#i have been trying to write this since. november. head in hands

[scullysexual]

Time Can Heal Rewrite

A canon divergent/Irresistible fic. What if Scully’s post-abduction trauma was actually dealt with. What if Mulder realised that his quest for the truth was costing too much?

A/N: A Time Can Heal rewrite because 25 year old Powder is gonna have a better way of telling this story than 20 year old Powder. Also it will most likely have a different title but I haven’t decided yet. It has been inspired by Jean Helm's And Death Shall Have No Dominion (since the two fics were recently confused for each other; highly recommend you read that fic, it's my favourite) And also the scene in Irresistible where Scully sees Pfaster morph into a bunch of different people. I also just wanted to write a fic that addresses Scully's trauma. The original was never completed, I got to 10 chapters but I've decided to rewrite it since it was such a long time ago and me and my writing have both matured since then. You'll find similiarities between this one on and the original, obviously, but I'm hoping this is the better version.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Chapter One

They put her apartment up for sale. Good.

Her mother promised her she would try to get it back.

“You were gone for three months,” her mother says, justifying her actions. “We didn’t know when you would be back. We thought…” Her mother glances towards Melissa, her sister materalising for the first time in a year and a half, unable to say the word.

“You were dead,” Missy answers softly.

Scully was dead. She had floated up to that white room, laid on a table, a man standing over her; her father, who had forced her back down.

Between the bright light that had blinded her atop of that freezing summat to the hospital room she lays in now, she had been dead.

“I’m sorry,” says her mother.

There was nothing to be sorry about. Scully didn’t want her apartment back; it's lonely, soundless rooms made for one. Scully wanted noise, the presence of another person, the knowledge that somebody might be there to protect her. 

She chided herself. She is supposed to be the protector. But how could she ever protect others if she couldn’t even  protect herself? 

There was an ever-present fear. Her stomach twisting as she lays in the bed of her mother’s guest bedroom. It keeps her awake. Watching shadows twist in the dark as she tries to remember anything but there is nothing, just the sense of time missing, something lost. Maybe that is what scares her; memories of time that she will never get back.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

She has her first nightmare a week after she returns. 

Trapped inside the trunk of her car, she bangs against the roof to no avail. There are people around her; she can hear their voices speaking in a language she can’t understand, someone laughs, there’s the sound of a gunshot, and the undeniable stench of cigarette smoke.

Scully wakes in a panic. There’s something over her head, her body. Hysteria takes over her as she truly believes she is in that trunk still, that she had hallucinated her survival and recovery.

But the top of the trunk is soft, the material lays against her body and when she kicks her feet or moves her unbounded hands the material moves with her.

She kicks the duvet off her body, hears the sound of it falling onto the floor in a heap. The November chill seeps through the cracks in the windows and Scully shivers yet she can’t bring herself to pull the duvet back over herself. Instead, she curls into the foetal position and gently closes her eyes, willing the nightmares away.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

A nightmare doesn’t wake her. In fact, Scully is unsure if she even had a dream last night but the duvet is over her again and that is enough to send her heart beating rapidly and her breaths quickening. She kicks the material right off.

“Scully?”

Scully opens her eyes to find Mulder staring at her with puzzled concern. The sight of him immediately calms her, temporarily banishing her fears to the corners.

“Hi, Mulder.”

She hadn’t seen him in two weeks. Those first couple of days she couldn’t get him away from her but over time, once she was moved and settled in her mother’s house, his visits had decreased exponentially. It had been a week since he last visited not that Scully had minded, she understood life and work took precedence and with the X-Files having been reopened she knew better than most how busy Mulder must be right now. 

Still, that hadn’t stopped her from missing him and seeing him here now fills her with as much joy as it does comfort. 

“You doing okay?” he asks.

Scully shrugs. Head down, fingers fidgeting with each other she doesn’t want to burden him with her nightmares and worries.

“As well as I can be, I suppose,” she answers.

Mulder looks unconvinced.

“Your mother tells me you haven’t left this room since you got here,” he says not buying it.

Scully frowns, feeling defensive. Were Mulder and her mother judging her? Surely they must understand. Besides, she was still healing, the pain in her abdomen still hadn’t gone away, it hurt to even walk over to the ensuite bathroom some days.

But they were excuses, she should get out of this bed, soon she will be back at work.

Scully looks towards the window, curtains drawn open so she could see the light dusting of frost outside. Mulder must’ve opened them when he came in because they were closed over last night and all day yesterday. Scully didn’t want to see outside let alone be out there. The thought of leaving this bed, of facing the world and the monsters that inhabited it made her stick to the sheets like glue. Her mother and Melissa had both tried to coax her outside to no success, Scully would just shake her head, say she was tired. Eventually they gave up and left her alone.

Mulder, she knew, would do no such thing.

“You can’t stay in bed forever, Scully.”

She closes her eyes at his words. She knew that but still…

“Come on,” he urges, holding out his hand. “Let’s sit outside, we need to talk anyway.”

Scully looks at his hand then back outside. Just to the porch, she tells herself. That wasn’t scary, that was still her mother’s property where the monsters couldn’t hurt her. (She had thought that of her own home but they had still found her there) No, that wasn’t the same, this time she had Mulder, this time he would protect her.

She takes his hand and eases herself out of bed for the first time in two weeks.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

It’s cold on the porch. The chilly air nips at her cheeks, bites at her fingers that she wraps around the mug of tea her mother handed to her and Mulder. Scully sips at it slowly, tasting the hot bitterness of it, letting it burn her tongue slightly, it feels good.

Mulder is silent beside her despite his insistence on talking. She wonders if it had just been a ploy to get her out of her bed but when she looks over to him she can see him thinking, his face crunching when he doesn’t like a thought, pausing when he thinks he is onto something. It’s fairly interesting. It also fills her with dread. What could he possibly be wanting to say that is taking this long?

“Scully,” His voice cuts through the silent air and makes her jump slightly. “I handed in my resignation to Skinner.”

Scully frowns. She knew this already. During Skinner’s one and only visit- one that had surprised them all- he had recounted the tale of how Mulder had handed in his resignation but Skinner had refused to accept it. It had been told with humour, as if to try to add some light to the situation, and Scully had smiled along but when she looked at Mulder to gauge his reaction he had been sombre, lost in thought, somewhere far away.

“Yes, Skinner told me, remember in the hos–”

“This morning.”

It cuts through the air like a knife. Cold ice runs straight through Scully’s body that has nothing to do with the temperature. Her back straightens, tea forgotten.

“Excuse me?” she asks quietly because maybe she heard wrong, maybe he’s got it all mixed up.

“I’m leaving. My final day was yesterday.”

No, no he can’t…

“The Bureau?”

“The X-Files. I asked Skinner to close them, lock the basement door if he has to, burn the filing cabinet. Anything to…”

It’s a sucker punch to the gut, everything he is saying. She was back, they could work together again, everything could go back to normal but instead he had made decisions without her.

“And you did all this without talking to me first?” She makes sure he can hear the betrayal, the anger she feels.

“Scully–”

“And what about Samantha? What about discovering the truth? You’re really just going to leave all that?”

“Yes! If I must!” he says, his voice rising. “Don’t you see? It’s all too much risk. I’ve already killed Deep Throat because of this cause, I almost lost you…It’s too much.”

“But I don’t blame you for that, Mulder, you know that.” She tries to explain it, to make him see, why can’t he see that he’s all she has, her anchor. “We knew the risks when we signed up. This is why you should’ve spoken to me first.”

But Mulder shakes his head. “You can’t change my mind on this, Scully, I’m sorry. I leave tomorrow. I’ve handed over my apartment keys, my things are all packed into a van. This is the end, I’m sorry.”

Keys? Van? What? A panic grips her as she tries to make sense of the words.

“Leaving? Where are you going?”

“Just… away,” he answers, revealing nothing. “There’s an opening in one of the Field Offices, I’m transferring there.”

“Well, which one?” She fishes into her pockets for a notepad and pen so she can write it down, remember it, but of course she is wearing a robe, she had no notepad and pen. “Maybe I could see if they have another opening–”

His hand reaches out to touch her forearm, halting her movements. “Scully,” he says, his eyes pleading. “Don’t you understand? This is your chance to get away from me, to live a normal life.” 

Scully shakes her head. “I don’t want to get away from you.” Maybe it’s the cold or her fatigue but she can feel tears beginning to form in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” is all he says and for some unknown reason it makes her angry, angrier than she was before. Suddenly she can’t stand to be around him.

“Go then,” she says, standing up abruptly it makes Mulder jolt backwards slightly. “No point wasting time here.”

“Scully–” he calls to her, standing up himself.

“I don’t care anymore, Mulder, okay? If you want to go then just go.” Her hand is on the doorknob, ready to push it open.

“Please understand, Scully, I’m doing this to protect you because I care about you.”

If he gave even one shit about her he would stay. Scully’s hand pauses on the door handle, she turns her towards him slightly, eyes and voice cold as she tells him, “I don’t need your protection.” She rips the front door open and slams it shut behind her, it vibrates through the house like a gunshot, killing them both.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Mulder packs the last of the boxes into the Gunmen’s WV bus, pulling the door shut after himself and heads up to the driver’s seat where Langly, Frohike, and Byers sit together up front.

“You sure you don’t want a lift?” asks Langly.

Mulder shakes his head. “Nah, I’ll follow you up there.”

Langly nods, twisting the key in the ignition.

“So what’s up in Minneapolis anyway?” asks Frohike over the hum of the old engine.

Mulder shrugs. “A fresh start, I hope.”

“And what about the enigmatic Dr Scully? Will she be joining you?”

Mulder falters. His argument with Scully was still an open wound. For his last interaction with her to end that badly made him want to throw up. He had stood on that porch for a while after she had gone inside, until he had caught the attention of Mrs Scully who had wondered what had happened.

He had had no words for her, just silently handed the half-drank mugs of tea back to her and left, resisting the urge to look up towards the second floor where he could feel Scully watching him.

“That remains to be seen,” Mulder says, not wanting to tell the exact truth. “She might even go back to medicine.” A blatant lie but one he wishes to be true all the same.

“Well, we’ll certainly miss you,” Frohike says, an agreement made in mutters by Langly and Byers.

“Good luck, Mulder,” Byers wishes him.

Langly holds out his fist and Mulder bumps him. “See you around,” he says. He puts the bus into gear and with Mulder’s belongings takes off down the road.

Mulder watches them go, his eyes trained on them until they disappear around the corner, then he pulls out his cellphone, dials a number he knows off by heart now, lingers above the call button for a second, then presses it. He puts the cell to his ear and listens to it ring.

And ring.

And ring.

And ring.

It goes to the answering machine. To Mrs Scully’s soft, kind voice telling him she wasn’t home and to leave a message. Mulder buttons it instead, placing the cellphone back into his pocket. What was he even expecting?

When he gets to Minneapolis he’ll delete the number. And the two others. It won’t matter, he could recite all three in his sleep but he needs to try to cut her off, from his life, from his entire world if he even stands a chance at keeping her safe.

[roserefrain]

Linking Rings

Ship: Linnet/Kestrel

Word Count: 1323 words

Summary: A golden hair clip, a silver ring, a magician bringing his rings together, and ripping them apart. (An introduction to Linnet and Kestrel.)

"Oh, it's beautiful! I'll never take it off."

"...It matches your eyes."

"Huh? Haha, no it doesn't! My eyes are brown, Bl-"

An adventurer wears a bit of gold in his hair, all delicate filigree that stands out against the sharp stones all around him, jutting out from the dungeon walls. He's with two others, which he has decided that he can't stand. They only call him "songbird."

Adventurers had about a thousand superstitions under normal circumstances, and having essentially a zombie right next to them didn't exactly qualify as normal for most. He hadn't even told them he was a songbird, but people could tell. Most claimed it was something in the eyes.

Some considered them good luck, if you have someone blessed enough to have cheated death once, what's to say that it wouldn't happen a second time if things were to go awry? Some considered them basically the equivalent of seeing thirteen black cats in a row while you smash mirrors for fun. After all, if they're cursed enough that death didn't take them properly, perhaps you'll be taken in their place if you're unfortunate to be near them.

This particular adventurer likes to think of himself as more of a person than a charm, for good or for ill. More of himself than just a type of thing. But... who was asking him anyways? He dealt with it, responded to songbird like it was his name, and silently considered not healing these idiots whenever they got themselves into trouble.

"You need to stop wearing that thing," party member number one says. They have names, but if he's songbird, then they're party member one and two.

"What thing?" Smile, pleasant tone, adorable head tilt in just the way that makes the small strand of beads connected to his hair clip clink together. It's all carefully thought out, as always. Show anything real and something will eat it alive. Spirits, other adventurers, they're all vultures, and he's a walking corpse.

"That!" They gesture, exasperated, at the clip. "It's shiny, catches the attention of spirits. And it always makes that noise when you move your head! You're going to get us killed, songbird."

The other one leans forward, reaching their arm as if they're going to pluck it from his hair.

He doesn't quite know why that's the thing that sets him off, after two months of dealing with them. It might be one of their more reasonable gripes, honestly. But, when he sees them reaching towards him... It's as if all logic, all of his careful acting flicks off like a light. It was more like protecting a vital organ than an accessory.

He grabs that hand reaching towards him, and twists to the left until he hears a pained cry.

"My name is Linnet."

He leaves them that day, the instant he gets out of the dungeon. Doesn't even pause to count his share of the treasure they found. They shorted him five silver, but it would be the last time they did so.

"Wait, this is... this is for me? N-No, this was probably expensive-"

"No take backs!"

"W-Wait! Don't just put it on me! You know how that looks when it's a ring, De-"

A different adventurer wears a bit of silver around his finger. He repeatedly taps it with his thumb, a constant check to make sure that it's still there. It fell off in a dungeon once before, he's sure of that, even if he can't exactly remember when.

He's going into this dungeon alone, which some would certainly consider foolish. He considers it faster, more efficient, quieter. Sure, if you were a regular adventurer you'd only go alone if you had a death wish, but... this particular adventurer was a songbird, a rarity among adventurers. He was also competent and had common sense, which he considered perhaps even more of a rarity.

Of course, competency doesn't save you from injury, especially for users of the gore arts. He can feel the dull ache of several wounds on his arms, where he had to draw some power to take care of the spirits he'd seen up until now. It could be useful to have a healer come with him... On his own, sure he could get in and get out, but he was never able to go all the way to the end. Supposedly, the end was where the best stuff was. Treasure, magical items, even ways to close the dungeon, to get rid of all the spirits inside.

Well, for now at least, he's found enough treasure to make this trip worthwhile. Unnecessary risk was how you got yourself killed, that was how he'd watched other adventurers die. He wasn't like them, he wouldn't end up like them. He sighs heavily and pulls the ring off of his finger, tossing it between his hands for a moment. It's not a nervous habit, because that would mean that he's nervous, and he can't be that.

"Keep it together, Kestrel."

As if to immediately punish him for his moment of nerves- loneliness- talking to himself for no reason, a flying sword embed itself in the wall, missing him by what couldn't have been more than a few inches. He drops his ring in the moment of shock, and it goes rolling across the cracked linoleum tiles. Kestrel, in that moment, doesn't think, he simply bites down on his finger and points at the possessed thing, firing a concentrated beam of his own blood at it. And, perhaps that was just a bit overboard.

The sword is blasted easily into the next room, but Kestrel can feel the negative effects of his own moment of panic immediately. Weak, sluggish, his head pounds and his skin feels cold. He meant to run over to where his ring had landed, but he ends up walking, each step a bit heavier than intended. He had already been planning on leaving, but this makes that completely necessary.

This is some sort of stupid sign, to have this happen right after he thought, however momentarily, about having a healer. So, damn it, alright, if this is Love or Death or something else communicating with him, he'll listen! Doesn't mean he has to be happy about it.

As he climbs up the stairs, feels the sun glinting entirely too harshly in his eyes, he does his best to control his breathing, to not let the tiredness in his limbs convince him that he needs to sit and rest, just for a moment-

There's someone at the top of the stairs, someone with a shiny little gold circle in his hair, angled perfectly to glint right into Kestrel's eyes.

"You don't look so good!" The shiny stranger lets out a nervous little laugh as he reaches up and adjusts his hair clip.

Kestrel means to say something in return, probably a quick "I'm aware," or something like that, but he can't find the words. He taps his ring with his thumb absentmindedly. This person...

"Um... I have bandages! C'mon." He clearly thinks Kestrel is acting strange, just standing there and staring at him, even if he won't say that so directly. But, he just grabs Kestrel's hand to lead him fully out of the dungeon, up the last few steps. There's clear impatience in his movements, even as he attempts a reassuring smile back at him.

"I'm Linnet, by the way!"

He finally manages to shake the strange feeling that had come over him. Blood loss, that's what it was.

"Kestrel."

Somewhere, a magician's linking rings click back together, after being torn apart for so long.

"Were you waiting out here for me the whole time?"

"Oh my g- Delwyn! You're bleeding! Here, I brought some bandages, let me help..."

"Haha! You always take such good care of me. Just... maybe don't wait right on the stairs next time? I don't want you getting hurt, Blaidd."

[peanutalergy]

would you write something where Spencer finds reader's lost cat and brings it back to her then they keep in touch + they both develop a little crush on each other?

your writing is wonderful!! <3

-🪲

tags: fluff fluff fluff but there's making out (?) idk if that counts as anything; also lots of cursing lowkey; reader is lowk penelope garcia coded

w/c: 1.8k

a/n: tysm for the req that's an adorable idea unfortunately not such great execution from my part also I wrote this in like an hour I'm so exhausted I should go to sleep but whatever I also don't know if this what you meant anon I'm sorry if it's not 😭 yeah I hate this sorry idk what to say it sucks

MISSING CAT

orange, green eyed, really chubby cat, last seen at ~3:30pm on november 9th. he will answer to garfield or little fucker; most likely the latter, despite that not being his name. he's very clingy, he’ll probably come up to you and start rubbing on your leg like the little freak he is but he's actually just a baby who needs his mom (me) so please call this number if you find him.

reward: $10 and a kiss maybe if you’re nice enough

spencer chuckled when he reached the end of the text and saw the adorable picture of a ginger fat cat. he read over the number on the poster, making sure to keep it stored in a folder at the back of his head along with the image of garfield as he returned to his walk.

not even an hour later, when walking past a not-so-nice smelling trash can, he heard some loud purring coming from one of the boxes surrounding it.

if it were any other day, he would have ignored it, guessing it's just another stray cat, but he was still thinking about garfield and his seemingly interesting owner.

“garfield…?” spencer called out from afar. silence. he took a few steps closer, trying to peek over the box while keeping his distance so as to avoid getting jumped at and attacked. “little… fucker…?” he choked over the nickname.

immediately, the animal that had been in his mind since seeing his picture jumped out of the box, purring louder as he started rubbing on spencer’s legs. he chuckled despite being scared.

garfield wasn't nearly as well kept then as he was in the picture, due to the days he had been on the streets. still chubby, but dirty and with a few patches of dried blood in his fur. spencer tried to move away, seeing his pants getting smudged, but the cat just started following him.

spencer pulled out his phone and started dialing the number seen on the poster, still trying to avoid the animal. after a few rings, you picked up.

“hello?...”

“hi, is this garfield’s, uh… owner?”

“yeah, why? have you found him...?”

“i think i did, yeah.”

“oh my god, wait, actually? is he okay? are you serious?” you mumbled excitedly, sitting up from the position you were comfortably lying in, the show on your tv already forgotten.

“i am serious, yeah. i'm just out on a walk, and, uh… he was in a box near a trash can. he's all dirty and bloody, but he seems okay.”

“my poor baby” you said with a pout “where are you? wait– who are you? who do i owe my son’s life to? my savior, my hero?”

“oh, i’m just… just spencer, really.” he said with an awkward chuckle, giving in and leaning down to caress the cat, who immediately leans into his hands as if he's never been pet before, “spencer reid.”

“mm, cool. anyway, where are you? i’m going to pick him up. tell him mommy’s coming. actually maybe don't. don't refer to me as mommy, please.”

“uh, well, i wouldn't mind dropping him off at your place, if you want.”

“i thought you were on a walk? you're gonna walk all the way to my apartment with that fucker in your arms?”

“yeah, so… yeah, actually. does he… is he fine with being carried?”

“oh, totally, he loves uppies, but it's–”

“sorry, what? uppies??” he cut you off, confusion and disbelief clear in his voice.

“yeah…? uppies… like… when you carry an animal? in your arms?...” a bleach and tone, like???

“oh, okay…”

“yeah, so, he loves uppies. but it's just inconvenient, no? carrying him like that? where even are you, dude? is it not far?”

after you tell him your address, spencer decided it's close enough to walk there with an overweight cat in his arms. however, when he took forty minutes to show up at your door, panting and sweaty, you realized that probably wasn't a good idea.

“jesus, man, you could've just said you can't walk that long with this fucker.” you said as you opened the door, letting him in and taking the cat in your arms, talking to him in that tiny, baby voice. “oh my god, my baby, thank you so much. you poor thing. where were you, sweetheart? i missed you so so so much…”

spencer stood awkwardly in the doorway, wiping away the dirt that the animal left in his shirt, as you kept mumbling to him.

it must have been around another half hour before you set him down on the ground again, but when you did so, you looked at spencer and gasped, “oh, where are my manners? i'm so sorry, i forgot you were there. come in, jesus, come on in.”

he walked in, and after offering him a glass of water, you led him to sit on the couch. settling awkwardly beside you, he said “so, uh… is he alright? hurt..?”

“no, he's okay. i mean, as far as i can tell. not a vet, or anything. i don't think the blood is his… although that doesn't make it any less worrying. i'll give his vet a call. maybe stop by the clinic. yeah, i should probably stop by the clinic, shouldn't i?”

“yeah, probably. does he have all his vaccines?”

“of course.”

“still, there's a chance he would have caught a disease or eaten something that could have been infected. it's always good to make sure.”

“yeah, i know. i’ll give them a call, see if they can see us today.” you said, to which spencer replied with a nod, the two of you falling silent for a moment. “oh, right, the reward.”

you stood up and walked to the table, taking your wallet and a $10 bill from it. “there's no need, really… it's okay. don't worry about it” he argued, shaking his head when you offered him the money.

“no, oh my god, no, this is the least i can do. you walked so far, with that little heavy fucker. please, just take this. actually, you deserve more. i can barely handle to hold him for more than a few minutes, i'm not sure how you–” you look him up and down “��managed to walk with him for so long. just take the money.” you mumble, taking another bill from your wallet and handing it to him.

"no, no, really, it's fine, i swear."

"no, stop it. you're not leaving until you take this money."

he took it with a scoff, seeing how you won't take no for an answer.

“i should give you the other part of the reward, too.” you said with a chuckle as you sat back down beside him.

“what, the kiss?” he stammered, shaking his head as his face goes red and his eyes widened slightly.

“yeah, you want it?” he started stuttering when you said that, so before he got a proper word out, you added “nah, man, i'm just joking. i put that there to be funny, i'd never kiss a stranger like that.”

“oh, yeah, that… that makes sense.” he laughed shyly, nodding.

the cat showed up again, and you went back to talking about him, until spencer decided it's time to go home, which was only around a few hours later.

now, you're not sure when that turned into what it is now, but you're glad it did.

maybe it was the day after that, when you took garfield to the groomers, and sent spencer a picture of him when he got home, wearing the cute tie they always give him.

maybe it was when you started sending every picture you took of garfield to spencer.

or maybe it was when you started talking about things unrelated to the animal.

you're not sure. but now, spencer reid is at your place again, wearing a colorful hat and singing happy birthday to your cat.

of course, he's the only other person at the party. he's the only friend you were certain would show up. and that he did, after rambling about how the cat didn’t even know it was his birthday.

“woo hoo!! happy birthday, baby!” you exclaim when the song is over, taking the cat in your arms and giving him kisses.

“yay, happy birthday, garfield!” he says with a chuckle, petting him.

as soon as he starts getting fussy, though, you put him back down on the ground with a giggle, “yeah, yeah, off you go.”

“i did tell you he doesn't know the date he was born in.”

“well, yeah, but at least he's getting plenty of treats.” you shrug as you throw yourself on the sofa along with spencer, taking off the birthday hats and tossing them to the side. “he knows he's loved.”

“i'm sure he does” he mumbles, smiling at you softly.

“thanks, by the way” you mutter after a beat, turning to him and giving him a nod.

“for what?”

“finding him.”

“that was ages ago, you've thanked me 63 times since then.” he says with a laugh.

“it's not enough, though. he's a stupid little cat, i doubt he would have survived more time out there. you saved his life, probably.”

he nods, staying quiet for another moment.

“y'know, there is one way you could thank me.”

“yeah…?” you already know what he's talking about, he already knows that you already know. the blush in his cheeks that showed up as he said that, his fidgety fingers, the way he started avoiding your gaze.

“the, uhm… the other part of the reward…”

you'd tease him, make him actually say it, if it weren't for how anxious he looks. it physically hurts, how awkward he is.

so instead, you move your hands to his shoulders as you lean in to press your lips to his. for a second, you're scared this isn't what he was talking about. you're wondering if you've just screwed up a friendship, until he moves a shy hand up to your face.

he feels scared, at first. he holds your jaw, fingers gently tangling in your hair as he hesitantly kisses you. but when a moment goes by like that, and you move to sit on his lap, straddling his hips, it's like something within him changes.

he starts kissing you like you're the first and last thing he'll ever touch, his hands roaming down your body as he slides his tongue into your mouth. he bites and sucks at your bottom lip while his arms wrap around your waist, and your own arms go around his neck.

but a man can't live only off of his beloved’s lips. unfortunately, humans do need oxygen. so when he needs to pull away to breathe, he does so with a groan.

panting, you stare at each other with a smile, and pressing one quick peck to his lips, you whisper, “thank you.”

"no, thank you.”

[desideriumwriter]

Metamorphosis | F.W. x Reader

Summary: Fred has been acting differently since he got hurt during the War. You're not sure how many more of his outbursts you can handle.

CW: established relationship, mentions of a head injury, TBIs, migraines, blood, being cut from broken glass, yelling, arguing, crying, not proofread

WC: 4.3k

A/N: now this one is a rollercoaster

based off this request! | f.w. masterlist | navi

Things had been difficult since May.

Voldemort was dead and the war was over. But everyone was dealing with the aftermath.

Things were quiet for a while, people were quiet. Distant but united at the same time. It took a few months for everyone to try and go back to normal.

Now it was November, and Fred was still dealing with the aftermath.

Of course, a head injury from being hit with a spell and a literal stone wall falling on him would have its long-term effects. You’d already read the list over who knows how many times.

Memory loss, light sensitivity, aggression, problems with multitasking, communication issues, irritability, mood swings, forgetfulness, etc. The list went on and on, you hated how long it was. 

You did research on it, listening to his doctors and picking up as many books you could find on head injuries or TBIs.

You even got your hands on some textbooks that muggle medical students used.

George and you took care of Fred after he came back to your shared space above the shop. He spent his first week after being discharged from the hospital at his mums, due to Mollys demands.

Things slowly went back to normal after a few months. Most things.

Shops reopened all along Diagon Alley, including the twins, people felt safe to go out and chat with each other again. 

Life went back to how it was before the war began.

The cold weather was getting harsher and so was Fred. 

You knew that the irritability and mood swings would come along with the injury. You just weren’t expecting it to be so constant.

Fred had his bad days and he had his better days. Today was one of those bad days.

You could tell he was really struggling remembering what was in stock and what needed to be made more of. You sat with him at the counter as he wrote down on a notepad what was needed. Taking notes was one of the things that helped him nowadays.

You saw him look up, the cogs attempting to turn in his head.

“Peruvian Darkness Powder.” You said softly, it was the next thing that needed to be restocked.

“Right. That. Thanks.” He muttered out, crouching over to write it down, his hand shaky and handwriting a bit wobbled.

Frustrated with his shaky hands, he threw the pen down, putting his head in his hands, rubbing his face.

“I just don’t get why it’s so hard. I feel like I can’t properly do anything.” He groaned, the annoyance clear in his voice.

“Fred, it's what the symptoms of a-”

“I know it’s a fucking brain injury. I’ve heard it enough goddamn times. You don’t need to spell it out for me.” Fred spat out, ripping his hand from yours and walking past you. That was the fourth time he snapped at you today.

After closing that night, you sat on the bench right outside the shop. Elbows resting on your knees with your head in your hands.

You were really trying here. Trying your best not to get mad at him, to yell and spit at him as he did you.

He was still your Fred that you loved. He was just a bit different now, and that was okay, he was still your Fred.

The door to the shop opened, the silly tune of the charmed bell playing as a tall figure stepped out. Fred stood to the side of you now, his frame blocked out the light shining on you from the street lamps. The only light now being from the inside of the shop, illuminating his and your face once you looked up.

You breathed in deep, closing your eyes for a second, trying to keep any tears from falling. The cold wind wasn’t helping.

“Hi.” He gave you a shamefaced smile.

George had definitely scolded him and told him to apologize once you went outside. It’s not the first time he’s made him do it in recent times.

“Hi.” You sighed.

“I’m- I didn’t mean to snap at you when you were trying to help me with what needed to be restocked, or when you offered to sort the mail.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, suddenly feeling small. The feeling had become constant for him now.

“And before both of those, when you snapped at me in your office. Then in front of one of the cashiers.”

“I did?” He said softly, genuinely shocked. You nodded, brows knit together.

“Oh, I didn’t even realize. I don’t even remember that. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be so harsh.” Fred looked down, having the same expression as a kicked puppy.

“It’s okay, Fred. I know you don’t mean to.” You slowly nodded.

“I’m trying to not be so rude. I’m trying to be better, I promise.”

“I know, Fred. I know.” You sniffled.

The doctors said practicing patterns would help with cognitive ability. Patterning. So stocking the purple and orange mystery boxes in a pattern would be Fred’s practice.

He began to practice different patterns:

Purple. Orange. Purple. Orange. Repeat.

Then moved onto a bit more strange ones:

Purple. Purple. Orange. Orange. Purple. Orange. Repeat. 

He was struggling a bit more than usual today, you watched as he did, and it broke your heart.

You sighed as you put your notepad away, pausing writing down the grocery list for now and making your way over to Fred.

You reached out, putting the next correctly colored box on the shelf for him. He grumbled out a ‘thanks’.

“I can do the rest for you. Go give your brain a break.” You breathed out a laugh, trying to be lighthearted as you picked up the large box filled with the remaining mystery boxes to be put away.

“No, it’s fine. I’ve got it.”  Fred mumbled out, paying you barely any mind.

“Fred, I can tell your stressed enough just let me-“

“Will you piss off? I said I've got it!” Fred didn’t mean to yell, especially in the middle of a busy store, he was just frustrated. 

Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment and anger due to all the staring eyes of confused customers looking at the both of you.

“Fine, fucking do it yourself then.” You shoved the box into his hands. Walking off, pissed off as you threw off your hat onto the counter.

George murmured your name as you walked by, trying to put a hand on your shoulder, you shoved out his grasp.

You hid away in the back stockroom. George followed, entering a tiny bit after you.

You sat on a wooden box, leaned over with your head in your hands. 

“You know he doesn’t mean it. He got blasted pretty hard, it’s just one of the side effects.” George sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets.

You were so tired of those two words. Side effects. Yes, of course you knew what the side effects and symptoms were, that they wouldn’t be pretty or easy. But you were just so sick of hearing it.

You shrugged, lifting your head up.

“He's frustrated. With himself.” George sat down next to you, intertwining his hands into a ball. “He always feels bad after he gets angry.”

“I know, and I’m trying my best to help him out but it’s like he never fucking wants it. He refuses.”

“He’s never liked help, always wanting to be so damn independent and stubborn.” George let out a weak chuckle and shook his head. “It took him five minutes to accept the money Harry gave us. Even after that he tried to tell Harry he’d give it back if he changed his mind.”

“I remember, I was there.” You smiled a bit to yourself at the memory, Fred was so adamant about Harry keeping the money, or at least most of it.

“Chocolate?” He pulled a small bar off one of the shelves, you shook your head. “It’ll make you feel better.” You persuaded, you let out an amused sigh and took it.

“You stole that line from Lupin.” Unwrapping it and biting off a small chunk.

“Yeah, but it works doesn’t it?” You let out a defeated nod and smile in response, taking another bite.

“He’s not gonna be like this forever. You know that. He’s gotten a lot better since May. Just, his moodiness will stick around for a little bit.”

“I know. I’m just so worried about him. I can’t help it.”

George was at Angelinas for the night. It took him ten minutes to stop worrying and finally go, constantly reminding you if you needed his help with Fred, if Fred starts getting mean, to send him an owl and he’d come back immediately. You shooed him off and assured him Fred and you would be fine, that he should go have a worry-free night with Angelina.

It was going well, you watched a short movie and shared some snacks and cuddles on the couch. It was all going so nicely until you both decided to get changed and go to bed.

You slipped on a night shirt talking to Fred about the movie as he opened the top drawer on the wooden dresser. The one that creaked and occasionally jammed from time to time. 

Tonight was one of those times.

He pulled out a pair of pajama pants from the drawer, his eyebrows knitting together when he pushed the drawer and it barely moved. You looked over and frowned disappointedly.

“It’s stuck again.” You sighed, thinking out loud. 

“I know.” Fred muttered out under his breath, you didn’t catch it.

You watched as he repeatedly tried to push it, it wouldn’t budge.

“It’s just old, maybe tomorrow we could go window shopping for a new one?” You suggested sweetly as he didn’t respond, he just clenched his jaw as he continued trying to close it.

He used a terrifying amount of force as he slammed the drawer shut with one last push, causing the whole thing to ratter. The sudden movement and sound made you jump. You took a step back, Fred noticed. His expression faltered for a moment as his eyes scanned your body language.

“What, are you scared of me or something now?” He muttered, an attitude in his voice.

“No, I never said I was scared of you. You just…”

 “What? I’ve just what?” 

You were so sick of his attitude. You took in a deep breath before speaking.

“You’ve been acting up, you’ve been slamming doors, throwing things down when you’re frustrated, you yell more. At George and I especially. You’re unpredictable.” You let out quickly.

“Unpredictable? I have not been that bad. You’re dramatic.” Fred shot back, he was a bit hurt by your words, yet deep down he knew you were right. His actions had become surprising. But he was too damn stubborn and he was in the middle of a beginning argument, so he wouldn’t admit to it now.

“I’m not, you’re proving your point with how you’re being now. You’re being stubborn and defensive. You get angry and you yell at me. When I’m just trying to help! The doctors said-”

“I don’t give a shit what the fucking doctors told you! Or those stupid books you’ve been wasting your time on!” All this yelling hurt his head. But the words were spilling out his mouth like a waterfall of poison. 

“Have you considered your not being any help? If you really wanted to help you’d let me do shit myself instead of acting like I’m fucking stupid! You wouldn’t be walking on eggshells around me! You’d let me be instead of being a pounding in my head!” His chest heaved, his face slowly being filled with regret as he saw you. Taking a step back with the most painful stare at him, astonishment and hurt written all over your face.

He watched as you brought your arms up around you, holding yourself as if it was a way of shielding yourself from his words.

“Is that really what you think of me?” Your voice went soft. A small crack in your delivery of words as you rubbed your upper arm.

“No! Absolutely not! I just- I’m-” Here comes the sputtered out apologies, the regret filling him up immediately, you just shook your head.

“Forget it, I’m done with this conversation.” You barged out the room. That look never leaving your face, it will haunt him forever.

“Where are you going? I thought you were going to bed?” He called out as you went down the hallway.

“I’m sleeping on the couch tonight.” You shouted back, more of a loud mutter really. Fred said your name disappointedly, leaning against the bedroom door frame. You didn’t respond, you didn’t turn around, you made your way to the couch.

He didn’t run after and stop you. Knowing you’d give him the silent treatment and refuse to get in the same bed as him. For tonight only. Hopefully.

Though you tried to muffle and hide your sobs behind your hands, Fred could still hear it all the way from the bedroom. Those pained sharp breaths in that turned into wheezes, the little hiccups and whimpers of sadness you made when you breathed out were far too loud to be hidden.

You cried for two hours until you finally got a grip of yourself. Getting up and going down the hallway, not to get back in bed, but to see if Fred was.

You peeked your head in just enough to see his side of the bed, he was laying on his back peacefully, his eyes puffy. Had he been crying also?

He was relaxed now though, resting. At least he was getting some sleep. You quietly sneaked back to the living room. Lying back down on the couch and using a throw pillow for your head. 

You couldn’t get comfortable, couldn’t keep your eyes shut, couldn’t stop thinking, you couldn’t sleep. You missed him, you really just wanted to be next to him.

By the time the clock ticked to 2AM, you got up, tiptoeing back into the bedroom. Sneaking to your side of the bed, so carefully pulling back the sheets. You moved so carefully, so lightly, so gently as if everything was made of fine china. 

You debated if you should snuggle up to Fred, not wanting to wake him. What if he got annoyed again? You really didn’t want to deal with another conflict.

You carefully scooted over to him anyways, testing your luck. You slowly wrapped your arm around his torso, ever so lightly laying your head on his chest. He began to move and your body immediately tensed up.

His arm hooked around you, circling your waist, the other arm reaching over, his hand softly placed on the side of your head. Your body went limp in happiness. You could start crying again from all the joy you felt in this moment.

This is how you knew Fred hadn’t become a whole other person than the one you knew before the accident. His hands on you, holding onto you so sweetly, just like he used to. There were still those little remnants of his true self hanging around. He was still Fred. He was still your Fred.

You woke up to an empty bed. The sunlight shining down on Freds side of the mattress.

You changed into more presentable clothes, hearing the chatter from downstairs and knowing the shop was open. 

Going downstairs, Fred was nowhere to be seen while George was moving around helping customers and constantly casting spells to organize things.

Owning a joke shop was absolutely not a one man job.

“Where’s Fred?” You asked, looking around as you approached the counter. George was stacking cards. 

“In his office. Another migraine.” He tucked in his lips, seemingly annoyed.

“Oh. Well, I’m gonna go out, probably window shop. Do you need anything?”

“Could you get some cabbage? And a few more quills and ink? We’re running low.” He said, swiveling his way out from behind the counter.

You may have stayed out longer than you meant to.

Thinking you’d be back before five, you got home at nearly eight instead.

You did some looking around in local furniture shops, and you picked up what George asked for. You mostly just walked around the quieter streets, needing to get away from all the noise.

By the time you got back it was a bit dark outside and there was a closed sign on the shop door. You unlocked and locked it quickly, moving upstairs tiredly.

The living room light was turned off, the moonlight from outside being the only thing that made the room somewhat visible. Fred was sitting on the couch.

“Hey.” You spoke softly. 

“Hi.”

“Where’d George go?”

“He stopped by Angelina’s for dinner.” He said blankly. Everything felt so awkward.

“Oh. Have you eaten?” You asked as you set down the bags of supplies.

“Yeah, I had some leftovers.”

“Okay, well, what’re you doing in the dark? Get some light in here.” You giggled as you flipped up the light switch, overhead light brightening up the room.

Fred quickly scrunched his eyes closed with a pained expression, he put a hand up to shadow his face.

Fuck. Light sensitivity. He was already dealing with a migraine, that’s why he was in the dark, and you turning on the light made it much more intense.

“Shit. Sorry, sorry, sorry.” You blurted out as you hit the switch down, the room going darker again.

“Here, I’ll- I’ll get you a glass of water.” You sputtered out, running over to the kitchen sink and grabbing a glass, filling it up with cold water from the tap.

“No, you don’t have to.” Fred muttered out.

“Please, it’ll help. Just let me help.” You pleaded as you ran back over to the couch, sitting down and holding the glass towards him. He denied it again.

“Fred, just drink-“

“I told you! No!” He shouted, pushing your hand away.

The glass slipped out of your grasp. Hitting the floor and cracked into pieces, somewhere in the impact a small shard hit your lower leg. Nothing serious, it could be quickly closed up with a spell, but it was bleeding heavily already.

Fred realized what had happened once you felt the stung and winced, holding a hand over your small injury, crimson staining your hand and dripping onto your sock.

“Oh Merlin, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He panicked as he straightened up, patting his sides for his wand, he had left it in his office. He saw yours on the coffee table.

“Here, let me fix-” He reached one hand towards your wand, the other laying on your shoulder.

“Don’t. It’s fine, I’ve got it.” You said as you reached across, grabbing your wand and leaned your shoulder away from his touch.

His stomach twisted, the guilt was eating him up. He fidgeted with his fingers, not knowing what to do with his hands now that you refused his touch and his help.

You said a quick spell, the cut swiftly closing, skin looking unharmed and the only evidence of what happened being the remnants of drying blood on your leg and hand.

“I’m gonna go wash off my hands.” You said so quietly, almost a whisper. Fred stayed silent as he watched you get up and walk away, he wanted to cry.

You returned to the living room with a packed suitcase, quickly walking past Fred on the couch and to the chimney. His eyes stayed glued on you the entire time. You didn’t look at him.

“You’re leaving?” Freds brows knit together in a sad way, he sat up straight from his spot on the couch.

“Yeah. Not for long. I’ll be back.” You spoke, back facing him as you put down your small suitcase.

“Where?”

“A friends place. For a few days.” You didn’t tell him who, he would most likely send letters apologizing.

George was the one who suggested it surprisingly. Once he came home as you were washing off the blood, he told you to go take a few days to yourself.

“No offense to you, you’ve been doing great. But I’ve lived with him for nearly twenty-six years. I know how to deal with him when he’s mad.” He held your shoulders.

“I know how to deal with him too, you know.” 

“Of course I do. But I know you’re worn out as well. You need to take some care of yourself. Focus on you for a few days.” You really didn’t want to agree with George on that, it felt rude to do it. There was really no good way of saying he was wearing you down.

“I’m sorry.” Fred spoke out.

“I know, Fred.” You let out a heavy breath. “I’m not mad at you. I think we should take a break from each other.” You tried not to let your voice wobble.

“You don’t mean a break up, right?” He stood up from the couch.

“No. Of course not.” You finally turned around, looking at his gloomy face. “We just need to spend some time apart, just for a day or so. Okay?” You kept your voice soft and nurturing, hoping it would hide the way your own words were breaking your heart.

"Can I just get a hug before you leave? Please?" Fred took a few steps closer, his steps cautious. You closed your eyes and nodded.

You didn’t want to look at him for too long, both of your faces were threatening to deteriorate into tears, and you couldn’t stand to see it.

He pulled you into him nicely, hands slowly and carefully wrapping around you like you would crack if he moved the wrong way.

“I’m sorry I’m like this. I love you.” He said softly, sounding like it was a plea for you to stay.

“I know.” You mumbled into his chest.

Fred’s injury didn’t bother you. The forgetfulness of struggles with certain things didn’t bother you, you didn’t care if he struggled to keep track with things. 

It was just his anger. His outbursts. His shouting. That’s what bothered you, it was nothing like him. Sure, he’s definitely gotten moody or stubborn or annoyed before like during Quidditch matches back at Hogwarts or when a much needed shipment arrived late at the shop.

But you’ve rarely seen him truly mad, yell like he does now, the only time you can remember him like that is when he had to be held back from helping George and Harry beat up Malfoy after a match in his seventh year.

“I still love him, of fucking course I do. But he’s changed so much. it’s like,” You stopped, clenching your jaw and trying your best trying to keep tears from returning. “It’s like sometimes I look at him, and he’s a ghost, he’s a completely different man I fell in love with all those years ago.”

“You’ve changed too.” Alicia commented, “You’re not as much of a hermit as you used to be.” She joked, poking you.

“Oh piss off.” You let out a breathy chuckle, face falling soon after. “I’m scared. What if he stays like this forever?” You whispered out, a small crack in your voice.

“He won’t. You told me already, there’s still that cheeky little Fred that you’ve always know still in him. He’s getting better day by day.” She tilted her head. “And fuck it. Even if he doesn’t, even if it takes a while, you gotta grow with him.” You looked at her, puzzled expression on your face.

“If you don’t grow with him, if you aren’t willing to go through that, then what in the hell are you doing?” She shrugged, laying back in her chair. “You’ve gone through these shitty times with him before, right? And you both made it through. What makes you worried you won’t be able to do it again?” 

Alicia was right. You’ve gone through rough patches with him and made it out just fine. Casual disagreements, arguments and fights, yet you always made up. Leaving those arguments in the past and loving each other in the present.

“You staying another night?” Alicia asked you, taking a sip from her glass.

“No, I think I’ll go back. I’ll send an owl and tell them before I go.”

Once the green flames subsided and you stepped out of the chimney, dusting off your clothes. Fred came running into the room, a bouquet of all the flowers in his hand.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Feeling alright today?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Are you?”

“Yeah.”

God, you hated the awkward tension in the air. It felt like this every time you had a conversation.

“That’s good. Uh, these are for you.” He stuck out the bouquet nervously, hand trembling. You put down your suitcase and stepped closer. A small noise of adoration left as you looked at the flowers, it was all your favorites.

“I may not be able to remember much. But I remembered these were always your favorite.” He let out an awkward laugh.

The last time you told him what flowers you liked was in year five. You took the bouquet from him with hesitant hands, surprised by the gift. Fred swallowed his anxiety before he began to speak again.

“I didn’t mean to be so rude. I just get so frustrated with myself, I don’t want to act like that anymore. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t take it out on you, you didn’t deserve it.” He moved to cup his hands around your face, bringing your teary eyes to meet his.

“I promise you I’m going to be better. I swear on everything. I will be better.” He gave you a sweet kiss on your forehead, then pulled you into a hug. 

You held on tightly to his torso, turning the flowers away to keep them from being crushed.

“I love you.” You said into his sweater, tears beginning to fall.

“I love you too. So much.”

tell me what you thought! <3

[lis-likes-fics]

Caught Up

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader Word Count: 3.2k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, fingering, swearing, Spencer being way to sweet for anyone's own good... A/N: I've had a major writer's block since the beginning of November and this is literally the only thing I've been able to write so I hope you enjoy this bite-size fic. Hopefully, I'll be back in my groove soon and I'll be able to write more again. Until then, thank you and happy holidays!

Your relationship with Spencer had caught the both of you by surprise.

You met at a bar. You were solemnly eating peanuts as you traced the lip of your first glass of a vodka cranberry, sipping slowly and hardly even touched. Spencer was out with Penelope, Derek, and Emily, who'd found time for a drink after a busy work day.

You hadn't intended to go home with anyone that night. You were bored and a little lonely, trying to find a way to pass the night that wasn't you cooped up in your apartment watching movies in bed.

Spencer had seen you there, sitting alone and looking far too pretty for anyone's good. Derek had to shove him just to get him to go talk to you—he'd been staring long enough that it's a wonder you hadn't noticed.

When Spencer came up to you, you took one look at his pretty face and your night was already improving immensely. He was so unbelievably beautiful—sharp-jawed, long-haired, with eyes of caramel and a smile as bright as the sun. He talked your ear off about things you knew nothing about and nearly stuttered every time you tilted your head while he spoke. He kept apologizing for ranting, to which you kept telling him that listening to him speak was the only thing you wanted to do (he'd get all flustered and fall into another bout about prions or how humans bred dogs to bark).

He was endearing and lovely and kept telling you that you were so beautiful, and you were immediately taken with him. You stared at him like he was the one who created the stars in the sky.

So you took him home that night—which had also come as a surprise.

You honestly hadn't meant for it to happen. You invited him over for a cup or coffee (the bar would close soon, you'd talked for that long), and in the middle of one of his rants, you kissed him. It would have just been a kiss, but Spencer Reid kisses like you're air itself and he's been suffocated for years. You found your way into his lap, and the next thing you knew, he was laying you on your bed and kissing you and touching you and making you feel like the most special girl on Earth.

The first time was full of care. He was kind, he checked up on you at every turn, he used soft lips and softer hands. He held you close during every embrace and backed every touch with another kiss just to make sure you were perfectly comfortable. When you woke the next morning, he kissed you again and greeted you with coffee. (He'd profiled you based on your coffee cabinet and managed to make it to perfection.)

You would spend that day wrapped up in him, listening to him speak and telling him your life story like you were a book and he was your first reader (too eager to be known that you share every single detail you have to give just so you can be held a little longer in someone's hands). It's important to note that his speedy words and listening ears were not the only thing to embrace you that day.

He treated you well, and you treated him just as well. He made you laugh, he made you smile, he made you feel safe and happy.

Through the time you've been together, Spencer has come to learn a lot about you. You don't like eating with big spoons. You have an analog clock because you love the way it looks (you don't really use it), and the ticking drives you crazy at night but you refuse to switch to digital. You love to bake but you still haven't managed to perfect a cake from scratch (which drives you insane because you really can bake, you swear!).

But one of the things Spencer learned quickly is that you have a very high sex drive. You told him that, for a while, you thought you were a nymphomaniac. Then he described the full psychology of a nymphomaniac, and you decided that it may have been a bit of an exaggeration.

Either way, he was very happy to satiate your needs. At first, it was difficult to spend time together without falling into bed. And it's not like you didn't try! But the more he looked at you and the more he spoke and the more he told you how pretty you looked, the harder it was to keep from jumping his bones. He had a similar experience with you.

He was no sex god like he assumed Morgan to be, but the more he indulged, the harder it was not to think about getting to hold you, to kiss you, to taste you. He found immense pleasure in your pleasure. He once burned his hand at work pouring himself a cup of coffee because he got distracted thinking about something as simple as holding your hand or kissing your lips, which led to worse and worse until he found himself lucky the coffee wasn't freshly brewed.

It was hard to deny the other. You couldn't even say no when he asked you to hold his hand while you walked down a street, how were you supposed to say no when he got on his knees and looked up at you like you were the moon? How was he supposed to say no when you looked at when you ran your fingers through his curls and kissed the spot behind his ear?

Even now, it's an accident. He's looping his tie in front of the big mirror hanging from your closet door, trying to get ready for work. He catches your reflection, laying across the bed in sleep shorts and a dainty tee, a pillow clutched in your arms beneath you as you watched him. You don't say anything, you don't move, you just look at him as he gets ready. And he thinks, How am I supposed to leave when she looks like that?

“Spencer?” You murmur after a bit, watching him card his fingers through his hair.

“Yes, angel?” He says it with all the sweetness of a kiss and all the familiarity of your name.

You smile at him, holding your hand out for him. He melts like butter, stepping toward you to take your fingers in the palm of his hand. He squeezes twice. “What?” he whispers without cruelty, without urgency, a simple question to know what you're thinking.

You shrug. “Nothing,” you mumble. “Just wanted to hear your voice.”

His smile alone could make you cry. He bends down onto his knees, his elbows on the bed as he reaches for you. The pad of his fingers finds your temples, sliding gently into your hair until he's cradling your head like a basketball. He brings you forward, kisses your lips with the softest touch.

Your smile curves against his lips. You scoot forward enough to relieve some of the strain of reaching, tilting your head so your noses slide with each up and down of your heads. Your hands come to hold his wrists, gentle fingertips caressing the skin like you're testing the smoothness of marble.

When you break away, it's because a soft laugh erupts from his throat. You pull back in slight surprise, your brows furrowed in question as you chuckle lightly. “What?” you breathe.

He shakes his head, his fingers finding your cheeks. “I'm sorry,” he says. “I just don't know how I got so lucky…”

You can't handle it when he says stuff like that. Your heart is beating so hard in your chest, you think you'll have to go to the hospital. Whatever patterns it's taken up can definitely be described as irregular, and you're going to have heart disease.

“I'm the lucky one,” you try to say.

But he shakes his head again. “Trust me, it's me.”

You're the one who shakes her head next, kissing him again with your hands cradling his neck. “You're so perfect,” you mutter between kisses.

Spencer's hand covers your mouth. It's nothing cruel, just his fingers curling gently over your lips as an uncontrollable smile takes over his. “Stop,” he chuckles, though his voice is dripping with regret. “We can't.”

You move his hand down. “We're just kissing.”

He rubs the tip of his nose into your cheek, inhaling your scent before pulling away reluctantly. “We have a pattern.” He takes both your hands in his, stroking the back of your palms with his thumb. “Every time you kiss me with your hands on my neck, we have sex.”

You giggle, and it's the sweetest thing. “Not every time,” you smile.

He kisses you quickly, like a millisecond longer would lead to more than just kissing. “Eight times out of ten.” He looks at your face, sighing gently and feeling a pang in his chest knowing that he has to leave you soon. He can't be late again this week.

He paints a line down your cheek with his knuckles. “Do you want to come over tonight?” He pinches your chin gently. “Or I could come over and bring takeout?”

You caress his cheekbones with your nails, tracing the blush in his skin. “I'll bring you takeout tonight.”

He smiles. “You sure? I can get it.”

Your laughter is so comfortable, it sounds more like a giggle. “So can I. Let me spoil you.” You kiss him again.

He sighs, the sound fond in and of itself. “Okay.” Spencer stands to his feet, holding his hand out to you. “Give me a proper hug, angel.” It sounds more hopeful than it does demanding.

You stand on the edge of the bed, towering over him as you wrap your arms around his head. He holds you tight, laying his head on your chest and inhaling your scent. You stay there for a while, holding the other like it's the last time you'll ever hold each other.

You cradle his neck again, kissing him with a gentle sigh. His head tilts backward to give you the space, grabbing your waist as his thumbs trace your skin the same way your thumbs trace his cheeks. The more you try to break away, the deeper you make the kiss. His hands are so warm, and his lips are so soft. You'd be remiss if you didn't bask in him.

Spencer's lips slide off your own to kiss the corner of them, brushing against your jawline as you lift your chin to let him. He makes a sound in the back of his throat, a little whine. “I really need to go…”

You chuckle lightly, your breath thin the more he kisses your neck. “Go,” you sigh, the word quiet and half-heartedly, though not intended to be. “I'll see you tonight…”

His hands tighten on your waist, dipping beneath your shirt so he can feel your soft skin in his palms. He makes that sound again, dipping his head slightly to press open-mouthed kisses to your chest. Your lips part, shallow breaths passing through them as your eyes flutter shut at the feeling.

He pulls you closer to him, one arm around your back as the other bends your knee. Your legs wrap around his waist, and he holds you up with strong arms. “I have to go now,” he mumbles between heated kisses.

You nod, making no move to unravel from him. “I know.” A kiss. “Have a good day, honey.”

He bends down, laying you on the bed and ducking his hand beneath your shirt. His palm gropes your breast, his thumb tweaks your nipple. You gasp against his lips.

His free hand grabs at your waist. He kneads it in his palm, he presses his fingers into your skin. He brushes his knuckles over your flesh and smiles when you shudder. “Feel good?” he whispers.

You nod, carding your fingers through the hair at the back of his head. “Yeah. Really good.”

“Good,” he kisses your neck. His hand sinks lower, his finger hooking into the waistband of your shorts. “This okay?”

Your nod is quicker this time, more enthused. “Yes,” you breathe. “Yes, please.”

Spencer pulls your shorts down your legs, helping you take them off without once ever pulling away from you. He strokes your newly exposed skin, humming deep in his throat at the feeling of it. You hike your knee higher up his side, opening yourself up for him.

His hand dips between your legs, fingers curling around the inside of your thigh. He strokes a short line up and down.

A tiny curse slips past your lips. “Can you touch me, Spence? Just a little?”

He whines again, heavier breaths puffing from parted lips. “I want to,” he says. “But I have work, and–” He interrupts himself, leaning down to capture your lips.

When he pulls back, you're nodding. “Y-Yeah. Go, baby. Go work and then… then when you get back–”

He pushes a long, slender finger inside of you. Your breath hitches, your lips pressing messily together. You feel the slightest shake of his head, his nose bumping yours. A second finger joins the first, splitting you open as a moan spills past your lips. A tiny smile spreads his mouth.

You tangle your fingers in the hair at the back of his head, your hips lifting toward his hand when he thrusts his fingers gently in and out of you. “Ah, fuck, Spence.”

His mouth latches onto your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your skin, his teeth lightly grazing as his tongue darts out to taste it. Your hand tightens a bit to take a fistful of his hair. You don't yank his hair, but you can hear the tiny grunts that come out of him at the light tugs at his scalp.

His fingers curl inside you, pumping deep and slow and building up the more you gasp around him. “Does this feel good?” he asks breathlessly into the skin of your neck.

You nod, clenching around his fingers as your eyes squeeze shut. “Yes, baby. Please don't stop,” you sigh with each in and out of his fingers. The deep strokes are warm and inviting, like shining a light through your fingers to see it glow. You roll your hips to meet the movements of his hand, and reward his intoxicating thrusts with short gasps.

He presses the pad of his thumb to your clit, and you feel yourself giving in. His lips and teeth and tongue trace your collarbone, and you know he'll leave you today with a wonderful mark just below it to remind you of him (although he'll apologize and ask you if he hurt you when he sees it, then he'll kiss it better, which will lead to this all over again).

His fingers stroke deep inside you, curling and pumping and pulling your release closer and closer. He's coaxing it out of you with the kindness of beckoning a scared animal. He loves on your skin and whispers how wonderful you are and makes it more and more impossible for you to let him go all day long.

You wish you could spend forever wrapped up in bed with him. You don't even have to do anything. You would be completely and utterly content laying against him and talking, or letting him talk, or sitting in silence and simply enjoying his company.

A knot is building in your belly—one that you've become quite accustomed to feeling these past few weeks. The tighter it wounds, the deeper you breathe as you arch your chest into his mouth. He continues to embrace you, whispering, “That's it, angel. Just breathe. I've got you, I promise. I'm right here. Let go for me.” He coos your name like it's the sweetest thing in the world and smiles when you coo his back.

Your hands cradle his head as the knot snaps and sends a wave of pleasure over your body, taking you under and letting you breathe in the ecstasy. It's not explosive by any means, but it's warm and comforting and covers you in goosebumps as you card your fingers through his hair and pet him and hold him as close as you can as he continues to kiss and coo and curl.

Your breath shudders and shakes with the rest of your body, interrupted only by whimpers and the humming of his name on your lips.

Spencer pulls his fingers from the wet warmth between your thighs and kisses you with all the intimacy of your orgasm. You sigh into his lips and let yourself be taken by his consuming care.

“You're so perfect,” he whispers into your lips, kissing you in short pecks over and over and over again like he just can't get enough of you. “You know that? I used to believe that it is statistically and theoretically impossible for a human being to be perfect, but then you come along and destroy any idea of it that I've ever had.”

You both laugh, happy breaths in each other's spaces as you indulge in the other between more drunken kisses. “Guess that's why you call me angel.”

His smile rivals the sun. You don't think you can stare at him much longer, but you also don't think you could ever forgive yourself if you looked away.

“You are my angel,” he says, another kiss. Then a sigh of regret and, quite frankly, remorse pushes out from his chest. “And I have to go to work now. Hotch will be furious that I'm late again.”

You kiss him again, keeping it short. “Sorry for keeping you, doctor.”

He laughs. He's full of laughs when he's with you. “I don't regret it one bit.”

You help him tidy up once more so that he looks presentable again. You smooth out his clothes, comb your fingers through his hair, and kiss his cheek to avoid getting distracted again. You walk him to your door, arms around backs and tucked into the other.

He opens the door and turns back to you, picking up your hands in his and squeezing them gently. “I'll see you tonight?” His eyes sparkle with all the hope in the world. He's going to give you irregular heartbeats. You're going to get sick and die.

“Of course, handsome.” You lean up on your toes, hands on his chest as you peck his lips. It's short and sweet, he doesn't even have time to close his eyes. Yet when you sit back on your feet, his eyes are closed.

He smiles, lingering for a moment. He looks at you. “You didn't touch my neck.”

You chuckle lightly, patting his chest. “Well…we have a pattern.” You pull his bag back up his arm, resting it on his shoulder. “I'll see you tonight, Spence.”

He cradles your elbows, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles into your skin. “Bye, angel.” He gives you a dangerous kiss to your lips, and then he's gone.

You're left watching him walk down the hall, leaning on your door frame and smiling after him like some lovesick fool. To be fair, you are a lovesick fool. After all, your heart’s doing flips. You should schedule a doctor's appointment.

Criminal Minds taglist: @queermaxwooo @mdanon027 @lilianhallee @hpstuff244444 @thegr8estpuff @niktwazny303 @bubbles2300 @hiireadstuff @chloelmao67 @feyresqueen @hbwrelic @princess76179 @hc-geralt-23 @hits-different-cause-its-you Dr. Reid taglist: @swwanlake @imgonnaslurpu Tag yourself here...

[lesbikaiser]

hi hiiiii can i pls request reo losing the NNN? istg my purple haired rich boy needs more love >< thank u sm!!

hiii hiii my lovely! im glad to be feeding reo stans, he deserves it and so do y'all!

i almost forgot that nnn posts are supposed to be made in november and started writing this one like three days ago or so, i really hope you like it ><

mikage reo who engages in no nut november because he needs to prove you wrong. how dare you say he wouldn't make it to the end because he's used to "getting anything he wants." not that you're wrong though, but what does that even mean? he can't see any connections between having purchasing power and... cumming?

well, he could not see it, not until now. but it's as clear as day for him now that he's knuckles deep inside you, having your pretty body sprawled on his lap as you moan so perfectly against his chest, desperately riding his fingers like your life depends on it as you try and chase your high. it makes all sense in his head now, because watching you makes him so hard, throbbing dick bulging his shorts and the pre-cum leaking from his tip leaving a wet spot on his boxers. god, he would pay any amount of money to be let cum right now.

shit, it's been not even a week since you challenged him.

"reo– oh, reo! reo, reo, reo–! " it does nothing to help him how you call out for him so sweetly, his name like a mantra on your tongue, clammy hands gripping onto his shirt for dear life as your walls clamp down on his fingers, slick all over his palm and lap as your cute, needy cunt makes a mess on him, the way you look up at his face with big, doe eyes and fat tears pricking the corner of them really turns him on, his cock jumping and twitching at the sight.

he wants to fuck you so bad.

"gonna cum, reo–reo! please don't stop, reo..." your voice is high-pitched, thighs trembling around his wrist as your moans only get higher, needier, mixing with the squelching sound your pussy makes every time he plunges his fingers into your hole, reaching so deep and hitting your g-spot repeatedly.

why did he agree to finger you, again? surely he wouldn't be able to watch you falling apart for him without letting it get to him, he knows how much control you have over his body, so why is he doing it? did he really think he could take it?

but how could he ever say no to you when you asked him so prettily to 'please make you cum', with that sweet voice of yours? of course, that's why he agreed. he loves to spoil you.

he watches the way your greedy cunt swallows his fingers in, gripping onto them whenever he slightly pulls out to shove back into you, he can see the way they shine with your arousal, you're so damn wet, he bets he could easily slip his dick into that cute pussy of yours, he could be fucking and creampie-ing you right now and you could be moaning so louder, he would fuck you till you get too dumb to speak, only babbles coming from those pretty lips of yours, too fucked out to even think straight, the only thing in your head being his name...

he can feel his balls tightening at the thought, his body heating up and dick oozing more pre-cum from the tip, his boner is very obvious now and he knows you're too lost in pleasure when you don't notice how his cock is literally poking against your inner thigh, otherwise you'd have already teased him for being so hard when all he's doing is finger fuck you.

but how can he help it? you're definitely a sight to see, tits spilling from your small tank top with the way you arch your back, hips moving back and forth against reo's hand and your own fingers grabbing at anything they can – be it his sleeves, collar or just his shirt at all. he can feel your toes curling atop his thighs, and the outline of your nipples is very clear on the fabric of your clothing when you push your chest towards reo, lips parting to let out the prettiest moans.

he's mesmerized by the shape of your mouth, how your lips are a shade darker than usual because of the way you've been biting onto them, slightly swollen and so inviting, he feels like it's been ages since he last kissed you even though it was just a few minutes ago, he wants to feel your tongue against his, taste your spit mixed with his own. and it's like you've read his mind when you lean against him, arms draping over his shoulders as one of your hands fist his hair, the other caressing his nape so affectionately, he can practically see the heart-shaped orbs in your eyes as you stare at him, noses touching before you press your lips against his.

your tongue nudges his bottom lip before delving itself into his mouth, sliding against his own as you kiss him messily, spit running down both of your chins and your needy whimpers being swallowed by reo, teeth clashing a little due to how sloppy the kiss is.

he can't hold back a groan when you press your body further against his, unconsciously humping your thigh on his over-sensitive dick, his arm looping around your waist to bring you closer to him as his fingers work at a furious pace now, slick gushing out of your cunt and spilling everywhere, staining both of your clothes and it makes you roll your eyes when he curls his digits inside you, soft, warm palm touching your denied clit pushing you over the edge.

"mmph–! " your orgasm hits you like a train, electric waves shooting through your veins making your whole body writhe in reo's grasp, head thrown back and mouth agape with no sound coming out before you lean forward, resting your head on your boyfriend's shoulder as he helps you ride out your high, hand on your hair caressing your strands. you whine at the sudden emptiness in your insides when he pulls his fingers out of your sensitive cunt, slurred words leaving your lips. "love you, reo..."

you say it at the same time he pushes his digits into his mouth, tasting the residues of your cum on them, and that's his last straw. how you whisper so drunkenly against his ear, followed by a wet kiss on his neck and a cute whimper, your taste is so good on his tongue it makes him roll his eyes back, his dick twitches uncontrollably inside his shorts, load bursting on his boxers and soaking everything. he cums untouched, moaning pathetically onto your hair as his orgasm washes over him, not as strong as yours but enough to make his mind blank for a second.

you're too lost in reo's scent to notice anything, basking in the afterglow of your climax and breathing in his cologne, not really seeing the moment he comes down from his high and regains his senses. you giggle when he flips you both over, pinning your spent body down to the couch as his knees force your legs apart. a dumb smile stretches your cheeks when you bring his face closer to yours, arms still around his neck as you kiss him again.

this time though, it's him who shoves his tongue past your lips, licking at your mouth and stealing your breath as he devours you, you whine when your brain registers the taste of your cum, one of reo's hands gripping your thigh as the other pull his shorts down along with his underwear. it's only when you feel his slicked tip nudging your sensitive little clit that you open your eyes, breaking the kiss as you look confused at him. gazing down, you notice his shaft covered in an opaque, white liquid, as it sticks to your folds now that he's sliding his dick through them.

"reo?" the look on your face is priceless. the way your brows knit together, eyes slightly wide and a pout on your lips as you stare at his smirk, voice small when you call out his name. "did you– you came just from fingering me?"

he slaps his tip against your clit, smirk only getting wider when you yelp his name, hips writhing in his hold. "r–reo! what're you doing?" he doesn't even spare a glare at you, aligning his dick with your entrance as he watches your hole fluttering and clenching around his cockhead, desperate to be filled.

"it's already over for me, isn't it? so why not indulge in my wishes anyway? after all, i do get everything i want..." his purple eyes finally lock with yours, they're darker than usual and carry a hungriness you rarely see in them, you can tell how pent-up reo is from not being allowed to cum for the past days.

"and right now, my love, i wanna fuck that perfect pussy of yours."

[zoro-chwaan]

dudeeee i just read your oc x ftm reader with the like the stoner roommate oc and UGSHHGGHHG i loved it SO MUCJ YOU DONT EVEN KNOWWWWW and then i saw that it had been posted on my birthday and i was even more RAGHHDHHHDHHD and like. i physically need more idk if you'd be open to like writing more with that oc but like GODDDDD IT WAS SO GOOD THE WRITING WAS SO GOOD THE BUILD UP THE ACTUAL SEX FUFIJFNFJBFJFFKFNNFF FN anyways. peace out king/queen

Y’all ask, y’all shall receive. Sorry it took so long to get this done. I had an original second part that I was gonna do and post around November, but then I got a boyfriend, so now I lost my virginity and got more references ❤️ anyways enjoy ♡

Fem!s aligned dni!

Content warning: weed sex, choking (?), praise kink!, extremely short fanfic, yan! Oc (if you squint at it), toys mentioned

WC: 0.4k

•◦•◦────✦◦•✙•◦────✦◦•◦•

Slutty thoughts <3

Stoner emo boy who when you woke up was making you some breakfast and bringing it to your bed. He hums softly as he lays the breakfast on your lap, he asked you how you slept. In which you replied that you slept amazingly.

Stoner emo boy who got into a shower with you after your breakfasts. He makes sure to wash your hair thoroughly and softly as to not hurt you. He wants nothing bad to happen to you ♡

Stoner emo boy who after a week passed from the two of you fucking, he became much more sweeter and romantic with you. He also became a tease. What can he say? You look hot when you’re embarrassed.

Stoner emo boy who enjoys getting high with you since that’s when you get much more confident and get more handsy. He loves the way you run hands all around his body.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Stoner emo boy who loves having you in a doggy position while holding you in a chokehold. Oh how loudly you moan when he chokes you. Makes you get wetter and tighter around him ♡

Stoner emo boy who loves sucking on your nipples while having two fingers deep in your clit. As you arch your head back from all stimulation he’s giving. You let out a high pitched sigh as his doesn’t slow down, except it gets faster. Awe it’s okay! You can handle it ♡

Stoner emo boy who bought a vibrator to rub on your clit to see how much you squirm. He puts it on a higher level as he can tell that you’re getting close. He pushes two fingers in deep into your hole as he gets close to your ear and whisper how much of a good boy you’re being for him ♡

Stoner emo boy who pounds roughly and deeply into you while you try to hold yourself up, oh but how hard it is for you to pay attention when he’s abusing your hole for his own needs ♡

Stoner emo boy who when you asked for him to use you as a fleshlight he pounded into you much faster. You start to scream and he covers your mouth as you squirt onto his dick as he thrust a couple more times until he cums inside you

“I love you so much, Angel ♡” he says softly to your ear as you whine and close your eyes. Oh you’re his to keep forever and he can’t wait<3

[thewintersoldierdisaster]

a/n: hey there! i never actually planned on writing a sequel to ‘9 pm’ but a few anons asked about it and i liked the idea of giving them some happiness following that fic! the perfect title gave me the idea for the fic and here we are ☺️ i hope you guys enjoy!!

word count: 2.8k

tw: brief and minor mention of a miscarriage, pregnancy

direct sequel to 9 p.m. in vancouver

summary: andrei’s off on a road trip and you’re more exhausted than normal. once you realize why, you have to call andrei immediately

It’s barely ten at night and you’re falling asleep on the couch, Friends rerun playing at a low volume on the TV. Your blinks get longer, eyelids heavy, while Joey yells about the Coast Guard.

A yawn creaks at your jaw and you try to blink away some of the sudden exhaustion in your body. It doesn’t really work, another yawn catching you a few minutes later. You wrap your arms around one of the throw pillows, cheek smashed up against the pillow tucked under your head.

It’s been a long few days, work overwhelming you and Andrei up in the tri-state area for a mini road trip. The Canes had lost to the Flyers before beating the Devils. They’re currently up two goals on the Rangers, according to your NHL app updates, with just a few minutes left in the third.

The team will spend the night in the city before heading to Long Island for the second half of a back to back tomorrow.

It’s a grueling schedule so early in the season, four games in six days, and you know Andrei will be exhausted when he gets home on Monday morning. At least they’re off for two days before hitting the ice for a home game on Wednesday. You yawn again and decide vaguely that maybe you’ll go to the game, if you can keep your eyes open. It’s been a while since you went to the arena and you miss watching Andrei play live.

You can’t help but think briefly about the game in Vancouver last November, almost a year ago now, and your hand drifts to your stomach.

The baby would’ve been four months old, probably keeping you wide awake right now.

You don’t really think about the loss as much anymore, you can go long stretches of time without thinking about him - because you’d decided that it was a boy, even though it was too early to ever tell. Your due date had come around at the end of July and Andrei had spirited you out of the country, the both of you quiet and moody for a few days.

And then training camp had started and you’d gotten busy with work and then the season started and you didn’t dwell on the loss for a while.

But now it’s late and you’re tired and you haven’t seen Andrei in a few days and you should be cuddling a baby right now.

A few tears trickle down your temple and you swipe at them, emotion clogging your throat.

“God, get a grip,” you mutter to yourself, shaking your head slightly. It’s not even like you’re on your period to be so hormonal right now. Your brain takes a second to process the thought and when it does, your eyes widen and you kick your legs out, struggling with the blanket to try and sit up.

“Oh, oh my god,” you scramble for your phone, tossing blankets around until you hear the tell-tale thunk of the phone hitting the floor. You lunge for it, the TV remote going flying, but you barely pay attention to that as your fingers wrap around the loop on the back of your phone case and snatch it off the floor.

Your hands shake violently as you unlock your phone and thumb over to find your period tracker app. The app takes seconds to load, seconds where your heart beats wildly and your vision goes a little blurry. You mutter, “come on, faster, faster,” under your breath and suddenly the screen loads and there in the center of the screen, in bold font, is the notice that your period has been late for more than thirty days.

You’ve missed two periods.

Without even realizing it.

To be fair to yourself, after the miscarriage, everything was thrown off and you’ve only had seven or eight periods in the past year. So it’s not totally crazy that you didn’t realize you missed two cycles.

Your stomach lurches a little bit and you chew at your lower lip. You probably should take a test. But do you want to know without Andrei, again?

It didn’t work out so well last time.

You’re probably not even pregnant, you rationalize, it’s the stress of a new season starting and your body getting back to normal.

Never mind the fact that you’ve long been cleared to get pregnant again and your gynaecologist hadn’t said anything was wrong at your last appointment.

Your phone vibrates in your hand, nearly scaring the shit out of you. It’s just a notification from the NHL app - sometime in the last few minutes, while you’d been spiralling, the Rangers had tied the game and it was going to overtime.

Overtime anxiety is better than maybe-pregnant anxiety, so you tune into Bally, the sudden brightness of the glare off the ice making you blink. You’re half-heartedly paying attention, fingers tapping against your thigh while the players zip up and down the ice, trading scoring chances. Andrei’s on the ice for a shift and then he’s back on the bench. Pyotr makes a save and then another and then he doesn’t.

You frown at the TV, watching Andrei and the guys file off the ice, miserable for the team’s loss. You change the channel back to Nick at Nite, not interested in seeing the post-game analysis of the loss.

The audience laughter from the show echoes around the living room and you chew at your lower lip anxiously. Andrei won’t be back to his hotel room for hours, the post-game process already underway, but between media, a shower, and the travel. Well, it’ll be at least close to midnight before you can talk to him.

He’ll reassure you that you’re overthinking, that it’s nothing. But a quiet part of your brain is insistent that you’re pregnant and it just won’t shut up.

The smartest thing would be to take a test, find out once and for all if you’re even going to mention anything to Andrei. You’re pretty sure there’s no tests left after last time and if there are, they’re probably expired.

Your fingers tap at the screen of your phone almost by memory, the Google search showing that there’s a twenty-four hour CVS just a ten minute drive away.

The episode ends and another begins while you sit on that information, giving yourself a moment to imagine what you’ll do if the test is positive. He has to know immediately this time, you don’t think you’d be able to wait.

“Oh fuck it,” you mutter to yourself, pushing the blankets off your legs and getting up from the couch. Your vision goes fuzzy, briefly, the blood rushing from your head. You blink and everything shifts back into focus, your heart hammering a little.

Before you can overthink it, you turn off the TV and head for the front door, making a stop at the front hall closet to grab a jacket. Your fingers close around the sleeve of one of Andrei’s, the jacket dwarfing your frame as you slip your arms into the sleeves. You shove your feet into a ratty pair of Uggs and drop a faded Canes ball cap on your head.

You look insane, more like a college kid doing a walk of shame than a married woman, but Andrei’s scent embedded deep into the collar of his jacket is comforting you.

At CVS, you grab at the pregnancy test boxes like a woman possessed - Clear Blue, First Response, and the CVS generic brand all go into your basket, along with a bag of pumpkin shaped Reese’s Cups and a pack of Twizzlers. Something about the waxy, artificial strawberry ropes seems appealing right now.

Thank God for self-checkout, you don’t think you can face another person right now.

The pregnancy tests feel like they weigh a million pounds in the plastic bag and you gnaw anxiously on a Twizzler as you drive back home.

It’s well after midnight by the time you manage to drink enough water in order to pee on all the sticks and this round is more anxiety producing than when you’d done it over a year ago. Once you’re done, you set the timer on your phone and flip each stick over on the counter, so you can’t see the displays.

Instead of waiting in the bathroom, which is feeling small and stuffy despite how large it actually is, you pace around your bedroom for the few minutes it takes for your timer to count down. You wonder if you could call Andrei now, be on the phone with him when you look at the display, but if you’re not pregnant and he’s on the phone, he’ll be disappointed right before the next set of games. He’s been talking about it a little more lately, in the abstract, how nice it’ll be to have a baby one day. And you maybe haven’t been as enthusiastic as he’s been, so you don’t want to get his hopes up.

If you’re not pregnant, Andrei doesn’t need to know that you worried yourself into a tizzy over nothing.

But if you are? Well, Andrei will be the first call anyway.

The timer goes off on your phone and the sudden, shrill noise makes you jump. Your stomach lurches and you flatten your palm over it. Underneath the anxiety, there’s a little bubble of excitement growing, the thought of a baby providing a little spark of joy.

You wander back into the bathroom and close your eyes before flipping the tests over with shaking hands.

The plastic clatters against the countertop and you squint one eye open and then the other, vision focusing on the little displays.

“Oh!” You gasp, eyes immediately filling with tears, hands flying up to cover your mouth.

All three are positive, the little Clear Blue display declaring you ‘Pregnant’ in tiny letters.

Tears slip down your cheeks and you start giggling wildly, overwhelmed in the best possible way. Your hands press on your stomach, palms flat and fingers splayed.

“Hey there, baby,” you murmur, looking down. “Stay safe in there, okay? We want to meet you.”

The tears fall faster and you wipe at them with your shoulder, a damp splotch forming on the fabric of your sweatshirt. It’s so late, but you need to tell Andrei, and you move on autopilot, climbing onto your bed and finding your phone among the messy covers - the bed hasn’t been made in two days because Andrei is more of a stickler for that than you are and you like to get right back into the nest of blankets at the end of the day. It’s on your list of things to do before he’s back in a few days. Now, you pile yourself into a little cocoon of the blankets and comforters, warm and happy.

You text him first, just a quick ‘you awake?’ that you know he’s going to read as a request for phone sex.

True enough, your phone vibrates in your hand a few seconds later, Andrei’s name at the top of the screen. You grin and slide the bar to answer, “hey there.”

“Is late,” he replies, a faint laugh in his tone. “Thought you would be sleeping.”

“No,” you giggle, feeling a little unhinged. “Not asleep. Couldn’t sleep. Um, are you alone?”

Your husband laughs fully now, the sound echoing over the line. “Solnyshka, been a long day. I love you, but we have early morning,” he teases and the rumble of his voice makes you smile.

“No, not for that you perv,” you shoot back, twisting your fingers in a loose thread. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”

You know you’re sounding vague and strange, but to his credit, Andrei doesn’t call you out on it. Instead, he’s quiet for a second before your phone vibrates against your ear, signalling an incoming text. You pull the phone from your ear and tap over to your messages, laughing when you see the picture Andrei just sent.

The hotel room is nearly pitch black, but you can still make out the shape of Martin Nečas passed out in his bed with what looks like an eye mask covering his face. Andrei’s grinning face is cut off in the corner of the picture.

“Guess that’s a yes then,” you smile, bringing the phone back to your ear.

“Neci has earplugs in too,” Andrei informs you. “Says I snore, which is lie.”

It’s not, but you don’t feel like relitigating that particular point with him right now. So you move on.

“I know I should’ve waited, done something cute, but I’m bursting,” you let the words come out in a rush, feeling lightheaded with excitement. “I couldn’t, I had to tell you right away, Drei, baby, I’m pregnant.”

Andrei’s silent on the other end and a slightly manic laugh bubbles out of your mouth while you wait for him to say something.

“Pregnant?” He repeats, sounding like he’s just taken a blow to the stomach - winded and hoarse. “Like, with baby?”

“Yeah, mhm,” you hum, just letting the news soak in. Andrei’s breathing is audible in your ear, a soft ‘huh’ puffing out.

He starts to laugh and you can hear the grin in his voice when he says, “oh, solnyshka, fuck, I’m… ya chertovski schastliv.”

He slips into Russian and you’re not totally familiar with the words, but he repeats them in English, “I’m so fucking happy. Are you okay? How you feel?”

“I’m okay, I was feeling a little tired earlier,” you say. “That’s kind of why I took the test, just to see.”

Without asking, Andrei switches the call to a FaceTime and you pull the phone back, his grinning face taking up the entire screen. He looks lighter and happier than he has in months and the sight of him, of that smile that you love so much, makes you emotional.

“I wish I could kiss you,” he shakes his head, still smiling. “Hold you, something other than smile like idiot on phone.”

“I’m just happy to see your smile,” you say truthfully. A hug wouldn’t be unwelcome, but just seeing Andrei’s face has you calmer. “It’s late,” you continue, catching sight of the time in the top left corner of your phone - nearly 1:30 in the morning. “You should get some sleep.”

The adrenaline is starting to wear off now and you slump back against the pillows and headboard.

Andrei nods. “Call me when you get up,” he requests, phone bouncing slightly as he shifts on the bed. “We leave early, but call any time, okay?”

“Okay,” you promise, pressing your lips together to smother a yawn. “Hey, I love you.”

“Ya tebya lyublyu,” Andrei replies in Russian, warm and awed. “You and baby, both.”

You’re both quiet for a bit, comfortable and sleepy, reluctant to end the call. You just want to enjoy his long-distance presence and this little bubble, but eventually Martin lets out a snore on his side of the room, startling you since you forgot he was there. Andrei laughs faintly and reluctantly ends the call, after telling you he loves you again.

Now that Andrei knows, your whole body relaxes and you sink happily into the nest of blankets and pillows, curled up in a c-shape, one hand on your stomach.

There’s a million things to figure out in the coming days, weeks, and months, a million worries to ruminate on, but for now, you fall asleep with a smile on your face and pure happiness bubbling in your stomach.

The next morning, you snooze your alarm and allow yourself to wake up slowly and lazily. It’s an easy morning and you don’t plan on getting out of bed until you hear the doorbell ring.

With a grumble, you climb out of bed and shove your feet into a pair of slippers to pad downstairs, wondering who could be at the door this early.

It’s a delivery man, half-hidden behind a huge bouquet of flowers. You accept it, surprised at the delivery but not at the sender.

The oversized bouquet made up of baby roses, baby’s breath, and a few other types all in various shades of baby pink and baby blue can only be from your husband. Your face hurts from the size of your smile and you dig out the little card from between a pale pinks rose and a light blue hydrangea.

‘I love you, we will celebrate as soon as I am home. A hug and a kiss from New York for you, mama. -A’

It’s not Andrei’s handwriting, but you trace your fingers over the letters and feel tears well up. Any concerns or worries you might have about having a baby are pushed aside.

Andrei’s going to be the best dad and you’re so lucky to be doing this with him.

[rubysunnday]

but who could stay?

a/n: i'm erasing colin's 'lover boy' atttidue (or however you describe it) because it was the least colin thing i've seen imo. like, my man travels bc he doesn't want to be the ogling of the ton... anyways

summary: Every time Colin Bridgerton returned from travelling the world, there was always an urge inside him to run away again as soon as he could. There was only one woman who could make him stay. Y/N Barrett waited for Colin, but he never stayed long enough for her to tell him her feelings. Now she is engaged and about to enter a loveless marriage arranged by her parents. All she wants is for Colin to stay in London long enough to realise the truth of their relationship.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

masterlist | tip jar

Every year, after the debutantes had walked in front of the queen, there was a garden party. Open to everyone, it gave the debutantes an opportunity to further make their mark on the ton as well as allowing other attendees to catch up with friends after a few months away from London.

Colin had been away for longer than just a few months. As soon as Anthony had married Kate, he had been on the first ship over to France.

It wasn't that he didn't like London - he did. Nothing would ever compare to his home city - the gas lamps in the November fog, the bright blue skies after days of endless rain.

Yet, he never felt at peace in London. There was always an urge inside him to up and leave. To travel as far away as he could and not stop until he fell off the edge of the world.

Perhaps it was fear of comitting to a life in one place. Perhaps he was just trying to escape the future that had been planned out for him since he was born.

Perhaps, he had yet to find a reason to stay.

Now that he was back in town, the urge to leave had resurfaced once again. Everywhere he looked, women were staring at him, debutantes were waving and gaving him coy smiles.

Colin awkwardly smiled back and then promptly turned around. He always felt uncomfortable when the attention suddenly became solely on him. He wasn't entirely sure why - he liked women and he liked flirting - but when every woman in the ton came at him at once, it felt predatory.

He knew they were only interested in him for his money (or what he had left of it) and his name. None were interested in Colin the Explorer or Colin the Writer.

Except one.

"Colin!!" Y/N Barrett exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as he walked toward her. "You are back at last!" She reached up and wrapped her arms around Colin's neck, pulling him in for a tight but quick hug. "You could have told me!"

"Apologies," Colin said, smiling at her as she stepped back. "I only just made it back in time for Francesca's debut."

Y/N's gloved hand trailed down his arm. "I am glad you are back," she told him, squeezing his hand once more before letting go. "It has been dull without you."

"Anything exciting happen whilst I was gone?" Colin asked, offering his arm to Y/N - a silent invitation to promenade around the gardens.

"Well, Alice Carey got married to Lord Carlson and then promptly gave birth to a son about four months later." Y/N raised her eyebrows at him. "Easy math there."

"Indeed," Colin muttered. "Has anyone called her bluff yet?"

Y/N shook her head. "No, she has been 'unwell' the last few months and has yet to reappear amongst the ton." She tilted her head to Colin and lowered her voice, "but rumour says she is pregnant yet again... with another man's baby."

"Has Lady Whistledown written of these rumours?"

"You and I both know she will not," Y/N replied with a quick roll of her eyes. "Not only had she not been seen since last season, she has changed her column entirely and now writes exclusively in support of the debutantes! I do not understand how you can go from writting rumours and scandal and causing the public downfall of several well known figures to... well, promoting other women!"

"Perhaps she has had a change of heart," Colin suggested.

"Leopards rarely change their spots, mon ami," Y/N said softly. "Anyway, enough about scandal and rumour," she extracted her arm from his and turned to face him, "how are you?"

Colin stopped walking. He looked at her, her gentle smile, her bright eyes. "I am... okay."

"Just okay?" Y/N asked, her brow furrowing slightly.

"I want to leave again," Colin admitted quietly. "Already, women are staring at me and eyeing me up as if I am their dinner. It makes me incredibly uncomfortable, to be honest. I know that all they want is Colin Bridgerton and not just Colin."

Y/N gave him a sympathetic smile. "Does it help that I am only interested in Colin?"

Colin found his lips curving up into a smile. "It does," he told her, "more than I can say. Which reminds me."

He reached a hand into the pocket of his coat - a coat that Hyacinth had kindly nicknamed his 'pirate coat' - and pulled out a dark velvet bag pulled taught by a silver tassel. Colin held it out to Y/N and she took it with her lilac gloved hands.

"You bought me a present?" Y/N exclaimed, holding the bag as if it was glass.

"I did not want you to feel left out," Colin said, his smile widening as Y/N stared in awe at the bag.

"Colin, it's beautiful!"

"Oh, the bag isn't the gift," Colin said quickly. "The gift is inside the bag."

Y/N's cheeks burnt with embarrassment. "Oh, yes, of course."

She carefully pulled open the bag and turned it upside down, tipping whatever was inside into the palm of her hand. Out tumbled a pair of silver embroidery scissors, engraved to look like a bird.

"Oh, Colin, they're gorgeous," Y/N whispered. "Where did you find them?"

Colin's smile grew. "A shop in Spain. They had other types but... well, they were different."

He had to confess, he was utterly delighted at her reaction. He knew Y/N loved her embroidery - she had endless baskets of thread and material and often sat in the park working on her current project. For his birthday, Y/N had gifted him a hand embroidered waistcoat featuring different birds and flowers from across the globe. Colin had taken it with him on his travels, wearing it as often as he could.

So, when he had seen the little embroidery scissors in the store, he knew he head to buy them. He had carried them around for six months and now, finally, they were in her hands.

"I have needed new scissors for a while," Y/N told him, her eyes still focused on the scissors. She gently turned them over in her hand, the metal glinting in the sunlight. "Thank you, Colin."

A voice interrupted the moment, carrying across the garden. "Y/N, my love."

Y/N looked over her shoulder, giving the man who had called her name a smile.

"Who is that?" Colin asked, looking at the man - who was signifcantly older than Y/N.

Y/N sighed as she turned back to face him. "Mr Catesby. The man I am courting," she told him softly. "Mama set us up. I have been out for three years and she expected me to be married in year one and having a baby by year three."

She was trying to smile but Colin could see that it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Do you love him?"

"I do not think love is possible," Y/N told him, glancing over her shoulder again. She turned back to Colin. "Friendship, perhaps but never love."

Silence fell around them for a moment. All Colin wanted to do was reach out his hand and hold hers. But he knew he couldn't. This was how it would be from now on - always near his side but just out of reach.

"I should go," Y/N said softly. "Thank you, again, for these. I will cherish them, I promise."

Y/N turned around and, with one last glance over her shoulder at Colin, walked toward Catesby and her future with him.

Colin couldn't look away. He knew he should because, really, what was staring going to do.

Y/N didn't look happy or sad as she stood next to Catesby, putting her arm through his. Whilst she smiled and laughed, none of it reached her eyes. She was pretending and Colin was the only one who could tell.

"You have to look away at some point," Francesca said softly, appearing at his side.

Colin swallowed heavily. "I know."

Francesca reached down and held his hand gently. "Why won't you?"

"I don't know," he eventually replied, forcing himself to look away and at his younger sister. He forced himself to grin at her. "Come along, I'm hungry."

Days turned into weeks and soon Colin hadn't spoken to Y/N for over a fortnight. He had seen her across the room at parties and balls, always at the side of Catesby.

Even though she wasn't happy, she still looked beautiful. Her dresses shimmered in the candlelight and when she did laugh, Colin could just picture her smile along with it.

Ever since he had found out she was being courted, Colin had retreated into himself. He spent long hours in his study, writing and drawing and wondering about what could have been.

His heart broke that little bit more the night of his mother's ball when Catesby announced their engagement. Y/N had smiled, sparkling under the lights once more in a dark blue gown and matching silk gloves. But Colin knew better. He could see how tense she was, how loosely she held Catesby's hand in hers - the way her eyes kept straying over to him.

Benedict and Anthony flocked him as they approached to give their congratulations. They bowed together and Colin was grateful that his brother's did all of the talking - speaking loud enough and quick enough so that neither Catesby nor Y/N's parents noticed Colin's silence.

Y/N did, though. She held his gaze the entire time and there was so much sadness within it, so much regret, that Colin nearly ripped her from Catesby's grip and pulled her to his side, threatening the man with a duel if he dared come closer.

Instead, he maintained his silence, giving a brief bow when they were finally dismissed. Colin refused to look back, focusing his gaze on the table of lemonade and sweet treats jutting out from the far wall.

"Colin, are you alright?" Benedict asked, raising his eyebrows slightly at his silent brother.

"Yes, why would I not be?" Colin said, picking up a glass of lemonade from the table.

"You are being unusually sullen and silent," Benedict replied.

Colin turned around to face his brother. HIs gaze flittered past him and over to Y/N. "Nothing's the matter."

Benedict caught Colin's wayward gaze and turned his head. His own gaze softened a little as he turned back to his brother. "It isn't too late," he said quietly.

Colin laughed humourlessly. "Really? She is an engaged woman, Benedict."

"Were you even around last season?" Benedict raised his eyebrows. "Anthony almost married someone else entirely - he got as far as the altar, Colin."

"That was different?"

"How so?"

Colin let out a frustrated sigh. "Because it just was. Who is to say Y/N would even be interested in my hand?"

"Who's to say she wouldn't?" Benedict looked at his brother. "Answer me this. Every time you come home, you immediately have the urge to flee again. Do you still have that urge when you're with Y/N?"

The silence that followed answered Benedict's question perfectly, Colin knew that. He eyed his brother. "I cannot do that to her, Benedict. I cannot."

"Well," Benedict sighed, "you are a better man than me, brother." He squeezed Colin's shoulder and turned to go, leaving him alone by the refreshment table.

Colin looked over at Y/N again. She had moved and was now walking onto the dance floor, hand in Catesby's. It hurt him more than he was prepared to admit. Yet, it would be so easy to walk over to her and take her hand from his - to confess all his feelings in a flurry of words and doe-eyed expressions. But the scandal that would cause - the ramfication's that could have on Y/N... Colin couldn't do that to her.

It would also be easy to simply walk away, leave the country and pretend he had never met her. Colin knew that nothing he did would ever mean he could forget her. He thought about her everywhere he went, from the churches of Florence to the waters of Athens.

Colin groaned quietly. He tilted his head back and swallowed the rest of the lemonade in a big gulp, wincing at the bitter taste. He set the cup down on the table and stepped away from the wall.

Weaving through the crowds, he spotted his eldest brother standing by the open french doors, Kate by his side. Colin heistated for a second, not wanting to darken Anthony's door with his issues. But the last time he had struggled with issues of the heart, he had given him some startlingly clear advice and he needed that again.

"Colin!" Kate exclaimed, her eyes lighting up as he approached. She pulled her arm from Anthony's and hugged Colin tightly.

Colin squeezed her back as hard as he dared, knowing Anthony was watching his every move like an over-protective swan. "How are you?" He asked, reluctantly letting go.

Kate puffed out her cheeks, hand straying to her stomach. "Coping," she replied. "He, however," she nodded at Anthony, "is not."

"I am allowed to be stressed," Anthony muttered, hand resting against Kate's waist. "It is very overwhelming, but exciting," he added, noting his wife's worried look.

Colin instantly felt guilty. He knew Anthony was overwhelmed. Trying to run the household, keep an eye on Francesca and Eloise all whilst being concerned for his wife and unborn child was more than enough trouble.

"What's wrong?" Anthony asked, noting Colin's distant gaze.

"Oh, nothing," Colin told him with a shake of his head. "Sorry, I should -"

Kate reached out and grabbed his hand by the wrist, pulling him back to them. "Colin, stop." She gave him a gentle smile, cupping the side of his cheek with one hand. "Come, let's go for a walk."

Kate put her arm through Colin's and let him lead her out into the gardens of Bridgerton House. It was still daylight, though the sun had descended. A few couples stood around the grass and patio but it was otherwise quiet.

"I assume this is about Y/N," Kate said, pulling her purple silk shawl tighter around her arms.

Colin nodded, leaning against the stone balustrade. He crossed his arms, a heavy sigh escaping him. "I do not know what to do. I should have stayed, made my intentions clear but I did not and now... now I do not know."

Kate pushed herself up and onto the balustrade, sitting on top of it, her feet dangling down. "What is your heart telling you to do?"

"To steal her away from him and marry her tonight," Colin admitted. "But I cannot do that."

"Why not?"

"Because she is engaged. I cannot bring that scandal to her, Kate, I just..." Colin closed his eyes. "What if she does not return my feelings and I ruin her one chance at marriage?"

"But what if she does?" Kate said softly. "What if she does return those feelings and she spends the rest of her life with you rather than a man she does not love?"

Colin looked at her. "Can I take that risk?"

"Anthony and I were plagued by scandal last year," Kate said quietly, hand resting on her slightly swollen stomach. "Things should never have gone as far as they did but it did not stop us from finding our true happiness. If you want her, Colin, then go and get her. She is right there, waiting."

Five minutes later, Colin was back inside the house, searching everywhere for any sign of Y/N.

He still wasn't sure if he had the courage to tell Y/N the truth. Whilst he knew she wasn't happy, happiness was a minor issue when it came to marriage. The status and money Catesby would give her was more than Colin could ever hope to offer in a lifetime.

But he could give her happiness and he could give her love. Surely, that was worth something?

Yet, as he stood against the landing wall, watching Kate and Anthony waltz together, he knew what he had to do.

Y/N stood by herself, near the table laden with food. Colin spotted her as soon as he walked down the stairs. She wore a dark green gown, one that matched his jacket perfectly.

He tried to approach her first thing but his mother grabbed his arm and whisked him off in the opposite direction, gabbling at him about eligible women and debutantes and flowers.

Y/N had noticed Colin as soon as he'd walked in the room. His jacket matched her dress and all she wanted to do was approach him and ask him to take her far away from here.

She was overwhelmed with wedding preparations and plans for her to move to Catesby's estate in Dorset. Her mother had not allowed her a moment's peace. Sleep refused to come at night and Y/N lay awake, regret and panic growing inside her as the date of her wedding grew ever closer.

The engagement had been a shock. Y/N herself had not actually spoken the word 'yes' aloud, her mother had done that for her. She had blindly followed along, allowing Catesby to place the ring on her finger and brag to his friends that he would soon be a father.

A father. Never mind a husband or a man in love. Just a father.

Because, whilst he was not a bad man, all Catesby wanted was a son to continue his line. That was all Y/N was to him, all this relationship was to him - making an heir.

Y/N had known this marriage would never be one built on love. But a foolish part of her had hoped that, maybe, they would find love together. Seeing Catesby now, flirting with other women and bragging to his friends, she knew that there would never be love.

She plastered a smile to her face as yet another person approached her to congrulate her on her engagement. Exhaustion was beginning to pull at her body, the sleepless nights and endless trips to the modiste finally catching up with her.

"You could at least try and look happy," her mother muttered, suddenly appearing beside her.

Y/N sighed softly, blinking the pull of sleep away. "Sorry."

"Honestly, when was the last time you slept, you look dreadful."

Thank you, mother Y/N thought, trying not to roll her eyes.

"I need you to look beautiful for this wedding," her mother continued, "there is a lot riding on this marriage for this family. Do not mess it up. Ah, Lady Cowper!" Y/N's mother crowed, rushing over to greet her friend.

Y/N needed to leave. She glanced around the room, checking that everyone was preoccupied and then made a swift dart for the corridor running behind the stairs. The room had been warm when she'd walked in but it had only gotten hotter in the hours since. Her head was aching, her heart was pounding and her hands would not stop shaking.

She didn't know what had come over her. There was no reason for her to be acting like this - all she was doing was getting married. But there were so many things wrong with the marriage and with Catesby and with her mother's obsession of wanting a grandchild that Y/N could not go through with it.

The corridor was quiet and signifcantly cooler than the ballroom. Y/N leant her back against the wall and took a deep breath in, desperate to calm herself down and reinstate her happy facade.

"Y/N."

Of course, Y/N thought, turning her head and watching Colin Bridgerton approach her. Of course he appears now.

"Colin, I do not -"

"I have to talk to you," Colin said firmly, coming to an abrupt stop at her side. "Please."

Y/N closed her eyes. She felt sick. The pounding in her head was only getting worse and she couldn't remember the last time she had eaten anything.

"Please, Y/N, I beg -"

"Yes, alright!" Y/N exclaimed, silencing Colin. "Come with me."

She led him back up the stairs - not an abnormal sight since many guests had seeked solace in the front room of Bridgerton house - and down the corridor into an empty room.

"Colin, whatever you want to say to me, please make it quick," Y/N told him, pushing him into the room and pulling the door to. "I cannot disappear from my own engagement party for long."

"You do not love him."

Y/N frowned at Colin. "I told you this earlier -"

"Just... say it again."

"No, I do not love him," Y/N told him, her voice soft. "But that does not mean I can walk away from this marriage."

"What if you had someone else to walk to?" Colin asked, moving toward her.

Y/N stared at him. "Colin, what do you... why..."

"The reason I travel, Y/N, is because I have never felt at home anywhere," Colin said. He took a deep breath in, steeling his nerves and forcing himself to not back down. "Every time I came back, I would have the urge to run away again until I reached the edge of the world. But each time I came back and I saw you, I suddenly felt as if I finall had a reason to stay."

Y/N felt as if all her air had been stolen from her. She stared at Colin - that was all she could do. Here he was, confessing his heart to her and all she could think about was how angry her mother would be, how much scandal it would cause and also how much the room was beginning to spin.

"I could not let you go off into this marriage without giving you a choice," Colin continued, moving a step closer. "I love you, Y/N, I have done for a long time. I wish that I had not spent so long away because maybe things could have gone differently. Perhaps this would be our engagement ball instead. Perhaps it still can be.

"I know that this is asking a lot of you and I know that with this choice scandal will come. But I will stand by you through it all, Y/N. No matter what the ton say, no matter what they do, I will not leave your side. You deserve to be happy and you deserve the right for this to be your decision."

Y/N looked at Colin. Hope was clear as day in his eyes. She had wanted this confession from him for so long and here it was. The circumstances were awful and scandal was calling and her parents would hate her and the ton would give her the look they reserved only for the worse offenders and -

"Y/N? Are you alright?" Colin asked, concern replacing the hope in his eyes. Her skin had lost colour dramatically quick and she was beginning to sway.

Y/N swallowed, nausea growing. She blinked, looking past Colin and at the window. No, that too was spinning.

"Is the room spinning for you?" Y/N asked, her voice quiet.

Colin frowned. "No. Is it for you?"

"A little," Y/N admitted. "I think I might need a moment."

She took a step forward but the room tilted dramatically to the side and hazy black spots filled her vision. Y/N mentally braced herself to hit the carpeted floor and for her body to ache but hands wrapped around her waist, guiding down.

Colin knelt on the floor, resting Y/N's back against his chest. He was never great when it came to dealing with poorly people - his siblings could attest to that. He himself was a terrible patient, incapable of waiting until he was better and always pushing himself before he was ready.

But this was Y/N - his Y/N. Her skin was clammy and lacking colour and her hand was shaking as she tried to grip his. And he had no idea what to do.

They couldn't simply stay in here, someone else might walk in and then there would be a whole other scandal.

Then, an idea came into Colin's head. There was one place he knew no one would stray into. One place that would shield them for just a little longer.

"Come on," Colin whispered. "I've got you."

He put one arm around her shoulders and slipped his other under her legs, lifting her up into his arms. With one foot, he nudged open the door. The upstairs corridor was quiet. Colin snuck out, keeping his footfall as light as he possibly could.

His bedroom wasn't far away. In fact, it was only three doors down the corridor. As he pushed open the door, Colin thanked his past self for forgetting to close the door properly.

It was cooler inside than it was anywhere else in the house. His windows were open, the net curtains blowing gently in the summer breeze. A small fire crackled in the hearth, giving off enough light to chase away the darkness.

With as much care as he could, Colin lay Y/N down on his bed, laying her head on his pillow. He absently brushed his fingers along her cheek as he straightened and her eyes slowly opened, looking up at him.

"Has the room stopped spinning yet?" Colin asked, sitting on the edge of the bed, his hand resting against her leg.

Y/N hummed softly. "Partly," she told him. "I still feel awful."

"When was the last time you ate?"

"I do not remember," Y/n replied. At Colin's raised eyebrows, Y/N let out a tired sigh. "Mama has kept me so busy and I have hardly slept these last few weeks. Oh, Colin" she said, her head finallycatching up with what had just happened, "I can only apologise for -"

"Do not be silly," Colin told her, reaching up and taking her hand in his. "Our bodies can only handle so much."

"But fainting? That is just... mortifiying!"

Colin chuckled. "When I was in Spain, I fainted in the middle of dinner with a very important noble because I had spent too long in the sun and not looked after myself. My face was bright pink and sun burnt and I felt awful for days after." He shook his head, laughing softly. Colin squeezed her hand. "What I am saying is that we all forget to look after ourselves sometimes. You have a better reason than me, however."

Y/N pushed herself up, letting Colin pull her forward until she was sat cross legged on the bed. He kept a steady hand on her upper arm until she gave him a reassuring smile, confirming that she wasn't about to spontaneously collapse again.

"If this engagement is making you this unwell," Colin said quietly, "is it worth it?"

Y/N sighed softly. She rubbed the pad of her thumb back and forth across Colin's knuckles. "No, it is not."

"Then what is holding you back?" Colin asked. He leant his head forward, seeking her gaze. "Tell me."

"I am scared," Y/N admitted with a small shrug, looking down at the bed. "I am scared of the consequences that will come with calling off this engagement."

Colin gently tilted her chin up until she was looking at him. "What else? Because there is something else, I can tell."

Y/N swallowed heavily. She closed her eyes for a moment. "My mother is determined to make this work," she said softly, opening her eyes again. "She keeps reminding me about how much is riding on this marriage, the things it will do to our family. I am terrified of her reaction if I do not go through with it. What if my family disown me? That will be an even bigger scandal than calling off the engagement!"

"What if she does not?" Colin suggested. "What if everything falls into place?"

Y/N shook her head. Her eyes were glistening with tears as she looekd at Colin. "But what if it doesn't?" She asked quietly, her voice almost lost to the night air.

"Then I will stand by your side no matter what," Colin replied, taking both her hands in his. He held them as if they were the most precious things in the world - because they were. "No matter what happens, you will always have me and you will always have my family, I promise you."

Uncertainty still lingered in Y/N's eyes. Colin knew he was asking much of her but she deserved a happy, loving marriage with someone who loved her. She desered to have a choice.

"You deserve to be happy, Y/N," Colin said softly. "Do not ever think otherwise."

"You promise to stay?" Y/N asked, her voice quiet and small. She looked at him. "Because, every time I thought I was ready to tell you I loved you, you disappeared, Colin. Then, I wouldn't see you for months and... I cannot do this if you are going to leave me again the moment we are married."

Colin leant forward and pressed a kiss to her forehad, his right hand holding the back of her neck. "I promise," he whispered, leaning his forehead against hers, "to never leave you again. Together until the end of our days."

Y/N smiled at that, relaxing into Colin's hold. "Okay," she said, her voice certain for the first time all night. "Are you going to ask me, then?"

Colin released her and stood up from the bed. He moved over to his desk and pulled out a drawer, rumaging through it until he found what he was looking for.

"I picked it up in Florence," Colin said, coming back over to the bed. "Because I had decided that when I got back, I would take your hand as mine. I thought for a moment I would never get to do this but..."

He trailed off, looking up from the ring box. Y/N was still sat on his bed, her smile slowly growing. Colin clicked open the lid and knelt down on one knee, extending the box out to her.

"I know I left and for that I am deeply sorry," he said quietly. "It took me this long to realise that you were my reason to stay. So, Y/N Barrett, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?"

Y/N nodded, her smile reaching her eyes and crinkling the corners. "Yes," she whispered, holding out her left hand, "of course I will."

Colin pulled the golden band out, the moonstone set in the centre catching the light of the fire. He slipped it onto her finger, pleasantly surprised to discover that it fit perfectly.

"Perfect fit," Y/N said, holding her hand up. She looked back at him. "It is as if it knew."

Colin grinned. He took her hand in his, thumb trailing over the ring. "Perhaps it did."

[slut4thebroken]

Locktober

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Robert Fischer x reader

Summary | It’s day 11 of Locktober and you got Robert a ‘present’…

Warnings | Smut, chastity, prostate milking, orgasm denial?, praise, he’s whiny obviously, humiliation, mommy kink obviously.

Words | 2k

Notes | I can’t stop writing sub Robert lol. Also sorry if this is bad💀 I’ve never written this before lmao

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

Kinktober | day 11: prostate milking + chastity

“I have a surprise for you, angel.” You called out, walking into the living room with a small paper bag in your hand. 

“What is it?” He asked curiously, closing his laptop without hesitation and putting it on the coffee table. You sat down next to him on the couch and placed the bag on the floor, then pulled him into you. He immediately wrapped his arms around you and laid his head on your chest, making you smile. 

“How has Locktober been treating you so far?” You asked innocently, but couldn’t hide your smirk. 

“Wanna come…” He whined, nuzzling into your cleavage a little. 

“I’m sure I can make that happen, sweetheart.” You chuckled, already planning what to do with him. “Can you pull your pants down for me, love?” You asked, still holding him. Since it was his day off and he didn’t have any plans, he was wearing sweatpants, so he quickly pushed them and his underwear down to his thighs. “Oh… look at you.” You cooed, reaching over to trail your finger down the cage with a small smirk. When you cupped his balls, his breath caught in his throat and he hugged you tighter. They just looked so big and swollen— so full of come… “I think you deserve your present now, baby.” 

He whined when you got down on your knees, but that protest ended the second he saw you take off your necklace that had the small key on it. He was frozen in anticipation, not wanting to accidentally say or do anything to make you change your mind. You unlocked the cage and slowly pulled it off, making him breathe a sigh of relief. 

“You’re really gonna let me come?” He asked timidly, worried it was a trick. 

“Of course, baby.” You removed the ring that was around his cock and balls, then reached for the paper bag, not wanting him to have a chance to get hard so he’d actually fit in his new ‘gift.’ When you pulled out a new, smaller cage, his expression fell and you almost felt bad for him. 

“But…” He whimpered. You ignored him and put his balls and then his cock through the ring. Then you started trying to fit his cock in the smaller cage. “Mommy..” He whined pathetically, squirming a little. 

“Quit it. Or I’ll make you wear it through all of ‘No Nut November’ too.” You warned, making him frown. 

It took a little while for you to be able to squeeze his cock down enough to lock it, but once it was on, you placed the new key on your necklace and secured it around your neck again. 

“How does that feel, baby?” 

“Small..” He muttered, very obviously sulking. 

“Keep up the attitude and I’ll change my mind about making you come.” You said menacingly, but he just pouted. 

“I can’t come in this.” He scoffed quietly, making you immediately smirk. 

“No?” You asked rhetorically, a devilish grin gracing your lips. “Let’s find out then. Up.” You commanded, getting to your feet as he joined you. Without another word, you walked off toward the bedroom, trusting that he was following you. “Clothes off. Face down, ass up on the bed.” You ordered. While he undressed, you grabbed lube and a hand towel, then made your way back over to him. 

“Do I really have to wear this for the rest of the month?” He frowned, staying in position, but turning his head to look back at you as you settled on the bed behind him. 

“Of course not. You have to wear it until I decide you can take it off.” You said plainly, giving him a teasing smile. You laid out the towel between his legs on the bed, already knowing how messy this would probably be— it’s already 11 days into Locktober and Robert hasn’t had a single orgasm since you put the cage on him, so you knew he had a lot of come built up. 

“Ready?” In response, he whined and jutted his hips back, making you chuckle quietly, “Do you even know what you’re getting yourself into?” As far as you know, Robert hasn’t ever been with someone who’s dominated him the way that you do… He probably still thinks he’s getting an actual orgasm. 

“Please.” He whined, arching his back even more and pushing his hips closer to you. Rolling your eyes, you circled a lubed finger around his rim, then pushed in slowly. He whimpered into the bed and you placed a hand on his hip, trying to comfort him. 

“That feel good, baby?” You cooed, making him mewl and nod wordlessly. You pushed a second finger inside and didn’t bother fingering him the way you normally would to open him up. Instead, you immediately zeroed in on his prostate and started rubbing slow circles over it. 

“F-Fuck, I…” He choked out, body twitching, unconsciously trying to escape the overwhelming pleasure. You shushed him quietly and continued the slow, steady pace with your fingers. “Oh god…” He sobbed. His legs were trembling and he couldn’t hold back his sounds so he kept his face buried in the sheets to muffle them. A few drops of precum were already starting to leak from his cock onto the towel. 

“Let go, angel.” You urged gently. His breathing picked up and he was pushing his hips back, trying to fuck himself on your fingers, despite already feeling overwhelmed with the sensations. 

“Mommy,” he whimpered pathetically. 

“I know, baby. Just let go— I’ve got you.” You cooed. Almost as if on command, the milky liquid started dribbling out of his cock, landing onto the towel below. “Oh, good boy…” You moaned, using your thumb to add extra pressure on his perineum, causing him to cry out.

“It hurts..” He sobbed, making you smirk. You knew that getting turned on while his cock was physically unable to become erect would be uncomfortable, probably even a little painful… That’s why you liked it so much. 

“I know, angel, but you’re doing so good.” He wasn’t actually coming, that much was obvious just based on how tortured and desperate his sounds were. But this would hopefully alleviate the ache that had steadily built up after not coming for so long. 

You pushed a third finger in and applied even more pressure, forcing an anguished moan from him. His cock was still leaking and you regretted not getting a bowl or something because, with how much he had already ‘come,’ the towel was pretty much useless now. 

“You know… I didn’t have to help you. I could’ve left you aching and full of come.” You said suggestively, hinting at what you wanted from him. 

“T-Thank you.” He whimpered. 

“What was that?” 

“Thank you,” he cried out when you landed a sharp smack on his ass and quickly corrected himself, “Thank you, mommy!” 

“For?” 

“For helping me..” He whined, no doubt blushing furiously. You chuckled, savoring how pathetic he looked and sounded. 

“This must be so embarrassing for you, isn’t it?” You mused, making him whine. “Having your cock locked up… needing mommy to drain your balls just to give you a tiny bit of relief…” He let out a choked sob and you smirked, satisfied that you were furthering his humiliation. 

“Mommy…” He cried weakly, flinching away from the relentless assault on his prostate as his release continued pouring out of his cock in a steady stream, landing on the soaked dowel. 

“C’mon, give me a little more and you can be done.” You urged gently. He whined and shook his head, trying to protest, but his leaking cock gave him away— There was still more and you were going to milk every last drop out of him. “You should see yourself, baby.” You chuckled quietly, making him whine again. “Your poor balls look so swollen… Do they still hurt?” You cooed mockingly. 

“Yes, but… not as much.” He whimpered. 

“See? I told you I would help you, angel.”

“Wanna come..” His voice was so quiet that you almost didn’t hear him. 

“What are you talking about? I’m milking all the come out of you right now.” You said coyly, unable to hold back a smirk. 

“Wanna come for real.” He whined. 

“I’m sure you do, sweetheart, but you still have 20 more days until Locktober is finished and then another 30 for No Nut November.” You said cruelly, making him sob out a moan. Robert could safeword at any time and this would all stop immediately, but you knew he wouldn’t because no matter how much he claimed it hurt and he couldn’t bear it, deep down, he wanted it. He craved being owned by you— completely. 

“Keep being my good boy and I’ll milk you every week or two. I don’t want my baby to be in too much pain.” Any kindness that might’ve been in your voice was completely overshadowed by the real meaning of your words; he won’t have any orgasms for two months, but you’ll be ‘nice’ and occasionally give him a prostate massage to make him ‘come.’

After another few seconds, the stream leaking from his cock slowed into a sporadic trickle, then stopped completely. You gently pulled your fingers out of him and he let out a soft sound, but was focusing mostly on catching his breath. 

“Turn over on the other side of the bed.” You instructed. He seemed glad to give his quivering legs a break and rolled to the other side onto his back. “Look at the mess you made.” You said teasingly. He blushed and bit his lip, staring at the soaked towel. When he looked away sheepishly, you let out a quiet chuckle and carefully picked up the towel, then walked it to the bathroom, setting it in the sink for now. You quickly made your way back to the bedroom and joined Robert on the clean side of the bed, pulling him into your arms, letting him lay his head on your chest. 

“How are you feeling, angel?” You asked softly, petting his hair. 

“Needy.” He mumbled against you, making you laugh quietly. 

“I know… but you’re my good boy, aren’t you? I know you can do it.” He let out a soft sound and nuzzled into your chest to hide his blushing face. “But…” you added, talking slowly to make sure he was listening, “if you feel like you can’t do it, I don’t want you to hesitate, okay? I won’t be upset or disappointed.” He turned his head so his chin was on your chest and he was looking up at you. “Honestly, I didn’t even think you’d last this long.” You chuckled and he gave you a shy smile. 

“It’s hard, but… wanna be good for you.” He said sheepishly, making your heart practically melt. 

“Yeah?” Sometimes his unwavering devotion and submissiveness made you a bit nervous. Robert was the first person you’ve ever been with who actually gave you this much control over him and you weren’t really used to it. Part of you found the responsibility a little nerve wracking, but for the most part it was just endearing. It made you feel so special that he trusted you so much. 

He nodded with a blush and you cupped his cheek, brushing your thumb over his bottom lip. “Good.” You murmured, dragging your gaze all over his face. “Do you want to help me get off or do you want to lay there and watch?” 

“Wanna help.” He said without hesitation, but you could see the way he was pouting, feeling jealous that you were able to come while he wasn’t. 

“Good boy. Go get the strap then. Just because you’re locked up doesn’t mean you can’t fuck me.” You smirked, making his frown deepen. “Unless you’d rather watch me use my vibrator instead…?” He immediately got up to go retrieve the strap, along with your favorite dildo, and you laughed quietly at his eagerness.

[co-psycho]

Face Sitting with Eren

a/n: hey guys….sorry for not posting in so long, I’ve been having reader block for so long. Like seriously I’ve been just putting of writing for like 3 whole months now. After the voting I did start writing the FaceTime call smut story with Eren but I literally just don’t know what to add so I’ll try to get it out before the end of November.

Since I’ve been keeping you all waiting for so long I’ll just post this to make up for the long wait.

I was also asked to post an Armin twitter link so that will be out soon too.

Cw: Oral sex f! Receiving

“Are you sure about this?”

He could hear the doubt that was lingering in your voice. Nervousness and shock was spread throughout your face as you look below him.

His lips brush against your softly as you grind on his lap. You feel his warm hands gliding up the sides of your body slowly, holding onto you tightly as if you might slip away.

The kiss was passionate and slow. A smile slowly creeped onto his lips. He was going to ask for something. You just know it.

“Baby”. Can we try something new?”

And now you’re here hovering your slick over his face. The embarrassment rushes over your face as you imagine what you probably look like.

“If I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t have asked you and don’t feel pressured into doing this, we can stop if you want”.

“No…I want to try it”.

His face now had a big smile planted on his face. “Ok so sit”.

He was laid flat on his back on the bed you both shared. “What if you can’t breathe?”

“I’ll tell you if I can’t breathe”.

“What if I’m too heavy of what if you get hurt?”

He found it cute how flustered and worried you were getting. You were asking so many questions, to many in his opinion.

“Baby, I promise if anything doesn’t seem right I’ll stop you right away. Ok, don’t stress over it so much”.

You take a deep breath before nodding your head yes.

You slowly lower yourself onto his face. When you finally lay fully on his you feel his arms wrap around your thighs.

The air from his nose was slow and steady.

You gasped when you felt warmness lap at your clit. He tongue licked at your clit slowly, teasing you for his pleasure.

The thought of sitting on your boyfriend’s face and there being a possibility of killing him or injuring him somehow frightened you.

You remember ‘if I need to breathe I’ll tap you’ Erens words.

You fully let your weight sit on him. The feeling was weird. You could feel every time he shifted his head. His nose bumping your clit every now and then.

He licked and sucked at your clit sooo slow, it was driving you already into a frenzy. His nails pierced your skin once he got a good grip and pace.

You slowly start to ruck your hips forwards and backwards riding his face. The friction of rubbing against his tongue was started to become a little overwhelming.

Your hips started to become steady as you moved faster on his face gripping his dark brown locks.

The feeling of your most sensitive part of your body on top of his face made you and eren have feelings you’ve never felt before.

It was a sense of connection that was yet so intimate at the same time.

That warm heat was building up so quick, you’ve never experienced almost coming un done so fast. Leaning yourself more back you rubbed at Eren’s strained cock in his pants.

He shooed your hand away when you fingers started to trace the hardened outline of his cock in his pants.

His cock was straining and begging to be touched or get any source of release. Pants that were once loose become tight from his hard cock. Pre cum was starting to stain his pants from being so turned on by your beautiful and soft moans slipping from your lips.

Your hips move faster as you felt your orgasm approaching fast, grabbing onto your tit you twist your harden nip that makes you moan louder.

He held onto your legs tightly as you started to squirm from the warmth in your slit that was starting to grow more and more.

Your legs began to shake from overstimulation. The firing surge of your orgasm whelmed through your body, feeling hot and heavy as a breath you didn’t even know you were holding was let out.

You rolled onto the other side of the bed panting heavily. Catching a glimpse at Eren his cheeks were flushed red, his nose down to his chin was covered in your arousal. You watched as he licked his lips and looked over at you.

“Did you like it?” He asked between each breath.

You nodded your head as a smile creeped onto your lips. “We should do that again sometimes”. You said shyly.

“Let’s do it again…right now”.

It’s pretty short but I’m surprised I even finished it

Anyways I hoped you enjoyed

[vinylfoxbooks]

November 19 - Familiar | @into-the-jeggyverse | wc: 548

“Regulus!” James calls, setting the cup down on the counter. Seeing the dark haired boy that walks up to the counter -- a recent and upcoming regular of theirs that James always makes for -- they smile softly at him, “You look familiar.”

The boy looks up at him from where he was previously gazing at his phone, his cup now in hand, “I’ve been coming here for the past several weeks, I’d be shocked if you didn’t recognise me by now.” 

And James, charmed as the may be by his tone and passive aggression, is intent on figuring out how he’s seen this man before. It’s been on their mind for weeks, but they’ve never been able to figure it out, and they’re sure that they’ve never met or been around someone named Regulus, “No, you look… I feel like I’ve seen you before I started working here. Maybe in school?”

“You must be crazy,” the man shakes his head, “I doubt we’ve gone to school together.”

“But how can you be sure? What school did you go to?”

“Hogwarts Academy.” 

James beams at him, “And you’re sure that you don’t recognise me, I went there too.” 

“There were a lot of people there, the fact that you barely recognise me says a lot about that.”

James shakes their head, “There were a lot of people there, but I feel like I would remember such a beautiful face… Were you… what house were you in?” 

“Slytherin.” Regulus hums, roving his eyes over James after a second, “I take it you were a Gryffindor… or a Hufflepuff.”

They smile softly, shaking their head, “I was a Gryffindor, yeah.”

“There’s another reason I wouldn’t recognise you, I spent much of my time there actively avoiding you Gryffindors.” 

And James is about to say something else, but they’re interrupted by the chime over the door and Sirius strutting into the cafe, “Reggie! Good to see you.” Regulus makes eye contact with James before turning around to face… 

“Your Sirius’ little brother!” James says, finally putting the pieces together, “Oh my God, you look wonderful. I don’t know how I didn’t figure it out before.” 

“I have been actively trying to stop you from figuring it out,” is the last thing that Regulus says before turning to his brother and attempting to distract him. Sirius calls a cheery goodbye to James before Regulus manages to pull his brother out of the shop. 

Regulus doesn’t show up to the shop on his normal days for a while before he finally does start venturing into the cafe again. It also seems like he’s avoiding James being the one that makes his drinks or takes his order, but Lily is kind enough to write down James’ number on the cup the next time that he comes in. Regulus gives James a look, but they pretend to not notice and continue to focus on making the drink for the next person. 

Regulus texts them a couple hours later, Took you long enough to figure it out. I don’t look that different. And James can’t help the stupid grin that blooms on their face. It’s been so long since they’ve seen the sweet younger Black and they’re thrilled for more now that they have another chance with him.

[ultralightpoe]

What Is This Feeling? -Yelena Belova

Authors Note: Hate this but it's gotta escape my Drafts. I wrote this back in November when the soundtrack was released, and I hated it. Such a great concept I just couldn't make it work -Ultralightpoe

Warnings: Red room, torture, death.

Word Count: 5k words

Description: You and Yelena could never agree on anything while sharing a room in the red rooms.

Main Master List - - Marvel Master List

[Thank You For The Gif @ahumannamedmaddison ]

Enjoy!

x Song Inspo x

Dearest, darlingest Momsie and Popsical

My dear Father

There's been some confusion over rooming here at Shiz

But of course, I'll care for Nessa

But of course, I'll rise above it

For I know that's how you'd want me to respond

Yes

- 

“Dear father,” The words are scribbled in a haste, just as they had always been since Yelena had been brought back, torn between anger and a friend that a girl of her age wasn’t yet meant to feel. A few months ago she would never have had to have written these letters at all, a few months ago she would just now be waking up to the sound of her sister getting ready for school and their mother scrambling to collect their schoolwork. “There has been a bit of a change in my rooms.  I had been hoping they would send Nat in to be rooming with me, but that does not seem to be the case. I will keep my eye out for her though, I swear is papa. I know you would want us to keep an eye on each other and I will not let you down.”

She takes a deep breath in, trying to ignore the tight feeling in her throat as her hand shakes a bit, willing herself to calm down and try not to get too worked up. Once she is sure she would not ruin the page she pressed the pencil down once more. “My first test comes in less than a month. And even with the changes I will make sure to do good. I’m sure that this obstacle they have presented me is just another one of their hidden tests. I will not let her win.”

“Is Yelena writing to her papa again?” A teasing voice sounds out, drawing Yelena's attention to behind her where you currently stood, leaning on the doorframe of her room. Correction, your new shared room.  “Has he answered a single one of your letters so far?” 

“They said you would be coming in tomorrow morning.” She snipped out, eyes narrowing as she stood, her chair screeching against the floor of the room. 

“Had to move it up. Slight issues.” You huff, stepping into the room and pretending to look around, using this move to show the bruised knuckles you were holding. ‘Slight issues’ when spoken about you meant that you had taken the time to attack your former room mate. It was commonly known you enjoyed attacking your sisters. “You never answered my question. How is your papa these days, Lena?”

“Eat shit.” She responds, deciding she won’t feed into your current instigation, choosing to turn back to her desk and take her spot on the page once more. 

As she writes she can hear you toss your bag down before making a scene about moving your desk chair out and taking a spot yourself. Making sure she hears you open your own desk, slapping your paper upon the surface of the wood with a mocking whiny face. 

Don’t let her get to you, Lena. She could practically hear Tasha telling her. Be the bigger person. 

“DEAR PAPA,” You read out loud as your write, making your voice as whiny as possible. Yelena grips her pencil tight to keep calm. “PLEASE COME BACK AND SAVE ME! NO ONE LIKES ME AND I AM TERRIBLE AT ALL MY LESSONS! WAH WAH WAH-”

“Cука!” Yelena screams out, throwing her chair back to use it as a stepping stone in a higher launch at you. You catch her easily before knocking out her feet and trapping her in a head lock. 

The fight is messy, your are both all over the room throwing weak and chaotic punches that never hit their mark properly. By the time the guards manage to separate you the room is a disaster and there are bruises and scratches covering both your faces. 

You both get punished that night. Not for the fight or the room. But for not winning. 

Yelena vows she will never lose to you again. 

- 

There's been some confusion for, you see, my roommate is

Unusually and exceedingly peculiar

And altogether quite impossible to describe

Blonde

- 

It took 2 months to break the great Yelena Belova. Just 2 months before the two of you were standing before your instructor trying to bare out your sides of the story. Well….. She was. You couldn’t seem to give two shits which only seemed to aggravate her even more. 

“She is a reckless waste of space!” Yelena scoffs, eyes swinging to where you stood with your arms placed behind your back waiting for this to be over. “She ruins everything she touches-”

True, you had taken just about everything that crossed the border into your shared room and destroyed it. Soaking books, ripping blankets, breaking glass. This was a great way to build up her anger. 

“-She has no respect for my studies-” Once again true. But Yelena was insane with how much she worked. You would hear her wake up at 3 am just to stretch and workout before your morning lessons at 5. A fucking teachers pet. 

“-She is the worst. She has no cares of her grades or her standing in class. She is impossible. Impossible to describe. Impossible to deal with. IMPOSSIBLE.” Her words brought a smirk to your face as your shoulders lifted a bit more. True, true, true , true TRUE. Yelena was hitting every point. But she was missing the bigger picture. 

“She will never be able to work with another Widow.” And ring a ding ding. The Russian doll finally hit the nail on the head, hard enough that even your instructor's eyes seemed to widen. 

You would never be able to work well with anyone. You were a waste of potential. A future threat. Because as much as Yelena liked to talk about you not caring for your courses she couldn’t claim you weren’t a natural talent. Which you knew was a sore wound for the teacher's pet. 

But you also knew a bigger sore wound of hers. Alexei…. Natasha….. The good American family. 

You had a wound to match, not that anyone had ever bothered to ask or care. Not that anyone could see. You just moved on a little better then Yelena had. You swore to yourself the day you were hauled back that they would never want to send you out on another mission again. 

“What do you have to say to her words?” Your instructor asks, turning to you. “What do you think of her?”

You kept a bored look placed onto your face., turning to look at her with a light shrug. “Blonde.”

She yelled out “CYKA!” Once more, a word you now knew meant bitch in russian, before launching to attack you on the mat. You dodged easily, only to get struck down by your masters cane. 

“You will learn.” He seethes, some spit flying from his lip as he lifts the cane. 

By the time you got back to your room Yelena was in far less of a mood then when you both had been called in, choosing to organize her side of the room while you babied your broken bone on your side. 

“These things would not happen if you cared.” She mumbled out, tearing an eye roll from you. 

“Alexei would have come back for you if he cared.” You sneer out, turning to keep your back to her so that you wouldn’t have to see the look of devastation she was never able to hide. Yelena bared all her emotions on her face, she had yet to learn the trick of hiding them. And you had yet to learn not to react to tears springing from others eyes. 

These were not your sisters. You were taken from your sisters back in France, dragged into a van screaming and crying. You would not treat anyone in here as if they were your family. 

Your main mission was to be killed before you had to kill them. 

Before that the only thing that kept you from giving up was the thought of your family, that they would put up missing posters of you and go out searching. That they would find you one day and you would be able to go back home and this was all a bad dream. 5 years, and you had given that up. Now you kept the one goal. Be killed before you kill. 

If that meant Yelena was pissed about you ripping up her blanket then so be it. She would be real angry tomorrow when she found her pillow torn to shreds, broken wrist or not. 

- 

What is this feeling, so sudden and new

I felt the moment I laid eyes on you?

My pulse is rushing

My head is reeling

Yeah, well, my face is flushing

- 

“Yelena, you are taking well to your lessons.” Mistress Kusnetsov compliments, clapping her hands happily as her gaze follows Yelena across the room. She looked almost gleeful in watching the younger girl perform. Maybe it was because one of her students was learning so well, or maybe it was because she enjoyed watching people live a dream she was never able to after her ankle was snapped. 

You try not to flinch as you watch her limp to where Yelena now stood in her final pose from the dance, running a hand across her hair before clapping once more. Yelena turns to look at you, a gloating sort of look spread across her stupid face that sent you into a rage you never quite understood. You just wanted to do something to wipe that look off of her smug  face, something to ruin her mood like she always managed to ruin yours these days. 

A year, it had been a year since you became Yelena Belova’s roommate. The star pupil. Perfect marks in all her lessons, the grace of a gazelle when she danced. She had passed every single test she was given and her mission marks never went down. Blah blah blah fucking blah. 

She was a thorn in your side that was beginning to fester. 

You enjoyed it when she was out on missions because that meant the room to yourself, but everytime she came back you found yourself suffocating in that damn room. Every move she made had your pulse rushing. Every word sent your head reeling. 

She was a constant pain. 

And she was beginning to aggravate you more and more. 

“Find yourself a partner everyone. Run through your stretches.” Mistress calls out, clapping her hands together before moving to take her natural spot in the front of the room. You waste time watching her walk, nearly jumping forward to help her when she flinches a bit and you can see her leg shake a bit, the urge to help hitting you harder than you thought was normal. 

She turns once making it to her podium, narrowing her eyes when she catches you already looking before a slight gleam fills them when she takes in the room. “Yelena, you. Partners.”

“Shit.” You mumble as Yelena whirls on you. 

“No.” Yelena groans, but it was no use because while you wasted time seeing if the mistress needed help everyone else has paired up. 

“BEGIN!” She calls out and the room immediately fills with chatter as everyone begins working on their stretches. 

“Shall we actually work or are we going to waste time with you pretending you suck at everything?” She asks, circling around you as her accent sinks into your skin. 

“I just wouldn’t want to step into your spotlight.” You huff out, eyes tracking her as she glares, allowing her to circle so that you could try and trip her up. “Oh Yelena aren’t you so perfect. Yelena please sit by me at lunch-”

Your foot snaps out to catch her ankle, kicking her off balance with a swift move that makes her gasp out before stepping to the bar to begin your stretches. 

“You wouldn’t be so bad if you tried, no?” She asks, moving to stand behind you and follow your pattern. “Maybe you be worth something?”

“What is the big deal about being worth something?” You laugh. “So I can end up torturing girls when I grow up, limping on a hobbled foot and watching them like hawks for any mistake?”

“I’m sure Mistress had a wonderful career-”

“You’re a fool. Always have been Yelena.” You snap, turning to face her. “You feed into the propaganda, always so desperate to be needed-”

“You ruin everything, because deep down you know you can’t keep up.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Fine.” You snip, shoving her back before turning to the front. “Mistress, might I give my presentation now?”

It was a foolish thing, to let one teacher see you exel. To let her know that you were excellent in what you were being taught. But you would do anything to wipe the smug look off of Yelena’s face. And so you do, once everyone goes along the sides to watch and Mistress plays the music you allow yourself to blend with it the way your mind always loved to do. 

One Prose, a quad pirouette, ballotte on pointe. You manage all the moves as easily as the wind catching by a river. 

And when you hit the final pose you don’t bother to look to where your mistress is clapping ecstatically, you look right to where Yelena stood on the sidelines, the smug grin of hers now set into a scowl. 

And the feeling of pride from that look is far too addicting to never see again. 

- 

What is this feeling, fervid as a flame?

Does it have a name?

Yes

- 

The competition takes form then, catching like a flame on wick. Before you never played along, sure you did things to get yourself in trouble but that never worked anymore, you were just littered with scars that never got you anywhere. 

But pissing Yelena off? That made everything worth it. 

Sharp shooting? Yelena scored well, you scored better when you managed to shoot within the same wound 4 times. 

Sambo? You both made it to the final mat, which is when you brought her to the bat with a swift 3 moves. 

Over and over, every lesson, non stop. Everytime Yelena gave you that smug smile thinking she had won, you found ways to ruin it. 

- 

Loathing

Unadulterated loathing

For your face, your voice, your clothing

Let's just say, I loathe it all

Every little trait, however small

Makes my very flesh begin to crawl

- 

You know Yelena is up to something the second she enters your shared room without muttering any of her Russian curse words out, choosing to head to her side and begin organizing everything. You watch for a moment, trying to figure out her game before giving up and turning back to keep memorizing the words from your novel as she begins to hum out a tune you didn’t recognize. 

She begins getting louder and louder until you can’t even pretend to ignore her, slamming your book shut and turning to her with a sigh. “Why so cheery, Yelena?”

“Oh no reason.” She smiles, shrugging her shoulders, turning to look at you with yet another famed smug expression. “I was just packing for another mission.”

A thrill shoots through you for a moment at the idea of her not being in the room for a minute before you stop short, eyes narrowing as you try to figure out her game. “And why is that cause for gloating?”

Something in her expression snaps as her head tilts, and you realize that she was trying to figure out your game the same way you were trying to figure out hers. “I just figured you would be interested to know, even with all your brilliant marks you still weren’t chosen for the mission.”

“Good for you Yelena.” You had no want or need to ever go on a mission. None. 

“You’re not at all upset?” You loathed the way her head tilted like a cat when she was targeting you, the way your face would flush as you tried to think through arguments. 

“Not at all.”

“You’ve never wanted to go to Peru?” 

“Is that where they are sending you? How exciting.” You smile, moving back to pick up your book, showing that you didn’t care.

“America, Ireland, Romania?”

“This is going to be a long mission, would you mind if I pushed your bed over here to make a larger one?” 

“I’m only getting sent to France.” She bites out, shoulders dropping as she realized she had lost the fight, only hitting the mark at the very end. 

Your shoulders tighten and you sit up straight, by the time you realize you were showing all your emotion it was too late because she had already seen it and that gloating smile was back once more. 

“You wanted to go to France?”

“I’ve already been.”

“You’ve never been on a mission.”

“I’m from there.” You snip, the tears welling into your eyes as you shove past her, slamming the door shut loud enough the decoy frames in the hall rattle as you storm down to the training center. 

- 

With simple, utter loathing

There's a strange exhilaration

In such total detestation

It's so pure, so strong

Though I do admit it came on fast

Still I do believe that it can last

And I will be loathing, loathing you my whole life long

- 

The pain in your shoulder was extreme, every move sent a sharp pain up your arm that was harsh enough it had you seeing blind spots, knees nearly caving in as you struggled to keep upright. Blood was pouring from your nose and you were struggling to keep up with your partner on the mat today. 

“PAY ATTENTION!” Your master shouts, slapping the mat as he watches you both circle each other for the third time. She was going easy on you, she was babying you during a punishment. This was the perfect time to knock you out and take her prize but Malyra had always been a bit too into the sisterhood, always wanting to protect each other.

“Just do it.” You sneer, trying to crack your neck only to get another twinge of pain that had you gasping out. Her face morphs into guilt, but then she jumps out like a viper, wrapping around you and slipping you both enough to send you to the mat. 

You managed to pass out from the pain, the black void greeting you like an old friend. 

And you were at peace….. Until you woke up to the sight of Yelena Belova above you. 

“Hello old friend.” She smiles, tilting her head in that catlike way that had you groaning out. “Now now, is that anyway to greet your friend who moved you from the infirmary to our room?” “Eat shit, Lena.” You snap, closing your eyes. 

“You know, it was odd when I came back.” She begins, making herself comfortable by sitting by your thigh, patting you in what some would think was comforting and you knew to be condescending. “I come home from mission and no one greets me and I think maybe I did something wrong. Then I remember that I am Yelena and I do no wrong.”

“Lena please.”

“Then I find out that you try to escape and they break your shoulder. Cyka, stupid.” She snaps, growling out that last word. “You have gone months without punishment and you choose while I am gone to do so?” 

“Eat shit, Lena.” You sigh again, trying to turn away from her as she begins ranting all about how aggravating you were.  “Enough. ENOUGH. Okay.”

“No not enough. You let Malrya beat you.” She growls. “You beat me last mat and if she beat you then that puts her on top. Stupid!” “So let me get this straight….. You come back to find out I had been punished and lost a fight but you’re not mad cause I put myself in danger but you’re upset that I ruined a standing?”

“Yes.” She nods, yet when you look at her something in it just seems so…. Off. 

“Welcome back, Lena.” You sigh out, struggling to sit up. 

“Cyka.” She mutters, allowing you to pass by her with a brush of your shoulder before you stop and turn back. 

“How did the mission go?” You asked because something felt off, you asked because this wasn’t Yelena staring at you now. 

“It went fine.” And she tried to smile, and for the first time in a long time you felt a little bad for Yelena. 

- 

Dear Galinda, you are just too good

How do you stand it? I don't think I could

She's a terror, she's a tartar

We don't mean to show a bias

But, Galinda, you're a martyr

Well, these things are sent to try us

- 

“You don’t understand Yelena.” Someone whispers. “She never listens to orders.”

“She isn’t loyal to Hydra.”

“She will get you in trouble.” Over and over they all seem to whisper, and you try not to think too hard into it as you scarf food down, casting your eyes across the room anywhere you could. Something was off today and you were trying to figure it out. 

The headcount for lunch was off, at least 24 girls are not here when they should be, and the guard to girl ratio was off as well, 1 guard to every 5 girls when normally those numbers were reversed. Odd. 

Your thought process is cut off by Yelena plopping in the seat right in front of you. 

“Before you start I am only sitting here so I don’t have to talk about my mission, so do me a favor and eat shit. Yeah?” She snaps out, raising a hand to stop you from talking even though you hadn’t even opened your mouth. “Be grateful I am here. People are beginning to talk about you like you are a sore thumb.”

“A sore thumb?”

“You are danger. Risk. No good.”

“Is it me or is the accent getting thicker?” 

“Maybe. Maybe I push it more cause I know it annoys you.” She smiles and you roll your eyes, pretending like she wasn’t sitting right in front of you and choosing to look past to keep watching the guards pass back and forth.  “You need to actually eat, you just shovel it down and you never actually chew-”

“Do you see what I see?” 

“I’m not a lunatic,” She scoffs. “So no. I do n-”

“Look. The way the guards are moving around and the way there are less of them. And look how many grades we are missing.”  

“Grades?” 

“Other years. I need you to keep up.” You sigh, trying not to roll your eyes as she pulls a judgemental face. “Older years. Natashas age. They are all missing today.”

That seems to snap her to attention, the fork in her hand falling with a clatter against her tray. She looks around the room quickly, noting everything you just mentioned before turning back and looking at you intently. “How you see that?”

“Not all of us are pompous.” You mumble back, standing up with your tray when you see you only have about 3 minutes left for lunch.  You had a routine, get out before anyone else so that you could make it to your dorms without too much ridicule these days. 

But today  would not seem to work in your favor. 

A shout at  the end of the hall pulls your attention, and Yelena stops beside you to turn and see right as one of the guards summons you. 

“I think he means me.” Lena sighs out, moving to walk in front of you before the guard snaps out, “Not Belova. Just the other one.”

For the first time since you had moved into the same room Yelena looks downright shocked, and not in the competitive way she normally carried, but this time in a panicked sort of fear.  “Will you be alright?”

It’s spoken in a whisper, and you almost hadn’t heard it, but confusion takes hold because why would Yelena ever be worried about you? 

Choosing not to answer, instead walking past to follow the guard. Though if you knew that you would be getting your first mission you never would have followed. 

- 

Poor Galinda, forced to reside

With someone so disgusticified

We just want to tell you, we're all on your side!

We share your loathing

- 

There was blood on your hands now, you would never be able to go back. 

There was blood on your hands and no matter how hard you scrubbed it wouldn’t wash off. 

There was blood everywhere… everywhere…. Blood…. Blood…. Blood…. 

“She killed Malrya.” Someone whispers, catching your attention to the shadows that took place under the door of your rooms, feet that belonged to people trying to get a glimpse in the room to see the widow that had killed another. 

“Oh Yelena. You need to request a move -” The door swings open, the blonde that you had known for 5 years now coming into view before slamming it quickly.  Her glare is quick, immediately finding you in the room as she crosses it to stand at the edge of your bed. 

“You want to talk about it?”

“Red.” You blurt, keeping your gaze on your hands rather than looking at her. Looking at the wrapping that had been placed from the welts and sores you had formed with the amount of times you washed your hands. You had just wanted to get the blood off your hands, you just wanted to clean the stains off. 

“What’s red?” She asks, and you were going to be sick based on the way her tone softened in a way she had never used with you before. She reaches a hand out, grabbing one of yours to turn up and inspect your palms, thumbing at the wrapping.  

“That’s…. That’s all I saw.” You explain, pulling your hand away. “Lena, i’ve never had that happen before.”

“I don’t understand….”

“It was like a fog. Mentally I was begging her to kill me to just get it done and over with but I couldn’t say the words. It wasn’t me moving my body, I was merely watching from behind a red fog.” You sob, standing up to escape where Yelena was standing. “Everything I worked for. All the punishments and ways out of missions- I never w-wanted…..”

Any attempts of escape were mute because within a moment Yelena had you wrapped in her arms, pulling you in until you were both sitting on the floor, allowing you to cry as she held you close.  

- 

What is this feeling, so sudden and new (unadulterated loathing)

I felt the moment I laid eyes on you? (For her face, her voice, her clothing)

My pulse is rushing (let's just say)

My head is reeling (we loathe it all)

- 

“Tasha is gone.” Yelena whispers the next morning, laying beside you in your bed, staring up at the ceiling with her hand woven in between yours. She had kept a tight grip since you both landed in the bed last night, refusing to let go even when you got silent. Firmer in those moments actually. 

“What do you mean?’

“Dreykov. His daughter was killed and Tasha was a part of it. She got out. She escaped.” 

“What does this mean now?” Your voice doesn’t break over a whisper as you turn your head from the ceiling to look at her, feeling more broken than you ever have before. 

“I think it means you… have been right. And I hate to say it.” And damn it if that didn’t make you laugh even in the worst moment. 

- 

Oh, what is this feeling? (Every little trait, however small)

Does it have a name? (Makes our very flesh begin to crawl)

Yes, ah, ah

- 

You were out of breath as you hit the mat, back hitting with an extra thud as the pain laced through your body, Yelena standing above you with a quizzical look as she tries to process what exactly had gone wrong. 

The mat room was empty at this time of night, which is why Yelena and you always found yourselves here. Where no one could see you both and what you were trying to do. Trying to see what the red fog was, and every time you got your ass kicked without a hint of it coming out you found a festered sort of anger building up. 

Over and over, Yelena beating you to a pulp and you trying to see what you had seen the day of Malrya…. Malrya with her devastated look when you-

“Get up.” Yelena breathes out, stepping back. “We try again.”

“No. No more.” You complain, closing your eyes as your turn over to your side in attempt to lift yourself up, climbing to stand up.  “It’s useless and you know it.”

“No it isn’t. Let’s go again.” 

“What if I lied? Or what if I made something up to make myself feel better?”

“You didn’t.” She seethes. “You didn’t and we both know you didn’t. You used to instigate fights all the time, I always hit first and no matter what you said you did because you wanted to take the blame. You used to rip apart everything I owned but you never once touched my letters to Alexei.”

“Lena-”

“You would never kill Malrya. You gave Malrya extra biscuits at lunch when you thought no one noticed.”

“But on the mission-”

“I believe you.”  She seethes. “I know you. And I believe you.”

“Aren’t you afraid I might do the same thing to you one day?” It’s a question that has been heavy on your mind for a minute, a haunting presence looming behind your neck. 

“You want to know what I am afraid of?” Eyes filled with tears Yelena moves closer to you, hands coming up to your arms to keep you in place. “I’m scared that one day you will be sent out and I will never see you again.”

“But we hate each other.”

“We do.” Her hair bounces a bit as she nods, but then she leans forward and allows her lips to press into yours, the two of you melting into each other. And maybe the way you melted into each other so perfectly was the scariest thing of all. 

-

[Never finished this…… whoops?]

[scariusaquarius]

rehab. 16.

Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Winter Soldier! Fem! Reader

Summary: While on a mission to find any more possible super soldiers that were a part of the Winter Soldier program, Steve and Bucky make a discovery in an abandoned HYDRA base that was cleared out a few years prior to their mission. They discover the Reader, a long-forgotten soldier that was still asleep within a functioning cryostasis pod; still awaiting orders. While Bucky isn't happy about it, he is put up to the challenge of helping to rehabilitate the soldier in Wakanda where she may be able to become a person again.

-

A/n: SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. Shit got real for me. I'm going back to college!! It's been a bit of a ride since my acceptance and enrollment, so I haven't had a lot of time to write. But i promise i'm back and comin in swinging!! Now we're gonna get into Nat's part of the big mission, and then we'll be back to Bucky and our soldier <3 Also, if you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee! If you would prefer to read Rehab on Archive, you may do so right HERE!

This is an au where Bucky joined the avengers but still rehabilitated in Wakanda (sometime before Infinity War [canon divergent cause NOPE]). I am NOT fluent in Russian, so I did use google translate cause I couldn't find a good translator that I trusted. If anything is wrong, PLEASE let me know!! Also, I tried to list as many warnings as possible so you know what the story will contain as chapters are posted. Stay safe!

-

Genre: Slowburn, Enemies to Lovers/Friends to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor, Drama, Dark Content Rated: Explicit Warning: Angst, Dark Content: Graphic Depictions of Sexual Assault, Blood and Gore, Mentions of Manipulation, Kidnapping, Canon-Typical Violence, Body Horror, Nonconsensual Body Modification/Scarring, Emotional and Physical Abuse, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts/Ideation, Graphic Depictions of Human Remains, Mentions of Sexual Coercion/Manipulation, Death, Misuse of Drugs/Forced Drugging, Self-Harm (Graphic Depictions and Mentions), Nightmares

-

Author: ScariusAquarius

-

rehab masterlist. chapter 14 / chapter 15

The Swiss Alps were much colder than the assassin had been expecting. While Natasha Romanova knew the terrain almost like the back of her hand, it was unusually cold for the early morning. The watch on her wrist was reading 4:38am, and though is was typical for a November morning to be cold, Natasha could feel the weather permeating through her body.

No matter how much the Red Room had tried to condition her body for any climate, Natasha always hated the cold the most. Rubbing her gloved hands together, Natasha watched as her breath materialized in front of her as she breathed out, tapping her foot impatiently.

"Clint, you almost done back there?"

The sound of leaves crunching made Natasha turn, and Clint gave her an annoyed expression as he came out from behind a large tree, shaking his shoulders.

"You try taking a piss in the dead cold. It's not fun."

Wanda made a noise of disgust, shaking her head with vigor as she begged.

"Please, never think so loudly again."

Natasha chuckled, and Clint just rolled his eyes before giving Wanda a firm look as she stated, her eyes glowing red and fingertips twitching slightly.

"I do not sense anybody within the building. It is...empty."

"That's either a really good thing or a really bad thing."

Clint muttered, and Natasha frowned deeply to herself, the gears in her head turning.

"If Rollins isn't here...he wasn't in Germany like he was supposed to be...just where would a rat hide?"

Wanda shrugged and answered with a slight look of unsureness.

"If I were a rat, I would hide where nobody would think to look...and that has plenty of resources for me to use."

Clint hummed, rubbing his chin as he looked up at the brightening sky.

"I mean, it's a stretch...but what if he's hiding out with the CIA?"

Natasha huffed, shaking her head.

"I knew I should have went anyway. Let's just check this building to see if there's any valuable information and destroy the place once we're done."

Clint immediately took out his bow and gestured his arm out.

"After you, miladies."

"Really? I think you should go first."

Clint gave Natasha a glare while Wanda chuckled and shook her head.

"You two fight like a married couple."

"We would have killed each other a lot sooner."

Clint rolled his eyes before he leapt down the side of the hill that was sitting right next to the HYDRA base, his voice carrying through the air.

"I'm leaving now!"

Wanda and Natasha both shared a look, and Wanda carefully levitated the two of them down the hill, leaving Clint to fall behind as they both landed gracefully on the ground. While Clint grumbled to himself as he saved himself from tripping, Wanda was squinting slightly, asking Natasha as the woman used a pair of binoculars to get a closer look of the outside of the building.

"So, why not ask for my assistance in finding out who this woman was? I could have easily looked through her memories...even the ones that were locked away."

Natasha hummed, shrugging her shoulders.

"You were on a mission, and by the time you were back, Princess Shuri had already gotten through. Though, having you in Wakanda when she was reactivated would have been a lot more convenient."

"You're telling me. My back is still aching."

Clint muttered before he grabbed his bow, hitting a switch to lock the parts into place as he gazed around the building. Wanda just shook her head as Natasha spoke, a frown on the assassins face.

"No sign of life. Nothing on thermal. You're still not getting anything, Wanda?"

"Nothing; not even underground."

Clint gave Natasha a look, stating quietly.

"I don't like this, Nat. Something isn't right. Why would the facility be completely cleared out like this unless there's someone already on the inside?"

Wanda spoke up while Natasha was thinking.

"The decoy was supposed to be in Morocco, but if that wasn't the true decoy...perhaps the missions we are leading are."

Natasha stood up, giving Wanda and Clint firm looks.

"Clint, get a hold of King T'Challa immediately. Tell him that there might be a possible mole and to go on lockdown while we get back. This is starting to get complicated."

Clint nodded, walking off a bit as he began to make the phone call, and Wanda frowned again.

"I...hope that I am not in trouble for this, but I looked through Clint's memories of when he and Steve went to the CIA. The Director...what if he is hiding Rollins?"

Natasha muttered, shaking her head as they began to quickly trek back up the hill.

"It would make sense. If he was as nervous as Clint says he was, then perhaps he knows more than he is letting on."

Wanda frowned more, shaking her head before she muttered softly.

"The woman's face...what would they had done to cause such scars like that?"

Natasha was quiet and she sighed.

"HYDRA and the Red Room don't care about your autonomy. They only care about what you can do for them...what you know...what your assets are. If you don't comply, then you get punished. Even the slightest misstep could cost you a broken leg."

'Again!'

Penché Arabesque, Italian Fouetté, Quadruple Pirouette. If you do not dance with the grace of God, may he strike you down with the bite of a thousand widows.

'What if I fail?'

'You never fail.'

Natasha shook her head slightly, and Wanda pursed her lips almost as if she was ashamed, and Natasha turned to Wanda with a frown.

"With HYDRA, it's worse. You've seen what they did to Bucky...the hours of torture and beatings and wiping. I'm sure you can imagine how much worse it became for the others after Bucky's escape."

"Truthfully, I am unsure if I wish to know."

Clint interrupted the two of them with a grave look, his eyes directly onto Natasha as he warned.

"We have an issue. Tony and Steve both had the same problem at their locations. Based emptied, not a soul in sight. We're all on the same conclusion that someone is already on the inside...or they're about to try. We need to get back right now. T'Challa is already moving (Y/n) to a more safe location with Shuri and has arranged the Dora Milaje to stand guard as well."

Natasha frowned and stated, glancing at Wanda.

"You two go on ahead. I'm going to search through the facility for any hard evidence that we might need."

Wanda raised a brow at Natasha as she asked.

"How will you get back?"

The Black Widow just shrugged.

"I'll hitch a ride."

Clint smirked slightly before gesturing with his head at Wanda.

"Come on, we gotta go. Nat knows what she is doing."

Wanda seemed reluctant before she nodded, and the two Avengers were quick to get back to the quinjet. Once they were out of range, Natasha pulled out her phone and sighed as she dialed a number and waited as it rang.

"Romanoff, do you have any idea what time it is right now?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I interrupt your precious beauty sleep?"

The man on the other side of the line grumbled before he asked with an annoyed tone.

"What the hell do you want?"

"I need to call in a favor."

-WAKANDA-BUCKY-

His blood was freezing and boiling at the same time. Thoughts were racing through his mind at high speeds, jumbled and unfocused as he stood in front of the woman that was currently in a cryostasis pod in the deepest part of the kingdom. The Dora Milaje were surrounding him, spears at the ready and pointed at the door.

Shuri was currently typing away at her computer as she communicated with the king, and Bucky couldn't help but to feel a surge of angry anticipation go through him.

"What the hell is going on, Princess Shuri?"

Shuri gave Bucky a grim expression, stating.

"The Avengers, except for Tony, have not found anything. All of the facilities were completely empty and cleaned out...we believe that there is a mole."

Bucky cursed to himself, asking with an accusatory tone that made Okoye give him a death glare.

"Great. I thought Wakanda was supposed to be the most secure place in the world?"

Shuri looked frustrated, throwing a hand up in the air.

"It is not completely foolproof! I do not know why my brother claims as such. Every program, every barrier, every theory will have weak spots. The issue is when the opposing factor knows how to exploit that."

Bucky just remained quiet, and Shuri stated.

"We do not know when the enemy will attempt to strike. The safest thing is to keep (Y/n) here and guarded while Tony goes over what he has found at his facility."

Bucky glanced back at the woman that was currently encased in ice, her expression soft and peaceful as she slept, and Bucky muttered with a low tone.

"I'll stay here with (Y/n). If you're up there with Tony, it'll cut the work time in half. If you're comfortable with it, having half of the Dora Milaje to stay here with me would increase our chances tenfold."

Shuri nodded before stating.

"It would as we do not know how many agents Rollins will be bringing with him. However, in order to ensure my brother's safety, I will take all but one. I will leave it up to them to decide who stays with you."

Shuri then walked closer to Bucky, the man leaning down as the princess whispered softly.

"If all else fails, Mr. Barnes, taking her out of cryo might be your best bet. It will be too troublesome to try to transport the pod...but with the woman herself? It might be the best option."

Bucky frowned, shaking his head slightly.

"Defrost can take a long time...time that we don't have. If it comes down to that, I don't think there will be enough time to defrost and transport."

Shuri then gave Bucky a look before she backed away.

"Then, Mr. Barnes? Make it work. She's depending on you...on us all."

Bucky felt shivers go down his spine, and he pursed his lips as he watched Shuri and all but one of the Dora Milaje leave. The remaining agent stood at the door, straight and poised; almost statue-like as she awaited for trouble or orders...or both. Bucky turned back to the woman and he frowned. Would defrosting her now be a good choice?

There was a part of Bucky that wanted to in order to tell the woman the truth: that her Handler was coming after her, and it was time to make a choice. However, would that be fair? Would it be fair to put this woman, who had endured years and years of torture and pain and suffering, through the experience of seeing her Handler again?

Bucky ran a hand through his hair before scratching at his beard. The fire within the torches in the room flickered, and the light glinted off of his metal arm, making Bucky look down at it.

'It's not gonna be easy. Lots of people know about the past...but we can make it a much better future if we stick together. I'm here to help you, Buck...and I certainly am not going to punish you.'

Bucky remembered that he had been making coffee when Steve had come by, sitting down at the table with a steaming cup of his own; that familiar solemn look in those blue eyes. He remembered that Doris Day was playing on a record that Tony had found for him, much to his dismay and the pushing of the rest of the Avengers.

'People don't forget, Steve. How can I make amends for the things that I've done when all people see when they look at me is the Winter Soldier?'

Despite the moment being serious, Steve couldn't help but to crack a small smile.

'Give them a new face to look at then.'

'You're a punk, you know that?'

Give them a new face to look at. Bucky clenched his fist before looking up at the woman in the pod and he took a deep breath.

"I'm gonna get into so much trouble for this."

-

STORY NOTES: Natasha, Clint, and Wanda are in the Swiss Alps for their mission. It is 4:38am, and Natasha notes how cold it is. She muses that no matter how hard the Red Room had conditioned her, Natasha hated the cold the most. Clint and Wanda are officially introduced, and Wanda makes the observation that the HYDRA base they are at seems to be empty. Clint offers that Rollins could be hiding with the CIA since the other bases seemed to be empty as well, and Natasha decided that the group should still investigate the building just in case.

While Wanda checks through the building again, Clint becomes uneasy, telling Natasha that he doesn't like the situation. Wanda mentions the Decoy in Morocco, and points out that the true decoys are the missions the Avengers are leading at this moment. Natasha orders Clint to get in touch with T'Challa, and Wanda reveals that she looked through Clint's memories of when he went to the CIA with Steve. Wanda questions the Director's credibility, and Natasha agrees.

Wanda then becomes solemn as she asks what could have caused the scars on the woman's face, and Natasha is quick to reply. She is then sent into a flashback of when she was forced to learn ballet, and Natasha quickly regains her wits, explaining further that since Wanda was able to see what HYDRA did to Bucky, it is obvious the torture became worse after his escape.

Clint comes back to inform Natasha and Wanda that Tony and Steve both were unsuccessful with their missions as well, and that everyone is in agreement that someone is already on the inside. They all begin to prepare to depart, but Natasha hangs back. Wanda is quick to question her, but Natasha answers that she will be able to find her way back. Natasha calls in a favor to an unknown person, and the point of view changes.

The scene opens to Wakanda and Bucky once more. Bucky is anxious and nervous as the Wakandan's mobilize and get ready for an attack; moving (Y/n) (L/n) to the deepest and safest part of the Citadel. Bucky questions Shuri on what is going on, and Shuri reveals that the Avengers, except for Tony, have not found anything at all and all the facilities were completely empty. She reveals that she believes there is a mole.

Bucky becomes frustrated, and Shuri tells him that none of them know when the enemy will attempt to strike and the best course of action is to keep (Y/n) in the safehaven until further notice. Bucky announces that he will stay with (Y/n) so Shuri may help Tony. Shuri agrees, and then advises Bucky that taking the woman out of the cryopod will be the best course of action if all else fails. Bucky refuses, stating that defrost will take too long, but Shuri refuses to take no for an answer.

Shuri and the Dora Milaje then leave, leaving one agent alone with Bucky and (Y/n), and Bucky begins to have an internal dilemma. after experiencing a recent flashback of a conversation between him and Steve, Bucky makes his choice.

TRANSLATIONS:

None

TAGLIST: @tilldeathripsusapart @vicmc624 @mgchaser @aash3 @samfunko @seventeen-x @valckenaux @babybeeelle @sc4rrc @cjand10 @bane-y-zane

[j0kers-light]

His Lighthouse: Joker’s Bunny (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Joker’s Bunny - Oneshot

KEEP IN MIND THIS IS NOT A CHAPTER UPDATE!

Wow... I edged everybody for an year.. anyhooooo its high time I completed this oneshot. Here's the original ask.

Imagine y/n shows up to joker wearing a playboy bunny suit and ears and fluffy tail with rope in her hands.

This oneshot took so much out of me but I’m happy it did. The end of November and early December was not kind to me mentally or emotionally so this proved to be a much needed distraction. It also served as a crash course back into writing! Writers block is somethin' tough. So! If there’s mistakes: no there isn’t. 👀

Hehe.... Merry early Christmas? 🤷🏾‍♀️🤔

Thank you all so much for patiently waiting! As always, If you wish to be a part of the His Lighthouse taglist, do let me know via comment, ask, or a quick direct message! 💖✨

It was only supposed to be a nickname, an inside joke to use however (and whenever) Joker saw fit. He gave you so many names, it was hard to keep up with them all— yet this one in particular stuck. 

You were naturally curious, a timid little thing, simply overly cautious by default. 

You always weighed out the options presented to you before jumping into a situation. Joker said it as a joke all those months ago but overtime, it became something more.  

You would tilt your head and scrunch your nose, really bringing the nickname to life. One random day, you found yourself accepting the name when you used the emoji to refer to yourself. These days, you responded to it without fuss and rarely rolled your eyes whenever J did use it. 

You were without a doubt, Joker’s Bunny. He never thought you would take the title this seriously. 

Joker groaned to himself. 

Whhhhhy didn’t he stay at home with you tonight? You practically begged him to stay with those e/c eyes of yours, but he stood firm on his ‘I have to go, it's im-port-ant’ spiel. You pouted but sent him off with a kiss.  

Now Joker regretted his decision as each boring minute dragged on during this briefing. To be fair, it was important. The sad reality was—Joker was not listening. He spent his time staring off into space, daydreaming about you. 

He wondered what you cooked tonight. Was it that new recipe you’ve been dying to try, or did you play it safe and fix one of his favorites? He loved your cooking and could really go for a hearty meal after sitting through this snoozefest. 

Joker’s thoughts were plenty and quickly changed narratives in a split second. Did you take a bubble bath with that new bath bomb he got you? Joker saw it in passing and immediately thought of his Bunny after seeing the display pyramid of shimmery spheres in the store. 

They had your name written all over it. So what if he stole you a few? He’d do anything for his Bunny! Besides, it was nothing compared to the other flasher gifts he showered you with on a daily basis.  

Joker was still envisioning your gorgeous body soaking in pink tinted water when his phone chimed, startling him out of the fantasy. He fished it out of his coat pocket and arched an eyebrow when he saw your message come through. Speak of an angel, and you appear. 

you coming home? 

J smirked to himself reading the word home. 

It stirred up a flurry of emotions within him every time you used it. Joker thought he had no need for a home until you entered his life and proved him wrong. Every person needs a home; his just so happened to be in the form of you. And right now, Joker was feeling rather homesick.  

His first instinct was to rush back, but he found your message a bit odd since you knew he was overseeing a meeting tonight. Did something happen or were you just as needy as he was? He really should’ve stayed at home tonight. Joker sighed as he scanned the room. 

The team was still talking amongst themselves on how to pull off the hit without gaining the authorities’ attention. Joker drowned them out thirty minutes ago. He was only here for appearance’s sake and could care less if they succeeded or not. 

They could iron out the details without him present and that became the determining factor to answer your text. With a roll of his green eyes, J replied. 

What’s in it 4 me? 

Joker watched three tiny dots appear and fade multiple times over a course of several minutes. Whatever you wanted to say was deleted over and over until Joker finally got a vague response. 

Come and find out 🐰 

You were a sassy little thing tonight. To prove his point, just a few seconds later, Joker received an attachment pic from you. He took one glance at it and inwardly moaned. Screw this meeting. It was obvious he was needed at home.  

“Oi! Where you going, Boss?” A henchman called out. 

Joker was busy storming out the door to even notice that he scared everyone with his abrupt exit. They were waiting for Joker to voice his opinion and he just up and left. The small group began to panic and scrambled to find a way to revise the plans to meet Joker’s high expectations. 

They could all die trying to rob the bank for all he cared.  

Joker’s mind was elsewhere, solely on you in fact. His Bunny was asking for it. It was the only explanation as to why the fading sun captured your sexy silhouette oh so perfectly. When Joker got home, he was gonna ruin you. 

Joker didn’t notice Frost walking down the hall in his mad dash to the elevator. Frost noticed his boss’s urgency and promptly scoffed. “Let me guess. It’s either something the idiots said in the meeting or something B did.”  

He ignored Joker’s venomous glare. His lack of response spoke volumes. “Are you coming back after you fix her attitude?” Frost sighed softly. 

The elevator door dinged open, and Joker walked backwards inside. He locked eyes with Frost, voicing his demands. “Don’t bother us unless it’s raining uhh.. cats and dogs!”  

J wasn’t coming back, they both knew it. Frost spoke to his own reflection as the doors slid closed. “I don’t get paid enough for this.” 

There really should be a written guide to this sort of things. How To Look Sexy for Your Lover While Wearing a Ridiculous Outfit. 

Perhaps you could write one yourself; it beat psyching yourself up in the mirror until Joker came home. You planned this surprise for weeks and now the day finally came to act on it and you were having second thoughts. The last component for your outfit arrived after Joker left for the night and you just couldn’t wait another second to show him the final product. 

It was now or never. You wouldn’t have the confidence to do this after today. Just looking in the mirror you felt silly all over again. The fact that Joker left you on read after giving him a sneak peek didn’t help boost your confidence. 

It wasn’t that disappointing– nine times out of ten Joker left you on read, the problem was that he left you hanging after you sent him a risqué picture when you were expecting an instant reaction to it. 

It took you ages to get the right angle, the perfect lighting, and to eventually find a pic that you genuinely liked, before sending it to the clown, and he didn’t acknowledge any of it. 

You checked yourself out again and sighed as your heels scraped the hardwood.  

You thought you looked cute, hot even! but your opinion was irrelevant if Joker didn’t approve. Maybe he opened the message and became busy before he could respond? Or perhaps his phone died? You told yourself anything except the truth. 

He probably hated it and didn’t want to hurt your feelings. 

That seemed to be a valid explanation coming from your cold, heartless clown. Joker was unpredictable like the wind. It was hard to please his shifty moods.  

There was no sense in keeping the outfit on if nothing would result from it. You pouted as you fumbled behind your back for the zipper— until you heard keys turning in the front door. 

Joker was back in record time. It made you wonder how he got here so fast, but that was a problem for another day. J was home and your stomach was in knots.  

Why did the zipper wanna act up now of all times?! How did it get stuck anyway? There was no time to change! You grabbed Joker’s first surprise off of the dresser right as the bedroom door slammed into the wall.  

He was going to leave a permanent dent if he kept doing that. You told him numerous times to stop. You were about to scold him about it for the nth time, but the green tinted flames in his eyes took your breath away. 

Joker was a raging bull, just shy of steam blowing out his nose and his target was poor ol’ you shifting your weight from heel to heel. You hid his surprise further behind your back and of course, he noticed. His Glasgow smile slowly stretched along his face.  

“Whatcha got there, Bunny.” Joker stressed the endearment more so than usual since you were dressed the part. 

You wore your tallest pumps and donned a fresh pair of fishnets to go nicely with your patent pink bunny suit. It clung to your figure in all the best ways to go with the white cuff links you had on your wrists.  

You looked straight out of Playboy magazine in Joker’s eyes. He admired the bunny ears atop your head; one bent, the other straight and the crisp white debonair tie fastened around your neck. He loved your attention to detail; you saw to it that every element shined individually. 

And just like a bunny, you were skittish as Joker slowly stalked his way towards you.  

You couldn’t stop the smile that lit up your face as Joker tilted his head in that intimidating way of his. “I saiiiiid... whatcha goT behind your back, Bunny? Is it a uh, surprise?” 

You nodded demurely in response. So that’s how you wanted to play huh? Joker grinned. 

“Yeah? Is it…. for me?” You giggled when he tried to steal a peek, if not for you blocking his attempts at the last second. Your heels clicked loudly in the room as you darted away.  

Joker was enjoying your playful mood tonight and he growled seeing you smirk. You were matching J’s energy, although he had to stop and admire you more closely.  

He could tell you planned this for quite some time. You did your makeup so prettily, and he was over the moon seeing your plump lips shimmering in the setting sun. You wore the shade he recently stole.. ahem bought. The one that tasted like strawberries when he kissed you long enough.  

He licked his own lips, reminiscing the taste. You were a walking temptation. 

J’s green eyes roamed from your beautiful face down to your neck that begged him to nibble and mark up, to your breasts that were practically bursting out of your bunny costume. 

He wouldn’t be surprised if you bought it two sizes too small with how your curves spilled out over the leather confines. Joker wanted to lay you down, knead your soft flesh, and ruin you. 

You looked so good and Joker knew you tasted far better; he couldn’t help but objectify you. There was so much he wanted to do in such a limited time! Your sweet giggles were cute, but he was tired of playfully chasing you around the bedroom. He growled as he caught you by the waist.  

“Gotcha! Now… let’s uh, seeeeee what my sweet girl is, oh..” Joker audibly swallowed as you bit your lip, looking away.  

Joker stared at the bundle of rope in your hands—and for once in his life, he was at a loss for words.  

The soft hue would look heavenly against your complexion, and the possibilities of what tonight could bring made blood rush to his cock. Joker had been wanting to tie you up for months now and he wasn’t shy about introducing the idea in small doses. He took you by surprise one night by binding your hands with one of his ties. 

He saw how your breath hitched, the way your eyes widened in intrigue, or how you bit your lip as you answered his check-in with a lustful, ‘I-I like it.’  

The feeling of being helpless, at the mercy of a man like Joker, it excited you and drove him feral. Yes, you were his sweet girl so precious and silly, but taking things a step further and being an actual Bunny in bed? He wasn’t so sure if you could handle that darker side of him just yet, but this rope was a sign that you were.  

He had to make sure you were 100% okay with this before going forward. 

Joker toyed with the rope as he met your gaze. Both were soft and pliable, so easy to destroy.. “Y/n… are ya sure?” he asked.  

He was asking for a lot. If you said yes, you would surrender yourself completely to Joker. It was scary, Joker was scary.  

You would be fool to turn a blind eye to his true nature. He enjoyed severe power imbalances, and he reveled in torturing others. Joker was a man to fear and yet here you are, virtually begging him to have his way with you.  

It was like making a deal with the devil. However, you trusted Joker not to get too carried away.  

You nodded and leaned up (even with high heels on, J towered over you) and kissed his scarred cheek but Joker required a verbal agreement. It was a firm rule he enforced for serious moments like this.  

“Aht aht, I need to hear you say it, Bunny.”  

You nodded again but Joker grabbed your throat, clearly not in the mood for your antics. “Use. Your. Words. Y/n.” His eyes narrowed, “I won’t re-peaT myself.” 

Your eyes fluttered closed hearing Joker’s assertive tone. This was The Joker that Gotham City feared. He oozed dominance and demanded order, if only to destroy it the second he got it.  

You felt compelled to obey his commands. “B-Bunnies don’t t-talk.” You rasped as you broke free to sashay over to the bed.  

With Joker eyeing your every move, you bent at the waist and wiggled your buns so the fake cotton tail on the outfit could move enticingly.  

His breath was shaky as he unraveled the colored rope in his hands. A mocking tsk tsk fell from his lips. “What a naughty, naughty girl I have. She neverrrrrr listens to my rules.”  

Ugh rules... how could you think about rigid rules at a time like this?! Just hearing Joker’s voice gave you insight to your fate. You definitely weren’t walking tomorrow morning.  

Your heart was pounding as Joker stopped short behind you. You could feel the heat radiating from his body and when his hand traced your skin—searching for a way to take your costume off, you moaned. He loved how pent up you were. It solidified your desire for this. You wanted him.  

Joker hummed once he found the pesky zipper and he dragged it down inch by inch, teasing the both of you. “I need ya to tell me, Y/n. Are you gonna be my rope bunny for the night?” J said when the zipper reached your lower back. Of course it worked just fine for him. 

God, you loved this psychotic clown. You could hear just how much Joker was holding himself back and yet he took the time to make sure you were okay with this.  

He’d jump your bones once he got consent. Your safety always came first.  

He was thinking of the best knots to restrict you with when you broke character. Joker’s eyes caught yours melting in the setting sun as you turned toward him. “Yes, please I want this. I’ll be good J, I promise.” you whispered. 

A single kiss to the center of your back sealed your fate. “I know ya will, Princess. Arch ya back for me.”  

You whimpered but leaned forward so your head rested gently on the pillows with your bottom in the air. There was no turning back now. Once Joker fully removed your costume, he would see just how devoted you were to your nickname. 

The tight costume highlighted all of your so-called imperfections and Joker took great care to rub your skin where indents formed due to the stiff leather. Just as he expected, you did purchase it a size smaller than your norm. How cute.  

Joker kissed his way down your spine as he helped you escape the material. You knew he found his final surprise when a sharp crackle was heard inside the room, followed by a blooming sting on your backside.  

“Y/n. Are ya try-ing to kill me?” Joker genuinely sounded in pain as he kneaded your flesh while admiring your cotton tail.** “My sweet, sweet Bunny girl.. just whaT am I ta do with ya?”  

Joker flung the costume somewhere in the bedroom as he took up the rope.  

He wanted to take his time tonight; to create intricate patterns against your skin, to make lasting memories that would fade days later.... but now his twisted mind was spiraling. Was it too much, too soon to suspend you from the ceiling? It could bear your weight.. right?  

No. No. Baby steps. There was always a chance for extremes next time.  

IF you survived tonight that is. You were still lying on the bed waiting for Joker’s instructions that would never come.  

You yelped when Joker yanked your hands behind your back to bind your arms to your waist via a series of knots and loops. And he didn’t stop there. Somehow he secured your ankles to your plushy thighs, effectively hogtying you face down on the mattress. You were made vulnerable before you could even muster up the thought of backing out.  

The cold air in the room hit your cunt and you knew Joker enjoyed the view of your walls clenching around nothing in want. “Such a needy little Bunny! Don’t worry. If ya bee~haaaave, you’ll get what you want." 

In defiance, you tried to move but the fibers of the rope restricted your mobility a little too well. Panic alarms went off in your head and Joker instantly noticed the change in your body language.  

He was right there by your ear to calm you down. “Wiggle your fingers. That’s it.”  

You gasped after finding you could move your fingers as well as your toes—just nothing else. A temporary freedom to pacify the reality you signed up for.  

Joker kissed your ankle, chuckling, “See? You can move, Bun. Tell that err, silly brain of yours I won’t hurt ya.” 

J didn’t warn you in the slightest when he gathered up the slick dripping from your folds with two thick fingers and began to scissor your pussy with them.  

You screamed from the stretch, yet J didn’t pay you any mind. “Shhhh, Bunny. Alll ya gotta do is feel.” Joker knew that was absolute torture for you.  

Funny, how you desired to be restrained when physical touch was your love language. You loved holding onto J in some form of capacity. He could tell you were going through it with how your tiny fists kept clenching on your lower back.  

It was so exhilarating to see you squirm as he worked you to your peak in record time. It was cruel but since when was Joker nice? 

He curled his fingers upward in a come-hither motion to stroke the spongy spot in your pussy that drive you wild and it was a success judging by your squeals. You were listening to his instructions well, as much as your moans sounded awfully like the first syllables of his name. You didn’t break character to speak; maybe you deserved a reward.  

You didn’t see it that way when Joker bent down to start eating you out.  

He was a man starved using that devilish tongue of his to good use. You felt every lick and subsequent suck as Joker made out with your pussy.  

Every lap had your hips backing up onto his tongue till you were practically grinding onto his face. Not like Joker minded, being suffocated by your cunt was a great way to go. However his hands weren’t idle as you sought out your pleasure.  

He kept you spread wide open with his thumb that every now and then, rubbed maddening shapes on your clit. There was so much stimuli, your brain could not keep up.  

You buried your face into the sheets and cried out as your orgasm flooded your senses.  

Joker hummed his approval and didn’t let up his feast.  

So what if your thighs shook as another orgasm hit you or was it simply a continuation of the first? The logistics didn’t matter.  

He knew it felt good given the whimpers not even your fancy pillow thread count could stifle. Joker was enjoying himself too although he couldn’t ignore the reason for your oversensitivity. It was right in front of his face after all.  

He couldn’t believe you were this serious about your nickname.  

Something about seeing your cotton tail swaying in sync with your pleasure stirred his own. He tore himself away from your pussy to speak on it.  

“How long have ya waited for this, hm?”  

He eased a third finger into your pussy as his tongue honed in on your clit. He wished for a way to bottle your high-pitched whines for a later use. It sure would come in handy for those long, lonely nights at the hideout when he ached for his pretty girl.  

He wondered how long you had been horny. Judging by the never ending slick coating your thighs, it had to be hours.  

That meant you were needy well before he left. Granted it was his idea to leave you all alone tonight to attend that dumb briefing, you still lured him back home with your gorgeous body and coy attitude.  

Interrupting him at work was a big no no. That had to be a good enough reason to punish you right? It was in Joker’s mind.  

His hand landed on your skin like a crackle of thunder. “Sendin’ pretty pictures knowing I’m busy. How loooong did ya wait Bunny? Answer me!” he struck your behind more and more as your silence filled the air.  

Wet sobs collected in your throat with the strain of keeping quiet but you couldn’t endure this delicious torture for long.  

Finally, you caved in and your head shot up on command, “I-I waited—!” 

Joker shoved his wet fingers down your throat, sighing like a disapproving parent. “Ya really fell for that huh? Whaddya say earlier? That bunnies uhh, Don’t. Talk? Suck em clean… there ya go.” 

He tested your gag reflex with each pump of his fingers. You did as you were told and sucked your juices just like you would off his dick. Maybe if you did well enough, J would take pity on you and let you have it. Your cunt was aching with the overstimulation Joker assaulted it with. You craved him like no other.  

Unfortunately Joker knew exactly what you were up to when you started bobbing your head. He yanked his fingers away and pushed your head back down. “Bunny.. I thoughT I told ya to behave?”  

You heard the sound of his belt buckle coming undone and knew that you messed up.  

You couldn’t plead or squirm away from the inevitable. Joker had you right where he wanted you.  

The first impact from his belt startled you and leave it to J to not give you any breathing room. He gladly spanked you until more of your juices squirted onto the bed.  

“Haha, my sick little Bunny. I knew ya like this!” he mocked. Your body trembled with a mix of satisfaction and embarrassment. You were so adorable fighting with your emotions.  

He cooed at the heat from your skin turning it colors. He took to kneading your flesh to work the sting out. Although there were other ways of doing that.. 

J grinned when his fingers took a detour and toyed with your sloppy wet pussy. You definitely enjoyed a little pain with your pleasure. The evidence coated his wrists. 

You were the perfect Bunny. The best girl. How did he get so lucky to have you? 

Joker sighed to himself as he edged you again with his fingers. “I can do annnny~thing to ya and you’d let me, would ya sweet thing? Aht. Aht. Nod, no talkin.” 

You rocked your hips to Joker’s fingers—wanting nothing more than his cock. Your cunt was begging to be filled, to finally get a taste of your favorite drug. But you knew disobeying J would ruin your chances so you weakly nodded instead of pleading with words.  

You doubted you could string up a coherent sentence with your current brain cells anyway.  

Joker must’ve noticed and took pity on you. He saw the wrecked state you were in and wanted to ruin you further. You brought this upon yourself dressing up like a slut. He glared at your tail as he undid his pants.  

F__k, he was hard.  

There was no time to remove pesky clothes or anything else for that matter. Joker would die if he didn’t sink his cock deep into your gummy walls so he didn’t waste any more time.   

His leaking tip brushed your clit almost as an apology before all the air in your lungs got pushed out.  

He felt bigger than ever. Why did you agree to this? Both of your holes were stuffed full and with your limbs tied up and useless, it was only fair that your mind followed suit. Your jaw hung open in a silent moan the deeper Joker sank into your guts.  

“So f__king tight!! Awww Bunny. Ya still with me?” He asked when you got too quiet. J finally bottomed out with a demonic growl that ended in an equally sinister laugh. “I honestly don’t care. You’re. All. Mine.”  

He pulled back with a hiss, only to shove his dick right back in with teeth rattling force. Joker made deep, meticulous thrusts to really get a feel of your depth, as if this were the first time he explored your pussy. As he didn’t carve out the shape of his dick into your cunt ages ago. The loud wet squelches she made would’ve made you blush on a normal day.  

Tonight, your only objective was to keep breathing.  

Joker grabbed your bound arms and used them as leverage for his brutal pace in and out of your pussy.  

He spanked, he clawed, he kissed every inch of your skin at his disposal. You were a mere fleshlight for Joker to use and he loved every minute of it.  

Your pathetic moans in between gasps for air spurred him on.  

“Yes! Yes yes yes yes atta girl, take it Bunny. Arch it for me, c’mon.” Another hard slap to your buns echoed off the walls, a signal to correct your posture. “So good!” he groaned.  

At one point you felt J lay down on top of you. His lustful groans rang in your ears but his cock and his heavy thrusts, shook your soul. Joker set all of his weight on you, prone boning you deeper into the mattress.  

His teeth scraped your ear, “You’re so goood for meee.” Joker’s praise washed over you as his thrusts slowed down to reflect the change in the air. A mere moment’s reprieve you quickly took advantage of.  

You turned your head, catching his lips in a tangle of teeth and tongue.  

Joker drank in your airy moans as well as your features plagued by pleasure. Your mascara ran down your face and your blissful smile made Joker’s cock throb. There was not a single thought to be found behind your pretty eyes.  

You were so far gone that nothing else mattered but him. Joker uttered your name like a curse as he pulled out. You snapped out of your fog to whine but Joker was leagues ahead of you.  

“Shhh, calm down Bunny. It’s uh only for a… fuuuuu.. for a moment.” Joker gasped as he rolled you over onto your side. He wanted to see your face when he spilled himself inside of you.  

He just wasn’t expecting your pussy to squeeze him like a vice when he slid back inside. You were sucking him in and pushing him out and the conflicting sensations made Joker fall onto his knees straddling you.  

“Ya killin’ me doll.” Joker panted.  

He kept his balance on his hands to resume pounding into you. He fixed your bunny ears back straight and brushed a curl out of your face mid thrusts.  

He wanted a clear view when your eyes rolled back in ecstasy. You were almost there given the cute hiccups you were making.  

All this time you managed to keep quiet, somehow. He wanted this final orgasm to be catastrophic. He wanted you die and come back to life in ecstasy.  

You locked eyes with Joker right as white hot static started to creep up your spine. The room got hot and your nose tingled as the pressure that built up ever since J walked into the room, reached its precipice.  

You had nothing to hold onto. There was no slack to try escaping the intense pleasure Joker subjected you to. All you could do was lie back and cry out J’s name.  

The rope bit into your skin as you twitched and moaned wantonly. Joker steadied you the best he could while still ramming into your pussy. The world could end and he would not stop.  

You were the prettiest when you came and he would have been a fool to not follow you over the edge. 

Joker gasped as your cunt clamped down and wrangled his dick with each passing wave of pleasure. He wanted to wait, to drag out this moment until forever, yet he was a slave to your will.  

He buried his face in your chest and groaned as his dick pumped once, twice, and finally spilled rope after rope of cum into your womb. It was agony to let go. There was always more to experience; more to take. If there was a way to fuse himself with your body, he’d give it a try just to savor this moment with you for eternity.  

Joker didn’t know he was talking aloud until he heard your bumbling attempts to reply.  

“You’re never gonna be better than this my sweet girl. Accept. It. Thisss is who you are.” His hips bucked forward—still craving the warmth only you could provide, but pain had crept in ruining the night.  

You tried your best to utter a single word but Joker silenced it with a smoldering kiss. He pulled away holding your gaze intently.  

“I mean it. You’ll always be my pretty Bunny, mkay? Ohhh, look at you!! Was I too rough?” Joker teased when you winced in pain. Your shoulder was at an odd angle ever since he rolled you over. In the throes of passion, it didn’t register but now.. 

Joker tossed you a look, “You can talk now, doll.”  

He sat up and with great regret, pulled out of your pussy. She mourned the loss as J’s cum began to leak out onto the sheets.  

You’d have to do laundry again but Joker seemed preoccupied at the moment to notice your annoyed pout. He was busy undoing the sturdy knots he made around your limbs.  

One by one, you felt the pressure release… and then came the pain. “Ow..” you mumbled.  

Joker snorted but did his best to massage the blood flow back into your arms and legs. He eyed the rope burn on your skin (why did that rouse his dick back to life?) and sighed. “M’sorry Y/n. I uh.. tied it too tighT hehe.”  

He freed you so he could gather you up in his arms. The both of you fell back onto the pillows a pile of giggles and pleased sighs.  

Joker caressed your back as he stared up at the ceiling. Once you got comfortable on his chest, you tucked your head under his chin, fully prepared to be doted on. J was the best at post sex cuddles even if he denied it up and down.  

He looked so.. normal afterwards with his green hair all askew and his clown makeup smudged to high heaven. Only you got to see a Joker laid bare and relaxed.  

He did so much to look after you before, during, and now after; it became your responsibility to reassure him that you were okay.  

“It’s okay… um I.. I l-liked it so..” You paused tracing hearts onto this chest. “Um, J?” He hummed, knowing something was on your mind based on your stutter. “Yeah Bun?” 

Oh this was embarrassing. How were you gonna tell him? 

“I um.. m-my tail..” you wiggled on top of him now you could feel that dull ache growing. You wondered how he missed it.. 

Or maybe he didn’t. Joker snorted softly. “What about it?” He cracked an eye open to watch the realization hit you. “You ahh, better get used to it. You’re my Bunny now, re-mem-ber?”  

Joker kissed you before adding, “Get some rest. Ya miiiiight need it in a few.” 

Then he shut his eyes automatically dozing off—leaving you staring at him in horror. This was only supposed to be a nickname, an inside joke at best. Now you opened a door that you couldn’t escape from.  

You were Joker’s Bunny whether you liked it or not.

[cannibalisation]

i literally loved the tattoo artist!sirius fic you wrote it was literally pure gold!!

if you take requests could i request a James Potter x reader where reader works at the record store and he is a regular— some romance after a while of the two exchanging small talk :3 thought that would be cute!

ill just put 🐙anon whenever i make a request

i. flirt

james potter/gn!reader

thank you so much for your request! and i’m glad you enjoyed my sirius fic. i might write a second part if it is asked for ♥️ (1.3k)

caution. flirty (cringy) james, reader is nervously whipped(?), bastard cat, uncreative title, so many music references, i’ve never written for james before as he is to me the most challenging marauder to write for, i hope that i haven’t butchered his character.

i’m new to the marauders fandom and have limited knowledge, sorry for any character inaccuracies.

THREE hours and twenty-five minutes have passed since you first clocked in.

For roughly two of the three hours, you spent stacking shelves with cassette tapes and lining racks with ageing vinyls. It wasn’t a challenging job; you’d prefer it to anything else, but that doesn’t make the work any less tedious.

You’re more than grateful that the manager of Blackbird Records is not a cruel one. He allows any type of music to your liking, and fortunately he hasn’t insisted on a Christmas carol mandate until late November.

Glenn Frey’s smooth croon of lyric sounds out in the store, and you hum along to the words. It’s mostly empty inside; a handful of customers are dotted around, shuffling through the record bins. A young girl with messy copper-coloured pigtails lurks near one of the clearance bins at the end of an aisle; you pretend to not notice as she pockets a lone cassette tape with a sly grin—she has good taste after all.

Angus, the fat ginger cat of the store, sits to your left. He is a favourite among customers, and his picture even rests beneath the “Employee of the Month” plaque. He is lazy, though; he doesn’t even give you a piece of his mind when you attempt to push his sleepy form off the till during busy hours. He likes lying in the sun, so you are kind enough not to bother him right now.

The entrance doorbell chimes, and somehow, without even looking up, you know who just walked through.

James, though he insists you call him Jamie, has been a regular at Blackbird for quite some time now. And for the last few months, he has been trying to convince you to at least go on one date with him.

He’s nice about it, which you’re grateful for; he isn’t pushy or demanding; it’s really just casual flirting. Every time he comes up to the register to purchase his chosen items, he manages to throw in a cheesy pick-up line. On each occasion he does so, you either grimace in embarrassment or your face happens to heat up.

Sometimes he comes into the store with his mates; they laugh at him when the amorous quips clearly don’t woo you.

James clicks his finger in your direction and winks as he struts past you. He looks nice today, in dark denim jeans and a red polo jersey, much too big for his frame.

With a subtle glance, you watch as he flicks through the LPs that sit inside a storage bin. His supple fingers are adorned with silver and gold rings; you can’t help but admire the flex of the veins in his hands as he skims over the albums.

You retreat your gaze quickly as he turns his head in your direction, how humiliating it would be if he had caught you essentially checking him out. From what you knew about him, which was a limited amount of knowledge, as the only time you see him is during your midday shifts, James was a playful type.

Once you had thought that you’d recognised one of his friends sitting at the same table as you during your psychology class, but he wasn’t exactly discernible. He was quiet and kept his head down for most of the class, but that tweed grey and navy sweater he had on (something you think your grandfather would wear) was too familiar.

James moves on to the listening station now, where the staff picks are located. He turns one of the record player dials and shifts a pair of battered headphones atop his mess of curls. You busy yourself with caressing Angus’ patchy fur as James nods his head along to the running track.

The one-eyed cat observes you with an astute gaze, like he knows exactly what you are thinking. You stare back at him, matching his gaze with equal telling—furrowing your brows to intimidate him. Obviously that does not work, and the beast just looks at you as if you were a fool (he’s right).

The sound of someone clearing their throat breaks you out of the staring contest shared with the cat, and you plaster on your customer service facade with grace.

James stands in front of you now, bronze skin gleaming in the sunlight. God, there was truly no reason to disagree with the fact that he was a cut above the rest. His eyes, chestnut in theory but hazel in the sun, eyed you with a playful look.

You stutter out a quick “Hello” and ask, “Did you find everything alright today?” As he places an album onto the counter. The Clash’s Sandinista!—your staff pick. He had listened to your pick of the week and is purchasing it.

He laughs with a small nod and reaches into the back pocket of his jeans, eyes not leaving yours as he does so. You smile politely in return and move to scan his item; your hands are shaking.

Under his gaze, you can’t help but grow self-conscious. He has pretty eyes; there's no denying that, but they are especially heavy on your form today, and you don’t know why. Was the Beatles shirt a no-go for today? You work at a record store; musician-based articles of clothing are practically compulsory.

Despite that, you choose to ignore any building thoughts in your mind and read him the price owed. He complies with a more-than-friendly smile and hands you the exact number of bills. In an amicable—or rather teasing—manner, you bid him farewell.

For a brief moment you think he looks almost dejected, that once again you have rejected his kind-hearted attitude. That idea is quickly erased as James puffs out his chest and clears his throat once more.

“Hey—Do you live on Abbey Road? Because you got me crossing the street just to be near you!”

Oh god.

You see James again on one of your closing shifts. He saddles himself up beside the wall as you finish stacking a shelf with CD albums. His arm rests right in front of your face, and you try not to urge forwards.

“Can I help you?”

“Sure can. You, me, local pub. My mates are in a band and are performing there on Friday, think you’ll like them.” He states, voice like honey. It’s true, you probably would enjoy watching a local band perform, but you doubt you’d even be able to be calm in such a situation. Hours, if anything, spent in an enclosed, stuffy area with James? Your heart would burst right out of your chest.

As he awaits your answer, James grabs onto each CD you place down and flips it around on the shelf. You say nothing as you repeat the action; neither does he. You doubt you’ve ever met someone so annoying, yet beautiful at the same time.

“Come on—I’m dying over here.” He gasps dramatically, dragging his fist across his chest as he jokingly heaves out a final breath before sliding down to the floor. You can’t help but laugh as he does so, removing yourself from the task at hand to peer at him with a small smile. You can already feel the judgmental gaze of Angus before you even speak.

“Fine, fine! I finish at half five on Friday; now will you get up off the floor? It’s grimy.” He quickly does so at that declaration and looks with hopeful eyes. James places his hands on your shoulders and grips them lightly; it leaves you breathless. “Seriously? You’re being honest this time?”.

With a laugh, you grab a hold of his hands from where they rest on your shoulders. “Yes, will you pick me up?”

“Obviously, here, half five.” He lilted before turning away and skipping over to the front door, “You won’t regret this, I promise!”

You hope that you won’t.

authors note. my first request, thank you again and i hope it was to your liking 🫶🏻 please feel free to request anything else! this is my fandom/character list and I’ll practically write anything so long as it inspires me to do so.