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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years

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💕 reader turns into a baby and obsessed with Bucky. Awww 🥺

Infant Issues

bucky barnes x reader / masterlist

warnings; fluff, morgan definitely being tony’s kid, biting, swearing, spoilers for IW and Endgame, mention of the blip, childish behaviour from adults, terrible humour (I really am sorry), spoiler for WV, mention of age gap, kinda a crossover, an absolute mess 😂

“Morgan?” Bucky frowned, as the girl tried to speed past him. It was not wise for anyone to allow the mischievous child run around the compound alone, she always got up to nothing but trouble, and there was such a glazing in her brown eyes.

She didn’t spare him a glance, instead, she bolted, causing the super soldier to sigh. He would have went after her if there weren’t already footsteps recurring from the path that she had just came from; it was his father. It so happened that there was a bundle of joy in his arms, crying like the sudden crack of dawn.

“What were you going to do, wait another five years to tell everyone about this one, Stark?” Bucky asked with a chuckle, though the cries from the infant muted at the sound of his voice. The child wiggled in Tony’s grasp, trying her utmost to reach out for the vibranium armed hero.

“She’s not my daughter, if she was, I think me and you would be having conversations.” Tony’s words spurred a frown to combust out onto Barnes’ face, and the billionaire sighed, shifting the baby so that the baby was in Bucky’s arms.

The child cooed up at him, her eyes were a baby blue, sure to avert possibly into a different colour once she grew elder. “Look, I didn’t ask if I could hold her, she’s cute, but why do you-“

“Morgan did it.” Tony willingly blamed his own daughter. With her various experimentations, she was definitely taking after him. He’d be sure to keep this one quiet from Pepper, otherwise he was almost certain that he’d be banned from bringing Morgan on expeditions to the compound.

“I though y/n was supposed to be watching her.” Stated the enhanced soldier, cocking his head at the information that he recalled. He promptly remembered you abandoning him half way through training the newbie recruits, because Happy was dropping Morgan off, and you had offered watch over her, despite the associate being there.

“She was, and now you’re going to have to watch over her.” Tony pointed specifically to the child in his arms, and that was when realisation hit Bucky. He gulped, breathing through his nose to calm himself, as all the pieces clicked perfectly together.

This was not just a child - it was you. As he gazed down at you, he could finally see the pouted expression that would fixate upon your face when you paid attention to him when you were drunk, there was a glazing over your eyes as you raised your small and innocent hands, scraping down the stubble of his chin, as you curled further into his arms.

“I am going to kill you.” He steadily spoke, huffing as Sam went to walk past, but stopped himself when he saw the bundle of joy that was content in the brooding soldier’s arms.

“What the hell! Did you and y/n have a baby or something without telling anyone?” Oh, how he wished those were the circumstances, and if the pair of you were to ever have a child together, then he would be impartial to the idea of doing so.

"This is not my child, it's y/n, thanks to Stark over there." He bounced you in his arms, he even felt a small dribble of spit seep through his shirt, but he didn't mind, not as his icy glare was intently prized upon the philanthropist.

"Hey, it was my daughter's fault, not mine!" Tony excused himself from the blame, holding his palm against his chest, as he received as such. Sam ogled at him for a second, before returning his attention back into Bucky, and little you.

He came forwards, reaching his hand towards you, keening as you went to grasp his. As you did so, a smile broke out upon the man’s face, until it contorted into a sharp frown, the noise of a yelp escaping from his lips. “That little bitch bit me.”

“Language.” Steve rounded the corner, his golden brows raising when he saw the infant contently resting in his best friend’s arms. “Did you and y/n have a baby without telling us?”

“That’s what I said!” Sam beckoned to the blonde, as he averted a strong gaze to you and your normal sized partner. "Until she bit me, it reminds me of that time that I tried to steal her fries."

"I don't see why your complaining." Bucky rolled his eyes, bracing you up straighter so that your forehead was pressed lightly against his shoulder. "I'm the one whose partner is an actual child."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Sam rolled his eyes in reference to how you were beforehand, before Steve cut in, directing his leading tone towards the men that were stood idly by.

"What actually happened?" Tony found his enquiry to be an opportunity to avert the fault from himself; how lucky indeed was it that Steve asked such a thing.

"Technically it's your fault capsicle. Morgan found your prototype of your unsuccessful time machine. As you can see, she turned into a baby, much like Lang. And if you want to push the blame off of yourself, blame these two for their asses disappearing."

"Hey, if I wanted to disappear, I wouldn't have made such a dramatic exit. I'd have just left for my sister's." Crossing his arms, Sam shook his head at the man that was not wearing his iron suit. He was unable to take any responsibility, unless it was for his genius brain wave of creating the true transportation for the time heist.

"Well I'm going to keep that noted for any future repercussions." Oh, how Wilson regretting mentioning that now.

"You left it out, within your daughter's reach." Bucky quirked his brow, as he prepared to head towards the storage of the private laboratory that was shared between the two science bros.

"Technically, that was the big green guy." Bucky vouched not to listen to Stark, instead, he continued to walk, leaving the three other men in his rear view, though for the most part, he could still hear them bickering.

"Maybe we should turn you into a baby, I doubt much would change."

"Maybe we should turn you into a baby, I doubt much would change." Tony mimicked Steve, thus only proving his point. He was certainly a man that enjoyed pressing people's buttons, it was a shining attribute of the once playboy, and god, did it annoy the hell out of Barnes.

As he entered the laboratory, he found the lab to be in a state of havoc. "Hey, it wasn't me this time." Scott laughed, as he used an extinguisher against the frayed machine, that was blubbering sparks from its ruined exterior.

"Smash!" A small green child, wearing glasses that were far too big for him, ran across the room, followed shortly by a child with long blonde hair wrapped up in a red cape, as though it were some kind of makeshift diaper.

"Explain." Bucky bluntly stated, clenching his jaw, as he cooed lightly at your cries that pierced the air. He bounced you in his arms, not quite certain of what he was supposed to do.

In his time, there wasn't exactly an education system to teach the men going to war how to parent, or even care for a child. A part of him panicked; it was you, he hated seeing you cry in general, but now he couldn't attempt to find out the cause for your falling tears.

"Aw is that y/n?" The man half dressed in his ant man suit asked, a bright smile on his face, as he reached out to hold you. To say Bucky was hesitant to pass you to him was an understatement. "I have a daughter, I've looked after a baby before."

"From jail?" The white wolf asked, as he heard a crash exhibit from the connecting room, obviously being the fault of the two most destructive avengers, or at least, their little versions. Being aged down was definitely certification for trouble, everyone knew that.

"Okay I wasn't in there for that long." Scott reassured him, he picked up a bottle of milk from the table, handing it to the metal armed man, whom had never fed a child before. He found himself, cautiously, keeping a watchful eye, passing you over to the former criminal, intently watching every movement that the man made.

Lange simply fed you. "Always thought you and y/n would have a cute baby, imagine its- oh yeah, well after all that stuff that happened with vision and SWORD, we thought it best to destroy any technology that was recovered from the old base. This part survived, and well, I went into its- okay, you don't want to hear the science, but basically Thor insisted he could break it with his hammer, albeit whilst I was inside of it, and it sent energy around the room that turned them into pubescent children."

"I can see that it did nothing to you. And I thought Morgan did it.”

"I was so relieved, lucky I- wait, was that an insult?" Bucky remained primitively silent, and that answered Scott's question. The hero sighed, as you finished nursing, and your arms reached for Bucky, to whom he passed you to. “And I lied...”

He literally blamed a five year old for the screw up of grown men. Tony was going to thrive off this information, whence he knew that his daughter was in fact not the culprit.

"What do we do now?" He was eager to find a cure for this betrothed science. Those whom were responsible for your decrease in age, well, one was running around the compound, and the other, well, he was even younger than Morgan currently.

"You could wait twenty years, I mean you two already have quite a big age gap, and please don't kill me. I'm not sure that Cap would approve, I am a vital source to the team!"

"I'm not going to kill you tic tac. Or at least not at least until we fix these three."

"Phew." Scott wiped his brow, blowing air from his mouth. "Wait thre- oh yeah, the little guy carrying the hammer that is bigger than himself, and the

"Okay, we need someone smarter." Bucky sighed heavily, as he hugged you in thought. "You tried hitting it again with the hammer?"

"Oh my god, I could be worthy!" Gasped Scott, running off to the next room, only to come back limping, a pained expression on his face. "Little Asguardian bastard hit me!"

Bucky contained his smirk, and instead passed you to Lang, venturing into the other part of the lab, finding that Bruce was asleep, a blob of snot hanging from his nose, he could see the hammer in the middle of the room, almost as though it were waiting for him to attempt grabbing the handle, and Thor was-

The minuscule god jumped from one of the shelves, wrapping his arms around the front of Bucky’s neck, as he put all his weight on the super soldier’s back. In all practicality, Thor was strangling him, and Bucky tapped his arm, trying to convince him to let go.

“I know who Noobmaster69 is.” Thor quirked his head, lessening his hold, as he promptly awaited his now older friend to continue. “It’s, its- his name is Wade Wilson.”

“Wilson!” No, gosh no. Bucky stood completely, making sure to keep Thor in the vicinity, he needed him to be so so that he could reverse the affects on the son of Odin.

“Not Sam. Wade.” He had never met the man before, but god did he seem like a dick. When the pair of you were getting a taxi, the driver Dopinder just could not shut up about his friend, who liked to wear red, and had a kink for unicorns.

Wade certainly sounded like a weird one, but right now, his pass time was getting Thor to pick up that hammer. “Where can I find this Wade?” It practically left his mouth as a hiss, if the imagery and proven death supposed otherwise, he’d possibly think it was Loki instead.

“I will tell you, if you pick up that hammer, and hit it against that old machine. Got it buddy?”

“It’s name is Stormbreaker!” Bellowed the norseman, who tried to slide off his back, but Bucky kept a hold of his legs, refraining him from going anywhere. “Get peter to do it, I don’t want to play that game anymore!”

“Uuh, hi Mr Barnes...” That voice, oh he knew it, and the majority of the time it irritated him, he was Tony's little pet. “And, baby avengers?”

“Don’t ask kid.” Peter nodded, as he went to reach for a spanner. “Can you pick the hammer up, are you worthy?”

“Am I worthy?” He wondered aloud, his eyes fixated on the hammer, as he stepped towards it, holding his hand out, and clasping his palm around the handle, it feeling weightless in his grip, as he picked it up without effort. “Oh my god (it’s Robert Downey Junior)!”

“Great, now take it out there, I’ll deal with these two. And don’t do anything yet.” He was certainly feeling like a sergeant, throwing all the orders to the others, Peter complied, carrying the hammer as though it were an empty duffel.

“Can I try?” Instantly, after Peter passing it to him, Scott had such hope, until the force of gravity hit, and it fell on his foot, causing a light scream to ripple through his throat. “Get it off, get it off!”

Peter did so, as Bucky kept Thor on his shoulders, and grabbed a hold of Bruce’s chubby little ankle, dragging him into the other room. “Shit he’s heavy.” He saw that you were sat in the grand spinny chair, making Bucky relived that you weren’t in Lang’s arms as he attempted to have a moment of worthiness.

“What’d you do, go all Winter soldier on his ass and knock him out?!” Half screamed the prodigy of Hank Pym.

“Of course not, I think Thor did it.”

“Oh yeah, blame the kid because I did the same.”

“Put your suit from Stark on kid, unless you want to become a fetus.” Bucky ignored Scott for the moment,

“I got Hope to send her outfit, it will stretch to accommodate you, but I also think it would hug your shape nicely.”

“That was fast.” Muttered Peter, and Bucky shook his head, eyeing the outfit with weird eyes.

“I’m crazy, but not crazy enough to wear that.” Sighing, he grasped it in his hands, walking to the other room to squeeze into it. He noticed you watching, and thus he turned the chair around so that you couldn’t see anything. Little did he realise until he came out, that you had spun it around again, and was giggling. “Don’t laugh at me, or you won’t be allowed to see it when you’re returned to normal.”

A pout settled on your small lips, and it appeared as though you were getting ready to cry again, but before you could do so, a distraction intervened. An uninvited, and confusing one.

“Stop. Can I just say, that is some cruel declaration for the both of you, you’re my fave ship, after me and Hugh Jackman of course, but he doesn’t even know that this version of me exists.” A newfound imposter called out, his arms raised in the air. Leather gloves crinkled as he twitched his fingers, his white eyes freaking Scott the fuck out. “May I join you on this journey? I read about you guys in comics. And can I just say, I want to see these hunks and that hottie all grown up.”

“You want to see me go Winter Soldier on someone Lang?” Bucky gritted his teeth, prepared to murder this man for ever posing such words about you into the open air. Him speaking obviously drew some attention to him though, but it was not his rage that was mentioned, instead, it was his attire- or well, Hope’s.

“Nice suit Buck Buck. Can you do a twirl for me, I wanna see if it competes with America’s ass. Damn, does that man have some buns on him.”

“I know right!” Scott eagerly agreed, earning a smack in the nuts, to which had made him close to crumbling.“You had to use the metal hand, didn’t you.” Whimpered the Ant to the false Wasp, clamping his hands over his goods as he half hunched over. “I thought you often forgot to use it coz your right handed.”

“You’re on my left.” Gross, he sounded like Sam.

“Who the hell are you?” Thor spoke, and it felt familiar on his tongue. It was as though he had asked an enemy the same thing before...

“I, am Noobmaster69.”

“Hi, I’m Peter. Oh, we’re using our made up names, I thought Sam said it was that guy from that tech place.” Peter scratched his head through the mask, providing a small verbal distraction, as Thor willingly set himself free, launching at the intruder, whilst snatching the hammer from a suited up Peter.

“Aaasrrrghh.” He screamed like a true deity of the vikings.

“Thor, no!” Lang screamed, knowing that he’d have to come up with another excuse. The cameras had been fused whence Thor had first struck the hammer in the room, and it abused the guy in the red suit as he went for his legs, attacking the friend of Dopinder.

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futurstic-divineawakened · 2 years

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Felix and Mirabel headcanons 2

* You really think imma just stop on just one post of MY personal favorite duo

* Oh there is too much for me to do with them

* Those dates i said last time? Imaging 7 year old Mirabel dress so prettily

* Felix dressed up a bit as well and flowers in hand. Pepa teases him by saying he doesn’t get her flowers

* They are orange begonia flowers small ones tie in a blue bow for Mirabel

* Mirabel comes down and I can guarantee Pepa and Felix both just melted

* Pepa tried to steal her, Julieta stops her

* Mirabel in a orange dress that she borrows from Dolores

* She goes straight to Felix skipping to him

* Abuela watches and I know for a fact that she was squealing inside (she went into her room later smiling until her cheeks hurt)

* Felix gets down on one knee and hand her flowers

* “For the most prettiest baby in my eyes”

* Mirabel response “I’m happy to go on a date with the most handsomest tio”

* Julieta was trying hard not to grab Mirabel away and cuddle her

* Pepa was trying not to cry and keep touching her hair to calm down her joy

* Agustin told Felix “I expect her to be back by 9” as they left filling the house with laughter

* Mirabel’s tiny hand holding Felix’s as they walk to town

* I think Felix is the type to rub knuckles of the person he holds hands with as a type of comfort

* Mirabel loves when he does that she feels calm and in peace

* Oh this date was so cute that Felix never wanted it to end

* He loved his relationship with Camilo, but as shown in the movie Camilo loves teasing Felix

* I think Felix would have loved having another little girl in the family. Mirabel just took that spot and feel it with joy

* When Felix was sick and Mirabel was in Casita she brought him begonias and made a get well card for him

* Only Pepa knows that he has a drawer where he keeps stuff all the kids gave him

* Mirabel’s first yellow thread was giving to her by Felix

* The first thing she embroidered was a orange scarf with Felix’s name on it

* He still wears it when it gets cold

* When the scarf gets too old and tatter, Felix’s mood went down a lot

* It was so bad Pepa tried to cheer him up

* Mirabel heard what happen and in secret she knitted a new scarf

* The scarf was knitted so carefully that it was almost like the seamstress did it herself.

* It was made with love, a mix by of orange and yellow blended so well you can never tell where the yellow begins or the orange ends.

* Felix’s name written in red and embroider begonia flowers on it

* She showed her Tia the new scarf and I can say that Pepa was shocked

* She saw how perfect Mirabel made the scarf for her Felix and knew that Mirabel wanted to make him feel better

* Mirabel went into the room and hid the scarf behind her back

* She told Felix to close his eyes and put his hands out.

* Felix couldn’t help but be curious, listening to Mirabel

* When he open his eyes and saw the new scarf

* Gosh Felix hasn’t cried so quickly since Dolores’ quinceañera

* He quickly put the scarf down carefully then grabbed Mirabel to pull her into a hug

* He couldn’t even say thank you to her because of the joy and the sobs he tried to keep in. They just hold each other and cuddle

* They probably feel asleep in his and Pepa’s room.

* Pepa came in to check on them, she smile and slowly went to bed to take a nap on Mirabel’s other side.

* Before she did, she started to touch her cloudy curls (call back to Pepa’s headcanons) soft to touch

* They fell asleep like that, Mirabel in between her tio and tia

* Felix woke up an hour laterfrom what would be the best nap he had in a while. He couldn’t help but be happy why

* His vida and sobrina together with him cuddling

* It was still early morning so he went back to sleep.

* Felix smiled the rest of the day

* Nothing could touch him, not even Camilo’s pranks fazed him.

* Later much later when the moon is high in the sky and only a candle as his source of light he takes his new scarf out

* He touch’s it gently afraid to destroy a single stitch loving looking at his family colors to tracing the red that made up his name

* He trace the flowers over and over again remembering when he first gave Mirabel those flowers long ago

* He went to sleep smiling

* Smelling begonia in his dreams

* When he woke up, he went down stairs with his new scarf around his neck.

* Chest out proudly like he was a model and it was his runway.

* He wears it all day

* Taking Mirabel by her hand and randomly dancing with her.

* He thanks her all day to the point Mirabel’s face was red

* Mi mariposa, mi bebé, mija, mi estrella, her favorite? Mi pequeña begonia

* Mirabel’s giggles fill up Casita

If you haven’t realized how much I love these two-

#mirabel madrigal #felix madrigal #encanto headcanons #agustin madrigal #julieta madrigal #dolores madrigal #pepa madrigal #abuela alma madrigal #camilo madrigal #encanto #FelixandmirabelarethetruepairingwenevergotbutNEEDED

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cinebration · 3 years

Text

None Like You (Geralt x Reader) [Request]

hi! can you do a geralt one shot with fem reader where she's a princess and they start falling for each other? tysm! — Request by anon

Warnings: blood

Gif Source: frodo-sam

Your mother had raised you to believe you were someone of importance, but life on the farm had said otherwise. You toiled just like everyone else, bleeding and sweating. You were soiled, not spoiled. Yet your mother insisted you were a princess and told you outrageous bedtime stories to lull you to sleep in your youth.

You should have paid better attention.

When King Henselt’s only son died, leaving only a marriage and no heirs, you woke one morning to the pounding of a mailed fist on the door. Your mother answered and then hurried into your room, fluttering about like a mad woman.

“It’s time,” she cried, shoving you into your best dress and raking her fingers through your hair.

“For what?”

“To be someone.”

Then she bundled you out the door into the arms of a military escort carrying the Kaedwan sigil on their shields and tunics: a red-horned unicorn on a yellow field.

It took you the whole day to finally coax information out of your escort regarding the whole ordeal. When they told you what you were, you nearly fell out of your saddle in disbelief.

The king must be desperate, you thought as you tried to fall asleep beside the campfire.

Then the night turned bloody.

Something crunched underfoot to your right. You huddled deeper in the hollowed tree, clutching the steel in your hands. The edges had sliced open your palms, but you didn’t care. It afforded you some protection, even if the creature had snapped the blade it came from like a twig.

Tensing, you waited for the sound to draw nearer, coiling to spring. It was just like killing chickens, you told yourself. One neat slice to the throat.

You leapt out of the hollow, slashing up and across.

The witcher caught your wrist easily, flinging the steel out of your hand. Stifling a cry, you cradled the injured hand to your chest, backed away from him. His eerie yellow eyes tracked you as you pressed yourself against the tree trunk, searching for an escape.

“What happened?” His voice rasped like feet dragged over gravel.

“Death,” you whispered, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the massacre. “Some…thing.”

“It’s dead now.”

You fixed him with a wary glance. “Truly?”

He grunted.

You nearly sank to your knees in relief. Pressing a hand to your mouth, you felt the cuts in your hand spasm. Fresh blood wept from the slashes, trickling down your arms. The witcher swept his gaze over you, eyeing the wounds. You fumbled with the hem of your dress, trying to rip the dirty fabric into strips.

“Did you fight it?” The surprise in the witcher’s voice drew your ear.

You wheezed. “I slashed it, yes, but fight? No.”

Rummaging around in the leaves on the forest floor, the witcher retrieved the broken steel, examined it. He swore.

Unease coiled within you. “What is it?”

“Come here.”

You hesitated. The witcher rolled his eyes and strode over to you, grabbing you by the wrist. His touch was firm but not tight, much to your surprise. You followed after him, feeling a little dizzy as he led you over to the road. A horse stood idly there, kind eyes inquisitive. It didn’t shy away as you drew near despite the smell of blood.

“Good horse,” you murmured, appraising it.

The witcher fumbled through a saddlebag, searching for something. At last he pulled out a vial and took your hands, tearing off the strips to get to your wounds. He poured the grey contents of the vial out before you could protest.

You nearly screamed, the pain in your hands was so excruciating. Lighting shot up your arms as the vial’s contents fizzed on your palms and in your wounds.

“To prevent the venom from killing you,” the witcher explained.

“If the pain doesn’t kill me first,” you hissed through gritted teeth.

A smirk tugged on the witcher’s lips, followed quickly by a frown. “What were you doing traveling with those soldiers?”

You hesitated again. What had you heard about witchers? That they fought for coin and hunted monsters. You had no coin, but neither did you know where you were or how to get home.

“King Henselt sent them,” you confided slowly. “They believe I am his bastard daughter.”

“A princess.”

You elected to ignore the mild groan in the man’s voice. “Can you take me home? The farm, not Aed Carraigh.”

His yellow eyes fixed on you again, white eyebrows beetling together. “You don’t want to go to the castle?”

“Is it safe? As safe as home?”

His lips pressed into a thin line.

“Then take me home,” you insisted. “I’m no princess.”

The witcher smelled. You couldn’t ignore it, not with your face pressed into his back. He wasn’t made for traveling with someone sitting behind him. You could feel it in the tension of his shoulders and back, as though he couldn’t relax beneath the touch of your arms. You did your best to relax your own tense grasp.

You had run nigh over a mile before collapsing in the hollowed tree trunk. The horse covered the distance easily, passing by the smoldering, bloody encampment you had settled down in the night before. You watched it pass, glimpsing the heaps of bodies scattered about.

It took several hours to draw near home. Joy fluttered in your chest as you approached.

You crested the ridge overlooking home and went still, horror rolling through you. The farm house was ash and rubble, still smoking. The animals had been let from their pens, taken for livestock by whatever had rolled through the farm.

“Bandits,” the witcher noted.

Fighting nausea, you wandered down to the burnt house, searching in the ruins. The ash burned your hands and legs, but you sifted through it, yanking aside a crumbling beam.

Beneath lay your mother. What was left of her.

You retched off to the side, stumbling through the ash. You stood bent at the waist for an eternity before you felt the witcher watching you. Turning to face him, you wiped the sick from your chin. “I can’t stay here.”

He frowned.

Your mother had raised a practical woman, fantastic fantasies about your lineage aside. It was all you could think to do as you stood in the ashes of your dead life. One foot in front of the other.

“I have no money,” you confessed, “but if King Henselt sent for me, he can pay you to ensure my arrival.”

The witcher considered it. At last he growled and nodded.

It would take four days to reach Aed Carraigh. The horse—named Roach, you learned—could only manage that distance in a shorter time if not burdened with two riders.

You sat close to the campfire, warming yourself in the flames, shaking not from cold but from fear as the night closed in around you. The night held terrors untold, but until the night before, you had never seen them in the flesh. Knowing they lingered out in the dark set your teeth on edge.

“I’m sorry to burden you,” you told the witcher, the silence too much to bear. You watched the horse warily for signs of attack, knowing the animal was likely to hear or sense it before you.

“Why don’t you want to be a princess?”

Taken aback by the unexpected question, you shrugged. “Why would I want to be one?”

“Riches. A comfortable life.”

“I had a comfortable life with riches untold. They just weren’t gold.”

“Gold is necessary.”

“Gold means nothing if your life is miserable.”

The words hung heavy in the air. The witcher averted his gaze, surprising you. Frowning, you rubbed at your arms, trying to make the hair on your arms stand down. His averted face gave you the opportunity to study his features. They were rough and worn, his brow creased from excessive glowering. He was all hard edges, a larger man than even the largest farmer you had seen. He appeared both comfortable and uncomfortable in his own skin, or perhaps your presence was upsetting him.

“Am I keeping you from work?”

“Are you always so concerned for witchers?”

You shook your head. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

“Yet there you sit.”

You bit your tongue, surprised by the sting of his barb. Something flickered across his stern features as you ducked your head. “Then tell me where to go and I will get there myself.”

“The road is dangerous.”

“Being a woman is dangerous.”

He almost smiled in surprise. You could see it dancing on his lips.

“So tell me where to go,” you insisted. “Then I can leave your remarkable hair.”

His eyebrows twitched. The silence stretched between you both for a minute, the fire crackling in the quiet. At last, he said, “I will take you.”

You almost gave away your relief with a sharp exhale.

Though the witcher was a man of few words, you found you were able to read more from his face and the set of his shoulders than from anything he said. His silences were full of information, though you couldn’t be sure of what exactly. You merely knew that he radiated safety as much as he did danger.

“Do you know many princesses?” you asked him.

He grunted.

“Is that a yes or a no?”

“I know one or two,” he said. “But none like you.”

You frowned, glancing down at your soiled dress. “Yes, I suppose I’m nothing like one. The people will be overjoyed with a farmer’s daughter.” You snorted.

“I think they could use one.”

Frowning, you glanced up at him. He didn’t quite smile, but the glower on his face had shifted into something softer.

“Well, when I am princess,” you said, “I will remember at least one person believes me suited for the job. That’s all that matters.”

A faint smile touched the witcher’s lips. You matched it with a slow smile of your own.

#Geralt x Reader #Geralt #Geralt imagine #Geralt of Rivia x Reader #Geralt of Rivia #Geralt of Rivia imagine #Henry Cavill x Reader #Henry Cavill #Henry Cavill imagine #The Witcher #requests

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jarofstyles · 3 years

Note

ex! harry turning up at y/ns doorstep in the middle of the night telling her that he can’t stop thinking about what they had and even though shes like 🤔😐✋🏻 at first she invites him inside to talk more in depth and he goes „bloody idiot i was..was gon' marry yeh, were gon' be the mum of my babies..wanted everything w' yeh, still do.“ and it basically ends in some passionate intense love making<33

YES YES YES

_______

She bolted.

Harry cursed to himself for pressing down hard at her, knowing that she had been a bit skittish since their breakup. He knew that he would have to handle her with caution but in that moment, his mind slipped back into owning her. She had been his first so long, and even after so many months apart it was his instinct. He wanted her.

He was a stubborn son of a bitch, that was for sure. And while he had at first been a bit hesitant about his want to after her, he knew that it would be foolish of him to not. The connection they had was further proven in those moments he had her backed against that counter, and he knew that no one else would ever be able to make him feel the way she did.

So? Harry swallowed his pride. He decided to say fuck it, and arrived at her place, hands in his pockets as he looked down at his feet. The ride up to her flat and walk down the hallway was so familiar yet felt so raw. He hadn’t been here in so long, a hallway that used to watch their kisses and fumbling with keys and frisky hands up dressed or in pants was how solemn and a bit nerve wracking. He hadn’t ever wanted to let her go and it was his fault for sure. Not being able to delegate his work with his love was his downfall but if anything, the time apart had shown him how incredibly important it was to have someone like Y/N behind him. Her support meant everything.

She meant everything.

His knuckles tapped against the door, stomach turning with nerves. She could very well tell him to fuck off, spit at him, yell. He wasn’t necessarily sure what to expect. The only inkling he had to go off of was knowing she was just as miserable without him, and her body still reacted to touches the way she used to. He had that going for him.

When she opened the door, her heart fell to her stomach. It had been 3 days since the incident, her skin still tingling with the ghost of his touch. She had come home and sobbed. Sobbed and cried and gotten sick because the touch reminded her of everything she lost, all the strides she had thought she made to her over him.. ruined. All by one night. He had too much control over her.

Despite the nerves being raw, she took in his looks. His bags under his eyes, looking a bit pale and the lack of sleep. He had cried. She knew that look anywhere. Stress riddled his body and he almost looked like he was trying to make himself look smaller and less intimidating- which was hard for a 6 foot something tattooed man.

“H-Harry?” She whispered, unsure what to do with this. “What are you doing here?” Her arms crossed against her body protectively, which broke his heart. She shouldn’t have to feel scared of him. He should be making her feel safe and relaxed and open, like he used to.

“We need to talk, Y/N. Actually, I need to say some things and it would be better if I came inside. May I?”

Dumbfounded at the idea of him actually being here, she nodded, letting him in. It hadn’t changed too much. The vanilla suede candle still burned and scented the air. The couch still had a slight dip, the same pet dish for the cat was sat half empty. But their photos were gone,’making his stomach turn.

Fuck. This used to be home. It still felt like it for a bit. But she had erased bits of him that made it shared.

She led him to the living room, sitting on the couch across from him. The middle cushion gave space, making her feel a bit better. Harry was such a complicated thing for her. The source of so, so much joy in her life… but also so much pain. He had broken her heart and left her in pieces and he hadn’t attempted to work things out with her at all. So why now?

“What is it you have to say?” Her tone came off quiet and a bit cold. As if she was annoyed and bored. But it wasn’t the case. Her heart was pounding just as hard as his, clueless as to why he was here. Why he was bothering months too late.

“Don’t…. Lovely…” he swallowed sadly. “I hurt you so badly.” His face fell as he realized this wasn’t her. His girl didnt shy away, she didn’t go cold. She was warm and sweet to him, she was open and receptive and she never looked at him like that. Why he managed to notice so late… he didn’t know.

“Yeah. You did. You hurt me so fucking badly that I thought my heart was breaking. I always thought that maybe you’d come back and tell me what a mistake you’d made. Instead, you up and left. Packed your shit like a complete and utter coward while i was at work.” Her steely expression was laced with hints of pain that he could see through. The words made him flinch. It was true. He was a coward.

“Y/N, I-“

“Shut up.” She snapped, watching his face fall into shock. It really wasn’t the old her. She had been a bit bitter since then. It wasn’t fully his doing, but he was a large contributor. “I had to come home to an empty apartment. No letter. Ni note. No you; and no more of your stuff. The records were gone. You took our fucking records.” Her voice broke. “All your clothing. Not only did my heart feel empty, but the house? And then our fucking cat.” She seethed, standing up. “Our fucking cat meowed for days. Days, Harry. Looking for you. And you never came back. Sat at the god damn door every night at 7, waiting for you to come inside.” Her cold personal broke, the emotion sweeping her face.

His stomach hurt. He didn’t realize it would be this bad. As little as she had even said, he knew he would have to make it up until the end of time. Her hurt was audible and he could even feel it dripping into his own bloodstream.

“Sweetheart…” he stood up, approaching with caution. She didn’t back away, but she didn’t step towards him. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” His voice broke. “I thought… I was so terrible t’ya, and then y’said you never wanted to see me again…. I thought I was doing what y’wanted.” He whispered pathetically. “I shouldn’t have… I should have fought harder. But we were so miserable, Y/N. I was wrecking you.” His excuse sounded poor even to his own ears, heart dropping as her lip wobbled.

“I just wanted you. I wanted you to talk to Me. To be with me. I didn’t want you to leave. You fucking idiot!” Her voice broke as the tears stung her eyes, but she didn’t push him away when he grabbed her and tugged her into his arms. Pulling her in for a hug, squeezing her tightly as he felt her start to sob. His own tears were quietly burning in his eyes. Seeing the result of his idiocy in person hurt.

“I’m so sorry, so fucking sorry. I thought you’d be happier without me… knew I was being an idiot and wasn’t giving you the right attention. But I thought you’d want to find me when y’wanted me again…” his logic was flawed yet again, and he realized how dumb he sounded when he said it out loud. “The plan was always us. Was Gonna marry ya. Y’were gonna be the mumma to my babies, was gonna be with you forever. It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” He whispered sadly, lips speaking against her hair.

“It’s still all I want. Y/N, angel love…. Please. Know I’ve been so stupid but I can’t do another day without you. I know I hurt you so badly… I’ll never forgive myself f’that. But I’ll spend every single day trying to make it up to you. I want you. I’ve missed you so much it hurts. Please… give me a chance to do what I should have done.” He pleaded, pulling her back to hold her face in his rough palms.

The sincerity dripping through his voice, the tears that had escaped his eyes and the trembling of his hands holding her cheeks let her see that he meant it. He meant it and he wanted to try. Maybe she was the idiot for believing him. But with a love she felt for him, so strongly remaining after all this time apart…. She only had one answer.

“Okay.”

#angst #writing #harry styles one shot #jarofstyles #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #angst blurb #blurb #blurbs #Harry angst #Harry styles angst

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years

Text

you know that a boy who likes boys is a dead boy

Summary: Spencer's gay. He joins the BAU and befriends the team, but it is 2003. It's a secret he has to keep. He just didn't expect it to be this hard.

Tags: gay!spencer, coming out, hurt/comfort, insecure!spencer, misunderstandings, angst with a happy ending, dad hotch, protective!hotch, protective!derek, childhood trauma TW: one instance of explicit homophobia, but it is referenced a lot, as is Spencer's internalised homophobia at the start of this fic. A shit ton of heteronormativity but tbh that's just canon lol

Pairing: Spencer Reid/OMC, Spencer Reid & Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid & Aaron Hotchner, The BAU Team & Spencer Reid

Word Count: 6k

Masterlist // Read on AO3

Consider this my contribution to pride month 😌 I've waited so long to post it and I'm so glad I'm finally doing it because it's definitely one of my all time favourites <3 Gideon is here somewhere but just like with all my early season fics he's not really part of the plot I combined my moreid and gen taglists bc it was hard to know the audience for this, but just ignore it if you're not interested!

you know that a boy who likes boys is a dead boy, unless he keeps his mouth shut, which is what you didn’t do, because you are weak and hollow and it doesn’t matter anymore. — richard siken, a primer for the small weird loves

Spencer has only told one person in his whole life.

His mother guessed. For as long as he can remember, she’s used gender neutral pronouns when talking about his future partner, read him all the gay literature she could find, promised him that he’s perfect just the way he is.

The trouble is that Spencer only believes her until the first grade, when Ryan Sampson shoves him over in the playground and calls him gay. His mom had only ever used that term in a sweet, loving way, taking care to associate such words with positivity, as long as his dad wasn’t around to hear. When that word comes out of Ryan Sampson’s mouth, it is not said with sweetness and love; it is said with venom, and Spencer learns quickly that his mom is wrong. He is not perfect just the way he is.

And so, he keeps it a secret. When his mom notices him getting uncomfortable at the mention of future partners, she stops bringing it up, though she refuses to give up the diverse education she provides for him outside of school. His dad tells him that one day he’ll be a strapping young man and marry a nice girl in a church, and Spencer nods along. He ignores the way his stomach turns with anxiety at the thought. Ignores the screaming match his parents have that night. Ignores the fact that it started because Diana chipped in with ‘or boy’.

He’s in high school by the time he’s twelve, and the only part he’s grateful for is the absence of pressure to get a girlfriend. His dad’s out of the picture now, and Spencer tries not to let himself think that maybe if he wasn’t like this he might have stayed. Diana’s so out of it most days that she doesn’t remember what she noticed about him when he was a child, only recalling the last few years of shoving himself so far back in the closet he can hardly see the door anymore.

It feels like he’s lost his last ally.

(He hates that a small part of him feels relieved she doesn’t remember; that he almost feels assured by the fact that the last person to know who he really is has forgotten. There is only this version of Spencer Reid now. No other exists.)

He makes the mistake during his second undergraduate degree. He’s just turned eighteen but he is already a doctor and, fortunately, this alienates him from most of his peers, but someone manages to slide past his defences. Ethan Miller is twenty, in the second year of his (first) undergraduate degree in Chemical Engineering, and he’s nice. Spencer doesn’t have a lot of experience with friendship, but they get on well and Ethan makes him laugh. For the first time, he feels comfortable in the presence of anyone other than his mother.

They slip into an easy friendship: waiting for each other after class — Spencer back in the undergraduate buildings now he has his first PhD under his belt — and going out for ice cream and pizza and Thai food. Ethan goes to parties while Spencer studies, and then they reconvene to watch Doctor Who and play cards.

For almost a year, Spencer keeps his secret carefully locked up, hidden behind the mask he’s perfected after so many years. Even though he’s eighteen, nearly nineteen now, he doesn’t try and explore that side of himself. No, that’s far too risky. He doesn’t try and pretend any other way either, he just stays silent and lets people’s assumptions lie for him, but he can’t help the longing that claws up his throat when he locks eyes with a passing guy on campus. One time, he’d seen two men kiss on a bench in the city, and he’d run back to his dorm and had a panic attack. Why couldn’t he have that?

The feelings don’t stop, and he doesn’t know how to make them. He hates that he isn’t normal, but still longs for the touch of a man, the feeling of being wrapped up in strong arms, of being kissed by dry, chapped lips, and falling asleep to a heartbeat approximately 11% slower than that of a woman’s.

It’s a constant battle inside him, emotions raging, and he struggles to control it, suppress it, tame it.

He pays a sorry price.

Ethan makes him feel comfortable, and that turns out to be a detriment. He relaxes around the other boy: he tells him about growing up as a pre-teen in a high school, about how a child feels living 260 miles away from home, even about his mother’s illness.

And one day, it slips out. They’re on the beach, lying on towels as they look up at the blue sky, talking about what their futures will look like: Ethan will be a successful chemical engineer in Berlin, and Spencer will work for the FBI, profiling serial killers.

“You’ll have to marry a German girl,” he tells Ethan. “It’ll be tough to convince an American girl to move all the way to Germany as soon as you graduate.”

“Yeah, and what about you? You’ll be off fighting crime around the country, not much of a life for a family.”

“Oh, I imagine my husband will be the type to—”

“Husband?”

Spencer freezes. It shocks him as much as it shocks Ethan. He doesn’t even pay much attention to Ethan’s disgusted face and his outraged tirade. He hears slurs and insults, hears him say that he can’t believe Spencer tricked him like this, that he was probably waiting to make a move on him, that he was never to look in Ethan’s direction again, but Spencer is frozen in time.

He’s never allowed him to think much about what his personal life might look like in the future, but he’d said ‘husband’ on instinct, without thinking, and it’s clearly something he actually wants. Ethan’s words sting, but the moment brings about a realisation Spencer is thankful for; it instigates a journey of self-discovery and self-expression, of the joy of living as your true self.

He loses his first and only friend, but he gains something much more valuable. He visits gay bars — nervously sipping a non-alcoholic drink in the corner at first, before soon becoming confident enough to respond to the men who sidle up to him and ask for his name. He lets go and dances the night away, sometimes going home with one of the many dance partners he acquires during the night, sometimes heading back to his own dorm happily alone.

Makeup and dresses and skirts and heels make their way into his wardrobe, and he befriends girls and drag queens and other gay men who encourage him to be exactly the way he is. And the best part is, he never has to come out to any of them. All of them know, and that’s good enough for everyone.

The fun comes to a sad sort of slow, however, when he joins the BAU. Everyone knows law enforcement’s relationship with the LGBT community is less than adequate — Spencer’s seen it with his own eyes: butch lesbians and men in dresses getting roughed up by angry police officers for ‘lewd behaviour’ or ‘drunkenness’ when they’re just being themselves. It’s not safe for him to tell anyone, so he doesn’t.

He still goes out with his friends when he’s in town and wears makeup and dresses and crop tops when he’s at home, but presents as rigidly straight Dr Spencer Reid to his team at the BAU.

The hardest part about it is that he loves his team. He’s known Gideon for years — and he wouldn’t be surprised if he suspects something after coming over to his house unannounced one night, only to have a man other than Spencer open the door — but he settles into a comforting dynamic with Hotch. He can’t help but see him as something of a father figure, and he knows Hotch has a soft spot for him, always looking out for him and taking him under his wing without a moment’s hesitation.

Elle, JJ, and Penelope all take a shine to him, too, teasing him without a hint of malice in their tones, only the kind of playful kindness that reminds him of his mother. He forms a special bond with Penelope and they spend hours watching Doctor Who together and geeking out on all the areas their interests overlap, and the comfort he feels with her matches the comfort he’s found with his new group of queer friends.

(She doesn’t hold a candle to Ethan, he decides one night, after he’d cried at a movie she’d made him watch and she felt so bad she made him hot chocolate and jam toast and cuddled him until he felt better.)

Derek becomes a brother to him. He puts him in a headlock at least once a day — which Spencer has been reliably informed by multiple sources is a very brotherly thing to do — and teases him relentlessly, while simultaneously being fiercely protective of him. Enough so, that Spencer sometimes wonders if he even has Hotch beat in that department.

He loves his team and his team loves him. It should be simple. It is still 2003.

He comes in one morning late for a briefing, his shirt buttoned wrong and his hair is a mess, and he’s fairly sure that his attempt to cover the hickey at the base of his neck with concealer has been ultimately unsuccessful. It’s obvious why he’s late. Gideon is too engrossed in the case file to notice, but Hotch raises an eyebrow, an amused look on his face as everyone else immediately takes to teasing him.

“Who’s the lucky lady, pretty boy?”

Elle raises an eyebrow to match Derek’s shit-eating grin, “Someone definitely got some strange last night.”

“When do we get to meet her, Spence?” JJ asks, smirking as he takes a seat.

He’s bright red — as if he needed to look any more debauched — and Spencer tries to ignore the hurt that seizes his chest at the reminder of his need to stay quiet. This team respects him, and he can’t throw that away just because Spencer gets too comfortable.

God, he wishes Penelope was here.

“None of your business,” he mutters, trying to keep his tone light. He fails.

Naturally, Hotch notices and swiftly moves the briefing on, and Spencer keeps his gaze locked on the case file, not missing the absence of a reprimand from his superior. He’s constantly thankful for the older man, but in this moment, he wishes he could hug him.

(A voice that sounds dangerously close to Ethan’s rises up and taunts him in his ear: he wouldn’t want a dirty homo like you anywhere near him—)

Derek doesn’t let up on the case, continuing to bug him about the special lady in his life. He does concede that it could’ve been a one night stand, which is one front he’s right on, but a couple more concessions are necessary before Derek comes close to the truth of last night.

Eventually, Derek stops, and Spencer notes that the cessation of comments comes suspiciously close to the last time Derek and Hotch were alone together. He doesn’t have it in him to feel angry at Hotch for stepping in when he had it handled; doesn’t have the energy to act as though his pride is wounded, because really, neither of those things are true, and he doesn’t need to add another item to ‘Spencer Reid’s List of Things He Pretends to Be.’

The situation is forgotten, and time moves on.

Things change when he finds his first proper boyfriend. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn’t the giddying rush of emotions it turns out to be, and Spencer spends his days smiling as he daydreams his time away.

His name is Oscar Wilkins, a History professor at Georgetown University, and Spencer falls quickly in love with him. Ever since their mutual friend had introduced them at a gay bar one evening, they’d spent all their free time together. He’s kind and gentle and understanding of Spencer’s hectic and unpredictable job, and he finally has the chance to experience everything he quietly and shamefully longed for as a teenager.

The only downside is the silent breaking of Spencer’s heart that the most important people in his life can’t meet his boyfriend. He longs to show Oscar off, to hold hands in front of his team, lean up to press a tender kiss to Oscar’s lips. He wants to put a framed picture of the two of them at the Washington Monument on his desk to remind him of why he needs to get through the hard days; he doesn’t want to have to sneak out of the hotel room he shares with Derek to whisper hushed, loving goodnights over the phone.

But he’s too scared. Too cowardly.

It’s different being who he is with his gay group of friends littered with wlws and drag queens and other gay and bisexual guys. They understand.

But Derek and Hotch are two extremely masculine, alpha men: Derek’s a ladies’ man and Hotch is married to a woman he met in college with a baby on the way and both have a strong and dominant energy that still sometimes manages to intimidate Spencer even after all these years. And Elle and JJ are lovely — some of his closest friends, really — but sometimes they remind him a little too much of the mean girls he went to high school with.

The hardest person to keep his secret from, though, is Penelope. She’s his best friend and he desperately wants to give her all of him, but he’s so scared. He’s lost a best friend to this secret before, and even though he’s certain she’d be fine with it, what if she accidentally let it slip to Derek? What if Hotch found out and didn’t see him in the same light anymore? What if the girls started teasing him? What if Gideon didn’t want to mentor him anymore?

The fear paralyses him. And it’s a cycle he doesn’t know how to break.

Fear, though, doesn't stop everyone from noticing his daydreaming, his dopey smile when he checks his messages, his urgency to get home where he would’ve stayed until the small hours of the morning before. As excellent as he is at hiding his sexuality, he’s fucking terrible at hiding the fact that he’s in love: it was easy enough to pretend he was straight, but hiding something this all-consuming is an impossible ask.

Derek comes over to perch on the edge of his desk one afternoon, sighing as he sits down. “Pretty boy, this is getting ridiculous,” he says, snatching Spencer’s attention away from his phone. “You’ve been grinning like an idiot for the last twenty minutes as you’ve texted Future Mrs Reid. When are we going to meet her?”

(He hates the new nickname the team has given his mystery significant other, although Oscar had found it hilarious. “It’s funny because when we get married, we’ll hardly be able to tell,” he’d argued through his laughter. “Neither of us will change our name because of our academic profiles, and we’ll both still be ‘Dr’. Our wedding rings will be the only indicator.”

Spencer hadn’t argued back, because he’d been too tongue-tied and flushed pink at Oscar’s use of ‘when’ in regards to their hypothetical nuptials. It was only made bearable by Oscar kissing him gently and tucking him under his arm, not embarrassing him any further as Spencer had sort of anticipated, warmth settling over his chest at the thought of their future together.)

“You won’t,” he replies, perhaps a little too curtly.

Derek starts at that, clearly not expecting it. He definitely should’ve tried to play it off as a joke. “What— should I be offended, pretty boy?”

You wouldn’t call me that if you knew who I really am.

“That’s up to you, Derek,” he says calmly, although he still can’t meet his eyes, “but you won’t meet the ‘Future Mrs Reid, so I think it would probably be best if you left it alone.”

“Damn,” Derek mutters under his breath, clearly pissed off and probably more hurt than Spencer ever intended. “Suit yourself.”

And with that, he gets up and leaves his desk. Spencer’s only solace is the text message he sees on his phone when he picks it back up: I love you so much. You know that, right?

The light-hearted ridicule comes to an abrupt halt after the incident with Derek, and it’s clear that he had been the biggest contributor to the teasing. He’s thankful that the jokes have stopped, but he wishes desperately that it didn’t come with the growing distance between him and his team. Loneliness takes the place of his previous irritated anxiety, and he isn’t sure what’s worse.

It all comes to a head at the end of a case in Michigan. They’re stuck in the lounge of the small inn they’d stayed in the last few days, a snowstorm having blocked them in and grounded the jet, although Gideon had long since retreated to his room. The fire’s going and they’re the only guests around, so it’s cosy enough, but Spencer can’t help but feel sick at the idea of another night away from home.

It’s only been two weeks since he’d snapped at Derek, but the chasm between him and the team is only widening with each passing day. He knows it’s not a case of ‘pick a side’, but the team’s morale relies on light-hearted banter and teasing, and him not being a part of that anymore has only brewed awkwardness. Everyone’s trying to give him space when space is the last thing he wants.

Oscar’s keeping him company over the phone at least, but it’s not quite enough to quell the loneliness swimming around his stomach, and the 'discrete' sideways looks he gets from the team only make him feel worse.

“At least it’s nice and toasty in here,” JJ sighs as she takes a sip of the hot chocolate the kindly inn owner had made for them all.

Elle hums in agreement. “There are worse places to be grounded.”

“I dunno, man, I just wanna get home,” Derek says, not taking his eyes off the fire. Spencer can’t help but agree.

“Oh, come on,” Hotch muses, considerably more jovial now the case is over, “we’re here, and that’s not going to change any time soon. We should make the most of it.”

“It’s at least nice to be somewhere sort-of Christmassy now it’s December,” Elle points out. “We could be stuck in a dingy police station like we probably will be next week.”

“Ooh, I noticed that Jemimah and Kiran started planning the Christmas party last week,” JJ says, smiling at them. “I offered my help, but they seem to have it covered.”

Hotch raises an eyebrow“That’s probably a good thing. You don’t need more work on your plate.”

“Not gonna argue with that,” she murmurs, smiling as she brings her mug to her lips again.

Spencer doesn’t miss that Derek is still stewing on the opposite side of the room.

“Are you looking forward to the Christmas party, Spencer? Will you come?” Hotch asks, clearly trying to rope him into the conversation, which he appreciates. He’s been making a lot of effort with him the past few weeks, and it’s just about the only thing that’s getting him through each day.

Before he can reply, though, Derek erupts from the other side of the room; an already pissed-off man being pushed over the edge. “He won’t even let us meet his fucking girlfriend, Hotch, he’s not gonna want to come to the Christmas party!” he yells, throwing his hands in the air as he glares at Spencer with a stormy expression raging across his face.

Suddenly, Spencer can’t stay silent anymore, and his retort shocks himself just as much as it does everyone else. “I don’t have a girlfriend!”

It might be the loudest he’s ever shouted in his whole life. He’s always been quiet and restrained, the type to state his feelings as calmly as possible no matter how he’s feeling on the inside. Even in the biggest fight he’s had with Oscar, his voice was barely loud enough to qualify as a shout.

There’s a brief stunned silence, but Derek quickly slices his way through it, voice raising to meet Spencer’s fiery emotion, fierce and loud. “Oh, don’t even go there, Reid, you’re really gonna try and argue that? You’re gonna lie about her as well as not let us meet her? What a boyfriend you are.”

“I don’t! I don’t have a girlfriend!” he repeats, voice catching this time as tears rise unbidden to the backs of his eyes and all the emotions of the journey he’s taken with his sexuality over the years flood him in a wave of intensity he’s not prepared for.

“You’re fucking lying—!”

“I have a boyfriend!” he yells. “Alright? I have a boyfriend. I’m gay.”

The anger and emotion quickly dissipates, and he’s left standing alone in front of the team he’s put so much effort into hiding this from, watching shock spell out across everyone’s expressions. He’s never felt smaller than he does in that moment, and he quickly grabs his phone before running upstairs to his room, locking the door behind him.

“Oh God, Oscar, I fucked up so bad,” he cries over the phone as soon as his boyfriend picks up.

“Hey, hey, breathe, baby,” Oscar says gently, but Spencer can hear the anxious concern in his voice, “it’s gonna be okay, I promise. I’m here. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“I just— Oh God, I just told the team.” A new wave of horror rolls over him as he realises what he’s done. Times might be changing, but it’s still only 2006, and he doesn’t know each and every nuance of his team members’ political positions and, fuck, he hates that his existence is a fucking political position.

Oscar’s been so understanding of his reluctance to not tell the team, even though Spencer’s met pretty much everyone in his life. He isn’t sure what he’s done to earn such a gracious and understanding boyfriend, but he’s not about to question it.

“Baby, I know it’s scary, and I know you’re really worked up right now,” he counsels, voice soft and reassuring, using the nickname he knows Spencer loves the most to make him feel as safe as he can from 700 miles away, “but it’s probably not as bad as you think. From what you’ve told me about the team, they love you so much, and even in the case that in the past they've had some issue with gay people, I can't imagine they’d ever actually think of you any differently when it comes down to it, Spencer.”

He’s crying too hard to reply, and Oscar understands immediately, gently transitioning into a story about his day that slowly starts to calm him down, and by the time he’s wrapping it up, his tears are starting to subside.

“Thank you, Ozzy,” he whispers into the phone, lifting himself up off the floor and making his way to sit on the bed instead.

“You know I’d do anything for you, sweetheart,” he murmurs warmly. “Do you want me to stay on the phone for a bit?”

“Yes please,” he whispers again, holding it as close to himself as possible, drawing all the comfort he can from his boyfriend’s voice.

He lies there listening to Oscar’s voice and trying not to think about the disaster downstairs for a good ten minutes before there’s a tap at the door.

“Oz, there’s someone here,” he says, voice panicked.

“I think you should probably speak to them, baby,” he urges. “I’ll stay on the phone with you while you do, if you like?”

“Please.” He gets up from the bed gingerly, keeping his phone tightly gripped in his right hand as he slowly unlocks the door with his left, revealing Hotch on the other side.

“Hey, Spencer. Do you mind if I come in?”

He’s riddled with nerves, but Hotch is smiling warmly, and he’s never said a harsh word to Spencer, so he steps aside and lets him into his room.

Hotch quickly notices the phone in his hand, visibly still on a call. “Is that your boyfriend?”

Spencer nods.

“Do you mind if I talk to him?”

His brows knit in confusion and his lips part slightly in surprise, but it’s all he can do to hand the phone over, watching Hotch carefully.

“Hi, Spencer tells me this is his boyfriend?” Hotch inquires politely into the phone, his tone still warm. “I’m Hotch, Spencer’s boss.”

He can vaguely hear Oscar speaking on the other end of the line, and he worries slightly that Oscar will somehow give away the familial feelings he holds for Hotch, but the conversation doesn’t last long enough for the anxiety to really take over.

“Everything’s fine here, I just want to have a conversation with Spencer, so is it alright if we hang up and I talk to him alone for a minute? He can call you straight back afterwards.” After a brief pause in which Oscar says something, Hotch looks back up at him. “Are you okay with that, Spencer?”

He nods hesitantly, and Hotch says a quick goodbye to Oscar before surging forwards and wrapping Spencer in a hug. It catches him off guard, but he doesn’t waste any time in burying his face into Hotch’s neck and soaking in the comfort and warmth that always radiates from his father figure.

“Come on,” Hotch says softly as they pull away a good minute or so later, “let’s sit down, shall we?”

“You’re not mad?” Spencer can’t help but ask, the question burning his tongue as anxiety — however quietened from Hotch’s hug — still swims around in his stomach.

“There are many things that could make me mad, Spencer,” he says earnestly, “but this is not one of them. I would never be angry at you for being who you are, okay? I might… I might be overstepping here, and if I am, then tell me and I’ll back off, but I’ve always seen you as a mentee, and over the years that’s developed— well, I see you more as a son these days. And part of that is wanting to protect and support you no matter what you do or say or who you are.”

Spencer wastes no time in diving back in for a hug, clinging onto Hotch for dear life as he hugs back, rubbing his back gently.

“I’m so sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell us sooner, Spencer,” he says in a voice soft with affection and regret. “But I’m so glad you’ve told us now.”

He only presses closer at that, tears springing back to his eyes. “I didn’t want to lose you.” He knows what he’s implying, and even in a roundabout way, he’s glad he’s telling Hotch.

“Oh, Spence,” he sighs sadly, “you couldn’t do a single thing to lose me. I’m in it for the long haul.”

“Really?” he asks, hating how insecure he sounds.

“Really,” Hotch promises, pulling away as Spencer does. “Now, you have a whole team of agents downstairs who are feeling very sorry for themselves and really want to see you.”

Nausea rolls in his stomach and panic springs back up as he looks at Hotch, desperate for some sort of grounding. “Are they angry at me? Do they hate me now?”

“No one hates you, Spencer,” he says firmly. “I promise you that. Everyone just wishes that they’d made you feel more welcome and comfortable. We all hate that you felt you had to lock up something so integral to who you are, and we can’t help but feel we played a part in it.”

“No,” he protests — the last thing he wants is family blaming themselves when it has nothing to do with them, “it’s not your fault, it’s just…”

Hotch nods. “I understand, it’s okay. Now, do you want to go down and see them? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but it might help ease your mind to see that they really don’t hate you.”

Spencer pauses, taking a moment to think. “Can I see Derek first?”

“Of course,” Hotch says understandingly, and the comforting smile that crosses his face makes Spencer feel safe and taken care of. “I’ll send him up?”

Spencer nods and Hotch hugs him once more before leaving the room almost reluctantly. He wastes no time in picking up his phone and sending a text to Oscar. You were right. Hotch is fine. He’s just sending Derek up before I go and see the team but he says that no one’s angry and I think I believe him. Thank you, Oscar. I love you.

Not even half a minute goes past before his phone lights up with a text back. I’m so glad, baby. Call me later, okay? I want to make sure you’re okay before I go to bed. I love you more.

Before Spencer can argue that actually, he is the one more in love with the other, a hesitant knock sounds on his door. Nerves suddenly flip his stomach, and he clenches and unclenches his fists a couple of times before forcing himself to cross the room, revealing a very worried and regretful-looking Derek.

“Oh, pretty boy,” he says sadly, before crushing Spencer in a warm and tender hug. Immediately, he relaxes into the arms of one of his best friends, and relief courses through his blood at Derek’s reaction. “I am so sorry that I ever made you feel like you couldn’t tell me that you were gay or had a boyfriend. That’s completely on me. I don’t care who you love, Spencer, I just want you to be happy, okay? And if this guy makes you happy, then that’s fine by me. But if he ever lays a hand on you or—”

“Derek, Derek,” he laughs, “it’s fine I get it. Thank you, though, I’m… I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you earlier and for snapping at you in the bullpen that time…”

“I understand, Spence,” he promises. “It’s in the past, okay? And I’m sorry for pushing so hard. I mean, I’d love to meet him but if you don’t feel comfortable or you don’t want to, that’s fine, too. It’s your life, man.”

“No, I… I think I want you guys to meet him. It’s been so hard to keep him away from the people I consider my family, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. Maybe after Christmas, we can all have dinner or something.”

Spencer smiles shyly. “Well, Oscar’s a great cook, so I reckon we could work something out.”

Derek grins, throwing an arm around his shoulders as he immediately jumps back into teasing him as they make their way to the door to go downstairs and see the rest of the team. “Ooh, lover boy’s got him a chef, hey? What else does this Oscar have going for him?”

Spencer chatters eagerly about his boyfriend to Derek, barely skipping a beat when he joins everyone downstairs, his friends taking his cues and joining in with the conversation seamlessly. He’s had enough fuss for one night, and the warmth and understanding on everyone’s faces tells him everything he needs to know.

“Do you have any pictures of him?” JJ asks, raising an eyebrow with eager expectancy as they all settle back into their seats by the fire, a warm and unbelievably happy feeling settling in Spencer’s stomach.

He blushes, digging out his phone from his pocket and unlocking it. “More than a few, I think.”

He finds the most recent picture of his boyfriend — a candid shot of him cooking in the kitchen, spatula aloft, and a huge grin on his face — and hands the phone around.

“Oh wow, you like them buff, huh, pretty boy?” Derek teases as soon as he gets his hands on it, and Spencer’s stomach twists in a sudden bout of fear, expecting to see some hesitancy or even disgust on his friend’s face. What if he thinks that Spencer has a crush on him? What if he’s uncomfortable around him now?

But if Derek’s having any of those thoughts, they don’t show on his face. He’s smiling widely and openly, all the pent-up anxiety and frustration borne from hurt gone from his body language, and he looks completely comfortable sat next to Spencer, his arm stretched out behind him on the back of the sofa.

They sit happily around the fire for a couple of hours, settling into a happy, intimate familiarity Spencer hadn’t realised was missing when he was hiding something so integral to his being from his family, and he’s still smiling when they finally part ways to head to bed, the clock ticking closer and closer to 1 am.

He gets ready for bed quickly, brushing his teeth and throwing on the top he’d stolen from Oscar the first time he’d stayed at his place; a welcome change from his worn and wrinkled suit. As soon as his teeth are brushed and the lights are all off except for his bedside lamp, he pulls out his phone, knowing there’s one more thing he has to do before he goes to sleep.

“Spencer?” Penelope’s voice sounds down the line, clearly concerned. “It’s almost 2 am here, are you okay?”

“I’m gay,” he says, getting straight to the point. The main reason he ever kept it from her was because of his fear of it accidentally getting out to the team rather than fear over her reaction. After all, multiple of his drag queen friends are also hers.

“Oh my God,” she says in that small voice she uses when she’s not actually talking to you, before finally actually replying to me. “Spencer, I’m so happy you told me!”

He doesn’t miss her choice of words, or the way she says them and he tilts his head suspiciously. “You already knew, didn’t you?”

She sighs. “Yeah. I’m sorry, a couple of months ago I saw a text from Oscar on your phone when you went to the bathroom during one of our Doctor Who marathons, and it wasn’t hard to figure out the relationship.”

“And… wait, you’re not mad at me for not telling you sooner?”

“Spencer! Of course not. I was waiting for you to be comfortable enough to share it with me. I felt awful that I knew without your consent but I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want to catch you off guard or make you feel uncomfortable. It’s fine that you waited, baby genius, I’m just so happy you told me now. What finally gave you the courage?”

“Well, it might have slipped out in front of the team this evening,” he admits sheepishly, “and the only reason I never told you was because I was scared that it would slip out somehow — accidentally, of course, I didn’t think you’d tell anyone on purpose — and now everyone knows. It’s been killing me not to tell you, Penelope, it really has because I love you so much and you’re my best friend and I trust you with my life, it’s just…”

“Whoa, slow down, Spence,” she laughs fondly, “you don’t have to explain yourself to me, I understand. But I’m glad you finally told everyone and you can be yourself completely with us, now. We all love you no matter what, you know that right?”

“I do now.”

“Good. You should get some sleep, baby boy, it’s late and you’ve had an emotional evening.”

Spencer smiles. “Yeah, I know. You should, too, Pen. I’ll see you when we can finally make it home, okay? Love you.”

“Love you, too, 187,” she says softly, and Spencer can hear the smile in her voice. “Goodnight.”

As soon as he hangs up, he settles down into the bed, turning off the light and pulling the duvet up over his shoulders before dialling one more number.

“Hey, baby,” Oscar says, voice as gentle and caring as it always is, although thicker with tiredness now. “I take it everything went okay?”

“Yeah,” Spencer murmurs, already feeling tired as the safety he always feels at the sound of Oscar’s voice settles into the fibres of his being. “It went so well. I can’t wait for you to meet everyone.”

“I can’t wait either, sweetheart. Are you in bed now?”

“Yeah,” he sighs. “Can you talk to me as I fall asleep?”

“Anything for you, Spence,” he says softly, before transitioning seamlessly into a story about the professors on campus, and his gentle comfort and the knowledge of the unconditional love his family has for him finally lulls Spencer into the best sleep he’s had in weeks.

taglist : @criminalmindsvibez @moreidstrobed @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @physics-magic @sbeno22 @temily @enbyspencer @im-autistic @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @reidreids (add yourself to my taglist via this form!!)

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elivanah-writes · 3 years

Text

Gift of the gods ~2~

pairing: Paul Lahote x female!pagan!reader

Sum: y/n struggles with her feelings

warnings: fluff, a bit angst

Yes there will be a part 3

masterlist part 1

Ever since the day Kim and y/n had breakfast at Emily’s and had met Paul things had changed. She couldn’t really describe how but she felt it. Emily and the guys had been so welcoming to her and just accepted her into their group. It was nice, she had a harder time than others to trust people and she really felt like she could trust these people. She felt at ease like she belonged here. But she knew it wasn’t really the group that made her feel like that. It was mostly Paul. At the end of that day, Paul and she had exchanged phone numbers after they had sat on the beach talking while the rest of the guys played soccer. Even from those few hours of talking she could feel the connection between them like it just clicked between them. At first, she thought it was weird how quickly she felt at ease with him but then again not much surprised her anymore. And she had asked the gods for balance, who wasn’t to say that just like Kim had said the gods could have granted her wish in the form of a person?

The following few weeks she and Kim spend almost every day with Emily and the guys when they weren’t working. By the end of the first week, she really saw them all as friends. It was easy to say that she even had started to develop feelings for Paul, she didn’t know yet how strong those feelings were, but she had them. She knew he was interested in her too, he had even asked her on a date not long after that day on the beach. But she had to let him down, she really wanted to say yes but dating him would make leaving so much harder. And she knew a long-distance relationship was not something that would work for her. He understood, said that he’d be anything for her that she wanted, a brother or a best friend, he even kept the option of a lover open for her if she ever decided to give a relationship with him a shot. That only made her feelings for him grow. The way he talked to her, made her laugh or smile when she felt down. It was like he just knew what she needed, and he just gave it to her.

La Push had always been her home, it seems that being back here only made that even more clear to her. Where she lived now she never had felt like she was home, even the people she had around her, her adoptive family never felt like real family to her, she only had a good relationship with her mother, she’d do everything for her. Being back where she was truly happy made her rethink everything.

It was her last week in La Push and she didn’t know how to feel, she felt torn. She wanted nothing more than to stay here and give in to whatever she was feeling for Paul. But sadly, things weren’t that easy. She had a job to go back to, her adoptive family. She couldn’t leave just like that.

That’s how she found herself back at the beach at sunset, she had spent most of the day hanging out with Kim and Jared but she had felt like she was third-wheeling most of the time. She had muttered some lame excuse and walked the short distance to the beach where she found her usual spot and sat down. This time she wasn’t going to start a ritual, she was just going to pray to the gods. She tried to calm her racing heart as much as she could, took a few deep breaths, and cleared her mind before softly speaking.

“Make me strong in spirit, courageous in action, gentle of heart, let me act in wisdom, conquer my fear and doubts, discover my own hidden gifts, meet others with compassion, be a source of healing energy, and face each day with hope and joy” she repeated the mantra a few times until she felt completely calm and had a clear mind. She knew she could make decisions better with a clear mind. It had felt like only a few minutes had passed since she had arrived at the beach but when she looked up, she saw that the sun had gone down completely and made place for the dark night. She must have zoned out for quite some time because she could hear voices calling out for her. As fast as she could she got to her feet and slipped from behind the bushes and surely, she could see Paul and Jared walking straight at her spot calling out her name. It was like they knew she would be here.

“I’m here! Sorry, I lost track of time.” She spoke as she walked in their direction. “How did you even know that I was here?”

“Kim told us you like to come to the beach to think so we figured that we would find you here,” Paul said as he scratched the back of his neck like he wasn’t completely sure of what he was saying. Kim never knew about her usual spot on the beach so she knew Kim couldn’t have told them, but she didn’t call him out on it. “Well, I’m taking Kim to dinner, so I need to get going if we want to be on time. See you guys later.” Jared said before taking off leaving her and Paul alone on the beach.

“Walk with me?”

“Sure” she smiled as he held her hand and started to walk together along the shore.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” he said after a long comfortable silence “I don’t really know how to start. It’ll actually sound crazy, but I need you to trust me.”

“Of course, you can tell me anything, Paul. Whatever it is, I’ll promise that I won’t judge you.” She reassured him and softly squeezed his hand letting him know he could go on.

“I don’t know if Kim ever told you about our tribe’s legends?”

“Her parents did, I think, back when we were little. I thought those stories were amazing, how some of your tribe members are supposed to transform into these giant wolves to protect the rez, right? At least that’s what I remember, it’s been a long time since I last heard them.” She smiled as she thought back to the times that Kim’s mother tucked them into bed and told them all these stories.

“Yeah, that’s the essence of the legend. But what if I said that those aren’t just stories, what if…?”

“It was you, wasn’t it?” she quickly says when he didn’t finish his sentence. she knew that the wolf she had seen on her first night here in La Push had seemed familiar when she thinks back to it, the wolf’s eyes had looked so much like Paul’s. And in a way she felt like she had always known, he had been the wolf that had been watching her as she did her ritual.

“What?” Paul asked a bit confused and stopped walking to turn towards her; this wasn’t how he thought she would react. Yes, he had expected her to take it better than how most people would but this he didn’t understand.

“The day I arrived, I came to the beach and I saw two wolves. You were one of them, weren’t you?”

Paul could only stare at her in amazement. She knew, she just knew and didn’t freak out about it.

“How did you know?” He asked softly

“When we met at Emily’s I already had the feeling that we’ve met before, your eyes just seemed so familiar, and then one day when we were talking you just looked me straight in the eye and I just knew where I had seen your eyes before. It was those wolf’s eyes, it was you,” she explains with a soft smile.

“So you’re not afraid of me?”

“No, of course not. Call it strange, but I knew you’d never hurt me from the first second that I saw you. I felt a connection like it was meant to be.”

“I’d die before I’d ever hurt you. I promise you I’ll never hurt you,” he said as he cupped her cheek with his free hand looking at her like she had hung the moon and stars in his sky. Little did she know that was exactly how he felt. The moment was so intimate that neither noticed that they started to lean into each other until their noses touched. Before Y/n really knew it soft warm lips brushed over hers and for a minute she forgot all about why she felt like a relationship with him wouldn’t work. At that moment it was only him and her and nothing else mattered but them. If she had to describe it she’d say that a bomb of butterfly’s exploded inside her belly. If she wasn’t sure about her feelings for Paul, she was now, she was in love with him. Her mind was clear, no worries, no questions, just warmth and him. She let herself be selfish for once. Pressing her lips fully against his deepening the kiss into a passionate embrace of their lips. She doesn’t know how long they stood there with one of his hands on her cheek while his other hand was still holding hers as their lips and tongues danced with each other.

The days following that kiss felt like she went through hell, it’s not like she regretted the kiss but it had complicated things. Leaving La Push, leaving Paul was going to be one of the hardest things she needed to do. That day after he dropped her off at Kim’s place she had cried herself to sleep, mourning a life she wished she could have with Paul here in La Push. For once in her life, she disliked the fact that she had a family and a job waiting for her to come back to. The following days she stayed inside her room, silenced her phone, and kept herself busy with packing her bags. Both Paul and Kim tried to talk to her, tried to figure out what was wrong but they were met with silence. That was until Kim had enough of her sulking and just used the spare key to open her bedroom door. Kim’s heart broke a little when she saw her best friend sitting in a corner of the room with teary eyes. She just sat down next to her, pulled y/n into her embrace, and cried with her like she already knew what she was going through.

“ Whatever you decide to do, this will always your home too y/n,” Kim said later that night when they lay on her bed before the two of them fell asleep.

Friday had never come this quick before, all her bags were packed and loaded into Kim’s father’s truck ready to drive her to the airport. Kim’s family had wanted to throw her a goodbye party but y/n shut that down as soon as they had vocalized the idea. Instead, she just wanted to spend her last hours in La Push with them as a family. Now she sat on the edge of her bed, taking in the room for the last time when suddenly there was a knock on her already open door. She expected it would be Kim or her father, but instead, she saw Paul standing there leaning against the doorpost. When their eyes met he gave her a soft smile that didn’t reach his eyes completely. He looked like he hadn’t slept more than a handful of hours in the last few days and she knew that it was probably because of her but still he smiled at her.

“So you were leaving without saying goodbye?” He said. It was more a statement than a question.

“I’m sorry, I just thought it would be easier like that.” She softly says as she turns her eyes back to her hands.

“Why would that be easier? Please talk to me, don’t shut me out.” Paul asks as he makes his way into her room and sits down next to her. “Because it just makes leaving harder, I can’t say goodbye to you.”

“Then don’t, don’t leave. Stay here with me.” he pleads, takes one of her hands in his, and gives it a soft squeeze so she would look up at him.

When their eyes meet again he can clearly see the tears in them ready to fall.

“ As much as I’d want to stay I can’t. Please don’t make this harder Paul,”

As soon as she started talking the tears fell, her heart already starting to break.

“If you want to stay, then stay. We can work something out, we can work. What, what about that kiss? You can’t deny that it felt right, amazing even.” he spoke like he was getting desperate.

“Yes that kiss was amazing and felt right but it complicated everything. I really like you, a lot, but I have a life back home, people who expect me to come home.”

“I know, I’m not asking you to give them up. I’m asking you to give me a chance, to give us a chance.” He says turning his body fully in her direction.

“Look I know this isn’t the way I wanted to tell you but there is another part of the legend that I haven’t told you yet. Every wolf has this ability to imprint. It’s when we find that one person and you look at her for the first time and suddenly it’s not gravity that holds you, it’s her. She gives the wolf balance, peace. The wolf’s whatever the imprint wants him to be, a brother, protector, a friend, or a lover. they’re soulmates.” He explains as he looks at her hopefully.

“I’m your imprint.”

It was something she already knew deep inside herself, it might not be in the same words but she knew, she felt it. He brought her balance and she had never felt more at peace and loved. That’s why it was that much harder. Soulmate or not, long-distance would never work, but then again staying wasn’t an option. She had too many people depending on her back home, she couldn’t leave them fending for themselves. She couldn’t be selfish even if she wanted to be.

“Yes, you’re my imprint.” He smiled weakly as she just cried a bit harder than she already was and without thinking he pulled her against his chest. He knew he couldn’t force her to stay so his heart broke together with hers. He understood why she was leaving and couldn’t stay. But you couldn’t fault a man for trying, he wanted what’s best for and if that was not here with him then he had to let her go.

“Can we at least stay friends, stay in touch?” he asked her while a tear of his own fell.

tags:

@its-la-push @ghostmistwalker @bisexualcrazybeans @fatiguing-thoughts @pawfect-melody

#paul lahote #paul lahote x reader #alex meraz #twilight #paul lahote x y/n #paul x reader #paul lahote fanfiction #pagan reader #wolfpack #embry call #jacob black #Jared Cameron #sam uley #Quil Ateara #Kim

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dialovers-translations · 3 years

Text

DIABOLIK LOVERS MORE, BLOOD Official Visual Fanbook Short Story: Sakamaki Laito VS Mukami Azusa

Source: Diabolik Lovers More, Blood Official Visual Fanbook

Release date: 2013

Disclaimer: Both sides portray the same story, but from a different perspective. The first story is written from Laito’s POV, while the second portrays the events from Azusa’s POV.

LAITO’S SIDE

ーー They say that sharing is caring.

However, something truly delicious, I would rather not share with anyone at all.

While said thought crosses my mind, I push Bitch-chan down against the classroom floor before forcibly peeling the clothes from her body.

“No...Don’t! Not here...!”

“Oh my~? You wouldn’t mind if we were somewhere else then? Little lewd Bitch-chan?”

When I tease her with those words, her face flushes a bright crimson.

How cute, I find myself thinking, while at the same time feeling just a tinge of regret knowing that the black figure looming in the corner of my eye witnessed the same sight.

Aah, geez. What a waste.

“Eve is...protesting. However...That’s a good thing, no? It is, right?”

This person...Azusa-kun moves behind Bitch-chan, restraining her arms so she can no longer move.

“Azusa-kuuun~? ...What are you doing, if I may ask?”

“Eh? I just thought I would...make Eve feel even better...”

The words had only just left his lips, and he already latched onto her nape.

He was too quick, I didn’t even have the time to stop him.

I get thrown off.

Azusa-kun has always been a hard nut for me to crack.

He may seem similar to Kanato-kun at first glance, but they are worlds apart.

“Nfu~ ...Geez, Bitch-chan...Look at you totally enjoying Azusa-kun’s fangs even though you belong to me. What a naughty girl you are.”

I can’t let myself lose either, so I button down her blouse.

And then, after baring her chest, I immediately plunged my fangs inside the exposed skin.

Like that, I savor her sweet, syrupy blood.

I can see Azusa-kun’s hair moving behind her shoulder.

Quite unexpectedly, Azusa-kun seems to be sinking his fangs inside Bitch-chan’s back.

“Taking off her clothes is my job though...”

As a result, her shirt had already been completely discarded at some point, as she stood there almost completely bare.

I could not help but let a sigh slip.

“Say, Laito-san....? Let’s give Eve more pain...together, okay...? You want that too, don’t you, Eve? My fangs...and Laito-san’s fangs too...”

“Nfu...~”

Azusa-kun speaks those words, seemingly enjoying the current situation very much.

Usually, I would get even more excited from seeing Bitch-chan as she has her blood sucked.

Watching her gasp for air from someone else’s fangs.

However...Such thoughts did not even cross my mind, as I instead felt a strong urge to keep her blood all to myself.

“Geez, what is going on...Haah...”

While sighing, I bury my face in her stomach.

She twists her body at the ticklish sensation, but thanks to Azusa-kun’s strong grip, she is unable of getting away.

I feel puzzled by this situation where it almost seems as if she is being offered to me.

“Haah...I suppose it can’t be helped. I wouldn’t be quite myself if I didn’t try and make the best of this situation, right?”

I whisper those words almost as if I am trying to convince myself, before sinking my fangs inside the soft flesh of Bitch-chan’s stomach.

ーー The End.

AZUSA’S SIDE

ーー That person also told me that I should give my genuine gratitude in response to other people’s gifts.

The classroom after school.

Eve’s shrill cries echo through the room.

“No...Don’t! Not here...!”

“Oh my~? You wouldn’t mind if we were somewhere else then? Little lewd Bitch-chan?”

After having fallen victim to Laito-san’s ministrations, Eve’s skin is slowly being bared like a pupa shedding its skin.

I grab her arms in the process.

Because I figured that it would be easier on Laito-san if I were to restrain her like this.

“Eve is...protesting. However...That’s a good thing, no? It is, right?”

When I say that, Laito-san looks me straight into the eyes.

I wonder if that is his way of agreeing with me?

Somehow that makes me feel very happy.

“Azusa-kuuun~? ...What are you doing, if I may ask?”

However, watching my actions, he asked me the aforementioned question.

“Eh? I just thought I would...make Eve feel even better...”

I respond instantly, before latching onto Eve’s temptingly trembling nape.

“Nfu~ ...Geez, Bitch-chan...Look at you totally enjoying Azusa-kun’s fangs even though you belong to me. What a naughty girl you are.”

While I feel a pang of guilt at Laito-san’s disappointed tone in his voice, I can’t stop myself.

I’ve been thirsty this whole time.

While I was going to let Laito-san go first, I couldn’t hold myself back.

I gulp down her sweet blood.

I feel as if my body rejoices at this syrupy taste spreading inside my mouth.

“Haah...Eve.”

While quietly whispering her name, I firmly tugged her closer by the back of the collar of her loosened shirt.

Her pale backside is in full view.

The fairness of her skin seems to be begging me to thrust my fangs inside.

Without speaking a word, I bit her there as well.

My fangs gradually sink inside.

Each time, her body twitches for a split second.

I wonder if she trembles from the pain of my fangs.

“Say, Laito-san....? Let’s give Eve more pain...together, okay...? You want that too, don’t you, Eve? My fangs...and Laito-san’s fangs too...”

I leave painful scars all across her fair back, like trampling over freshly fallen snow.

She has definitely been yearning for this the whole time as well.

Therefore, I am convinced she wishes for Laito-san to do the same. It is obvious.

Right as that thought crossed my mind...

“Nfu...~”

Laito-san’s reaction confirmed my words.

It’s just like I thought.

Laito-san has also been enlightened to the pleasure that is pain. ...In other words, he is just like me.

Overwhelmed by joy, I once again sink my fangs in Eve’s back.

Because to me, being able to share the joy stemming from this meaningful action is all I could ever wish for.

So all together...Let’s do more and more painful things...?

What do you say? Sounds good, no?

ーー The End.

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #laito sakamaki #azusa mukami #diabolik lovers short story #diabolik lovers more blood official visual fanbook #diabolik lovers versus story #diabolik lovers translation

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irisofpurple · 3 years

Text

Good Girl

Summary: What happens when Lana comes home to Ethan, fashionably late after a girls night?

Book: Open Heart Book 3 (post ending)

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey×f!MC (Lana Stevens)

Word Count: 2k.

Warnings/Rating: Smut, Swearing, NSFW; Explicit.

A/N: This is pure filth and nothing but filth. A self indulgent produce of my very Scorpio brain and the smuttiest fic I've ever written. I'm not exactly sorry but you've been warned jskssjjkkhhssk. It follows up after New Look, which was my first ever Pictagram edit. I suppose you can still read this if you missed that though. Hope you enjoy reading!

This work is NSFW and meant for 18+ readers only. Please use discretion.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to Pixelberry.

A rush of giddy excitement hit her as she turned the keys to his apartment, making her stumble slightly at the doorstep as she entered.

Alcohol from the countless shots Jackie made them do was still hot and pumping through her veins. In her drunken haze, Sienna had actually convinced her to keep the wig on.

She adjusted it slightly before she realised she'd stepped into pin drop silence, the moonlight streaming in through the floor to ceiling windows the only source of light cutting through the darkness.

A quick glance at her watch told her it was 2:30 AM. Way past Ethan's bedtime.

Her stomach dropped. The girls night had went on longer than she'd anticipated. They'd gotten a bit carried away between gossiping and drinking to new beginnings. It had been a while since they'd had a relaxing night as this after all.

As fun as that was, what Lana was really looking forward to tonight was seeing Ethan. All that teasing had made her as hot as she'd hoped to have made him. She wanted to leave right then but it wouldn't have been fair to her friends.

Her shoulders slumped. It was no use now.

She turned head into the bedroom, the knowledge that she'd find him peacefully asleep making her heart sink a little.

"You're late."

The familiar rumble of his voice echoed through the room, making her gasp in surprise and turn back around.

There he was. Sitting at the bar with a glass of scotch nestled in his hand.

Her heart jumped in her throat, a fresh surge of adrenaline coursing through her, renewing her excitement even more than before.

The contrasting shadows and moonlight highlighted his already sharp jawline, making him look more beautiful than ever.

Slowly, he rose from his seat, drawing nearer to her, his dark predatory gaze never leaving her. She wasn't able to look away either, her belly clenching with anticipation with every step he took.

She shivered as he ran his fingers though the red hair, his blue eyes going the deepest shade of sapphire possible.

"You're still wearing it, I see." he muttered darkly, a dangerous edge to his voice.

A slow smirk spread across her face. She knew no joy like seeing Ethan Ramsey tethering on the edge in a struggle for control.

And she'd make sure he fell over tonight.

"I thought you'd fallen asleep." she said, feigning nonchalance, pointedly ignoring his observation.

In a sudden movement, he pulled her hand by the wrist to the front of his pants, making her feel his hardness though the fabric.

"Do you know how hard it is to sleep like this?" He said through gritted teeth.

Lana was unfazed. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips as she stared right back into those celestial blues.

"I can only imagine." She murmured huskily as her fingers caressed him ever so slightly, confidence oozing through her as he twitched violently at her touch.

He pulled her hand away and onto his chest, having realized that his move had backfired.

"You made me wait." He accused, his rebellious gaze dropping to her lips.

"I think I know exactly how to make up for it." Lana said with coquettish smirk.

She captured his lips soon after, not letting him a chance to say anything more. Her hands travelled down to palm his bulge once more, making him groan against her lips. Tongues tangled in a desperate battle for dominance, their need for each other assuming more importance than air for a few breathless moments.

Lana pushed him onto the couch, looking down at him with a devilish smile as she pulled off her wig, shaking free her natural blonde curls. They fell around her shoulders gracefully as Ethan watched her with an awestruck look on his face, all traces of resistance gone. She took off her top next, taking delight in his sharp intake of breath as her breasts spilled free before his reverent eyes, following to straddle his lap and continue kissing him with abandon.

Her lips trailed down the corded muscles of his neck, sucking and biting as she goes. Ethan's hands meanwhile were firmly gripping her waist, another one inching underneath her skirt, closer and closer to her soaked core.

But she wouldn't let him get there. Not yet.

His shirt flew across the living room in a matter of seconds and then she on her knees before him, her lips having left a wet trail of kisses all over his chest and abs.

She unbuckled his belt with deft fingers, pulling down the redundant material of his trousers. His cock sprung free, jutting out in all it's glory, demanding immediate attention.

Her delicate fingers gripped him firmly, pumping him a few times torturously.

"Lana.." Ethan groaned helplessly.

She gave him a smile that she knew he found devastating.

"Feel free to pull my hair." she said as she moved to give a long luscious lick along his length.

Her blood red lips were wrapped around his cock the next second, causing Ethan's hips to buck up involuntarily. His fingers tangled in her hair, making her hum around him in satisfaction.

She was on her knees but the one surrendering was Ethan, completely at her mercy. That knowledge was as beholding as it was empowering.

She sank down the length of him, hollowing out her cheeks, relishing every grunt and moan that escaped his throat as she took him deeper into her own.

She repeated the motion, working him up, not letting the involuntary gags or tears brimming in her eyes stop her from taking him where she wanted.

Keeping eye contact, she realised him with a dizzying pop only to suck on his heavy balls till they were as wet as his now glistening cock.

The look of sheer adoration mixed with lust and frustration on his face had to the hottest thing she'd ever witnessed. It made her own folds drip with arousal.

Her tongue flicked across the slit of his tip, before her warm mouth engulfed him once more to bob down his steely length with determination, taking him all the way in.

"Sweetheart, you're going to make me.. FUCKK!"

His grip on her hair tightened, almost to the point of pain. It only served to excite her more. She didn't let up till he emptied himself down her throat, cursing as he shook and came like never before.

She licked him clean, not leaving a single drop.

She felt breathless and a little punch drunk as he pulled her up and into his arms, kissing her tenderly, softly caressing her cheek and wiping away the tears.

He pulled back to look at her, concern etching his handsome face. "Are you okay?"

She laughed. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"

He seemed satisfied with her answer because the look of worry gave way to a roguish smirk.

"Just needed to be sure cause I'm not done with you yet."

"Wha-"

"Shhh." He silenced her with his fingers. "You had your way with me, didn't you? Now it's my turn."

"But.." her query died in a moan as Ethan's fingers found her dripping core.

"Damn." He hissed. "How are you already so wet?"

Lana was in no shape to answer because his thumb was working her clit in maddening circles, excruciating pleasure rippling through her as two fingers curled into her slick passage.

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as his skillful fingers moved over her with precision and expertise, over and over again. Just when she was about to reach her peak however, he ceased all movements.

Lana cried out in disappointment from the sudden loss of sensations.

"What are you doing?" she hissed at him in frustration.

Ethan only smiled. "You didn't think I'd let you get away with all that teasing so fast, did you?"

"What do you-"

"Hush, my darling. I said it was my turn. You made me wait for you all evening. Now close your eyes."

"But-"

"No arguments." He said firmly.

Lana hesitantly shut her eyes, the ache between her legs getting unbearable with each passing second.

"Good girl." She could hear the smile in his voice. "Don't move an inch and keep your eyes shut. I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?" she cried. "You can't leave me like this."

"Don't you trust me, my love?" He chastened.

Lana gulped. "I do but.."

"No buts then. I promise I'll make it worth your while but no cheating or this ends here."

"No!" Lana shook her head. "I'll do as you say."

"That's my girl."

She heard his footsteps fade away as she struggled to stay still. She was tempted to take a peek and more anything else, touch herself and soothe the throb between her legs. She could get off so easily right now.

But she didn't dare disobey. The wait and build up made her wetter and more turned on than she'd ever been.

Her breath came in shallow pants as she waited and by the time he was back, she felt like one touch would be enough to make her explode.

He secured a silky fabric across her eyes and she heard a low click of glass on the surface of the table.

What the hell was that?

Her heart pounded in her chest and her sex clenched in anticipation.

"Hands above your head and don't move. Or I'll have to tie you up."

She nodded eagerly, following his instructions. "Please Ethan."

He chuckled. "Patience, my love. If there's anything I learnt tonight, it's that waiting makes everything better."

She gasped as she felt his lips on her inner thighs, his beard deliciously scraping her skin as he kissed her everywhere but where she needed him most. It was too much but not enough.

His fingers hooked around the lace of her panties. "As pretty as these are, they have to go."

A loud rip followed, tearing through the room and informing her that her panties were definitely in shreds.

"That was.." she choked out, almost in alarm, unable to finish her sentence. But Ethan seemed to understand her concern.

"I'll buy you more." He grunted.

She felt warm liquid slosh onto her chest, flowing down slowly between the valley of her breasts and down her belly, making her entire body tingle.

Her back arched as the flow inched closer to her pulsing core. She moaned out loud as it finally reached it's destination, suddenly cooling her hot sex.

Ethan's mouth closed on her clit before she could process what was going on.

"Ethannn" She cried out.

She didn't recognize the feline noises escaping her, gasping and moaning for her life as she climbed higher and higher with each masterful stroke of his tongue.

"God. I thought scotch was best had neat. I was wrong. So wrong." He muttered against her sex.

The low rumble vibrated through her body and as soon as his fingers joined the ministrations of his mouth, Lana catapulted over the edge, fireworks exploding behind her eyes and blinding her with hot white pleasure as she came all over his face harder than ever. He didn't stop till all the aftershocks rocking her subsided, letting her ride out her orgasm.

He removed her blindfold and pulled her into his arms, gently kissing the top of her head as she hugged him feebly.

As she caught her breath, her eyes landed on the expensive half empty bottle of scotch and she laughed. "Scotch and sex? Who would've thought?"

Ethan chuckled, running his fingers through her hair. "Me apparently. How did it feel?"

She buried her face in his chest, feeling her face heat. "You know how I felt. I was pretty vocal about it."

Low masculine laughter rumbled through his chest making her heart squeeze and sex clench, like she didn't just have the best orgasm of her life.

She wasn't embarrassed though because she could feel his rock hard errection against her thigh.

She looked up at him mischievously. "Are we ready for a round two?"

She yelped as he lifted her, her thighs wrapping around his waist as he carried her to their bedroom.

"Always."

Whew! I hope you enjoyed reading that. As usual, I'd love to know what you think. Please forgive the mistakes if there are any. I couldn't proofread due to shortage of time.

Tags: @lem-20 @pixie88 @aleynareads @maurine07 @whimsicallywayward15 @lovingramsey @coffeeheartaddict @txemrn @shewillreadyou @aussieez @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @schnitzelbutterfingers @imaneditorthankyouverymuch @mercury84choices @thegreentwin @adiehardfan @custaroonie @headoverheelsforramsey @openheartfanfics @choicesficwriterscreations

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