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icky-rickyy · 25 days

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Joy Ride

Motorcyclist!Logan x Motorcyclist!reader

I am currently obsessing over street bike tik tok. Taking a short break from my multi part I am writing to supply this beauty.

Rated: E for everyone.

Should I do a part2

“Do you really think this is a good idea?” Marissa, your roommate spoke from her bed. She was laid in snuggly under the covers, chin tucked to her chest and cell phone resting on her abdomen as she dedicated the first half of the day to ‘doom scrolling’ as she called it.

“Yeah why not? I never meet anyone, and I never get to show off. I haven’t gone on a joy ride in months.”

You were tugging the zipper of your armored pants up, making sure they were fastened tightly to your body.

“You’re going to go cruising into a bike meet? A male predominant space and expect to get treated like one of the guys? Your tits are out!” She inched up in her bed, resting her back against the headboard.

“The last time I went to a bike meet was with Ethan. And I went as a backpack. I didn’t even have my own bike to show off, I was just eye candy while riding bitch and holding on to him.”

“And I look better on a bike when my tits are out anyways!” You looked down the front of your white cropped top, tugging the bottom hem down.

“Are you going by yourself?”

“Well….. no. I was going to ask Ethan to meet with me. Buutttt, if you wanna play backpack then I won’t invite him.” You were pulling on a thin zip up jacket, zipping it only a quarter of the way.

“I am so sorry but this is my only Saturday off all month, I am not getting oogled at and then being scared for my life while you drive recklessly.” She shrugged her shoulders.

“Kay fine. Don’t be mad when I come home with some biker hottie and we’re knockin boots all night.”

You grabbed your helmet from the end of her bed, tucking it under your arm with a firm slap to the top of it.

“Don’t die, and don’t get any STD’s!” She cheered after you as you headed through your apartment to the front door.

You dialed quickly on your phone, tucking it between your ear and shoulder as you pulled your keys from your pocket. It only took two rings before it answered.

“Uh hello?”

Ethan was on the other side, asking pensively.

“Are you going to the bike meet at the abandoned Jiffy on 10th?” You hung your helmet on the handle bar of your bike, swinging your leg over to mount it.

“Yes. How do you even know about that?” You could hear him shuffling on the other line.

“You’ll see. I’ll be there in 20.”

You hung up the phone quickly, locking it on to your phone stand and reaching for your helmet. You pulled it on over your hair, tucking the loose strands up in the back before fastening it tightly around your chin.

The bike roared to life beneath you, and your heart settled happily in your chest. You were excited for the evening, ready to see what the rest of the day could hold.

You weren’t even sure where to park.

The abandoned parking lot was already half filled with bikes of all shapes and sizes. Riders stood talking to one another while others stayed perched on their motorcycles simply observing or scrolling on their phones. There were at least 30 people stood waiting, and the meet wasn’t meant to actually start for another 10 minuets.

You tried not to shy away from peering eyes as you rolled into the large group of people, looking for an open spot to put the kickstand up on your bike and put it in park.

There was an open spot next to an older model Harley, the owner stood leaning against his bike puffing a half smoked cigar as he looked to the others suspiciously.

It was a stark difference, your bike next to his.

His classic looking motorcycle next to your lilac purple crotch rocket. Dark black leather next to pink and white accents and flashy rims.

You pushed the kickstand down, staying mounted on your bike as you fiddled with the helmet strap. Your hair fell from its tucked in position, setting your helmet on the gas tank and pulling your gloves off to run your hands through your messy helmet hair.

You tried not to look at the man next to you, watching his eyes scan as his large chest huffed with each inhale of his cigar. He had a leather jacket folded on the seat next to him, clad in a white beater tank top and bootcut jeans help up by a large silver belt buckle. His arms were big and muscular, covered by a vast sea of body hair. A tickle of the dark hair peeked up past the neckline of his tank top and teased at the base of his throat.

He looked many years you senior, and hot as fuck.

“Hi, nice to meet you.” You stuck your hand out to him sheepishly, introducing yourself.

“Logan. Like your bike.” He nodded down, eyes narrow with a stern look on his face. His words were curt but friendly.

“Right back at ya.” You chuckled back, pausing your next sentence when your phone began to ring in your pocket.

“Sorry.”

You dismissed yourself, answering Ethan’s incoming call and pressing it to your ear.

“Hey. Yeah. I’m next to an all black Harley. It’ll be hard to miss me. Yep. See you here.” You pushed your phone back into your pocket after ending the call, adjusting your seating on your bike.

Logan was still looking around, watching people walk past and nodding to the few that gawked openly.

A group of girls still wearing their helmets were walking by, whispering and squealing quietly to themselves at the sight of your bike. They all came by to swoon with you, asking where you got it and identifying questions you weren’t unfamiliar with answering.

You could hear the signature roar of Ethan’s bike as he approached, the girls standing near all making a clearing as he pulled in behind you and parking his own bike. He dismounted, swiftly pulling off his helmet.

“Wow. I’m impressed. You might have just out done me.” He stood with his hands on his hips, watching as you pulled your leg over your bike approaching him with a hug.

It had been nearly six months since your breakup that you had last seen Ethan. You tried a few times after the initial ending of your relationship to rekindle, but it never seemed to work out.

“I didn’t even know you got a bike.” He held you proudly by your shoulders, stepping back and putting his hands to his side when the group of people around the two of you finally registered in his brain.

“Well I was tired of being a backpack, what can I say? This is your fault though. You started this addiction.” You laughed open heartedly to him, watching him nod with a smile.

“Well I have a few buddies here to catch up with, but I’ll cruise with you when we get going later.”

You nodded as a quiet response to him, smiling as you watched him walk away and into a group of guys that all hugged and high-fived him happily.

“Boyfriend?” Logan asked from next to you.

You had almost forgot he was there, looming quietly from his bike.

“No.” You laughed to him. “Ex. This is actually the first time we’ve seen each other in months.” You pulled your phone from your pocket again, sending Marissa a quick text that you had arrived safe and sound.

“His loss.” Logan muttered quietly, pulling a final drag of his cigar. You looked over with a flash of shock, watching him smirk as he flicked the tobacco to the ground and stomped it to ash.

All you did was nod with a shy smile, looking to your street shoes and kicking a loose pebble around.

The entire group of bikers waited for another 10 minutes before everyone loaded up. You pulled on your gloves and helmet again, tugging the strap tight and hopping back on to your bike. Ethan mounted his behind you, you both shared an excited glance before you flicked down the visor of your helmet. Logan pulled on his jacket, climbing onto his bike without any protection. He smirked over to you, you blushed behind the darkness of your helmet.

Your whole body was vibrating in excitement when the group of bikes roared to life. There were at least 50 of you. It was too hard to count when the front of the group sped from the parking lot and out into the street.

Ethan replaced Logan’s spot on the side of you, keeping steady pace as you all began to race down the pavement. Logan followed shortly behind.

Passer-bys in their cars all gawked at the lot of you, heads swinging on a swivel as the singular headlights went by in a flash.

The group was picking up speed, going through main traffic until you took enough turns and ended up on an open paved backroad.

Evening was dwindling down, and the traffic was decreasing by the minute. This left the wide open pavement to the entire fleet of motorcycles to cruise in and out of the two lane road.

People were synced up to each others helmets, talking joyfully through about their lives while others shared music with each other in a collective jam session. You typically would enjoy far too loud music while riding, but you left your ears open to hear the herd of rumbling bikes race down the streets and to pick up on any important or urgent comms messages.

Logan managed to squeeze in between you and Ethan, his classic bike groaned and rumbled deeply as he yanked on his throttle in show. You laughed aloud at his ego display, looking between him and the road as he smiled brightly.

Logan leaned over as much as he could from the distance between you, sticking his hand out in invitation. You veered your bike closer to his, placing your hand in his open palm. He clasped his hand around yours, pulling your gloved knuckles up to place a soft kiss upon them. He squeezed your hand before sending you a wink and letting go.

You put your hand over the mouth of your helmet, tilting your head to mock grace at his chivalry. He threw his head back in a laugh, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

When you both quit giggling you watched Logan’s eyes flash dark with mischief. He scanned the area quickly, locating and calculating the closest bikers before he yanked down on his throttle.

His bike was absolutely screeching, hollering in a deep grumble as he pulled down harder and shifted gears. He was flying through the group, weaving in and out of everyone as he accelerated through them all.

You were almost shocked, watching him navigate the group with ease. You watched a few people flash back to you with confusion. You decided, why the hell not, and yanked down on your throttle just as hard.

The wind was whistling against you as you leaned down into the tank of your bike, feeling yourself accelerate even faster with the aerodynamics. It was a flash of headlights and rainbow colored modifications as you passed each biker swiftly in urge to catch up with Logan who was now coasting freely at the front of the group.

Your comms system was catching nearby voices, hearing them whisper in confusion or holler in excitement.

Logan was looking back as often as he could when he heard your bike accelerating behind him, a wide smile on his face when you finally caught up. You flipped up the visor of your helmet.

“You tryna race?” You yelled over to him.

He shook his head from side to side. “Not tonight doll, just wanted to show off a little.”

“Maybe next time?” You inquired with a smile, watching him roll his eyes playfully.

“Yeah, maybe next time.”

It was nearly 10 pm when you all returned back to the abandoned parking lot. Many of the bikers wished a good night as they broke up from the group to head home, the others followed back and were now parked in the meeting spot. Most were walking around in the light of the street lamps engaging in conversation or perusing the parked bikes in admiration.

You’d mainly went back to bid a goodnight to Ethan and then head home, to thank him for showing and for inspiring you to chase this particular fulfillment in your life.

It’s was hard to ever consider a time when you didn’t have a bike. From the moment you met Ethan and you began riding tandem with him, you were obsessed. The adrenaline, the quick feeling of flying through the open roads, the deep contentment that settled your soul and helped you sleep at night.

“Thanks again.” You confirmed to him, seeing his bright smile underneath his helmet. He held your shoulders kindly and his bright blue eyes shimmered down in pride.

“I’m proud of you. I hope you know that.”

You could have teared up at his endearment. Sometimes you wondered what it would have been like if this managed to work out with him.

“Thank you. Let’s plan another time to meet up, maybe without the other seven million people.”

Ethan nodded in confirmation with a laugh, pulling you in for one last tight hug before separating to head to his bike parked nearby.

He waved to the group and his friends as he drove away on his bike, peering out into the road before he filtered into the straying traffic and was gone in a flash.

Logan had still loomed by, leaning against his bike and finishing another cigar. You were ready to leave and head home, but felt compelled to talk to him.

“Thanks for the fun tonight. This was my first ever meet solo and you, uh, you just made it a lot better.” You stuck out your hand as a formality.

Logan reached out and shook it, his large hand wrapping around your gloved one like earlier.

“Thank you for playing along. Recklessness can get boring.”

You chuckled in response, nervously tucking your hand into your pocket and looking to the ground.

“Hey?” Logan asked, tentatively reaching for the bottom of your helmet. He tugged you closer, tilting your head up to look up at him.

“Let’s do this again, just you and I? Next week on Tuesday work?” He puffed a cloud of smoke out of the corner of his mouth.

You nodded wordlessly.

“Meet here? 10 am?”

You nodded again.

“Perfect. Good night, and get home safe doll.” He released his grip on your helmet, watching you stay frozen in shock. He stomped out his cigar like he did earlier, mounting his bike swiftly.

You watched in awe as he rumbled it to life. He sent a flirty wink before pulling up his own kickstand. Logan flew out of the parking lot and into the street.

“Oh fuck me.” You groaned, flicking down the visor of your helmet and mounting your own bike to head home.

#logan howlett fanfiction #logan x reader #logan wolverine #logan howlett #wolverine fanfiction #wolverine x reader #wolverine #motorcycle #street bike #motorbike

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waynes-multiverse · 3 months

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Polaris – Chapter 7

Series Summary: When Beau Arlen moved to Montana, he left behind a past he wasn’t proud of. But when a series of murders requires the FBI’s help, Sheriff Arlen‘s ghosts come back to haunt him one by one. With a wrong turn waiting at every crossroads, it’s hard to make the right choices and find his way back home – back to you.

Pairing: Beau Arlen x FBI Agent!Reader

Warnings: 18+, fluff, angst, serial killer, mentions of cartels, grief, smut

Word Count: 7.2k

A/N: The chapter where we find out why Ted is on Beau's punch list aka The One With Ted... 😂

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Tag List

Chapter 7: Storm Coming

May 2021

“I sold the house,” you said, your voice ripping through the quiet of the car during another starry stake-out night.

“So you’re homeless now?” Beau joked and peeled his eyes away from the front window view and glanced at you from the driver’s seat, his hand resting on the steering wheel, the other one in his lap.

You chuckled. “Yup, but I got a hot plate now in my motel room and one of those Italian moka pots. So, you know, some would say I’m living the dream.”

Beau snorted in amusement before he pensively rubbed his mouth with two fingers. “You didn’t have to sell the house, you know?”

You heaved a sigh. “Yeah, I kinda did, though… I didn’t like staying in there anymore. It’s just… too many memories, I guess? ‘Sides, I’m always down here anyways. Actually considering moving here.”

Beau frowned at you, his nose scrunching. “What, to Mexico? Are you nuts? Over my dead body are you doin’ that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know you had a say in it,” you retorted rather playfully and put a shocked palm on your chest in mock.

“Damn right, I do,” Beau scoffed his reply with a teasing grin. “Who do you think is lookin’ out for ya, huh?”

“Wait, you think you are? That’s what you believe?” You snorted a laugh, entering banter territory with him.

It was usually how you passed your time during most of these stake-outs – laughing, teasing, and the occasional talking about your problems. You’d never known Beau like this before. He was your husband’s best friend, but he had been more of an acquaintance to you. Now, after months of spending close to every day together, it felt like he was your best friend. Since Randy’s death, he’d been there for you, even if it was mostly out of guilt.

“Yeah, what d’you think?” Beau countered challengingly.

“Oh sweetie, you’re not looking after me. I’m looking after you,” you stated confidently. The smile that twitched on his lips seemed to actually agree with you. “Out of the two of us, you’re the way bigger wreck. Some would even think it’s your husband who died, not mine.”

“Are you calling me a girl?”

You coolly shrugged your shoulders. “Either I’m calling you a girl, or I’m calling you gay. I’ll let you pick.”

Laughingly, Beau scoffed and muttered, “You wish I was gay.”

However, you still heard his mumbled reply and responded, “Actually, I wish you were a girl and that I was gay.”

Beau stared at you and leaned back against the door for a better view of you, his brow raised and the corners of his lips drawn slightly upwards in amusement. “What are we even talking about?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted with a shake of your head.

The two of you then burst into loud laughter that filled the entire SUV. For a moment, all your sorrows and hardships seemed to be forgotten, carried away to the desert with the nightly breeze. Then, the familiar and comfortable quiet took over the car again.

“I’m moving out of the house, too,” Beau said, his eyes focusing on the barren landscape and desolate road ahead. “I’m giving it to Carla. I mean, she didn’t ask me to. God knows she can take care of herself… But I want Emily to keep living in the home she grew up in, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that. That’s really nice,” you said quietly. Your soft smile then morphed to a grin. “So you’re homeless, too, huh?”

Beau laughed, throwing his head back into the seat. “Yeah, guess I am. Maybe we should live together?” he suggested half-jokingly.

“Like roommates? Ugh, God no!” You scoffed in abhorrence. “We’re way too old for that. You’re over forty, I’m barely in my thirties–”

“You do know I know exactly how old you really are, right?” Beau teased.

You decided to ignore that jab and continued, unbothered. “It would be seriously so sad. The Widow And The Divorcee – sounds like the worst sitcom on the planet. ‘Sides, it’d be super awkward if one of us starts dating again.”

“Fine, maybe you’re right,” Beau relented with a soft chuckle and then glanced at you sideways. His heart gained speed in his chest. “You ever think about it? Dating? Gettin’ out there again? Been nine months.”

You twitched your shoulders, choosing not to look at him. “I don’t know. Is nine months long enough after your husband died?”

Thoughtfully, Beau licked his lips and let out a small sigh. “I don’t think there’s a timeline, or a right and wrong. I just think it’s one of those things that when you’re ready, you’re ready.”  “Well, consider me not ready then, I guess,” you replied honestly.

“Alright,” Beau accepted, bobbing his head. “But I still think you should try again at some point, you know? You shouldn’t be alone for the rest of your life. First of all, it’d be a total waste, ‘cause, I mean, look at you. And secondly, you’re barely in your thirties, after all,” he repeated your earlier joke with a soft grin.

You felt the heat creep to your cheeks in the moonlight. As you looked at him, you could see his smirk, making you laugh. “Noted,” you replied and were thankful for his pep talk. “I mean, there’ve been offers.”

Beau quirked one eyebrow, a hard lump forming in his throat as his chest tightened. “Offers? Like plural? Who?”

“Well, just some of the guys from our team. Cody, Jordan, Ted…” you named a few. “Also a few locals. Remember those guys we played pool with a few weeks ago? Two of ‘em asked for my number.”

“Huh. That is plural…” Beau pursed his lips and couldn’t keep his brow from wrinkling, his grip on the steering wheel stiffening. “Well, you know, when you’re not ready, you’re not ready. Shouldn’t force anything. No rush, darlin’.”

Smooth, Beau thought wryly with an internal sigh.

“Right, I know,” you agreed. “I do miss sex, though. Getting kinda bored of my vibrator.”

Beau choked on his spit. “Jesus…”

“What? Am I not allowed to talk about it? I thought we were friends. You’re supposed to care about my well-being and happiness,” you argued, frowning.

“I do care. Just… Can we please not talk about that?” he begged and exhaled a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his freckled nose.

“Fine. I miss having women around…” You shrugged and muttered, “Didn’t peg you for a prude.”

“Okay, let’s just get one thing straight – I’m not a prude,” he clarified in defense, his cheeks turning a deep shade of red.

“Alright, also noted,” you quipped, smirking to yourself. Sometimes you enjoyed making him a little uncomfortable. His blushed cheeks could be quite cute. “What about you? Have you still not talked to Carla? I’m sure you can win her back if you tried. You’re a lot better now.”

“Well, thank you for the, uh, vote of confidence, but it’s really over, I guess. We just talked about all the divorce proceedings last time. I actually think she started datin’ someone recently,” Beau told you.

Your eyebrows rose in surprise. “Really? Who?”

“I guess some rich tech guy. I don’t know…”

“And you’re good with that?” you questioned in disbelief.

Beau scoffed a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. “Ha, no… But what am I gonna do? Kinda shot myself in the leg with that one. I don’t blame her for moving on. It’s been over for months now.”

“That sucks. I’m sorry. I was kinda rooting for you two,” you admitted.

“Well, thanks, but we weren’t you and Randy,” Beau said. It made your brow knit.

“What d’you mean?”

“C’mon, you know what I mean,” Beau replied as if it were obvious, but you still shook your head. He sighed. “You and Randy would’ve never gotten divorced.”

“You don’t know that.” Honestly, you doubted it yourself, but you were too curious to find out what he meant by his statement.

“I do know that,” Beau insisted with certainty. “You guys had that once-in-a-lifetime kinda love. The kind that made other people jealous, you know? Your love made every other relationship pale in comparison. I always figured once the honeymoon phase was over, you’d settle and be less vomit-inducing, but that never happened. Me and Carla were never like that. Not even in the beginning,” he explained, a small, soft smile shaping his mouth. “You guys were special. True love. The stuff folk singers write cheesy songs about.”

“I guess we were,” you mused quietly, the memory of everything Randy was to you causing tears to well in your eyes.

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Beau apologized as soon as he noticed the sadness on your face. He reached his hand over to your side and squeezed your thigh gently, just above the knee.

“No, it’s alright,” you brushed him off, swallowing your heartache down. “But hey, if Carla wasn’t your once-in-a-lifetime, maybe she’s still out there. You just haven’t found her yet. I mean, that’s kinda a nice outlook, right?”

Licking his lips, he bobbed his head, his gaze focused on his hand on the steering wheel. “I doubt it.”

“Why? Never say never,” you said encouragingly.

“Well, maybe I already met her, and it’s too late now,” he replied. It sounded more like an actual fact than a hypothetical theory. You found yourself wondering.

“What, did you have like an old college flame? The one that got away?” you teased lightheartedly, but he only grew more serious.

“Somethin’ like that,” he replied vaguely, rubbing his mouth with his fingers.

“Look her up on Facebook. Maybe she’s divorced, too. You could reconnect or something,” you suggested. He nodded but didn’t seem too convinced. You then shot him a hesitant glance from your periphery. “So, now that Carla’s moving on, are you gonna start dating now, too? Jump back into the game?”

“I guess so… Why?” A part of him was curious to hear your response, while another part reminded him that his desired answer was only wishful thinking – and completely insane on top of that.

“That fiery brunette lady at the bar last night seemed really interested in you. Maybe you should hook up with her if she’s there again tomorrow night?” you proposed in earnest.

Wide-eyed, Beau blinked at you in incredulity – like you had lost your goddamn mind. “I’m sorry, what?! Hook up? Who are you right now? Are you tryin’ to set me up?”

“Yeah.” You shrugged simply, not seeing what the big problem was. “Don’t look at me like I’m trying to convince you to get a tramp stamp above your ass with a dirty needle. I’m just trying to be a good wingman… woman. Randy would’ve tried to set you up, right?”

Beau sighed frustratedly. “Yeah, he would’ve,” he admitted in a grumble and then barked, slightly more furious, “But you ain’t him. And I don’t want you to be, so stop it, alright?”

“Geez, I’m sorry. I was just trying to help,” you mumbled defensively and raised your hands in surrender, unsuccessfully hiding your upset over his reaction. He felt guilty when he saw the small pout on your face.

Beau rubbed his forehead before dragging his palm over the rest of his face. “I know. I’m sorry, too,” he said and let out a deep breath through his nose. “I just-… I guess I’m just waiting, okay?”

“Waiting for what?”

Beau squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. For you to be ready, he wanted to say. But he couldn’t very well do that now, could he?

“For Christ’s sake, Y/N…” he breathed exhaustively. That was all he managed to say. With his palm on his mouth, he rested his elbow against the car door, gazing out the window.

“Why are you so upset?” you asked, your brow woven with confusion.

“Switch subjects,” he requested.

It was a phrase the two of you used whenever you didn’t want to talk about something anymore. When someone pushed too much, or the topic got too emotional and you needed a break. The only rule was to always respect the request, so you had no choice but to let it go after that.

“The Texans game sucked last night, huh?”

That elicited a snort from him, and he looked at you with a warm smile. “Yeah, goddamn awful.”

“How many times are you gonna watch those?”

Beau’s question broke your concentration. Your gaze snapped from your laptop screen to his concerned face. You’d been rewatching the victims’ videos for four days straight now, trying to find more clues. Maybe even something that directly led to Diane.

“I keep thinking maybe I’ve missed something,” you mumbled and stared back into the computer, your teeth gnawing on the pen between your lips. “It’s 48 hours each. We have twenty-four victims. I keep watching them sped-up to get through them all, but maybe I should slow ‘em down. I mean, I’ve watched them full-length, normal speed a couple of times before, but maybe I should watch ‘em even slower and really focus, you know? There’s gotta be something there…”

Bobbing his head worriedly, Beau pursed his lips and took a scan of your desk. He counted eight empty cups of coffee and five cans of energy drinks. There were bags under your red eyes and your hands were jittering. He knew you hadn’t slept a lot. He tried to hold you in his arms, but as soon as he dozed off, you snuck out and went back to work.

Beau shut the laptop. “You’re cut off.”

“Hey!”

“Y/N, you need to sleep. Just look at you, darlin’. This obsession isn’t healthy. I’m taking you home,” he declared sternly, ignoring your protests. You were pretty sure he had used his dad voice, too.

“I need that woman in prison, Beau.”

“You startin’ to sound like Jenny…” Beau quipped under his breath.

“We’re running out of time. There’s only one day left before the next victim drops,” you stated and tried your best to keep your voice steady as it broke off towards the end.

“I know.” Beau clasped your shoulder and squeezed gently. “And we’ll get her. I promise you. But you’re no good to any of us if you’re exhausted and losing it right now.” You nodded and rose from your chair. He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you flush against him, kissing the top of your head affectionately. “How about some dinner, huh?”

You grinned warmly. “What, like a second date?”

“Exactly like a second date,” Beau said and mirrored your grin. He was making up for lost time as best as he could, even if it meant taking you out every night for the rest of your life.

Your phone buzzed on the table, your brow quirking at the number. Eagerly, you picked up and wound yourself out of Beau’s embrace. “Special Agent Y/L/N… Uh-huh… Great, thank you.”

Beau pursed his lips. “We’re not going out, are we?”

“‘fraid not, Sheriff.” You shook your head and chuckled at his groan. “That was IT. They’re finally done and sending over the IP addresses.”

“Alright, guess I’m gettin’ take out,” Beau announced with a small sigh, knowing the two of you were in for a long night – and not the one he had planned.

You smiled and pecked his lips. “Thank you.”

August 2020

Beau’s heart thudded frantically in his chest as his knuckles tapped your front door in the early evening. The sky was a color spectacle full of azures, indigos, and apricots as the summer sun slowly set. His boots only stood on that same spot not even twenty-four hours ago. It still felt like a surreal nightmare he couldn’t escape, his hope to wake up soon a ceaseless prayer.

He’d stayed with you all night, held you as you cried yourself to sleep. Beau awoke on your couch with your head resting on his thigh and a strange feeling in his gut. He couldn’t help but think you were beautiful, even in a state of utter turmoil, shoving said thought swiftly down into the depths of his darkening soul.

But he’d spent all day thinking of you, plagued by guilt and torn by misplaced feelings. He’d sat through hours of interviews, going over and over the events of last night till his mind spun like a hamster wheel. He was forced to fill out forms, sign documents, and recount each unforgettable step. He’d listened to lectures, sermons, and admonitions. His captain gave him a tongue-lashing that sounded like mere white noise before he was sent home with a suspension – investigation pending.

Only he didn’t go home; he came here.

At home, his wife and daughter were waiting – for a husband, a father, an explanation. None of which he could provide. Beau wanted to wallow in his grief, his guilt, his loss in peace. He lacked the strength to be strong, play pretend, and act above it all. He wanted to be punished, sent to perdition, and held accountable for his lapse of judgment. A suspension wasn’t good enough. It barely patched the abysmal gaps in his heart.

The only suitable punishment was you. Witnessing your suffering was his personally crafted hell. You were the broken remnants of his destruction, the shattered pieces of his idiocy, the explosive fallout of his arrogance.

And you hadn’t answered a single call or text of his. His torturous worry was part of his penalty.

Consecutive rings of the doorbell and incessant knocks remained unanswered. For a moment, Beau rested his forehead on the door. He felt helpless and clueless all the same. You had friends and family to take care of you, probably better suited and closer to you than him, but somehow he felt burdened with the responsibility.

He took the spare key out of the left-side planter and barged inside. The ground floor was deserted. Last night’s uneaten dinner still sat untouched on the table. It felt like a whiplash against his bare back.

Bolting upstairs, he found the door to the main bedroom ajar. He pried it open slowly, the sight of you delivering his second lashing. This time, he felt the sting burning through to his heart.

He found you curled up in bed, on your husband’s side, in your husband’s t-shirt, with your wedding photo album clutched tightly in your arms. His breath halted for a moment; his heart did, too.

Did he do this? Was this all his fault?

“Y/N?” His deep voice was quiet and careful as he spoke. Slowly, he walked over to your side and knelt down in front of you. “Darlin’, hey… You need to get up. Eat somethin’.”

Beau was sure you hadn’t moved all day. He didn’t ask you if you were alright or how you were doing. The question seemed insulting. The answer was obvious. Your phone was lighting up on the nightstand with a million unanswered calls and messages, his own among them. Your beautiful eyes were vacant, red, and empty. You didn’t cry, however, not anymore. You were dehydrated and all out of tears at this point. You never looked at him, not even a glance.

“I want him back,” you whispered, your voice coarse from screaming, crying, cursing.

Beau nodded, licking his lips. Caringly, he caressed your head, brushing a few strands of messy hair out of your face. “I know. I hope you know I’d trade places with him in a heartbeat if I could.”

For the first time your eyes found his. Your gaze was scathing and piercing. “Tell me what happened.”

Beau let out a harrowing sigh. He had rehashed the story all day long. He wasn’t sure if he could do it again, but maybe this version was the most important one. Who deserved the truth more than you?

“Y/N, I don’t think this is such a good idea, darlin’,” Beau tried to reason, mostly for himself. He wanted to hold on a little longer, the idea of you hating him tearing him apart. He wanted to spare himself the additional guilt, the anger, the hurt.

“Tell me or leave.”

Beau closed his eyes and nodded hesitantly. “Okay, alright.” He took a deep breath and settled down on the floor, leaning his back against the wooden bedside table. “We were closing in on that biker gang. Few murders, arms trafficking, drug deals… You know the drill. I’m sure Ra-… he filled you in.”

Not that long ago, Randy had asked you for advise on the case. You gave him your contacts in the DEA and a number to a CI.

“Your DEA guy warned us. Said the gang was working closely with the cartel down in Juárez. But I had my own intel that only a few members were meeting at the Hatcher warehouse in MacGregor. It was supposed to be a small deal. But I figured it could lead to bigger things if we shook ‘em down, you know? But fuckin’ Harper told us no like usual. Refused to give us back-up. Said to pass the case on to the DEA. But Randy and I worked our asses off the last few months to get even this far. We were so close. I didn’t wanna let go… So, I suggested we go in anyways. It was supposed to be only three guys from the gang. I knew if we were smart about it, we could easily take ‘em down, you know?”

You rolled onto your back and propped yourself up on the bed. Shaking your head, you chuckled humorlessly and grabbed the half-empty whiskey bottle from the nightstand. “‘Course you did. It’s not the first time you broke a rule or shit on authority.”

“Yeah, and I was right every single time,” Beau bit. His anger wasn’t geared at you but at himself. He knew he was in the wrong. He flew too close to the sun and got burned. But he still felt the need to defend himself, even if it was unjustified.

His gaze drifted to the dresser and the patch of wall above it, decorated with photographic evidence of yours and his partner’s life together. The wedding, dates, vacations, holidays – it was all there. Beau had watched it all, start to finish. He wished he could rewind the tape and cut off the ending, all so you could have the love of your life back. He didn’t know yet your cassette had a B-side. One that featured him.

“You got fucking lucky, is all,” you scoffed.

“Randy backed me up on it!”

“Of course he did! You’re his fucking partner! He would’ve followed you anywhere if you asked him to,” you snapped, shaking your head. You gulped down some whiskey then and locked your jaw before you met his eyes again with a glare. “And? What happened then, Beau? Was it only three guys?”

“No.” The word was almost inaudible. He shook his head with a harsh swallow. “They were meetin’ with a few cartel members there. My intel never said anything about that. When we were inside and saw what was really going on, it was already too late to get out. They made us, bullets started flyin’… They got a hold of Randy and… shot him.” A tear escaped down his cheek, his throat closing as he tried to choke out the last bit of the story. “I had to leave him there. I barely got out myself. I’m sorry, Y/N. I know this is on me.”

Your lips twitched with a bitter smile. You didn’t look at him, just rubbed your tired eyes. “Damn right it is. Get out.”

“Y/N, please–”

The storm in your eyes made him stop as you met his gaze, his useless apologies becoming stuck in his throat. “I said, get out. I ain’t asking a third time. You’re the reason my husband is dead. You’re the reason I don’t even have a body to bury. So, get the fuck out.” Like a snakebite, your words were targeted, sharp, and venomous.

You finally got out of bed and prodded towards the en-suite bathroom. The truth had been what you needed to switch the fighter inside of you back on. You knew what you wanted to do then and were determined to get it.

“Y/N–”

“Do you know what cartels do to bodies, Beau? To rivals? To law enforcement? ‘Cause I just came back from a job where we found forty-eight decapitated bodies, left to rot inside the walls of a house. Still haven’t found the heads yet. Probably never will,” you told him and stared him dead into his dark green eyes. “Ever seen that before, desperado?”

Beau bit his lips, averting his gaze. “No.”

“Yeah, didn’t think so.” You scoffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “Now, leave. Please. Get the fuck outta my house. I don’t wanna see you anymore,” you spat and slammed the bathroom door shut behind you.

Beau then grabbed the whiskey bottle you’d left and walked out of your home. It was the first of many nights he started to drink himself to sleep, but at least it kept the nightmares temporarily at bay.

“Theodore.” Beau forced a bright smile onto his freckle-dusted face, although the stiff features could barely fool anyone. At least, they wouldn’t have fooled you.

“Beau, good to see you again.” Ted smiled and did a more convincing job of it as he waltzed into Lewis and Clark County’s Sheriff’s Department. It almost seemed like he meant it. “I was surprised when Y/N told me you got a gig as a sheriff here.”

Translation: I was surprised because you were such a fuck-up back in Texas.

Beau feigned a chuckle. “Yeah, I bet you were.”

“Hopefully, you’re givin’ the DAs here less headaches,” Ted jabbed under the disguise of friendly banter. He then turned to Jenny with that same shit-eating grin. “Your sheriff is a little troublemaker.”

Sweet Lord, Beau wanted to whack the bastard.

The blonde deputy coolly brushed the accusation off. She shrugged and playfully nudged Beau’s arm, sending the Texan attorney a smile. “I prefer him that way.”

“Hey, there she is!” Beau smiled with frazzled relief when you finally hurried into the station. A little while longer, and he definitely would’ve thrown a punch.

“Hey, Ted. Thanks for coming. How was your flight?” You greeted him with a warm smile and a quick hug.

“Good, good. Never been to Montana before,” Ted said and then let his eyes wander up and down your body. “Look at you. You look great!”

“Oh, uh, thanks.” You subtly cleared your throat. You could physically feel Beau stiffen next to you. In your periphery, you could spy a tightly clenched jaw and a few strained muscles in his neck.

“Mind if Y/N and I borrow your office, Sheriff Arlen?” Ted asked and emphasized his title. “Considering the nature of this case, I’d like to keep it as private as possible. Don’t want anything to reach Ms. Newton’s ears.”

Your hunch had been right. Several IP addresses pointed to Diane, some to public Wi-Fi’s. You and the team still needed to connect her to the other states and find out where she’d been staying there, but you could definitely trace some posts in recent weeks to her home in Montana. It was enough for an arrest warrant, but you still needed more evidence.

Additionally, it had all come together a little too easily. It seemed like a giant trap you were walking into. Diane wanted to be caught. But why?

“Why don’t I just join you? I’m sure Y/N here doesn’t mind,” Beau suggested with a tight smile and then snaked his arm around your middle, pulling you closer. “Ain’t that right, darlin’?”

Internally, you sighed a little at his obvious territorial pissing, but you were willing to throw him a bone. You stretched up and claimed his plump lips in a fervent kiss that Beau only all too happily reciprocated.

“Not at all, Sheriff. You know I always appreciate your input,” you replied with a dirty smirk at the double entendre.

As Beau looked down at you, he mouthed ‘God, I love you.’ You grinned in response.

“Happy to give it to you,” he said with another sweet peck of your lips. A triumphant and slightly cocky grin graced his lips as he looked back at Ted.

“Oh, so you two are back together?” Ted realized, his brow rising to his hairline. He’d never seen you two together but certainly had heard the whispers down in Mexico from your old task force. He’d been the DA for those cases as well. You’d never explicitly told him about you and Beau, though, even when he had tried to pry a little on those dates you went on.

“Well, I’m a hard one to quit,” Beau quipped almost proudly, like a peacock showing off his fan of feathers.

“As are cigarettes and many other vices,” Ted shot back with the same stupidly proud grin.

Translation: You’re an ass. And a failure. She deserves so much better. I’m ‘better.’ But maybe that didn't need a translation.

Beau should’ve known it was hard to out-argue a lawyer and ground his jaw. After all, he’d been married to one for many years.

You, on the other hand, shared a wide-eyed and baffled look with Jenny that bordered on amusement. You had almost gasped in shock. You hadn’t expected such a fiery reply, sure the men would stick to their Southern manners. But, oh well, everyone’s packing in fucking Texas…

“Why don’t you two go ahead? I’ll join you in a minute,” you ordered more than you earnestly proposed and shooed the two men down the hallway towards Beau’s office.

“Sure it’s such a good idea to lock those two in a room alone?” Jenny teased, her eyes lingering a little too long on Ted’s perfectly formed ass as he sauntered down the hall.

You couldn’t blame her. You had checked out Beau’s in the same breath.

“It’s only for a short time. They’re not gonna kill each other,” you laughed it off. Jenny arched a doubtful eyebrow at you. “That quickly,” you added a correction. “So, what did I miss here?” you asked and nodded towards the two men, closing the door to Beau’s office behind them. All you heard last was them talking about the recent Texans game.

Ugh, of course, they’d end up by football…

“Dick measuring contest,” Jenny supplied wryly.

“Ah, figured…”

“Well, better them than to lock Agent Y/L/N and the sheriff into the same room,” Poppernak joked with a soft chuckle as he appeared next to you and Jenny, chiming into the conversation.

You gaped at him in mock-shock. “Mo! I can’t believe you just said that,” you chided playfully.

His cheeks turned crimson red. “I’m sorry, Special Agent Y/L/N,” he apologized in a fluster.

“Mo, I told you to call me by my first name,” you reminded him with a smile. “Or I’m gonna have to start giving you silly names like Beau does.”

“Oh, I love Sheriff Arlen’s nicknames,” he quickly defended with a nervous laugh.

“Do you?” Jenny tilted her head with a questioning eyebrow.

He shrugged. “They’re clever.”

August 2020

“Old Fashioned,” you ordered with a look at the bartender, feeling Beau’s confused eyes and crinkled brow wander up to you. “Couldn’t have picked a nicer bar, huh? This place is a dump. You know that, right?”

Beau clicked his tongue and took a sip from his Ranch Water. “What are you doing here? Thought you never wanted to see me again.”

You let out a small sigh but didn’t meet his gaze. “Carla called me. Your family is worried about you.”

“I didn’t tell her where I was. How did you know I was here?”

“I didn’t. Carla said you haven’t been home in three days. Figured you’d gone on a bender. This is the fifth cop bar I checked out. Finally got lucky,” you said and thanked the bartender as he placed his drink in front of you. You settled down on a barstool next to Beau.

“Quite the effort. Sure I’m worth it?”

Your tongue swept over your lips. “Beau, look at me.” His forest-green eyes found yours upon your soft plea. “I’m sorry I put all that shit on you. It wasn’t fair. It’s not your fault, okay? His death isn’t on you. I know you loved him like a brother.”

“I did.” Beau took another sip of his drink. “But it is my fault. I was reckless and arrogant. We both know it.”

“It was a set-up, alright? I talked to my DEA contact. Cody said your intel was wrong. They knew you and Randy were closing in on them. They wanted to get rid of you,” you explained.

Beau smacked his lips. “I still shoulda known better. I should’ve seen it was a trap.”

“Maybe,” you admitted. You couldn’t say you would’ve done the same thing, but you knew Beau would’ve never purposely put Randy in danger if he had even the faintest idea. “But it could’ve happened to anybody. This was bigger than you knew.”

“It wouldn’t have happened to you,” he stated quietly. You couldn’t argue with that. You were more by-the-book than he was. You would’ve never gone against a superior’s order. You would’ve respected it.

“Look, just go home. Talk to your wife. Get some help,” you said. “You missed your suspension hearing, but I spoke on your behalf. Told them it wasn’t your fault. The DEA backed me. Harper’s gonna reinstate you. Just come back as soon as you’re ready.”

Beau nodded slowly. Even if he didn’t say it, you could tell he was thankful for your efforts. “I can’t go home.”

Your brow furrowed. “Why? I’m sure Carla will understand. You need to talk to someone about this. Go to therapy – and not the alcoholic kind. Losing a partner is not something you get over quickly. You need people in your corner, including your wife.”

“You mean the wife that lets criminals out on the street?” Beau’s gaze was focused on the glass in his hands. The wrinkles on your brow deepened. “The guy that shot him… Carla’s his defense attorney. Was, at least. He was supposed to do time, but two months ago, she got him paroled.” With a dark chuckle, he emptied his glass.

“Beau…” You knew he had always struggled with Carla’s job, making you sometimes wonder about their dinner conversations at home. “It ain’t her fault more than it is yours. She’s just doing her job. You know that. You’ve been together for so long, you’d think you’re used to it by now.”

Beau scoffed a chuckle and gestured to the bartender for a refill. “I was a young cop back then. Wasn’t on the job as long. I didn’t know it would bother me so much. Still lived in that hopeful bubble, I guess.”

You smiled knowingly. “You mean the ‘I didn’t think I’d see as much shit and injustice as I do now’ bubble?”

He snickered softly. “Yep, that one. Just didn’t think it’d be this hard, you know?”

“I get it. I mean, me and Carla butt heads all the time over this stuff. But we do it in a competitive fun way and then get drunk,” you said with a light chuckle. “Guess it’s different when you’re married, though, huh?”

“Yeah, it is…” he sighed.

“Still, go home. Talk to her,” you encouraged but could see your words of wisdom fell on deaf ears. “By the way, the funeral’s on Saturday.”

He turned his gaze away from his glass and found your eyes. “You need any help with that?”

“Maybe you can give a eulogy. You knew him best. I think he would’ve really liked that,” you said with a warm smile. No matter your own feelings, you knew deep down Randy would’ve wanted you to forgive his partner.

“Yeah, I can do that. Anything you need, okay?” Beau clasped your hand that laid on the bar counter and squeezed reassuringly before dropping it again.

You smiled appreciatively and teased, “Maybe show up sober. Or at least close-to.”

Beau chuckled a little. “I promise.”

You stood up from your seat then and put some cash for your drink on the counter. “Alright, I’m heading home. You need me to call you a cab?”

“Nah, I’m good. I’m just gonna finish this drink, then I’ll head out, too,” he said.

“You sure? Don’t make me come back here,” you threatened playfully.

Beau laughed softly. “I won’t. Thanks for everything, Y/N. I mean it.”

You sent him a smile and gave his shoulder a squeeze on your way out. “You’re welcome. Get home safe, okay?”

However, Beau couldn’t keep any of his promises. He made it home after three more drinks and woke up on the front lawn of his house. Carla wasn’t happy when she found him in the morning as she brought Emily to school. But Beau couldn’t stop. Every time he closed his eyes, the tragic events flashed before him like a horror movie, witnessing Randy’s death in a never-ending loop. He kept seeing his partner get dragged away, heard the shot over and over again like a rain of bullets without a ceasefire.

The guilt was eating him alive. The guilt of getting his partner into this mess in the first place. Of leaving him behind. Of surviving and coming out alive when he didn’t deserve to.

So, Beau kept drinking to forget, even though he knew it was a futile endeavor. The memory would never fade, but at least it was blurred.

Your heavy breaths echoed through the small trailer. His mouth moved down the column of your throat, leaving a wet path of ravenous love bites in its wake.

“Fuck, baby,” you moaned wantonly, his grip on your flesh punishing as he kept you pressed flush against him while he devoured you on the little dining table. Your ass sat on the wooden surface, your crossed ankles locked tightly behind his muscular back.

“God, you made me so happy today,” he growled against the shell of your ear, his rising length rubbing against your core through layers of denim.

“I can see that.” You giggled, your hands dangling in his hair. “There’s no need to hate him so much, you know?”

“Says you,” Beau quipped and unzipped your jeans, eagerly pulling them off you as his mouth sucked your clavicle purple and blue. “That slimy coyote always had it out for me.”

Beau removed your panties as well, tossing them behind his shoulder where they landed in the kitchen sink. “Whoops.” He grinned charmingly but was unstoppable, freeing his throbbing dick as he shoved his jeans and boxers barely over his ass. He didn’t bother to slip out of them all the way, too impatient to wait any longer to enter you.

“Still, I’m already yours. I’ve always been yours,” you said and braced yourself on his broad shoulders as one large hand on your back pulled you closer to the edge of the table. His other hand grabbed his cock, twisting his fist along the hard, long shaft a few times before he glided his cockhead through your slick folds.

“Not always.” With one harsh thrust, he pushed inside you, your tight walls fighting to make room for him and adjust to his stretch.

You gasped at the pleasurable burn that coursed through your body and ignited every sizzling nerve. He dropped his head to your shoulder, giving both of you some time to get used to each other. You could tell you were in for a wilder ride tonight. You always loved when he fucked you rough and hard. There was something raw and animalistic about the need in his hypnotizing green eyes.

Beau then claimed your lips with one fervent kiss, enough of a spark to cause a wildfire. He met your gaze, hands gingerly cupping your cheeks. “But I love that you’re mine now. And I’m sure as hell gonna make you mine tonight, darlin’.”

You crashed your lips against his, your kisses frenzied and untamed as his hips began to slam into you. His pounds into your pussy were relentless as you swallowed every inch of him. You gripped him tight, already feeling your first orgasm bloom. It accumulated like dark, violent storm clouds on the horizon, forecasting roaring thunder and heavy rainfall.

“Oh God! Fuck, baby!” You screamed as your climax tore through you like a hurricane, your cunt gushing on his cock and pulsing around him. Your nails dug into his shoulder blades and scratched down his back as you came undone.

Beau groaned into your ear, squeezing his eyes shut as he barely held on himself. But he didn’t let up and kept up his furious pace, not ready to stop yet. “Shit, keep doing that. You’re so fucking tight, Y/N,” he grunted against your skin, your sensitive flesh barely withstanding his ruthless pumps. “Want you to come again, darlin’.”

With his declaration, his hand slipped between your sweat-clad bodies. You came close to losing your mind as he thumbed furiously at your clit, the stars already starting to twinkle in front of your eyes. You could feel yourself get shoved to the edge once more, staring down the steep cliffs of white-hot ecstasy.

Your mind was consumed by need, his grip on your hips bruising as you exploded. You cried out raucously, your whole body quaking in his hold upon your eruption, the aftershocks so powerful they could cause cracks in your bones.

Beau spilled his seed deep inside of you, his body stuttering in rhythm with yours as your earthquake took him down with you. Hazy gazes met each other with lazy smiles as ragged breaths mingled.

“Fuck, that was good. I think that one might make it into our Top Ten.” Beau chuckled gravelly and placed a gentle kiss on your temple.

“Hmm, not sure. We have a few greatest hits.” You giggled and bit down on your lower lip with a mischievous twinkle in your eyes. “Can I tell you something?”

Beau cupped your cheeks, thumbs caressing the heated and rosy skin as he lifted your gaze. “Anything.”

“Just between us, you’re the best lover I ever had,” you confessed with a wide grin. The corners of his mouth rose to match yours.

“Well, between us, I’ve never loved anyone like I love you. You’re it, darlin’. You know that, right? You’re the love of my life,” Beau revealed, making you smile brighter than you ever had before.

“I’m not sure about the sex, but this moment, right here, is probably gonna make it into the Top Ten,” you said softly as a few tears stung your eyes.

“Good.” Beau smiled and pecked your forehead.

The buzzing of a phone shifted your attention. You recognized it as yours, and Beau was quick to retrieve it from your jeans pocket in the pile of clothes on the floor.

“It’s Jenny,” you told him before picking up. “Hello… What?! Uh-huh, we’ll be right there.”

Beau’s brow furrowed as he watched your features flicker through an array of emotions. “Bad news?”

“Uhm, honestly, I don’t know,” you said and swallowed some of your confusion down, gathering your thoughts. “Jenny said Diane just walked into the station and gave herself up. She is ready to confess but only wants to talk to us.”

“Us? As in us two?” Beau’s eyes narrowed. You nodded. “Well, that doesn’t sound fishy at all,” he commented wryly.

“Yup, I don’t like it.”

Chapter 8: Chemical Bonds – JUNE 26

A lot of revelations and foreboding in this one... 👀 Also, I just love having Beau say the word "coyotes" for some reason 😂

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pumpkinologists · 1 year

Text

Haircut

Spencer Reid x F!Reader

Summary: You help Spencer pick out his new haircut

Warnings: None

Enjoy!

"Should I get a haircut?" It was the first thing said to you when Spencer walked in the door. "I'm really thinking I should go shorter. Also, strands are always falling in my face when I'm trying to work; it's honestly annoying." Before he could get another sentence out, you cut him off. "Spence, slow down." You watched as his hands fell, and a shy smile appeared on his face. "Sorry."

Your face was screwed up in thought, taking in what he had said. "What kind of style?" you asked, trying to picture Spencer with anything other than the longer hair he currently had. "Hmm," his eyes moved pensively to the side, "Would you help me decide? I'm really not that fantastic at styles," he chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck as blush spread across his cheeks.

With a smile on your face, you nodded, "I can help." At that point, he quickly set down his shoulder bag and started to dig through it for something. Finally, he pulled out a magazine and said, "I got this from the store. It's a catalog of different hairstyles that suit different face shapes, eye shapes, and body shapes, and yeah," he held it up by his eager-looking face.

Nodding, you gestured your hand to the couch, saying, "This might take a little while; let's go sit." He nodded and followed you to the couch, sitting down beside you. "Okay, so," he started right away, leaving no time to spare, "I was skimming through it and it said something about face shape being the main deciding factor." He paused and squinted at the page he had flipped too. "I'm really not sure which I am though." He pouted his lips in thought, jutting out his bottom lip and puffing his cheeks slightly.

"Let me help," you grinned as he looked at you like you were a genius. He handed you the magazine and pointed to where the demonstration of face shapes was. You thought for a second, looking at the models and labels, then looking back at Spencer's face, comparing them. None of them quite looked correct until you got to one that looked similar: "Diamond? Maybe?" You held the page up to his face and leaned forward, trying to get a closer look.

You shook your head, "That's not right." Tapping your chin in thought, you brought the magazine back down onto your lap and inspected it again. It still wasn't right. Just as your eyes skimmed over the page one more time, about ready to give up, you saw one that was perfect: "Square!" Your eyes went wide with joy. "Jeez, how could I have missed that? It's almost identical." You muttered with a small frown.

Spencer nodded as he looked at the model that was labeled 'square'. He nodded his head in approval, saying, "I was stuck in between square and diamond myself, and now that you mention it, it is pretty similar to my face."

Still grinning, you adjusted yourself, leaning in to look at the pages Spencer was flipping through. "So, these are the haircuts that are supposed to suit my face shape, then," he murmured. You moved over closer to him, touching your thigh to his. "Here." You patted the space where both of your thighs met. Without looking up, he gave you the other end of the magazine to hold while it rested between you both.

Slouching down to the page, you saw a hairstyle that caught your eye. "What about this one?" A hum of thought came from Spencer; he shook his head and said, "It’s too short; I still want some length." You nodded at his request and flipped the page once you were sure that he was done looking. Come to find out most hairstyles suit Spencer’s face shape, so it was rather difficult to choose.

A sigh left your lips after Spencer said no to yet another hairstyle you suggested. "You’re picky." You frowned. "I’m just not so sure what I want," he said, sounding a little annoyed. You shrugged, rolling your eyes. You had nowhere to be, and it wasn’t like you weren’t going to spend all night with him anyway. Rubbing your temples, you tried to sound as reassuring as possible: "I’ve got all night, Spence; take your time."

You both sat there for another solid ten minutes. Somewhere in that time period, you opted to lay back against the couch, your legs splayed across Spencer’s lap. He just kept flipping back and forth through the same pages. "Are you comparing?" you yawned. He bobbed his head lightly. "Let me see," you asked, reaching for the magazine. He took one last look before giving it to you. "Numbers twenty-one and seven," he said, answering the question you didn’t even ask.

Spencer’s eyes watched your reactions carefully. He tapped your shins rhythmically, squinting at your expression. You looked between the models and Spencer and then back again. Hmm," he was right; it was a hard decision. It was between a shaggy style that looks like a member of One Direction would sport and a smart-looking style that was longer at the top and back, with hair slicked back at the sides.

"Seven," you decided on the one direction looking one, liking the length. You handed the catalog back to Spencer, who was now nodding his head in agreement: "Sevens good." You smiled triumphantly and sat up. "That took longer than I thought," you stretched, yawning once again. He agreed, setting the magazine on the coffee table with a light smack.

You slouched over, sitting at the edge of the couch. "I don’t know about you, but that drained me." It was your way of saying, Let’s go to bed, and Spencer agreed. He stood up from the couch and stretched his arms above his head with a small groan. "I’ll go tomorrow; I have the day off." You smiled sleepily. "Send me a picture when it’s done."

In the comfortable silence that followed, there seemed to be a mutual agreement. Spencer held his hand out to help you up from the couch. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and he gently gripped your waist. Making eye contact, you smiled at each other softly. "I’m sure your gorgeous head would look good with any haircut, but," you gave his lips a quick peck, "Right now I’m tired of thinking of hair, so let’s go to bed."

#fluff #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds

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icyharrington · 2 years

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would there be any way for you to write a scenario where //plus size reader// is tutoring eddie in algebra and he asks you what you want out of it, so you ask him to tutor you in giving blowjobs because you’ve never done it and he’s taken aback,,, nsfw, lots of praise, gentle eddie pls 🥺💛

haiii okay so! i have another plus size request in my inbox rn so i decided to just make this one for anybody! so yea im sorry about that also eddie's a SMIDDGEEEE rough in this (not super rough tho, like just a tiny bit of hair pulling and pushing ur head down to deepthroat) cuz i forgot that you asked for gentle eddie but he's still pretty soft in this. so yea this took me ridiculously long to write for no reason so i hope y'all like it lmfaooo

contains: blowjobs, deepthroating, inexperienced reader, praise kink, soft dom eddie, dirty talk, hair pulling

wc: 3.3k

“I’m sorry, I just don’t see the point in any of this,” Eddie says, after a several-minute-long period of silent staring at the math textbook that sits in between you. You’re sitting on the cluttered carpeting of his bedroom, with both of your backs propped up against the side of his bed. “Where the hell are all these letters coming from? It’s like they’re purposely trying to make this as confusing as possible.”

You shake your head, leaning over to take a closer look at the text. “The letters are just placeholders for other numbers. You have to solve the equation to find out what they are.”

“What am I, Sherlock Holmes?!” he exclaims, throwing his hands up in an exaggerated show of defeat. Eddie’s a smart guy, but math is certainly not one of his strong suits, which is why you’re here in the first place to tutor him. You’re not exactly a math genius yourself, but you’ve been managing to pull B’s and A’s all semester in algebra, and with Eddie assigned to the seat right next to yours, it didn’t take very long for him to catch on.

He’d started out copying your answers during tests, attempting to come off as inconspicuous despite him breathing down your neck to get a glimpse at your work. When you finally called him out for it, he’d been apologetic and somewhat embarrassed, which made you feel sorry for him; wanting to help, it was then that you offered to give him a few free tutoring sessions.

Eddie brings his knees up and settles his elbows against them, the heels of his palms pressing into his forehead in exasperation. “Honestly, (y/n), thank you for offering to tutor me, but I think I’m a lost cause.”

“You’re not a lost cause, Eddie. You just need to study more,” you say, reaching out to place a hand on his denim-clad shoulder. “I bet if we do a couple more sessions you’ll be able to land a C on next week’s test.”

Eddie peeks at you from between his hands, the yellow overhead light reflecting brightly in the dark roundness of his eyes. “No way. You’re not giving me any more free tutoring sessions.”

“I don’t mind helping you, Eddie,” you say, patting him where your hand still lays. And it’s true- while he might be difficult to teach, he’s still a good-natured, funny guy, and you’ve grown to enjoy his company. In fact, you’ve even began to detect the faintest hint of a crush in the pit of your stomach, having been charmed by his smile and laugh and general mischievous demeanor. With Eddie being Eddie, though, it’s almost impossible to tell if he feels the same way, since he’s always putting on a show, never allowing his true emotions to show through his theatrical exterior. “I like hanging out with you.”

“Really? I kind of just assumed you found me annoying,” he grins, dropping his large hands to settle them atop his slender thighs. “But still- I’m not going to milk your generosity any more than I already have. I might be poor, but I’m not a fuckin’ bum.”

“Well, maybe you can just do me a favor or something?” You scratch your chin pensively, racking your brain for something you could ask Eddie to do for you. What could a guy like Eddie Munson do for you, anyway?

“What kind of a favor?” Eddie questions, apparently just as perplexed as you are, his head cocking to one side. “Man, I wish there was something I could tutor you in, but, uh, I’m kind of failing most of my classes.”

You chew on your bottom lip for a moment, his statement jumping out to you for a reason you’re unsure of. You glance at Eddie’s sheepish face as he tucks a strand of dark hair behind one ear, drumming the fingers of his opposite hand against his thigh; you can’t help but find him ridiculously handsome when he’s like this, all shy and indecisive, and you ignore the sudden urge to lean in and kiss him.

You try to imagine how Eddie would react if you were to make a pass at him; you’re fairly inexperienced, so you haven’t gotten much practice in the department of flirting, which makes you worry you might say something idiotic if you try.

Licking your lips, you shrug noncommittally, praying that your face doesn’t reveal your current topic of thought. “Maybe you could tutor me in something, like, not school-related.”

“Such as?” Eddie surveys you with his big eyes, blinking rapidly to communicate his impatience with you. “Listen, (y/n). I’m really not good enough at anything to be a tutor.”

Shifting, you toy with an idea that’s begun to form in the back of your mind, inflicting a sudden sense of urgency in your gut. It’s risky, but so tempting, with him this close to you.

“There’s still things that you know more about than I do,” you start, fidgeting with the hem of your sweater as a means of avoiding his eyes. You’re easing your way in now, testing the waters, and holy fuck, are you scared. “Y’know, like music, dungeons and dragons… and other stuff.”

“What other stuff?” Eddie says skeptically, crossing his tattooed arms across the front of his beloved Hellfire tee. “Those are the only two things I even do. I’m a simple guy.”

“Well…” you mutter, hugging your legs closely to your chest in an act of self-soothing. You’re running purely on adrenaline now, numb to the doubtful thoughts that nag at you incessantly. “Do you remember yesterday, when we were talking about that rumor that went around about you?”

He furrows his brows, obviously caught off guard by your seemingly random change in subject. “The one about Cheryl giving me a blowjob in the prop closet? I already told you, (y/n), that wasn’t a rumor.”

Cheryl is Eddie’s acquaintance from his times working backstage for the school plays, and the thought of her flirting with Eddie with her high-pitched voice and bleach-blond hair makes you want to throw up. You hadn’t known she was the type to give blowjobs, and at school, no less; the information had been enough to make your head spin- was everybody at Hawkins getting more action than you?

“I know,” you say slowly, stretching your legs out to recline in front of you. “That’s the ‘other stuff’ I’m talking about. You actually have a sex life, I don’t.”

Eddie chuckles, looping his fingers into one of the frayed tears on the front of his jeans. “I’m not, like, a sex god or anything like that. I’ve just fooled around a few times, that’s all.”

“Yeah, but at least you have an idea of what you’re doing.” There’s a gnawing anxiety creeping up within you, and you want to smack Eddie over the head just for being so damn clueless. Peering at him from underneath a veil of dark-painted lashes, you can see the confusion in his face, but to your relief, he doesn’t seem upset by your persistence- maybe this won’t end so horribly, after all. “Sometimes I just get nervous, y’know? ‘Cause what if I meet someone I want to fool around with, but I make a complete idiot out of myself because I don’t know anything?”

Eddie lifts his gaze to meet with yours, a half-smile making its way across his full lips. Fuck- is he starting to pick up what you’re putting down? You feel your heart skip a beat, palms prickling with sweat as he opens his mouth to speak. “What exactly are you asking me for right now, (y/n)? ‘Cause if I didn’t know any better…”

His words trail off, pink tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip as he observes you quizzically; he’s unsure of himself, with a visible heat flooding the pale expanse of his cheeks. After a prolonged beat, you say, “maybe you could show me how to do it right? So it feels good?”

For the first time since you’ve met, Eddie Munson is speechless. His skin darkens to an even more conspicuous shade of burgundy, his arm lifting to scratch at the back of his neck, and you begin to wonder if you made a mistake.

“Do…what right?” he asks you, though the tone of his voice tells you that he’s already well aware of what you mean. “You want me to tutor you in-“

“-blowjobs. Yeah.” You cut him off without really meaning to, but it’s not like your mind is focused on trivial things like manners at a time like this. “I mean- only if you want to, obviously.”

He stares at you blank-faced before breaking out into a wild grin, amused giggles bubbling up from the back of his throat. “You want me to repay you- by letting you give me head? Kinda sounds like more of a benefit for me than you, hon.”

“Just ‘cause it benefits you doesn’t mean it won’t benefit me, too.” You subtly inch your way closer to Eddie until your hips are side-by-side, encouraged to continue when he doesn’t back away. “I wanna know what it’s like.”

“You sure you’re in your right mind right now?” Eddie says wryly, sizing you up, adorning you with goosebumps at the invisible sensation of his dark eyes dragging up and down your body. “You didn’t get into my stash or something while I was in the bathroom?”

“I’m very much sober, Eddie,” you assure him, hesitating as you prepare to go even further, your palm finally dropping to rest on his thigh. He stirs ever-so-slightly at your touch, although he manages to keep his excitement contained for the most part. “I really do want you to teach me.”

“I don’t know how helpful I’ll actually be, but…” he gestures down at his crotch, where his erection is starting to press through the front of his pants obscenely. The view is satisfying, knowing that you’re the one responsible for it- if you’d have known it would be this easy to get Eddie Munson in the mood, you probably would’ve tried your luck with him a long time ago. “I’d definitely be willing to give it a try.”

“Really?” you say hopefully, letting your fingers trail in the direction of his hard-on until you’re toying with the front button of his jeans. “You’re sure?”

His eyes shoot down to where your hand is, your thumb and forefinger playing idly with the metal zipper. He nods rapidly, allowing you to proceed in unfastening his pants, your hands shaking as you do. “Are you sure about this? I mean, damn, you really wanna get blowjob lessons from the freak of Hawkins high?”

You don’t respond, rolling your eyes dismissively at his frantic line of questioning; nudging his bent legs so that he stretches them before him, you start pulling his pants and boxers down to pool around his hips. Eddie lifts himself up to assist you in the task, and in a matter of seconds his thick cock is on full display for you, flushed and thick and leaking.

“Holy shit…” you murmur, in a daze; it’s the first dick you’ve ever seen this close-up, and it’s so more intimidating than you could’ve ever imagined. You wonder if all dicks are this massive, or if Eddie is just particularly well-endowed, as you extend your arm to feel along his length experimentally.

“Was that a good holy shit, or a bad holy shit?” Eddie asks bashfully, nodding his head forward so that his long hair can obscure part of his face.

“Eddie, your dick is huge,” is all you say to shut him up, and he’s unable to resist the cocky smirk that teases at the corners of his lips.

He dips back against his bed so that his head is nearly flush with the mattress, pushing his hips out to elongate his body. He groans and stretches, his t-shirt hiking up around his midsection to reveal his soft belly, your gaze lingering there for far longer than it probably should. “Ah, c’mon. I’m not that big.”

The smugness is palpable within his protests, and you narrow your eyes as you position yourself on all fours next to him. “Just tell me what I should do first.”

“Well…” he looks at your face for awhile, before switching his attention to your cleavage, which is completely visible now that your baggy sweater is hanging off your body. Pretending not to notice, he says, “Usually you’d, um. Want to get it wet. Maybe stroke it a little with your hand before you put it in your mouth.”

“Like this?” You shift your weight onto your knees so you can sit upright, holding your hand out in front of your mouth and spitting into it crudely. Eddie inhales sharply, closely examining your every motion as you draw your arm away from yourself, a string of spit connecting your palm and bitten lips.

His cock is warm and silky to the touch as you wrap your fingers around it, and you take note of the way he hisses when you begin to move your hand up and down his generous length. “Y-yeah. Like that. That’s- fuck- good.”

You quicken your pace, a triumphant feeling washing over you as his head lolls back towards the ceiling, his stomach clenching and releasing in direct response to your manipulations. “And then what?”

Sinking down until your elbows are on the carpet and your back is arched up high, you bring your face closer to his cock, blinking up innocently in wait of his next set of instructions.

Eddie clears his throat, obviously making an effort to come off as unfazed, although neither of you are strangers to the truth. “You can, uh, put it in your mouth now.”

You’re perhaps a bit too hasty in your movements, because by the time Eddie’s cock is halfway in your mouth, he eases you back by your hair, stinging your scalp.

Rather than pissing you off, however, the sensation travels straight from your head to your cunt, and you let out a strangled moan.

“Shit- sorry,” Eddie says, his big hand stroking your skull where he’d tugged on it. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

You take him out of your mouth but remain close by, your spit-slick lips hovering mere centimeters away from the tip of his cock. “You didn’t. I, um, actually liked it.”

He raises his eyebrows, seeming equal parts surprised and pleased by your declaration. “Oh yeah? Guess I’m helping you learn a little more than just giving head, huh?”

Flicking out your tongue, you administer tiny licks to his slit, lapping up all of the pre-cum that’s gathered there; Eddie really seems to like this, because he fists your hair in one hand, a string of profanities spilling out past his lips. “F-fuck. Yeah, atta girl. Gotta take it slow at the beginning.”

Greedy for more of him, your tongue begins sweeping up the side of his dick, tracing lazily alongside the veins that travel throughout. When you’re certain you’ve covered every square inch of him with your hot tongue, you return once again to latch your mouth over the tip.

“Damn. No fuckin’ way you haven’t done this before,” he manages to say through grit teeth, fisting a clump of your hair to give him better control over your actions. “Yeah, that’s a good girl. Nice and easy.”

It’s undeniable what his praise and guidance does to you- your thighs are clamped together in a desperate attempt to create friction between them, hips rocking back and forth as you try in vain to rid yourself of the hungry feeling that’s taken you over. You bob your head down to usher a couple more inches of him into your gaping mouth, flattening your tongue against the side so as to fully embrace his salty taste.

“Ahh, shit. Fuck yeah, (y/n). That’s so fuckin’ good,” he urges, applying some pressure to the back of your head so you can swallow another several inches of his length. “Little less teeth. ’S’it. Yeah, see how deep you can take it.”

He gathers up your hair to keep it from getting in the way as you start to take him into your throat, your nose almost up against his pelvis as you choke and sputter around him. It’s difficult to breathe with your mouth this filled, but Eddie’s raspy words of encouragement serve in keeping you motivated.

“Keep going, sweetheart. Doing such a good fucking job for me,” he groans, his grasp on your hair loosening to that you can do as you please. With tears leaking from the corners of your eyes, you work to take in the entirety of his cock, gagging noisily when you feel it brush the back of your throat. “Your mouth is like fuckin’ heaven, babe.”

Your lips curve upwards at the compliment, but you’re incapable of thanking him, your mouth overflowing with nothing but him; as an alternative, you focus on bringing Eddie to his orgasm, painfully curious to discover how he’ll look and feel during his moments of release.

“Put your hand underneath. Yeah, right there,” he sighs approvingly as your fingers cup and massage his balls, bouncing them lightly in your palm as you continue to suck him. You’re on autopilot at this point, your rhythm impeccable and unrelenting; the noises of your wet mouth working at him are vulgar, your head plunging down on him again and again like you’ve been starved for a year. “Good fuckin’ girl. Yeah, you like choking on my big dick?”

You whimper at this, the vibrations from your throat transferring straight to his cock. Eddie’s grip on your hair tightens as he bucks his hips up underneath you, causing you to drool uncontrollably all over his thick length.

“Mhm. Take it nice and deep for me,” he mutters lowly, his head tilting upwards so that you're only able to see his parted lips and sculpted jaw. “Gonna cum in your mouth now. Think you can handle that, babe?”

You nod weakly, speeding up until his breathing becomes choppy and irregular. Your jaw is aching with exhaust, but you don’t dare stop- you’re too close to the finish line to start showing any slack now.

“Fuck, (y/n)-“ he gasps, and then his cock twitches, a spray of hot liquid coating the inside of your mouth as his veined hand keeps you securely in place. You find yourself struggling against his tight grip as the bittersweet taste of his cum paints your tongue, but you steady yourself enough to swallow it all.

Eddie takes in a shaky breath as he combs his fingers through your hair affectionately, giving you the opportunity to sit up and recover. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, (y/n). Now I really feel like I owe you something.”

He shimmies his clothes back up so that he’s covered again, his tongue sticking out thoughtfully from the corner of his mouth. His face is flushed and rosy, forehead kissed with the soft glow of sweat, and for the second time today, all you want is to kiss him.

“So… I did okay?” You wipe your slick face with the back of your sleeve, running the fingers of your opposite hand through your unkempt mess of hair. Sure, it’s pretty clear that he’d enjoyed himself, but there’s still a part of you that craves his verbal confirmation.

“Are you kidding? That was some A-plus head in my book. You didn’t even really need me to help you,” Eddie smiles, casually looping his arm around your shoulders, the basic act of which fills your abdomen with butterflies. “But y’know what? I realized that I kinda like being a teacher.”

You poise an eyebrow, a suggestive glint in your big doe eyes. You've got him. “Yeah? Why don't you show me what else you can teach me?”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #mine #joseph quinn #stranger things #stranger things imagine #eddie munson smut #stranger things smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #eddie munson blurb #stranger things blurb

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onlyonetifosi · 8 months

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I got a exam result in my English language back and got a c , I feel like I failed myself as people who've got lower than me in other exams got higher . Everyone is proud of me but I myself personally feel so bad with myself so I need a little comfort could you possibly write this like y/n gets a results back and didn't get what she wanted but everyone is proud of her but she breaks down in Joris and her brothers arms determined she's a failure .

<- previous series masterlist my main masterlist next ->

author note: Here's a small chapter (im sorry for being very short, im recovering from a cold, my defenses are very low and I am constantly sick) anyways lots of love <3 <3

The bell echoed through the hallways of Lycée Albert I, signaling the end of another school day. Y/N Leclerc gathered her belongings, feeling a knot of anxiety tighten in her stomach. She glanced at her physics test result, a stark reminder of the unexpected challenge she had faced. Normally, she soared effortlessly through her studies, always achieving the maximum marks.

Joris, her boyfriend and Charles's best friend, noticed Y/N's pensive expression as they walked out of the classroom together. "Y/N, what's wrong? You usually ace these exams," he said, concern etched across his face.

"I don't know, Joris. It's just... I thought I had it all figured out, but this time, it just slipped away" Y/N frowned, her voice soft

Joris placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Hey, it's just one test. You can bounce back from this. Let's go to Charles and the others, okay?"

In the courtyard, Y/N found solace in the presence of her friends, Martha, Riccardo, Hugo, and of course, Charles. As they gathered under the shade of a familiar tree

"Y/n, what's wrong?" Charles noticed her downcast expression as he approached, his school bag slung over one shoulder.

Y/N hesitated before opening up about her results "I... I got my physics test back," Y/n admitted, a lump forming in her throat.

Charles glanced at the paper in her hand. "You passed, right?"

"Yeah, but just barely" Y/n replied, avoiding eye contact.

Charles furrowed his brow, exchanging a concerned look with Joris. "What do you mean? You're always at the top of the class."

"I know, but this time, it's different. I feel like I let everyone down, especially myself" Y/N, said with a trembling voice.

Joris offered a reassuring smile. "Y/N, you didn't let anyone down. Passing is still an achievement. Besides, we're all proud of you."

Martha, her bestfriend, tried to cheer her up. "Y/n, it's just one test, you're still amazing. We all have our off days. You'll bounce back from this."

"Oui, tu es très intelligente. (Yes, you are very smart)," Hugo added.

Riccardo added, "Exactly! And you can always ask for help if you're struggling with anything.

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

As the day continued, Y/N couldn't shake off the weight of disappointment. When she reached home, she decided it was time to confide in her family.

In the cozy living room, Y/N sat down with her parents, Pascale and Hervé, and her older brother, Lorenzo. She nervously relayed the news of her test result "I thought I had it all under control, but I didn't. I feel like such a failure."

Lorenzo, her older brother, spoke first. "Y/N, getting a bad mark is not the end of the world. It's a lesson. You learn from your mistakes and improve. I failed exams too, you know."

"But I don't want to fail, Lolo. I want to be the best, for myself and for everyone who believes in me" Y/N looked at him, her eyes welling up with tears

Lorenzo enveloped her in a comforting hug. "Being the best doesn't mean never failing. It means learning and growing from your failures. You'll bounce back stronger, I promise."

Pascale joined in, placing a hand on Y/N's shoulder. "Chérie, we love you no matter what. tu es incroyable. Une note ne change rien à cela. You're still our brilliant and incredible baby girl" (you are incredible. One grade doesn't change that.)

Hervé added with a gentle smile, "And remember, even in moments of failure, you have a family and friends who will always support you, nous sommes fiers de toi, Y/n. Tu fais de ton mieux, et c'est tout ce qui compte" (We are proud of you, Y/n. You're doing your best, and that's all that matters)

As Y/N embraced her family, surrounded by their love and understanding, she began to see that the mark on the test didn't define her. It was just a step in her journey of growth and resilience.

taglist: @love4lando@gcldtom@im-mi@hiireadstuff@celesteblack08@reblog-princess@sunf1ower16@janeholt3@athena-artemis-dorian-gray@minkyungseokie

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ghoultrifle · 1 year

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Phantom is trying to do maths because he wants to be the smartest ghoul like Aether. Swiss comes over and asks what he’s doing. Phantom starts explaining subspace (maths version), to which Swiss responds they should explore the good kind of subspace instead

Jimothy once again pulling through as my favourite maths nerd, everyone else please enjoy learning about subspaces <3 This was so much fun to write but i am incredibly impatient so this has not been proofread and will not be my best work, sorry not sorry! I kinda forgot about the whole subspace thing halfway through but I do not have the energy to go back soooo

Swiss is trans because I said so! cunt, clit, dick, cock used.

Phantom was laying on his bed, stomach on the mattress as he kicked his legs in the air, twirling an eraser pensively in his hands. His mouth was occupied with the tip of his pencil, gnawing on the bitter wood, his free hand supporting the weight of his chin. Shoulder-length locks kept falling, clouding his vision. He didn’t care, he was fed up of learning about subspaces.

“Why do I care if U is a subspace of V? And why do I need to keep proving it?” He pouted, only himself to hear the complaints in the now dim light of his room, the midday sun now sinking below the horizon.

Phantom was rubbing out the workings for the latest attempt at the question, he kept making silly mistakes: misreading the question or forgetting how to do simple maths.

“Stupid fucking ghoul, you’ll never be as smart as Aether, just face it!” The quintessence ghoul cried out to the void. But the void replied…

The young ghoul’s door opened, it was Swiss. “What’s wrong, Baby Bat?” He questioned, frowning at Phantom.

“Can’t do this fucking work. Every time I think I’m getting somewhere, something else goes wrong! What’s wrong with me, Swiss?”

“Oh hey, it’s alright, Bug. Nothing’s wrong with you. Looks like you’ve been here all day, you’re probably just in your own head.” Swiss patted Phantom on the back, alternating between pressure and smooth strokes. “What’re you trying to do anyway? Are chores not enough for you?”

“‘m learning about subspaces!” Phantom replied, a passion reignited in his voice.

“Learning about what?!” If Swiss had a drink he would have comically spat it out all over the ghoul next to him.

“Yeah, I enrolled in an online maths course ‘cause I wanted to be smart like Aether and Omega. This week’s work is all about subspaces. A subspace is a subset of a vector space that is itself a vector space but also satisfies the three subspace criteria.” Phantom ranted. Swiss was too entranced in the energy of the younger ghoul to stop him.

“The first criterion is that the subset can’t be empty, the second cri –” The multi ghoul was pulled out of his trance as a fiendish idea swirled around his mind, hands roughly grabbing Phantom’s cheeks as he kissed him hard - anything to shut the other ghoul up.

Swiss pulled away, taking in Phantom’s look of awe, “Sorry Tommy, maths is a sore spot for me, can’t listen to it.” He apologised.

“How about we explore the good kind of subspace instead, hmm?” The older ghoul asked, gently coaxing Phantom to sit up as he swiped the ghoul’s hard work off the bed, landing crumpled on the floor. That was a problem for future them.

“Oh okay but I really do need to finish that work,” Phantom replied, worriedly gazing at his hours of effort lying on the floor, Swiss’ calloused thumb rubbing his shoulder.

“Hmm Baby, it’s worse than I thought. You really do need to get fucked dumb,” the multi ghoul cooed. His brown eyes raked over the almost shaking ghoul beside him. Swiss would be lying if he said he didn’t have a thing for smart guys; there’s a reason he and Aether always shared a hotel room on tour. But he could also tell when someone just needed to be reminded how stupid they are, pliant under his touch and unable to form a coherent thought.

Through many a session with Aether, the multi ghoul had honed his quintessence, now at the ability of a teenage ghoul, and a horny one at that. “I’m gonna use a bit of magick, alright? Can you remember your safe actions?” Swiss asked in a loving tone, like honey lined his vocal cords, his words coating Phantom in a sickly sweet embrace.

“Mhm Sir, pickle or three leg taps if I can’t speak.”

Swiss shuddered at the honorific, seems Phantom wouldn’t need much help dropping today, his control already slipping at the mere suggestion of a scene.

“Good boy. Now let’s talk about our subspace criteria. First rule, a sub’s head must be empty.”

The older ghoul extended his fingertips to Phantom’s now-bare chest. Quintessence oozing from his digits, reaching in, shoving all the work on Phantom’s metaphorical desk onto the floor, leaving the ghoul devoid of thoughts.

“How are you feeling, my precious?”

Phantom could only stare at him through lidded eyes, mouth agape as he attempted a nod. Swiss knew the answer to his rhetorical question, however. Phantom’s trousers were tented, the ghoul shifting where he was sat in an attempt to get some friction on his filled out cock.

Every movement was primal, a base instinct not tied down by societal rules. In any other scenario Phantom would be horrified at the blush working its way across his cheeks, unable to hide it with his leaden arms. Right now though, he isn’t even aware of his body’s reaction to the touch.

“Oh such a slut for me, aren’t you? Can’t even tell me how good you’re feeling. How hard you are in those tight little pants. Already leaking and I haven’t even told you the rest of the rules.” Swiss teased.

The quintessence ghoul’s blush only grew a deeper purple, contrasting his mottled skin. His head was vacant, half-formed thoughts fleeting by at incredible speeds, long disappeared over the horizon by the time he tried to acknowledge them.

“Second rule, a sub must be obedient,” a flustered Swiss declared, thinking on his feet now. He wanted to commit to the bit but didn’t think he’d get Phantom on board. “Do you think you can be a good boy for me?” he asked, knowing the words would get his dumb toy’s dick leaking as he cradled the smaller ghoul’s face, his hand easily reaching both ears.

As promised an almost imperceptible damp spot started to form on Phantom’s tight, dark pants, outlining the head of his cock. It was begging for release, sensitive and oh so hard. The quintessence ghoul fluttered his eyelids at the other, his way of saying Yes Daddy, I’ll be such a good boy for you.

Swiss was equally as affected, his clit rock solid while his cunt was creating a very sticky problem in Swiss’ boxers. But tonight wasn’t about him, it was about helping Phantom let go in every way possible. So he continued to let the wet patch grow as he recited the third rule.

“The third rule for a sub to be just perfect is for them to float away. Let me take care of you, bug.”

As Swiss was quoting the rule he reached down to unzip Phantom’s trousers, giving his weeping cock a few quick strokes through the red boxers, no doubt borrowed from Dewdrop. Phantom had just enough of a hold on reality to let out a choked moan as Swiss finally touched him. A small whimper came out when the multi ghoul removed his hand.

Swiss wasn’t a ghoul known for his patience, and that extended to the bedroom. It didn’t take long for him to decide that tonight Phantom would have to get off while pleasuring the multi ghoul because he’ll be damned if the new summon doesn’t have the hottest mouth. Of course the award for physically hottest mouth went to Dewdrop but Phantom’s soft, plump lips and limber tongue won the award for most pleasurable.

Swiss unbuckled his belt as he slid off his bottoms in one smooth motion, only tripping as the fabric got stuck around his ankle. It didn’t matter, it wasn’t like the dazed ghoul on the bed could react in any way, still heavily under the influence of Swiss’ quintessence.

The multi ghoul stood there, dick jutting out between his folds. He always described himself as an outie, and he was proud of it. Phantom seemed even prouder, drool spilling from his lips as he watched Swiss give himself a few tugs before swiping at himself and giving it a taste.

“Like what you see, hmm?” Swiss mocked, reaching out to Phantom’s chest again to partially release him from the throes of his magick. “Well how about you show Daddy a good time then, baby bat.”

And with that Swiss was pushing down on Phantom’s ribs, forcing the younger ghoul onto his back as he straddled his midriff, trapping Phantom’s leaking cock beneath him.

“Ah Swiss, feels so mmm good.” The quintessence ghoul whined, in control of his voice once again.

“Oh, bug, toys don’t talk.” Swiss frowned, trying his best not to let his excitement show. He agonisingly inched his way up Phantom’s body, leaving a trail of slick behind him before his cunt arrived at those delicate lips. “Let’s put that mouth to good use instead, my love.”

Swiss lowered himself gently onto Phantom’s face letting the younger ghoul lick exploratively before sliding his tongue deep inside the multi ghoul. “Eat up,” he smirked.

And Phantom did. Anything to be a good boy, the promise of a reward implicit with Swiss. He could be mean but he’d never leave a lover unsatisfied. So Phantom ate Swiss out like his life depended on it. By the way his cock was kicking, leaking pre over his happy trail, it really felt like his life did depend on it.

The skilled tongue laved against Swiss’ walls, a heady mix of spit and slick coating his insides. Phantom’s tongue occasionally departing to give kitten licks to his clit before sucking the bud whole, hollowing his cheeks to show the multi ghoul just how big he was. It didn’t go unnoticed.

“Unholy fuck Ant, forgot how good your tongue was.” Swiss pleaded, any attempt at keeping a stern demeanour now in the past.

Even with his mouth occupied, Phantom was far from quiet. He was attempting to set a ministry record in getting Swiss off, and he knew exactly what buttons to push. A little ah here mixed in with breathy moan there and Swiss was coming apart, quickly. The multi ghoul loved an expressive partner, his already large ego inflated any time someone moaned.

Phantom was beginning to flag, limbs still heavy under Swiss’ spell and tongue beginning to tire from its intense workout. The larger ghoul took pity on the whimpering ghoul, handing him a pillow from the top of the bed. It was encased in a grey cover and it was firm, Phantom needed a lot of neck support when asleep.

Swiss craned his neck behind him to see he didn’t even need to tell the younger ghoul what to do with it, the pillow already shoved deep between his thighs as he spared all his extra energy into rocking into it.

“Fuck Phantom, such a good boy for me,” Swiss encouraged “humping that pillow so well. Bet you wish it was me sinking onto you, clenching around that lovely cock of yours as I use you.”

Both ghouls were getting close; Swiss at the sight of his partner desperately humping a pillow, and Phantom at the friction said pillow was providing. The case was covered in streaks of pre, getting more wet with each thrust of the quintessence ghoul’s ruddy cock, only spurring him on as the shame hit.

Phantom was a ghoul that got off primarily on shame. Something about doing these sinful acts with his packmates left him hard like nothing else. He learned all these rules during his summoning about how humans are supposed to act, it was ingrained in him by Papa. So now when he does anything outside the norm he feels that hot shame coursing through him, straight to his dick.

Phantom’s hips were canting up rapidly to the soft fabric of the pillow case, now a dark grey. He was unable to do anything but moan against Swiss’ folds, and hope the larger ghoul was as close as he was.

His skilled lips were assaulting Swiss’ cock, doing his best to give Swiss the best blowjob of his life as the multi ghoul’s slick ran down his chin. The t-dick was engorged as Phantom sucked and swirled his tongue around the growth. All it took was a well timed breath from Phantom, hot air engulfing his cunt as the smaller ghoul emptied his lungs.

The sensation had Swiss cumming with a yell, Phantom quick to resume his efforts on his clit as Swiss rode out his orgasm.

“Satanas, bug, I should dumb you down more often, that was incredible.” Swiss praised as he wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead. Looking down he could see the mess he made of Phantom’s face, shining, covered in his release.

Phantom was smiling back at the older ghoul, proud of his work but desperately hard and teetering on the edge. The pillow was great but he just needed more.

“Oh were you hoping I was going to get you off?” The multi ghoul chimed, “Think again, bug. Need you to hump it like you do when you’re alone. And don’t pretend you don’t, Rain told me everything.”

His hips bucked harder at the request, humiliation setting in. “Can I move, Daddy?” he asked tentatively.

“The stage is yours, darling.” Swiss replied as he blew the ghoul a kiss, already feeling a puddle of slick forming beneath him.

The quintessence long worn off by now as the new summon manoeuvred himself onto all fours, adding the pillow to a stack between his thighs before he started thrusting his cock into the pile. Each cant left him panting and whining for more.

“Look at my little toy, getting off on a pillow like a good boy.”

Phantom keened at the praise, spurring him on. His full body weight was on the stack of pillows now, his cock sliding easily into the creases of the fabric as his hips moved, no longer a conscious motion. He just needed to cum, soon.

It was just the wrong side of enough stimulation but he was determined to make it work, to be a good boy for Swiss.

The next time Phantom looked up, Swiss was tugging himself between his thumb and forefinger, moaning at the sight before him. That was enough to push the quintessence ghoul over the edge. He grabbed his cock harshly, no longer caring about the implicit ‘no touching’ rule that sessions with Swiss involve. As he stroked his shaft the pillow beneath him was painted a delicious white, Phantom’s head thrown back as he whined.

He knelt on the bed as he came down from his high, marvelling at the art he produced. Looking over at Swiss, he was shaking his head, a frown adorning his usually joyous face.

“Good toys don’t touch themselves.” He tutted, “Do it again.”

Phantom sighed, gripping his soft cock as he tried to coax it to life once more. The only saving grace being the whorish ghoul touching himself beside him. They were going to be here a while, Phantom definitely wouldn’t be finishing his homework tonight.

#trifle writes #jimothy #phantom is a pillow humper #the band ghost #nameless ghouls #phantom ghoul #swiss ghoul #the band ghost fanfiction #phantom x swiss #swiss x phantom #aeon ghoul #spicy tag

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divinesolas · 2 years

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Flowers | The Series | Chapter Seven | Oh.

Summary | Jacaerys reflects, is annoyed by his family and learns some troubling news.

Pairing | Jacaerys Velaryon x Fem!Reader

Warnings | not proofread, probably ooc, jealous jacaerys

Word count | 1.6k

Series Masterlist

After you had left, Jacaerys felt himself grow bored of the events. The lady who had interrupted you two of you was now clung to his side, faking sickness he got to leave the garden earlier than intended. But not before he snags one of the roses from a bush.

Once he finally makes it back to his room he sighs and sits at his table with his head on his hands. How much more of this could he take? He lifts his head and admires the flowers you had given him earlier that morning and touches them lightly.

A knock on the door startled him, “Enter.” His mother walked in and he stood up, “Your grace-” The look on her face made him pause, “Mother.” She smiled.

“I heard you were feeling unwell, are you okay?” He nods as he looks down, unable to look at her, “I'm sorry mother I just…” He trails off, he doesn't know what to say. “You don't have to apologize for my sweetness.” She touches his cheek and lifts up his head, “Sit.”

He sits down in the chair he was just in and she sits in a chair next to his and grabs his hand. “You can tell me anything you know about this.” He nods and looks down. “I know my mother.” She smiles and nudges him, “So are there any ladies you like.” He looks up at his mother with a slight glare and she laughs. “I'm just asking sweetheart there must be at least one who caught your eye.” He moves to shake his head no but his mothers words cause him to freeze, “Maybe a certain girl who brought you some flowers.” His eyes widened at her alarmed, How did she know- “I am not blind my boy it is nice being queen you have eyes and ears everywhere.”he’s embarrassed. “She is not a true mother.” She's quiet and has a pensive look on her face before answering. “I told you, Jacaerys, these festivities are for you. You are free to pursue anything or anyone you wish.”

She squeezes his hand and smiles at him, “I do hope you can keep your options open however, This decision is not one to be made lightly.” He nods as he considers the other ladies but you are the only one who pops into his mind just as you had all day. “She is the only thing I can think about.” His mother gives him a shocked look at his admission before she can speak. Another voice cuts her off, “That's exactly how I felt about your mother.” Two of them look at daemon who had silently entered the room. Rhaenrya smiles at him as he comes over and places a hand on her shoulder.

“You remember what i told you earlier don't you.” He nods as the demon's earlier words play in his mind, ‘ pursue what you want.’ “What did you tell him?” Rhaenyra asks but daemon does answer, shaking his head with a smile. “I'm sorry to interrupt but they need you for a council meeting.” Rhaenyra stands and nods as she kisses jacaerys head, “I love you.” “I love you too.”

They leave and jacaerys is left alone. He picks up the rose he had gathered earlier from the garden, he wanted to give you his rose, give you his heart, he didn't care had he just met you, many people married with less of a connection anyways it would be no different. He rummaged through his drawer to find a small knife daemon had given him as a child and sat back down in the chair. He had no clue how to dethorn a rose, his fingers started to bleed slightly as he held the rose in his hand, Despite not knowing how he knew he couldn't give it to you like this. He sat there for a while cutting away at the rose until it looked good. He didn't know if it was dethroned but it was the best he could do.

He left his room and he looked around. Where could your room be? He had no clue where to even look, he began to roam the halls but stopped and thought to himself. He couldn't go to you directly, He hasn't even asked your father for permission to court you, it would be terrible. But how would he get the rose to you? Lost in thought he barely notices ser erryk walk into the hall and looks alarmed to see the prince. “My prince!” Jacaerys looks at him and an idea comes to his mind. “Ser erryk.” Erryk bows, “Good afternoon my prince.” “Do you happen to know where the lady dunn’s room is?” Erryk tilts his head, confused, “I do my prince, is something the matter?”

He looks around quickly, noticing no one is there he turns back to him, “I need you to deliver something to her room during tonight's dinner, you must not be seen.” Ser erryk nods hesitantly, “Of… Of course my prince, anything.” Jacaerys hands him the rose he had hidden behind his back. Ser Erryks eyes widen and he sighs in relief as he smiles, “Of course my prince.” Jacaerys nods and turns to leave.

He walks down the hallway feeling satisfied. Once you got his rose you would know his intentions then the next day he shall ask your father for permission to court you. He smiles to himself as he imagines you and your smiling face, seeing you laugh and hearing you talk. “Ugh you're disgusting.” Aegon, he stands leaning against a wall with a cup of wine in his hand. “Imagining that poor girl from the poor house again.” “Shut your mouth, Aegon, do not speak badly about her.”

Aegon fakes hurt before he rolls his eyes, “You're stupid if you think you're going to marry that girl.” Jaacerys glares at him, “What do you mean?” Aegon shakes his head and turns away from him, taking another sip. “This whole event is a lie, you're not going to get a choice, it's just so your mother knows all of her options and she can pick one that suits her needs. When she went on tour she never got to pick, they forced her to marry ser laenor, Your feelings dont matter.”

Despite how hurtful Aegon's words are, they seem so real he can't help but believe them. The voice in his head plays this earlier conversation with his parents in his head. Maybe Aegon is just screwing with him like always, or maybe he’s being serious. He's not laughing like he would usually do and he's not even trying to gauge his reaction. “You don't mean that.” Aegon scoffs and turns to leave, “Take my advice, just forget about her and move on, you won't see her again after this.” It's too real, he doesn't even wait to see what he’ll say, what his face would look like he's gone in a blink of an eye and it makes him sick.

No, his mother wouldn't lie to him. His father wouldn't lie. Is this whole thing really just a pretend event? Dreadfills his bones as he thinks of the flower he had sent to you. Maybe he should find erryk and ask him not to, before he can go searching he's rushed back to his room to get ready for the feast.

He’s hoping he can see you during the feast. He’s quickly proven wrong however. He never gets to see you, between your far away seat and him having to dance he never even gets a moment alone. When he finally gets to breathe and looks for you he spots you talking with joffrey arryn. He feels sick, he wants to march over there and steal you away. He sees you laugh and his hands clenched into a fist, he wants to be the one standing in front of you, getting to admire you and chat with you.

He almost walks over there but he doesn't get the chance as you leave, his eyes follow you as you go. He shakes his head and attempts to get back into the conversation this girl is desperately trying to keep in front of him but he can only think about you.

The next morning he woke up feeling worse, he had tossed and turned for the majority of the night not being able to find peace. Once he had been dressed for the day he had breakfast sent to his room to avoid his family.

Despite when all he wants to do is lay in his bed and rot his brother comes knocking on the door. “Come on, let's go train.” Jacaerys sighs as he sees lucerys and aemond standing in his doorway. “I dont know-” “It is your duty as crowned prince you must come.” Hearing almonds tone he knows he can't get out of it and gets up, “What has you so upset anyways?” Lucerys asks as they begin to walk down the hallway. “Well he's obviously heard the news.” This confuses jacaerys, “What news?” Aemond is not the one who turns to him confused, “The news that the lady dunn has entered a courtship with ser arryn for the vale? Is that not why you wear that odd look?” Jacaerys freezes and he feels sick, he hopes he’ll snap out of his dream and wake up to reality but it never comes and lucerys wears a face of horror. “Really?” “Yes, he asked her father for permission this morning.” All he wants them to do is shut up. Lucerys turns back to jacaerys “Brother-” “Do not say anything.”

This can't be happening.

----

Tags: @abrielletargaryen @aemondssiut @elissanatok

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i-like-her-like-that · 6 days

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Hi gang

I do not have very good reception currently and I'm on holidays somewhere hell knows where. Well really I know where I am but. Yeah. Anyqays um I love you guys and I promise I'm not dead. I will answer my DMs and asks when I get home sjdjkf and you're more likely to catch me on Discord, but really nowhere at all because i can't really use my phone without being caught by my mother pensive emoji sad emoji

I really freaking want a burger and I was promised a burger on the first night here but I still haven't had a burger and it's all I want so yeah you should mail me a burger

Anyways Hollis is cool and so is Chaos and so is Brook et Xen et tout de mes amis and anyways I know I wrote that in french and it's probably wrong but half my app is in Frecnh and I can't be bothered to click on the word and just change it so you guys xan use google translate um

If there’s any drama at all that I miss that requires my opinion you can just add Brook + Chaos + Xen's opinions together and divide them by 3 and you'll get mine. Have a good day and giive me a burger thanks I hope you missed me imy sorry but this was written under a blanket in a very tight space [ the bottom bunk bed of a stupid caravan or whatever ] so yeah

I wanna go home it’s also nearly my birthday and also I have schoolwork to do why am i stuck here for like four more days

#Halloran speaks or whatever i will change this tag later

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alls-fair-in-pride-and-prejudice · 2 months

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Weaving Constellations pt 8 - The Wizard's Dilemma

Part 7 / Part 9 / Part 1

This is an ongoing story of Gale and my warlock Tav building off canon. If you'd like to be added to the tag list to get notified of new parts you can go here.

A/N: We're in Gale's POV (or technically, still 3rd person limited but his thoughts are the focus) for this part for Reasons That Make Sense (it's what got me out of the block I was having). I did make a poll about how aware Gale is of his developing feelings and the final results did lean on the more aware side, but at first the results leaned more oblivious and that's what I ended up writing. I feel he has specific circumstances that hinder his connection to his own feelings - this is a willful denial sort of situation. Also I can't believe how much easier Astarion is to write when he's not the love interest, all I have to do is make him a little shit. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

@vespaer77 @lalectricedumonde @odd-dragon @aylin-the-barrel

As a promise to Lae'zel, everyone agrees to stop by the nearby creche before making their way into the underdark.

It goes… poorly. Yes, poorly is the apt descriptor there.

All that effort and all they get for their troubles is the ire of a lich queen and a relic that Gale can't even study. He supposes it is only fair, given what has happened to other artifacts under his touch, but to his mind Shadowheart is being particularly greedy with the Blood of Lathandar, especially considering the god of the dawn is rather the antithesis of her lady of darkness. Nevertheless, such a religious relic is best held in the hands of a cleric, he agrees. It will certainly aid in braving this shadow curse Halsin spoke of.

Gale is… concerned. On several fronts. This quest of theirs is proving to be more fraught with dangers by the day. Lae'zel's tent is pitched the farthest from camp, and were she even slightly more inclined to opening up to Gale, he would check on her. Defying one's goddess is something he is intimately familiar with, though he feels his past failures would only serve to make Lae'zel feel worse, so he allows her the space she needs to process.

With that, he turns his concern to Lyra. She went in alone to speak with their so-called guardian. Gale has already gathered that the guardian's appearance changes depending on whom they are speaking to, perhaps a side-effect of meeting in dreams as they had. After all, there is only one guardian, yet everyone described a different figure. Gale himself had mistaken the dream figure for an avatar of Mystra. Fool that he is, to think she would ever speak to him again. He wonders what Lyra saw.

Lyra sits by the fire, stroking Scratch’s head, seemingly lost in thought. He approaches carefully, sitting next to her. Scratch nudges his leg with his nose, asking for even more pets. Greedy little pup, two hands are not enough apparently. Gale rubs the dog's ear. “You have seemed particularly pensive this evening. Copper for your thoughts?"

Lyra chuckles dryly. “It'd be better spent using it as the material component for a detect thoughts spell. Perhaps you'll have better luck sorting through my thoughts than I am."

“An experience I am quite familiar with, and one I often found was alleviated by sharing the tangled web of my ideas aloud to another.”

"I…" she sighs, finding her words, hands pausing their job of scratching the snowy pup to search the air for the proper phrases. “I am coming to terms with the fact that Midnight may never come back. The first day, well, that was part of my punishment. The next, okay, he's being petty. The third, the fourth, the fifth, time works differently for fey, maybe he didn't realize…” She rubs at her eyes. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be telling you this.”

Gale's brow furrows in confusion. "Whyever not?”

Lyra smirks and raises her brow at him, as if she's doubting the sincerity of his confusion. "Because I know you, and I know you feel guilty that I gave you that artifact, and if I tell you about all my heartbreak and stress and worry because of it, you're only going to blame yourself more. And you don't need to do that."

She's right, the guilt is so ingrained in Gale now that it's just a constant background hum. Not solely for the artifact, of course, but for failing Mystra, for being such a burden upon these (mostly, Astarion is a toss up) good people, for hiding the truth of his condition for so long. It eats at him just as much as the orb does and he supposes it will be just as much a constant companion for the rest of his days. "I fail to see why I should not, for if I had only held out or-”

"If I had it to do over again, I wouldn't change a thing,” Lyra interrupts, resting her hand over Gale's. "I made my own choice, and now I'm facing the consequences.”

"It's hardly fair. If it were solely a business transaction perhaps I could understand, but…you were- are?- in love. To throw away that affection and relationship for one act of defiance?” Gale swallows, suddenly feeling as if he has said something transgressive. “Mystra I could understand.” He says, words spilling out as if to cover up his slip. "I defied her desire to protect me from dangerous magic, and out of a selfish and hubristic search to prove myself. But you? Your act was selflessness alone. You hardly deserve to be punished for it." There's an old familiar tugging in his chest and he shifts to put a little distance between them. His gaze falls on her face, the stray dark curls that frame her face, the way the golden light of the fire sets her violet eyes alight like the glow of faerie fire.

Lyra brushes back her hair a bit, her gaze fixed on the campfire rather than Gale, which he is grateful for. “I feel…guilty,” she says, finally. "Not, of course, for what I did for you. But more that… I don't miss him like I thought I would. Right now, I'm more concerned with whether or not I can adapt these sorcerer powers to our needs. Being a warlock, I know that. I can use that to survive…this is different. This is much more uncertain at a time when we need to cling to anything certain to have a chance at making it through this alive." She leans back, looking up at the sky. “This isn't the first time he's left me on my own, but before I was…” she chuckles, ending it with a heavy sigh, "a mess. I'd constantly be wondering what I had done wrong, how I could keep his love, what I would do without him. Now…” Lyra shrugs. "Maybe I just have more important things on my mind. Maybe the threat of death or ceremorphosis has made me more practical. But I can honestly say I'm hardly concerned with whether he still loves me or not. That I can survive. I'm just not certain whether I can survive what comes next. Am I terribly cold and callous for feeling this way, do you think? For caring more about the powers he gives me than our relationship?”

Gale shakes his head. "You're pragmatic, and you have every right to be, given the forces we are up against. It is only right that you should be more concerned with your continued existence than the outcome of a romantic entanglement.” He opens his mouth to continue, then hesitates, wondering if it is his place to say anything. "And… if you felt continually unappreciated, if that, indeed, is what you are suggesting and I have read that correctly… perhaps it is only natural that eventually, you would grow tired of striving to be enough for him.” And if he could not see what a fantastic woman he had in his arms, then more fool he.

Lyra reaches out and squeezes Gale's hand. "Thank you for listening.”

There's that tightness in his chest. He can feel the magic humming in her blood, in her bones, in her soul. He wants to get closer, absorb her essence through touch, he wants and it is eating at him how much he wants to devour her.

Gale yanks his hand away, pulling it close to his chest as if she had burned him. "I- I must- lovely conversation but I should go.”

He dashes to his tent and shuts the flaps tight behind him. He tries to steady his breathing, excitement makes it worse, after all. "You can eat every magical item in the realms," he grits out, "you can drain the weave from every last precious artifact on toril, no matter how useful. But by the gods, you will not touch her.”

—

The Underdark is beautiful, that much is true. The bioluminescent mushrooms and the Myconid colony are wondrous in particular, and Gale is quite looking forward to investigating that tower Omeluum mentioned. Yet, for all its beauty, the Underdark presents him with a continuous sense of malaise. Gale can feel the ceiling of rock overhead at all times, an oppressive sort of presence cutting him off from the sky. From what he knows of Lyra, and her love of the stars, he suspects she would feel the same way.

It is difficult to avoid someone when you’re traveling with them in such a small group, but Gale makes do. He keeps his nose buried in a book, not to be disturbed. He keeps his focus on anything but her, and distractions abound on such a perilous journey.

There is but one problem: he promised Lyra another magic lesson. There is only so long he can make excuses and put it off. Truthfully he does not want to put it off. She has a natural inclination and a clear passion for the subject that he is delighted to share. Yet, every night she approaches his tent, he finds a reason that he cannot grant her that second lesson: he has to cook food for the camp, he’s still feeling the effects of that poison arrow that caught him, he exhausted his magic reserves for the day.

She will probably stop asking soon… is that what he wants?

He has to keep his distance. It is one thing if he is reduced to sneaking off with an artifact in the middle of the night. Everyone would be displeased with him, but provided he keeps to the least valuable of the items, he could be forgiven. With Lyra’s sorcery unlocked, however, magic flows through her veins, and should he hurt her, nevermind what the others would think, he would never forgive himself.

Gale rubs his temples, pausing the pacing he has only just realized he was doing. He’s being ridiculous, he can keep the orb from devouring the very artifacts he wears into battle, and should the hunger grow too much he can sacrifice those to keep the orb from feeding on Lyra’s magic. Why is this any different than the restraint he has exercised for a year? If he thinks of her channeling magic his usually disciplined mind runs off with thoughts of grabbing her arm, pulling her close, and devouring her. The way his face grows hot with something more than shame does not entirely escape his notice, but he pushes those thoughts aside.

With the orb hungering for Lyra’s blood, Gale supposes he’s no better than Astarion, now.

That is a thought. Perhaps Astarion would have an idea or two about resisting that hunger.

Absolutely not. As far as Gale has fallen, he has not fallen so far as to go crawling to that arrogant bloodsucker for advice.

Gale’s thoughts are interrupted by Scratch barking. He goes to investigate only to find Lyra playing with the dog and the owlbear cub. They leap up into the air, trying to chase the dancing lights she has conjured. There is such joy on her face as she plays with them, and Gale is impressed at how quickly she has mastered so many spells in the short time he has known her. She catches him staring and smiles brightly at him, the multicolored lights she conjured illuminating her face.

Gale goes to Astarion’s tent.

“Well hello, wizard,” Astarion croons, tilting his head in a way Gale might mistake as flirtatious if he didn’t know any better. “What can I do for you, my friend?”

“I have… a question, or rather, several questions. Purely academic curiosity, of course, regarding your condition, if you’ll indulge me,” Gale answers, pushing past his hesitation.

“My condition of being hopelessly beautiful? It does help when one is eternally young, but I suppose I can offer you a couple of tips.”

“Astarion, I have come to you for assistance, and I would appreciate it if you could drop the sarcasm.”

“And I would appreciate it if you would be clearer. I assume by ‘condition’ then you do not mean our shared parasite problem. There’s no need for euphemisms, dear wizard, everyone in camp is well aware I drink blood.”

“Yes, quite right, that one, the exsanguination issue, I- um-” Gale searches for the proper words. “I read a book once that devoted a chapter to vampires. It described them as in a constant state of unsatiated thirst. If that is indeed the case, then it must be torment the likes of the fabled punishments enacted upon the poor souls in Dis, to be surrounded by a feast in which you cannot partake.”

“Get to the point, wizard.”

“How do you resist?” Gale finally asks, words a bit rushed. “How could you possibly keep from drinking any of us dry in our sleep?”

Astarion puts a hand over his chest in exaggerated offense. “Why I am shocked, Gale. All this time I have kept my pearly whites far from your neck and yet you still don’t trust me!”

“This question is not asked out of suspicion, Astarion, it is academic-”

“Purely academic curiosity, so you said, forgive me if I find that excuse a touch flimsy.” Astarion sighs in that melodramatic way of his. “If you must know, I didn’t… completely resist. You’ll recall the morning the news of my nature broke. Lyra assured everyone she gave her blood willingly, which she did before you hurl a fireball at me, but… I may not have asked at first so much as she woke up to my fangs a few inches from her neck?”

“You what? You absolute- you- how dare you. You could have killed her!”

“But I didn’t. Besides, it’s all water under the bridge now, don’t make such a fuss.” Astarion looks away from Gale, huffing. “Your book wasn’t entirely wrong, but the implications are a nightmare. I am capable of feeling satisfied, mostly. There’s always that little nagging, but ever since that night I’ve been keeping myself well-fed on animals, which is certainly easier now that I don’t have to worry about hiding the evidence. It hardly compares to the blood of thinking creatures, though, and for that our resident sorcerer has been keeping me very happy.” His eyes meet Gale’s again, and the bastard smirks.

Gale processes what he’s saying. “You mean, it wasn’t just that one night?”

“Oh not at all, I just visit her bedroll after everyone else is asleep. She offers me a bite roughly every other night, particularly if we’re preparing to go somewhere she knows my skills will be needed. I need to be at my best, don’t I? You of all people should know how generous she can be, since she’s been doing the same with those artifacts you need.”

Perhaps Gale simply thought he was special. He pictures Astarion visiting Lyra in the night, leaning down over her like a lover, his hand gently tilting her head to expose her neck to sink his teeth into. The thought of it makes his blood boil, but he forces himself to take a deep breath. It is her choice after all to put herself in the hands of a vampire, even if he wholeheartedly believes it to be a foolish choice.

“When she unlocked her latent sorcery, did-” Gale stops himself from finishing the question on the tip of his tongue. Did she taste different?

Astarion cocks a brow at Gale, eyes flicking between him and Lyra. “If you’re so worried about the two of us, she already turned down my gracious offer to show her a night of passion.”

“I wouldn’t- that is certainly none of my business, what the two of you get up to, or don’t get up to rather. My concern for her is completely practical. While you may benefit from the arrangement, I just hope she is maintaining her health. I am unsurprised, though, that she turned you down. She seems the loyal sort, and she does already have a lover.”

“Ah yes, that is a good point. She hadn’t brought him up when I first suggested we indulge ourselves, so I hadn’t thought of his role in the rejection, but now he has conveniently abandoned her. The poor dear is probably in desperate need of some comfort, perhaps she has changed her mind…” He looks over at Lyra, who is now scratching Bite the cub on the head, and there is an unmistakable predatory gleam in his eyes.

Gale swallows. After all Lyra has done for him, it is only right that he should repay the favor and make sure her vulnerable emotional state is not taken advantage of. “Ah, well, perhaps another night. I was only stopping by to satisfy my curiosity before I gave Lyra that magic lesson I promised her. Speaking of which, I should get on with that. Thank you very much for your - ahem - illuminating dialogue.” He gives a slight bow of his head before hurrying over to Lyra.

Astarion stifles a chuckle. “Tch, too easy.”

#alls fair creations #oc lyra #weaving constellations #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #baldur's gate 3 #gale x tav #bg3 fanfiction

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givethemsmut · 1 month

Text

The Pack | Chapter Three

Characters: Dylan O’Brien, fem!reader

Pairing: Dylan O’Brien, Dylan x You

The next morning I woke up naked in Dylan’s bed in absolutely nothing but his buttery soft sheets.

I reached for my phone that I couldn’t find until I leaned over the edge of the bed. Snatching it off the ground I read the time: it was 9:30 AM. My head was rattling and the hand over was in full effect.

There was no way I would have let some stranger take my virginity. Kiss? Sure, we were both drunk. I sat up covering myself. I had no idea if I should wake him or just leave when I opened an app to order an Uber to come pick me up in 15 minuets.

I swiftly got out of his bed and put my clothes back on. Every few seconds I was checking his bed for movement, any signs of him catching me escaping.

I had no idea if Alex was still here. I had ten texts from my dad worried sick and five from Alex about kissing Tyler. I put my converse back on when I noticed a used condom on the floor of his bedroom. Carefully tip toeing to his bedside I lifted the covers to see if he was naked too and he was. Every slender muscle was on display and my body reacted before could be mortified.

I lost my virginity while drunk to a stranger and can’t even remember.

I snuck down stairs and headed to the kitchen to splash some water on my face when he scared the life out of me. “I’m a morning person. Dylan is not.”

“Sorry I didn’t know we fell asleep. Mind if I just wash my hands?”

He pointed to the sink in a form of a yes, “Fell asleep huh?” I shook my head, not entirely sure. I thanked him for inviting and told him I had to run. He simply asked, “Want to me to give him a message? Or Alex? She also fell asleep in my bed. Making us breakfast if you want any.”

I must of looked confused because he returned the look, “Why would I want you to do that? I don’t even know him. Anyways, thanks.” I left ready to get into the Uber that arrived.

Finally home my dad was sitting on the couch looking pensive. He immediately stood up as I stormed through the entrance and started his dad type rant. “Where the hell were you?! You can send a text letting me know not to expect you to come home at all! I was worried sick! I even called Brody!”

I replied, “You did what?! DAD! I’m not speaking to him!”

He poured himself more coffee no doubt he didn’t get any sleep, “Where the hell were you this whole time?!”

“Don’t freak out. Alex and I went to Tyler Posey’s for a party and we didn’t feel comfortable driving so we slept on his couch.” It was a half lie. I know I’m horrible.

He was beyond angry now, “You expect me to believe you slept over Tyler’s house and nothing happened?”

That was his one rule: I had to stay away from his actors.

I sallowed hard. There’s no lying to my dad. “Actually, I got drunk. And technically I fell asleep in Dylan’s bed. He’s in Teen Wolf too.”

He paced behind the kitchen island furiously, “Dylan Fucking O’Brien’s bed?!! I know who he is young lady! I also know his girlfriend of 6 years! I also know he’s a wildcard! You better have used protection!”

Biting my lip, “Well actually I think they broke up. I just want to remind you I’m an adult now and of age to drink.”

He rubbed his face, “Last I knew you were a virgin despite the shenanigans you and Brody put me through.” Which wasn’t weird information for my dad to know. I was open about being a virgin and proud of it. So many girls were having sex at 14 and getting abortions at 18. I didn’t want that life. I didn’t acknowledge his last comment but went up stairs to showered and nurse my headache out the door.

I finally texted Alex after my shower, ignoring Brody’s messages entirely.

ME: Hey girl. I got so drunk. I feel awful.

ALEX: Tyler said you left this morning. You stayed over?

ME: Fell asleep in Dylan’s bed. And then I woke up naked…

ALEX: WTF. You finally had sex?!

ME: It’s all a blur. Can’t remember. But I think the used condom proves it… You and Tyler…?

ALEX: We just made out and watched a movie! Omg!! You’re not a virgin anymore! Celebration?

I didn’t respond. I was trying to dig for memories. I ended up falling back to sleep in my robe. I woke up remembering pieces like kissing him, getting tangled up, him reaching for a condom. Or at least hoping they were memories and no pure fantasy after seeing his chiseled body.

The rest didn’t come to me until I had some coffee and headed back to my room. More memories of Dylan taking off my panties, push down his boxers, pushing inside me, How the condom felt slippery and cold.

I pulled out my Mac to start some homework when my phone buzzed against my leg, it was from Brody. “Your dad called me saying you didn’t come home. I told him you’re too much of a goody two shoes to be in trouble.”

Which was a half truth. Everyone I knew was comfortable popping pills, smoking, drinking and having sex by fourteen. They all blamed growing up in Hollywood while I avoided everything.

I’ve gotten drunk before, Not last night drunk but enough. I’ve smoked. Broken the law. Virgins doesn’t mean you’re 100% pure. I could be evil too.

I quickly texted, I slept over Dylan’s House, full well knowing he has no idea who that was. I didn’t until last night either.

Another memory became less foggy – the feeling of ecstasy. How it felt when he pushed my body over the edge and he kept pushing himself inside me while I came. I felt him shake inside me. I felt him get even harder between my legs. Solid. I got goosebumps remembering. Almost turned on by the feeling, memory.

My dad yelled up stairs that he was going to work and text him if I’m leaving the house. I shouted okay back.

D Y L A N ‘ S P O V

We both had scenes to shoot today. We both popped three Advil and chugged water followed by ginger ale. Today was gonna suck. Posey drove us into the lot today. I had sunglasses and a beanie on in 85 degree weather of sunny LA when he finally asked, “You had somebody stay over?”

I laughed, “Oh Shit! You heard us?” He looked confused, “You know, we were jumping on my bed?”

I watched him crack up as he turned into the lot for check in. He asked, “You didn’t have sex? What about Britt man?”

I got angry remembering, “Fuck her. Oh fuck yeah I did. You know how long it’s been since I’ve gotten any? Britt was gone for 3 months and I didn’t cheat.”

“Bro. We gotta talk.” Pulling into his usual spot and turned off the car, “The girl you fucked last night? He’d dad is Wes. Our producer.”

I was trying to put it all together. “Wait, Wait. That’s why she was on set. Not for you. Holy. Fuck. I’m fucking dead! I fucked our boss’s daughter! What the fuck!” I was paranoid around every corner he was gonna surprise me and murder me for what I did. We had a table read today and two scenes each. We walked into the board room for the read and he was at the head of the table with his arms crossed.

Posey was always seated closer to Wes, and I was next to him, a one one person buffer. I sat down and didn’t look up when I heard, “Ty switch with Dylan.” Of course we had to he’s our boss. Hunched over I was quiet the whole read until my lines.

During a lines taking place at the other end her dad leaned over and said, “Heard you guys had a party. Heard my daughter fell asleep in your bed. Better have been it.”

I didn’t speak, I didn’t want anyone else to hear, I can’t be the guy who fucks crew’s daughters or get blocked by Wes from other jobs. The room cleared out when I felt his hand on my arm stop me from getting up. I looked up and he said, “You can explain then I’m gonna talk. Go.”

I said, “Posey and I had a party. That’s true…” I trailed off hoping it was enough. He waited for me to continue, “We had a lot to drink. I didn’t expect anything to happen. I didn’t even know she was your daughter. I thought she was here visiting Posey when I ran into her the other day.”

He spoke, “My turn. My daughter was a virgin last night. Last I checked you had a girlfriend I’m fond of, Britt. Ring a bell?”

My mouth dropped, “Wait. What. I – I – um – she. What.”

Her dad passed my shoulder and got up without clarifying. I went to my trailer after. I had to get my head back on. I had a job to do but all I could think was I took someone’s virginity without knowing it.

Tyler was waiting in my trailer and asked what happened when I shouted towards him, “She’s a fucking virgin!”

Posey thought he was being a smart ass by saying, “Well not anymore bro.”

I looked at him in anger, “You fucking think! She didn’t tell me that! We were both wasted. She didn’t even bleed.”

“Why would her dad know that information?? She probably just wants him to think that. She’s our age.”

I sighed heavily like a huge weight was lifted off of me as I slumped down on the couch. “Yeah, you’re totally right. You got her number?” Pos shook his head but he had Alex and that leafless good enough for me, as long as she was willingly to give that number up.

#dylan o’brien fanfic #dylan o'brian imagine #dylan obrien #dylan obrien smut #dylan o’brien x reader #Dylan O’Brien fanfiction

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