on the edge of a newly opened window that led to your fire escape. In a familiar red and blue suit with a web design on it. The mask is crumpled in his hand, like he didn’t want you to panic when you saw him. His hair is a frizzed mess, and his eyes are staring at you like he was shocked to find you standing in the kitchen.

“You’re here,” he says as you place a hand on your chest to feel how hard your heart is hammering.

He steps into the living area, and you can see the suit in clear lighting. He came in so easily and with skill. Like he’d done it a million times before.

“That’s how you get in without setting off the alarm?!” You ask him in disbelief.

He looks back at the window for a second, and then back at you, “Yeah,” he confirms, “It doesn’t wake you up, and it’s less stairs.”

“Less stairs,” you repeat and nod your head, setting your cold pasta on the counter, “yeah, makes sense, sure.”

Peter puts the mask on the coffee table beside your phone, “you want to talk?” he asks, as if confirming it was you who sent the text message, “I wasn’t sure you were ever coming back, if I’m honest.”

“Well I did ask for the truth,” you tell him, leaning back against the, “I can’t be mad that I got it.”

There’s silence on his end. Like he wasn’t sure what to say next. But you weren’t either. A few things came to mind, but you didn’t know where to start. So you decided on the first thing that came up when you opened your mouth.

“I’m sorry,” you land on, “for thinking you were cheating.”

Peter looks up, eyes wide, clearly not having expected that, “what? Don’t apologize, I’m supposed to be apologzing.”

“Yeah, well, I figured I owe you one too.”

The space between you two felt like miles, but it was only feet. And the apartment felt cold, like you were both avoiding making the first move. You wanted him back at your side, as close to you as he could be. You wanted to sit on the couch with Peter as your peasonal heated blanket, listening to his heartbeat as you fell asleep.

“I owe you about a million more,” Peter shakes his head and finally breaks the distance separating you two, “I never should’ve even let you begin to think that I would pick someone else over you. I should’ve told you the truth years ago, I should’ve told you the moment I realized I loved you, I’m sorry.”

He’s maybe a foot away. He’d closed the distance up until now, and you decide to close the rest. Your hands reach out, the feeling of the suit alien under your fingers, but his warmth reminds you that its him. Pulling him forward, he practically melts into you as you wrap your arms around him. Burying your face into his neck, feeling his hair between your fingers. It was Peter, your loyal and loving Peter.

Peter holds you back. Now you know that the strength he’s holding back is because he doesn’t want to hurt you. How could Peter ever hurt you? He loved you, and you loved him. After too long thinking that that was a lie, it was a relief to know it was still true. Keeping this kind of secret couldn’t have been easy for him, just as it hadn’t been easy for you to think he was being unfaithful.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You ask him as he leans his body against yours, his face buried in your hair in relief, “it’s been years, Pete, you could’ve trusted me with this…”

He lifts his head, only enough so he could press his forehead to yours, “I do trust you,” he says, “but I also love you more than life itself, so I have to protect you above anything else. There’s a lot of people out there who wanna hurt me, and I will not let them use you to do it. I can’t do that to you.”

“Pete trusting me with something like this isn’t damning me to being a damsel in distress,” you inform him carefully, using your hands to gently swipe his messy hair from his eyes.

The apartment was dimly lit, something you’d always complained about, but you could see his face clear as day as he clung to you in the kitchen light. His brown eyes glossy with tears, the freckles dotting his cheeks that you counted when you couldn’t sleep. You though your knew everything about him, every part of him, but he had been hiding an entirely differen life from you. A life that couldn’t have been easy to shoulder all on his own. You couldn’t bring yourself to be mad at him for hiding from you only to protect you.

“I couldn’t risk it,” he admits, his voice as soft as the light above you, “but I also couldn’t stand the thought of you thinking that I didn’t love you with every cell in my body. I needed you to know the truth even if you still left.”

You shake your head against his, “this isn’t going to drive me away, Pete,” you assure him, palms coming to a rest on his cheeks, “what’ll drive me away is the lies. Promise me no more lies, Pete, please.”

He’s nodding his head before you can even finish the sentence, “No more,” he says, “no more lies or secrets, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.”

You believed him. Not just because you wanted to, but because you could feel that me meant it. Every doubt that you’d had in your head is flooded away as you make the first move to kiss him. His lips were as soft as they always were, his movements just as gentle. He was still your Peter, the same guy you fell in love with over Leo’s pizza. He leans forward, pinning you against the counter so he get a solid grip on your waist.

He hoists you up with one hand, and you can’t help but gasp as he lands your butt on the counter without blinking. He chuckles at your reaction, settling himself between your knees in your shock.

“You’ve been hiding this the whole time?” you ask, now more interested than anything else. You lock your legs around his hips, “Pete, we could’ve been having some real fun with this.”

Peter grins, “Trust me, I know, I’ve had a few dreams about it.”

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baldursgate3tempobsessed · 11 months

Note

Please let Astarion meet Tav's family and have a younger sibling like 6 be like im gonna marry the prince points at Astarion.

Tav : Sorry, im married to the prince

NO IM GONNA MARRY THE PRINCE

That's so fucking cute kill me. But I just realized AFTER I finished it I read this wrong 😭😭 I read it as "marry" instead of "married" so whoops now it's an asking for your hand in marriage fic.

Also, I'm going to make this a weird little, unofficial, alternate reality, off shoot of this fic to explain away why Astarion can be in the sun without ascending because I am ~lazy~

Quick summary if you didn't read it, Tav serves Selune, gets a blessing for all the good work, and uses it to cure the anti-light issue of the vampirism (but not all of it). It's not a literal extension of that fic but I'm stealing my own plot explanations. That's it! Now here we go:

Astarion wasn't nervous per se. He was just... on edge. And the two-week journey it took to get here wasn't helping things, not when it gave him so much time to ruminate in his thoughts. He never expected to be in the position of "meeting the family," let alone in anticipation for asking for someone's hand in marriage.

Astarion wasn't even quite sure how his life got here. He had always fantasized that a life without Cazador would be one of selfish hedonism, not one where he would be legitimately concerned about a damn six year old sibling's first impression of him.

But then you came along, effortlessly shattering all of his grandiose plans with a batt of your eyelashes. Perhaps the entire journey of falling in love was more complicated, but it felt like it was that simple. In hindsight, he never stood a chance against you, but it was hilarious that there was a time he ever thought he did.

All of his prior dreams and fantasies felt like nothing in comparison to just being with you. It had been a year since you both saved the Sword Coast, a beautiful, fantastic year. That had ended with him somehow more in love with you now than when he first confessed. Selune's blessing had certainly helped with that he was sure. He still couldn't quite believe that you would use a god's blessing on him of all people, but gods, was he appreciative. Because being able to walk in the sun again meant that he could live the life he wanted, with no restrictions. He could be the partner you deserved, the kind that a father would happily say yes to when asking for your hand.

Which brought him back to his current dilemma. Perhaps he hadn't seen any of your family members in the time you'd been together, but he had heard plenty. You loved them all to death, especially your little sister. You wrote to them constantly, the mere sight of a letter from your parents enough to put you in a great mood for the rest of the day. He was aware that your mother was supposedly a saint, a fact that your own father had instilled in you often. He knew that they had a wonderful, loving marriage and were both higher ups in the Church of Selune. A fact that Astarion didn't particularly enjoy.

As grateful to the moon goddess as he was, he was aware that you were an expectation to the very normal belief that vampires were bad. And that marrying one was one of the stupidest things you could ever do from an average person's perspective, let alone a Selunite.

Why you hadn't done the smart thing and lied about what he was, Astarion would never know. But he did know that the thought of their rejection over his admittedly sordid history was putting him in a tailspin.

"They're going to love you," You said for the hundredth time, giving his hand a squeeze as you led him up the steps to your childhood home, "You have nothing to worry about sweetheart. I promise."

Astarion highly doubted that, but you were already knocking on the front door before he had a chance to argue. The door instantly slammed open, a beaming child already launching themselves at you before Astarion could process what was happening.

But you were more prepared them he was. You effortlessly caught them in your arms, laughing at their excited shouting, "Titi! You're late!"

So this was the famous Arabeth.

"No, I'm not!" You laughed as you settled her on your hip, "And what happened to my little girl's manners huh? You haven't even introduced yourself yet."

The child glanced over at him, like she was just realizing for the first time that someone else was standing over there. She looked a little shocked at the sight of him, staring at him with wide eyes. Wide enough for Astarion to start to wonder if something was on his face.

He gave her a little wave only for her to bury her face into your shoulder, peeking out at him with her lips pursed. Which was not the best start to the whole making his darling's family actually like him plan.

"Well, as you've probably guessed this is Arabeth. She's just a little shy," You reassured as you stepped inside, muttering a quick invitation inside under your breath. He appreciated that, he didn't need the whole house to be reminded of his... limitations.

"But she'll get over it soon enough," You continued as you called into the house, "Mom? Dad? We're here!"

And just like that they were rushing into the room, acting just as excited as your sister had been. Your mother wasted no time in smothering your face with kisses while your father swept you up into a hug. It was a rather impressive display of coordination, considering how they hadn't managed to knock you and your sister to the floor in the process. Astarion was pretty sure they were both saying something along the lines of We missed you! But it was hard to tell with all of you so tangled up in each other.

It was heartwarming to see, in all honestly. Of course such a loving person would come from an equally loving family, what else would he expect?

Though he certainly hadn't been expecting for your mother to throw her arms around him next. She brought him into a tight hug before looking him up and down, "So you're Astarion huh?"

She turned back to you, grinning ear to ear with her hands set on Astarion's shoulders, "He's so handsome! Selune help us, do you remember the last boy you brought home? He had a nose the length of my arm-"

"And that's enough of that," You said with a strained laugh, pulling your eccentric mother back a few inches, "And we've talked about the impromptu hugs. What happened to asking for permission?"

"Sorry, sorry!" She said with a wave of her hand, "Let me try again. I'm Seliras, and this is my husband-"

"Marcoul," Your father interrupted, putting his hand out for Astarion to shake, "It's been awhile since we've met a boyfriend."

"He's a little more than that," You said with a sigh as everyone exchanged pleasantries.

"We'll be the judge of that," Marcoul said with a sharp but friendly grin, the grip he had on Astarion's hand briefly tightening before he let go, "From what we've heard, you're quite the character aren't you?"

Ah, so the interrogating was starting early then. It was nothing that Astarion hadn't expected. Besides, turning up the charm was his strong suit, even when he was uncharacteristically nervous.

Astarion smiled back at him, "You've heard right. And I'm more than happy to answer any questions you might have."

"Oh gods please don't say that," You groaned, but it was too late. Your parents were already leading him to sit, rapid-fire questions coming out of their mouth.

Where are you from? How did you meet? Are you serious about our Tav? What's your religion? Where's your family? What are your plans?

But Astarion answered them all, with only mild censorship for the child's sake. The child who suddenly couldn't stop staring at him. It wasn't exactly easy to sell himself as a future husband when he was a vampiric ex-slave, but he made do.

It was an overwhelming experience to say the least, but not necessarily an unpleasant one. That was one good thing about trying to marry into a family of zealots, it was a lot easier to convince them of your virtue when you received a personal blessing from their goddess.

By the end of the night, they were all throughly appeased, enough so to get off the topic of him for a moment.

"You look a little young to have a thirty-year old child," Astarion said to your mother. He was actively trying to compliment her for obvious reasons, but he was also genuinely curious. She barely looked a day over 40.

"Oh we breed young," She said with a laugh, "We had Tav in our teenage years. Arabeth came much, much later. Our favorite little surprise. Gods, I can't think of a single person in our family who didn't have kids young. Our little Tav is the only exception to the rule."

"But maybe not for much longer, huh?" Marcoul added with a grin, yelping when you lightly smacked him over the head for the comment.

"Do not start the kid talk again!" You hissed out, cheeks red, "We've talked about this!"

Astarion couldn't help but grin at your reaction, charmed by your embarrassment. Though... the idea of the two of you having children together sure was an interesting thought.

Astarion felt a tug on his sleeve while you were distracted arguing with your parents. He turned, smiling when he saw your little sister standing there, still staring at him with wide-eyes.

She took a deep breath before blurting out, "You look like a prince. Are you?"

"Not exactly," Astarion said with a small laugh. That couldn't be further from the truth, "There's no blue blood in my veins."

She frowned, cocking her head at him like he wasn't making any sense. But then an idea obviously struck her as she excitedly asked, "But if you married a princess, then you'd become a prince too. Right?"

"I suppose?" Astarion answered with a shrug.

"So if I become a princess, and I marry you, then you'll be a prince?"

This conversation was quickly becoming out of his depth. But luckily enough for him you were swooping in to save him.

You laughed at her question, turning your attention back to the two of them, "No offense Bethy, but I'm going to be the one marrying this particular prince."

But Arabeth wasn't having it. She crossed her arms, looking at you like she was the one talking to a child, "You can't. Because if I don't marry him, he won't be a prince. So there. I have to do it."

She looked so serious, her facial expressions incredibly similar to your own. Astarion was holding back a loud laugh as you tried and failed to reason with her, "I can marry him without the royal status-"

"No! I'm marrying the prince!"

Your parents were doing a much worse job at hiding their reactions, both of them opening giggling behind their hands as you came up with a compromise.

"Okay, okay," You said with a sigh, kneeling down to look the small girl in the eye, "How about this? I marry him first. But only until you become a princess. Then he's all yours. Sound fair?"

She thought about it for a moment before nodding to herself, "Sounds fair."

Well Astarion wasn't going to get a better set-up then that. He turned to your father, his nerves coming back for a brief appearance, "I'm assuming now might be a good time to ask what I came here to ask. Though I do promise I only intending on asking for one of your children's hand in marriage."

Marcoul nodded slowly, his face unreadable as he spoke, "I mean no offense when I say this Astarion, but you aren't exactly who I imagined for my daughter."

"Dad don't-"

"Darling, let him finish," Astarion gently interrupted, his eyes still locked with your father's.

He took a deep breathe before continuing, "That said, I've never seen her so... herself with someone else before. So yes. The two of you can marry. On one condition."

"Anything," Astarion said instantly, nearly giddy at the fact that he was so close to the official yes, "Just name it."

"You have to have the wedding here," Seliras answered for him, a massive smile on her face, "No ifs, ands, or buts."

"And I get to be flower girl!" Arabeth chimed in, her past indignation completely forgotten as she climbed all over you, "And there has to be chocolate cake!"

"Oh gods, help us," You groaned, but Astarion was already nodding along. He couldn't give less than two shits where it happened or who was involved. He could scarcely believe that it was happening at all. But that was the last thing he had needed.

He already had the ring, the most amazing person he could ever fathom being with. Who actually wanted him back.

Now all he had to do was ask.

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livwritesstuff · 4 months

Text

boston pride is today so here have an edited repost from when i walked in the parade last year

Steve is getting boring in his old age (forty-four, almost).

It was inevitable, he supposes when he looks back, and he likes being boring.

He likes the steady routine of the life he and Eddie (married for seven years, now) have built with their three daughters (four, seven, and nearly ten, a notion Steve is choosing to ignore because there’s no goddamn way Moe nearly has an entire decade under her belt already), and he doesn’t find himself making attempts to mix things up all that often.

Naturally, Eddie is the one to suggest they make the trip into Boston with their daughters for the annual Pride parade, and when he does, Steve isn’t automatically inclined to agree.

Look – Steve knows it’s important for kids to see the world and do new things and all that enriching shit, but maybe he still bears some of the scars from keeping a semi-feral pack of teenagers alive amidst the eldritch hellscape of their hometown, and it’s not like they don’t keep themselves entertained at home – Hazel had finally got the gist of Go-Fish not too long ago and that’s been a whole new ballgame Steve is perfectly content to continue exploring.

In the end, however, the logical side of him (and Eddie’s ever-persistent badgering) wins out, and come mid-June of 2011, they all make the drive into Boston to see the parade.

It doesn’t take Steve long at all to acknowledge that it was a good idea. He hadn’t been to Pride in many years (again – he’s boring in his old age), and he’d forgotten how much fun it is – a true celebration of love and happiness in the face of a lot of fucked up shit and all that. The parade’s pretty good too (definitely a few floats he hopes the girls are too distracted chasing after candy to notice and ask questions about later, but only time will tell), and so is the festival afterwards. It ends up being a really great time for all of them.

Of the whole day, though, Steve’s favorite part is the trip home, a drive that should have only been thirty minutes, but turns into nearly two hours with all the traffic on I-90.

The girls are still riding the sugar rush of an afternoon’s worth of lemonade and fried dough and candy thrown from parade floats (Hazel might be succumbing though, if Steve’s quick glances in the rear-view mirror at the way her eyes are drooping closed are anything to go off of), and it seems as if the day’s contagious joy had followed them into the car. Robbie and Moe have been asking a lot of questions – mostly chatter about what floats were everyone’s favorites and who got the best face paint until Moe, perceptive as she’s always been, hits them with, “What’s Pride for?”

Which turns into, “Why do people think it’s a bad thing?” and that becomes, “So how did you and Papa fall in love?” at which point Eddie, who’d been fielding their daughters' questions so Steve could keep his focus on the stop-and-go highway traffic, launches into a dramatic and involved retelling of how their relationship had begun nearly eighteen years ago.

“So I told him that I liked him and what do you think Papa said?” Eddie eventually asks as he approaches the end of the story.

“What?” the girls ask with eager smiles and wide eyes.

“Nothing,” Eddie says ruthlessly, a wicked grin on his face.

“Alright,” Steve cuts in over the laughter coming from the backseat, “Let’s not be dramatic. I said something...eventually, and it wasn’t even that long later – four hours tops.”

“That’s right,” Eddie concedes, “And then we all lived happily ever after and all that jazz.”

“Good,” Robbie says, “’Cos if you hadn’t, today wouldn’t happen.”

“Hate to break it to you, sweet pea,” Steve replies, “but I’m pretty sure Pride would still happen even if Dad and I weren’t there for it.”

“We wouldn’t be here," Moe corrects him, "All together.”

Steve blinks.

Jesus Christ, these kids are gonna be the death of him. Can’t drive the damn car if his eyes are misting over, can he?

“Yeah,” Eddie says as he reaches over to curve his hand around the back of Steve’s neck, “Yeah, bug, that’s true.”

And thanks goodness for that.

#it's a very sweet moment and then robbie hits them with “so am i gay because you're gay?”#and eddie has to be like “uhhhh no it's not like genetic or whatever”#eddie: also......you're adopted so that's not relevant either #and then they have to explain to hazel what being adopted means (again) and she cries about it (again)#liv's steddie dads verse #steddie #steddie dads #steve harrington #eddie munson

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seongsangssbitch · 8 months

Text

Seonghwa X Reader

Fuck me like you mad at me baby

Pairing Drug dealer Seonghwa X illegal racer(afab reader)

Word count: 8k (4.5k plot)

Summary ⇢ What would happen if you got entangled with your best friend's twin brother, who has an illegal side hustle? It's not like what you do isn't illegal either

Warning: Minors Dni, sub! reader dom! seonghwa, blowjob, edging, overstimulation, smoking, mention of guns and violence, cunnilingus, penetration, unprotected sex, car sex, dry humping, degradation, praise, breeding kink, cigarette, shotgunning, slight choking, begging, drug usage, consensual (tell me if i miss out on something I wrote this at 3am)

Smut with plot

This is my first smut after 2 years specially dedicated to Ash @ygswl thanks for giving the plot idea for real my hands were SWEATING to write a smut like this, hope you enjoy it q(≧▽≦q)

_________

“Junho i swear to god if you don't come to the drift meet which is after 3 days i will gut you like a pig,” you said to your best friend on the way home as he giggled at you

“I promise girl I'm coming, can't wait to see you lose,” he said as you turned to look at him with a long glare

“Want to sit in my car and go for a ride Park Junho?”

He shivered and declined

“I can't trust you with my life”

Before you could reply his phone suddenly rang he picked up hastily after seeing the caller id

“Hyung?” He meekly said as the other line shouted some coherent words you couldn't understand

“Hmm” he replied and cut the call looking at you with a sigh

“Looks like my brother needs me, see you later y/n”

You looked at his disappearing figure sighing loudly cursing his brother for always calling him during important times.

“Seems like bad news already”

Junho walked to the location his brother had seemingly sent to him

He walked through the dark hallways, bodyguards situated every 5 meters apart glaring down at his frail figure, noticing Seonghwa at the very end sitting on his colossal seat manspreading in his leather pants while he ate the apple from the very tip of the knife he cut it with, looking at Junho with that smile on his face. Reaching closer to him, Junho bowed down not looking up as a guard came from behind and held his hands behind his back making him wince a little.

Seonghwa glared at the bodyguard and stood up.

“That’s my brother you moron,” He said threatening the guard as the guard slowly backed away.

Walking closer to Junho, Seonghwa tried to hold his cheeks softly but Junho just looked to the side as. Seonghwa sighed taking out a stash of cash from a duffle bag near them

“That’s for the rent,” He said but Junho just looked down

“I can manage it hyung don't worry about anything” He replied with a shaky voice as Seonghwa just rolled his eyes deeply and sighed

“I don't like owing anyone money, take it this instant”

“You owe me nothing seonghwa hyung, it's my duty as a brother to let you stay in my house” Junho whispered back clearly intimidated by the presence of the bodyguard. Noticing his discomfort Seonghwa dismissed the men around Junho.

“Calm down Junho you know I'm not going to do anything to you,” Seonghwa said his voice a bit softer now seeing his twin be so scared around him.

Honestly, he never knew how he ended up like this

Junho was the perfect model child, the epitome of kindness, and the sweetest child ever who excelled in both school and his life

While seonghwa, the rebellious outcast of the family who was kicked out as soon as he hit the raw age of 18, getting picked off from the streets by a drug dealer and now continuing the legacy 8 years later. He still lived with Junho wanting to maintain the bond but the younger one didn't seem to reciprocate it, since that one day 2 years ago.

“Hyung” 24-year-old Junho happily said walking towards Seonghwa’s office to give him the ice scream he specially brought for him as he suddenly heard a blood-curdling scream

He saw the open door and peeked inside seeing a sight that would make even the strongest throw up.

Seeing his sweet and caring brother throwing the most brutal and violent punches toward the frail body that lay under him, the blood sprayed out the body with every punch he gave him

“You dare fool me with your money twice Jaeyong” he whispered as the body just whimpered under him

“After stealing from us, you dared to even think of selling your wife and daughter to us, for what? Just so you could continue snorting up some drugs while your wife gets forced into prostitution?”

“Why do you care, you're getting the money” the man named Jaeyong whispered as Seonghwa stood up taking a gun from under his belt and cocking it

Seonghwa's eyes narrowed, and he replied with a cold, unwavering tone, "Because I still have morals, unlike you," as he pulled the trigger, the gunshot echoed through the room

Junho gasped outside the door as the icecream left his hand, seonghwa looked out with the speed of light, his eyes going wide as he noticed his brother outside

“Jun-” he began but the younger one had already run away

Seonghwa shivered at the memory looking up to see his brother already walking away with the money bag in his hand

It was the day of the drift meet ,you checked around your Nissan Skyline for some damage, wearing a pink miniskirt with pink knee-high boots and a blue crop top in open raven hair. Junho was nowhere to be found as you frantically messaged him.

Meanwhile, Seonghwa stood at the top of the elevated platform in his faux coat over a golden satin shirt, the buttons opened till his collarbones and leather pants in Alexander McQueen leather boots getting a clear view of the drifters

“Who are you placing your bet on Seonghwa?” His friend asked as he shrugged at him, eyeing a particular raven head as Seonghwa grinned.

“I bet on the drifter with pretty legs,” He said and Hongjoong chuckled at him from the side

“The skyline? Don't be fooled by her pretty face this is her first drift race, she always raced speed before, i wouldn't bet that much money if i were you”

Ignoring him Seonghwa walked down the platform, the click sound of his heels and the chain noises made you look up towards the platform

“Oi Skyline,” he said as you looked around and pointed toward yourself

You looked at the man in front of you who looked eerily similar to Junho

“Junho?” You accidentally blurted out as he poked the inside of his face with his tongue with a sinister smile

“Park Seonghwa”

A tube light lit above your head as you remembered that he was the organizer of the race as you bowed down at him with respect

“I'm betting 3Mil on you, pretty face, if you lose this race, that skyline is mine and if you win I'll gift you something,” he said with a small smirk on his face as he pointed towards your car with his eyes and walked back before you could reply to him

“Fuck” you muttered under your breath, calling Junho again and again but the man still wouldn't pick up.

“If i lose I'm blaming it on you Junho”

A man came from the side and handed you a small packet filled with white powder and you looked at him confused

“It’s called Synth, it’s given especially to the drifter who Mr. Park bets on so the adrenaline doesn't run out,” He said and you hesitatingly took it

“If you lose the race you have to pay for the drug too”

“How much is it” You said eyeing it with suspicion as the man smirked slightly

“You’ll know after the race”

The night air was thick with anticipation as you revved the engine of the skyline. The industrial area served as the battleground for the night's illicit drift race, with a crowd of eager spectators huddled in the shadows, their whispers blending with the distant hum of engines.

"Ready"

"Set"

"Go !!"

As the signal to start echoed through the air, your car shot forward, tires burning rubber on the gritty asphalt. The neon-lit track blurred into streaks of color as the car skillfully navigated the twists and turns, adrenaline pumping through your veins.

The first corner approached, and you executed a calculated drift, the car's tail sliding around the bend. You pulled the gear lever and pressed the accelerator ready to slide around the road.

However, something went amiss. The tires lost traction, and the car veered off course. In an instant, you found yourself fighting to regain control as competitors sped past you, their engines drowning out the disappointed murmurs from the crowd.

Desperation gripped you as you struggled to catch up, but each attempt to close the gap only seemed to widen it further. The once-confident drifts now felt strained and forced, the rhythm disrupted and you kept on confusing the accelerator to the breaks due to the stress. As the final stretch loomed, you could see the finish line slipping away.

The drug seemed to only elevate your anxiety as sweat dripped down your forehead, looking to the side to see the tall man with a ponytail simply taking a puff off his cigarette and looking straight at you with a smirk on his face.

‘That bitch knew i was gonna lose’

With a heavy heart, you crossed the line, the cheers of the crowd now transformed into sympathetic murmurs. You parked your car in defeat, tears threatening to fall out as the engine cooled down.

The man walked down with a smirk plastered on his face

“Seems like the skyline is mine,” He said and you looked at him with anger

“You knew i would lose,” She said and he sarcastically scoffed at her

“A deal’s a deal sweetheart, you lost the drift and now the car is mine. You gotta pay for the synth too,” He said and moved his jacket aside to show you the gun by his waistband as he winked at you while walking away

“There was no deal you simply just betted on me, i came here to have fun not try to get the name of the next DK”

Seonghwa stopped in his tracks and looked back at you with that annoying grin on his face yet again

“A deal’s a deal doll," I said what i said. You've got a good memory for details, I'll give you that. But in this world, it's not about fairness; it's about seizing opportunities. And you just handed me a golden one. Your Nissan Skyline? It's mine now. Don't worry, I'll take good care of it. Consider it the cost of underestimating the stakes in our little game”

His unapologetic answer just made you stomp annoyed and toss him your car keys

“ Let me make a deal with you too then ‘park seonghwa’ if i win the next drift race, give me back my skyline”

He looked at her with amusement and a sly grin, as if he had just met his match, The playful glint in his eyes hinted at the fact that he was thoroughly enjoying the banter and looking forward to the unfolding drama. It was almost as if he found her attempts to challenge him amusing, adding another layer of intrigue to the dangerous game they were playing.

“Ah, using my card against me, I see. You're a gutsy one, I'll give you that. Win the next drift race, and I'll consider giving your precious Skyline back. But let's be real here, sweetheart, the odds are stacked against you. I wouldn't get your hopes up too high. If, by some miracle, you manage to pull it off, maybe we can talk about keeping things interesting. But until then, enjoy the thrill of the chase."

At that very exact moment, your best friend called you as you cursed at the phone picking it up

“I'm coming to your house for the night, don't dare say no,” you said and cut the call angrily strolling towards your friend’s residence, The cold evening air stung your cheeks . Your determination to escape your recent defeat in the drift race was palpable, your quick strides carrying you toward Junho's residence.

Unbeknownst to her, the sleek silhouette of a black Ferrari SF90 stealthily followed her through the dimly lit streets.

With every step, the unease of the recent loss fueled her frustration, and she muttered to herself, "I need to win in the next race" Little did she know that her night was about to take an unexpected turn.

Reaching Junho's house, you rang the doorbell with a sense of urgency, your emotions still raw from the race. The door opened, revealing the dimly lit interior. Before you could register anything else, a voice from the shadows behind you interrupted your thoughts.

"Fancy seeing you outside my house, princess," Seonghwa's voice, dripping with a teasing undertone came from behind you, sending a shiver down your spine. You flinched, your eyes narrowing at the unexpected encounter. The black Ferrari SF90 parked nearby now made sense.

Junho, unaware of the underlying tension, opened the door wider with a warm smile. "Hey, Y/n!, oh hey Seonghwa hyung Come on in," he greeted, his voice wavering a bit noticing his brother beside his best friend but he regained his composure.

As you stepped inside, you couldn't shake off the feeling of Seonghwa's eyes on you .His teasing demeanor persisted, his words carefully chosen to provoke a reaction. "Did you miss me, princess?" he whispered, leaning casually against your ear

Rolling your eyes, you retorted,” You don't have your little bodyguards here to save you if i do punch you, sir." Her dislike for Seonghwa was evident, but he merely chuckled, enjoying her annoyance.

“You two know each other?” Junho asked visibly confused

“Why didn't you ever tell me your brother is organizing the race I'm going to, i would never have gone,” She said sending a glare to Seonghwa

“Oh wait, why didn't YOU come??”

Junho scratched his ear sheepishly as he pulled you with him inside his room.

“My brother denied me leaving the house today, that's why i couldn't come, sorry to not pick up your call,” He said as you visibly rolled your eyes yet again

“Your brother is an asshole by the way, he looks exactly like you but that menacing glint in his eyes puts it off for me,” You said as Junho tried to shush you

"He's not your typical underground race organizer, Y/n. Seonghwa is the mastermind behind PRDGM Glitch and controls the entire underground drug trade. You can't afford to say shit to someone like him, even if he happens to be my brother. And please, be cautious.”Junho cautioned, his voice dropping to a hushed tone on the last note.

Your expression tightened at Junho's revelations, absorbing the gravity of Seonghwa's influence. A mixture of apprehension and determination flickered in filled your eyes as you replied, "I appreciate the warning, Junho. But where did you even get the idea that I'm planning to overthrow him or something?"

Junho sighed, a mixture of concern and understanding etching his features. "You look like you’re planning something."

You met Junho's gaze, appreciating the genuine worry in his eyes. "I'll be cautious, Junho. calm down I'm not killing him or something I'm just going to win the next drift race and bring my car back easy," you reassured, a silent pact passing between you two.

“WAIT what happened to the car?” He asked and you glared at the door which separated your from the man sitting outside

“You should ask your brother,” You said and walked towards the door opening it

Making your way into the drawing room, where Seonghwa waited, Junho couldn't shake off the lingering worry. His brother's world was a dangerous one, and he hoped you wouldn’t do anything rash.

In the drawing-room, Seonghwa lounged in a plush chair, a smoldering atmosphere surrounding him. His tall figure, adorned in a faux coat that cascaded effortlessly over his shoulders, hinted at a mixture of casual opulence and dangerous allure. The sheen of leather pants hugged his legs, emphasizing a predatory grace. A gold satin shirt, buttons undone to the collarbones, revealed a hint of the sculpted chest, adding an extra layer to the enigma he presented.

Seonghwa's eyes followed your entrance with an intense, predatory glint, and a wry smile played on his lips. "Well, well, the princess returns. Missed me, didn't you?" he quipped his words a dance between taunt and intrigue, the tension between you simmering beneath the surface.

As he spoke, Seonghwa took leisurely puffs from his cigarette, the tendrils of smoke curling into the air. His posture exuded confidence, a man spread that suggested a combination of power and nonchalance. The room seemed to bend to his will, and the air thickened with an undeniable magnetism, making it hard to decipher whether it was the surroundings or Seonghwa himself that cast the intoxicating spell.

You just ignored him and sat on the other end of the room next to your best friend

The night just continued, with Seonghwa leaving to his room barely 15 minutes into the conversation. You and Junho continued with different plans to learn drifting properly in the next coming weeks, planning to bring your Skyline back before your older brother notices that it’s missing. As the clock struck midnight, you and Junho stood in the corridor of his house. It had been a night filled with unexpected turns, and you couldn't shake off the lingering tension from Seonghwa's flirtatious jokes earlier on.

"Goodnight, Junho. Thanks for having me," you said, your exhaustion mingling with a sense of gratitude.

"Anytime, Y/n. Sleep well," your best friend replied, giving you a reassuring pat on the shoulder before heading to his room.

As you turned to head towards your room, Seonghwa emerged from the shadows with an air of casual charm. "Leaving so soon, love?" he teased, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

You rolled your eyes, unamused by his persistent flirtations. "I've had enough annoyance for one night."

Seonghwa's gaze followed her, and just as she reached her room, he called out, "Wait, Y/n."

Turning back, you raised an eyebrow, curious about what he might have to say.

He stepped closer, his tone surprisingly gentle. "I couldn't help but notice you don't have a car anymore. How about you take my spare Honda S2000 for a spin? You know, to practice your drifting skills."

You eyed him skeptically, suspecting an ulterior motive. "And why would you offer me your car?"

Seonghwa's expression softened, and he offered a genuine smile. "Call it a gesture of goodwill. Besides, it's a shame to let a talented racer like you be without a vehicle, even if you’re a horrible drifter. Consider it as a collateral so you don't run away from the next race"

You scoffed and looked at him with annoyance and hesitation, contemplating his offer. The sincerity in his eyes clashed with your preconceived notions of Seonghwa as a cunning figure. Eventually, you nodded, "Fine, but this doesn't change anything between us."

Seonghwa chuckled, "Of course not, princess. Just enjoy the ride."

As you entered her room, you couldn't shake off the feeling that beneath Seonghwa's casual exterior, there might be more to his actions than met the eye. Shaking off the feeling you just closed her eyes, reminiscing the eventful day, and drifted off to sleep.

A few days later, you found yourself behind the wheel of Seonghwa's spare Honda S2000. The car, parked in front of Junho's house, was a stark reminder of Seonghwa's unexpected generosity. As you inspected the vehicle, Seonghwa materialized from the house with a nonchalant air.

"Enjoying the new ride?" he inquired, his tone easygoing.

Still wary of Seonghwa's motives, you nodded cautiously.

"It's decent. Thanks for letting me use it."

Seonghwa grinned, and then, in a whisper that seemed almost intentional, he said, "You know, if you're looking for a more private space to practice, my race arena is always available. No prying eyes, just you and the asphalt."

You furrowed your brow, the offer sounding peculiar coming from someone entrenched in the criminal underworld.

"Your race arena? Why would you let me use it?"

Seonghwa leaned in, his gaze appearing sincere. "Consider it a favor. I've seen your determination, and I figured you might want a space to work on your technique without any distractions."

Despite your reservations, you couldn't deny the appeal of a secluded space for practice.

"And what's the catch? Why would you be so generous?"

Seonghwa's smile remained, and he shrugged nonchalantly. "No catch, princess. Just thought you could use a place to let loose. Besides, it's not like I use it all the time."

As you climbed into the Honda S2000, you mulled over Seonghwa's unexpected offer. The lingering suspicion remained, but there was an unintentional sincerity in his words that left you contemplating the complexities beneath his seemingly hardened exterior,but smiled towards yourself softly unknowingly. Something was definitely wrong with you right now. You smacked your face lightly and went back to normal.

The abandoned industrial area, once a witness to your defeat, transformed into your training ground. Neon lights flickered overhead, casting an ethereal glow on the pavement below. You, clad in your signature pink miniskirt and knee-high boots, stood beside the hot pink Honda car, ready to conquer the art of drifting.

Under the dim glow of streetlights, you practiced the art of controlled slides and hairpin turns. The whirr of the engine echoed through the deserted alleys as the car glided seamlessly, tires gripping the asphalt with precision. It was a dance between machine and driver, a delicate balance that required finesse and control.

As the nights wore on, your dedication intensified. The sought solace in the rhythmic hum of the engine, losing yourself in the adrenaline-fueled pursuit of perfection. The once-unfamiliar world of drift racing became a canvas for your determination, and the twists and turns of the industrial terrain became the strokes of your evolving skill.

But the ghost of Seonghwa lingered in the periphery. His presence, though not physically there, cast a shadow over the training sessions. The memory of his smirk at the previous meet fueled your desire to not only reclaim her car but to prove a point. You still couldn't shake off the thought that Seonghwa's interest in you extended beyond the race itself.

One evening, as you pushed the limits, executing flawless drifts with newfound confidence, a familiar figure emerged from the shadows.

Seonghwa leaned against a nearby wall, a cigarette dangling between his lips. His piercing gaze followed your every move, a silent acknowledgment of your progress.

"You're getting better," he remarked, the smoke curling around him like a shroud. "But drifting is more than just skill; it's about instinct, about feeling the rhythm of the road beneath you."

His unexpected advice caught you off guard, and for a moment, the rivalry between you both seemed to blur. However, you quickly refocused, dismissing his words as an attempt to distract you.

The weeks of unwavering dedication shaped you into a skilled drifter. As the eve of the impending drift meet approached, the industrial landscape became a silent spectator to the last-minute preparations. The skyline, once a painful reminder of defeat, now stood as a symbol of your unyielding determination.

In the ensuing weeks, a curious development took place. Seonghwa found himself frequently drawn to the industrial area where you tirelessly practiced your drifting skills. The initial interest to monitor your progress gradually evolved into something more. He observed the precision in your movements, the calculated control you exerted over the car, and an undeniable passion that fueled your relentless pursuit of perfection.

As Seonghwa became a silent spectator to her nightly sessions, an unspoken understanding seemed to develop between them. The once palpable hostility began to waver, replaced by a subtle acknowledgment of each other's presence. It was as if the shared pursuit of a common goal had forged an unexpected connection.

Their interactions transformed from terse exchanges to casual conversations. Seonghwa, still clad in his enigmatic aura, would offer occasional insights into drifting techniques, his comments a blend of genuine advice and playfulness. Y/n, against her initial resistance, found herself occasionally reciprocating with a chuckle or a retort.

The hate that had once burned fervently in Y/n's heart now flickered, giving way to a complex mixture of emotions. Seonghwa's unexpected interest in her progress, coupled with his occasional words of encouragement, created a bridge that spanned the gap between rivals. The lines between animosity and camaraderie blurred, leaving behind an unspoken connection that both refused to fully acknowledge.

As the nights passed, Y/n couldn't deny the subtle shift in dynamics. While the rivalry still lingered in the background, a begrudging respect seemed to emerge. It was a dance between adversaries on the precipice of something more, each move a careful balance between competition and an underlying camaraderie that neither was willing to fully embrace.

It was finally the day of the meet.

The air crackled with anticipation as you stood on the starting line, your heart pounding in rhythm with the distant hum of engines. The neon-lit track awaited the culmination of your efforts, a stage for the next chapter in the tumultuous dance between rivals turned reluctant allies.

The night was thick with tension as you positioned yourself on the starting line, ready to prove yourself in the upcoming drift race. The Honda S2000 roared her engines and the neon-lit atmosphere heightened the anticipation. However, before the race could commence, The chaotic symphony of sirens filled the air, signaling the impending arrival of the police. You left the car there in a hurry and ran to another corner noticing seonghwa running into a dark alley. In the urgency of the moment, You found yourself following Seonghwa who ran through the labyrinth of dark alleys signalling his guards to hide at the places they must have decided some day,

Seonghwa, sensing a presence behind him, swiftly pulled out his gun, ready to face any potential threat. Meeting Y/n's eyes in the dimly lit alley, he let out a soft smile that was barely visible.

"You never struck me as someone who would follow me into the shadows," Seonghwa remarked, his tone tinged with a hint of amusement.

Catching your breath, you shot him a skeptical look. "This doesn't mean I trust you," you retorted, your gaze unwavering.

A shared pause lingered between them, the silence punctuated only by the distant echoes of the ongoing pursuit. Seonghwa took a step closer, the air charged with a peculiar tension that defied the constraints of their rivalry.

"You might not trust me," Seonghwa began, his voice low and measured, "but in moments like these, trust becomes a luxury we can't afford to ignore." His eyes held a sincerity that momentarily eclipsed the calculated edge he usually wore.

Y/n felt a subtle shift in the atmosphere, an acknowledgment that beneath the surface-level enmity, there were complexities to their dynamic. The unspoken connection manifested in the way their eyes locked, and a subtle understanding passed between them.

Seonghwa, seemingly guided by an instinct neither could deny, gently reached out to cup Y/n's face. The touch was unexpectedly tender, a contrast to the adrenaline-fueled escape. Their proximity became a silent acknowledgment of the nuances that defined their relationship.

"You might not have seen this coming," Seonghwa admitted, a subtle smirk gracing his lips, "but there's something undeniable lingering between us,or maybe it is just in my heart"

As the tension hung in the air, you felt a conflicting mix of emotions. The sudden closeness, the vulnerability in Seonghwa's demeanor, and the charged atmosphere became the backdrop to a moment that felt both unexpected and inevitable.

He took out a cigarette from his pocket lighting it up, taking a big puff "you smoke?" He asked and you nodded

"i do, just not today" you said and he sighed at you , taking a really big puff and turning the burnt end towards himself, leaning towards you and enticingly blew it on your face, you looked at him with a wide mouth as he just looked to the side, throwing away the wet end of the cigarette.

He looked up at you,pupils dilated.

As their eyes met in a quiet surrender to the unspoken connection, their lips met in a slow, lingering kiss. It wasn't impulsive; it was a culmination of shared danger, hidden complexities, and a tentative exploration of something that defied the constraints of their roles as rivals. It seemed sudden if a bystander was there, but to the two souls it felt perfect

He pulled back from the kiss, his hand stroking the side of your cheek while the other still grasped the gun in his hands His gaze locked onto yours, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he slowly traced the edge of your jawline with his gun, the love radiating through every stroke. Gliding the gun down your neck towards your chest softly as he still connected his forehead with yours, cupping the side of your face with the other hand.

Seonghwa leaned towards her again, his lips just ghosting above the outline of her lips, stroking her back tenderly

"I want to kiss you again" He muttered against her lips, the vibrations reaching to her soul as she swallowed hard, physically dizzy to even form proper sentences.

"Do i make you nervous doll?" He asked with that 'annoying' grin on his face yet again as you looked up to him, remembering why you were here in the first place, right it was to show him you're capable of proving him wrong.

"You don't," You said with a newly found courage your fingers trailed down along the buttons of his shirt, feeling their coldness against your skin.

Seonghwa leans his hips a bit closer toward you barely keeping any distance as he holds your waist pushing you towards the wall and pinning your hands to the sides

"Why not?" He asked and nuzzled against your neck, kissing against your skin as he brought his hand up holding your neck softly.

You can feel him growing hard in his pants against your leg and your hand travels downward, grazing across the fabric. Seonghwa sharply inhales, eyes closing for a moment as you rub his cock through his pants.

"Because I think we both want the same thing," You said and he groaned against your skin pulling you closer to him by holding your waist. Looked up as his lips met yours again, kissing a bit more roughly than before, his tongue in your mouth while his hands slide down to grip your ass. He guides your hips down on his clothed erection for some friction, fueled by your soft cries of approval. He sits back for a moment just to admire your facial features, his eyes catching the aroused and flustered look on your face before he goes back in for more.

"Never knew you could become even prettier," He said as his hands traveled towards your ass yet again picking you up softly, not breaking eye contact for even a second. You wrap your legs around his waist leaning forward to kiss him again. He walks towards who knows where and walks into a deeper alley laying you on top of a cold hardcover. Pulling back from the kiss he takes your knee-high boots off, pulling you closer to himself.

"Im gonna fuck you on top of your car princess" He whispers against your legs as you look around noticing that it was in fact your beloved Nissan skyline

"Hwa" You softly whine as his hands reach towards your miniskirt pulling it off you and leaving you only in your panties.

He comes near you and leaves a soft peck by lips

"Do i have your permission to proceed doll?" He asked and you nodded, pulling him closer to you by his tie, urging him to take of his shirt as well.

"Use your mouth baby" He said smirking at your completely fucked out state

"Take it off hwa" You pleaded,the last 2 buttons seemed to be impossible to open.

"I want to fuck you stupid so bad, Princess, reminding you that your challenge against me is nothing" He whispered

He pulls back from you before kneeling at the edge in front of where you’re sitting. You let out a shocked yelp when he grabs your bare legs and yanks you toward him. His eyes are dark as he gazes up at you like he’s going to devour you.

The heat coming from his hands and just having him nestled between your legs makes your cunt throb.

“H-Hwa.” You whimper desperately sounding completely needy.

"Tell me how you just lost the deal against me twice princess," He said with amusement dripping in his voice, caressing your thighs open softly.

"I didn't lose the second deal yet" You huff out as he looks up at you with a grin and sinks to his knees. He trails his warm hand up your soft thighs and grips the top of your underwear, Unraveling it with agonizing slowness, relishing in the eventual satisfaction of toying with your anticipation.

He groans softly against your cunt, leaving hot open kisses towards your inner thighs.

His groan makes you clench around nothing. Before you can say anything, Seonghwa yanks you forward and smashes his face into your wet cunt. Any and all coherent thoughts are quickly ejected from your mind. You let out a small moan when you feel his tongue split through your folds, tasting you for the first time.

"Fuck" He moans on your wet folds "You feel so good against my tongue baby"

You toss your head back with a moan. All you can feel is his tongue plunging deep inside you. Every time his nose bumps against your throbbing clit, it sends a jolt of pleasure up your spine.

“S-Shit, Hwa.” You whimper, hands falling on his messy hair.

You can feel his lips shift towards a small smirk in your cunt when you start to tug on his hair. Your cries of pleasure sound like music to his ears, and it makes him more determined to have you begging and crying for his cock. Shifting his tongue towards your clit as he enters two fingers softly inside your cunt with no warning sending your brain into a short circuit and waves of pleasure all over your body.

The sight of your face twisting in pleasure is a sight he’ll never forget.

"p-please, keep doing this hwa" You gasp out grinding your pussy into his face as he keeps licking and fucking you with his tongue and sleek fingers.

Nearing your orgasm you hold his hair tighter ready to let out the most guttural moans you ever would've, when he suddenly unlatches himself, looking up to see your sinfully fucked out face, staring at him with the most killer annoyed eyes he has ever seen of you.

He innocently smiles at you, pulling you up by the waist and kissing you roughly, you wrap your legs around his waist, slowly grinding your pussy on his clothed cock, his hand dropping down towards your ass slowly guiding you to grind on him better. One hand of his reaches towards your short crop top, tearing it apart using his other hand and quickly unclasping your bra

"Do you still not accept that you lost 2 deals against me, princess?"

You shake your head and give him a bored smile.

Seonghwa looked at you with unashamed lust in his expression, hand now trailing the soft flesh of your boobs, Leaning in, you let your lips fall to his pretty neck. His breathing became heavier as you suckled on the skin, he cupped your breasts together, pressing open-mouthed kisses onto your skin. With no more support, you wrapped your legs around his waist to keep yourself steady, simultaneously pushing your breasts closer together toward his mouth. Groaning, Seonghwa nipped you lightly, taking pleasure in the way you whined quietly.

"You like that, baby?"

You nodded, closing your eyes and letting your head fall back slightly. Eventually, he moved his focus to one of your breasts, tongue teasing the nipple as his hand groped the other.

When he pulled away and focused his mouth on your other breast, you couldn't help but wrap an arm around his head, pushing him closer.

You couldn't help but begin to grind down in desperation, your lower half craving stimulation since the moment his tongue left your clit. Seonghwa groaned onto your skin, and the vibration shot up your spine until your brain was completely intoxicated, before you could get any more pleasure from your nipples he pulled back as you whined slowly

"H-hwa why-?" You asked, your voice too shaky to form proper sentences

"Fuck, I don't think I'll ever get enough of eating your pussy", he murmurs, sinking to his knees yet again to take your throbbing cunt in his mouth

Your breathing became irregular, body shaking and arching off the car hood, so fucking turned on, so fucking close.

His mouth moves around your clit, gently suckling and that's all it takes, to near your orgasm yet again.

He pulls back again when he feels you pulsing around his tongue, as a long whimper of pain leaves your lips, A carnal desire takes over Seonghwa when he hears your needy cry.

"I hate you park seonghwa" You whine out as the man simply smirks,taking off his boxers as he helps your fucked out body get off the hood of the car

"Can you suck my dick like a good girl please, princess?" He seductively whispers.

All the past anger of him edging you disappears as you sank to your knees leaning forward to take the tip of his dick in your mouth, eyes rolling back and thighs clenching.

"Fuck" He groaned out holding your hair tightly, you moaned into his dick, loving how he pulled your hair. Your tongue was tracing his cock from the base to the tip whilst you had one of your hands holding the base gently whilst simultaneously cupping one of his balls, the other free hand you used to “anchor” yourself on his thigh, massaging the flesh gently. Seonghwa nearly bucked his hips and let his eyes roll back,a heavenly moan leaving his mouth as the sensation on your cunt intensified. The man's moans were downright pornographic,his moans turned you on more than anything. Seonghwa let out a guttural groan, his head falling forward as you moaned into his dick. His dick feeling heavy on your tongue and stretching your corners out,gagging you occasionally.

"What are you thinking hwa?" You mumble pulling back a bit as you notice his concentrated stare

"whether to cum on your face or your tits" He whimpered out, fucking whimpered it out. Seonghwa had his head thrown back in pleasure as he let out moan after moan. The sounds he made were melodious to your ears, it pumped your ego as you know that you were doing a really good job. You began moaning into his dick, the vibration it produced added even more pleasure for Seonghwa. His eyes opened when he felt like he was seconds away from cumming. Nearing his height,he held your face in its place to thrust into your mouth instead of having you bob your head up and down.

"Look at me while you take my dick in your mouth princess" He moaned out,as you looked up at him with glazed eyes, flushed cheeks, and swollen lips that has his cock slipping in and out of it. With the aid of how you looked, Seonghwa let out a grunt and a last thrust of his hips before cumming hard, filling the cavern of your mouth with his seed. The warm sensation made you close your eyes and moan softly, looking absolutely in bliss,he pulled out of your mouth spreading the warm liquid all over your face.

"Hwa, fuck me please" You whimper as he picks up your body, opens the door of your car, and lays you on the backseat

"You should accept that you lost against me by now baby or the consequences won't do you any good," He said towards your ear, his whole body on top of you as you felt the bulge of his dick poke your stomach

"I'm not giving up so quick Seonghwa," You say and he presses his oozing tip against your entrance without any prep. A needy, pathetic moan stumbles out of you as he fingers your clit from above.

"I'm going to edge you till Sunday if you don't fucking agree that you pathetically lost the deal from me twice," He says and grips your neck, only tight enough to choke you but lose enough to allow you to breath

You exhale sharply as the painful feeling of your orgasm being incomplete reaches your soul and you nod toward him

"I'm just a pathetic loser, Hwa. I've lost to you in that deal twice, and it seems like I can never come out on top," you moan out, your voice laced with a sultry undertone.

"Fuck, you brat, You don't know how long I wanted this" He groans bucking his dick inside your cunt harshly, giving you no time to adjust at all

"Hwa-p-please" You shudder against him, his moans making you see stars

"Hearing you scream my name as you take my cock deep inside you. Having you drunk up my cock just like you're doing now. Fuck, thought about it all the time"

You could only let out a pathetic whine as the man just continued to fuck you

Seonghwa can’t take his eyes off your pretty little pussy and how it swallows his cock so perfectly. His heavy balls are being stained with your arousal as they slap against your clit. He becomes more esurient with every rough thrust.

“You’re already soaking my cock, baby. I fucking knew you wouldn’t be able to get enough.” He grunts as he grabs your hips, quickly growing obsessed with how you feel around him.

His cock is stretching you out so good that you can’t think straight.

“So fucking good.” You mewl as you deepen your arch so he can fuck you deeper.

"God, the second I saw you standing in that short mini dress in front of the whole stadium bending down to check the tires of your Skyline that day, I just wanted to throw you on the nearest surface and fuck the life from you"

One of Seonghwa’s hands trails down your body to squeeze your ass while the other goes around your waist to rub your sensitive clit. He pounds into you harder, loving the cries and whimpers you’re letting out every time he fucks his cock into your cunt. You’re throwing yourself back on him to meet his thrusts, loving how his big cock splits you open with every snap of his hips.

“Gonna ruin this sweet little pussy so only I fit.” Seonghwa growls, spanking your ass harshly.

"im going to fucking cum inside your cunt", he grunts, slamming repeatedly right into my spot, "You want that, don't you? I can feel your cunt get tighter and tighter"

"Yes", you cry, holding onto his arms as tight as you can

"Yes what?"

"Want it", you moan, tears springing to your eyes from the bliss

"Tell me what you want. Say it", he demands

You just whimper as his thrusts become harsher, bucking deeper and deeper inside, you swear you could feel him in your lower stomach if you just kept your hand there.

"Want me to fuck baby in you huh? is that what you want?"

You hungrily let out a whine of approval as he sped up fucking you inside your own Nissan Skyline which you so desperately wanted back.

Thinking back, this car is in fact the reason you have this man balls deep in you, fucking you till Saturn, till the stars in your head faint by

His hips start to snap with a rough precision you claimed he wasn’t capable of, and you wonder how longer it’ll take him to realize that he already proved you wrong.

Seonghwa feels your cunt start to tighten around his cock like it doesn’t want to let go. With the way you’re starting to tremble, he can tell you’re close to falling apart.

"H-hwa please quicker" You whimper,your voice barely audible. The look on your face makes his cock twitch painfully inside you. You look absolutely fucked out, and to think he hasn’t even made you come yet. Seonghwa licks his lips and teases your soaking entrance with his leaking tip. His smirk is deviant, but so hot that all you can do is buck your hips desperately.

"Cum for me good girl" He purred softly as you held the man's thighs, begging him to go faster and break you down.

You scream his name loudly as the mind-shattering orgasm hits you like a fucking truck running at 80 km/ph , ecstasy encircling your whole body. But he doesn't stop.

You heard him moaning loudly about how amazing it felt but all you can do is ride the pleasure out on his cock

The erotic sight of your fucked up red cheeks and glossed-out swollen lips drives him to start fucking into you again. He lets out a deep groan when he sees your cream coat his entire length as you squeeze him tighter than anyone ever has.

Pleasure consumes you and licks up your entire body as Seonghwa pounds his cock into your hot cunt. Your moans turn into loud cries that mix into the lewd squelching coming from where you two are connected when he presses your legs to your chest. The new position allows him to fuck into you deeper than before.

You keep your legs on his shoulders pushing him closer towards you.

"h-hwa f-fill me up please" You choked out, your mind still not wrapping around the fact of how the man hadn't cummed yet.

The moan Seonghwa lets out is downright pornographic. He feels himself going feral at the thought of breeding you.

“You want my cum, baby?” He coos sweetly, heavy balls slapping against your ass in sync with your overstimulated moans.

It’s embarrassing how fast you nod, back arching as you feel a wave of pleasure start to consume you. His cock is throbbing inside you, and all you can think about is milking him for all that he’s worth. “Want it so bad!”

“Fuck.” Seonghwa sucks in a sharp breath. “My doll is so tight for me”

Before he could cum you pushed his chest slightly taking your legs off his shoulder and pushing him towards the headrest, sitting on his lap instead.

"You've fucked me enough love,im gonna ride you"

He just threw his head back squeezing the bottom of your ass as you started grinding on him

"So pretty...bouncing on my cock, fuck" He whimpers yet again closing his eyes and gripping your waist tightly.

You let out a small gasp as he slowly started to thrust upwards into you.

Your cunt is gripping his cock so tightly that it doesn’t take long for him to release his thick load inside you. Your movements grow sloppy as he starts to fill you with ropes of cum. Your soppy cunt is overflowing with so much of his seed that it leaks down to the seat of your car—a filthy sight Seonghwa will never forget.

"Fuck that's it, baby, make a mess all over your car"

You’re both panting as he slowly lets go of your waist. Seonghwa watches you carefully but doesn’t make a move to pull out of you. He wants to keep you plugged and full of his cum, He looked at you with eyes that went beyond lust and arousal, the type of look to make you blush and make your heart pound deeply in your chest, even in this lustful heat-worthy moment.

Seonghwa held your head softly and pulled you towards his chest,patting your head like you were his good little girl.

"Wait did you just say my car?"

"Congratulations princess, the skyline is yours again"

364 notes · View notes

fatkish · 4 months

Note

Can you do some headcanons of Fat Gum, Ryuukyu and Sir Nighteye taking custody of a teen reader who is a reformed villian/vigilante.

Fatgum, Ryukyu, and Sir Nighteye x. Reformed Villain/Vigilante Teen Reader

Fatgum:

You grew up among villains since your parents were villains, they never really taught you right from wrong and kinda neglected you

You mostly just stole in order to survive, taking only what you needed and nothing more

One day you stole but got cornered by none other than Suneater, with little to no choice, you used your quirk to phase through him but ran right into Fatgum, literally

You got stuck in his fat but after you passed out, he realized just how skinny you were

He took you to the hospital and was upset to find that not only were you severely underweight and slightly malnourished, but your parents had been arrested leaving you to fend for yourself

He decided that moment that he would take you under his wing, he’d teach you right from wrong and give you whatever you needed to get on the right path

When you woke up and he told you it was either go with him or juvenile detention, you happily chose him

The first thing he did was bring you food and help you get to a healthy weight

Once that was done, he began to help you with learning to live normally and even helped you learn how to make friends at your new school, Shiketsu Academy

As your life began to change and become more normalized, you thanked Fatgum who decided to adopt you since you needed an active and actual parental figure in your life

From that day on you happily accepted your new dad and the two of you became family

You would try to cook all kinds of different foods and you both would try them, sometimes you made a great dish and other times… well, you believed in not wasting food but that ended up with you in the hospital from having food poisoning so…

You began to have a passion for cooking and would become a great chef all thanks to your dad

Ryukyu:

You were an anti-hero. You did what was necessary to keep others safe and would even kill to protect the innocent

You were skilled in combat and were pretty decent with the use of your quirk

One day you cornered a particularly nasty villain and had nearly managed to take them out but suddenly you were both shot at

You saw a couple heroes and tried to escape only to be confronted by Ryukyu

You tried to escape but after Ryukyu decided to transform, your battle was over

Since you technically had yet to kill, but had incredible skill, the HPSC hoped that you could be reformed into a hero

So they decided that you would be placed in the care of Ryukyu

At first, you tried to sneak out only to get caught every time, you’d constantly argue with Ryukyu on morals and rules, saying that some were stupid and that others needed revision

When Ryukyu saw how you viewed society, she discovered that you weren’t necessarily wrong, but you could definitely go about things in a better way

She decided to help you find a better way to make the changes you wanted to make in society but in legal ways only

As you both grew to have a mutual understanding and respect for one another’s views and values, you decided that she wasn’t so bad and accepted her

As that happened, she too, accepted you and you both became extremely close, almost like family

After that, you would go on to become one of the best underground heroes ever

Sir Nighteye:

Reader was an Orphan and a vigilante who used their own gear that they designed to catch criminals

You never used your quirk on criminals since that would be breaking the law and you didn’t want to get in trouble for that

You had created small devices that were a disguised as bugs like dragonflies and butterflies/moths. You made them contain small cameras and have tracking devices in them

These devices would fly around and would be able to attach small trackers to people or things when they land on them

You used these spy flies to help you with your vigilante work, you’d track criminals to places and use your technology to apprehend them and then alert the police to come and get them

You made sure to wear a mask and hide your identity, you also didn’t leave your technology behind for heroes to find and repurpose or mess with since your creations were precious to you

The Nighteye agency had been investigating your work and were trying to apprehend you but you kept evading them

One day, Sir Nighteye used his quirk on a suspected criminal and foresaw you apprehending them and decided to set up a trap for you

You followed the suspect to an abandoned warehouse where he and his supposed associates were hiding. Only to be caught by the Nighteye agency

When Sir Nighteye saw how young you really were, he decided that your talents would be wasted in Juvenile Detention and that you had a bright future ahead of you, granted, that you stayed on the right path

When Nighteye found out that you had been rescued by All Might as a child when your parents had died in an apartment building’s collapse, he saw how much you admired All Might

When you told him that All Might is an older hero and that he’s bound to retire eventually and that you feared for that day and that’s why you became a vigilante, he knew that you were a good kid and just needed a helping hand to get you on the right path in life

So he decided to take you in and teach you how to become a hero and although he may be strict and seem like a scary and intimidating guy, you both bonded over your admiration for All Might

When you showed him and had explained to him all your technology and how it works, he was curious as to why you weren’t in a hero school in a support course, you explained to him that your orphanage didn’t have the funding to send you to a hero school, which is why you had no other choice but to become a vigilante

After that, he decided to use his connections to enroll you in UA’s support course, to which you thanked him endlessly and hugged him calling him your hero. After that, he also adopted you and became your legal guardian

In time, you and your new friend Mei Hastume would become partners and become two of that century’s greatest technological creators and you both would go to live on I-Island

#mha x reader #bnha x reader #fatgum x child reader #fatgum x reader #dragon hero ryukyu #ryukyu x reader #ryukyu #sir nighteye x child reader #sir Nighteye x reader #mha pro heroes #bnha pro heroes #pro heroes x reader

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threepandas · 2 months

Text

Bad End: Soldier A

I'm pretty sure you know the story. Everybody does. Chosen Hero, Demon King, they fight, save the day, yada yada. Everybody supposedly lives happily ever after. Everything sunshine and roses. Puppies and farting rainbows. But... but it's NOT.

It's really fucking NOT.

I used to love reading stories like that. They were escapism. Grand adventures in a terrible, grey, slowly crushing hellscape of a world. But... but, FUCK. At least there weren't drauger! No demon wolves or skeleton soldiers! Or the FUCKING little flying bastards. God. I HATE those ones the most.

They have sharp, needle-y little claws and teeth like a SHARK fucked a TREE THRESHER. And they scream. Just... yowl and yowl in this ear splitting high pitch like they're trying to DEAFEN you ON TOP of trying to rip you apart.

That life was peaceful.

I was a fool to wish for anything else.

I am not the Chosen One. I'm not even a supporting character. I remember this bullshit little yarn, and I? Am NO WHERE fucking in it. I am just... just some rando, in this struggle of demons and Gods. The child of Some Dude. We... we had chickens. Fat, happy, lil hens.

I remember being ENTRANCED. I had lived all my life, before, in suburban sprawl. So chickens? Strutting around and chasing bugs? Tiny me was hypnotized.

It saved my life.

I half wish it didn't, some days.

That I died, sudden and without the chance to truely comprehend, along side my family. That my neighbors eldest hadn't seen me by the coop. Grabbed me desperately as he ran for his life. Our entire FUCKING village...

There were six survivors.

I was one of them.

And it's... it's all just? FLAVOR TEXT for the Chosen One's tale of Glory. A reason for why she's so NEEDED. So BELOVED. Look how AWESOME she is! Saintess, because when are they NOT? Hero, because it's all about HER. A god damned LOVE STORY thrown in, because THAT'S important, while people are suffering! Dying!

Are? You? KIDDING ME!?

Legends speak of a "Hero's Party". I know damn well it's true. That it WILL succeed. But FUCK that. FUCK waiting for her to "be ready"! To gather allies and turn from some sheltered little rose, into the warrior we ACTUALLY NEED. It's my world too. I was the one who had to help dig out survivors! Tend to the wounded! Fight off swarms! Hold back the dead!

I...! I was the one who had to LOOK PEOPLE IN THE EYE and... AND-!

B-Because sometimes? SOMETIMES?! Those bites DON'T HEAL. Can't heal! They are filled with so much demonic power, that the only thing they CAN do is corrupt. Fester. Poison. Sometimes you're already DEAD and nothing short of the oh so precious SAINTESS could possibly save you.

But she's not HERE... is she?

So you have a choice.

If you're lucky? It's JUST a limb. A chunk of flesh. But more often then not... well... The lucky ones have time to say goodbye. The unlucky ones get to be twisted and used against their friends. Their family's. And if you care. If you CARE AT ALL? You put them down before that happens.

Because they wouldn't want that.

It... it feeds a HATE in me. An ANGER.

No, that's not right... it's more like? It feeds...

A RAGE.

An ugly, burning thing. That's hollowed out my chest. Wrapped around my bones. Fueled by the memories of every innocent I failed to save. By the fear and the suffering, that just keeps dragging on and on and ON. An endless slog that seems designed to break men down. Destroy us.

I feel like it's killing the humanity in me. The kindness I once had. Like I am burning away everything but purpose. And will have nothing left when I am done. IF I am ever done. It... it used to scare me.

Now I am to angry, too tired, to be afraid.

Let me die. I do not CARE. So long as I TAKE THEM WITH ME. Burn them ALL. My brothers in arms, my sisters of war, those that fight and fight and FIGHT? They feel the same. We didn't fucking WAIT. Refused to watch the slaughter. Gaining ground only to lose it, losing ground only to claw it back.

Holding the line.

We can't actually KILL him. We know that. Only the Saintess can actually fucking END this nightmare. But his monsters? Those still fall too steel. And if we are to die regardless, why NOT in defense of our homes?

We've managed to push a path, deep into the Demonic lands. A spear point to stab the heart of HIS damned empire. We... we can hold it. MUST hold it. At all costs. For that flimsy, weak willed, half trained NITWIT of a child. So when she FINALLY gets off her ass and stops making goo-goo eyes at her trainers? She can come and finish the job.

Then get crowned queen of forever or something.

I don't know, I don't CARE. I'm going to buy some damn chickens. Fill a yard with them. Honor my parents and be the best damn farmer this world has ever SEEN.

Another crash against our shields. Screams as someone's arm breaks. As someone else is savaged through a crack in our barrier, as something probably gives. I slam my spear forward. Vital point. Vital point. Ignore the strain. The way your arm feels like a giant is stepping on it. Like some is trying to rip the shield from your grip. Hold... HOOOOLD!

Go for the eyes. Aim for the throat. Kidneys. Arteries, arteries, heart! The spear is wretched from my grip. I shout for another. Reach blindly, trusting my countrymen. I feel the grip of another one pressed into my hand. I slam my spear forward.

The fight goes on.

For hours.

It was some sort of ape-bear chimera things this time. But bigger and with spikes. No ones quite sure if they're in the "fucked up monstrosities" book yet. I'M certainly too dead on my feet to check. I sit an eat some fucking soup. Mmmmm, rations soup. Technically edible! My favorite flavor.

In the distance, sits the Demon King's fancy ass doom castle.

Any closer? And HE might be inspired to actually "deal" with us. I can't wait for the day it-An explosion of noise from the command tent. Everyone's heads whip around to stare, alarmed. But... but that didn't sound... BAD shouting. It takes us a long, long moment. It had honestly been YEARS since some of us had HEARD such a noise. But...?

W...was that?

Excitement?

I passed off my soup to a newbie. He honestly needed it more anyway. Told him to eat. Then got up and headed for command. Something was happening. As I got close, the flap was all but ripped open. A commander, actually? Smiling!? What the fresh hell?

A commander looking for someone. Spots me. Waves me over and in. I jog over. The tent is practically HUMMING with excitement. And there, on the tabke with the war map? Is an old, OLD dagger. Very... magical girl, in design. Flourishes, sparkling, and lovely dispite being what must be... what, centuries old? Worn to hell and back? What IS that?

It's the weapon of a previous Chosen One.

A Holy Blade.

Holy Shit. HOW. Where?! Where AND HOW!? I thought the royal family snapped all those fuckers up too show off! If not them, the Temple! I'm met with seni-hysterical laughs of disbelief.

A PRIEST stole it.

Nearly DIED doing so. Temple's probably FURIOUS. Gonna come to get it BACK, most likely. We're gonna have to move FAST. We're gonna only get ONE chance at this. I nod. Ready for whatever command needs me to do. Hold off some holy knights? Punch a priest? I'll get... SUPER excommunicated, but? Fuck it. If it saves lives.

No.

No they need me to wield the blade. I'm sorry?? WHAT.

It's apparently Maiden Locked. Fucking... Maidens Only! Got lucky? No holy weapon for you! Married but a virgin? Weaponless! Oh, fffffuck yooooou, creepy perv deities. There are LIVES ON THE LINE, in this, a GOD DAMNED WAR, and you LOCK the import weapons behind "mint condition pu-"!!!

The commander cuts of my, frankly, VERY understandable rant.

Hands on my shoulders. Looks me in the eyes. Will I Do This? I would have to take the knife and sneak behind enemy lines. Into the demon kings castle. And try to get the jump on him. NO ONE would be able to go after me. Help WOULD NOT be coming. If I fail... that's it. Game over. The demons would have me.

I laugh.

It is... not a cheerful sound. Not like it once was.

Is it even a choice? Of course I am. Frankly? I hope it hurts. I hope it's slow. Hurts every second and feels like eons. That he BURNS from the inside out. I'm gonna make him EAT IT.

Waiting until night would be suicide. They get stronger at night. Can blend in to the shadows. But they're cocky. They won't expect an attack just before that. So twilight is when I'll strike. Afternoon, when I head out. I... I leave my gear behind. Say my goodbyes.

I'm not the Chosen One.

Just some farmer's daughter with a grudge.

It don't think I'll be making it back. Don't really expect to even succeed. But by the gods... I plan to HURT him. Every piece we chip away, is one the soul behind us doesn't have to fight. I do this not for me. But for the child who will never know the FEAR that I did.

I will die so they don't have too.

The castle is dark. Humming with power I can FEEL but can not understand. Grand and sweeping architecture. Great windows that should let in far more light then they do. A blood red carpet upon bone white floors. The walls are black. It... some how merely stepping inside, seems to suck all color but red from the world. All heat.

I see no one here.

But I hear whispers.

I tighten my grip around the weapon. The only thing that feels WARM. These hallways are designed to make you feel small, I can tell at a glance. I refuse to give in. I am a farmer. A soldier. I do not CARE about your damn castle! I dig deep into my memories, keeping to the walls, and try to remember where the hero found her foe.

I trace the path in my head. Cut out the lost wandering as best I can. Right slightly, then forward, I think. If I am wrong, I can double back. Follow the book's path exactly. I move slow. As quite as I can.

Still... I find no one.

No servants, no gaurds, no resistance of any kind. Something like fear sighs like a specter down my spine, cold and vague. Something is not right. I do not let down my gaurd... but the longer it persists? The worse my paranoia grows.

Finally. The throne room. Magnificent beyond measure, in blood red and monochrome. Rare touches of gold glint and catch the eye. Stained glass giving it all a surreal scene from high above. The runner at my feet plush enough to render my foot steps silent. It is red... so very, very red.

The Demon King leans against one fist, resting on his throne, magnificent and beautiful like a statue brought to life. Carved of pale ivory and obsidian. Just as feeling as stone. A monster. Living testament that what's inside counts most of all. For inside him? Is nothing but a void. A malicious PIT.

I will see him dead.

On silent feet, I sneak forward. Only to freeze at the foot of the stairs to his dais, my eyes locked on his face. Horror seeps through me.

An amused smirk.

"Oh don't stop NOW, you're so close." Breaks the silence. Golden eyes open, lazy and entertained. "By all means. Try."

My grip on the dagger felt almost painful, for how hard I was gripping it. He... he wasn't even bothering to move. Didn't even see me as a threat. F..Fine. Fine then! If it was a mistake on his part or NOT, I would TAKE IT. Any chance. Any chance at ALL.

The pressure of that gaze felt immense. But I tilted my head up, put my shoulders back, and moved. One step. Then another. Up the stairs. Onto the dais. Forward, slowly. I paused, just beyond his immediate reach. Not that it was anything like real safety. I stared. Shaking. Knowing I was shaking and unable to stop.

He sat splayed. Reclined and leaning against his fist, robes rich and arranged just so. The very picture of indolent decadence. It was deceptive. I KNEW it was. A trap. But to get too him... I had to step closer. My eyes moved from the splay of his legs back up to his face. His smirk had grown teeth. I... I refused to run. I would finish this.

I stepped forward. Between his long legs, feeling distinctly like I was balanced over a bear trap, and lifted the dagger. I refused to hesitate. Wait to see if he changed his mind. I slammed it forward. Right through his heart. Glaring, as I looked him right in the eyes. The blade HISSED. Like acid meeting stone.

He laughed.

Grin full of unhinged glee, a vice in the shape of a hand clamped around my wrist, and the world SPUN. I slammed against the floor, the Demon King straddling me, at the foot of his thrown. He loomed. Behind him, above me, shown a magnificent window the lit him from behind. Like a halo.

"You didn't even HESITATE. You'd rip my heart out, if you could. Wouldn't you?" He says. Almost an whisper, nearly a groan, filthy with something that terrifies me and shouldn't BE there. "I KNEW I sensed something. KNEW you were out there."

I desperately try to push the knife deeper. Use everything I can to... to just-!

All I want... All I NEED? Is to see it come out the fucking OTHER SIDE. Please. Gods, PLEASE! End this! I'm gritting my teeth. Snarling. This BASTARD. I HATE him! I HATE HIM!

"Ah~ That's it, little one." He groans. Not even bothering to hide that he's apparently getting off on this. I'll kill him. I'll FUCKING KILL HIM! "Good~, that's right. Just like that. Give IN~♡ I'll take SUCH good care of you. I've always wanted a little pet. Focus it all on me. Give it ALL to me~"

My brain feels like it's on fire. My lungs filled with ash and flame. I hate. I hate and hate and HATE! I can't think. Something is... wrong? Wrong! The blade hurts to hold. Like it's rejecting me. No. NO! I HAVE TO KILL HIM! I may not be the Chosen One but-!

It finally becomes too much. The pain of holding the blade out weighing my hate. It's like ACID. My hand spasming away like I was trying to touch a hot stove. My palm is an ugly red. Wounded.

In one fluid movement, my wrist is released, the blade pulled free, tossed aside, and my wrist recaptured, before I can claw his fucking eyes out. I grit my teeth. Fangs grinding togeth-... wait.... what?

I stare at my hand.

At the black talon like nails where normal nails were, just this morning. And feel... horror. My... my teeth feel weird. My eyes hurt. Sides of my head too.

"Got you~"

He throws his head back in a triumphant laugh. The sound echoing like a nightmare. Even as I watch, the pigment of my skin is changing. Draining away to something even. Something almost too pale. Unnatural.

"I'm so glad you've decided to join me, darling." My hands are slammed down on either side of my head. His face inches from my. Eyes burning with something terrible. "I haven't had a bride in SO long~ following your progress has been FASCINATING. And now! Oh little thing, I get to KEEP you all to myself. Make you GOOD for me. Learn every inch of you. You should be excited, darling~"

"I'm going to make you a Queen."

#threepandas #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere otome isekai #reader insert #yandere isekai #yadere demon king #captured reader #buff reader #long reads #transformation #tw gore #yanblr #demonic reader #soldier reader #bad end soldier a #bad end soldier a au #tw war #demon king

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 8 months

Note

Would you ever write an Edward story where he cheats on Bella post Breaking Dawn or they break up because he falls in love with another human after her? Like a few years down the line, he starts to miss Bella’s human scent, softness, etc. and then he meets another singer or someone whose mind he can’t read and becomes obsessed with them. And it’s angsty because they realize he doesn’t really like vampire Bella and what attracted him to her was her “humanness” so now that it’s gone, he loses interest.

Ichor

Pairing(s): Edward Cullen x human!witch!Reader, Edward Cullen x Bella Swan

Warnings: major regret, kinda feel bad for bella while writing this 😅, falling out of love, for the sake of this story reneesme doesn't exist, kinda creepy stalker vibe from edward?, but what else do you expect from him 😂, sorry this is short :( been suffering from major writer's block

Words: 1443

There was no warmth of life to Bella, not anymore. Edward had fought against Bella's desire to be like him, an immortal. With her warmth went that oh so sweet honeysuckle scent of her singer blood. He missed nuzzling his nose in the crook of her neck, inhaling deeply and listening to her blood coarse through her veins. Everything was cold and hard and unwelcoming now that she was like the rest of the Cullens.

And while he was able to physically love her without restraint now, there was a gnawing dissatisfaction that burned a hole deep inside of him.

He tried smothering it, not let it grow and feed off his lingering thoughts. Just a harmless, passing thought. They'd taken vows, to love one another for the rest of their immortal lives in front of all their friends and family. Edward thought he got his happily ever after with Bella, his singer.

Never did he imagine that he would miss her mortality so much and so greatly. Profound was his distress over this realization as he experienced grief for Bella's human life once more. This time it lingered. Resting on the precipice of his consciousness.

Try as he may, it creeps into his mind whenever he holds onto her golden gaze. Grateful that Bella's special ability wasn't telepathy like him. It would break her heart if she heard the doubting thoughts that grew louder each passing day.

Edward didn't know the exact start date of this swift change in his mentality toward someone he'd loved and cherished so much that he was willing to face both the wolves and the Volturi in order to protect her.

Immense shame rendered him speechless, unable to seek help or advice from his brothers. He'd never kept such a large secret before from them. They'd always held a sympathetic ear for Edward but. . . if he told them about this, Emmett and Jasper might add onto his guilt. Bella was their sister-in-law. His brothers have proven that they genuinely care for her and accept her as part of the Cullen clan.

The world around him was crumbling. Nothing for him to stabilize himself.

Errands that took him away from town were like a breath of fresh air to his undernourished lungs- well, metaphorically.

His outings lasted longer and longer each time. The distance he put between himself and Bella growing larger.

Until something odder happened to him.

He smelled the blood of a singer once more. Each inhalation a spasming jolt shot through him. A burst of honeyed, reduced him to damn near salivating. Edward had almost forgotten the scent. Almost mistook it for something else.

Akin to an apex predator, he's easily guided to the source of such an alluring aroma that has him blind-sided. He doesn't care in that moment who lay at the end of the trail or of the consequences that may befall him from this encounter.

If it hadn't been for your singer blood, you would have blended in with the rest of the crowd in Port Angeles. A typical human female hanging out with her friends; just like many others that night. Unaware of the glowing eyes of the animal stalking her.

But you weren't like your other friends. With his vampire eyes, he saw the glow of your skin; your aura was blinding. Even Bella's presence wasn't as bright as when he laid eyes on you. His honeypot.

He frantically rifles through the crowd's thoughts, tossing them away when they didn't belong to you.

In pursuing you, Edward was essentially damning himself. Each step he took closer to you was like walking into danger itself. A moth to a flame. For the first time in a long time, Edward felt utterly helpless. Weak even.

Then he heard the ring of your thoughts.

And he smiles to himself, listening in as you contemplate leaving early to go home and finish the book you'd started the other day. How it was getting to the good part. Torn that you were also having fun with your friends though.

Subtly watching you from a hiding spot, Edward simply closes his eyes and focuses on the flow of your thoughts in an attempt to get to know you better. Another human girl with the delicious blood of a god.

Bella checks the time on her phone again.

2 am

Edward had left eight hours ago, not bothering to tell anyone where he was going or taking his phone with him. His behavior was growing more concerning. She'd asked Jasper and Emmett if they had noticed this odd turn in Edward and they too agree that something was up with him. Alice did her best to offer a positive take on the issue. Not even Carlisle or Esme had an answer.

Not too long ago Edward had been so attentive to her, relishing in sharing immortality with her.

Deciding to wait in their shared little cottage home, Bella leaves the main Cullen estate and takes to the small pebbled path that led to her home. She remembers how happy they were when Carlisle gifted the cottage to them when they came back from their honeymoon.

Her fingers lazily trail along the rugged bark of trees. Nails lightly dragging across it.

Their life was perfect now. She fit into his world. So. . . why the sudden distance? This was going on to four months now and the decline was becoming more evident.

Her other hand is anxiously drawn to her chest in an effort to comfort her. Bella could hear the cracks in their marriage and overall relationship.

Edward growls in irritation with himself. What an idiot he was following you home. Stupid that he put everything on the line just to be around you a little bit longer.

He kept bargaining with himself that he was only going to stay for an hour. An hour turned into two, then three. . . Until he was perched atop of a tree across the street from your house.

Exasperated he runs a hand across his face, making his way up the brick steps of the cottage.

He shouldn't have followed you back to your home. Now he had that knowledge of your address.

That meant. . .

So consumed in his inner turmoil, Edward was caught off guard by Bella's voice "Where have you been?"

His eyes round in alarm, the only tipoff to his surprise. "Hunting." Well. . . kind of true.

That was not the answer she wanted. Bella's brows furrow with her disdain. "Edward, what's going on? And don't say that nothing is going on because even the rest of the family has seen the change in you."

Hell, why was he thinking about your fragrance? Likening it to standing at the threshold of the divine and savoring the ambrosial nectar that flowed through the veins of gods.

Had Bella's smelled like that? He couldn't recall.

He forcefully pulls himself back to address Bella. He couldn't keep lying to her. Bella deserved the truth. But it would hurt her once the words left his mouth. It would make everything more real to verbally acknowledge it.

"Bella. . ." Edward must have looked scared and pathetic in that moment. He could see his reflection in her golden eyes. Eyes he'd groan to begrudge. "I really don't know what's going on myself. . . but. . ." Sighing, he ignores the consequences that would follow. "I miss your humanness, Bella. Your softness. The warmth of your embraces. Your scent. . . It's-you're just- just not the same. And those were the parts that I fell in love with. Your humanity was what defined you. That delicate balance of strength and vulnerability that all comes with being mortal."

While he'd kept his tone as gentle as possible, that did little to stop the breaking of Bella's face as her lips curl and tremble. The delicate arch of her brows twitch in an attempt for restraint for despite all the emotions she was feeling, Bella's tear ducts no longer produced tears. As with all vampires.

A tremor passes through Bella. The essence of heartbreak etched itself on her face. "D-Do you still love me?"

In a moment of cowardice, Edward averts his gaze from her making the sorrow she felt boil into fury.

"Answer me, Edward. Do you still love me?" Her hands ball up into fists at her sides.

He struggles to find the words to encapsulate the complexities of his emotions.

The quietude of the cottage seemed to amplify the tension that hung between them.

Bella grits down on the back of her teeth, a burning force behind her eyes that made her desperate to cry. "After everything Edward. . ."

"I'm sorry Bella. . ."

#reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #twilight fandom #twilight fanfiction #the twilight saga #twilight saga #twilight #edward cullen #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen fanfiction #edward cullen imagine #edward cullen fanfic #requests #story requests #request

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discotitsposts · 5 months

Text

soft smells

spencer reid x reader who loves cooking and baking cooking and baking with spencer.

fluff! rated e for everyone!

i keep seeing cooking and baking inspo on pinterest 😫

this is the recipe for bruschetta i used.

(i wanna be his housewife so bad it’s insane)

You hear the front door open as you’re taking the tray out of the oven. You’re so excited for Spencer to try your latest creation, you’re not paying attention to your hands and accidentally touch the super hot tray.

“Ow!” You scream. Spencer runs in and sees you cradling your palm.

“Sweetheart, what happened?” He asks, concerned.

“I accidentally burned my hand.” You hiss at the searing pain. You reach for the freezer to ice your burn.

Spencer stops you, “Wait! Don’t ice it! Ice is the worst thing for a burn!”

Spencer makes you sit at the dining table. He grabs a few things from the medicine cabinet as you watch.

He takes a leaf from your aloe vera plant, and cuts the leaf open. He takes some of the gel from the leaf and rubs it gently on your burn.

You wince at the sensation.

He notices and says, “Trust me it will help.”

“I know.” You manage a smile.

He bandages up your palm and kisses it.

“Alright get more of those every hour.” He says smiling.

“More aloe?” You ask, confused by what he means.

“No, the kisses.” He hands you some medicine to help with the pain. You take it and go back to making your bruschetta.

You pick up the bowl you’d premade with the mixture of extra virgin olive oil, garlic, oregano , basil, onions, salt and pepper. Meanwhile, Spencer transfers the bread onto a cooling rack for you.

You brush the mixture onto the bread slices. It smells divine. Then you add the chopped tomatoes. It envelops Spencer’s nostrils and makes his stomach grow hungrier. He tries to steal a slice when you’re not looking.

“It’s still hot Spence. Unless you want your tongue to look like my hand I would put that back.” He sighs and puts the slice back.

You sprinkle basil on the bruschetta and tell Spencer to wait in the living room. He obeys silently. Stomach growling louder by the second.

In the living room, the soft smell of toasted bread and cheese fills his senses yet again. You’d added mozzarella on top and bring it into the living room some time later.

“Cooled off?” He confirms.

“Yes, try some.” He takes the biggest piece and takes a bite. He moans happily when the taste hits his tongue.

“Oh wow!” Is all he can say.

“Delicious. Nothing better.” You say wiping a crumb off your mouth. You look at Spencer whose face is covered in crumbs. His mouth is full. This is one of the funniest things in the world and you laugh.

He tries to say ‘something on my face?’ but all that comes out is,

“Thomeing o ma ace?”

“Yes!” You laugh so hard you can’t breathe and tears fill your eyes.

After he swallows, he kisses you.

“We should make food together more often.”

“As long as you don’t eat it all before it’s done.” You tease.

“As long as you don’t burn your hand first.” He fires back jokingly.

“Oh yeah? What should we make next?”

“Cake!” His eyes light up.

You giddily run with him to the kitchen to go make a cake. You make a strawberry cake together and Spencer decorated it with pink icing and white icing flowers. You slice up some fresh strawberries and add them on top.

It was the best cake Spencer had ever eaten. Even more so, since it was made with love.

the end

tags🍓-

(if you would like to be tagged in all future works you can let me know by commenting a 🍓!)

@whoisspence

@lemonadeinfuser

@fictionalobssed

@exoticisles

@in-another-april

@gallifreyan-idiocracy

#criminal minds #spencer reid #mgg #matthewgraygubler #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction

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fortheloveofwonderland · 5 months

Text

Rusty | Chapter 13 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Summary - Luke finds himself getting acquainted with one of Bandera’s own. When you find a bundle of gifts on Spencer’s front porch, you hatch a plan.

A/N - this chapter kinda came out of left field but I couldn’t leave Luke heart broken so this happened. There are some Spencer x reader snippets but this chapter is very Luke-centric.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - strangers to friends to lovers | angst | smut minors DNI

Warnings - drinking, hangovers, allusions to sex, hints of oral (m receiving), one night stands, needy Spencer, whiny Spencer, swearing, titty sucking, handjob, fingering, ending of this one is pretty angsty.

WC - 6k

Chapter 13 - Friends in Low Places

Luke Alvez was a man of few words, but no fewer were ever spoken from his mouth than that morning as he sat in the little corner booth in Bandera’s lone cafe.

Between sips of bitter coffee from the chipped mug nothing but awkward silence petered around them. Luke couldn’t even bring himself to make eye contact with the other person opposite him. Instead his gaze flitted between his mug and the old clock on the wall, whilst he wondered how long it was polite of him to stay.

His temples throbbed and the coffee didn’t go anyway to stem the taste of that goddamn home brewed whiskey on his tongue.

To say he’d made an error in judgement last night was underselling his stupidity.

Images of the night before flashed in his mind's eyes like a broken movie reel. After leaving Spencer’s lodge he’d needed to take the edge off and found himself in the 11th Street Bar.

The old bar keep had plied him with his homemade whiskey which was quite possibly the strongest substance that had ever passed by Luke’s lips.

It didn’t stop him drinking it, shot after shot, until he was bleary eyed and stumbling on his feet.

When he’d stepped out into the cool night air he’d almost fallen down the high curb, would have landed right on his face if it wasn’t for a strong set of arms steadying him.

“Whoa there partner, careful as ya go.” The voice belonging to the man who caught him laughed.

“Oh Jesus, I’m so sorry. I, uh, probably overdid it a little.”

“No kidding, Cole’s home brew’ll do that.”

There was something alluring about the tall, broad cowboy. Perhaps it was the alcohol in his system. Possibly it was because he was painfully lonely and his heart had taken a beating upon finding out Spencer had moved on.

Whatever it was, it led to him happily going home with the man. He knew, even in his drunken state, that it was a bad idea. He knew using some stranger for sex would not make him feel better in the way he wanted.

Yet he did it anyway.

“You ain’t from around here, are ya?” The man asked him, smiling at Luke.

“Is it that obvious?” Luke chuckled.

“I just never forget a handsome face, is all.”

“Oh.” Luke rubbed his neck. “Oh.”

“What’s ya name?” The man proffered a large hand for which Luke shook.

“L-Luke.”

“Mighty strong name, Luke.” He held onto Luke’s hand slightly longer than a normal hand shake. “I’m Grant, it's nice to meet you.”

Grant, as it turned out, lived very close to the bar. Closer than the hotel Luke planned on staying at and insisted it wasn’t a bother for Luke to stay the night. Honestly Luke was a little lost in Grant’s eyes at this point and probably would have agreed to anything.

Grant offered him a strong mug of coffee upon arrival at his ranch. He wasn’t sure what kind of magic it was sprinkled with but it did seem to help him sober up. But maybe not sober enough.

It was Luke who had made the first move. It had been uncoordinated and unplanned. One minute Grant was talking and the next Luke practically flung himself forward on the couch and kissed him.

“Whoa there cowboy,” Grant chuckled lightly, guiding Luke back by his shoulders. “You sure you’re sober enough to be making these kinds of decisions?”

“I know what I’m doing.” Luke spoke, surprisingly coherently. “I know that I want this.”

And at the time he’d meant it, he did want this. He didn’t realise how he would come to regret it later. But Luke had been unintentionally celibate for too long, not quite getting over the hump of his first time post-Spencer.

Maybe if he could allow himself to take that step, healing his broken heart might not be so difficult.

He couldn’t deny even now in the morning light that it had been an amazing night. Grant was unfathomably good in bed, with his hands, with his mouth. Luke had so many orgasms he still felt a little overstimulated this morning.

It probably didn’t help matters that he’d hurriedly agreed to a shared shower this morning in which Grant awarded him release two more times whilst on his knees.

He hadn’t thought of Spencer last night, but he had however succumbed to thoughts of him this morning. Whilst Grant fellated him in the shower, twice, Luke couldn’t help the way his mind raced over a similar scenario years ago, right before Spencer's arrest, before performing such acts became impossible for him.

Luke didn’t know why Grant had insisted on taking him for coffee this morning but now here they were, in awkward silence whilst they both tried to get out of this situation unscathed.

“I, uh,” Luke cleared his throat. “Last night was fun but I’m heading back to DC later today.”

“Wasn’t expecting nothin’ from ya.” Grant chuckled. “I know a one night stand when I see one. Just doing the polite thing, taking you for breakfast.”

“Right,” Luke nodded, gripping his mug. “I’m sorry, I don’t do this very often.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” Grant smirked. “It’s fine, don’t you worry about me. I knew that dog weren’t gonna hunt.”

“Right.” Luke frowned as the saying went over his head.

“I gotta split anyway. It was nice to meet you Luke.” Grant slid out from the booth and got to his feet, picking up his stetson and placing it back on top of his head.

“Yeah, uh, you too.” Luke stayed seated, offering a meek smile to the man.

Grant threw a couple of bills down on the table before turning on the heels of his boots. Luke watched him saunter away, open the cafe door and step outside into the sunshine. Once he was alone, Luke fell back against the chair and rubbed his hands over his face at his own stupidity. You don’t fight fire with fire, but that’s exactly what he’d tried to do.

He closed his eyes and sat perfectly still, his hangover coupled with the aches and gripes from an extreme amount of physical activity encompassing his entire body. He didn’t need to be back at Quantico until tomorrow.

Perhaps he’d get a room and sleep for a few hours, maybe try and see Spencer again when he felt less dizzy and catch a late flight back to Virginia tonight. But obviously the universe had other plans as his phone started to ring.

He grumbled and sat back up, freeing the device from his pocket and groaning at her name flashing on the screen. He sucked in a deep breath before answering it and putting it to his ear.

“Hey Garcia,” he tried to hide his lack of sleep from his voice.

“Hey, I’m sorry to have to do this but there have been some developments, you’re needed back at Quantico ASAP.” She did sound sorry, which was surprising coming from her.

“Right, fine.” He didn’t have the energy to argue with her.

“I’m sorry, I know you really wanted to see boy wonder, I wanted you to see him too.” She was pouting, he could hear it over the phone.

He was silent for a moment or two, staring back at the clock on the wall. He sighed deeply and rubbed his eye with his free hand.

“I did see him. Last night. I couldn’t wait until this morning.” He admitted, knowing she would get the information out of him one way or another.

“Ohemgee, Newbie! Way to bury the leash!” She screeched, causing Luke to grimace at the way his head pounded. “How is he? What did you talk about? Is he okay out there all on his own? Gosh I do worry about that boy all alone. He can’t cook, I bet he’s lost weight, has he lost weight? Without my constant force feeding him cookies I bet he’s lost weight.”

He waited for her to exhaust her line of questioning before he spoke again, sounding incredibly sorry for himself.

“He’s…he’s moved on.” Luke grumbled.

“Moved on? He’s not in Bandera anymore?” Garcia sounded confused.

“No, that's not what I meant.” Luke sighed again, not really wanting to have to spell this out. “He’s moved on…with someone else. I found him in bed with a woman.” He was met by a wave of silence and he knew why. “I’m on speaker aren’t I?”

“Uh, yeah.” Penelope sounded a little guilty. You’ve got Jayje and Em here too.”

“A heads up in the future would be nice.” Luke downed the coffee and forced himself to his feet.

“Sorry, Luke.” Emily’s voice carried down the phone as Luke headed towards the door.

“I had no idea he’d met someone.” JJ added.

“Yeah well, I think it’s been a long time since any of us really knew him.” He threw open the door and squinted at the assault of sunlight when he stepped outside.

“I know this isn’t what you want to hear,” Penelope prefaced and Luke held his breath. “And don’t get me wrong, as much as you grate on me Newbie, I do want you to be happy. That being said, is it wrong of me for wanting the same for Reid?”

Luke huffed down the steps of the cafe towards his SUV.

“No, of course it isn’t.” He agreed. “I want him to be happy too. A part of me is glad that he’s not completely on his own here but it doesn’t stop me wishing that he could have found that happiness with me. Is this what closure is like, Prentiss?”

In Penelope’s bat cave, she and JJ looked at Emily with pinched brows, not having been privy to her conversation with Luke at the San Antonio PD.

“Unfortunately so.” Emily ignored them. “It’s probably better that you know rather than always wondering. You might finally be able to close that book now.”

“I’m, uh, I’m just heading to my car, Garcia can you get me on the next flight back to Virginia?” He changed the subject as he unlocked the SUV and slid inside.

“Of course.” She agreed, without her usual flare. “I’ll have the details sent right over.”

“Thanks. Guess I’ll see you all soon.” He sighed once again.

“Alvez, wait a second.” Emily’s voice sounded again.

There was shuffling in which he ascertained she had taken him off of speaker and left the room.

“Yeah Prentiss?”

“I know this is hard, but don’t let this destroy you. I love Spencer just as much as anyone but he is not known for dealing with his problems in a healthy way. Don’t let him break you. You can do better.”

Luke felt tears sting his eyes and he closed them to stop them falling. He leant back against the driver’s seat.

“Thanks, Em. I’ll try.” He mumbled.

“I mean you’re already trying right?” Emily’s voice had a hint of amusement to it. “What was his name?”

Luke’s eyes shot back open and he stared down at his phone in his hand with a deep frown.

“Excuse me?”

“I might have been keeping tabs on you, a part of me didn’t think you’d make it to Reid’s ranch.” She was smiling, he could hear it in her voice. “I checked your GPS coordinates a few times and you never made it to the hotel.”

Luke shook his head as a dry chuckle left his lips. He wasn’t even surprised.

“His name's Grant, I met him at a bar last night.” Luke confessed.

“Hmm, sounds like it could be promising.” Emily was walking, he could hear her footsteps.

“It was a one night stand. And anyway, we live like two thousand miles apart.” He couldn’t help the way he thought that Spencer would know the exact mileage.

“Distance is nothing.” Emily clucked. “You had a good time, yes?”

“Hmm,” Luke nodded, feeling a pleasurable coiling in his stomach when he thought of last night.

“Sometimes when one story ends, another begins.” She mused. “All I’m saying is, would it be the worst thing in the world if you stayed in touch?”

Luke closed his eyes again, picturing the tall, strong cowboy and feeling a shiver pass up his spine. It would not be the worst thing, far from it.

“I gotta go.” He replied. “Got a couple of things I need to take care of before I head back.”

“Okay,” the amusement danced in her tone. “Good luck with that.”

Luke hung up the phone and started the engine. And as if on muscle memory, he started in the direction of Grant’s ranch.

***

You found yourself alone in bed when you woke up the next morning. For a few moments you felt lighter than air. All of your secrets were out in the open, you and Spencer now knew each other on the deepest level. He’d told you he loved you, things were looking up.

But why were you alone?

And then the panic set in. You lept out of bed and hurriedly threw your clothes back on as your heart thundered inside of your chest. Spencer was turning you in. He was on the phone to Luke getting him back here to have you arrested.

You needed to run.

Your panic was thankfully short lived. Upon rushing out of the bedroom you found a breakfast display much like that he’d left on your doorstep a while ago. A bowl of cereal, a fresh mug of lemon and honey tea and a glass of OJ. This one also had a note to accompany it in his near illegible writing.

I didn’t want to wake you because you looked so peaceful. I’ll be up at the field when you’re awake. Take your time, have breakfast, take a shower or have a bath or something. I’ll always be close by.

Oh and by the way, I love you.

Your heart soared inside your chest and a smile stretched across your face as you read the words over and over again in your head. You felt a small pang of guilt of thinking even for a second he would turn his back on you.

You ate the cereal and drank the tea and orange juice before making your way back through to the bathroom. Catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirrored cabinet you spotted the distinctive red blotchy bruise on the front of your throat from Spencer’s lip sucking on your flesh. It made a warmth spread throughout your body at the mere thought.

You brushed your fingers over it a few times, slightly light headed by the way he had marked you. Eventually you turned away and stripped back out of your clothes before hopping in the shower, allowing the water to cleanse you the way your confessions last night had.

***

Spencer had awoken early, as was the norm for him, and quietly slipped out of bed so as not to disturb you. He showered and washed his hair, one of the harder tasks when only having the use of one hand, and played all the events of the past twelve hours over in his head.

Having Luke show up here could have been Spencer’s unravelling. If Luke had arrived here prior to Spencer meeting you, the events could have transpired a lot differently.

Despite it all, Spencer did still love Luke, there was no denying that even from himself. Before you, Luke was Spencer’s only real tangible love. Of course there had been Maeve but there was always a distance between them, he was never able to love her up close.

Spencer had loved Luke in all the ways he’d ever heard talked about. It was a story book kind of love, the likes of which Spencer never expected to find. Luke was supposed to be the end of Spencer’s story and even sometimes still he struggled to really comprehend that it was over.

Him showing up here could have been detrimental to Spencer’s mental health. If he hadn’t been for you.

He knew already, in spite of how little time he’d known you, that you were the big love of his life. And Luke somehow knew it too.

“You were the love of my life.”

“I know.”

“But I wasn’t yours.”

For the last two years Spencer hadn’t been able to let himself consider the way in which his departure hurt Luke. He only had the capacity to focus on his own well-being.

Maybe that was selfish of him. He disappeared without a goodbye to anyone, he owed Luke a goodbye at the very least.

But Spencer hadn’t thought about the hurt that would cause, could only reconcile himself with his own need to escape. Seeing Luke made him acutely aware of just how much pain his absence had caused.

“I expected…maybe I hoped that I wasn’t the only one still pining like an idiot.”

In truth Spencer had been pining, just not for Luke. Spencer had been pining for his old life, perhaps to a degree that included his ex boyfriend. He ached to go back to the time before prison, before he made the decision to go to Mexico. He yearned to do it over, to at the very least tell someone of his plans and not try and go it alone.

But if he hadn’t gone to Mexico, hadn’t gotten arrested and suffered at the hands of his inmates driving him to leave his former life behind he wouldn’t have ended up in Bandera. He wouldn’t have had that run in with Rusty which left him injured at the side of the road.

He would never have met you.

Was he really so in love with you that he would go through all that trauma again in another life if it meant it led to you? That didn’t seem like a rabbit hole that needed traversing and so he cast it from his mind.

He finished showering and dressed in clean jeans, a grey t-shirt and threw a black flannel shirt over the top while you slept. He ate a bowl of cereal and drank a mug of tea, took his new meds and left you breakfast on the counter before heading out to the stable.

He took the horses one by one up the field, leaving Rusty for last. He practically had to wrestle her bridle on her as she was still belligerent towards him. She huffed and stomped her hooves aggressively but Spencer was never one to be beaten.

Eventually he managed to get the thing over her head and lead her out to join the others. Once free to roam she was quick to Willow’s side. Since the trip to Medina Lake the two mares had been inseparable. Spencer had no idea what had transpired to make the two horses become friends but he wished Rusty would warm up to him the way she had his steed.

It occurred to him then that he would probably have to give this place up. With you on the run and on Luke’s radar there was no way the two of you could stay here. Perhaps you could take Willow and Rusty, but Franklin and Wilbur and his cattle wouldn’t be able to follow. Maybe he’d ask around town if anyone was looking to acquire more land and animals to go with it.

The thought made him a little wistful. He liked his ranch, he liked this life. It had been alien to him at first but in time it had become so beautifully ordinary. Perhaps the two of you could find another ranch somewhere, start over together somewhere Luke or Phil would never find you.

He swallowed that thought down, not wanting to ruin what could be one of his last days here by getting sentimental. He leaned against the fence and watched the horses as they grazed and interacted with one another.

He would surely miss this little slice of paradise.

***

Luke emerged from Grant’s ranch house little over an hour later, his hangover a long distant memory. As he stepped out onto the large porch, he actually had a smile on his face.

“Can’t lie to ya, I’m plumb grateful you decided to come back up here.” Grant smiled at him in the doorway, wearing nothing but a pair of sinfully tight fitting boxers.

Luke felt himself blushing, something he rarely ever did as he took a last look at the strong body leaning against the door jamb.

Grant’s muscles had muscles, every inch of him sculpted to perfection. He wasn’t Luke's usual type, far from it, but there was something so devilishly alluring about the slightly imposing cowboy.

And it didn’t hurt that it was some of the best sex he’d ever had in his life.

“Me too.” Luke confessed, his cheeks burning red.

“Mighty shame you gotta mosey on back up to the city.” Grant smiled a little sadly at him.

“Yeah, it is.” Luke agreed. “I actually came here to ask for your number, maybe? If there’s any chance you’d wanna stay in touch? I know we live really far apart but, uh, I think that I might…quite like you.”

His cheeks were even brighter after his admittance and Grant’s smile grew. He reached out and cupped Luke’s jaw in his hand, drawing him closer so he could kiss him.

“You are one tall drink of ice tea, Luke Alvez.” Grant mumbled against his lips. “And I quite like you too. Gimme ya phone.”

Luke nodded dumbly and pulled his phone out of his pocket and handed it to Grant. Grant was quick to input his number into the device and hand it back to him.

“T-thanks.” Luke stuttered.

“You know I always had a hankering for more than this.” Grant sighed wistfully, casting an open palm across his land. “I was born and raised on this ranch. After my folks died they left this place to me. Never chose this life, it chose me. Always thought I’d get out of the south one day, move to some big city, ya know? New York, LA…maybe even DC. Unless that idea scares ya.”

“Why would it…why would it scare me?” Luke swallowed thickly at the implication.

“You seem like the jumpy sort.” Grant winked at him.

Luke sucked in a really deep breath before slowly exhaling. He briefly checked his watch, he was running out time to make his flight and he still had one more stop to make. But he couldn’t pull himself away.

“I was still processing an old break up. It ended suddenly and I never got any closure. But I think I have now, I think I’m ready to move on.” Luke spoke the words out loud and he truly meant them.

“Well that just makes me wanna slap my mama.” Grant smiled sweetly at him despite Luke’s obvious confusion at his sentiment. “I guess it might be high time for me to reconsider city life. New York, LA…”

“Or DC.” Luke finished him for him.

“Or DC.” Grant nodded, drawing him in for another kiss.

Luke allowed himself another few moments to be swallowed up by this delicious cowboy before he regretfully had to peel himself away before he missed his flight back home. Although in all honesty, he didn’t think that would have been the worst thing in the world.

***

You were finishing your tea at the kitchen counter when you heard footsteps on the gravel outside. You smiled to yourself, turning eagerly in your chair, ready to embrace Spencer upon his arrival.

But it wasn’t Spencer you saw heading towards the lodge.

You quickly slipped off the stool to the floor, scrabbling over to the corner you’d inhabited last night while Spencer and Luke had it out. You pulled your knees to your chest, trembling slightly as Luke Alvez’s heavy footsteps climbed the stairs.

A moment later there was a knock on the door. You held your breath.

Had you gotten Spencer’s affections all wrong? Was he simply placating you, distracting you so he could call Luke back here? It was imminent. Any minute now he would break down that door and slap his cuffs on your wrists before hauling your ass back to prison.

How could you have been so naive?

“Spencer?” Luke’s voice carried through the door as he knocked again. “You here, man?”

You hugged your legs, breathing as shallowly as possible in the hopes he might not realise you were there. If he went looking for Spencer you could quickly make a getaway.

“Look I don’t know if you’re ignoring me or you just don’t wanna talk to me but, uh…” he cleared his throat. “We didn’t forget your birthday. Penelope had a load of gifts FedEx’d out here and she made me promise you’d get them. You know she’d never forgive me if I came home with them. Guess I’ll just leave them here. Happy birthday for Friday.”

You heard a shuffling and soon after the footsteps took to the stairs again. You dared to get to your feet, crouching down below the window and peaking outside.

The back of Luke’s head retreated back towards a dark SUV. You watched as he slipped inside of it and then the engine started. It wasn’t long before he was pulling away.

You frowned to yourself, standing up to your full height. So Spencer hadn’t called him, hadn’t turned you in?

You exhaled a shaky breath and crept to the door. It could have been a trap but you didn’t think it was. Upon opening the door you saw a pile of gifts wrapped with sparkly bows and bright wrapping paper. On top was a stack of cards.

Still frowning, you gathered them all up and carried them to the counter. Varying handwriting adorned the multi coloured envelopes, addressed to the likes of Reid, Boy Wonder, Doc and Spence.

You shook your head. So there was one thing Spencer had kept from you, his birthday.

You made the decision to hide the gifts away, scurrying up to your lodge and stuffing them away in a cupboard.

You wanted to do something nice for Spencer, you owed him after everything he’d done for you. Today was Wednesday, Friday was two days away, you were sure you could come up with something before then. You would just have to work fast to put the wheels into motion.

***

“Remind me again why I can’t come with you?” Spencer’s brows pinched together as he looked up at you with a pout from the couch.

“Is it really such a big deal? I just want to go on my own.” You rolled your eyes. He was so persistent.

You needed to go into town and buy some supplies for the small birthday celebration you were planning for him. Yesterday had been busy with cleaning out the stables and barn and you hadn’t had a second alone to contemplate his birthday. It was now Thursday and you just needed to get away from him for an hour or so, but he was being petulant.

“I don’t like the idea of you going into town on your own.” He grumbled.

“Why, I’ve done it before? And we both know I can handle myself.” You scoffed.

“I…those men at the bar, the way they looked at you…I didn’t like it.” His cheeks flushed red.

You couldn’t help but smile and you sidled closer to him, lowering yourself to sit on his thigh, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Spence, are you jealous?” You smirked at him.

“Yes,” he nodded frantically. “With good reason too, or have you forgotten about making out with Grant?”

“That was different.” You ran your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck. “You were adamant we were just friends. I’m fairly certain we’re more than that now. I would never cheat on you Spencer, you understand that right?”

“Hmm,” he hummed at the feeling of your fingers in his hair. “Might need a little convincing.”

You chuckled at his whiny words, his lips pouting, desperate to feel yours on his. You relented and offered him a chaste kiss before pulling back.

“That’s your lot.” You went to stand but suddenly Spencer’s hand was round your waist, holding you down.

“No, no. Not enough. Not convinced.” He clung to you.

“Is someone a needy boy today?” You laughed, giving him another soft kiss.

“Hmm,” he nodded. “So needy.”

You allowed him another kiss and this time his hand flew to the back of your head to keep you close. His tongue was parting your lips within a matter of seconds. You couldn’t pull yourself away even if you wanted to, the ferocity of the kiss rendering you instantly dumb.

He pulled you properly into his lap so you were straddling his thighs, before his good hand disappeared under your shirt and his fingers brushed across the skin of your back.

“Spencer,” you mumbled into his lips. “I need to go out.”

“You don’t need to go anywhere. What you need to do is get rid of some of these clothes.”

“Spencer,” your tone was warning.

“Whatever you so desperately need to go out for can wait, surely?” His fingers toyed with your bra clasp beneath your shirt.

“If you hadn’t been so tired last night and fallen asleep before I’d even brushed my teeth, you could have gotten some then.” You pulled back from his lips and poked the tip of his nose with your index finger.

“Are you really going to turn me down? When I could freak out at any second, you have to take these good moments when they come, Y/N.” He allowed himself to joke, joking helped him cope.

Your eyes flit down towards his crotch and the bulge in his slacks. The sight was enough for you to shudder and he knew he had you.

You cupped his jaw in your hand, rubbing your fingers into his ever growing stubble. He looked at you through large doe eyes.

“You are so needy today.” You clucked. “What has gotten into you?”

“I have no idea.” Spencer shook his head. “But can we just go with it?”

“What exactly do you want, Doctor Reid?” You cocked an eyebrow at him and he hissed.

“Fuck, it’s so hot when you say that.” He pulled you back to kiss you again. “T-touch me? P-please?”

You moaned into his mouth and grinded against his lap. Your hands wandered down the fabric of his t-shirt until you came to the hem.

He sat forward so you could lift it over his head, tossing it aside before you helped him remove your own. His fingers were soon back on your bra clasp and he popped it open expertly, practically ripping the garment from your body.

You sat back, looking at him with a smile. His eyes were unashamedly on your chest.

“Don’t just stare, Doctor.” You scoffed, reaching into his lap and palming him through his slacks.

He bucked into your hand with a growl at the same time as he bowed his head, hurriedly taking your nipple into his mouth.

You closed your eyes as his tongue lapped over your hardened nipple. You stroked him through his pants whilst working the button.

Once you had them open you reached straight into his boxers and tugged his shaft free of its confines. He hissed again, teeth grazing against your nipple.

He sat back as you started to stroke him, returning the favour and starting to unbutton your own pants. Much like you he didn’t bother removing them and instead dove his hand straight inside your panties.

You fisted his shaft at the sensation of his finger brushing over your clit. You kept your eyes on each other firmly.

“God I love you,” he panted, rolling his hips into your hand.

“I love you too, Doctor.” You moaned the last word as he pressed against your swollen bud. “And fuck I love those fingers.”

“I feel the same about your hand.” He nodded.

A second finger joined his first, using them both in tandem to rub circles on your clit. You puffed out a heavy breath, causing your breasts to bounce and Spencer’s gaze faltered to them.

“Good god I missed boobs. You have no idea. I am such a boob man.” He was leaning closer again and taking your nipple in his mouth once more.

You moaned and started to increase your speed on his cock, his own fingers working their magic between your legs.

You rocked back and forth on his hand whilst he similarly bucked into your own. He was frantically sucking your nipple, intent on bringing you as much pleasure as physically possible.

It really didn’t take either of you long to orgasm. Somehow the two of you knew each other's bodies so well already that it was such a simple thing for you both to bring the other to your peaks.

Spencer succumbed first, still suckling on your nipple when he came with a loud groan and bucked into your hand. You felt his come spilling over your hand and probably over his pants too.

The feeling of his hot seed on your skin and the way he writhed beneath you as you continued leisurely stroking him tipped you over the edge soon after and you shuddered on top of him while your head fell to your chest.

You collapsed on him, both of you panting loudly and fitfully. He wrapped his arm around you and kissed the top of your head.

“See?” He panted. “Wasn’t that so much better than whatever you were going to do?”

“I’m still going out.” You mumbled into the skin of his sweat slicked chest. “Just as soon as I can get my legs to cooperate.”

It was another five minutes before you were able to move and while you redressed and cleaned yourself up, Spencer went back to pouting at you in his disdain for you leaving him alone.

“You were alone for a long time before I came along, you’ll be fine for an hour. You’re a big tough cowboy, remember.” You chuckled, placing a kiss on his lips before heading to the door.

“I still don’t understand why I can’t come with you.” He grumbled.

“Because I don’t need a chaperone.” You rolled your eyes. “Read a book or something, time will fly by.”

He continued to sulk as you headed for the door and swung it open, before closing it behind yourself. Seconds after you left, Spencer started to spiral. The guilt came in waves, thick and fast. His come was still sticky on his stomach, in his pants. He felt sick out of nowhere.

The thing he felt the most ashamed about was the fact he hadn’t felt ashamed until during the act. He felt guilty for not feeling guilty.

He allowed himself to forget what had happened to him. How could he ever forget? And just like that he was crumbling, tumbling down into an ether he knew all too well.

He embraced it, didn’t try to tether himself, didn’t bother to stop the inevitable. He deserved this, he deserved to suffer for letting himself feel an ounce of happiness.

He wasn’t going to fight it, so instead he let it happen. The anger swelling in his chest, the blurring of his vision. He was ready for it. A part of him welcomed it.

So he fell into the fringes of reality, no longer in control of his own fucked up mind. Divorce the body from the brain. Detach from a world that had only ever wanted him to suffer.

Spencer Reid faded away, or at the very least his mind did. And soon all that was left was a shell of himself, a husk of a man who had seen far too much pain.

He was but an empty vessel. Vacant. Void. Hollow. He surrendered to the momentary bliss he was enveloped into by the promise of detaching from this plane of existence.

This was why he didn’t want you to leave. He was safe when you were here. When you’re gone anything could happen.

And so he simply relented to it. He was so far past the point of being broken that he may as well lean into the fray.

Hello darkness, my old friend.

@kalulakunundrum @voledart @katrina0-0 @bakugouswh0r3 @prettyboyandthefangirl @zooni92802 @marvellover1819 @babyspiderling

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