#i never fucking use it & honestly i just always make her return most of the shit she gets me like

[bibleofficial]

my mother got me a carry on suitcase but little does she know …. i alrdy ordered the one i actually wanted 3 days ago ALSKAKSKALSKLAKSLAKSLAKS

[areyouwell]

Nyctophobia

Noun: An extreme fear of the dark. Children or adults may have Nyctophobia if they are afraid to be left alone in darkness

Ch.1

Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!Mutant!Reader

Warnings: None as of yet, but we'll get there ;)

Word count: 9.2k

A/N: RIGHT FUCKERS ITS TIME. i don't think i've written a fic this long in goddamn years but here we are. DEFO ooc Logan and also timeline what timeline? Kitty is older than the rest of the students cuz i love her and i said so. reader's mutation is currently shadow-walking but that'll develop as we go on so slay boots. also I have no concept of word limits sooooo 9k chapter let's fucking go

How long had it been? Six months? A year? Two years? Honestly, you couldn’t recall. It felt like it had been forever since ol’ Charlie had sent you travelling the continent. Sure, it had been your idea to try and find mutants before they experience the most traumatic event of their lives, but you didn’t think he’d send you, and certainly not immediately. Though you were glad he did, you didn’t think Scott would make as good an impression as you could.

But, now you were back. Thank fuck. You could finally rest your weary legs and put down your heavy-as-shit bag. And at least now you could work on developing your mutation. Shadow walking. Or at least, it is now. You thought that was the extent of what you could do, just disappear and reappear whenever and wherever there happened to be a shadow cast on the ground. Or on a wall. Or anywhere really. But, Xavier had gently suggested that, perhaps, those shadows could be manipulated one way or another. You wished to fuck you knew how because your bag was all but cutting right through your shoulder.

Your boots crunched against the gravel as you took a deep breath, making your way inside. It was nice to notice nothing had changed. The lawn was still neatly mowed, brickwork hadn’t aged a day. It smelt like comfort. It smelt like home. But before you could even knock on the door, at least being courteous enough not to slip through the shadows, the oak burst open and two unidentified arms had wrapped themselves around your neck in one of the most warming hugs you’d ever received, accompanied by a high pitch squeal.

You knew instantly who that would be. Brown hair spilled across her shoulders, smelling faintly of lavender. “Hey Kitty,” you grinned, dropping your bag to return her tight embrace. It truly did feel like forever.

“I’m so happy to see you it’s been years! We thought you were never coming back! Scott thought you’d died and Charles wasn’t telling us, Logan didn’t think you even existed and that we were all lying, Jean thought you’d just got sick of this place and dipped, it was carnage!” She rambled, her deep brown eyes sparkling slightly. You had to take a minute to actually comprehend what the fuck she was saying before your lips split into a broad smile.

“Well, I can tell you that I’m not dead, at least not yet, and I do very much exist and I am not sick of this place despite what Jean may think. And– wait who’s Logan?” Your brain had only just caught up with the fact that Kit had mentioned a name completely unfamiliar to you. Just how long had you been gone?

“Oh, right yeah. A new teacher,” Kitty kept one arm around your shoulder as she guided you back inside, stopping only when you realised your bag was still left discarded by the front door. “He uh, sorta took your position as PE and combat professor… sorry.” She looked genuinely apologetic, whilst internally, you couldn’t be more grateful. You always thought you weren’t ever cut out to teach, and whilst you sometimes enjoyed it, you were always too worried about the kids being hurt. 

“I’m hurt, a girl’s gone for a year or two and you replace her? What kind of school is this?” you cracked a smile, Kitty’s face morphing from remorse to relief. She really thought you’d be upset? You were touched. “Anyway, what time is it? Where is everyone? I thought classes stopped at–” You were cut off abruptly upon entering the lounge.

“Welcome back!” you covered your face at the chorus of voices, laughing behind your hands before clutching your heart dramatically. 

“Christ! You’ve all just knocked five years off my life!” you grinned, faces both familiar and unfamiliar laughing and smiling just to see you.

“They’ve been looking forward to this for days. Ever since rumour of your return started circulating, they’ve been pestering us nonstop for a date. Eventually, someone caved,” You didn’t need to see Scott’s eyes in order to know he was giving Kitty a pointed look behind his glasses. You looked back to see her looking sheepish.

“Yeah well… they can be really persuasive.” She shrugged, taking your bag off your shoulder and placing it out of the way. You sighed at the loss of weight, rolling your joint slightly. 

“It’s good to see you,” Scott pulled you in for a brief hug, clapping your back once before pulling back, letting the rest of your friends and pupils make their way over. You were consumed by various arms of embraces, questions about your travels, introductions to new students, reminiscing with old students. It was quite possibly the best moment you’d had since you left. But a face caught your eye at the back of the crowd. A young girl, with the same dark brown hair you remember, only now a streak of brilliant white framed her face.

You made your way over, shuffling through the crowd, clasping hands and shoulders with people you knew before finally getting to her.

“Hey you,” you smiled gently, remembering how timid and easy to scare she used to be. You were caught off guard completely by her sudden bright smile. 

“Hey.”

“How long’ve you been here? I didn’t actually think you’d listen to me to be brutally honest with you, thought you’d just shrug it off and continue your own path,” you were relieved to see she had listened to what you’d said two years ago. You’d urged her down this path, to find the school. You’d already known Charles would take her, it was just a matter of her taking herself here.

“Uh… about that…” you’d only seen a smile that sheepish on Kitty. You cocked a brow, head tilting to the side slightly before a hand on your shoulder caused you to whirl. But it was just Ororo. Clearly, your travels had affected you more than you originally thought. 

But Storm wasn’t looking at you, you could only see the back of her white hair as she frantically waved at someone through the crowd, beckoning them over.

“Logan!”

Ah, you guess that made sense now.

Whoever you’d expected to walk through the crowd, you threw that image out your mental window the moment you saw him. 

Now you understood why he taught combat and PE… he was fucking ripped. White t-shirt leaving nothing to the imagination. The facial hair was an interesting choice, but you couldn’t say it didn’t suit him. He was very… rugged lumberjack looking.

You placed a hand on your hip, brows raised in intrigue as he made his way over. You don’t think you’d ever seen a grumpier-looking man. 

“Logan, this is Phantom,” your eyes slid to Ororo as she used your mutant name. 

“Ah, so you do exist,” his voice seemed a perfect match for the rest of him, just as rough and rugged as the worn jeans he was wearing. You nodded, mouth quirking into a small smirk.

“Heard there was some debate over that, glad I could put it to rest,” you outstretched your hand for him to shake, something you were surprised he actually did, calloused palm encasing your own.

“Can ya blame me?” He asked with a raised brow, dropping your hand after a beat too long. Clearly unaccustomed to civility, judging from his appearance. 

“Guess not. You’re also the son-of-a-bitch that stole my position, right?” You asked, wanting to be a lot more serious than you actually were being, but for some reason, you couldn’t help grinning slightly. 

“Language!” Storm elbowed you slightly. Guess you’d forgotten how to behave around the kids too.

Logan held his hands up in surrender. “In my defense, I didn’t think you existed,” though he also seemed serious, you thought you could detect something that could be perceived as humour in his hazel eyes. You couldn’t keep up your poorly constructed façade anymore, waving your hand as if to physically clear the air between the two of you.

“I’m kidding, you can keep it. In all honesty, I was never really cut out for it.” You shrugged. “Besides, I’m–”

“She’s being super modest by the way, she rocked as that professor!” Kitty called from the other side of the room, somehow managing to listen to your conversation. You didn’t know how, since the entire welcome party was still chatting way, but you cast her a withering look nonetheless. 

“So I’ve heard,” Logan’s eyes slid from Kitty back to you as you scoffed.

“Though, of course, it was purely hypothetical, since I didn’t exist and all.” You teased, gesturing to your very much existing self. You silently triumphed over the fact you managed to drag a small smile out of him, realising that making this man pull any other expression other than irritation was something to be proud of. 

You hadn’t realised how completely caught up in the introduction you’d been before you noticed the girl still standing next to you, eyes flicking between you and Logan with a small smile pulling at the corners of her lips. 

“Anyway,” you continued pointedly, “you were saying? So you didn’t come to find this place?” your head tilted again slightly in confusion. “How did you end up here?”

Rogue looked from you to Logan, who’s eyes were still trained on you. You looked between them. “Nope, still confused. How did…?” 

“Well, after you found me, I did carry on my own path, which led me to some shady bar where Logan found me,” she explained quietly.

“More you found me but sure.” He shrugged. You could tell there was some kind of bond between them, one you could recognise was only built through trauma. You’d heard a little of what happened with Eric through Charles’ telepathic link, but he always reassured you to continue what you were doing. But you often wondered what could have happened if you’d returned. 

“So, you brought her here?” You asked, trying to prompt the story forward. Honestly, you wanted to know how he’d succeeded where you’d failed. You could be incredibly persuasive when you wanted to be, but Rogue was stubborn on another level. 

“Me? Nah, didn’t know this place existed at that point.”

“Seems to be a common theme with you,” you couldn’t help the subtle teasing grin spreading across your face, nor your laugh as he rolled his eyes skyward.

“Never gonna live that down, am I?”

“Not whilst I’m still breathing,” you winked, before turning your attention back to Rogue and completely missing the way his features shuddered slightly. “So how’d you get here if tall, dark, and broody over here didn’t know about this?” 

“Tall, dark, and– what?” He asked, bewildered.

Ororo snorted in amusement, before stepping in. “That would be us. We’d been tracking another mutant, Sabretooth, and he just so happened to be tracking Logan, or so we thought at the time. We found Sabretooth, and these two at the same time. Brought them both back.” 

You nodded in understanding, now finally having got through the whole story. Well, maybe not the whole story, you knew there were details you definitely were missing, but at least you got the jist.

“I see. Glad it wasn’t my lack of persuasive skills then. Though I guess a life or death situation isn’t much better. How’s your mutation coming along?” you asked, only now noticing the black, elbow-length gloves she was wearing. Ah.

“Still hard to control, but I’m getting better at it!” She looked genuinely enthusiastic about her mutation, so much so that it almost brought a tear to your eye. When you’d met her two years ago, you didn’t know if she even wanted help. She’d been so lost in her despair and self-loathing that you didn’t think she had long left with the way her mental health was going. So to see her so happy, your throat closed up slightly.

“I’m glad, I really am. You deserve this, Rogue. All of this,” you gestured to the room around, to the friends she’d made, to the haven she’d found.

“Oh, my name’s Marie. Guess I didn’t tell you before.” She shrugged, and you had to laugh to stop yourself from crying. 

“Marie it is.” Her story touched your heart, and to see she managed to get her happy ending… fuck you were so close to crying. You had to change the subject before you broke down in front of these people. “Oh hey, is my room still the same? Wouldn’t mind freshening up a little, been a long journey.” Two birds with one stone. You could leave the situation and cry in your bathroom whilst taking a shower so you didn’t smell like the wrong end of a skunk. Perfect!

“Uh…” Storm started.

“About that…” Kitty continued, coming over to stand alongside Storm. You looked between them, before shooting a glance to Logan who seemed to be showing absolutely no remorse.

“Your bed’s real comfy, bub” he smirked, and you gaped.

“You’re fucking kidding me?”

“Language!” both Ororo and Kitty said at the same time, and you winced.

“Fuck, sorry. Shit! Argh!” you gave up, throwing your hands in the air. “I’m not letting any of you off the hook. This is betrayal at its finest! Giving him my position I can handle, but my damn room? That’s shocking behaviour from the both of you!” You pointed at them accusingly, shooting a glare to the man next to you who was doing nothing but lowly chuckling. You breathe out a sigh. You had the best room in the whole mansion. Or at least you did, before Muscles McGee stole it from you.

“Don’t blame those two” Jean placed a calming hand on your shoulder. “we didn’t have another room made up when these two arrived. It was supposed to be temporary, but–”

“The view was too nice to pass up on,” Logan interjected. You realised he probably thought it was his turn to tease you. You knew that view was nice, it was overlooking the entire grounds behind the school. And whilst you were going to sorely miss it, you weren’t so heartless that you’d take it back from him. Besides, in a weird way, you felt like you owed him. He found Marie, and whatever transpired between them, she seemed happier now. You guessed you maybe had him to thank for that.

“Yeah yeah, alright fine. I concede. Where am I then?” you asked Jean, who broke into a broad smile.

“You’re in the one above, still got the same view, don’t worry,” she elbowed you slightly. That wasn’t so bad actually. Same view, same side of the mansion, just one story up? You breathed a sigh of relief. Yeah, you could do that.

“Good enough, I’m still mad about it though.” Your eyes narrowed at four of them, Logan included, before cracking your neck in preparation to take your bag all the way up the stairs.

Kitty clapped her hands excitedly, and you raised a brow in suspicion. “What’s got you so giddy?” you asked as she once again slid her arm across your shoulders, guiding you back towards the door. 

“Oh nothing, just glad you're home. It’s been kinda boring without you.” You laughed at that. With everything that’s been going on, you didn’t think any of them had time to be bored. But you appreciated the thought nonetheless. 

Eyeing your bag on the ground, there were times when you really wished your mutation involved some kind of super strength, because as happy as you were to be home and have a room just above your old one, you really didn’t want to lug that thing all the way up. And all the damn lights were on, so slipping up through the shadows was a no-go. You blew out a breath in preparation, rolling your shoulder once again, before you were stopped by a broad hand landing on your arm.

“I got it,” Logan’s voice weaved butterflies through your stomach. You hadn’t realised he was behind you before he was leaning down next to you and effortlessly slinging the bag over his own shoulder.

For the second time that afternoon, you gaped up at him, left almost speechless. 

“Super strength?” Was all you could say, hoping to Jesus he knew what you were asking. You watched his features morph from confusion to amusement as he shook his head slightly. 

“Nah, not quite.”

“Then how the fu–” you were reminded of the children present by a sharp elbow to the ribs from Kitty. “–uuun. How fun.” you gave up on your question, much to his mirth. The sight had your brain short-circuiting. You wouldn’t deny he was good-looking. You’d be fucking crazy to deny that. But there was something else hidden under all those knowing smirks and sharp glances. Something that you wouldn’t mind uncovering. 

Deciding that was a quest for another day, you turned abruptly on your heel, making your way to the staircase before once again stopping in your tracks. This was starting to get on your nerves a little. However, any irritation soon died as you finally saw Professor Xavier.

“Ah, I wondered whether the commotion was your return.”

You snorted a laugh. “No, you didn’t. You absolutely knew it was my return.” You quipped back, earning yourself a laugh from the man.

“As quick as ever. And I see you’ve met our Wolverine.” Charles nodded to Logan next to you, and you turned to him in bemusement. 

“Wolverine? Seriously?” you asked, laughing at his shrug. “Can’t think why…” your sarcastic jab paired with your pointed looks from his hair to his body brought another amused smirk from the man. 

“I thought you two would get along. Get yourself settled back in and meet me in my office and your earliest convenience.” You nodded back to Xavier, unable to take a moment to process what he meant when he said he thought you and Logan would get along before Kitty began dragging you towards the stairs.

“C’mon! You’re gonna love it!”You were slightly worried about what it was but followed her nonetheless.

Logan had to admit, he didn’t mind carrying your bag up four flights of stairs. It wasn’t the worst way to spend his afternoon. And as much as he wasn’t the kind of guy to stare at a woman’s ass, he wasn’t mad that he was behind you. 

Everything he’d been told about you had been proven correct. At least, everything he’d seen so far. Whether or not you could hold yourself in a fight was up for debate, but everything else, your wit, your charm, heartbreaking kindness, humour… it was all right there in front of him. 

Literally.

He’d lost count of how many times he’d had to bite back a smile or a laugh, stunned by the fact that you actually managed to break through and pull both from him. Even now, as you paused before the landing that lead to your old room and sighed wistfully, had had to stop himself grinning. And he was glad you turned back around quickly after throwing him a pointed glare over your shoulder because that was another smile he was struggling to rein in. Fuck, how did you do it? He’d only known you for half an hour and he’d displayed more expression than he had in his whole two years of being here. 

He was in huge trouble. 

The stairs finally flattened out to the top floor landing, Kitty still leading the way down the corridor until the final room. It was isolated, like his one floor below, and he guessed you must like it that way. Which he thought strange. The way you were with others, he hadn’t exactly pegged you for being someone who liked her space. But then again, he’d only known you for thirty minutes.

He had to remind himself of that. 

“Here we are!” Kitty grinned excitedly, stepping to the side to let you open the door yourself. Logan knew what you’d find behind the wood. He’d helped set it up after all. Some twisted guilt forced him into helping. At least, that’s what he told himself. 

You eyed Kitty suspiciously, before twisting the handle on the door, pushing slightly to reveal what she was so excited about. 

If Logan was being honest, your expression was worth all the consuming guilt he’d felt by taking your room. A smile of pure, unadulterated awe wiped all thought from his mind, your eyes were practically glowing.

“You… Kitty, you didn’t need to do this,” You looked back to the giddy girl and pulled her into a tight hug. Everything you remembered was here. Your posters, fairy lights, and every single plant you’d nourished and grown made your room look like a rainforest. The light in the ceiling had been covered by patterns to ensure there was always shadows cast somewhere, whether it be floor, wall, or ceiling. 

“It wasn’t just me! I employed help,” Kitty smiled, taking the liberties she knew she had to sit cross-legged on your bed. “And others offered to help.”

Logan held his breath as he felt your attention shift from Kitty to him, meeting your gaze of sheer wonder. 

“You helped?” you asked, taking your bag from his shoulder, though he was almost too caught up in your gaze to notice.

“Here an’ there…” he muttered, trying to calm himself by leaning against the doorframe, folding his arms across his chest, attempting to escape your eyes by looking around your room. 

“Here and there? That’s such a lie! He’d heard about your mutation, the shadow-casting thing was his idea!” Kitty grinned excitedly, and you all but choked on the realisation. He did this for you. He didn’t even know you, and he did this for you. 

“Kitty, that’s en–oof!” Logan barely had time to react before your arms were around his neck, your chin resting on his shoulder. Your scent hit him like a truck, and it was nothing like how he’d imagine it. Not that he had imagined it…

“Thank you,” you whispered earnestly, and any guard he’d put up previously melted away. He didn’t exactly return your embrace, but his hands somehow found your waist as you pulled back, keeping your arms across his shoulders. “Maybe I can forgive you for stealing my old room now. Oh! And my job. And not believing I exist,” your grin held more mischief than he ever thought possible, but now you were back to teasing, he felt his thoughts return. 

“Anythin’ else?” He asked, mirroring your expression.

“Not yet, but I’m sure I’ll think of something,” was it Logan’s sudden and overactive imagination, or did your eyes just flicker to his lips?

Was it the sudden physical contact that made your body hum this way, or was it just the fact that he could bench-press three of you? You didn’t care, and somehow, you didn’t think he did either. 

Until very suddenly and very abruptly, you did care. You stepped out of his hands far too quickly for his liking, your arms falling back by your sides. Though you didn’t look like you regretted anything. 

“I really appreciate this, from both of you. And whoever else helped. This is… well it’s better than what I was imagining,” you gestured to the room around you. It truly was perfect for you. They’d really outdone themselves. He’d really outdone himself. And you couldn’t help the warmth that spread from the centre of your chest to your limbs. You wanted to know more about him. “What’s your mutation, by the way? You never said,” you asked before you could stop yourself, and Logan blinked in surprise.

Holding his fist up, he flexed the tendons holding his claws. He no longer winced when his knuckles split. No longer grimaced as he sliced through his own flesh, though watching your face did cause him to worry just a little. 

You held your silence for a moment, not really knowing what to say. That looked painful as fuck, but you felt that asking might make it worse. “I see…” was all you said, before it hit you. “Wolverine! I get it now. It made sense before but now it actually fits!” You exclaimed, chuckling at his confusion. 

“Whaddya mean it made sense before?” 

“Don’t think too much into it,” you winked again, and Logan swore his heart stopped. 

“Yeah, alright Phantom.” He cocked a brow at the playful narrow of your eyes before you melted into the shadows right in front of him. He’d been made aware of your mutation, having overheard Jean using both you and Kitty as examples of phasing mutants, but to actually see it for himself? He couldn’t say he wasn’t impressed. He glanced around the room, retracting his claws as he looked for where you could have gone. 

“Get it now?”

Logan whipped around to see you standing behind him, arms folded across your chest, a mischievous grin plastered across your features. 

You always felt a sense of freedom when you released yourself into the shadows, like holding yourself in this corporeal state was somewhat of an effort. But letting yourself be free, to move like liquid amongst the darkness, it was like refueling a beaten truck. 

Logan’s lips quirked into a smile as he nodded once. “Got it,” the silence lingered once again, some kind of charge energy crackled in the space between the two of you before he cleared his throat. “Kitty, we should– the fuck?” 

You popped your head to the side, peering around Logan to see the space on your bed Kitty used to be sitting in was now completely empty. “Guess she left,” you shrugged. “Or she never existed.” That earned you a flick to the forehead from Logan, and you laughed, batting away his hand. How long had it been since you’d felt this comfortable with someone this quickly? Either it had been years, or never. 

“I’ll leave you to it,” he smiled, this time completely unrestrained. And fuck was he gorgeous. But you had to remember this was a man you’d just met. 

He had to remember this was a woman he’d just met.

“Yeah, thanks. I’ll uh, see you later?” You didn’t mean for your voice to sound so hopeful at the end, but honestly? It was worth seeing him turn back to you with that same smirk you’d seen countless times already.

“Sure.” He said, before closing the door. 

You sat heavily on your bed, your head in your hands. “What the fuck?” 

Little did you know, Logan was having a similar reaction right outside your door, his back against the wood as he pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “What. The. Fuck?”

Having almost drowned yourself in the shower, using that shampoo you’d missed so dearly on your travels, you’d changed clothes into something a lot more comfortable, a loose pair of sweats and a spaghetti strap tank top, before heading down to Xavier’s office where he’d just spent the last ten minutes explaining his plans to further your mutation. And to be completely honest with yourself, you hadn’t listened to half of it. 

“So, in short, your ability, whilst appearing similar to Kitty’s, is actually entirely different. Where Kitty phases through objects, you become those shadows. Your molecules break down completely, unlike Miss Pryde.” He finished his explanation slowly, and you didn’t have the heart to tell him you had no idea what he’d just said. Luckily, when conversing with a telepath, you didn’t have to.

Charles sighed, rubbing his forehead slightly. “You’ve always said you felt a strain on yourself whilst corporeal, yes?” He asked, and you breathed in relief. Finally, a question you could answer.

“Yeah, it’s like I’m holding water with my bare hands. Or something like that,” you nodded, looking at yourself slightly curiously. “So, I’m not like Kitty?” you clarified, looking back up the the professor, who shook his head. 

“I’m afraid not. We were mistaken before, simply assuming you were just another phasing mutant. But Jean ran some tests on your blood, and it was quite remarkable.” You’d almost forgotten the woman was in the room until she cleared her throat, her red hair pulled up in a tight ponytail. 

“I think you describe it perfectly. Your molecules are being held together, more or less, by string, or so to speak. Not real string, but I think you understand.” You nodded. You actually did understand, because that’s how you constantly felt. It was, however, incredibly unnerving. What would happen if that string frayed? Or worse, fucking snapped altogether? Sensing your distress, Charles covered your hand with his own.

“My dear, that’s why we brought you back. We’ve been incredibly lucky so far, and clearly, you have an innate ability to control the string. It’s led us to believe that your abilities don’t stop at shadow walking.” He looked at you with understanding as you took this all in. He’d mentioned to you previously that he thinks you could do more. 

“Shadow manipulation, right?” You asked though the question was rhetorical. You knew that’s where they were going with this. Charles glanced at Jean who nodded in confirmation. 

“Essentially, yes. We think you could pull shadows from an already existing cast and wield them to your heart’s content. In… theory.” She hesitated, and you blew out a breath.

“But in practice?”

“In practice… honestly we don’t know. It will be a learning curve for all of us, to be blunt.” You nodded a little numbly. You’d only just returned and already you were being bombarded with hard truths. 

Once again sensing your distress, Charles cleared his throat. “Well, I think we should continue this discussion tomorrow. You’ve had a long day and perhaps right now isn’t the best time to be entertaining new ideas.” He threw another look to Jean and she nodded again, standing from her seat.

You couldn’t agree more. This was a lot to take in. Especially since you’d become so comfortable with your mutation, believing that you were just another phaser like Kitty. But now, you were something else completely, something unknown. Even to yourself. It… scared you. And you didn’t scare easily. Worry? Sure. Impending sense of dread? Absolutely. Fear? Never.

“Right. Thanks, Professor. I’ll uh, see you tomorrow then.” You dipped your head goodbye, before leaving his office and closing the door behind you. Tea. You needed tea. Fuck you needed something stronger than tea, but since this was a goddamn school, alcohol was strictly prohibited. 

Fuck’s sake. 

Dragging a hand down the side of your face, you absently made your way to the kitchen and flicked on the kettle. Muscle memory guided you to the drinks cupboard, moving aside the jar of decaff coffee to reveal your personal stash of teabags. Whilst primarily you were a coffee drinker, when it was this late in the evening, you tended to steer clear of the caffeine. You weren’t the best at sleeping to begin with, let alone when your mind and body were buzzing. 

You didn’t turn when you heard footsteps behind you, and the scrape of one of the chairs against the wooden floor, too focussed on rifling through the cupboard adjacent to the drinks one for our favourite mug. A gift from Kitty, she’d had custom-made for the print on the side to say ‘Phasers Forever!’. It made you a little sad to think about now. But, thankfully you found it, nestled right at the back next to the mug you’d gifted her. Also custom-made, but this just had the image of two hands with their little fingers linked. You’d made sure the gloves matched the ones you both wore in your suits. 

Dropping the teabag into the mug, you instantly savoured the scented steam as you poured the hot water, even the aroma calming your slightly frayed nerves. Wow, that meeting had seriously rattled you. Looping the string and tag over the lip of the mug, you turned back to the room, only to almost drop your freshly made drink in surprise.

Logan. Hair slightly damp, in a white v-neck tank, sat at the far end of the table, leaning back in the chair with a bottle of what you could have sworn was larger in his bear paw of a hand. That same fucking smirk pulled at his lips. 

“Phantom.” He raised his bottle in greeting. You wished you could match his energy, but honestly, you were drained from the day and the meeting. But you tried nonetheless.

“Wolvie.” You smiled back, though you could feel it didn’t reach your eyes. And clearly, he noticed too, expression shifting from self-assured confidence to slight concern.

“You alright?” Logan had only known you for less than a day, and he already knew he really didn’t like seeing you despondent. 

“Yeah, fine.” It almost pained him physically seeing your eyes remain dull with your liar’s smile. That was something else he realised in that split second. 

He really didn’t like you lying to him.

“Uh huh?” Fuck, he definitely knew you were hiding everything. How the fuck could he possibly tell that? He didn’t even know you! You sighed heavily, hoping it would help your next half-truth.

“I’m just tired. Long day, lots of emotions. Are you hungry? I’m starved and was gonna make pasta if you wanted some,” You tried your best to steer the conversation away from how you were feeling. Once again it wasn’t exactly a lie. You were starving, having not eaten since this morning, and it was now ten in the evening. 

Logan knew you turned away quickly so you didn’t have to see his suspicion. If you weren’t ready to talk about whatever was bothering you, he knew he shouldn’t push. But, to his surprise, he found himself wanting to know. He wanted to know what was up, and maybe, just maybe, he could make you feel better. It seemed doubtful, but it was worth a shot. “How was your meeting with Charles?”

Your shoulders tensed, spine straightening. Gotcha.

“Yeah, fine. Just easing me back into life here basically. Nothing earthshattering.” Now that was a flat out lie, and once again you refused to turn around as you brought the kettle over to the tap, filling it to the max line before placing it back on the stand and flicking the switch. You found it easier to lie when you were busy doing something else and making pasta seemed perfect. Crouching to one of the lower cupboards, you pulled out the pack of wholewheat, refusing to eat any of the sugary white bullshit. Unfortunately, the one downside of busying yourself so remarkably well was that you weren’t always paying attention to what was going on around you.

For example, Logan walking up behind you to take the packet from your hand and place it on the counter. You turned, realising he’d given you minimal space to move. He was so close you could smell the gel he used in the shower. Woodsy and smoky, like a forest cabin. He smelt fucking great, but to be honest, you were too busy trying to avoid eye contact to care.

“S’that why you look like your pet just died?” You knew he was trying to be teasing, trying to lighten the mood, trying to create a comfortable environment for you to open up in, but you didn’t know him, and he didn’t know you. With a deep breath, you stepped to the side and out of his reach, opening the fridge to look for something to make a nice creamy sauce with.

“Look, Logan. I appreciate it, and what you’re trying to do, but at the same time, I don’t know you. And you don’t know me. So, and I mean this with the utmost respect, fucking drop it. I’m tired and I have genuinely had a long day, what more do you want me to say?”

Logan blinked. And blinked again for good measure. He wasn’t expecting you to be so sharp. He didn’t know why he wasn’t expecting it, but you really took him by surprise. That seemed to be all you were doing since the moment he met you. Though this one stung a little more than he cared to admit. “That might’ve been the nicest fuck off I’ve ever heard. But it was still a fuck off.” He shrugged. He knew deep down you were right. You didn’t know each other, and maybe was was expecting a little too much from a three-hour friendship. If he could even call it that. 

“I didn’t mean–” You turned back from the fridge just in time to watch his disappearing form leave through the door, hearing his footsteps recede back up the stairs. You cursed inwardly, hating yourself for how you handled the situation. Though, looking at the pasta on the counter, you had an idea as to how to fix some of this. 

It had been roughly half an hour since he’d left you in the kitchen, recognising you needed space, and in all honesty? Retreating to lick his own wounds. He didn’t know why he wanted you to open up so badly. It wasn’t like he had a long-lasting friendship with you. He met you today, for fuck’s sake. Only hours ago. Shit, this morning he still didn’t think you existed! Logan groaned at the memory of you shutting him down, wishing he’d handled the situation differently, and stopped prodding when he knew he should have. Fuck!

He’d just managed to resolve to come and talk to you, before there was a thump at his bedroom door, followed by another. That wasn’t any kind of fist knocking… 

With deliberate caution, Logan stood from his bed, shining claws sliding through his knuckles as he approached the door, only for his nerves to be calmed when a familiar scent wafted through the cracks in the door. He didn’t dare get his hopes up until he turned the handle, pulling the door open to reveal you, stood before him, two steaming plates of pasta held impressively in one hand, and two bottles of larger in the other, your foot raised to kick the door a third time. 

“Before you slam the door, I brought peace pesto pasta, homemade so you know it’s good.” You were honestly surprised he opened the door, though you eyed his claws cautiously. Who did he think it was?

Logan noticed your line of sight, retracting his claws to cross his arms, a brow raised. “Peace pesto pasta?”

You nodded. “Homemade, don’t forget.” Logan smiled slightly at the hope in your eyes. “And also beer so you physically can’t turn me down.” You raised the two bottles in your hand, and he sighed as if you were a nuisance. Unfortunately for him, that couldn’t be further from the truth. 

“Homemade peace pesto, beer, and…?” 

You stuck your tongue in your cheek. “An apology.” You reluctantly admitted, looking anywhere but his face. “Can I come in or are you gonna stare at me all evening? These aren’t the most balanced plates, been a while since I was a waitress so…” you mumbled in explanation, earning yourself a quizzical look.

“You were a waitress?”

“Yes and it was a long time ago but we can talk all about it if I can set these down somewhere they won’t fall on your feet,” you said hurriedly, borderline pleading with your eyes for him to let you in. It wasn’t as if he was about to say no, there was just something comical about the way you were managing to hold everything in your hands. 

With a click of his tongue, he gestured for you to enter with his head, closing the door behind you as you set one of the plates down on the window seat, rubbing the red skin of your arm where the hot plate had ever so slightly burned you. He instantly felt bad, crossing the room with the intention to take your arm to look at it before you stuck it into the shadow on the wall, removing it again to reveal your skin pristine again.

“It wasn’t that bad, just uncomfortable,” you shrugged, handing a plate and bottle to him. Logan shook his head at what he’d just seen, giving you a look of ‘fair enough’ before taking the plate and beer gratefully. How long had it been since someone cooked for him? Though you’d done it as a peace offering, it still warmed his heart slightly. That and the fact it smelt fucking divine. 

“I’m sorry…” you started, mindlessly poking your pasta around your plate with your fork after making yourself comfortable on his window seat. He guessed it used to be your window seat, but it still made him happy how comfortable you looked. “The Professor told me something in the meeting and… rattled me, that’s all,” you shrugged, popping a few pieces of green pasta into your mouth and chewing thoughtfully. 

Logan decided to wait for you to continue, cracking open the bottle top of his beer with his teeth. Raising a brow as you looked over at him in slightly disturbed awe. 

“How did you not just break your jaw?” you asked, flabbergasted at his seemingly endless pool of abilities. 

“Not much can break it, considering my skeleton’s adamantium.” Logan was starting to like when you gaped at him in shock, admiring the way you jaw went completely slack, eyes wide. 

“Wait, how don't you– ohhhhh…” It had taken you a while to notice just how much the bed dipped when he sat down. No wonder he was so ripped, he had to be that strong in order to fucking walk around. “Any other secrets you're hiding?” You asked, before instantly regretting the question when his eyes met yours.

“You wanna talk about keeping secrets now?” He asked curtly.

“Walked into that one…”

“Yeah, you kinda did.” 

You sighed, fiddling with the bottle cap of your beer. Not to remove it, just to feel the sensation of the almost serrated edges helped to ground yourself. 

“You know about my mutation, the whole shadow-walking thing?” You asked, to which Logan responded with a nod, finally taking a bite of the pasta you’d made. Your heart swelled with pride as he paused, looking from the food to you with an impressed smile. “So, turns out, it’s nothing like Kitty’s. It’s not phasing like we originally thought, but something totally different.” You started to explain to an intensely listening Logan. “Kitty phases through things. I actually become the shadows I enter. Like, it’s not still my body but just in the shadow, my molecules break down to literally be the shadow,” you could tell he was trying to understand, his head tilting slightly to the side in a way you genuinely found cute. “It’s like, I’m holding water in my bare hands,” you started to demonstrate, placing your plate and bottle down beside you to cup your hands in front of you. “And this, this is my body. My corporeal body. But, when I dive into shadows, that body breaks down,” your cupped hands splayed apart, fingers spread to simulate a liquid splash. Logan nodded thoughtfully through mouthfuls of pasta. “How Jean explained it was that my molecules are held together with some kind of thread, and I control that thread, but it’s a constant strain… Like, I can feel my body being held together. And it just… I don’t know. It scared me I guess.”

The room fell into silence as you finished your explanation, Logan setting his somehow clean plate to the side, leaning his elbows against his spread knees, beer bottle clasped in both hands. “I uh, don’t really understand what’s scary bubs, sounds like this is an opportunity to develop it, right?” he asked, eyes searching your face for any sign you were reassured.

You sighed, the back of your head softly hitting the wall behind you. “Well apparently we’ve been lucky so far, and my control over this string or thread or whatever the fuck is stronger than they thought but… I don’t know, I guess what first went through my mind was what would happen if the thread snapped. Would I just stop being able to shadow walk or–”

“Would you stop altogether, and be able to do nothing but shadow walk,” Logan finished, realisation dawning on his gruff features. You nodded slightly, not wanting to speak anything into existence. 

“Exactly.” You whispered, staring into your borderline untouched pasta. You honestly didn’t know what to do, and you didn’t know what could be done. Surely, at this point, it was just a matter of time, right? The thought hit you like a lightning bolt. If it was just a matter of time, you just burdened this poor man, who you’d only met hours ago, with the knowledge that, eventually, you were likely just simply dissolve into nothing, cursed to live forever in the shadows of others. “Anyway, yeah, that’s why I had a face like, how did you put it? Like my pet just died,” You did your best to imitate his voice, hoping to shit it would lighten the mood of the room, but it only earned you a look of sympathy.

Fucking sympathy. You hated sympathy.

You’d come in here in the hopes to make things right with him and apologise for how you were earlier, but the one thing you really didn’t want, and never fucking wanted, was sympathy. You sighed heavily, preparing yourself for whatever ‘I’m so sorry this is happening speech’ he was clearly getting ready to spill. 

But for the umpteenth time in the short while you’d known him, Logan surprised you. Taking your bottle of beer from your side, he cracked the lid off with his teeth, the same as before, before handing it back to you. You, as stunned as you were, managed to take it from his hand, the soft skin of your fingertips brushing the backs of his own. You smiled in resignation, raising your bottle in some tragic excuse of a toast. ‘To the inevitable’ you wanted to say, but you physically bit your tongue before taking a long sip of the slightly bitter liquid.

“It won’t come to that,” you’d forgotten, in the period of silence, that you were waiting for him to say something. You tilted your head in confusion, and it honestly took all of Logan’s willpower not to launch into you and wrap you up in his arms. He really needed to pull himself together. “Look, I was pretty fuckin’ helpless when I came here. And I know you remember the state Marie was in. Neither of us thought we were worth savin’, but look at us now,” in complete honesty, Logan still didn’t think he was worth saving, but that was neither here nor there. “He’ll help ya. You’ll get this under control. And it ain’t all bad. He already said you had more control than he thought,” You could feel his eyes search your face as you closed yours. Maybe he was right. Charles had said you had more control over these strings than he thought. 

Logan was right. That was a good thing.

“Well, we’ll see tomorrow. That’s when we really start everything. We have another meeting before we’re straight into training, seeing if we can really develop this mutation before I cease to exist. No pressure right?” You half-joked, your lips quirking up into what you hoped was a smile. Or, at least, a lopsided one. 

Fuck he wanted to kiss you. Kiss you. When the hell was the last time he’d felt like this toward anyone? He hadn’t wanted to kiss anyone in goddamn years, and here you were, a woman he didn’t even believe existed a few hours ago, waltzing into his life and making him feel things like wanting to fucking kiss you. 

“I uh… ya know I wanted to apologise too.”

Well, that caught you off guard. “Wh– wait what? Why? What for?” you couldn’t help firing off questions at speeds you didn’t know you were capable of, utter bafflement contorting your features. 

“You were right. I don’t know you. And you don’t know me.” Logan watched as your face transformed from confusion, to hurt, to acceptance. 

“Yeah…. I did say that didn’t I? I–”

“But,” he interrupted, stopping you mid-sentence. “That doesn’t mean I don’t wanna know ya…” Logan almost laughed aloud at how your eyes went comically wide. Did you know how cute you were? When you weren’t telling him to fuck off, that is.

“I– Uh, okay, sure… what d’ya wanna know?” you asked, hoping to fuck you didn’t sound ridiculous. If you didn’t, Logan didn’t seem to mind or care. 

“You can start of by tellin’ me how or where you learned to cook so well,” you scoffed loudly, rolling you eyes. “Nah I’m serious kid, that was fuckin’ great,” Logan leaned against the headboard, an arm positioned behind his head as you too made yourself comfortable again on the window seat, resting your elbow on your raised knee.

“Kid? Do you know how old I am?” you asked, smirking slightly. Though you were a little embarrassed, there was no way you’d show it. Kid? Did he seriously think you were that young? 

“Do you know how old I am?” he retorted, that same self-assured glint dancing in his eye. You peered at him in scrutiny, emphasising how hard you were looking at him by squinting intensely.

“I’d put you at around like, early thirties? Maybe mid? Am I hot or cold?” you asked, kinda hoping he was in the same sort of age bracket as you were. Not for any specific reason of course… just for… science.

Yeah. For science.

Though your heart deflated slightly at his bark of a laugh. “Not quite. Try mid to late hundred and thirties. Give or take a few years.” Once again you gaped at him, mouth wide open, jaw completely slack. He could get used to that sight. Dangerously used to it. “Take a picture bubs, it’ll last longer.”

“B-but… how–? Y–? Hundred and– what the fuck?” You couldn’t get over it. Though your mind was still reeling, you managed to recover quickly. “Why you don’t look a day over ninety. You’re in good shape for a fossil, though I was wondering why I was getting a lot of calls from museums recently… probably looking for their exhibit back,” you smirked wildly whilst Logan just stared at you, trying his fucking damnest not to let his disobedient lips quirk anywhere other than down. 

“Ya done?”

“I’ll probably think of some more. But, in all seriousness, how?” You asked, and Logan couldn’t detect anything other than genuine curiosity.

“Regenerative. I heal real quick, but that also keeps my body in good condition. Dunno exactly how old I am, but it’s around hundred and thirty,” he shrugged, and you whistled lowly. “So?” he prompted, and you looked up.

“So what?”

“How’dya make the pasta?” 

You snorted in amusement, before launching into an explanation about your brother and how he always had an interest in cooking and had taught you to cook simple things, like how to make a béchamel sauce, or how to make pesto from scratch. And if you weren’t so caught up in your storytelling, you would have noticed Logan drinking in every damn word like he was parched for conversation. Listening to you talk, the cadence of your voice, the way you pronounce every letter and the way you occasionally drop a letter, it was hypnotic. You didn’t have an abundance of energy, and whether that was simply because you were exhausted after the day you’d had, or if that was just who you were, he didn’t know. But honestly? He didn’t really care. 

As long as you kept talking, that was all that mattered. If he could take your mind off tomorrow, or your situation by letting you ramble about the smallest of things, he would. And he would pretend the whole time like he was doing this for you. And not because, at the end of everything, he liked listening to you. 

“Anyway, that’s how you tell the difference between a Thoroughbred and a Quarter Horse. And I will not make that mistake again.” You’d somehow weaved from topic to topic, the conversation ebbing and flowing for hours, you both taking turns in sharing random stories from your pasts, little anecdotes that gave context to who you both were as people now. And it was only thanks to the brief silence and the conveniently timed chime of the clock did you realise how late it was. Or rather, how early.

It was one in the fucking morning. How the hell did that happen? Your eyes slid back to Logan, who at some point had made himself comfortable on the opposite side of the window seat, and you watched as he had the same realisation. Holy shit.

“I should probably–”

“Look, you should–”

You both started to speak at the same time, before pausing to let the other talk first. It was gross and awkward and cringey but, for the life of you, you couldn’t find it in you to care. 

You stood, gathering your long abandoned, though now empty plate, and crossed the room to grab his from the bedside table. You heard Logan sigh heavily behind you in what you assumed was exhaustion. You couldn’t blame the man. You’d been talking for hours. 

Logan followed you to the door, holding it open for you as you stepped out into the hallway. You placed the crockery onto the floor, freeing your hands to wrap your arms around his neck in a similar embrace to the one before. Only this time, you felt his strong arms return your hug, wrapping you up tightly against his chest.

“Thank you. For letting me talk for hours. You don’t need to pretend you enjoyed it, by the way. But thank you all the same.” You stepped back, and Logan leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Yeah well, you brought peace pesto and beer. How could I say no?” He quipped, and you chuckled lightly. He wasn’t about to admit he enjoyed your company far more than he should have done, and he sure as shit wasn’t about to admit he wasn’t pretending to like it. His eyes softened at your laugh in a way he’d stopped them from doing all evening. “I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

You peered up at him, a knowing spark dancing in your iris. You noticed. Of course, you’d noticed. That was almost exactly what you’d said to him earlier. The same hopeful lilt and all. 

“Sure.” Was all you said in return, before picking up the empty plates and bottles off the floor, and turning away to head back down the hallway. You refused to look back, worried that if you did, you’d run straight back to his room and never fucking leave.

But if you had. If you had just turned to look over your shoulder, you would have seen him leaning against the doorway still, eyes following you down the stairs, and lingering still, long after you’d disappeared.

Yeah… he was definitely in trouble.

[fangirlika]

yes yes yes !! for a pt2 of learning hours because that was hot. thinking abt the build up to them actually realising their feelings after charles makes her feel good....AHHH

me too bestie, me too… but first of all, thank you for all of your feedback! And to fulfill all of you guys’ wishes, here is part 2 to Learning Hours! I decided against directly connecting it to where we left off in part 1 but I hope you still enjoy reading it <3

Study Break

MASTERLIST

pairing: Charles Leclerc x female!reader

summary: “I wouldn’t want it to ruin our friendship, you know?” “It doesn’t have to.” But oh how wrong you were… part 2 to this.

warnings: nsfw, smut, porn with plot?? who would’ve thought, fluff, bad French, reader and Charles in denial

“You fucked?!”

“Psst, Pierre, say it louder because I think not the entire paddock has heard you…”, Charles grumbled and looked around him slightly to check if anyone was actually close enough to hear them talking.

“Désolé, but how do you want me to react when you tell me that you and Y/n slept with each other?”, Pierre whisper-shouted now with a frown on his face.

Charles only rolled his eyes.

“Je ne sais pas comment c'est arrivé, but it has been happening a little more often these past weeks”, Charles admitted honestly whilst scratching the back of his neck. I don’t know how it happened

Pierre sighed and patted his friend on the back. “Oh, you’re in deep shit, mate.”

In deep shit he was indeed.

It’s been a little more than a month since you and Charles had sex for learning purposes for the first time but it definitely hadn’t been the last time.

After you gave him head he insisted on returning the favour to you immediately.

“Please”, he whispered against your lips, “let me make you feel good.”

You couldn’t turn him down, not then, not any of the times after that.

That day, Charles ate you out like a man starved, something your ex-boyfriend never dared to try out and really, you didn’t know what you missed out on.

Charles indeed made you feel good, he always does, and he probably gave you your most intense orgasm so far with his tongue alone. For the next few days after you couldn’t help but wonder what he could do to you with his dick.

And oh he did show you.

It was safe to say that with one single orgasm he made you feel better than your ex ever did in all of your time together.

After that, it seemed as if you two couldn’t stay away from each other.

Whether you two were at your or his place, whether it was in the evening or in the middle of the day - you almost always ended up as a tangled mess in bed or on the couch even.

But you were friends, that was what you were desperately trying to convince yourself of.

But all effort was without success because whenever Charles smiled at you when you were laying underneath him in bed or when you looked up at him while sucking him off, you couldn’t help but feel the butterflies erupt inside your stomach.

It wasn’t just lust, it was something else as well. Something you were yet too scared to narrow down and confront exactly. You were scared of ruining whatever the two of you had.

You should’ve probably broken up whatever deal you had going on weeks ago but it all also felt far too good to quit.

-

That is how you found yourself in the current situation, with his dick hot and heavy inside your mouth.

You two had been watching a movie together at his place - which one you didn’t remember, it didn’t really matter from the beginning on because since the first minute of the movie your mind has been on everything Charles did sitting beside you on the couch.

His arm was lazily draped around your shoulders and you were leaning into his side, something the two of you have been doing for years but it seems like now you can’t do this without it becoming heated afterwards.

You were half an hour into the movie before Charles turned your head to face him and pressed his lips to yours.

“I think it’s stupid to keep pretending that either of us is paying attention to the TV…”, he muttered against your lips and you just smiled into the kiss.

No matter how many times you and Charles had made out by now, he never failed to knock the air out of your lungs with how his lips moved against yours and how his tongue danced around your tongue.

“Wanna take this to the bedroom?”, Charles broke the kiss and mumbled. You could only nod your head, still breathless from the kiss, and Charles smiled before he pecked your lips once again and pulled you into his lap. He then stood up with you in his arms and made his way towards his bedroom down the hall.

During that, you started to press wet kisses along his neck and jawline, your lips sucking a little on the spots you knew made his breath stutter.

As absurd as it sounds, the two of you had almost developed a routine on how to get the other one into the mood, something friends certainly do, right?

Charles pushed open the door to his bedroom with his foot and in a matter of seconds he had you underneath him on the edge of his bed, his upper-body hovering above yours. He took a moment to look you in the eyes with a small smile on his lips before he pressed them onto the side of your neck, just like you did to him only mere seconds ago.

You couldn’t help but let out a small moan at the contact.

Your hands fiddled with the hem of his shirt in a silent plead for him to take it off. And he did pull away from your neck to remove his shirt. You used this moment to pull off yours over your head as well, lazily tossing it somewhere on the carpet for you to pick up later - or tomorrow most likely.

Charles' gaze immediately shifted towards your tits. Since you had only been lounging inside the house for most of the day, you decided to not wear a bra. Charles knew that, hell, he was hyper aware of your nipples poking through the thin cotton material of your shirt the entire day.

“I love your tits”, he said and moved both of his hands to knead them softly. You only let out a chuckle at that, followed up by a moan when Charles pinched your right nipple with his fingers.

“L-let me suck you off, yeah?”, you moaned out and Charles audibly let out a groan at your proposal before nodding his head.

God, he loved how forward you were in bed too. When you two started this, he expected you to be a lot more shy and hesitant but he took pride in the fact that you seemed to be so comfortable with him.

Charles' cock was already hard when he pulled down his sweatpants and boxers and stepped out of them, using his foot to push them towards the pile of clothing that started forming on the carpet.

Immediately you sat up, mouth watering at the sight of his cock in front of your face. You licked your right hand before you wrapped it around the base of his cock, observing his reaction thoroughly. You smirked when you saw how he screw his eyes shut at the contact and let out a silent moan, his mouth hanging open a little.

You stroked his cock a few times before you used your tongue to lick up the length of his cock and over the tip. Charles' hand made it’s way to your hair, pushing some loose strands behind your ears, almost lovingly.

Despite the situation starting to get thoroughly filthy, the atmosphere between you was calm and somewhat familiar.

“You feel so good around me, keep going”, he whispered in encouragement and let out another groan as you wrapped your lips around his cock and started to move up and down his length as far as you could.

You looked up at him and your eyes met. Charles could’ve come at the sight alone and therefore decided to gently pull his hips away so that he slipped out of your mouth.

You looked at him confused but he only pushed you back onto the bed by your shoulders. “Wanna come inside you”, he mumbled which made you smile.

“Okay?”, he asked for confirmation and you nodded.

“Yes, please.”

Charles gave you a quick kiss and then made his way down your stomach until he kissed the hem of your panties. One of his fingers pressed agains your clothed clit which earned him a whine from your mouth.

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties before pulling them down and off your legs. You slightly shuddered as your core got exposed to the cooler air of the apartment and the wandering eyes of Charles.

The first time he saw you completely naked, you were still a little nervous but seeing the way he looked at you somehow made all your nervousness vanish.

“Belle”, he whispered and pressed a kiss to your inner thigh. “Please, Charles, get on with it”, you whined which earned you a light slap to your clit. You moaned and bit your lip right after.

Charles was never too rough with you, not wanting to scare you away or hurt you in any way but little things like these - he couldn’t help himself when he got to hear you moan so sweetly afterwards.

“Bossy again?”, he teased when he got up from his sitting position in front of the bed. You only let out a huff at his words and wrapped one of your legs around the back of his to pull him towards you, eager to feel him inside you again.

Charles had already taken his cock into his hand, ready to line himself up with your pussy when an idea came to his mind.

“Ready for another lesson?”, he asked with a smirk.

He probably expected you to nod your head with the same eagerness you displayed before but you couldn’t help but feel a little sting to your heart at his words. They reminded you what this seemingly still was: lessons, only teaching you how to feel good - no feelings involved.

Charles noticed the brief change of your facial expression before you forced up a smile and nodded. He hated to pretend that all this was just for learning purposes, to him it was more than that. And your reaction gave him the small hope that maybe you felt the same.

Nevertheless, he didn’t say anything and just continued with his proposal: “Soo, we have tried some positions by now but one thing we haven’t done yet is your riding me”, he spoke while stroking the soft skin of your inner thigh. “Would you be interested in that?”, he asked with an underlying tone of nervousness in his question.

You clenched your core at the thought of you sitting on his dick and riding him even though you would definitely lie to yourself if you claimed you hadn’t thought of that before.

“Lay down then, Leclerc”, was your response and you gave him a challenging smirk, one he immediately returned.

“Your wish is my command, L/n”, he teased before laying down on the bed and leaning his back against the headboard. You straddled him and moaned when you felt him between your folds.

“Go slow, okay baby?”, he said and put his hands on your hips. You answered him with a nod and sat up slightly before you lined up his cock with your entrance.

You slowly sank down on him which made your rally feel him inch by inch. You held eye contact the entire time and your mouth hung open while his brows were furrowed together to handle the insane feeling that was being inside you again.

When you bottomed out you took a moment to adjust to his size again. In this position you felt even fuller than ever before.

Charles squeezed your hips slightly and asked: “You okay?” You nodded and started to move up and down in his lap slowly but surely.

It only took a few strokes before the dull pain of him inside you vanished and was replaced with the familiar pleasurable feeling you had every time you two had sex.

You started to build a rhythm of moving your hips up and down his length and felt the familiar warmth building up in your core.

“You’re doing so good for me, love”, Charles groaned out and squeezed your hips tighter to keep himself from fucking up into you. He liked you in control but it took a lot of willpower for him to restrain himself from speeding up the rhythm himself.

You kept your rhythm and started to circle your hips slightly as well which caused him to hit that spongy spot inside your core once again and made you moan out his name in pleasure.

“Feels so- so good”, you managed to stutter out. “I’m close”, you moaned out after that and you struggled to keep up the rhythm with your hips.

Charles noticed and finally started meeting your thrusts with his hips pushing upwards and even deeper into you with had you seeing stars in a matter of seconds.

“My god, Charles”, you almost screamed out when you came with trembling legs and clenching your core. The sensation of you coming all over his cock didn’t fail to push him over the edge as well. He continued to fuck up into you during both of your highs but his thrusts began to stutter and became sloppier with each one.

“So good for me”, he repeated and caressed the skin of your hips while he closed his eyes, trying to steady his breathing. You attempted the same but you were unable to keep yourself up anymore and therefore almost fell onto his sweaty chest.

The room felt hot and sticky, just like your skin and the only audible thing were your ragged breaths.

Charles moved his hands to caress your back in small, mindless circles. The action made you smile agains his chest.

The two of you stayed in that moment for a little while before you moved your head up to look him in the eyes.

What you didn’t expect was that he was already looking at you with an expression you still failed to read but one you had seen increasingly more often these past weeks.

You stared at each other with the same loving expression on your face for what felt like an eternity.

“Y/n”, he started but quiet frankly, he didn’t know what to say exactly. Charles generally was a confident guy but you somehow managed to have him at a loss for words most of the times.

“I think we can stop pretending that this is only for learning purposes”, he whispered and internally he was ever so scared of your reaction.

He didn’t know what he expected you to reply. Only in the far back of his mind he allowed himself to believe that he wasn’t alone with that realisation of his feelings.

Your response therefore came as nothing less but a surprise to him. “I don’t like saying it, but you are more than right, Leclerc”, you said with a smirk before you pulled yourself up a little and leaned into his face.

Charles laid one of his hands on your cheek before he flipped the two of you around so that you were laying underneath him again. He wasted no time in kissing you with anything he could give to you, trying to pour all his emotions into the kiss.

“Please be mine”, he mumbled against your lips.

“I’m already yours”, you replied breathlessly.

—————

Ahhh nervous for your reactions but oh please let me know what you think <333 I enjoyed writing this so much and aww I fell in love with Charles and Y/n here

here I’m tagging everyone who asked for a second part in the comments, I hope you don’t mind or else let me know!

@tempo-rary-fix @spicyclover @charlesswife @oscarissacsslut @dakotali @celine-xox @mysticalnightenthusiast @formulas-bitch @basicallyherondale @shyshva @teenagedreams-cl

[omgthatdress]

the major takeaway from last night is that Karl Lagerfeld was more of a personality than a designer and that Yves Saint Laurent was the clear winner of that rivalry.

For those who aren’t familiar, Karl Lagerfeld and Yves Saint Laurent were both fashion wunderkinds who emerged in the late 1950s, both appointed heads of major brands at the same time, and had very intense rivalry. Yves Saint Laurent took over Dior after the passing of Christian Dior, helped cement the brand as a major player in fashion, and then after a disastrous stint being drafted into the French army, built his own fashion brand that went down in history with its unique and diverse and always evolving looks.

Karl was always kind of behind Yves. He designed for a lot of major fashion brands, and managed to establish himself at the top of the game at Chloé, but he didn’t get his full on legendary status until he took over Chanel in 1983. This history of the Chanel brand was already pretty frought, with Coco Chanel modernizing and defining the fashion of the 1920s and 30s, but being forced to shut down during World War 2, during which she collaborated with the Nazis. Behind the Bastards did a pretty great two episodes on her. When the brand returned in the 60s, fashion had changed tremendously. Dior, Givenchy, Balenciaga, and Balmain had all taken over mid-century fashion, and now that aesthetic was being taken over by mod, the miniskirt, and the likes of Mary Quant, Pierre Cardin, and Paco Rabanne. So when Chanel came back it was largely seen as a stuffy old lady brand, which it remained until Karl took it over.

Now, this is where Karl actually did something really impressive that you honestly can’t take away from him: he took a fashion house in severe decline, one that had been in its flop era for literal decades, and he made it hip again, while still managing to stay true to the ethos that Coco Chanel had laid out.

Chanel is clean, minimalistic, and classy. It is easy to wear, effortless, and always extremely glamorous, which is what made it so iconic in the 20s and 30s. Given that the 50s and 60s were all about making a fucking effort, the thing that the brand managed to keep doing well was its suits. You know what kind of suits I’m talking about. Tweed jackets and midi skirts, neat tailoring, delicate pastel colors, pearls and camellias and chains. It’s not so much that it was edgy and exciting but it was expensive and it was *Chanel* and people wore it for the status symbol alone. That is what Karl took advantage of and managed to re-invent.

That sort of aesthetic fit perfectly into the you-can-never-be-too-rich-or-too-skinny 80s, when wearing status symbol clothing was everything.

Then, in the 90s, he managed to keep things exciting by following exactly what was on-trend at the time and incorporating elements of street wear and hip-hop.

However, after that, he kind of lost his edge and just rested on “it’s Chanel” rather than actually pushing the fashion envelope. By the time he died in 2019, he was a fucking dinosaur and fashion had long since moved past him. The thing that he was ultimately most well known for was his own very distinctive look and flamboyant personality.

Before I ever started studying fashion, I knew who Karl was because I’d seen him so many times, and I’d seen parodies of him so many times. I knew *him* but I didn’t really know his work. And I think having an incredibly boring Met Gala dedicated to him reveals that: his actual artistic legacy is skinnier than the models he used to berate. Karl Lagerfeld built his brand on his diva personality, and that sort of personality and outlook just isn’t hip anymore. Fashion is always about moving forward, and Lagerfeld’s beliefs should remain fossilized in the past.

[angelshadowsinger]

oh my fucking god your work is incredible! holy literal shit balls i have never felt that entranced by a fanfiction until reading yours. thank u thank u thank u your azriel is PERFECT.

also i’m totally gonna need your thoughts on azriel sharing with his shadows 👀

re: ummmmmmm call me parmesan bc u got me CHEESIN!?!?!! that is literally sO sweet of you to say, i am touched 🥺 as a fic author you always worry if you’re making the character OOC and, it just makes me so happy to hear your praise!! thank you so much anon~ ♥︎ This HC is a bit more than what you’ve asked for, but it does includes it, so pls enjoy!

Azriel’s Shadows Around his Mate Headcanons

･ ゜゜・．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

ɴᴏᴛɪᴄᴇ: ʙʏ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴇʀᴛɪꜰʏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴠᴇʀ 18 ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀ ᴍɪɴᴏʀ. ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ʙᴇʏᴏɴᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴅɪꜱᴄʀᴇᴛɪᴏɴ.

･ ゜゜・．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･．｡ ･ ゜゜・．｡･ﾟﾟ･

In my eyes, Azriel’s shadows are a part of him. There hasn’t been much insight that Maas has given us with shadowsingers and their capabilities in general, but this is what I choose to believe~

Since Azriel’s shadows were perhaps the first of his powers, and the first entity to treat him with some kindness/obedience, I think he would be very in tune with them and he himself would consider them a part of him. He has had over 500 years to develop his relationship with them and therefore, I believe once he found his mate, his shadows would be just as captivated with her as he himself.

Obviously, Azriel is a total simp for his girl (but that’s another hc in its own), so that means his shadows are too. Honestly, it could be viewed as annoying how often at least a few of his shadows are constantly at your side. He’s used to having them totally loyal to him, so now that he has to share them with you… well, it’s not really actually that cumbersome, because he knows that even when you two are apart, he’ll be sure to know if you need him/his help. Though he has a couple less to send out on his spymaster business, technically, the ones with you are acting as his spies anyway. Just, with a far more interesting and important subject.

His shadows do a variety of things for you, making your everyday life easier and more pleasant. Just as their master, the shadows like to give you princess treatment.

For example, they go out of their way to help you with mundane things. If you’re making dinner and a tomato rolls off the cutting board, they’re pushing it back to you. When you’re putting on a dress, they’re helping you with the zip and clasp. If you’re writing something and your pen runs out of ink, somehow they’ve procured a new one that matches your exact preferences.

Both Az and his shadows notice the small things. They take notes of your likes and dislikes, what makes you giggle, cry, or provides you comfort.

At times when he’s away for a long while, and you’re missing him, they will deliver small gifts to you. A couple flowers tied with twine, native to the strange lands he’s currently working in. A special spice he knows you love to use in the foods you share with him. An especially-delicious pastry made with your favorite fruit/flavor. Though the shadows themselves do not find you gifts, they are happy to deliver whatever Az requests they send.

They also will take anything you wish to send him. Whether he’s in another country, or simply training at the House of Wind with his brothers, his shadows will deliver your every gift. Most of the time it’s little sweets or a lunch you’ve packed. Sometimes when you’re feeling cheekier, a receipt from the lingerie store informing him of your latest purchase. If you’re really feeling brazen, sometimes the panties themselves. His shadows are perhaps happiest to carry those items, either to get into contact with them or to see their master’s red cheeks as he shoves them out of his brothers’ view.

His shadows are your caretaker when he is not with you. When you’ve fallen asleep staying up for your mate’s return from yet another mission, his shadows will tuck you under your favorite blanket, taking off your reading glasses and ensuring your spot in the open book on your lap is not lost. Az nearly melts when he comes back to the sight, you dead asleep on the couch in front of the blazing hearth, his shadows perched dutifully there, guarding you.

However, they grow attached to you and even when he is with you, they will not leave you alone unless he commands them.

Azriel likes to take full advantage of his time alone with you. There is nothing he finds more comfort and pleasure in than being in your embrace. Sometimes that’s hard to do, though, when his shadows steal away your attention, or beat him to helping you with the zip of your dress.

It’s a very endearing sight to see him get jealous of his own shadows. He’d have a scowl on his face as he glared at them, silently ordering them to leave your side so he could have you all to himself. The shadows would melt onto the floor, gloomy in a way, whisper once more around your ankle before they go off to fulfill their master’s instruction.

Most of the time, you manage to guilt your mate into letting a few of them come back. And as soon as he calls them, they appear and shoot right for you. Az rolls his eyes but of course he understands. How could they not fall in love with you?

Azriel is actually very good with sharing. This usually applies to you when his shadows are involved, though sometimes he just needs to be alone with you. Whether it’s to have his way with you or just to snuggle up and bask in his mate’s presence. When he needs time like that, he will have his shadows guard your quarters and they will do so without question— fiercely protecting the only two beings they care for.

~spicy hc’s begin ;)~

Most of the time, Azriel will take the lead in pleasuring you— as he should, as your mate— but he’s likely to let his shadows watch or join his efforts if they play a supporting role.

For example, his favorite thing is to be between your legs, feasting on your sweet cunt and making sure you know you are his, while his shadows hold you down so you can’t move an inch. This way, you have to take the pleasure in the exact way he desires, unable to greedily chase your high or buck your hips or push him away.

Usually he plays with you for a while like this, teasing you and edging you a handful of times before he’s ruthless, unstopping even after you’ve come. He does cease his ravishing after you’ve come again, only to ensure he doesn’t overstimulate you before he’s had a chance to fuck you like you both want.

His shadows are happy to shackle you and render you helpless to his onslaught of pleasure; they love hearing your wanton cries and will dry away any tears of pleasure that escape with a cool, ghostly caress.

Speaking of their caress, one of his favorite uses for them is to soothe your skin when he’s done marking it up. Meaning, after every spank or particularly hard bite, the shadows will rove over the irritated flesh, kissing you with their cooling tendrils.

Since the shadows are slightly cold, sending them to curl around your nipples while he fucks you from behind is also another favorite. The temperature-play heightens everything— especially when they move down your curves to tease at your clit or your ass, depending on your preference…

Sometimes he lets them fuck you as part of your foreplay— usually while you’re sucking his cock. He just loves the surprise that flickers in your eyes when you’re choking on the length of him deep in your throat, how your lashes flutter when that familiar cool touch tickles your inner thighs and pushes your wet panties aside, how your moan feels vibrating around him when they thrust inside of you. He savors how your rhythm gets thrown, how you struggle to continue when his shadows are running over every sensitive crevice of your most intimate parts.

On rarer occasions, Azriel will let the shadows have their way with you. He’d sit back in a comfortable, wing-friendly armchair, darkened hazel eyes drinking in every movement before him— you with your eyes rolled back in ecstasy, the darkness holding your legs spread and fondling every inch of you— cupping your tender breasts, tweaking those pert, hard nipples… stroking your face, your hair, your hips and thighs… flowing over your puffy clit, slipping between your dripping folds and even wandering inside of you, perhaps just as deep as Azriel’s cock could reach. He would jerk his leaking shaft at the sight before him, lip held prisoner in his feral snarl. He wouldn’t be able to last very long, the sight before him too much for him to keep his composure.

When you’re both spent and panting for breath, the shadows will run up and down your moistened back, taking away the heat that lingers there and helping to lull you to sleep.

Only when you’re unconscious do they return to Azriel, curling around his shoulders in thanks. They know they are lucky to be the sole creature/presence with which he shares his mate, and any time spent with you is valued payment for the many services they provide their master with.

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

LOTR and Hobbit NSFW Headcanons part 3

Faramir

- Is more about love making then he is fucking

- but if you’re on top he turns into a panting and moaning mess

- Loves to worship your body

- Wants you to take charge and take care of him

- Praise this man and he will moan and keen like nothing else

- Kneeling before you

- He’s such a good boy!

- Just wants to be good and please his partner

- Hates pain play. Do not do it

- Isn’t opposed to his partner being a bit rough with him but no slapping or choking

- Compliments is his foreplay

- “You did so well at training, sweet boy. I want to reward you for being so strong and brave.”

- Kissing your calves while in missionary

- He doesn’t have to thank you but he likes to

- Missionary and cowgirl are his favourite

- Doesn’t really like doggy

- Unless he’s getting pegged/fucked

- “You’re taking me so well, Faramir.”

- If he’s with a male partner he likes receiving in doggy and having their hands run up and down his spine

- Bending over him to whisper praise in his ear while he gets fucked

Bilbo

- Like with most hobbits, Bilbo loves eating pussy

- Has a thing for eating out his partner under their dress

- Pulls down the top so your tits are out and then he crawls under the fabric of your dress/skirt

- Loves to eat out his partner in his garden

- Laying on the soft grass while Bilbo goes to town on you under your dress

- Wants his hair pulled so badly that he will grab your hand to put in his hair

- Time with the dwarves didn’t change his softness too much but a little bit of dwarf comes out when you ride him

- He has no time for your “I’m too heavy” nonsense! Get on top now!

- Is honestly pretty lighthearted in the bedroom

- There’s never really an awkward moment he can’t laugh off and bring you back into the mood

- Wants to constantly reassure you how good you’re doing and how good you make him feel

- “You did nothing wrong my love. Doing so well for me.”

- Sweet quiet moans with lots of gasps

- Can be a bit of a perv but in a wholesome way

- Always stares when you bend over and tries to look up your skirt when you reach for things

- Isn’t opposites to penetrative sex but it’s certainly not his favourite

- Likes when his lover plays with him sweetly by the fire

- Wants to take care of his partner and be taken care of in return

Eowyn

- Dominant 100%

- When she says ‘sit’ on her face she means ‘SIT’ not hover and apologise

- Will grab your hips so you’re probably sitting

- Seeing you all sweaty turns her on

- Post training sexy time

- Sex in the training room when no one’s there

- “You have to be quiet if you want me to taste you. Can’t have someone walking in on us, sweetheart.”

- Likes to feel strong and somewhat masculine in the bedroom so will give you soft nicknames

- How she is in the bedroom depends on her mood

- Rough and dominant after training or battle

- But sweet and soft on those lazy rainy days together where you can take your time with each other

- Likes the thrill of sneaky sex, seeing where she can do it and get away with it

- Stables, training grounds, kitchen, hallways

- She can get so focused on your pleasure she forgets about her own

- Tries to put on a front and act like she doesn’t but she becomes so soft when you make her cum

Elrond

- Body worship!

- Will take his time with his partner, worshipping and kissing every inch of them

- Doesn’t mean to overstimulate his partner but they just sound so pretty when they cum over and over again

- Fucking from behind against his desk

- Is down for most of what his partner is down for

- If you’re into dominant play stuff he’s more of a soft dom

- Is the dom who will say “I’m not mad, I’m disappointed”

- Not against a bit of oral cockwarming while he works

- “Good girl/boy. Such a sweet little thing for me.”

- Loves to praise you and focuses all his energy on your pleasure alone

- Will never stop telling you how well you’re doing or how wonderful you sound and feel

- “You take me so well, my darling.”

- Sex is a whole event for him, from foreplay to aftercare

- Honestly sort of hates quickies

- Eye contact is his favourite

- “Look at me, my love. I want to watch as you come undone for me.”

Tauriel

- Get ready to be thrown around!

- Will hold you down hard to stop you squirming

- Craves making her partner cum so much that she’s almost mean

- Rough in the bedroom but could gently make out with her partner for hours

- Soft and sweet touches with foreplay but rough with sex

- Is the softest, sweetest and most gentle person with aftercare

- Hard eye contact while she’s going down on you

- Likes to watch your reactions

- Playing with you while she watches your face intently

- Your sweet sounds make her smile

- Cheeky and likes to tease you in public

- Wants to grab at any part of you that she can

- Not really a boobs or butt woman, just loves your whole body

[yeyinde]

omg if you could, would you please write literally anything about soap?? If not then would you possibly write some jealous ghost? (,,: maybe the reader and Soap are really close and fuck around together and ghost just watches from a distance until it's taken a little too far and he does something drastic ? Reader and Soap are goofing around and end up in a compromising position and ghost just yanks them apart and at first they're like "that was so unprofessional I'm in trouble oh no" but it turns out ghost was just enraged with jealousy lmaoo

i absolutely write for Soap (and Price, and Alejandro, and Gaz, and "Alex"... honestly, all these COD boys got me simpin something fierce). 

i'm so sorry this took so long—i had a lot of ideas about Soap, but i mostly wanted two pining idiots in a pub! i tried to add elements of the Ghost request as well (messing around, blink and you'll miss it Ghost jealousy), but i really just enjoyed that almost comfortably claustrophobic feeling you get when you're with someone who ensnares your full attention until everything just completely goes away. that "oh, are we still in public?" dazed feeling.

i really hope you enjoy this! 🖤

tw: none, mostly just fluff and banter; gratuitous use of Scottish slang

Ghost’s Version

He slides you a glass filled with amber, eyes dancing in the low, golden glow of the pub. Fairy lights. They catch on the green in his irises; a boscage in hazel. 

There is something warm in the air—the taste of victory, of scotch (Price insists, buys two bottles, and offers up Maduro cigars to anyone who looks at him)—and you cling to it, wrapping your hands around this feeling, and tucking it close to your thudding heart. It's comforting. 

Everyone is together again. Price knocking his hand against Gaz's shoulder, loudly telling anyone who'll listen about the time the kid was hangin' out a helo. Fuckin' nutter. Laswell nursing a glass, pad in her hands. Ghost beside her, eyes drawn to the names of men you'll eventually have to go after flashing in his dark eyes. 

Gaz shoots you a glance. Help me, it says. 

Your return smile, a wave. No way. 

If you get close to Price now, you'll never get loose. You'll end up walking away with the taste of a battle on your tongue, scotch in your belly, and cigar smoke clotting inside your lungs. He always leaves you feeling dazed, whiplash sick. 

It's best to avoid your captain when his voice is a raw scrape, a wheeze, after yelling in the trenches for so long. 

It might, of course, be said bottles of scotch that permeate inside of you; a low heat in your belly. You feel giddy with it. 

"A'right, bonnie?" His voice is a thick fog in the morning. A blanket of white over the pastures. Sun peeking through. 

"Aye," you murmur, riding a very thin line between that confidence only being a shade away from drunk can bring, and coy—coquettish. Teasing. It's been like this all night. 

(Maybe even longer—ever since he knocked his knuckles to your shoulder, bottom lip between his teeth to stem a grin, and said, not bad for a bonnie lass.)

Soap's hand jerks. The glass scratches across the tabletop. 

"Oh, aye?" He thickens his accent, lets the twang of the highlands congeal in the space between you. 

"That's it, bonnie."

He's close—leather, plastic; he smells of polymer and oak—and the flecks of caramel in his eyes remind you of the sun. So close, you can feel the rays scorch your cheeks when he leans in, when his white teeth flash, blinding, in your periphery. 

"That right?" 

"We'll make a Scot out of you, yet." 

It happens in between everything. 

A break in the clouds between rainfall—turadh. 

That's how most things happen with Soap, you find. Small moments here or there; little snippets. They stack up slowly, a steadily filling dam until the levee begins to crack, and crumble. 

It spills over; a splash. A lull.

He's meant to be teaching you cuss words that you can hurtle at your enemies, or a secret language meant for the two of you if you'd ever gotten into a tight spot together. Maybe, even a way to annoy your Lieutenant. It's slipped in somehow—between it’s a dreich day and whit’s fur ye’ll no go by ye! —and sits heavy in your chest.

Turadh. 

(Is there even a word out there more beautiful?)

His chin is pointed up toward the arching ceiling when he mutters it softly, a ghost, perhaps, from his childhood. It slips out like it wasn't meant to. Like it was lost somewhere in his mind, his memories, and slowly buoyed the surface, captured between trembling hands. A forgotten piece of home dipped in the evanescence of nostalgia. 

It feels like the end of a storm when his eyes drift to you. A crooked smile pulls at the corners of his mouth. 

"Heard it from me granny," he says, shrugging, bashful. "Heard a lot more than that, too. Cussed like a sailor." 

He says nothing more. His past, like most of the men whose company you keep, is a secret. Held tight to the chest under a thick bulletproof vest. Untouchable. Unreachable. 

Your fingers itch all the same.

"She definitely raised you well."

"Is that an insult?"

You flash a light smile his way. "If I wanted to insult you, I'd call your haircut naff."

"Cheeky little—," Soap huffs. "No one appreciates the mohawk anymore." 

"Did they ever?" 

He leans down, eyes honeycomb golden in the gloaming, and smells of alder and wych elm. "I happen to think so." 

The fissure splits. Water leaks. You wonder if he'd taste of the highlands. 

"You happen to think a lot of things," tremulous words, barely above a whisper, slip from the seam of your wobbling lips. "Doesn't mean any of them are right." 

"We'll see, bonnie." He motions for you to take your drink. "I'm sure you'll find I'm always right."

"Is the clause in that always ironclad?"

"Aye, and you best know it, lass."

Another word is learned— fadachd —when he smiles at you; a soft crook of his lips, shadows catching on the jut of his mouth. His eyes are warm honey; molasses. If you stare too long, you think you might just get stuck. 

A shudder, then, rolls through you. 

(You've had worse ideas, really.)

"You're not teaching me the good stuff," you pout, thumb brushing over the curve of the cup, dragging through the impression of your mouth left on the rim. 

"I'm not much of a teacher," he shrugs, bringing his glass to his lips. 

Your throat is dry. Eyes locked on the way his Adam's apple buoys with his swallows; on the smooth column of his neck, on the stubble that falls beneath his chin, jaws. 

You can't look away quick enough when he turns to you. His eyes burn into yours. The glass clinks against the table. 

"What do you want to learn?"

"Everything—," you choke, fingers curling over the cup. "I—I mean… what are some, y'know, stuff I can use on a date."

His voice is thick, raw from the alcohol he drank. "A date?" 

You nod. The glass is cool against your palm. You bring it to your lips, and let the sharp liquid sit on your tongue. 

"With who?" 

You mimic his shrug, swallowing. His eyes are on you. You try not to tremble. 

"Anyone. Just—," your voice is a rasp; a shade under a whisper. 

You take another swig—liquid courage—and try not to grimace. The alcohol burns through you. 

(His eyes are suns. Dizzying. Blinding.)

When you turn to him, you flash a slow grin; eyes lidded. Teasing. Kittenish. You feel a little bit like an imposter. "How do I get myself a Scottish man?" 

You can see him swallow. Hear the click in his throat. 

Beside his sternum, you watch his vein tick. Wonder, dazed, what it would be like to sink your teeth into his skin. To mark him as yours for the world to see. 

Soap— Johnny —MacTavish: all yours. 

You shiver. 

"A Scottish man, aye?"

"Well, if you teach me right, I'll know how to seduce one."

His elbow rests on the tacky tabletop, knuckles pressed into his chin. He leans over you until all you can see is him. 

"And if I teach you wrong?"

In the triangle of his arm and jaw, you find Ghost in the corner—sitting beside Price and Laswell (you wonder, for a moment, if any of them ever really stop) as they pour over documents—and tip your chin toward him. 

"I might end up with an Englishman."

Soap raises his head, peering over his shoulder. He pauses for a moment, eyes darting between his Captain and Lieutenant.

It's satisfying to hear him huff through his nose. A heavy exhale. You wonder if he's jealous. 

It makes you think of Madrid. Of that stunning woman draped in Chantilly. 

Aye, lass. It was a pleasure to meet you. 

You turn to your glass, mulling over what he might say in response, your comeback, but his grip on the glass catches your eye. 

His knuckles are white. Nails red, flat against the surface. 

"Soap—"

He turns back to you. The tight grip around the glass eases. 

When he smiles, it feels like a cloud cover, hiding away the blaze. "Lt? Might be good for him."

"Yeah…" you murmur, words quiet in your slurred panic. You don't know how to salvage this. The teasing, the banter—it was bordering on flirting, and now—

Distance. 

He's just Soap. And you're just you. 

(Aye, lass—)

It stings. Prickles between your ribs and your heart, and the ache of it makes the alcohol in your gut churn. 

"I doubt he'd go for it." 

"What? He's been keekin' you all night." There is a divot between his brow. When he turns his head, the fairy lights behind make his stubble look darker. "Yer aff yer heid!"

You blink, a small smile growing. "D'unno that one, yet, professor."

"It means: you're talking rubbish. He can't stop lookin' at you." 

He enunciates the words for you, even adapts a spiteful English accent to go with it, but it's the burn in his gaze that makes you feel like you're floating. Bubbly and light and reaching for the stratosphere. 

You don't want to lose this.

(The ever in that is ironclad.)

"How do you say I'm drunk?"

Soap shakes his head, tension dissipating. It's a relief when humour cuts into his grin. "Too many ways to count, lass."

"C'mon," you slide forward on the barstool, elbows perched on the table, palms cupping your warm cheeks. They feel blistered, sunkissed. "Just one? It'll even be the chef's choice."

"Oh, aye?" He mimics your pose, leaving only one hand to grasp the glass between his palm. He rolls it between his thumb and fingers for a moment, eyes downcast as he thinks. "Yer mad wae' it." 

You roll the words around your tongue. "Mad with it?"

"Aye." 

"I like it."

"Are you?" 

"Am I…?"

"Mad wae it?" 

"Just a little…"

Soap levels you with a look that knocks the wind from your lungs. "You're blootered, bonnie."

"Awa' an bile yer heid!"

Something sits in his brow at the sharp words that spill, unpractised, from your lips. A rumble in the distance warning of approaching rain. 

You think the deluge might drown you. 

"Careful, bonnie," his breath smells of scotch. Tastes like a sunburn. "You might just bite off more than you can chew."

The burn of the alcohol does little to abate the itch in your throat. 

"Bonnie," you murmur, numb. You can't hear much past the thudding in your chest. "Why'd you call me bonnie?"

(Aye, lass—

Bonnie. Bonnie. Bonnie—)

His head drops when he huffs, a soft laugh spilling—almost reluctantly—from his chest. He stays like that for a moment, head bowed and the corner of his mouth twitching. When he raises his head, his cheeks are stained rubescent. 

The alcohol, you think, dizzy. The world spins, and then narrows into a pin-drop where only the ruby smear on the bridge of his nose exists. 

"'Am no diddy, but—"

"Sergeant." 

There is a misty cloud surrounding you; a gossamer spooling over your eyes. You blink the cobwebs away, but they're stuck to your retinas. 

Ghost stands shrouded in the smog. His dark eyes slide to you. Endless black. Unfathomable. 

"Soldier." 

The command is clear. Stop muckin' about.

His voice is a warble when he speaks. Gruff, low. "Lt, comin' to learn some Scottish, too?" 

"Negative." He says, clipped. Then: "can barely understand these pissed Glaswegians as it is." 

"It's a lovely accent," you murmur, grinning. Stupid, dopey. It feels like waking up after a long nap on the beach. 

His eyes are liquid pools of black when they slide to you. "Bloody hell. Must have knocked your head one too many times if you think that's lovely."

"It was more of a smack." 

"Christ. With a rifle?"

You like it when he's loose like this. Relaxed. When he isn't barking out commands, and orders, and keeping a chasm between everyone. 

"No, with a hand." 

"Better see the medic. Don't need you suffering any more brain damage."

It's on the tip of your tongue— aw, you do care —but his words stick to the gummy lining of your scotch-filled head. Any more. 

You pout. "You're a stone-cold bastard, you know that?" 

Somewhere under the mask, you like to imagine that he's grinning. "Never said I wasn't." 

"What do you need, Lt?" 

Liquid eyes slide to him. "We're heading out. You stayin', MacTavish?"

He nods, sharp. "Aye. Might wander around Glasgow for a 'mo."

"And you, soldier?"

Ghost stares down at you. Soap's words surface—keekin' you all night—but you see nothing when you match his stare. When the heavy brunt of his full attention falls on you. 

Soap glances at you, eyes a half-sun. Your hands prickle. You wonder if wandering around might include a trip to the Cairngorms. 

(You imagine you could reach up and kiss the sun. 

Maybe, him, too, if he'd allow it.)

"I—," you tilt your head, nervous suddenly. "I'd like to learn more Scottish. If you wouldn't mind the company." 

"Aye, bonnie." There is victory in his grin. 

Ghost gives a sharp nod, and doesn't wait. 

You watch him leave, suddenly tense. Soap hasn't looked away from you yet. It simmers inside; another fissure. Another crack. The levee wobbles. 

"So…," he says, his voice a tickle in your ear. "About wantin' to seduce a Scot…"

"Not just any Scot," you murmur, eyes low. Framed by the hazy fairy lights, his grin feels like the sun cresting through a storm cloud. 

"Got my heart flichterin‘," he mutters. His hand is warm when it touches your wrist. "Wanna feel, bonnie? Feel what you do to me, hen?"

It feels like you're underwater when you nod. Like you've been dragged below the surface, then spat back up on the sandy shores, drenched in the rays. 

The heat kisses your palm when he presses it flat to his chest. His pulse hums under your lifeline; the grand wings of a bird fluttering in his ribcage. Your nails sink into his shirt, curling over the fabric until it's knotted in your fist. You could hold on to him forever. 

His eyes feel like a dawning sun when they land on you, wrapped in that equinox between day and dusk when you can still bask in the warmth that curtains over you. Liquid honey. Melted wax. It seeps over you, filling the cracks. 

(You, the earth; him, the sun: a perfect perihelion. You bloom under his cosmic heat.)

When you were younger, you'd stand on the hills, and gaze up at it in the aether. Your eyes narrowed into slits, watering from the blaze. The smile on your face was warmed under the rays. 

They warned you, then, when you'd come home with a headache, rubbing your tender eyes, that you'd go blind for it. That the sun would ruin you, that it wasn't meant to be stared at so nakedly. 

You think of it, now, when your eyes begin to crease. When the blistering intensity of him—luminous, bright, blinding –stares, open and raw, back at you. 

—you fucked in the upper car park at the Cairngorms, nestled near the base of a hill. he took you under the setting sun, and whispered how pretty you looked bathed in ochre and desperate for him

—it was Price who bailed you both out after getting slapped with public indecency ("haven't you two ever heard of doggin'?")

—he takes you to a football game for a proper date, your well-won Scottish man, but spanks your ass at home when you cheer for ManU over the Celtics; it's blasphemy in this household

—Gaz doesn't even want to know why you're barely able to sit in the chair, and why Soap looks so damn satisfied whenever you wince

(you tell him, anyway.)

translations (forgot these, oops)

—turadh: A break in the clouds between showers | dry spell

—it’s a dreich day: miserable day

—whit’s fur ye’ll no go by ye: what’s meant to happen will happen, or what will be will be

—naff: boring, rubish

—fadachd: yearning, longing

—keek: looking

—yer aff yer heid: acting stupid, someone that's too drunk or talking nonsense

—blootered: drunk

—diddy: coward

—flichterin‘: soft fluttering, as in the wings of a butterfly, or the flame of a candle.

—bonnie: used by older gens; used to describe someone pretty or attractive (is actually gender neutral - could be bonnie lass or bonnie lad)

—hen: used for a younger lady (can also be patronising) but kind of like sweetheart or honey)

[nathanbatemanfucker]

In Plain Sight, Ch 5: To Atomize

summary: nathan leaves his house to tell you he loves you.

pairing: nathan bateman x f!reader

contents: 18+/NSFW/MINORS DNI, enemies to lovers (sorta), boss/employee dynamics, mentions of sick/dying parent, pining, dom/sub dynamics, mid love confessions, oral (m + f receiving), p in v sex, creampie, squirting, NATHAN’S SO IN LOVE AND SIMPY AND FREE

wc: 6,138

an: we've sadly reached the end of the main story. thank you thank you for all the support on this fic. a girl watches ex machina once and suddenly is writing 20+k for an asshole simp. i do plan to write the extras fairly quickly (the next month or so) and they'll vary in length. i hope y'all stick around for more of them.

in plain sight masterlist | family dinner | tiana | TIONB | planted | little hamlet

You and Nathan are doing work out on the couch, your legs thrown over his. It’s all very domestic, something the both of you could get used to. 

He doesn’t look up when he asks, “That date out— do you still want it?”

“I do but honestly, I don’t think it’s realistic. You like being out here, Emma and Phillipa shouldn’t be at home by themselves for so long— not to mention my mom.”

“You don’t talk about your mom,” He observes, his eyes rising from his laptop to look at you. 

You continue your work as you talk, “There’s too much to talk about. And nothing at all.”

“And the vagueness returns,” There’s more bite in his voice than he wants there to be, but he can’t help it.

You notice immediately— going rigid like stone before you fix him with an empty gaze. “She’s dying. She can’t work. She sleeps most days. In the mornings before I come here, I read to her and when I get home I tell her I love her and kiss her goodnight. Is that specific enough for you, Mr. Bateman?”

Nathan just looks at you, his eyes for once, void of any emotion to tell you how he’s feeling. Nathan 3 months ago would have stormed away, or said something snarky. But, he just keeps looking at you. The silence makes you uncomfortable and your words replay in your mind over and over, guilt building each time. Your mother’s a tender subject, but Nathan is…more than anyone has ever been to you despite not making that clear to him. You open your mouth to apologize but he shushes, closing his laptop and then yours before he pulls you into his lap and holds you close. 

He kisses at your temple, your forehead, your cheek, “I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

It shouldn’t catch you off guard, his affection and tenderness but it does. You melt into him even as your walls go up inside. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not, honey. It’s not. Can you tell me what—“

“Cancer. Off and on since I was in high school.”

“You’ve been taking care of your sisters off and on since they were born?”

You shrug. It was true. In the moment, when you and your mother had made those decisions together— your father wishing and washing his way in and out of your lives whenever he felt like— they hadn’t seemed like a big deal. But, Nathan’s tone can’t help but make you realize how much you’d missed out on because of your duty to your family.

“Shit, honey.”

“It’s alright, Nathan,” You breathe. It’s not, it’s never been okay, but you’ve been telling yourself that for as long as you can remember. 

“It’s not. You’re a good fucking woman. You and your family deserve better.”

“They do deserve better. My sisters don’t have a time remembering her like I do. Before she got sick. That’s fucked up isn’t it?” 

“Yeah, baby, it is.” His hold on your tightens, a hand smoothing up and down your back. “Let me take you out for one night.”

“Nathan, I just said—“

He takes your jaw into his hands, intentional yet gentle with his grip as he guides you to look at him. Those big brown eyes are warm but firm. “We’ll do it in the city. I’ll pick you up from your apartment, you’ll be a phone call away. I’ll bring you home first thing in the morning. C’mon baby, you deserve a break. Let me give it to you.”

—

You agree to Nathan’s advances, like you always do these days. This date takes a lot of coordinating— but somehow it all turned out in your favor. Nathan jokes that it’s because of his god-like will. You’re just happy to take the breather when it’s presented to you. Emma gets invited to her first sleepover, Phillipa’s school is having a lock in. Somehow, Nathan had convinced you to accept him paying for one day of round the clock care for your mother so her usual nurse, Celia, could have a day off too.

You’re realizing that maybe you’re just as gone for him as he is for you. That you believe what he’s said about the depths of his feelings for you and maybe, you’re ready to take the next step and allow yourself to feel them openly for him too. How quickly the tide turns. How quickly Nathan had put in the effort to show how badly he wanted this— you. 3 months ago you could say with sincere surety that you did not like Nathan Bateman. And now…well you were sure you couldn’t deny loving him. 

He tells you to dress formally— it lands you in your favorite black dress, the one that always gives you a boost of confidence and makes you feel good. You’re going to need if your racing thoughts about how your feelings have deepened are any indicator for how the evening will go. And maybe, once or twice, you’ve imagined Nathan peeling you out of it when your fingers slipped beneath your waistband late at night.

When you open the door, Nathan’s in a crisp white button down and slacks, a suit jacket draped over his shoulders— your knees nearly give out. So do his.

“Fuck me,” He breathes.

“My neighbors can hear you,” You remind him breathlessly, your face hot as his eyes slowly trace your figure. 

“They should be lucky we’re not staying here or they’d hear a hell of a lot more. Fuck. You look incredible, baby.”

“My eyes are up here.”

“I’ve seen enough of those.”

“Nathan.”

“Can you fucking blame me? You walk out here in this tight little dress, one I imagine will stay on until after dinner, which is a fucking sin if you ask me. I’m giving commotion for the dress honey, it is what it is. Come here,” He reaches for you, snaking his arm around your waist so he can kiss you thoroughly. When he breaks the kiss he whispers, “Hi.”

Some of your nerves dissipate at his clear attraction to you, his sweetness. You smile against his mouth, bumping his nose with your own. “Hi. You look so handsome.”

“Thank you,” He murmurs, a smug grin spreading across his face. 

“Patience and good manners, you’re a changed man yet.”

“Does that mean if I ask to feel you up in the limo, you’ll say yes?”

“My neighbors, Nathan,” You remind him sternly, though you’re still smiling. 

“Stuffy old fucks probably need a good show.”

“Walk.”

—

The limo ride to the nearby docks is 40  minutes with the traffic — and he helps you out like a gentleman, guiding you to a moderately sized boat. It’s impressive, all cream and blues, the 

“Nathan, why is there a helicopter next to this boat?”

“In case you need to get home,” He says simply, if that explanation is enough. 

“In case— we got here by limo.”

“You’re a phone call and a 10 minute helicopter ride away from your family.”

How were you gonna make it through dinner without dragging him to the ground so you could ruck up your dress and fuck him? He was saying all of this, doing all of this so nonchalantly, like it isn’t the nicest thing anyone has ever done for you.

He leans in, mouth and beard tickling your cheek as his whispers teasingly, “This is usually where people say thank you.”

You lean away, giggling a little. Your tone is suggestive, “What if I’m saving my thank you until after dinner?”

“Finally gonna show me some of those methods? It’s been driving me fucking nuts, honey.”

“Depends on how good you are.”

Nathan bites back a moan. This is all so fucking surreal. Being out of his home, being with you. Learning more and more about you, seeing you. Being yours and you being his. It’s more than he could’ve hoped for. He thought he would’ve fucked up by now— and he has, but you held a selfless amount of patience in your heart. He finds himself feeling…grateful? It’s an unfamiliar feeling, one he pushes away from a young age. 

“Don’t be filthy before dinner,” He murmurs lowly.

“You‘ve been eyeing my tits since you picked me up,” You challenge. 

“I’ve been appreciating them, there’s a difference. You ever been on a boat before?”

You eye the boat thoughtfully, “My mom used to take me on the ferry. Does that count?”

Nathan hums. He hasn’t ushered you onto the boat just yet, the two of you standing out on the docks in the salty breeze. It’s nice, being out in the fresh air like this, the water dark as the sun finishes dipping below the horizon. He’d anticipated much more anxiety given his hermit tendencies but it was just you and him and the few staff he’d hired to manage the boat. 

“Do you want to name it?” He blurts out all of a sudden.

“Name what?”

“The boat,” He nods towards the ship. 

You frown, confused. “You haven’t named the boat?”

“I bought it last week.”

“Nathan, did you buy this boat to take me out on a date?”

“Yes I did,” He says with no shame. 

All of that will be an adjustment, the blasé way that he spends money— especially when he spends it on you. You know that he has a fuck ton of it but still; you’ve never lived a life of luxury. 

“Do all employees get this sign-on bonus?” You tease.

“Hush, cheeky girl. Name the boat.”

You grow thoughtful, and that thoughtfulness quickly melts into a melancholic, wistful feeling. You think about your mom. How she’s been swayed back and forth by the tide of life, doing her best to float above it all. It would be nice wouldn’t it, to name something after the woman you love most?

“Boats are named after strong women. So I think…Tiana,” You murmur, voice full of emotion. You clear your throat quickly, hoping he doesn’t notice. 

But Nathan’s obsessed with you— and now that you’ve let him in, he can sense every push and pull. He maneuvers you so that your back is flush with his front. “I like it. Tiana…is that your mother?”

You don’t trust your voice. You simply hum, nodding a little bit as you press back against him. 

He squeezes you tighter, “It’s perfect, baby. Absolutely fucking perfect.

He cups your jaw with one hand, guiding your gaze to his. He’s never seen you nonverbal like this before, never seen sadness in your eyes like this. It makes his chest ache. He guides your mouth to his, kissing you with gentle reverence you never would’ve guessed he was capable of until recently.

Nathan just holds you, letting you melt against him in silence for an undetermined amount of time. His worry grows. “Do you want to call the nurse before we sit down for dinner? Emma? Phillipa?”

Finally, you speak. “No. No, it’s alright. I spend the entire day away from all of them when I’m working for you— I can do this.”

“Just say the word, okay, sweetheart?”

You lean in to give him a soft peck of appreciation, “Yes, I will. Thank you, Nathan.”

Dinner is much more elaborate than it had to be— but this is Nathan you’re talking about, a man with practically the entire world at his fingertips. Of course a 10 course meal makes sense to him. Not that you’re complaining about a personal sized crawl through Italy; breads and antipasto, pastas of all sorts, wines that are perfectly paired, and to end your favorite dessert from the first time the two of you shared a meal together. Despite his underestimating himself and his chaste manner, you think that Nathan is good at romance. He’s great at romance. By the time you’re finishing the last bite, you’re warm and full, a little buzzed and most importantly— needy for him. 

Your entire body is craving his. You’ve denied your desires and his for long enough. You need him, you feel like you might go insane with lust— with love, if you don’t have him. 

“Are we sleeping here?” 

“There’s a suite downstairs, or there’s a hotel nearby I reserved. It’s your call.”

“Here…here is good. Will you take me to bed?” You ask, nonchalantly. 

Nathan chokes on the wine he’s sipping, setting it down to looking at you more intently. “Take you to bed,” He repeats.

“Yes, Nathan, take me to bed,” You practically purr at him this time, voice low and smoky.

Nathan has had  lots of sex in his life, never been flustered or taken aback by anyone. He’s accepted that all of his past experiences go out the window when it comes to you, but he doesn’t expect such a strong reaction out of himself when faced with the opportunity to finally ravish you. He feels like if he stood up right now, his legs would give out like jello. 

The way you’re looking at him— he’s sure no one has ever looked at him like this in his entire life. Carnal and hungry, like when you kissed him breathless in the forest, but more intense. It’s almost overwhelming. He’s never been consumed before, and that’s exactly how you’re looking at him. Like you’re going to swallow him whole. His cock twitches and he takes a deep breath.

“Come here,” He says softly, pushing away from the table and holding his hand out for you.

You stand, moving closer to him but don’t take his hand. “If I touch you…if we start here, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.”

Nathan feels winded. He squeezes his eyes shut, and nods. “Fuck, honey, alright. Follow me.”

Nathan guides you through the dining room and down a hall, not even bothering to mention what doors the two of you pass. His heart is pounding in his chest— he’s ready for this, been ready for so long and he wants this to mean something. He had been ready to wait as long as you needed in order for this moment to be everything it can be. 

The suite he takes you to is larger than you anticipated it to be, but you can’t bring yourself to care. As soon as Nathan shuts the door behind you, you practically launch yourself at him, your hands starting at where his shirt is tucked into his pants. You ruck it up, leaning forward to kiss him.

“Whoa, mmm,” He hums into your mouth. His hands finally fall to cup your ass, kneading and squeezing the way he’s wanted to for hours now. “You been this desperate the whole time?”

“Have you?” You counter as you press him against the door, grinding your hips against his. You can feel him through the fabric of his trousers, and it makes your mouth water. 

“Fuck, baby, lemme get you on the bed at least,” He breathes when he feels the way your hips rut.

You pull away, looking at him with bright but hazy eyes— like he’s just come up with some revolutionary idea. “The bed, right. Come here.”

You start to walk backwards, guiding him with you by his shirt. Once the back of your thighs hit the bed, you switch positions with him, encouraging him to sit down so that you can straddle him. Nathan feels weightless— this is like his dream come true. Just a couple months ago he was jerking himself off imagining a sight like this, and now he was living it. 

Looking up at you, he feels warm. Fuzzy. Like he’s in the safest place he’ll ever be in. With his limited data and hope, trust— things he’s never had with anyone— he knows that he is. This is all he’ll ever need. You’re all he’ll ever need. He loves you so much it hurts. 

“Baby,” He sighs, guiding your mouth down to his. Where your mouth is hurried and insistent, his is lazy and indulgent. He wants to savor every moment.

“Hmm,” You hum grinding down against his clothed cock in a move that makes both of you moan. 

“I fucking love you.”

You lean away, eyes wide with alarm. Part of you, most of you, thought that to be true. Well— whatever he was capable of feeling that was close to love. He’s proved himself to you. All of his intentions, his actions, his words— no matter how haphazard he’s been in communicating them— have been pure. While just a few months ago you were sure Nathan could love no one but himself, you’re sure now that he’s being completely honest. It sends you further into your frenzy. He loves you. 

Nathan Bateman fucking loves you. 

You’re quiet for so long that he feels antsy. There’s no regret, no anger in his heart like he thought there could be when first pursuing you. But he is starting to feel small, like a nuisance like his parents made him feel all those years ago. 

“Really?” You ask breathlessly, unsure if it’s from his declaration or your body’s response to being pressed against him like this. 

He scoffs, squeezing your hips, “Really? You think I fucking—“

“Okay, alright, I love you too.”

“Really?”

You fix him with narrowed eyes. Of course you get scolded but he gets to do the exact same thing as you. It’s very Nathan. It makes you love him more. 

“Nathan.”

“My really is fucking justified, I’m some asshole, you’re…you’re the moon. The sun. The sky. I’m not good at this poetic shit but I mean it.”

“You’re the sweetest, most thoughtful, insightful and just— kind. I know what you’re thinking, I know that something or someone’s taught you not to think that you’re kind and worthy but you are. Even if you’re an asshole and a clown, you are. And I love you.”

“We’re fucking corny and sickly sweet and so cliche. I could vomit,” He says, his grin wide and genuine. 

You nuzzle into him, laughing softly at the tickle of his beard, “You would study it, see if it quantified any of your love for me.”

“So you think I’m disgusting,” He murmurs, using his grip on you to rock your hips down against his cock. 

The pressure is sweet, and you shiver even as you try to get your voice even. “Am I wrong?”

He laughs a little, eyes fluttering when you help him rock you down even further, “No.”

You reach up to remove his glasses, bending to set them on the side of the bed— you didn’t want to break them, now with how you were about to ravish him. “Kiss me, Nathan.”

Usually, he needs to be told things once, twice, and again but this request Nathan obeys immediately. His hands start to travel up your body, fingers sliding under the fabric of your dress to expose inch after inch of your precious skin. His eyes are closed as he bares you to him, pulling down the cups of your bra so your breasts spill out, but he can feel how beautiful you are under his fingertips. Smooth and soft, fitting perfectly in his grasp.  Every touch, every kiss is electric. His hands skate up your stomach, cupping your breasts before he takes your nipples between his fingers, rolling them gently.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck, you feel so good. So good,” He mumbles into your mouth, his fingers still working, eager to hear the soft little sound you made.

You melt into him, nodding frantically as you continue to sip from his mouth. “You too.”

Nathan breaks away from your mouth, biting and kissing his way down your neck, sucking a faint mark into your skin. More. He wants more of you, and you more of him. He kisses a trail between your breasts before leaning in, suckling one of your nipples into his mouth. You taste so fucking good. Like honey and cocoa, so delicious. Not for the first time, Nathan thinks about how much he wants to consume you. Or be consumed. He can’t choose, his head is spinning and he’s getting more frantic, shaking beneath you as he sucks and nips at you. 

You can feel yourself getting lost in him, but this isn’t what you’ve thought about all these months. He feels incredible, his mouth is warm, his hands sure. The pleasure that’s blooming all over your body is one you'll never give up. But, no, for all these months, you’ve thought about turning him into a whining, shivering mess. You’ve thought about making him cum over and over until he can think of nothing but you. 

You lean away, cupping your face in your hands,  “Wait— please, let me touch you. I get off all the time, but I haven’t touched a man in so long. I wanna see you.”

“Honey—“

Your hands fall, gripping his shirt and ripping at it. Buttons scatter as you work him out of the shirt, leaning in to coax his mouth open for you once more.  “Let me make you cum. Please, I need it.”

“That’s what you want?” He asks skeptically.

“Yeah, and you’d give me anything, wouldn't you? You ask, tilting your head at him expectantly.

“I’d give you anything,” He confirms.

You slid out of his lap, reaching behind to unclasp your bra and discard it. It leaves you in nothing but black lace panties. “Then take your pants off.”

All Nathan can do for several moments is stare at you, his mouth agape, ready to drool. He could believe he’s died and gone to heaven, except he doesn’t believe such a place exists. And if he did, he would not end up in a place where he would be so privileged to be met with the sight of you. You're an angel in the most sinful way.

“Nathan,” You coo when he doesn’t move, a soft grin on your face.

“Sorry,” He mumbles, a soft blush rising in his cheeks. 

It’s adorable, it makes the heat in your lower belly burn brighter. You can feel yourself getting wetter for him by the second. “I thought about you like this so much.”

“Could've fooled me,” He heaves, trying to seem less affected than he is. That boat sailed the moment you asked him to take you to bed. 

You laugh softly at his words, dropping to your knees and resting your hands on his broad thighs.  “Don’t be snarky, baby, just let me make us feel good. You want that don’t you?”

Nathan shivers, even as your warm, honeyed voice glides across his skin. God he knew you’d be like this, knew he’d bend to your will so easily but to hear it and feel it. “I do,” He sighs, allowing you to guide him to sit down on the edge of the bed.

Your eyes are dark with hunger, and you lick your lips a little as you look up at him. “God, your cock’s so fucking pretty. Can I put my mouth on you?”

“You can do whatever you want to me,” He whispers earnestly.

You aren’t gentle or patient or thoughtful about letting him adjust. You take Nathan’s cock completely, so deep that he feels like he’s starting to enter your stomach. It takes everything in him to keep his hips down, a will that crumbles when you swallow, your throat tightening around him. The sound you make is a cross between a gag and a satisfied hum. You pull off without missing a beat, spitting on the tip of his cock and lifting a hand to grip and pump him.

“Mmm, shit, that’s really…that’s really fucking—“ Nathan babbles incoherently, words cutting off. 

You start in on him again, your head bobbing up and down as you take him over and over again. The noises he’s making have you squeezing your thighs together. Soft and breathy and so so sweet. You peer up at him wanting to see how he looks. The flush in his cheeks is deeper and redder, his eyes somehow sharp and hazy all at once. Seeing him so vulnerable, gooey and nearing the peak of pleasure you don’t stop, sucking harder, allowing the tip of his cock to go deeper.

One of his hands falls to your shoulders, gripping it gently, “Wait— wait— fuck, hold on baby, just,”

Carefully, you pull off of him, wiping at the trail of spit that connects your mouth to his cock. You look up at him with those sweet little eyes, like you haven’t nearly sucked what little of a soul lies within him. “Hmm?”

“Wanna cum inside you, please.”

“This is you cumming inside me,” You challenge, kissing at the head of his cock.

“Inside your pussy,” He gasps, the vein that trails down the center of his forehead on display as he fights to stay still—as he holds back.

You rest your head on his thigh, looking up at him like he’s hung the moon. The sight alone almost makes him cum. 

“Say, please,” You whisper.

“Please, sweetheart.”

“You’re so good, do you know that?” You ask him softly, reaching up to cup his face. 

“Good?” He asks with a furrowed brow. The word directed at himself feels clumsy in his mouth. 

“Good,” You repeat as confirmation. “So good that you’re gonna lay back against those pillows without another word aren’t you?”

Processing your words, he simply nods, helping you to your feet before he scoots back, propped up against the pillows, looking so devilishly handsome. If you stared at him long enough, you’re sure you could cum from just this sight. But why torture yourself like that, when you’re this close to having him buried inside you? Body humming with anticipation you crawl up the bed, straddling him once more. 

“Do you want to feel how wet I am?” 

“Yes,” He answers quickly before tacking on, “please.” 

That sentence alone shows just how much Nathan Bateman is a changed man. Please without being promoted? Atop apologies and vulnerability and love confessions. 

You hold your panties to the side for him, “Go on then. Touch me, baby.”

Nathan’s eyes track to where your pussy runs along his cock, burning hot. He reaches for you, letting his fingers sweat through your folds, causing both of you to moan. You’re so fucking wet, dripping, glistening in the warm lamplight. 

“For me?” He asks, voice and hands trembling as he finds your clit, pressing his thumb against it.

“For you. Because you’re so fucking good for me. Good to me.”

Every fucking word out of your mouth pulls his closer to his release. He needs to be inside you, he can feel the clock ticking. “Can I fuck you now, honey? Please, I need to feel you.”

“Who knew Nathan Bateman would beg?”

“On my knees for the rest of my fucking life, baby.”

You can picture it, except in your dreams, Nathan’s beard is shining with your slick. Your breath catches, and you grow too needy to continue teasing him. It takes you just a few seconds to line him up with your entrance, giving neither of you time to adjust as you sink down on him completely. His back arches, huffing a heavy, labored breath. He’s sweating, he can feel it, his skin slick underneath your fingertips as your pussy grips him so deliciously tight. You’re dripping down his cock already.

“Fuck, honey—,” He laughs, squeezing at your hip, nearly pushing you off to hold on. “Fuck me, you couldn’t have— warned a guy?”

“Sorry,” You breathe, grinning down at him, “needed to fuck you.”

Nathan’s eyes roll as you rock your hips, completely breathless, “Shit—your pussy’s so fucking tight. So hot, you been saving this all for me?”

You bend, your nose resting against his as you gaze into him, “Savor it— don’t think. Don’t control. Just enjoy it, Nathan. Be with me. Give in to me. Say yes.”

“Yes,” He slurs, drawn out and drunk on you. 

You guide his hands to either side of his head, holding them down by his wrists as you start to move, your pussy taking his cock the way your throat had with even more ease. The two of you fit together so perfectly, your cunt swallowing his entire length over and over, pleasure mounting higher and higher inside you. Nathan’s winning the fight against his body now. He’s happy to submit to you, it feels so good, so perfectly sweet, like he was made to be underneath you like this. But his body screams for release, to roll you over and fuck you hard until you squeeze his cock so tight there’s no choice in his cumming.  

“Wanna cum…wanna cum in your pussy,” He whines, his hips lazily rocking up to meet yours. 

“You will baby, I’ll let you fill me up,” You assure him, slowing the rhythm of your hips, teasing yourself and him for a moment as you close your eyes and let yourself really feel every single inch of him.

Nathan’s lips are parted slightly, pink and flushed, soft gasps leaving him as your hips grind down against his. You remove one of your hands from his wrists, leaning back so you have room to run your thumb over the swell of his bottom lip.

“You okay, baby?”

“Yeah,” He says, his words syrupy, “feels good. So good.”

“Let me in there,” You murmur, tapping two of your  fingers against his lips, and he opens wide immediately. You purposefully clench your cunt around him, a small reward for his obedience and he groans, his back arching as pleasure burns in his veins. 

“I’m gonna soak your cock,” You tell him matter of factly.

Nathan’s eyes go wide, his chest rising fast as his lungs beg for air. No matter what he does its not enough. He’s drowning in you, there’s nothing he can do about it. There’s nothing he really wants to do about it. “Soak my—“

“Nice and wet, all over you. Gonna make us messier,” You whisper, like the sound of his cock gliding in and out of you isn’t already obscene. “You want that don’t you, Nathan?”

He doesn’t have words, just soft, needy sounds. Pleading round eyes. Shallow, noisy breaths. It’s all the answer you need.

“I know, baby. I know. Cum whenever you need to, I’ll make it,” The gentle tone of your voice doesn’t match the devious look in your eyes. 

You know exactly what you’re doing. You know his cock aches with the need to release, know he’s fighting this because he never wants this to end. Know that he’s never been this deep in subspace in his life, that he’ll obey any command you give him.

You shift up on your knees, until you’re taking nothing but the tip, and then rock back, taking him as deep as you can. Bending to your will, Nathan cums with a sound that can only be described as sweet agony. 

As he fills you up, your hips slip into a grind, pressing and pressing the tip of his cock against the sensitive spot inside you. You can feel it coming now, you know just how to twist your hips, just how long to rub at your clit to make it happen. Your thighs grow tight, your cunt clenching as it starts to milk him for everything he’s got. You gush around him, the sound so wet and filthy that Nathan thinks he might cum again. Your slick is everywhere; your thighs, your stomach and all over Nathan, his lower belly glistening with you. He looks down and groans again, need rising sharply in his chest. He wants to taste you. 

“Let me taste you, please. Drown me,” He begs, one of his hands shakily reaching for where the two of you connect.

Your hands fall to the pillows on either side of his head, propping you up from where you’d since collapsed onto him. “Nathan, baby, you’re tired—“

But, Nathan is desperate— as desperate as you were when you asked him to take you to bed, you can hear it in his voice as he pleads, “Sit on my face. Please, please, please, baby. Fucking, please. Let me eat your pussy.”

Your lost to him and his begging. With the little strength you have left, you shuffle up, getting you thighs on either side of his head, gently lowering yourself down through the burn of your muscles. Nathan has another idea, weakly reaching for you and effectively smothering himself in your pussy. Its messy, the sounds of his mouth as he licks and sucks at your clit like a starved man. Like you two hadn’t just stuffed yourselves full at dinner. 

“Nathan,” You mumble, trying to steady yourself by leaning against the headboard. His beard tickles against your thighs, but makes the work of his mouth even better, brushing each and every bit of your sensitive pussy.

Despite your plea, Nathan is insatiable, pulling you down by his grip on your ass. He’s gasping and whining into your cunt, like it's all too much and too little at the same time. He can hardly breathe with how firmly he’s got you pressed against his face, though he wouldn’t change his position for the world. He would happily die here if it was what you wanted.

He can feel your thighs shaking against the sides of his head and knows that you’re close to cumming. Doubling his efforts, Nathan switches from running his tongue through your folds to focusing solely on your clit, circling and circling in a maddening technique. When you fall apart on his tongue, he presses his tongue inside of you, eager to drink up every single drop of your sweet honey. 

He feels like he’s cumming again, his cock jerking behind you though there’s nothing for him to release. He feels like he’s been split right open, all of his tender, vulnerable spots on display.

It takes several minutes for Nathan to come back to himself once you shift off of his face, laying your body against his. He’s gasping for air with tightly shut eyes, his entire body shaking. You run a hand up and down his chest, cooing soft praises as you try to soothe him. 

He stares at the ceiling, steadying his breaths. “Jesus fucking Christ, baby. You’re the filthiest person I’ve ever met.”

You tilt your chin to look up at him, admiring the shine of his beard that’s completely covered in you. A mark that he’s yours. “Thank you.”

The grin on your face— you’re trying to fucking kill him. How many times has he thought since he’s started this endeavor of winning your heart and why is it not over now that he has? Your grin is smug, full of fire, the fire he’s wanted from the moment he laid his eyes on you. He loves you so fucking much. If this is what he gets, he’ll be better for the rest of his life. He’ll move to the city, do the house in the crowded suburbs with the picket fence, get married. Have kids, and attend the most boring PTA meetings that plan bake sales. Bake sales where he’d have to make cookies— real cookies, not the ones with coconut sugar and almond flour, and low sugar chocolate. If it was what you wanted he’d do it all. Any of it at the drop of a hat.

“What are you thinking about?” You trace small shapes on his chest, enjoying the post-coital cuddle. 

“You.”

“What about me?”

“That you’re everything,” He says easily. It’s nice— the reservations, the anxiety that he had about all of this has faded in the shadows. 

With you, Nathan gets to be completely honest, knowing that he’s safe. None of what his parents said was true. He’s not unlovable. He’s not selfish. He isn’t just a fuck up that can never amount to anyone’s expectations. Despite his mistakes, he’s allowed to be loved. 

“Remember when I was just your employee?” You ask teasingly, snuggling further into him.

“Fuck, I was an idiot for months. Best thing I’ve ever had, dangling in front of me in plain sight.”

“Not Bluebook?”

“No.”

“Or buying that property?”

“No.”

“The money?”

“No.”

“Your freedom?”

He snorts, “My freedom?”

“You said I could do whatever I wanted to you,” You remind him. 

“And I fucking meant it.”

“It doesn’t sound very…freeing. Very Nathan,” You muse softly. 

Nathan’s quiet for a long time— so long that you grow nervous, afraid that you’ve said the wrong thing. Just as you’re about to sit up to apologize, he wraps his arms around you, dropping a kiss on your forehead, “This, sweetheart, is the freest I’ve ever been in my life.” 

Fin

nathan taglist: @missdictatorme, @hon3yboy, @runa-falls, @campingwiththecharmings, @toracainz, @steven-grants-world, @clemdango04, @jdbxws, @crispysublimecupcake, @sub-aro, @faretheeoscar, @cupidysm, @whentheskyispinkandabitblue, @nova-ivy541, @sparkypantelones, @veritable-trash, @mangoslushcrush, @thhriller @tenderhornynihilist, @queerponcho

[justmeinadaze]

Smutty request here....massage therapist(s) Eddie and/or Steve 🥴

Got me feeling all the things

Happy Ending (Steddie X You)

A/N: So this intimidated me a bit because I don't a whole lot about massages and that field. But I ran with what I know and put a spin on it. I hope you enjoy it!

Warnings: Masseuses Steddie and you and all that implies (I regret nothing), mentions of stress from the read and a broken heart, she is aware that they provide more than just massages, DP (I said what I said), they are gentle with her for the most part but their is slight allusions to Dom/Sub dynamics (spanking, some bratty behavior, and stern tones), I think that's it.

Word Count: 6244

“Trust me, Y/N, these two will change your life.”

“They’re masseuses. It’s a massage, Deb.”

“Yes and no.” You stare at your friend as you sarcastically blink in her direction making her laugh so hard she almost spits out her drink. “Yes, they massage your body but they also do…other things…to help you relax.”

“Nope. No thank you. I’m good.”

“Y/N! Wait, come on.” She reaches for you hand as you start to get up from the lunch table you two were eating at. “Listen… you remember how hard things were for me a few months ago? I was working 80-hour weeks trying to get that promotion, my mom was scolding me because I’m still not married, and then add in being broke as hell.” Your friend sighed as you placed your palm over her hand.  

“Someone suggested them and I thought ‘Hey, what do I have to lose?’ When I met them, they were so kind and gentle. I swear for a second, I forgot I was even worried about anything. And that was before the…ahem…happy ending.” You blush as you both giggle. Debbie suddenly leans in closer to you, lowering her voice. 

“They both do the massaging part but you can decide who makes your ending a happy one. Personally, I chose the tall, pretty one. Not that the other one wasn’t cute…he’s just not my type, you know?”

“You can only have one?”

Your friend gasps as she playfully hits your arm. “You whore!”

“What?! I’m just asking! More so out of curiosity.”, you shrug. “I guess not everyone is into that kind of…kink but…I mean if you’re hiring them knowing what they do…wouldn’t you want to take the opportunity?”

“Goddamn, I will never understand why Tony cheated on you.” Your eyes meet hers as she softly smiles. “You’re sweet, funny, fucking gorgeous, and apparently really open minded when it comes to ménage à trois.”

You return her smile with one of your own as you lean back in your chair. “Yeah, well, if you ever find that out will you let me know?”

****

You sigh as you enter your big, empty apartment. Tony, your ex-fiancé, was supposed to come by while you were out today with your friend to get the last of his things. Now half of your home was quite literally gone. 

As you hugged your arms around yourself you noticed a note on the kitchen counter. 

“Y/N,

I think I got everything but if I forgot something can you save it and let me know? 

This was incredibly hard for me. I love you so much, baby. Can’t we just—”

You crumple the letter without bothering to read the rest. Honestly, it doesn’t matter. You heard it all before you caught him with her that night and after you threw him out.

After grabbing a beer from the fridge, you held the card Debbie gave you for the masseuses, tracing your fingers over the number.

“Ugh! Fuck it.”, you exhale as you reach for the phone.

It rings a few times but right as you begin to rethink what you’re doing; music suddenly blares through the line. 

“Yeah! Hello?”

“Um, hi. I’m looking for the Munson-Harrington massage people…thing.”

The man on the other end chuckles as he lowers the heavy metal in the background. 

“I don’t think I’ve heard us called that before. Massage people thing… Yeah, you got one of them here. How can I help you, sweetheart?”

“I, um, my friend recommended I utilize your services.”

“Do you always talk this dirty or are we special?”

“I don’t know. Are you always this much of asshole or am I just that special.”, you growl.

The music on the other end abruptly stops and you hear movement on the other end. 

“You sound like your absolutely special. Are you a little nervous?”

You sigh as you lean against the kitchen the wall. “Yeah. I’ve never done anything like this before. Not even regular…massages. Deb, my friend, said you guys changed her life. My life kind of sucks right now.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to and you definitely don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. My friend and I just want to help you relax. Pretty sounding girl like you deserves a clear head.”

“Hm. I bet you say that to everyone who calls.”

“You’re right. I did tell the telemarketer before you that he sounded gorgeous.”

That made you genuinely laugh. “What’s your name?”

“Eddie. I’m the Munson in the name. What’s yours?”

“Y/N.” You slide down to the floor as you take another swig of the drink in your hand. “Is the Harrington part of your company there?”

“Yes ma’am, he is. Would you like to say hello?”

“If that’s ok. I don’t want to impose or anything.”

“HARRINGTON! There’s a pretty girl on the phone who would like to speak with you.”

You listen to Eddie pass the phone as he tells the other boy your name. 

“Y/N? Hey, I’m Steve. I heard you wanted to talk to me.”

“Are you an asshole like your friend?”

“I can be when I need to. Eddie! What did you do to this girl?”

“Nothing! She started it by calling and being adorable.”

“Oh my god.”, you giggle. “You guys are good.”

“And we haven’t even touched you yet.” Your breathing stuttered at his comment. He said it with so much confidence as if he already knew his hands (and services) would blow you away. “Are you still with me, honey?”

“Yeah, um, Eddie said that…we could go slow and if I didn’t want…the…”

“He’s right. We want you to be comfortable. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, Y/N. If you just want a massage that’s fine. If you just want to talk that’s fine to.”

You exhale heavily into the phone before finally making up your mind. 

“Okay. I’m free on Friday.”

############

“Shit, shit, shit!” You continue to curse as you run down your apartment building hallway. “I am so sorry I’m late! Work kept me late and—”

You froze you saw them sitting outside your door, quickly rising when your eyes meet theirs. 

“Hey, no problem.” One of the boy’s grins as he extends his hand for you to shake. “I’m Steve. This is Eddie.”

“The asshole.”, he teases as his gigantic palm encapsulates your own. 

You couldn’t take your eyes off them; they weren’t what you were expecting at all. You assumed Steve was the “tall, pretty one” your friend had mentioned but to you they were both handsome. Eddie had that kind of metalhead look you’d seen walking the streets of your town with his leather jacket and long hair. His Metallica shirt rested perfectly above his belt that was holding up his blue jeans. 

Steve looked like the everyday 80’s guy you saw in most romance movies at the theater but his smile radiated a confidence that made you feel safe. His muscle-bound arms in his polo caused a little sigh to escape your lips as your eyes traced the rest of his figure. 

“Do we…have to do a chant or something?”

You glanced at Eddie completely confused until he gestured towards the front door. 

“Oh, fuck, right. I’m sorry. My head is just…” You clumsily turn your key in the lock and allow them entry into your home. 

“Wow. This place is really nice.”

“Uh, thank you. My fiancé, well ex-fiancé, and I wanted a bigger place closer to the city since we both worked over here. Do you…would you guys like something to drink?”

“No, thank you. We appreciate the offer.” Steve smiles in your direction making your knees a bit weak. “You can have something though if you want.”

“Thanks? I mean with it being my apartment and all.”

“Ah, there’s that sass I was waiting for.” Eddie flashes you a tooth filled grin.

After pouring yourself the strongest drink you could find, you watched them set up near your living room. Your eyes continued to rake over them as they exchanged small talk with each other, allowing you some space to get more comfortable with their presence.

The phone ringing startled you as you turned to give it your attention. Before you could pick it up it routed to the voicemail and Tony’s voice flowed through. 

“Y/N? Babe, are you there? Please, I just want to talk.” Your eyes fluttered shut as you listened to his excuses. You hated being alone and this gigantic apartment was just another reminder that he wasn’t by your side anymore. You missed Tony terribly but no one in the world had ever hurt you as badly as he had. “…I swear to God, she meant nothing to me. I’m just a fucking idiot.”

Feeling a sudden warmth, you opened your eyes to meet Eddie’s as he towered over you. You glanced at Steve whose own face reflected the same sympathy as his friend. 

“…I felt so fucking lonely, Y/N. You were always at work and I felt like you never had time for me. Baby, I know what it’s like to sit in that apartment all by yourself, hurting. Please just talk to me—”

“Hey. Just so you’re aware you are a fucking idiot. She’s not sitting here alone crying her eyes out over some asshole who broke her heart. Y/N has moved on and you should to. Stop calling.”

After hanging up the phone, the metalhead turned to face you again. “I hope that was ok.”

Before you could stop yourself, you wrapped your arms around his waist, clinging to him as you sighed into his chest. His arms gradually came down to hold you to him as his cheek rested on your head. 

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure. I’m not going to lie, Stevie, we may want to reconsider taking a payment in a hug because this is quite comfortable.”

They both laugh as you pull away and smile at them. 

“We’re ready whenever you are, honey.”, Steve grins as he points towards their makeshift table.

#########

Your eyes remain glued in front of you as you listen to Eddie move about the apartment. 

“Y/N.”, Steve whispers from behind you as his breath warms your ear. “Remember, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. We can just talk if you want or we can even leave. No hard feelings. We understand how uncomfortable this situation can be especially since you don’t know us but that makes it a little bit freeing to.”

“Can, um, can I ask you for a favor?” You softly smile when you turn to look at him and he nods. “Can you…take off my clothes? I-I-I don’t think I…”, you ask, stuttering through your nerves. 

“Yeah. Yeah, of course I can. Did you want to keep anything on?”

“Is that an option?”, you giggle. 

“Sweetheart, you hold all the power here.” Eddie slides up beside his friend, now jacketless with no shoes. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been with anyone let alone naked in front of someone. Tony wasn’t lying about that. I’ve always been busy with work and—”

Steve gently places his index finger over your lips. “Nothing that asshole says matters. I don’t care if you were on the moon, he had no right to cheat on you.” His finger glides down from your mouth to your blouse as he begins undoing the buttons while the other man shifts behind you and unclips your skirt. 

Both garments fall effortlessly to the floor as Steve continues watching your face for any signs of hesitation or discomfort. 

“We’re going to do this one at a time, ok? I’m going to take off your bra and then Eddie’s going to remove your panties.”

Once he gets your approval, he leans over your shoulder and begins unhooking your bra from your body. You don’t know if it’s because he’s being so sweet or if it’s because his strong cologne wafts into your nostrils but something inside of you causes you to turn and softly kiss his cheek. 

Steve pulls back slightly, looking through your eyes till a small smile flickers across his lips. He and his friend had been doing this for a while but not one of them had been as tender at you had just been. He knew there was something different about you when he spoke to you on the phone and he knew Eddie felt it to when the metalhead completely turned off his music to talk to you. 

He hoped he wasn’t misreading things and took a leap of faith as he leaned forward to kiss your forehead before tossing your bra near the rest of your clothes.

Strong hands on your waist turned you so you were now facing Eddie as he sunk down on his heels, dipping his fingers under the waistband of your underwear, and delicately tugged them down your legs. The pads of his digits traced along your skin causing a little shiver to run up your spine. 

“You’re so gorgeous, Y/N.”

“I’m sure you say that to everyone.”

His grin grows as he stands up and looks down at you. “I did have a date with that telemarketer I told you about. Turns out he WAS really good looking.”

Steve smiled behind you when you laughed, gently guiding you towards their table, and helping you up as you lay on your stomach. Folding your arms above you, you rest your head on them like a pillow. The metalhead digs in a bag before kneeling in front of you again till his face was level with your own. 

“Which do you like better?” He holds up bottles to your nose and you point to one that smells like vanilla. 

“What are those?”

“Oil. Steve’s the smell guy and knows how to utilize them better than I do.” He stands up and passes the bottle you chose to his friend. 

“Honey, we’re going to touch you now, alright? It might feel a little weird at first because of the oil but if at any point you get uncomfortable and want to stop or take a break just let us know.”

“Okay.” You close your eyes, unsure of what to prepare for but when a set of hands begins rubbing into you back, you can’t help but let out a soft, low moan. “Shit. I’m—”

“Princess, this is your house. Make all the noise you want to and please don’t be embarrassed.”

“You can also talk to us if you want to. Maybe about things you’re stressed about.”

A second set of hands find your calves and a strong exhale leave your lips. “Honestly, you heard my main bit of stress.”

“Fucker Magee?”, Eddie asks. 

“Yeah.”, you giggle. “Everyone in my life thinks I’m overreacting and I should forgive him.”

“Um, we may not know the whole story but the man you were going to marry cheated on you. I think you’re reacting properly.” Steve’s hands trailed along your spine and back down to your hips. 

“I went to visit him at work and they were fucking in his office. Some pretty, young, big breasted coworker.” 

“What a bitch.” You smiled as Eddie laughed at his own comment, his palms massaging along your thighs and back down to your feet. “For how long?”

“A few months. We…we were supposed to get married next month.”

Fingers came up to firmly knead into your shoulders. “I’m sorry, Y/N.” Steve watched your lips form into a thin line before you pressed your face into your arms. As soon as you felt your emotions were in check, you turned your head back to the side. 

“That feels good actually.”

“Did you think the massage business part was just for show?”, Steve laughed.

“I mean… I don’t know. I don’t want to be rude.”

“Said the girl who called me an asshole.”

“To be fair, you were being one.” It feels almost on purpose when Eddie’s fingers slide up between your thighs just barely near your core before sliding back down your legs.

“You’re not wrong, sweetheart.”

Steve’s own hands glide up your sides, grazing the sides of your breasts before looping back around to your shoulder blades.  

“I hope I’m not being too forward but you have a beautiful body.”

“No, you’re not being too…thank you. Um, you-you can go a little higher if you want.”

“Who are you talking to, honey? Me or Ed?”

“Eddie… You can go higher to. If you want to…”

The hands on your back lifted off you as Steve came around to kneel in front of you on his heels. “How about we take it slow, huh? One thing at a time.” His palm petted your head as he moved the hair back from your face. You let out a little gasp when you felt the metalhead’s fingers slide between your folds. “Are you okay?”

You nodded as you bit your bottom lip, lifting one of your legs up the table to allow him more accesses. This man felt like a master with his fingers as he rubbed circles slowly into your clit.

“Pl-please.”, you whine. 

“Please what, Y/N? What do you need?

“Can…can I turn around? On my back.”

“Of course, pretty girl. Whatever you want.”

They patient waited for you to roll over before Eddie placed his thumb back on your nub. You watched with heavy, lust driven eyes as he stuck two of his fingers into his mouth, coating them with his saliva, and sliding them into your sex. 

“Oh wow, princess. You’re tight.” He exhaled, trying to hide the little moan that wanted to be heard. 

Steve stood back up to his full height, coming around to stand behind your head as he reached down and ran his hands over your tits, massaging them gently but firmly. 

“F-fuck.”, you whimpered. As your back arched, you could help but notice the bulge in his pants. When you tried to touch it with your palm, he jumped back like you startled him. 

“Hey. Um, you…you don’t have to do that, honey. We’re here for you.”

“You don’t want me to feel you?”

Your voice sounded so small; Steve felt his cock twitch. “I…I do…I just…you don’t have to.”

Grabbing his shirt, you yanked his lips to yours. The combination of man and mint on his tongue had you clenching tighter around the other boy’s fingers making him groan, this time much louder than before. 

“I want to.” You slid further up the table, allowing your head to hang a bit over the edge, licking your lips as the man pulls down his shorts just enough for his dick to spring free. “Jesus. I’ve never had anyone as big as you are before.”

He smirks as he subtly chuckles. “You can’t say things like that or else I’m going to cum before you even touch me.”

Your tiny hand reaches for him as he steps closer, mewling when your tongue runs along his tip. You don’t see it but the men give each other a cursory glance. This is a little out of bounds for them in the sense of they rarely ever have the women they massage service them in this way and on the off chance a client does it’s usually during the second part when they are alone with one of them in the bedroom. 

Steve continues to be gentle with you as he runs his fingers through your hair when you wrap your lips around his hard, now throbbing length. Eddie thrusts his fingers into you at a faster pace and your moans vibrate through to the boy in your mouth. 

“Goddamn, Y/N. Your mouth feels so good. Your ex is a fucking idiot.”

They both take note of your reaction, your head bobbing faster as your pussy clenches again. 

“He really is, sweetheart. Makes me want to call him back and curse that fucker out.”

Tugging your head back, you continue to pump him with your fist as your hips began to grind up into the metalhead’s hand.

“Fuck, I’m…”

“That’s it, beautiful girl. Just let go. It’s okay.” Eddie pressed the heel of his palm against your clit as he moves his fingers move at a quicker pace. The sound of your slick fills the room and after a few moments your body trembles as you cum. “Good girl. Coming like that. Geez, I’m so fucking hard right now.”

Abruptly, you sit up and grab the back of the man’s neck as you bring his lips to yours. After your release, your kisses were much hungrier and you reveled in the taste him as your hands shot down to fumble with his jeans. 

“Wait…are you sure…you don’t want Steve.”, he asks between kisses. “You’ve kinda…got him…all riled up.”

“Want both.”

Eddie froze as he pulled his head back. When you tried to chase his lips, his palms gripped either side of your face forcing you to focus. 

“Hey, you don’t have to do that.”

“Want to.” You tried to lurch forward again but he was much stronger than you, holding you in place. 

“Y/N, princess, come down from cloud 9 and really think about what you’re asking for.”

You couldn’t control the annoyed exhale or tone as your eyes met his. “Am I not allowed? I can pay you more.”

“It’s not about the money. We—”, Steve began before you cut him off.

“Want me to be comfortable. I know! I know what I’m asking for. Now, do you want to fuck me or not!?”

Ringed fingers snaked into your hair and firmly pulled it back. Something changed in Eddie’s eyes; a look he saved for partners he had in his own bedroom. 

“Control the attitude, Y/N.”, he growled. “Listen to what he’s saying. It’s not about the money and it’s not about getting off. It’s not fun for anyone here if you wake up in the morning with regret. And while this little session here IS all about you, don’t forget we’re people to. We’ve been doing this for years and no one has ever asked to take us both one right after the other.”

“I’m not asking for that either. I want you both…at the same time.” They look at each other again, unsure of what to do or say. Your hand reaches out to turn his attention back to you as you lean your forehead on his. “Please, Eddie. I know what I’m asking for. I need it. I need you both. Please, please, please.” As you keep repeating your last word, you manage to fully unbutton his jeans, glide your hand through the waistband of his boxers, and rub your palm against his cock.

His jaw falls open as your lips trail down his neck.

“I mean…if she thinks she can handle it.” 

Eddie growled again with more vigor as he lifted you into his arms and carried you to your bedroom with Steve in tow. After tossing you onto the bed, he tore off his shirt, and you marveled at his tattoos, crawling on your knees till you were in front of him again. His hands laced in your hair as your tongue descended down his chest, stopping just above his waistline to allow him to shuffle out of his pants. 

The bed dipped behind you, suddenly feeling strong palms grip your hips and lift them a bit higher into the air. Steve’s own tongue licked a long stripe through your folds causing your body to shudder pleasantly at the feeling. Eddie held the base of his cock, allowing the tip to brush against your lips. 

You opened your mouth for him and he wasted no time pushing through, groaning when your warm saliva began coating him. The metalhead was much thicker than his friend and at times you struggled to take him, gagging around his dick as he occasionally hit the back of your throat. 

The strong vibrations of your moans as Steve latched his mouth to your clit had Eddie’s own eyes rolling back as he held on to your hair tighter trying to control himself from just face fucking you till he came.

You weren’t sure if it was on purpose or not but both men were still massaging you with their palms, Steve especially. His hands rubbed and caressed firmly up your lower back, around to your stomach, and down to your thighs as his tongue flicked against your bundle of nerves. While one of Eddie’s hands remained in your hair, the other ran between your shoulder blades and around to your front to knead your breasts adding to your high. 

Your mouth came off the boy in front of you with a pop as drool dangled from your lips. 

“Yes, Steve. Please, you’re going to make me cum.”

You practically screamed as he pressed his mouth further into your core, sucking and licking until you felt the coil snap as you came. Your upper half fell flat against the mattress as you panted, smiling softly as your body continued to twitch. 

Eddie’s fingers left your hair and moved to your shoulders as he lifted you back up to your knees so he could see your face. 

“This is the last time I’m going to ask, sweetheart. Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Yes, Eddie, I’m sure I want you both inside of me.”

His head tilts to the side at your answer, mostly because it was said correctly, or at least how he liked his questions answered. He wondered if there was a submissive side of you that enjoyed it a bit rougher like they did. Both men NEVER brought that into the bedroom with a client and most of the time none of the women they were with never asked. 

You weren’t asking either but he imagined, like they did, that was something personal for you so you saved it for the man you were dating or intimate with. 

Eddie shook the thoughts from his head as his hand laced around your neck and brought your lips to his again. 

“Seriously, your fiancé is so fucking stupid to let you go.”

You smiled up at him and wrapped your arms around his waist as you yanked him closer to you for a hug. He could get used to this. 

“Have you ever done this before?”, Steve asked.

“This exactly, no. Have I ever done anal before? A couple of times. You may need to go a bit slow at first especially since…um…I’ve never had a man, men, as big or thick like you guys.”

You giggle when the boy exhaled again, grabbing your waist, and falling on to the bed with you on top of him. “You have to stop saying things like that. You’re going to kill me!”  

“What, do you want me to lie? ‘Oh Daddy. Your cock is average size and will definitely not split me in half.’” Your giggle turned into a full-blown laugh until you notice he had a funny little look on his face. “I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong? I was just—”

Steve leans up, cutting you off with a passionate kiss. “You’re an interesting woman. Eddie’s right. I seriously don’t understand why anyone would cheat on you. If you were mine, I don’t think I’d ever leave your side.”

“Aw…that’s creepy.”, you playfully smiled.

On impulse, he smacked your ass. They never did that first. Sometime a client would ask for a light spank but he just delivered you one he’s only given to bratty girls in his bedroom. He didn’t mean to but something about you made him comfortable.

“Shit. I…I’m sorry.” 

You shook your head, dismissing his apology as you kissed him again. Eddie reached over your shoulder to hand his friend a condom and they both hastily tore into the wrapper before sliding it on. His eyes met yours as he leaned back against your mattress and his hands gripped your waist.

“Whenever you’re ready, honey.”

Nodding, you exhaled the nerves as you tipped forward, and slowly lowered your body to his. You both moaned when his tip breached your entrance and Steve craned his neck to watch himself disappear inside of you inch by inch. 

“Fuck, baby. That’s it. Take your time.”

You heard the metalhead’s heavy breathing behind you as he stroked his cock at the site before him. The sound caused you to clench and a broken mewl left you as you pushed yourself further onto him. 

“Oh my god. You’re so…I can’t…”

His palm glided up your sides to caress your cheek. “Yes, you can, Y/N. You’re doing so good taking me already. Do you want some help?”

When you nodded, he firmly took hold of the back your neck and lowered you till your face was hovering over his. His hips thrust up to meet yours and your mouth fell open. 

“That’s it, baby. Good girl. I’m going to do it again, ok?” When you nod again, he pumped into you a couple more times till you felt him bottom out. “Good girl. Such a good girl. Jesus, so fucking tight. You feel so good, pretty girl. It’s Eddie’s turn. Let him know when you’re ready.”

After a few moments and subtly thrusts from Steve, you turned towards his friend and gave him the okay.

Hands spread open your ass and you tightened around the other man again when you felt spit hit your asshole and Eddie’s fingers massaging it in. Your body tensed slightly when the tip of his cock rubbed between your cheeks.

“Sweetheart, if at any point you want to stop, I want you to say ‘Red’ for me, alright? Can you tell me what I just said?”

“If…if—fuck—if I want to stop…say ‘red’.”

“Atta girl.”, he praised as he quickly leaned forward to kiss your temple. 

Prepared, Steve’s palms held on to your face as Eddie began to push into your body. Your head started to droop but his grip was stronger than yours. “Y/N, look at me, honey.” When you did what he asked, his thumb extended out to run along your bottom lip. “You’re doing amazing. How do you feel?”

“F-full.” The metalhead licked the pads of his fingers, looping his arm under your body to slowly and softly massage circles into your clit. “Oh my god!”

You tried to collapse against Steve’s chest but he still wouldn’t allow it. 

“Holy shit. Y/N, stop moving.”, he scolded in a firm tone before he realized what headspace he was slipping into and reeling himself back into the present. “Baby, not yet. You…you say you’ve never had anyone as big as us. I-I don’t know about, Ed but I’VE never…had a woman as tight as you.” He flashed you a small smile. “I’m trying so fucking hard not to cum right now.”

Eddie’s hair bobbed behind you and the man knew he was nodding in agreement. 

“You can—mmm—you can talk to me…like you did. I-I-I don’t mind.”

His eyes scanned over your face as your eyes closed. “Hey, I said keep your eyes open, sweet girl.” You purposely ignored him, grinding your hips forward slightly for good defiant measure. Both men grunted at the action but it was Steve who held your face tighter. 

“Look at me, now.” This time you listened. “What did I say, Y/N? Don’t fucking move. You need to be patient, little girl. Do you understand me?”

“Y-yes, I understand.” At that moment, the metalhead’s hips finally connected against yours. “You…you both can…move. Please, I need you to move.”

The man underneath you released your face and circled his arms around you as he pressed you to his chest. When they both thrusted into you at the same time, the euphoria you felt was indescribable. It was like they knew exactly what you needed and where they needed to be. Each stroke was strong and precise, hitting every nerve inside of you, and setting your body ablaze. 

“Go-go ahead, princess. You wanted—goddamn—you wanted to move so bad. Take over.” Eddie’s hand came down hard on your behind and you hurriedly (and willingly) did as he commanded. Their grunts and groans drove you crazy, egging you on as you bounced and rolled your hips as fast as you could. The obscene sound of skin hitting skin echoed in your room mixed with your whimpers of pleasure. 

It was almost too overwhelming as the ball in your belly began to wind faster and faster. Steve’s grip moved to your hips as Eddie held on to your shoulders.

“Cum, baby. Let go and cum as hard as you fucking can.”, the man under you whispered into your ear. Your forehead fell into the mattress beside his head as they both pounded into you. Their rhythm changed as they slowed, punching the air from your lungs as white blurs your vision. You scream into the bed below you as they fuck you through it, Steve lifting his hand to run his fingers through your hair.

“That’s it. Good-good fucking girl. Taking us both so well.” Eddie tilted forward, placing sloppy, wet kisses against your back as he rolled his hips. He soon followed after you, grunting loudly as he spilled into the condom. Steve, unable to hold back any longer, came as well, smacking his hips against yours and using you to milk himself dry.

#########

Eddie’s eyes blink open as his watch beeps signaling midnight. His eyes take a quick scan of the area, realizing they were still in your apartment. He and Steve were tucked under your sheets but you weren’t between them. 

“Steven.” The metalhead reached over to shake his friend’s shoulder. “Steve, wake up.”

“Huh? Wha?”

“Oh my god, you idiot. Steve. WAKE. UP.” Between each word, he firmly punched his arm causing the other man to grumble in anger.

“What?! Why are you in my room?”

“Oh, you know. I thought I could just use a nice Harrington cuddle. WE AREN’T AT HOME!”, he hisses. 

Steve rubs his eyes before Eddie’s words sink in and he bolts up right. “Shit. We fell asleep.”

“You don’t say.”

“Shut the fuck up, Munson. Where is she?”

As he shrugs, they both jump out of bed. Steve finds his clothes on the floor but the other boy struggles to find his. 

“I know I took them off here.”

“You did.” They both jump at the sound of your voice. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I woke up before you and noticed your clothes had oil on them from when you picked me up so I washed them for you.”, you softly smiled as you handed Eddie his jeans and shirt.

“Um, thank you. You…you didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s no problem. I was hungry to I heated up some left-over pizza if you want some.”

Their eyes scanned over you as you leaned in the doorframe with a mug in your hand. You had changed into an oversized shirt with a metal band that Eddie definitely knew and some sleep shorts. Your hair was a little frayed but to both of them you looked like an angel. 

“I mean, you don’t have to. I don’t really know what the protocol is or how this works.”

“Well, to be fair, I’m not sure if you noticed but this whole thing was a bit off script for what we normally do.”, Steve grins as he nervously chuckles. He has no idea what they are supposed to do either.

You silently nodded before turning and heading back out to the kitchen as they follow behind. 

“How, uh, how are you feeling?”, Eddie asks. 

“Calm. Oddly relaxed. Honestly, I don’t think I’ve felt like this since before I got in engaged.” You hop up onto the counter before meeting their gaze. “Thank you.”

They smile as Steve heads for where their things were as Eddie grabs a slice of pizza. “I made some coffee to if you want some.”

“Did you put our table and all that way?”

“Oh, yeah. I cleaned it to. I’m not sure if you’re supposed to use a certain type of cleaner but I just used my 409. I folded it and placed it by the door with your bags. I, um, I wasn’t sure if when you woke up you’d…want to make a quick getaway.”

They exchanged a look as your head hung. 

“Why do you think we would want to do that?” When you shrug at Eddie’s question, he saunters casually over to you and lifts your chin with his fingers. “Let me rephrase. Is that what you want us to do?”

“Do you want us to leave?”, Steve reiterated. 

“Like I said, I don’t know…how this works…”

“That’s not what I asked, Y/N.”

“No…I don’t want you to leave.”

They both grin at your answer. “We don’t want to leave either.”

Eddie starts to giggle through his teeth as he jumps on the counter beside you. 

“What’s so funny, Munson?”, Steve asks as he comes to lean on the counter across from you both. 

The metalhead intertwines his fingers with yours and you lean your head on his shoulder. 

“Nothing. Just…this gives a whole new meaning to the term ‘happy ending’.”

[a-simple-gaywitch]

Amidst the Chaos

Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary:  Spencer and (Y/N) didn't get along, and it annoyed the whole BAU. But when a traumatized (Y/N) shows up at Spencer's apartment late one night, their whole relationship shifts

Warnings: PTSD, trauma, references to torture, other canon-typical topics

Word Count:  3827

Author’s Note: not necessarily my best fic, but i’ve been working on it for over a year so... here it is

Orpheus - Sara Bareilles

AO3 Link

“Don't stop trying to find me here amidst the chaos. Though I know it's blinding, there's a way out.” ~ Sara Bareilles, Orpheus

~

“Guys, I want you to meet our newest team member,” Hotch said to the BAU as they settled around the table. “This is Agent (Y/N) (L/N).”

You gave a shy wave to the group in front of you, but your smile was bright enough to light up the entire room. “Hi.”

“She’s coming to us from Organized Crime. I trust that you’ll all welcome her to the team.”

“Honestly, I’m just happy to be given a chance to work with all of you. It’s been my dream to work at the BAU for years.”

“We’ll have time to get to know Agent (L/N) better on the plane. But for now, we have a case,” Hotch said. “JJ?”

~

“So,” Derek said, taking a seat next to you on the jet. “What was Organized Crime like?”

“Honestly? Boring as all hell. It was mostly stopping money laundering and drug cartels,” you said. “Not as glamorous as Goodfellas makes it seem. Besides, the BAU was always my end goal anyway.”

He chuckled a bit. “Yeah, I get that. We’re glad to have you on our team. ” The conversation between you and Morgan flowed easily and before you knew it, you had become like brother and sister. The rest of the team grew to love you too. Well, most of the team. 

Spencer seemed icy and cold toward you, and no one could offer a valid explanation. By all accounts, you should have gotten along. You loved Halloween just as much as Spencer did and you always had at least 3 books on your person at a time. You had a borderline unhealthy addiction to caffeine and sugar and spent more time in the office than your apartment. But for some reason, you and Spencer just seemed to constantly be at each other’s throats. 

In your defense, Reid had started it. 

For whatever reason, Reid disliked you right out the gate. He tried to be civil toward you, but something about you just bothered him. 

He originally just tried to avoid you when he could, but with the nature of the team’s dynamic, that didn’t work out well. 

Spencer found himself doing small, petty things to annoy you, like putting your favorite mug on the top shelf where you couldn’t reach it or borrowing your pens and “forgetting” to return them. Something about seeing you mildly inconvenienced and annoyed as opposed to your normally happy and bubbly self made him feel better. He knew it was fucked up of him. 

Eventually, the animosity became mutual. You and Spencer were rarely paired together on cases because Hotch couldn’t stand the constant arguing between the two of you. Mostly, Hotch tended to pair you with Derek who you began to see as a brother. 

Spencer would never admit it, but seeing you and Derek be as close as you were stirred some kind of jealousy in him. He figured it was just because he had been friends with Morgan first, that was all. 

~

Local cases were always extra stressful on the team. Something about unsubs being so close to home made the cases more personal. As such, tensions were running high and no one had slept in over 24 hours as the team worked to nail down a profile. 

“This doesn’t make sense,” you muttered as you looked over the crime scene photos. “The crime profiles as disorganized but the victimology and timeline profile him as organized.” 

“How you doing there, Pretty Girl?” Morgan asked, setting down a carrier of coffee cups. 

You sighed and picked up the cup with your name scrawled on it. “There’s discrepancies in our preliminary profile and I can’t…”

“Did you try comparing notes with Reid?”

“Derek, I love you, but are you insane?”

“I’m serious, (Y/N).”

“So am I. Any time I try to have any kind of civilized conversation with that man he turns it into an argument.”

Thankfully, Hotch came into the room at that point, stopping the conversation. “We have two potential leads. Morgan, you’re going with Blake to the first address. (L/N), you and Reid are going to the second.” Hotch tossed you both keys for SUVs. “Reid and Blake have the files. They’ll fill you in on the drive.”

“Yes, sir.” You grabbed your coffee from the table, along with Reid’s, and headed out to the car. When you got to the parking lot, Reid was already leaning against the car, flipping through a file folder. “Reid. Here.”

As you handed him the coffee, he said, “What, was everyone else busy?”

You rolled your eyes. “I don’t know. I’m just following Hotch’s orders.” You unlocked the car and climbed in. “Where are we going?”

“21 Rock Creek Road, Somerset. We’re interviewing Linda Walsh, the neighbor of our first victim, Savanna Curtis.”

“Great. Can you type it into the GPS?”

“Why? I can just give you the directions.”

“Because the GPS is more accurate.”

“(L/N), I have an eidetic memor-”

“Eidetic memory, I know. But you’re telling me your memory can predict traffic patterns? I don’t think so. Just use the damn GPS.”

“Fine.” Spencer typed the address in, muttering under his breath.

“Thank you. What information do we have on Walsh?”

“72 years old, she was reportedly in the house when Curtis was attacked and taken to the secondary location. Hotch wants us to interview her and see if she noticed anything that might help us with the profile.”

Soon enough, the two of you pulled up to the witness’s house. Before even getting out of the car, you felt like something was wrong. 

”Wait, Reid.” You grabbed his arm as he reached for the door handle. “Something about this doesn’t feel right.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look at the windows. All of them are dark. Not even a television glow. Something’s off.”

“I hate to say it, but you’re right.” 

You hopped out of the car and pulled your gun from your side, following Reid up the path to the house. He knocked on the front door. 

“I don’t hear anything from inside.” He knocked again. “Go around the back, see if you can get in that way.”

You nodded and walked around the house. You could hear Reid continuing to knock as you went around. As you rounded the corner, a sharp pain entered your shoulder. You yelled and turned around, but not before a blunt object hit you in the temple and your vision faded.

~

Spencer was panicking. You were missing, and it was his fault. He was pacing in the front yard of Walsh’s home while the team and the local authorities worked to catch up. 

“Reid, what happened?” Hotch asked. “We need everything.”

Spencer relayed every detail from the moment the two of you pulled up to the house, still pacing. “I shouldn’t have told her to go off on her own, it’s my fault-”

“Kid, breathe,” Morgan told him. “You didn’t know this would happen. What’s important now is finding her and bringing her home safe.”

The team did a thorough inspection on Mrs. Walsh’s home and learned a good deal. Mrs. Walsh wasn’t home, as was reported. However, her son, Devin, was clearly staying with her. It didn’t take the team long to figure out he was the unsub. 

~

When you awoke, you were in a secondary location. Your head was throbbing behind your eyes and your shoulder was in agony. Your arms were tied behind your back, but that was the only restraint to your mobility. You looked around, trying to figure out where you were. It was a large, open space, you guessed a warehouse, probably abandoned. It was dark, except for the glow of the streetlights outside and an industrial lamp in the center of the room. You didn’t have much time to assess your surroundings, though, because Walsh was waiting for you to wake up.

You knew the facts of the case. You saw the photos. He kept the women for 24 hours, torturing them until their bodies were barely recognizable. Then, he’d kill and dump them.

But you also knew your team. They were relentless. And they would save you.

~

“We’ve seen what he does to his victims. We’re in a race against the clock here,” Morgan argued with Hotch.

“But we still have to keep our heads and follow the law. If we don’t get a warrant, any evidence we do find goes right out the window.”

“Guys, Garcia found something,” JJ said. She put her phone on speaker. “Go ahead, Garcia.”

“So, Walsh’s dear old dad was the owner of a warehouse in the 80s. The warehouse is still in his name but has since been abandoned. And before you even ask, yes, I sent you the address.”

~

The SUVs pulled up to the warehouse and the team jumped out. The plan was to enter the building slow and quiet, but that changed when they heard you scream, followed by a gunshot. Then, everything went silent. Completely silent.

Everyone rushed into the building. The team was terrified of what they were about to find. What they saw, no one could have expected. 

You were lying unconscious on the floor, in a pool of blood. Also on the floor, with a bullet hole through his forehead, was Devin Walsh. Standing with a gun in her hands was 72 year old Linda Walsh, tears running down her face. 

“I had to,” she said, looking at Hotch. “He was gonna kill her.”

“We need a medic!”

~

The team was sitting around your hospital bed. The doctor had said you probably wouldn’t wake up for a while, but they were determined to have someone there with you when you did. 

“We should take shifts,” JJ suggested. “That way there’s always someone here and the rest of us can get some rest, too.”

“That’s a good idea. Dave and I can take the first shift,” Hotch said. “We’ll do four-hour rotations in pairs.”

They talked through who would pair up and take what rotations before Rossi shooed the rest of the team out.

Eventually, Reid and Morgan were on their “shift.” Morgan glanced over at Reid, who was staring at the same page of a book. 

“You ever gonna flip that page?”

“What if she doesn’t wake up?”

“Kid, you heard the doctor. She will.”

“But what if she doesn’t? It would be my fault. I’m the one who made her go off by herself. We were supposed to be a team and I couldn’t see past-” He cut himself off, shaking his head.

“Hey,” Morgan put his hand on Spencer’s shoulder, “it’ll be okay, Reid. I’m gonna go grab a coffee. Want one?”

“Sure.” After Morgan left, Spencer looked at you and sighed. Your body was wrapped in casts and bandages. “Hey, (L/N),” he said, reaching out and resting his hand on top of yours.

~

One thing you didn’t expect about being in a medically induced coma was to still hear everything going on around you. You could hear the doctors and nurses moving about your room. You could hear your teammates. You heard Hotch and Rossi talking about the paperwork they’d have to file on the case because an agent had been seriously injured. You heard the music Penelope insisted on playing, and you heard Spencer. 

“Hey, (L/N),” you heard him say. “I don’t know if you can hear me but,” he took a deep breath, “I’m sorry. Not just for this. I mean, obviously for this. I never should have split us up, I never should have sent you around the back of the house, I never should have-” he stopped himself. You could hear the tightness in his voice. Was he crying? No, Reid wouldn’t be crying over you. Would he? But he continued. “I was awful to you. I mean, I was an asshole,” he said with a dry laugh. “There’s no other word for it. I was an asshole to you and there was no excuse. I’m so sorry, (Y/N). I-”

~

“One cup of sugar with a splash of coffee,” Derek said, coming back into the room. 

“Thanks.” Reid took the cup in both his hands, grateful for a distraction from his guilt. 

“Any change?”

He shook his head. “None.”

Derek sighed. “You know, part of me was really hoping she’d wake up in the five minutes I was gone.” He gripped your hand that wasn’t casted up. “We miss you, Pretty Girl.”

~

Your coma lasted for about 3 weeks. The doctors kept you in the hospital for observation for another full week before finally letting you go home.

During your recovery, your apartment was practically a revolving door. Just about the entire team came by to check on you and keep you company, with the exception of Spencer. You couldn’t say you were too surprised. However, something about it upset you. Hell, even Hotch and Rossi took the time to stop by and check on you. 

Derek and Penelope were probably your most frequent visitors. You were honestly grateful for their visits, and for the help it brought. With your injuries, simple day-to-day tasks were more difficult for you, and Penelope and Derek were more than happy to help you out. Derek took your grocery list and all your other errands while Penelope helped around your apartment. You were even more grateful when they forced you to attend a dinner party at Rossi’s. Penelope was at your apartment, helping you pick out a dress for the event.

“I don’t know, Pen.”

“(Y/N), I’m telling you, purple is your color.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want my dress to match my bruises.”

Penelope just rolled her eyes and tossed the dress on your bed. “Do you really think I’d pick out a dress that didn’t make you look good? Let’s go, you haven’t had a proper shower in a week.”

Penelope helped you get ready for the dinner party before getting ready herself. She helped adjust the strap of your brace when your doorbell buzzed. 

“That’ll be Derek,” you said. Penelope answered the door to Derek standing outside, leaning against your doorframe. 

“Well, look at these pretty ladies. You ready to go?”

“Yeah, I need to get out of this house,” you said. “I haven’t seen anything but these walls in weeks.”

When you pulled into Rossi’s driveway, you were more than excited to see the team. The team, in turn, was excited to see you. You were smiling and laughing, more and more of your normal self. 

When Spencer saw you walk through Rossi’s front door on your crutches, a lump formed in his throat. Ever since seeing you in the hospital, he’d been wracked with guilt. It was the main reason why he hadn’t visited you like everyone else. He tried to avoid you the whole night. Thankfully, you were so happy to be with the others that you didn’t seem to notice. But Blake did. 

“Okay, what’s going on with you?” she asked Spencer, handing him a drink. 

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re avoiding everyone tonight. Why?” When Spencer stayed silent, Blake followed his line of sight. He was watching you talking with JJ. “Ah. Why don’t you go talk to her?”

“I can’t, Alex. Believe me, I’ve tried. For months. Any time I try and have just a normal goddamn conversation with her, what comes out is sarcastic and cruel. I-I don’t know why it happens.” He ran his hands over his face and groaned. 

“You’re in love with her.” Blake wasn’t saying it as a question. Seeing the panic in his eyes, she said, “Don’t worry, it’ll stay with me.”

~

The heavy sheets of rain outside pounded against the apartment windows. It was the kind of cold rain that seeped into your bones, despite a warm home. It was late, but Spencer was still awake, reading. He couldn’t sleep, which wasn’t unusual for him. He heard a knock on his door. Spencer set his book down on his coffee table before walking to his door. He glanced out the peephole and took a step back in shock. Spencer opened the door to see you standing there, soaked and visibly shivering, in only your pajamas. Your eyes were bloodshot and you were sniffling. 

“(L/N)? What are you-”

“I’m sorry. I know you probably don’t want me here and I don’t even know how I ended up here, I just started walking and-”

“Wait, wait, you walked here? In the torrential downpour?” When you nodded, Spencer opened his door wider. “Here, come in. You must be freezing. What happened?”

You stepped through his door and began to ramble, “I don’t know. I woke up from a nightmare and I knew I-I couldn’t stay in my apartment alone so I just started walking and somehow I ended up here and I’m sorry.” Your teeth were chattering as you continued to shiver. 

Spencer grabbed a blanket off the back of his couch and draped it around you. “No, no, it’s, um-” Spencer cleared his throat. “Do you want to talk about it? I’ve found that sometimes just saying it out loud helps.”

Once you nodded, Spencer held his hand out and led you over to his couch. You were silent for a few moments, staring out the window at the rain streaming down. 

“I was back… there,” you said when you finally started talking. “In the dark. I-I couldn’t see anything but I knew he was there. Then I felt his hands on my throat and-” You cut yourself off, shaking your head. Your whole body was shivering, but Spencer didn’t think it was from the cold anymore. 

Spencer moved to put his arm around you but stopped, dropping his arm back to his side. “I know how you feel,” he said. “After Hankle, I couldn’t handle looking at the crime scene photos because I knew what the victims were thinking right… you know… right before.”

“Do they ever stop? The nightmares?”

“I don’t know. Mine haven’t.” When he saw the defeat on your face, he added, “But it does get easier.”

You nodded, still staring out at the pouring rain. You cleared your throat. “Well, uh, I’ll, um, I’ll call a taxi and get out of your hair.”

“You don’t- uh, you can stay, um, if-if you want,” Spencer said. 

“Reid, I don’t want to impose-”

“You wouldn’t be!” Spencer assured you. “I could use the company, actually. I’ve been trying to find someone to watch Stardust with me. Penelope says I need to watch more pop culture and I know you’re a fan of Neil Gaiman.” He gave you a soft smile. “Please, (Y/N), stay. I promise, you’re not imposing.”

When he saw your face crack into a small smile, he felt a swarm of butterflies rise in his stomach. “Okay,” you said. 

About halfway through the movie, Spencer felt you slump against his shoulder. Before he knew it, you were fast asleep. He was frozen there, not wanting to disturb you. He knew how rough the past few months had been, and it was obvious to everyone you weren’t sleeping. Maybe it was the guilt, maybe it was more, but Spencer felt like it was now his responsibility to take care of you, if you would let him.

~

The whole team noticed the shift between you and Reid. Where you would previously stay as far from each other as possible, you were now actively seeking each other out. You chose to sit next to each other in the briefing room and on the jet, something you had never done before. On the trips back from cases, you would rest your head on Reid’s shoulder and sleep while he read a book. But, no one said anything about any of it. No one wanted to burst whatever weird bubble was surrounding the BAU team. 

That was, until Blake, Derek, and JJ spotted you knocking on Spencer’s motel door one night during a case. The two were sitting up in the lounge going over the case files yet again when they spotted you, in your pajamas, sneaking out of your own room. 

After watching you slip into Spencer’s room, JJ said, “You don’t think they’re…”

“Reid and (L/N)? No, there’s no way. They can’t stand each other.”

“Well, they do say there’s a thin line between love and hate,” Alex noted, turning the page in her book. 

“I don’t know about you two, but I need to know what’s going on,” Derek said, getting up from the couch. 

“I’m coming with you!”

“Guys, I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” Alex warned. “Just talk to them about it in the morning.”

“Do you know something, Alex?” JJ asked. 

“Even if I did know something, it wouldn’t be my place to tell you.”

~

The next morning, you felt eyes on you as you drank your coffee. You looked up from the case file to see Derek staring at you. 

“What?”

“Were you going to tell me about you and Reid or…”

“What are you talking about? Me and Reid?”

“(Y/N), come on. You two are practically attached at the hip when just two weeks ago you couldn’t fucking stand each other.”

You shrugged. “We worked out our differences, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Alright, what about you sneaking off to his room last night?”

Your face paled. “It’s not what it looked like.”

“Care to explain then?”

You sighed, looking around to make sure it was just you and Morgan. “You know I haven’t been sleeping since, well, everything.” Derek nodded. “Well, a few nights ago I ended up at Reid’s apartment in a panic. It was pouring out so he let me just stay and I slept better than I had in years. And, you know, he’s not too bad to hang out with either,” your face flushed with your last statement. 

“You’re not too bad to hang out with either.”

You jumped, turning around to see Spencer in the doorway with cups of (good) coffee in his arms.

“Spencer, when did-”

He handed you a frappuccino. “Just now. I take it you weren’t as sneaky as you thought?”

“Shut up,” you whined, nudging him with your arm as you stuck a straw in your drink. Spencer just laughed and took a seat next to you.

“So, you’re just, like, friends now?”

You and Spencer looked at each other, seemingly having a conversation without speaking.

“I mean, I’d say we’re a bit more than just friends,” you admitted, smiling at Spencer. He kissed the top of your head. 

“Damn, I owe JJ 10 bucks,” Derek muttered before saying, “But seriously, I’m happy for you two. It’s about time you realized you were perfect for each other.”

[kkcauseway]

Truths

Joel miller x younger f!reader

Summary I You babysitting Sarah is the norm. When you do so tonight it's so Joel can finally let his hair down and go drinking with Tommy- he's waited eleven months for it after all. You're already expecting a very drunk Joel to return home, and you're exactly right, but what you don't expect is the drunken confession that comes with it... Chapter warnings/content I slight age gap. Drunk Joel Miller, Joel being good at feelings for once because alcohol helps. Drunken confessions of love. Joel complimenting reader. So much flufffffffff gahhh! No outbreak, no use of y/n. A/N I Another of many cute drabbles that my brain decided to conjure up. I really hope you enjoy Joel being a sappy, in touch with his feelings guy when drunk.

Main materlist

You’ve baby sat for Joel since precious Sarah came into this world. As much as you know Joel would love to be a stay-at-home dad he can’t afford to be and so after taking two weeks off he looked for help and there you were. You’ve lived opposite Joel for years, he’s ten years your senior and has always helped your mom with the odd jobs that have needed doing round the house. This is your way to give back. More than happy to help him.

When he asked you last week if you minded watching her so he could have a couple beers with Tommy of course you said yes, who would you be to deny the man of that. You’ve been telling him for months that he deserves a night off. He’s the most selfless person on the planet he deserves to let his hair down and have a few hours off from parenting. His job is demanding and as much as Sarah is the best-behaved baby she’s still hard work.

He's waited a whole eleven months to go out, finally feeling ready enough to leave her on an evening and go let himself get jolly with his brother. You told him to get as drunk as he wanted, that you’d stay in the spare room, so Sarah had someone close at hand that was able if needed in the night. He was so appreciative of that.

With Joel and Sarah everything is so easy, you love helping out, getting to watch Sarah grow into the little girl she is becoming. Watching Joel be the best dad to her.

It’s around twelve that Joel makes it back, you had just stared to turn everything off and lock everything ready to go to bed when you hear the taxi outside.

“I’m backkk” he sings as he enters the house dropping his keys when he goes to lock the door from the inside.

You meet him at the door as he struggles to pick them up. “Here I’ll get them, go sit down” you laugh stroking a hand along his arm as he smiles up at you.

“Okay, thanks for always being so wonderful to me n’my f’mly.”

You can’t help but laugh at the way he slurs his words.

With the door locked and porch light now off you walk back to the lounge and find him slumped on the loveseat.

“Good night?” you question to his drunk sleepy frame.

“Such a good night, darlin’ thank you. I honestly can’t thank you enough for allowin’ me t’go. How’s my angel doin’ she get to sleep okay?”

“Out like a light, she had a bath then I read her a book and she’s had some warm milk. She fell asleep on my chest and didn’t even wake when I picked her up to put her to bed. Plus she hasn’t woke up since, I’ve been in to check on her twice she’s absolutely dead to the world, talking in her sleep and all, wonder where she gets that from” you jest.

He rolls his eyes with a scoff “one time, that was one fuckin’ time you heard me say some shit in my sleep when I was nappin’ and I ain’t never lived it down.”

“No, and you won’t ever, I mean your daughter can’t even talk properly yet and she’s fucking trying to string sentences together when she’s fast asleep, I say there’s no hope… she’s gonna be just like her daddy. Just like she is in every other damn way.”

“Well fuckin’ good luck t’her, why would anyone wana take after me.”

��Excuse me Joel Miller but we will have none of this negative talk thank you very much, I happen to think you’re amazing! And I can’t help but admire the way you are with Sarah. Honestly, I hope she does grow up to be just like you that will be so much fun!”

“You’re so beautiful, got such a way with words and know exactly how to make people feel better. You’re one in a million. Me and Sarah are more than just lucky to have you around. Thank you” he then bends to take off his boots.

You feel more than lucky to have them around too. You’re your happiest when you’re in their company. Spending time with them. Going on outings with them. If Tommy and Joel wana take Sarah out somewhere they always ask you to tag along especially now Tommy brings Maria. Maybe people think that Joel and you are in a relationship, that Sarah is yours. She definitely looks like she could be with her blonde hair and blue eyes that match your own. “Well I’m lucky to have you two too.” You reply with a big smile.

He chuckles as he struggles with his laces, and you watch the way his calloused fingers can’t get a grip on the knots, so you move to take them off for him as he looks up at you “you two too, that’s a tongue twister, you two too, you two too”

“You’re so stupid sometimes Joel Miller” you chuckle as you untie the laces.

“M’not” he pouts.

“You are, but I wouldn’t change you” you giggle having now taken off his boots and are moving them to their rightful place.

He laughs again as you make your way back to come and sit next to him. “ahhh, I like you darlin’” he sings letting his head fall back.

“Well I like you too, guess you ain’t too bad are yah” you giggle.

“No I-” he sighs sitting back up to look at you “I mean I really really like you; I want you to be mine.”

Did he really just say that?

“Wh- sorry what?”

“I want you t’be mine, forever”

“Joel you’re drunk” you chuckle.

“Yes, but I want you, I always want you every damn minute of every day. I can’t fuckin’ fault you baby you’re absolutely amazin’ at everythin’ you do, treat my daughter like she’s your own. Man I wana fuckin’ worship the ground you walk on for the rest of my life; I just can’t get over how amazin’ you are. And I’ve fallen in love with you.”

Fuck. Is this really happening?

“Joel” you stutter, “I don’t, I really don’t know what to say. I just, this is a lot” you move away from him slightly so you’re able to look him in the eye.

“I know you don’t believe me but s’true.” He mumbles as he leans toward you.

“Joel what are you doin?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“What?”

You’re surprised more so than anything that he’s actually asking permission. He’s pissed but still being a gentleman. That’s more than you’ve ever experienced before, but that’s how Joel has always been. Going above and beyond for the girls who mean so much to him in life. He respects women the way they should be respected.

“I wana kiss you so bad.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea Joel.”

“Please lemme kiss you, v’wanted to for so long. Just been too much of a pussy t’ever ask you.”

He leans forward more losing his balance, so you place your hands to his chest to push him back up “Woah, okay big guy listen, I’ll stay over tonight as planned just in case you or Sarah need me, but nothing’s happening, I’ll let it happen if you still feel the same way in the morning, okay? Now go to bed you need to start sleeping this off.”

As much as you want to believe what he’s saying you don’t know how much is the whiskey talking and the last thing you want is to embarrass yourself OR him.

He pouts but nods before standing from his seat and walking to the stairs staggering as he treks up. “I’ve already put you a glass of water on your bed side table, drink it please” you add.

He turns back to smile at you as you move to place his shoes by the front door. “Such a good girl” he utters as he staggers his way up.

It sends tingles through your whole body. ‘Such a good girl’ replays in your mind over and over as you find yourself eventually in bed falling asleep too.

—

When he wakes up, he wakes to the smell of coffee and that hasn’t happened in a long ass time. Plus he’s got a banging headache, but his heart is also going one hundred miles an hour.

That’s when it dawns on him- shit he told you the truth. He had a lot to drink, enough to make a fool of himself but not enough to forget and yeah, he did mean exactly what he said to you, and he will tell you that. He sits up in bed familiarising himself with his surroundings, the room still spinning slightly, he looks to his bedside table and finds the glass of water he downed last night refilled and some painkillers there waiting for him.

He smiles knowing that means you’ve snook your way into his room during the night to ensure he’s looked after. He quickly takes the tablets and downs the whole glass completely parched from last night’s shenanigans. His body shakes slightly but not from the effects of the alcohol, he’s nervous to face you.

After eventually dressing himself, he walks down the stairs watching you sat at the table feeding Sarah her porridge. Neither of them have noticed him and so he stands and watches for a minute before interrupting the bonding moment.

“Is that yummy?”

She shrieks in reply "yah!"

“Mmm yeah it looks sooo yummy, you’re such a pretty girl huh you want some more?”

“Mo!”

“Yeah, some more good girl you’re so smart!” You praise as you place another spoonful into her mouth. She’s always been quick at everything she’s already walking and she’s saying some words. She’s the smartest little girl and you’re so proud of her.

“She gets that from me.” He adds startling you. You jump in your seat.

“Jesus, you made me jump” you chuckle.

Sarah giggles at the sight of you jumping.

“Dada!” She calls.

“Hey babygirl, is that nice?”

She nods smacking her porridge covered chops together.

“How you feeling?” You quiz observing the way he squints at the light.

After pouring himself a coffee he comes to seat himself in the chair next to you. “Like absolute utter s. h. i. t”

“I bet, you were pretty out of it, said some crazy stuff last night.”

“I did?”

“You don’t remember?”

Of course he does but he likes this game “enlighten me.”

“Oh no, I wouldn’t want to embarrass you, you said some things, there was this one point where I actually kinda started to believe you, but I knew it was all the drink talking. I won’t embarrass you by bringing it back up.”

“Darlin.” It comes out almost like a stern warning, shutting up your rambling instantly.

“Yeah?” You reply softly

“I know exactly what I said last night.”

“Oh, you do?” You drop Sarah’s spoon into the bowl as you stare at him.

“Yes, I do, and I meant everythin’ that I said. Absolutely every word.”

“Seriously?”

“M’deadly serious, I wouldn’t joke about somethin’ as important as this.”

You smile, “well that’s really good to know” and then you turn back to his daughter giving her another mouthful when she squeaks in annoyance of having to wait.

He sits on the seat next to you and admires your connection with his daughter. The way she reacts to you and just how natural you are with her. Your motherly instincts kick in instantly with Sarah and she’s not even blood. He’s been mesmerised by the way you handle Sarah since she’s been born, even back when Sarah’s mom was still around.

“Oh messy girl!” You coo when she puts her hand into her bowl and splashes it around.

“I got a plan” he grumbles as he places a hand to the small of your back sending goosebumps up and down your body.

“What’s that?” You quiz not taking your eyes off Sarah as you give her another mouthful.

“You and me Friday night, m’gonna take you out. I’ll get Tommy t’watch Sarah.”

You gasp at the feeling of him rubbing your back with so much care and in the fact that he’s going out of his way to take you out.

“We’ll go to that Italian you love. What do y’think?”

You turn to look at him with a smile. “I’d love that so much. Thank you, Joel.”

“My pleasure girl, just wana treat you the way you deserve and prove to you I want this and will always be in it one hundred percent as long as that’s what you want too.”

“It’s what I want.” You reply without hesitation, and he chuckles.

“Good.” He leans in placing a kiss at your temple and you close your eyes to savour the feeling of his lips on your skin for a few seconds before he pulls back away. When he does you both stare at Sarah who is looking back at you both with the biggest grin on her face. Showing off her few teeth.

You could get used to this being your life day in day out. You’ve already wished it were for months. And it seems it might actually happen now Joel has been truthful, you’ve hoped this would happen for a long time, have loved Joel for much longer than you care to admit, but it seems he’s felt the same and like you had just been too afraid to say something.

Bring on Friday night.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for telling my mom to either get me what I've asked for, or to just get me gift cards?

This probably makes me sound horrible and ungrateful, but this is an issue I've had for about the last ten years of my life. I love my mother dearly, and I am so insanely grateful that we are in a financial position where we can receive gifts at all. I'd genuinely be happy with just a card and a cozy day in, but my mom always insists it isn't Christmas without at least one or two things under the tree.

I always ask her routinely as we inch toward the later months of the year what she'd like, and I do my best to get her exactly what she wants. I'll get her one or two other things too, like some skincare or chocolates or shoes or something, but I always stick to what she actually asks for.

If she asks me for a specific dress, she'll get it. If she asks me for a certain type of perfume, she'll get it.

The same....Cannot be said for her.

I've begged her over the years to just stick to getting me what I ask for. I don't ask for anything expensive. I think the most expensive thing I've ever asked for were concert tickets, and I offered to pay half. I just more or less wanted help actually getting them, because as we all know, concert tickets sell so fast its like you blink and they're gone, and the more people you have trying to get them the more chances of success.

Usually I'll ask for something like a particular poster I saw online, or a bedding set, a new phone case, ect. Small, easy to get things because honestly, I don't need that much.

What I actually end up with is a bunch of random stuff I will never use and clothing I'd never wear and once or twice, tickets to do things I hate doing.

Its like she asks me what I want then goes out of her way to get me the exact opposite of what I've asked for. She always pouts at me and berates me for 'looking disappointed' or never using anything she gets me (I hold onto it for a few months then quietly give it away to a friend or thrift store).

It makes me feel guilty, but this is a conversation we have every. Single. Christmas.

(For example I'll ask for, say, a pair of white shoes. What I'll actually get is a box of wind up toys from the dollar store, expensive paint brushes when I've never touched paint in my life, and a box of chocolates from a brand I don't like.)

This year, once again, she asked me for my list, and I just gave her some stores and told her I'd like gift cards to those places. She gave me a weird look and dropped it, but asked again a few times, and each time I just reiterated what stores I wanted gift cards to.

Well lo behold, I come home from college and there's packages under the tree. Proper packages, not just envelopes or anything else that a gift card would realistically be in.

I guess I was staring at the tree with a weird/sour expression, because it wound up starting an argument between us. Her argument was she's getting me gifts, I should be grateful, and she tries really hard but I'm just 'impossible to please.'

My argument is I tell her repeatedly exactly what I want and not once have I ever gotten what's actually on my list. In which case, why the fuck should I bother writing a list? I'd rather have the gift cards so I can buy exactly what I wanted in the first place.

She said I ask for clothes, I get clothes. I said I ask for specific clothes and she gets me ones that I wouldn't even look at in the store, let alone buy.

The whole argument ended up with her calling me an ungrateful asshole and confiscating my gifts to return them all after the New Year. She told me I can just have the money from returning them and 'be fucking happy for once.'

Its Christmas Eve and she's still not speaking to me. I feel terrible, but I'm also relieved. Either this means from now on she won't get me anything, or from now on if she asks for my list she'll actually get me what's on it.

My dad is staying in the middle. He said I'm right, and over the years he's tried to convince her not to buy all that stuff, but he also said I should've just done what I always do, fake a smile, and get rid of it later.

Is he right or was this fight a blessing in disguise? Am I the asshole for ruining Christmas or am I justified in voicing what I have for the last ten years running?

What are these acronyms?

[mellowmistt]

The Sleepover-Chris Sturniolo (Part 2)

Summary: The following week after you and Chris slept together, things are tense, and whilst you’re trying to keep a low profile and act casual around Nick and Matt, things get heated again, and you are caught by one of his brothers..

Warnings: Swearing; fluff; unestablished relationship; NO use of Y/N

A/N: Make sure you have read The Sleepover-Chris Sturniolo (part 1, it’s pinned on my profile!)before reading this! Special mention @nickandhisdrpepper for the request <3

———————————

It was exactly a week since I was last at their house. Since the 'sleepover'. Since Chris…

I was with them again, getting lunch at a pizza restaurant. I had always enjoyed hanging around with Nick, Matt and Chris, most of the time I love it more than hanging around with my girlfriends. They had just always been there for me, and I know that they always will. I first met Matt in 5th grade, we sat next to each other in English and Science and immediately clicked. And of course after a few months I grew bonds with his brothers as I saw them more often. I just always saw them as my best friends, and I never imaged that what happened between Chris and I last week would have happened. Ever since we started high school and Chis started to change, as he was the first out of his brothers to start to mature, my feelings turned into more than just admiration of friendship. I started to gain more stronger feelings for him, seeing him in the school hallways and watching other girls trail him with their eyes. However, I didn't want to ruin what we already had, so I tried to supress those feelings as much as I could. I would never have thought that he returned those same feelings for me.

We found an empty booth near the back of the restaurant, I shuffled to the end, and Chris followed and sat next to me, Nick and Matt sat opposite.

"Mmmm, I'm just gonna get a pepperoni" Matt says as he scans the menu.

"Yeah same" Chris responds, looking over my arms at the menu that i'm holding.

"You guys are so boring you always get that" Nick says, side-eyeing them both before choosing his pizza.

"Honestly i'm just feeling plain cheese today, margarita" He adds, as he places the menu back into the holder.

"And you just called US boring" Chris chirps.

"Yeah i'll have a margarita too" I say, glancing at Chris, watching his smile slowly fade.

"So Matt, I heard you had quite the morning after I left last week, hangover get you good?" I ask, I felt Chris's gaze on me as I changed the subject to that day.

"Ugh tell me about it, my fucking head was pounding and then I had these two fucker's yelling at me for laying in my bed all day" Matt responds.

"I know the feeling"I reply, when I suddenly felt a hand on my thigh, I looked down, trying to act casual as if I was brushing something off my jeans, when I saw Chris's hand brushing over my leg. As I looked up again, I saw his smile in the corner of my eyes.

"What are you smiling at?" Matt asks with suspicion.

"I was just thinking about this tiktok I saw this morning" Chris says, adding a small chuckle at the end.

"What was it? Nick asks.

I looked at Chris, awaiting his made up video. The good thing about Chris is that he can just come out with the most random shit, so this should be easy for him. I raised my eyebrows as he glanced at me before he speaks.

"Uh, this little girl was walking around a zoo and this monkey was running around and the little girl didn't see it coming, so when she was turning to go back to her mom or whoever was filming her, she tripped over the monkey as it was running past" He says.

I couldn't help but start laughing, watching his smile as he was making up random shit and seeing Nick and Matt's confused faces was priceless.

"I saw that too, I feel bad for laughing she was cute!" I lie, avoiding suspicion as Nick and Matt were know looking at me, knowing I don't usually laugh so much at dumb videos like that.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom real quick" I say, turning towards Chris, signaling for him to get up so I can shuffle out of the booth.

"Yeah I'm gonna go too while I'm up." Chris says. I give him a wide-eyed look as if to say 'What the fuck are you doing' as I brush past him.

Since it was only a small restaurant, the toilets consisted of two lockable rooms. Chris followed me into one, locking the door behind us.

"What are you doing! They could have saw you come in her with me, and what was that? With the hand? What if they noticed!"

"Relax," He cuts me off, as he grabs my hands, leaning in for a kiss.

"Okay we can't be in here long, and I do actually have to pee" I smile at him as I gently pulled away.

"I know, I just missed your lips kissing me, haven't seen you since the other day" He responds.

We glance in each other's eyes for a moment before responding. As much as I would love to just leave the restaurant with him right now, I couldn't risk anything.

"Chris, go back the he table, boys only take a minute tops to pee, we can't go back at the same time or risk being seen leaving the same toilet" I say with a small smile, I didn't want to sounds too harsh.

"Okay gorgeous, anything for you!" He replies, pulling my hands up to kiss them before smoothly gliding out of the room.

We were now back at the house, I was in the kitchen making chocolate chip cookies with Nick, Chris hovering around us, half helping. Matt was out, in a meeting.

"Okay, in the oven they gooo" Nick says, placing the tray into the oven, before his phone on the counter started singing out a ringtone.

"Oh, I gotta take this call, Chris clean the bowls!" He orders, running up the stairs to his room.

It was now just me and Chris. I started to gather all of the used utensils splayed all over the counter, and as i placed them into the sink I felt his hands grab my waist. He moved my hair away from my shoulder as he gently planted kisses on me.

"It was sooo annoying not being able to tell you how sexy you look when you're cooking" He whispers into my ear.

"Oh yeah?" I whisper back, turning to face him and placing my arms around his shoulders.

"Mhmmm" He mumbles with dark eyes, thirsting for me. He leans in to kiss me again, our tongues meet. He grabs my ass and lifts me up onto the counter next to the sink. I let out a small gasp, before smiling and reattatching my lips to his. It felt like I was under compulsion, maybe I had been craving him this past week in the same way that he had been longing for me. At this point the fear that we would get caught had completely left my body. I just wanted him. The smell of his cologne, the feeling of his hands on me, trailing my body down my thighs until he reaches the back of my knee and lifts it up slightly, supporting me, the other hand on the other side of my waist. Our heads slightly tilted as we indulged into eachother. One of the bowls smashes against the ground when I accidently knock it off the counter as I go to wrap my hand around Chris's head, trailing through his hair.

"What the fuck."

I let out as gasp as I pull away from Chris, quickly jumping off the counter, facing Matt who was standing at the top of the first set of stairs.

Shit.

Shit.

SHIT.

"Chris-" Matt starts to say as he walks closer.

"Matt shut the fuck up and relax" Chris says as he grabs the bowl that fell off the counter.

"How long has this been going on?" Matt asks, his voice sharp, and increasingly getting louder.

"What the fuck is going on?" Nick says, approaching down the stairs.

Matt justs stands there, still awaiting an answer from both of us, Nick next to him, confused.

"We were just cleaning up" Chris says, looking at Nick.

"Yeah, cleaning up each other's mouths!" Matt says, turning to Nick with a hand pointing towards the the counter.

"Matt!" Chris snaps.

"The fuck?" Nick replies, gazing at us both with confusion.

"You guys gonna explain yourselves or just stand there like fucking statues?" Matt asks, crossing his arms.

"It just happened...we had a..moment last week, I'm sorry." I say, fiddling with my fingers as I look between Matt and Nick.

Chris glances at me with empathetic eyes.

"I'm not." He says, before glancing back at his brothers again. "I love her, I always have.”

I look at him, slightly jaw dropped that he is admitting that. I glance back over to Nick and Matt.

"Well, shit." Nick finally says.

A/N: Should I continue with this as a series? Let me know 🫶

[writteninlunarlight-years]

Now .listen to me Luna I will haunt your dreams if you don't do a part two of "Things I Wish I Got To Say" Where we get redeemed ,and after some time Alastor also gets into heaven which why we meet again .

If that doesn't happen then I advise you to lock your doors because my heart is in pieces.

(I fucking love your writing)

The Things I Wanted To Say

Alastor X Reader

(You guys ask, and I must produce, lol. Here is a happier ending to my previous post, The Things I Wish I Got to Say. Thank you for all the love and support.)

You were like any other demon in hell. You were cold and calculating, standoffish and stubborn. It was cute, but I wouldn’t tell you that to your face. I knew you had your set ways in life, and I had mine. I never thought the day would come when I would never see that familiar smile again. Something so cherished in my time by your side that I refused to forget even in my new life.

I thought surely Charlie's magical ideas would never be actual or possible. However, her smile and joy were so contagious that I returned to that hotel countless times to help her achieve her dreams. See, when I died the first time, I was being attacked; in my defense from the attacker, I killed them, and I was cast to hell. It's an odd thing to be considered a sinner, but I wouldn’t change it for the world, especially since I got to see you all those days.

What hurt the most when I left hell wasn’t the sword to my chest or the ringing in my ears. It was knowing I would never see that smile again. That was the worst part of it all, honestly. I got so used to the sound of your static, the buzz of your voice, the joy hanging off your arms.

I still remember when you taught me how to dance. I was horrible at it, I know, but you made me feel like I was the best at it all the same. You made me feel the best at a lot of things, from dancing to cooking. You even let me write scripts for you a time or two. 

I still laugh when I remember how I told you ‘I Know’ when you confessed your love for me. Would you believe me if I told you I was just scared you were lying to me? Yet when you held me close after saying it, you washed all those worries away. I was fortunate to be there with you.

I sometimes still wish I listened to you that night when you begged me to run away. Maybe had I listened, I would still be by your side or have seen your smile. Yet I didn’t. Would you like to know why, my love? Because the thought of you dying without me was too heartbreaking to handle. I couldn’t imagine a life without you, yet here I was, making you live without me.

When I arrived in heaven with Pentious, everyone was shocked. These two angels were there, Emily and Sera. One sure looked more happy than the others. However, Pentious and I fought to make Charlie's dream a reality here in Heaven, too…I know she saw me up here when she visited last. Did she tell you I was alive and well?

Do you care I am alive and well?

I wish to see you again, my love…maybe one day, you will be redeemed as well.

To: My Radio Demon

From: Your Doe

A loud banging was heard at my door. I rushed to cover up my desk, and as I made my way to the door, I straightened myself out, whipping my eyes from the tears I let out. Charlie had brought me the letter that Alastor had written in my absence, and I felt compelled to respond even if he would never read it. Opening the door, I see the young Seriphem Emily standing before me with a bright smile. “OH, Y/N, YOU NEED TO COME WITH ME QUICK!” 

I laughed. She was always so happy when a new batch of hotel residents was redeemed. She always wanted Pentious or me to be there so we could help them adjust to this new life. “Em, please I…I have had a long day…How about you ask Pentious to go instead.” Though I hated to see her frown, she nodded in sad agreement. I closed the door and returned to my desk, looking at the two letters next to each other. When would Charlie be back to give this to him? Would he even read it? Does he hate me for dying? 

As thoughts swam through my head, I recounted the years since my arrival here in Heaven. Looking at all my new photos of my time and journey here, I wondered if my old room in Hell still had those photos from my time there. Charlie said Alastor wouldn’t let a soul into my room once I was gone. 

It took a lot of arguing and convincing to get the angels on Charlie's side even after we appeared here in Heaven. Yet I couldn’t be more proud of the progress all of us have made. Smiling, I let more tears fall. I missed you so much. As I let the dam of emotions release, I heard another knock at my door.

I hoped it wasn’t Emily, though I have always been kind; I knew my current temper would rival my old self in Hell. “EMILY GO AWAY I CAN’T GO OUT NOW!” 

I had so much sorrow and pleading in my voice that I hoped she understood. Yet the knocking continued, only growing more frantic. I sighed, not even bothering to clear my desk as I made my way to the door. Em had often seen me cry over Alastor, so why would this time be any different? 

As I opened the door, time seemed to freeze, to stop dead still. I couldn’t believe my eyes. A new wave of tears and emotions overran my being, and before I knew it, I was jumping into Alastors' arms.

“Hello, dear, long time no see. Did you miss me?” He spoke so clearly, with no static or radio edge. It was odd at first, but it made no difference; the man I loved was standing before me here right now. “Alastor! You are here! How? What?” As I spoke, I pulled away and saw he no longer sported the Red and Black of his typical look. No, he looked ethereal, angelic. Alastor had been redeemed, The Alastor, overlord, and soul owner was redeemed. “Well, my darling, it took a lot of work and quite a few freeing of souls to make this happen.” He smiled, but not the strained, forced smile; it was a regular, normal smile. I felt so at peace; my Alastor was back.

“Oh, Al, you did all of this for me?” He nodded his head, pulling me back into him once more. This time, over his shoulder, I could see a smiling Charlie, Pentious, and Em at our reunion. Pulling me back to face him, I yanked him into the room and closed the door. “Al, we have so much to catch up on; there is no time to waste.” A warm chuckle left his chest as he held me once more. We had all the time in the world now, safe from hell, contracts, and everything that wasn’t our pure, happy love.

I finally have the chance to tell him all The Things I Wanted To Say…

(aha, did I trick you guys there for a moment, thinking it was just another letter. hehe)

[poledancingdinos]

BFF Sy

Pairing: Young!Syverson & OFC (Gen fic)

Word Count: 1670 words

Taglist: @amberangel112 @utterlyhopeful-fics @marantha​ @kebabgirl67 @littleone65 @omgkatinka @luclittlepond @elizabetharegina @enchantedbytomandhenry @narnianaos @geralts-yenn @peaches1958 @avengersfan25 @sillyrabbit81 @lena-banena @mrsevans90 @confessionbrain-writings @eclecticfashionbookszipper @rosecentury @shellyshellshell

A/N: I haven't been able to write anything for a while so instead of making actual progress on a WIP, I spent way too many hours formatting this for AO3 to justify having only written dialogue. So if you want to get the full experience, I recommend checking it out here. Made a creator skin and everything.

Masterlist

You 12:47 A.M. : Desi’s new friends are EXACTLY like Chris’ friends used to be, it’s almost disturbing

Sy 12:53 A.M. : Ain’t that a good thing? I thought ya missed the metalheads after the breakup.

You 12:54 A.M. : I did. It’s just so out of character for Desi, you know? Her new BF is so different from others before

Sy 12:55 A.M. : But yeah, when me and L left your place I joked that it felt like Desi was sitting between you and your boyfriend rather than her sitting next to her own BF. So weird to see her with an emo kid instead of a suit.

You 12:56 A.M. : I’m headed home

You 12:57 A.M. : It’s about an hour

Sy 12:57 A.M. : RIP

Sy 12:58 A.M. : Didja take your sleep aids so you can just go to bed when you get home?

You 12:58 A.M. : Not yet

You 12:58 A.M. : Don’t want to risk having a dizzy spell on my solo walk home

Sy 12:59 A.M. : Fair.

You 12:59 A.M. : I’m pretty far from home so I’m being a little more safety minded

Sy 1:00 A.M. : Good. We just finished up a bit of cardio so now I’m wide awake and L is passed out 🤣

You 1:00 A.M. : Funny, it’s usually the other way around

Sy 1:01 A.M. : It’s the clean up afterwards that always wakes me up.

Sy 1:02 A.M. : I can doom scroll a bit and keep ya company if ya want.

You 1:03 A.M. : I wouldn’t mind a witness to my survival

You 1:04 A.M. : Right now I’m sitting in the first subway car behind the driver but as I walk I may call you

Sy 1:05 A.M. : Sure thing.

You 1:06 A.M. : Anyway, the guys were nice but loud as fuck

You 1:06 A.M. : Very into screaming along with the music

Sy 1:07 A.M. : Oh boy. How was Desi handling it?

You 1:07 A.M. : Well actually

You 1:08 A.M. : Even when her BF’s band showed up and things got extra loud

Sy 1:09 A.M. : You know, I was a little bummed I missed the night out with you guys when ya texted me earlier.

Sy 1:09 A.M. : Doesn’t sound like something I would have enjoyed after all lol

You 1:10 A.M. : Not at all. You like good music but not at that volume

You 1:12 A.M. : I wasn’t supposed to go but Leon said I was welcome as he left and Desi confessed that she had never met most of the people that were there and that she would appreciate a familiar face so I went with her after supper

Sy 1:13 A.M. : That’s nice

You 1:14 A.M. : But it was loud enough that my throat is a little raw now. I was honestly concerned that someone would call the cops

Sy 1:16 A.M. : Maybe with enough alcohol I would have been able to have fun lol

You 1:16 A.M. : I was the only sober person. The others had either had copious amounts of alcohol or copious amounts of weed

Sy 1:17 A.M. : It’s better you be sober for the return trip anyway.

You 1:18 A.M. : Leon and his back up vocalist were singing Bohemian Rhapsody at one point and Leon was chugging beer to rehydrate between the different parts 🤣

Sy 1:19 A.M. : Isn’t that how the professionals do it? 😅

You 1:20 A.M. : Only the ones in need of weekly meetings in church basements

Sy 1:21 A.M. : To be fair, the fact that he was able to both remember and sing the lyrics while drunk and high is impressive.

You 1:22 A.M. : Gotta give credit where credit is due, I guess 🤷‍♀️

You 1:23 A.M. : Getting off at the next stop

Sy 1:24 A.M. : Alright.

Sy 1:24 A.M. : Then you catch a bus?

You 1:25 A.M. : No, it’s a 15 minute walk

You 1:26 A.M. : Out of the station and walking

Sy 1:27 A.M. : Call whenever.

I wait until I’m across the street from the station to lift my phone to my ear. It only rings once before the call connects and I hear Sy’s deep voice.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

I hop down from the sidewalk onto the street to pass a man walking ahead of me. Why do people insist on moving at a crawl dead center in the middle of the sidewalk I will never understand.

“Didja have fun tonight?”

“Surprisingly, yes but not as much as you, I bet.”

Sy chuckles on the other end of the line. “Matter of perspective.”

“How was your family dinner?”

“Painful. Except for the dog. It was nice to have her around again.”

Sy’s apartment doesn’t allow pets other than for short visits so he wasn’t able to get his own dog after leaving his mother’s. Frankly, the dog is probably the main reason he didn’t move out sooner. He held out way longer than I would have. He’s also a good southern boy and doesn’t ever talk back, unlike me. I’ve got a mouth on me and I ain’t afraid to use it to tell people where they can shove it.

“What about you? Anything interestin’ happen after I left?”

“Not really, we mostly got caught up on our girl talk. Leon left around five to get to his mother’s day dinner. Desi and I left my place around eight. We ate at the little burger place on the corner then got to Leon’s a little before ten.”

I walk past the restaurant in question as I speak.

“Did it start rainin’ out?”

“More like lightly drizzling.”

“Are you still only wearin’ your shorts and crop top?”

I know he’s mostly asking out of worry that I’m going to get cold but I have no doubt there’s also a little part of him that’s worried my outfit from earlier would attract unwanted attention.

“I changed into jeans before leaving since I knew the walk home would be chilly and I put my giant hoodie on for the trip home.”

It’s a triple XL zip front I got from my old job. I found a bunch of old seasonal shirts when cleaning out the store room and my boss had let me take my pick of the leftovers before donating the rest. There had been one hoodie at the very bottom that had likely remained unclaimed because of the size. You could fit three of me in it at the same time but it’s comfortable and right now, it’s a small protection against potential unwanted attention.

“I’ve only seen, like, three people on the street and the road is well lit but, you know…”

“Better safe than sorry. I don’t mind darlin’.”

I can tell he’s getting tired since it’s about three hours past his normal bedtime. I’ve never been particularly worried about walking home alone at night. Hell, I’ve wandered around strange cities in the middle of the night to sober up in the hopes of avoiding a nasty hangover. Just the other day the girls I work with were saying how they don’t like taking the subway at night because they had too many bad experiences with being catcalled or with other passengers making them uncomfortable.

Me? Well, I’ve never been catcalled and men don’t normally look twice at me. I guess my above average height and my resting bitch face have made me overly confident. Or I’m just proof that women don’t come out of the womb feeling the need to clutch their keys in their fist at night unless men have done something to make them feel unsafe.

“At least I remembered to charge my phone before leaving.”

“Thank fuck for that.”

I wasn’t expecting Sy to actually be awake when I texted so the phone battery was more to make sure I knew when the last subway was and to call a cab in case I missed it.

“So are you camping out on the couch while we talk?”

L is surprisingly cool with our friendship but I’m pretty sure being woken up by your boyfriend talking on the phone with another woman in the middle of the night is a no-go for even the most laidback of girlfriends.

“Yeah. I got up for some water so I figured I’d just stay out here and avoid wakin’ L.”

“How dirty did you get her that the clean up pulled you out of the post nut drowsiness? You start dabbling in watersports or something?”

“Fuck off, there were no water sports involved.” Sy releases an audible yawn. “I didn’t think I’d miss condoms but they sure as hell made cleanup faster. By the time we both finish up in the bathroom I’m always wide awake.”

I hum in understanding. L is Sy’s first long-term girlfriend and they just recently dropped the latex after L got on birth control. “Do you have to get up to do that?”

“What, ya want us to just roll over and go to sleep? I already sweat my balls off at night, I don’t need to add wet spots into the mix.”

“You could keep baby wipes by the bed for late night cardio sessions. Avoid having to get up and go to the bathroom. Or bring a wet rag in with you beforehand.”

“That’s… not a bad idea actually.”

I pull my bag off my shoulder as I wait for the light to change. Might as well dig my keys out since I’m almost home. “Yeah, I’m full of good sex advice.” 

“I knew I kept ya around for a reason.”

I smile to myself. We both know that we wouldn’t have made it to ten years of friendship if all I had to offer was sex advice.

“I’m about to turn onto my street. I feel like the walk was shorter than usual.”

“Well, you’re breathin’ kinda heavy. You must’ve been walkin’ faster.”

He’s not wrong. I must be really out of shape if I can’t walk and talk without getting winded. Holding my phone between my cheek and my shoulder, I put my key in the lock and pull the door open.

I don’t remember what time it is until the door slams shut behind me. Oops.

“I’m safely behind a locked door. You are relieved from your babysitting duties.”

I linger in the entrance for a few seconds since the call would probably cut off if I stepped into the elevator.

“I’m up for babysittin’ whenever ya need it. Glad you’re home safe. G’night.”

“Good night.”

[thebisexualdogdad]

Could you do Felicia Hardy smut headcanons please?

Felicia Hardy x GN!reader

*Danielle Rose Russell used as fancast*

**I think about sex with Felicia far too often* *

● Felicia's sex drive is off the charts

● seriously, she needs to cum at least twice a day to feel even remotely satisfied

● and if you aren't there to make it happen she has plenty of toys to get the job done

● she owns quite the lingerie collection

● so many black lace pieces

● her favorites are see through bras because she knows those drive you particularly crazy

● "see something you like?" She'll say standing in the doorway of your bedroom in nothing but a revealing lace bra and panty set

● and it drives her crazy when you worship her tits

● sucking and toying with her nipples

● making her cum just from stimulating her chest

● having her ride your thigh while you're lavishing her breasts

● and leaving hickies all across her skin

● she melts when you call her a good girl

● you will be in the middle of a heist and she'll pull her zipper down ever so slightly to tease you with her tits

● "better pay attention love don't want to set off the museum alarm now do we?"

● "how the hell am I supposed to focus when you're taunting me like that?"

● "what can I say? I have great assets"

● "you sure do Felicia, you sure do"

● there's nothing she loves more than oral

● doesn't matter if she's giving or receiving

● you frequently wake up to her settled in between your legs

● and she works you like a pro giving you an incredible start to your morning

● and you always make sure to return the favor

● spending hours between her legs leaving your bedsheets absolutely soaked from how many times she cums

● anytime you run into her ex Odessa it ends in you two bringing her back to your place for a threesome

● Odessa always praises Felicia for finding someone so good in bed

● "at least I know you are being well taken care of Felicia"

● "you haven't even seen their best work"

● anytime you score huge on heists you have insane celebratory sex

● fucking on every surface of your apartment possible

● bringing out your special occasion toys

● speaking of, your toy box is full of contraptions that most people have never even heard of

● Felicia's got a list of kinks so long you'll never run out of new things to try

● and she introduces you to positions that shouldn't be humanly possible

● mid heist quickies that get your adrenaline pumping

● her bending over for no real reason just to show off her ass in her tight leather suit to turn you on

● you have no problem when Felicia flirts with people to either get intel or to steal something from them

● no one can resist her and she gets her prize every time

● "what do you think this watch is worth? 15-20k?" She grins walking back to your table after swiping a watch off some rich guy at the bar

● "whatever it's worth it's definitely paying for our next trip to Europe" you say kissing her proudly

● it's honestly pretty hot watching people hit on her knowing you're the one who gets to take her home

● but when certain people get a little too handsy with her she will drag you somewhere more private to ensure you that you are the only one she wants

● you guys have a nice big apartment that overlooks New York city but it is fun to break into penthouses and luxury hotels for a change of scenery every so often

● and when you travel you book the nicest hotels to screw around in

● fucking her on balconies with breathtaking views

● everyday is an adventure with Felicia

● and you wouldn't give it up for anything