Tumgik
#this knocked me for six OH MY GOD!
screampied · 3 months
Text
‘ IT'S A MATCH: LAST FRIDAY NIGHT ! ,
Tumblr media Tumblr media
profile. girl, matching with your best friend on tinder is pretty awkward. hooking up with him, even more awkward. wanna know what’s even worse though? saying that word—i love you.
wc 4.9k
warnings. fem! reader, modern au, humor, size kink, mutual pining, loser boy gojo, unprotected, cheesy pick up lines, praise, touch starved satoru, cunnìlingus, overstim, créampie, i felt silly ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
an. old old draft ;') based on the song last friday night. damn!
Tumblr media Tumblr media
“mannn i’m so cooked,” gojo murmurs to himself, pacing back and forth. he’s dragging his feet against the silkened strands of the carpet before a soft pout spreads across his lips. “she left me on delivered for seven minutes…… seven.”
to be fair, in actuality you did. only because you were occupied with doing your hair. gojo being gojo was freaking out, thinking you were probably uninterested. albeit, once you finally did reply, his heart nearly fell out of his chest.
‘how does 7 pm sound?’
‘soid@:$:@) good’
‘um what?’
gojo mentally smacks his forehead, stupidly mashing on his keyboard, barely even letting a second go by once you responded. he was way too eager, he intakes a sharp breath before smiling — replying with a cheesy thumbs up.
he had the dumbest grin plastered on his face. after his best friend, you, advising him to give dating apps a try, he actually does. gojo matched with a lot of women not even minutes after installing the app onto his phone. how coincidental that the main person who caught his attention was you, the both of you matched and he made sure to text you first.
who knew though. that you’d be matching with the one and only satoru gojo. definitely not you, and of course, not him.
despite what everyone said, gojo was a bit of a womanizer, sure. but he was also a huge hopeless romantic.
he started fooling around on dating sites . . not looking for love necessarily but mainly to pass time. you mentioned it to him and he decided to give it a try.
pretty soon, time flew by quick. with a quick snap, it was just about to hit six o’clock pm.
gojo threw on grey sweats and ruffled up his hair a bit. he couldn’t lie to himself, first date and he felt a bit nervous. who was he kidding though, you told him to come to your apartment.
probably wouldn’t end up being a date, but still.
he read through your bio about three times, and your personality stood out to him.
you and him surprisingly had the same interests in lots of things, you loved sweets, and loathed scary movies. “…she’s so perfect,” he’d utter to himself, just imagining the sound of your sweet voice.
gojo abruptly snaps out of his thoughts—he didn’t want be too late, so with a quickness, he starts to make his way to your house.
with hands buried in his pockets, he gives a few hard knocks on the front of your door. about approximately nine seconds later, you open the door and his maw instantly drops. “y-you?”
“hey, y—satoru?” you mimicked the same reactions
the silence was practically deadly.
the two of you stared at each other for what seemed like centuries before you furrow your eyebrows. “satoru,” you mumble, bringing a hand towards your face to rub your forehead. “…you matched with me on purpose, didn’t you?”
“wha— noooo!” he protests, a cute pout tugging against the corners of his lips. he obviously did. you eyed him from head to toe. whilst his hands were buried into his pockets, you could tell that you made him a bit nervous. a light tint of color started to flush against his cheeks before he pulls on his sweater. “heh, is it gettin' hot in here or is it just me.”
“oh my god,” you suddenly spoke. “no wonder you didn’t have a profile picture,” and then you give him an abrupt glare. “satoru. why’d you even use the kfc logo as a profile picture anyway? idiot.”
“oh— it’s a long story.”
you deadpan, mentally face palming yourself.
gojo takes a good look at you, and he’s got a sudden sheepish grin. “woah,” he utters, and his eyes linger for a long time. he’s never seen you dress in such a formal pretty way. he felt a sudden heat rush to both sides of his face before without thinking, he murmurs. “you look kinda hot.”
“kinda? now i’m offended.” you scoff, tugging on your fishnets.
“all you’re getting from me,” he fake pouts. he then comes closer, closer . . all until he’s just inches apart.
one look at your dress and he just wanted to rip it off. you and him were so attached to the hip, he’s never expected to see you in this kind of light. if you were being honest, his gaze that ran against your entire figure made you a bit nervous.
throughout your long term friendship with gojo, he was known to be flirty every now and then. you figured that was just his personality but perhaps he started to view you different. “so,” he shrugs, bending down to your level as a way of mockery, “is this the part where we hook up?”
“well technically, yeah—” and you look right into his eyes.
he was just undressing you with eyes practically, cerulean bright irises roaming down your body before he hums. “…..oh,” and he awkwardly scratches his head. “so do i make the first move or—”
“you’re such an idiot. just kiss me, ‘toru.”
he snickers, and after what seemed like forever, gojo leans in for a kiss.
he was so pretty, he didn’t even have to try. long fluttering lashes that matched his snowy white strands flap closed. gojo tasted sweet, the moment his lips went against yours, you sink into his embrace. he was surprisingly a good kisser, not that you ever kissed your best friend or anything—but for some reason, it felt so warm.
so natural…
your heart, it starts to pick up a bit and your arms wrap around his broad shoulders.
gojo let off a soft grunt, your sweet aromatic perfume wafts right into his flared up nostrils. you shiver a bit, feeling his hands slowly drag up your body. minty, a good way to describe the brief taste that loiters on his breath. he was always chewing peppermint—an unserious guy with a sweet tooth, although this time maybe his sweet tooth was for you instead of casual sweets.
the kiss was passionate, you almost forgot you were literally making out with your best friend.
you did dream a bit about this moment, him holding you all close with his lips mashed against yours. his hand continue to wander, such big hands compared to yours. you slide your tongue against his before parting your lips just a bit further.
“….mhm,” he’d huff out in a muffled groan, and he made sure to focus his hands near your hips. his fingers brush against the thin fabric of your dress before he gives it a hasty yank.
steamy breaths collide against each other whilst each second passes—eventually, gojo’s leading you toward your bedroom.
no bother in asking you where everything was since he technically knew the layout of your house like the back of his hand. “wanted to do this for so long,” he finally speaks in shortened breaths—he’s panting, and you let off a soft gasp once he lifts you up. instinctively, your legs wrap around his waist and he slyly smiles. “you should really clean this place,” he murmurs, walking casually with you in his arms. “oh right, you can’t because you’re always at my house.”
“the point of hooking up is to not talk, satoru.”
“well excuse me,” he dramatically rolls his eyes.
at first you were a bit shy coming to the bitter realization that you ended up matching with gojo by pure luck. by now, things weren’t even that awkward—or at least awkward yet…
you didn’t wanna jinx it though, he leads you towards your bed before you plop down on your hands. you sit down, staring up at him and he starts to pull up his grey sweatshirt. you watch intensely, his abs peeking as he yanked it off before you spot a glance of his dark blue boxers hiding above his sweatpants.
so attractive . . .
you’ve seen gojo shirtless countless times but never completely nude. just imagining him, his glistening body presenting itself right in front of you… phew.
you intake a breath, mentally preparing yourself.
“awh,” he sneers, and you’re so secluded into your erotic thoughts that you don’t even realize he’s practically half naked now. all that was left was his wan-colored sweatpants. he was a tease, your eyes fixate towards his ripped chest—his abs, they were sublimely sculpted and chiseled.
sharp.
you felt like if you ran a finger down his perfectly structured v-line, you’d get a paper cut. his six pack flexed and you had to squeeze your legs shut. it was no surprise gojo had a daily work out routine. he’d even try to drag you to come with him sometimes. majority of the time, that’d go to no avail though. “enjoying the show, yeahhh?”
“shut up.” you grouse with a swift eye roll.
a smug grin curls up against his pink lips before he grabs your hand. “wanna feel me?” and you’re confused by what he wants you to feel until he makes you slowly slide your hand down his clenched pecs. you peer up at him, his body feels so warm— it was brick hard, exactly how you thought. your fingers continued to run down his ripped modeled chest before feeling against a scar. “cute fingers,” he teases, making it trail lower and lower until you spot his happy trail that was just about poking above from the very hem of his boxers. “you should pull them off of me.”
“fine,” you mutter with a puffy blow, bringing both hands towards his lower half. gojo stares, watching you pull down his sweatpants— then his briefs. you made sure to take your time, tugging on the stretchy aqua-blue fabric before within seconds, his length springs out. “you weren’t lying.”
“hm?” he says, watching your eyes continue to wander — he was definitely big, your memory suddenly refreshes of the pictures you exchanged with him, and the carpets very much did match the drapes. his shaft was . . turgid, at least the tip was. it was a pretty flashing pink, smeared with a few droplets of his own pre-cum. gojo was well trimmed, but had a few left over white specks scattered all across his base. he even had a cute mole down near the very edge of his length. specks of white hairs near his happy trail decorated his body, it was attractive. he had a left curve too, it was quite noticeable—a strikingly long vein that pulses at the sight of you, running down the very middle part of his dick and you merely moan.
as you move yourself closer, he’s stood standing while you’re sat on the bed and your glossy lips give his swollen tip a few chaste kisses.
“damnnnn,” he pants, feeling his cock twitch from the way your lips made instant contact with his tip.
the more you stared at his length from your peripherals—the more you observed its color. it had a rich rosy tan. slightly—still the same pinkish color with a brief tapered ridge. he was hefty, there was no question. inch after inch, he stood tall right in front of you. gojo claws a hand into your hair softly before sucking in his breath. “baby wait, i wanna do everything. ‘m already hard.”
you hum, amused—giving his frenulum a subtle lick before backing away, jibing out a, “oh really?” and then once he makes you lie back against the bed, you sit up with a sly grin. “do you even know how to eat pussy? and i’m not just talking about from your 'experience' from reddit or twit—”
“girl shut up,” his tone pitches an octave and it’s quite funny.
always sassy—you watch as gojo strum his fingers against your dress, taking his precious time to lift it up before feeling against your thighs. so soft, he’s always wanted to feel you—especially right here, take in every part of your curves, your gorgeous physique. his lips form into a cute scowl as he pulls you closer towards him. “i know what i’m doing.”
“yeah you do.” you sing along, and he shoots you a pout. you loved the banter between the two of you, toying along with him—he always made it so easy. it doesn’t take long before he starts peeling off your fishnets with his teeth, it was so dirty. you felt yourself throb a bit, edges of his teeth softly pricking against your skin as he yanks the thin nylon material made fishnets that stuck against your thighs.
your back lies flat against the bed and you intake a single breath. gojo rubs a hand against your tummy, you quaver a bit simply from his touch. he’s keeping eye contact the entire time too, irises never looking away for a split second—he mimics the same motion, peeling your panties off with his pearly canines.
it’s lewd, he doesn’t even pull them off all the way. instead, he just leaves it on you but has it rolled down to your thighs. “lotta back talk for a girl this soaked, to be honest.”
“ . . . . ”
you don’t reply, and he chuckles to himself. he finds your lack of an answer quite cute.
gojo stares between your parted thighs and your lips were all stretched—glistening with a sheet coat of your sweet arousal.
“so pretty,” he coos in a low voice, and you watch as he leans in—pressing a soft kiss against your entrance. immediately, his lips gets all shimmery from your own wetness and it’s hot. gojo purposely runs his tongue against his lips because he knows you’re staring directly at him. “my best friend tastes soooo sweet.”
“quit talking, ‘toru.” you moan and you don’t realize how your voice is becoming more and more shaky by the second.
“fine. fiiiiine, can’t have shit,” he grumbles playfully.
you stare as he prods two lengthy fingers against your slit. with a gulp, you prepare yourself. he gradually starts to insert two fingers inside, curling them up whilst it adapts to your warm walls and his arm shakes. “oooooh,” he whispers in a mere raspy voice. sweetened squelchy squelches came from your cunt and it was so loud it rang throughout your ears like church bells on a wedding day. “she’s quite— the talker, huhh.” he continues, and that’s right when he places his lips against your folds.
you swallow, feeling your back immensely arch from his hot lips.
gojo’s tongue swipes against your pussy. the middle part of his tongue skims down and it feels so good, he’s slow at first. he knows the exact direction to go and your toes curl. a free hand of his slides near your pubic mound, applying just the right amount of pressure—he does this so you can quickly feel your sweet g-spot. you do, and a gasp leaves your lips, it’s mindblowing.
already, he made you feel your forbidden g-spot.
you didn’t even know gojo—your dumb best friend had this kind of experience. as his palm presses down against the particular spot, his other hand is still occupied. lengthy fingers curl all throughout your walls, reaching every spot by prodding with just the right amount of deepness.
“f-fuckkk,” you whine, and suddenly your nerves make you shift your attention back towards his slick tongue. as his tongue was lolled out, a pretty clean pinkish tongue. he slithers it by using the back of his tongue, merely copying a sort of vacuuming type technique. the sounds that ran out his mouth was so filthy, your thighs start to twitch profusely and your hands found its way into his hair.
“s—satoruuu.” you’d babble and its only been a few minutes. a few long minutes, your squirming was cute to him. you tried focusing on your breathing patterns but that was no use. your mind went blank, empty like a canvas.
“mhm,” he groans, feeling himself get hard simply from your pitchy moans that reverberate and bounce across the thin walls. his fingers still went in and out of your cunt at a decent thrusting pace. the way you easily swallowed his two digits was just perfect, it didn’t take long at all for him to find your clit. “there she isssss,” he hisses cheekily, changing up his tongue strokes just a bit. it felt so good, heavenly. the way he drags it against your pussy. your jaw hung open with only sweetened sobs and whimpers leaving right past your spit-glossed lips.
whilst he’s rummaging through your vulva, he occasionally breaks away to spit right onto your cunt. it was no surprised gojo satoru was a messy man. he couldn’t help it, he’s fantasized about this exact scenario maybe once or twice. as his saliva trickles between your slit, he grunts as he watches. just all sopping wet just for him. he blows against your entrance just to make you squirm even more.
with his fingers still buried into your cunt, he does the ‘come here’ motion—a simplistically erotic motion where he uses not one but both index and his middle finger to flick back and forth inside of you. right there, oh you could have came.
“o-oh my goddd,” you whimper, his warm breath colliding against your arousal. “i-i’m close, satoru. think ‘m getting close.”
“aw,” he purrs in a sweet tone, using the flat of his tongue to lap up against your clit even further. you’re so soaked—his chin starts to drip with your slick and it’s so attractive. he pulls himself back to grin at you, a dumb pussy-drunken smile and nothing but your slick arousal running down his chin, so sheeny. “suck a little harder, she says?”
you nod, although you were sure your inevitable orgasm was quickly approaching.
your favorite part was when he sucks deeply against your clit, practically tongue fucking you. he had quite a long tongue so it did wonders, it made sure to reach every particular crevice imaginable. “nah don’t run from me now, gorgeous,” he utters sweetly once you squirm a bit more—he grabs on your hips, removing his two fingers just to hold you steadily in place. “give it to me, baby. show me how much of a messy girl my best friend can really be, huh.”
his dirty talk was just the icing on the cake. gojo’s just coaxing you towards your incoming release, all the while—it felt so good. the way your legs quavered, a trembling mess.
gojo’s holding your jerking hips against his mouth so he doesn’t miss a single taste. your mouth forms into a surprised 'o' and it’s like he’s been waiting his entire life for this moment—to be fair, he could have just asked a long time ago.
he was shy though, he didn’t wanna ruin the friendship—yet now that he’s propped up between your legs, eating you out like a starved man, you don’t know how you could continue to be just friends. not in a negative way, but after this—every time you’d stare at gojo, you’d just see his face that was right between your legs that one friday night ago.
once your orgasm comes, you whimper out— a ripple surging out of you and you’re so squirmy.
it was so intense, you fell into a trance, feeling that familiar spark combust and you’re slump back. your maw still hangs open and you’re so cute—only inaudible whimpers, cacophonies of his name, the repetitive whiney, “s—satoru, ‘toru.”
his nose brushes against your entrance before he pulls away—he grows quiet for a brief moment before sitting up, you’re out of breath before he leans in for a kiss. you moan right into his mouth, running a finger down his cute undercut and that makes him whine into your mouth. his undercut, he’s always liked the feeling of you running a finger down there—it hypnotized him in a way, the entire scene was so salacious. tasting yourself on his damp tongue, your legs wrapped around his waist and his dick brushes against your parted legs.
“you’re not that bad of a kisser, you know.” gojo mutters as he finally breaks away—a stringy shiny trail of spit departs and he sits up. “why can’t we do this more often?”
“you never ask,” you breathe, still getting over your recent release—he talks so much, you almost forgot how much of a blabbermouth he was. literally seconds ago his face was buried between your thighs and now he’s rambling to you about a sale he spotted on one of his favorite candies. “. . yeah yeah, lie back now.”
he lies back against the bed and watches as you make your way towards him. he lands backwards with an ‘oof’ before raising his eyebrows in amusement. “oh? you’re gonna be on top? what if i wanted to have you bent over—”
“i’d rather die than let you see me arched over.”
“heh, woah now angel—that’s just mean. after i gave you that teeth shattering orgasm,” he says with a dramatic eye roll. you align yourself with gojo, your arms wrapping around his shoulders and for a concise moment he grows quiet. “hm. don’t really care though, you’re still hot. straddling me like this and—”
you lean forward, silencing him with a kiss because he just wouldn’t stop talking—it was cute in a way though, gojo would literally talk your ear off. he kisses back immediately, feeling you hover against his leaky tip before lowering yourself further and further down. “mhm,” you’d gasp at the current stretch. it was hard to ignore, he was big—no secret about that. due to how sopping you were, it made it easy to just sink right down. gojo’s jaw tightens as he brings a hand towards your waist, another near your ass. with a tight squeeze, he continues to fall into sinful bliss at your cunt holding him hostage. your walls hugged him tightly the more you sank down. his breath was heavy, he heaved and heaved before you’re finally all the way down.
parting away once more, he utters out a needy, “touch me.”
“ask nicely,” you whisper, starting to rock your hips swiftly in place—you were so hot, especially in his eyes. you’re so warm inside, feverish, tingly. gojo swallows thickly, a breath getting caught in his throat as his white lashes flicker towards your waist. you brush a thumb against your best friend’s lips before humming. “touch me pretty please, say that.”
“how about i tell you a joke—” he cuts off, yet moans once he feels you grind your hips in a specific rotation—so good. he’s at a loss of words before his eyebrows curl up and furrow, head throwing back in pleasure. “heh. uh, check, please! know what’s on the m-menu? me ‘n you.”
“…………………..”
“…..you’re right, i should just shut up,” he puffs out, his cheeks burning with such heat. he holds onto your hips before he swallows his pride, speaking in a cute pout whilst avoiding eye contact. “touch me pretty please.”
you smile, trading a finger down his chiseled chest—so muscular, he was perfectly sculpted.
his loved your touch, it makes him ten times harder. your fingers roam against his body and he merely folds into putty, his abs—they clench as you’re being stuffed by full of his thick inches. gojo made sure to go slow, he didn’t wanna hurt you—especially considering how big and how much of a damn packer he was. so big you almost drooled.
he was mesmerized by the way you moved, with a single pivot of your hips it didn’t take long for him to locate that spot. you moaned, feeling a surge of haziness overtake you before you lean in to kiss near the crook his neck.
“man,” he croaks, and each time he speaks—his voice gets more raspy and out of breath. “uh, keep ridin’ me like that ‘n i’m gonna die. your pussy’s fuckin’ dangerous—shit.”
again, he rambles while you’re riding him in the same constant rotation. he falls in love with the jerks, the way you grind and delve your hips even further into him.
it’s amusing to study his facial expressions though, the way his blue irises would roll back into the very depths of his cranium—his pink sheeny lips parting, even his irregular breathing patterns. he was so whiney, your cunt swallowed him whole and he starts to feel fuzzy. hot, you felt so hot inside. it merely gives him whiplash once he feels your hands trail up toward his chest. his chest, more so his pecs—abs, his nipples.
“s-sensitive there…” he pants, and with his same grip against your hips he drags you closer—back and forth, it was so slow. you’re grinding against his body and he thinks he’s feeling a certain type away. you know, that word. this entire view, seeing you top him like this—gojo was about to lose his mind, a fiery sensation pools low into his abdomen. you had him all hot and bothered, it didn’t take long before his thigh starts to bounce.
“are you?” you tease, leaning in to run your tongue against his perky nipples—oh, his reaction. it was priceless, he grips onto your hair this time, moving a few strands away from your face while you’re still riding him before he whimpers. with shaky lips, he begs for you to suck harder. you didn’t even know if he was into something like this, perhaps your best friend was a freak.
a freak in bed.
you wondered if he’d be like this if he got matched with some other random girl on tinder. being this whiney for them, but since you two were close maybe you had an exception.
“angelllll,” he drags out his words, and it’s cute. his tongue rolls a bit and beads of sweat start to race down the side of his forehead. “i’m gonna—”
suddenly, he grows quiet once his cock that was buried into your folds abruptly slips out.
he slowly looks up at you with a head tilt, and you’re staring right back up at him—he’s still panting with his hands attached to your hip. “oops,” he sheepishly laughs, trying to ignore how he was so close to shooting right inside of you. it squelched, you break away from his chest before kissing near his neck. he moans, aligning himself back against your entrance. “f-fuck that was kinda hot.”
“i can’t tell who sounds like the girl more,” you start to pant yourself, and you feel yourself coming close right with him—you briefly bite your lip before feeling such nerves sneak its way inside. his girth, it never failed to leave you speechless. with gojo, he was a bit thick but more so lanky—thin, yet he made sure to reach every crevice of your cunt. you felt him deep, the more his hold against your hips tighten—the more he’s pumping you full. you’re constantly leaning forward, cupping his face before sneaking a few kisses near the corners of his lips.
“shut up,” he rasps, and he’s close. you’re about to milk him dry—his breathing picks up and he presses his fingers right into your hips. strands of his hair runs through his face before he whines, head throwing back in pure bliss. “god, you do it so good—so good, ‘m gonna cum,” and then with pretty hooded eyes, he swallows before reaching between your legs. he runs a hand against your sopping wet cunt that was a sheer mess itself before sighing lowly, “where do you want it, angel? tell me if i should—”
“inside,” you whisper, and your voice was so close up to his ear that he could have just came from your voice and your voice alone. shivers ran through his body, your chest presses against his and he’s maneuvering quicker circles against your pussy. “f-fuck, ‘toru. ‘m gonna cum too.”
his ruffled hair was all in his face, it was cute. you’re being stuffed full—he’s so hefty you’re dizzy, approaching that release before seconds pass and you gush out. it comes out slow, a shockwave ripples out and you whimper—softly nibbling your teeth deep into the inside of his neck.
“oh f—fuckkk,” he babbles, and his voice ends up cracking, its adorable. both of his ears burn with radiating heat before he finishes, dumping a sloppy load of velvety ropes into your cunt. you literally did milk him, you bring your hips to a more slow stop—deeply grinding against him still and he slumps back. he pours so much into you he’s speechless himself, a hand hooked around your waist as you continue to swivel. “i just— i need you—shitttt.”
you stare at gojo and he’s all dumb, panting heavily. his chest heaves and tightens, loving the warmth of your plush thighs wrapping around him. “i.. i think i love you,” he abruptly says, and with his tone—it’s like in more of a question, he watches your shocked stare peer into him and he sighs. “i don’t wanna use dinder anymore, i— i just want you.”
“it’s called tinder, satoru,” you kiss near the side of his lip. “and i love you too, dummy.”
“really?” he looks at you, still smothered with a look of fatigue—he could go for more rounds but he needed a minute—plus he may or may not have a cramp in his leg. “soo when’s the wedding then?”
you deadpan and he sheepishly smiles at you, he’s still got a firm grip on your waist.
the feeling of gojo’s remains of cum just seeping down your thighs as you straddled him—still with his twitching shaft inside made you kiss your teeth a little. “i’m sure you’ll get cold feet, you’re scared of literally anything.”
“pft. girl, that’s not even remotely true. do you realize who you’re talking to?”
the arrogant gojo came back — you roll your eyes and he slyly grins, yet all the meanwhile he’s holding you close against your chest. you let him kiss you once more before you both pull away once his phone suddenly beeps.
a loud screeching notification . . you were assuming it was a text. he feels you shift a bit, turning to see what it was but pulls you closer towards him, deepening the kiss. you give up, locking your arms around him once more, preparing to start up your hips again.
oh, he tastes candied, sweet…
you moan straight into his mouth before the phone ends up beeping again and again.
consistently until it starts to get annoying, gojo grunts, departing from your honeyed lips. “who’s texting me, angel? thought i turned tinder notifications off.”
you grab his phone, it brights up from your fingertips hovering against the screen before you squint. “uh, it says . . . suguru geto?”
he repeats. “suguru ge—” and then he timorously runs a hand through his hair with a raised eyebrow. “oh. eh, what’d he say?”
you pause for a long moment before reading the message, by long—seven consecutive seconds to be exact, your lip twitching, slowly realizing as you skim through the text by this ‘suguru geto.’
“. . . he says that he had fun last night.”
“oh!”
Tumblr media
4K notes · View notes
rafeandonlyrafe · 4 months
Text
easter day
Tumblr media
words: 1.3k
warnings: 18+ only, smut, dad!rafe, mom!reader, fluffy and cute, talk of pregnancy, p in v sex
“when are they getting here?” rafe questions, hands on your hips, leaning over your shoulder to look at the counter where you're finishing frosting the sugar cookies with various pastel colors.
“uhh…” you glance at the clock. “any minute now.” you set down the piping bag as you finish the last detail and turn to look at rafe, changing your voice to a whisper. “are all the eggs hidden?”
“yup.” he nods. “and i already told harper that the small blue ones are for her brother so to let him get the easy ones. the easter bunny told me specifically.”
“smart.” you chuckle, letting rafe pull you in and press your lips together.
“i do just have one complaint.” rafe says, hands moving from your hips to grip your bum. 
“and what would that be?” you look at your husband, one eyebrow raised.
“this dress.” rafe shakes his head. “you look too good in it, you're practically begging me to put a third kid in you.”
“not until elijah is two, remember?” you remind rafe.
“he's 18 months, that's practically two!” rafe lies through his teeth, his grin turning mischievous, knowing just how big of a difference six months can make in a baby's development.
“ill tell you what…” you run your hands up rafes chest. “why don't we sneak away when my parents get here? you know they act like we don't exist anyways.”
you can't blame them, harper just turned 5 and is a handful, which is only added to by elijah. while he's an angel, he's still a toddler and will get into anything and everything if you turn your back for even a minute.
“sounds perfect.” rafe gives you another kiss as harper runs into the kitchen, elijah still distracted in the corner in his bouncer.
“mommy!” she squeals, launching herself at you. you pick her up and easily turn her so she's on your hip. “mommy, mommy.” she continues. “the easter bunny came! i saw eggs in the backyard!”
“oh, yay!” you bounce her slightly as elijah giggles, reacting to harper's excitement. rafe heads to the bouncer and lifts him out.
“and look, mama made cookies.” you show her the frosted sugar cookie eggs and baby chicks. “and i left a couple unfrosted for you to do with grandma and grandpa!”
harper lets out another squeal and wiggles excitedly. “elijah, gammy and gamps are coming over!”
rafe chuckles at her mispronunciation. it started when she was first learning to talk and their names haven't changed since, even elijah calling them their nicknames.
there's a knock at the door and harper wiggles out of your arms to run towards the front, quickly followed by you and rafe, who unabashedly checks you out as harper opens the door to your parents.
“harper!” your mom steps in, wrapping her in a big hug, completing it with pressing kisses all over her face.
“and there's my little man.” your dad takes elijah from rafes arms, whose happy to give him up, itching to get that alone time with you.
you quickly usher your parents in, showing them the unfrosted cookies and other activities to keep your kids attention. 
“rafe and i are gonna go finish their easter baskets.” in truth you've had their baskets finished for a week now, but there's no reason for them to know that.
“okay, that's fine dear.” your mom says, barely glancing to you as harper grabs a butter knife covered in pink frosting.
you grab your husband's hand, and he practically sprints up the stairs, pulling you right along with him into your bedroom.
“god, you knew this would happen didn't you?” rafe questions, hands gripping at your dress, pulling it up as he backs you up towards your bed, keeping the door slightly cracked so you can hear if anyone comes up the stairs. “you know i can't resist this dress.”
you keep your sundresses at the front of your closet, wearing them whenever you find a reason to, purely because of how rafe reacts to them.
“stop talking and hurry up.” you chastise rafe, fingers swiftly undoing the buttons of his crisp shirt until your hands can delve in and feel his muscles.
“yes, ma’am.” rafe smirks, lowering you onto the bed as his lips find yours again, fingers coming to your underwear to feel the wet spot that has started to form. his fingers swipe over the material until you’re moaning quietly, eyes shut.
“god, need to get inside you.” rafe groans, standing to undo his shorts and grab a condom from the nightstand as you take your underwear off, tossing them in the general direction of your hamper. 
you use the moment of silence to listen, seeing if you can hear anything coming from downstairs, but all seems to be calm as rafe pulls your hips to the edge of the bed, lining up his cock with your entrance.
rafe sinks in slowly with a low groan as you gasp, gripping the bed sheets. its been far too long since you’ve been able to have a moment alone like this.
“so good, mama.” rafe wraps your legs around his hips as he begins to move, thrusting in and out of you, thumb already rubbing over your clit, knowing you both need to cum and get downstairs as soon as possible.
“yeah, feels good.” you whine, covering your mouth with your palm as you let out noises, rafe always able to get the sounds out of you even when you should be quiet.
rafe moves faster, cock pushing at your walls, stretching you open for his length.
“shit.” rafe groans. “we need to convince your parents or aunt wheezie to take them for a weekend.”
“mmm, that’s exactly what we need.” you nod. you know that you’d probably end up pregnant again if you had an uninterrupted weekend with rafe, you already feel the urge to reach down and pull the condom off of him, but the thought of dealing with elijah at his current age while pregnant has your mind clearing quickly.
“or we can start sending elijah to daycare once a week.” rafe says, glad that the conversation is helping quell his orgasm somewhat, not wanting to burst inside of you too early.
“fuck, whatever it takes to get more of this.” you push at rafes stomach. he takes a step back as you flip over on the bed, toes touching the floor as you turn onto your stomach.
“god, i wanna marry you all over again.” rafe pushes quickly back insides, thrusts now speeding up as his hands grip your ass, squeezing it and watching the way it jiggles with every thrust.
you push your hand below your body to touch your clit, rubbing it in pace with rafes cock pushing inside of you, pressing your face into the mattress to drown out your noises.
“gonna cum, baby.” rafe warns, cock swelling inside of you before hes releasing with one more deep thrust, triggering your own orgasm as your body shakes.
rafe pulls out, flipping your dress back down over your ass just in case someone sneaks upstairs as he discards of the condom and redresses before heading back to you, helping you turn over to sit on the edge of the bed.
“i love you.” rafe coos, pressing kisses to the top of your head as you lean against him.
“i love you too.” you take his hand in his. “and we should get back downstairs before they get suspicious.”
“absolutely.” rafe nods, following you out the bedroom and down the stairs, leaning in to whisper in your ear when he sees everyone is still occupied with frosting cookies, a smear of orange frosting across harpers nose. “and don’t think i forgot that you aren’t wearing panties anymore.”
taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @rafeyslove @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @vogueprincess @yourenogoodforme @auryyz @mayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs @rafesgiirl @ditzyzombiesblog @chiaraanatra @tobiaslut
2K notes · View notes
queers-gambit · 10 months
Text
Two to Tango
prompt: the aftermath of Carmy's words seem to rattle him more than you.
pairing: Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto x female!reader pairing: Carmy x Peach
fandom masterlist: FX's The Bear
collection masterlist: Clingy Baby
word count: 5.4k+
note: author still does not want any messages about glorifying toxic relationships. typically, but not always, when someone calls you clingy, it's weaponized and is abusive. this fic is not meant to portray that! it’s meant to show internal agony and the journey to forgiveness - Carmy apologizes 'cause he's actually sorry!
warnings: cursing, reader folds 'cause who wouldn't for the sweet puppy that is Carmy, hurt and comfort, small angst, small fluff, we talk about Mikey a bit, author uses writing as therapy, relationship angst...? barely edited.
part one: God's Plan
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
"It's six in the Goddamn morning!" You raged at your front door, stomping up to it, "Are you dumb in the fucking head!? Who the fuck in their right mind knocks like the Goddamn cops at six in the fucking morning!?"
You whipped it open, the force causing a breeze of air to blow your bedridden hair back and highlight your exhaustion. "Hiya, sunshine," Richie beamed down at you, holding up a paper bag, offering, "donut?"
"Richie!? I know you're not fuckin' stupid, baby boy, so, what the fuck is wrong with you? It's six in the morning on my day off - do you want to give me a reason to punch you? You hate your nose that much?"
He tisked at you mockingly, "Someone's cranky this morning."
"What do you want?"
"You're not gonna invite me in for coffee? I brought us donuts! See? C'mon, Peach," He jostled the bag around with a shit-eating, closed-lip smile. "Dooonuts," he taunted.
You had to pause, count to ten in your head, then sigh through your nose. You offered kindly, "Richie? Would you like to come in for some coffee? Since you kindly brought donuts?"
He grinned, "Awwh, thanks, Peach, thats real nice of yah! Don't mind if I do!"
"Don't call me that," you snapped, leading him into your kitchen. The door shut and locked.
"Oh, someone's touchy."
"What do you fucking want?" You whined, pouring two mugs of hot coffee. "You come bangin' at my door, early ass in the mornin'. You better have a good-ass reason," you slid the mug over the counter he sat at. "Cream or sugar?"
He shook his head, fiddling with the mug for a moment before admitting as you dressed up your own coffee, "Uh, so... It's Carmy."
You paused, taking a slow sip from your mug, waiting for more that wouldn't come. So, you quietly asked, "What about Carmy?"
"He's falling apart."
"O...Kay?"
"Peach," he frowned, "you know that your relationship was the only thing that made sense to him - he's falling apart without you there."
"Okay," you nodded, taking another swallow of hot bean-water.
"That's it? Nothing else to say? Dude's losin' his fuckin' shit, Peach. Okay? Barely leaves the restaurant, h-he's all manic and shit, doesn't stop cookin', isn't gettin' a lotta sleep, and Syd said his clothes are all over the apartment - he's not keeping himself in order."
"So, he needs his mother?"
Richie glared with a clenched jaw, "Not fuckin' funny, Peach."
"I'm not laughing."
"He needs you."
"I'd argue otherwise, he's a grown fuckin' man who doesn't need to be taken care of. Look, if he was man enough to call me a desperate, clingy bitch, he's man enough to deal with the fallout of his words."
"Look, hey, hey, hey, I'm not sayin' he's not in the wrong," he waved his hands, eyes widening, "actually, the exact opposite. We all chewed his ass out when we found out what he fuckin' said, Peach. And look, I've never seen Fak that fuckin' angry."
You semi-pouted your bottom lip, "Really?"
"Fak was ready to strangle Carmy, I think," Richie sighed. "I yelled, Sugar yelled, Fak lost his shit, Syd even cornered him in the office and laid into him..."
"I thought she didn't like me," you whispered.
"She's getting to know you, but she likes you," he assured, "and it's obvious the affect you have on Carmy. We all respect that - "
"Oh, great, so everyone except the one person who needs to respect our relationship - respects it!"
Richie frowned at you, nodding in agreement before admitting, "He's a dumb fuckin' idiot, Peach, we all know that, but the dude is losing it without you."
"Sucks to suck."
"Peach," he groaned, slapping his hands to the counter with exasperation. "Don't you love him?"
"Of course I love him, but I also have this little thing called self-respect! He said some shit - shit he can't ever take back. The fuck I look like going back to him when he's the one in the wrong!? I don't hate myself that much, and despite what he says, I'm not that desperate for love."
"How is talking to the man you love - "
"Richie," you paused him, "your Cousin said a lot of hurtful shit. It's been weeks, okay? He's gonna snap outta it, realize what he's done, and right the wrongs he's committed. I don't need to speed that along in any way, shape, or form - he's a grown man. And I'm a grown woman, I don't have to fall to anyone's beck-and-call, he can figure his own shit out."
"I know - look, it's been fuckin' weeks of us dealin' with him losin' his fuckin' mind!" Richie snapped. "We tried to respect that you wanted distance and time, we really did, but he's losin' it, Peach, more than he's lost it before. Okay? I'm concerned about him, more than I was when the shit with Mikey went down..."
You sighed and leaned on your kitchen counter, wiping your fingers over your eyes to pinch the bridge of your nose after. "Okay, okay," you paused, sighing again, blinking as you looked at Richie, "so, what would you like me to do?"
He pouted dramatically, "Talk to him? Please?"
"To say... What?"
"I don't know, you guys can work that out together, but he's miserable, Peach. Just talk to him, just..." He sighed, shaking his head, "I know it's not fair to ask of you, but he's slippin' off the deep end. You're all he knows, all that makes sense to him, and with you gone..." His eyes turned red as he held back his tears, "I-I'm not sayin' he's gonna do anythin', Peach, but everythin' with Mikey's still so fresh... I just - I can't go through this again. Can't lose another Berzatto."
You frowned, understanding now why he appeared so frazzled.
"Carmy's not Mikey, Richie, okay?" You reminded him softly, reaching for his hand; leaving your extended to reach him, "And you're not gonna lose any more of us, you hear me?" You gave a squeeze, "I'll talk to him."
"Really?"
"I will," you assured softly, seeing the single tear drop from his waterline when he bowed his head and sniffled harshly. "Hey, Richie...? Do you, maybe, wanna bring some flowers to Mikey today? Think you wanna visit?"
He shrugged, "Maybe..."
"Maybe it'll be nice," you assured calmly. "It rained a few days ago, so, the ground won't be too soggy anymore, but the grass will be lush and green - hydrated and shit."
"Right," he chuckled, nodding, "yeah, okay, maybe that'll be nice, yeah, you're right."
"Maybe Carmy could use a visit, too."
"He won't go."
You nodded, "I know, but sometimes it's nice to just have the offer."
Richie agreed, downing the last of his black coffee. "All right," he cleared his throat, "let's go - you wearin' that?"
"What?"
"You gonna wear that? To go talk to Carmy?"
"It's not even seven in the morning!"
"He's at the restaurant," Richie shrugged. "Dude doesn't leave. C'mon, he needs a nap or somethin'."
You groaned, knowing he wouldn't leave unless you left with him. So, you got ready quickly while he sat at your desktop computer; playing Facebook's FarmVille - the same you left your little cousins to play when they needed distracted. He was enraptured by the adorable virtual sheep, laughing to himself as he learned the ropes of the game; and when you were ready, you had time to fill a to-go tumbler of coffee while he signed off.
When you arrived at The Beef, it was still closed for the morning prep; and inside, chaos rained in a fury of angry voices. You listened to Carmy snap at Marcus about something petty, going as far as to slap a pastry out of his hand as they argued in one another's faces with ignited passion.
"Ooookay," you moved through the kitchen and got between the two men, hands on Carmy's chest, "that's enough, Chef, hey, hey, hey, c'mon, walk away - just walk away, Carmy, don't do this. Hey, hey, don't do this, c'mon, just step off - walk away with me, please. Please, Carmy, hey, hey, step off, walk away with me, please."
"Fuck you doin' here, Peach?" He asked with red, swollen eyes. He looked sullen; pale between the angry red blotches to his skin, bags under his tired eyes, looking worn out and thinner than you remembered.
"Yeah, hey, hey, we'll talk about that, c'mon, outside, outside, outside," you directed him, sighing at the sight of the splattered pastry you were forced to step over. "I'm so sorry, Marcus," you whispered, seeing him nod and wave you off as you and Carmy pushed outside into the alley.
The door shut behind you, making Carmy snarl, "What the fuck, Peach - "
"No, I think that's better asked to you," you snapped. "The hell's wrong with you? Yellin' at Marcus like that? You know how rude it is to slap shit outta anyone's hand?"
He paced in anger, wiping a hand down his face; circling his mouth with his fingers, eyes ringed with red, hair greasy and tossed in a mess. His pants looked baggy, his shirt wrinkled, stained, and dirty with sweat marks.
"What're you doin' here?" He asked in a pant, hands going to his slender hips, head shaking as his tear-filled eyes avoided yours.
"Carmy, we need to talk."
"No shit," he breathed, scoffing after and widening his pace.
"Hey, Carmy, hey, hey," you reached for him, taking both his wrists in your grasp so he had to face you. "I need you to pause for me, please, hey," you stepped in his way when he tried to move. "Carmy, you're no good to anyone when you're like this - least of all yourself. So, I need you to talk - "
"You left," he panicked, pulling back to start pacing again. "You left - you left me. We got in a fight and you left, you fucking left. You walked away and you left me."
"Carmy, we got in more than a fight," you sighed. "You lashed out at me, then turned avoidant, and I don't linger where I'm not wanted."
"How can you think that?" He demanded, still pacing. "That you're not wanted by me? That you're not welcome, what? In my life? At my side? With me? Baby - of course, you are!"
"You didn't exactly make me feel any different," you pointed out sharply. "Carmy, can you please fucking pause for me so we can talk this out - "
"I know I fucked up," he ranted to himself, huffing and puffing as his emotion strangled him. "I know I did, I kept - I couldn't - I fucked up. I know I did. I couldn't get my head outta my ass," he listed, pacing as he panted when panic took hold of his being, "and I hurt you, and it was like I had to keep hurting you because I couldn't be alone in what I felt and I couldn't exactly figure out what the fuck I was feeling - I just needed you to hurt, too."
"Carmy," you sighed patiently.
"And I couldn't stop, I just kept going, and when I realized how bad I made it, I couldn't fucking stop - I needed y-yo-you t-to know what I felt, but I couldn't find the words. I-I hate that I did that, I-I fucking hurt you and I made this so much worse than it ever had t-to be, and I fucking know, Peach, okay? I know you're not clingy, you were just loving me. Y-You were loving me, you were using your own love languages, and I felt y-you so fuckin' close to me, and freaked out - I just - I just don't know why. I just - I panicked, I couldn't stop whatever I felt, and I'm so sorry," he breathed, shaking his head, wiping his cheeks as the tears started. "I-I-I'm so sorry, Peach, I couldn't control myself and I-I hate that I hurt you, and I know I don't deserve your understanding, but I just - I couldn't stop - "
"Carmy," you stepped directly in his footpath; needing to seize hold of his swollen biceps to catch his movements as he all but barreled right into you, "I need you to breathe."
"Nah, I'm okay - "
"No, you're not," you spoke sternly, shaking your head. "Baby," you eased your tone to a softer tone, seeing a glimmer of hope spark in his baby blues, "I need you to take a breath and remain in the present with me, okay? Just stand here with me," you watched as he blinked a couple of times; reaching out to hold your waist tentatively. "And stay in the present, okay? Stay here with me."
"I'm so sorry, Peach," he whispered, stepping closer so he could feel your breasts against his chest; caging you with his arms. "I'm so fuckin' sorry, I didn't - I didn't know what the fuck I was even trying to fight with you about. You're not clingy - you're not any of the things I said, I didn't mean it - any of it."
"Calling me desperate?"
"I didn't mean any of it."
"A bitch?"
"Please," he whispered, bringing you in closer so he could rest his forehead on yours. "Don't repeat it, I know what I said, and I'm so fucking sorry for all of it. I know I don't deserve your forgiveness, but I'm goin' crazy without yah, Peach. I need my best girl, and I don't deserve you, but I fuckin' need you." He sniffled, pulling back to caress your cheek, whispering, "I need you, Peach, you're the only thing that I know - the only thing I can understand, that makes sense to me. I think I just felt stressed and overwhelmed, I wasn't sure what to do - I couldn't find the words, I'm so sorry."
You nodded slowly, "I think we can work through this."
"I don't deserve you."
"Maybe not, but you have me anyway," you whispered, bringing his forehead to your own again. "But you can't do this again, taking anger out on me when I haven't done anything."
"Never again," he sighed, now nestling into your neck for comfort; arms tightening so you were the closest you could be with your head bent to keep his head caressed with yours.
"I don't think we can say 'never', but we can make an effort to leave work stress at work, right?" You whispered softly, letting one around coil around him to keep him close; the other caressing his jaw. "You don't get to treat me like that," you reminded him, "because I'm on your side, Carmy, I'm not the enemy."
"I know," he squeezed you tight.
"And the people doing their jobs are not the enemy," you smirked.
"I know," he chuckled lightly. "I owe Marcus an apology..."
"I'm sure you owe it to the others, too," you mused, holding his cheek as you turned your head to kiss his forehead. "Promise me we're done with that reactive bullshit. It doesn't make navigating a relationship easier on us."
"We're done, we're so fuckin' done with that shit," he whispered, deflating into your embrace as you held him close. "I'm so sorry, baby. I really am."
"I know," you comforted softly. "I forgive you."
"I don't deserve it."
"Hey, hey, this self-deprecating stunt has to end, too. We've gotta go forward with at least some confidence if we're gonna figure this out together."
He nodded, pulling back but keeping hold of your waist. "I am confident about this... About you - about us."
"Hmm?" You gently pushed a few stray curls from his forehead.
"Move in with me - officially."
Your face contorted in mild disappointment, "Oh, Carmen - "
"No, no," he rushed, sighing as his hand flattened on your jaw and cheek again, "just listen to me. I've wanted to ask you for a long time, okay? I've wanted this for - like - fucking years. Hear me? I just," he sighed, "I wasn't sure how to ask. I want this for us, I want us to be together, okay? Officially. I-I want us living together, Peach, okay? I want to come home and just - I want you there. I want all of you," he frowned, tears swelling again, "and all your shoes in the foyer, hair in the shower drain, perfume on the counter, and every-single-way you know how to love me. I was wrong to say you were clingy - and everything else I said. Baby, the last couple weeks, I've felt so fucking empty, so lonely and - just - cold. I've been cold without you. I need you, Peach, I need you with me, and I need you to be exactly you - no holding back. Because you're exactly who I need to love me, I'm so sorry I fucked that up before."
"Carmy."
He frowned, "I'm sorry."
"I know," you smirked, "and I forgive you. But you know it's gonna take more than a few pretty words and some tears, right?"
He nodded, "Anything to make this work again."
You sighed in patience, "Go say your apologies to the others, we've got t'make a stop before going back to yours - and you're going to take a fucking nap."
"I'm fine - "
"Look me in my eye and try to tell me in the past 72 hours, you've had decent, restful sleep."
He frowned, opening his mouth a few times but then sighing. "You know I can't," he whispered.
"Exactly why we're going back to yours."
Carmy paused, brows furrowing as if a thread pulled them together. He asked softly, "Is that a no to us... Living together? Is that why you're calling it 'my' place?"
You offered him a look of patience and leaned in to peck his lips for a few prolonged seconds, promising, "There's your apartment, there's my apartment, and then there's gonna be our apartment. Somewhere that's just ours, 100% us." His mouth stretched in a grin, so you swiftly cut him off, "But you have to ask me again when you've got restful sleep under your belt. I want you clear headed when you make this kinda decision."
"Yes, ma'am," he agreed. "Where're we goin' before?"
You swallowed nervously, telling him softly, "You absolutely do not have to go with us, but I think Richie could use a visit out to Mikey's grave. I said I'd take him with some flowers, but you do not have to get out to go with us - not if you're not ready."
He blinked a few times, rolling his lips between his teeth as his eyes dropped from yours. You were about to coo his name and assure him again, when he nodded at you and tried to half-smile. "Okay," he breathed.
"Okay?"
"Mhm. I'll, uh... M-Maybe I can, just, hang back in the car."
"Sure, baby, whatever you're comfortable with," you whispered, leaning in to peck his forehead. "You good?"
"I will be."
"Mhm," you hummed, caressing his cheek again before pushing your hand into his curls. "Now, let's get a move on - I want you to march in there, say you're sorry to your Chefs, and then we'll leave."
"Yes, ma'am," Carmy whispered, leaning in to kiss you - but you pulled back.
"Aht," you halted him with a teasing finger to his lips, "after we've got everything worked out, then you can kiss me."
"You got t'kiss me," he mumbled against your finger; making you hum as you fought off a stretching smile, and lower your hand.
"Fair point - just one then - "
He cut you off by, indeed, pressing a single kiss to your lips, but not pulling back. His hand raised to hold the back of your head, your lips spreading in a grin against his; finding rhythm to move together before pausing to press in prolonged passion.
When he pulled back, you both paused to smile, and when you tried to peck his lips again, he pulled back, teasing, "Aht, just the one."
"Oh, fuck you," you laughed lightly, letting him take your hand before leading you back into the kitchen. The other Chefs lingered, sparing you and Carmy a few nervous glances, making you whisper in his ear as you squeezed his hand, "Go ahead, baby, get it done."
He nodded and called the kitchen to attention, clearing his throat, and beginning to make his apologies. He singled out Marcus, then Sydney, Richie, and Sugar; the kitchen staff all accepting his words and insisting he could take the day off - even the next few days if he wanted! You had to usher him to grab his things a few times, nudging him in reminder and verbally pushing him back into action. That boy's ADHD would truly be the death of him.
"So?" Richie smirked at you as Marcus handed you a packaged box of pastries.
"We're talking it out."
He chuckled, "Good. Get him outta here, Peach, dude needs to breathe."
"I got it," you swatted him away as Carmy exited the office. "But we've got somewhere to be first, right?"
He paused, then nodded and asked in a mutter, "He said okay?"
"He's got time to decide what he wants to do, but he knows we're going. C'mon, get your coat."
Richie met you at the front of the restaurant and with a parting wink to Sugar, you took Carmy's hand, tangled your fingers together, and left to venture to your parked car. Carmy got in the front, Richie in the back, and after a stop at a corner bodega to grab three bouquets of flowers, you drove to the cemetery. Carmy was silent, no music played, and Richie's leg bounced in anxious tension; making small conversation with you about your job in an effort to distract himself.
When you arrived, you pulled up on the access road that you knew was closest to Mikey's grave. Richie spared a glare between you and Carmy before muttering that he needed a cigarette and got out of the car to leave you alone. "Baby?" You whispered, reaching for his hand. "Hey, look, if you don't want to go with us, it's okay. We won't be long... But maybe you want to sign this," you showed him the small, blank name card left in the flowers.
"Why?" He whispered.
You shrugged, "So he knows they're from you."
"Peach," he sighed, meeting your eyes.
"Baby, I know it's silly, I know it's easier to ignore it all. But I'd like to believe it's just a nice gesture for our own closure - it's a signed gift from us, to them... And maybe it's nice to pretend that wherever they are, they know what we've left for them."
Carmy nodded slowly, "I-I don't think... I don't think I can go..."
"It's okay, baby," you whispered.
"But," he sniffled, opening his hand to you, "I'll sign it, if you'll leave it for me?"
"Of course," you rushed, opening your purse to producing a pen for him. The clank card rest on the center console of your car, pausing, swallowing nervously, then scribbling his name as he cleared his throat. He offered you the pen, waited until it was put away, then offered the flowers. "Hang tight, we won't be too long," you whispered, leaning in to rest your forehead. "You okay?"
He nodded, pecking your forehead before letting you get out of the car. You handed Richie his own flowers with a signed card, holding your own and Carmy's; linking arms with Rich to venture up the small grass hill and moved about halfway down the cemetery plot line. When you came to his stone, you understood this was what Rich needed more than you, so, you knelt and laid the two bouquets down before starting to quickly groom the area around his tombstone.
You told him, "I'm sorry it's not much, but I'll be back later for a picnic and a chat. I brought you flowers from me a-and from Carmy. He's in the car, but he's here, Mikey... Give him time," you whispered, brushing dirt from the stone before standing. "Take your time," you told Richie softly, seeing the tears gather in his eyes.
"Thanks, Peach," he whispered, offering you a tight hug. When you pulled back and started to walk away, Richie lowered himself to kneel and lay his own flowers down; hearing him tell Mikey, "Don't gotta worry 'bout us, Mike-Man, Peach is the glue that keeps us together. Shit, she even got Carmy out here..."
You made it back to the car and got in, smiling at Carmy - but dropping it the instant you saw tears in his eyes. "Talk to me," you whispered, reaching for a wet wipe in your glovebox to clean your hands after plucking the grass and brushing off dirt from the grave.
"Why can't I get out?"
You only stared at him for a long moment, unsure what to say.
"I'm here... I'm finally here... Why can't I get out?"
"You're not ready," you nodded, tossing the wipe aside to a plastic bag. "It's okay, Carmy, it's okay to not be ready yet. We can come back when you are," you reached for his hand.
"I think this added to my frustration," he admitted. "I couldn't... I didn't go to the funeral, haven't been here since he was... You know."
"Laid to rest."
"Yeah," he sighed. "Fuck's wrong with me?"
"You're grieving," you relented, nuzzling closer so your head rested on his shoulder. "It's not linear, Carmy, baby, just let yourself feel. When you try to repress your emotions, you lash out inappropriately."
"I know," he whispered, "'M sorry."
"It's not your fault," you promised, the two of you quietly bowing your heads together. You remained as such until Richie got back in the car, and from there, it was quiet as everyone stewed in their own emotion. You dropped Rich back at work before promising to call him later and driving away; heading for Carmy's apartment in the soothing silence, his hand locked in yours.
When you arrived at his apartment, you froze upon seeing the interior's state. "Oh, Carmy, no," you whispered, frowning deeply.
"Looks worse than it is," he deflected. You only hummed and let him lead you to the bedroom; watching him strip and prepare for bed before joining you on the mattress. He crashed almost immediately, sighing in relief as he pecked over your shoulder and collarbone, muttering, "'M so glad you're back. 'M so sorry, Peach."
"I know you are, and I forgive you," you told him softly, carding a manicured hand through his hair. "Just get some rest, baby."
He was asleep nearly instantly. He deflated on top of you, deeply resting enough to not notice you slip out from under him. You cleaned his entire apartment; doing laundry, cleaning, scrubbing, replacing necessities he deemed himself too lazy to pay attention to. You did dishes, cleaned out his fridge, and as you mopped up the floors, the sun set and Carmy emerged from the bedroom.
"Baby?" He mumbled in earnest confusion, sighing in relief when he saw you.
"What? Afraid I disappeared on you?" You teased with a small grin.
"For sure," he mumbled, wiping sleep from his eyes; making your amusement dim when you realized the nerve it struck. "The hell you doin'?"
"You didn't seriously think I could rest knowing this monster of a clean-up job lingered out here, did you?"
"I don't want you t'clean after me."
"Well, too late," you smirked. "You good now?"
"I feel better, yeah."
"Good."
"And I made up my mind."
"Hmm? About what?"
"I'm gonna take some time off work," he nodded, "and focus on us. Get us in a new crib, it'll be nice."
"Think you can handle that?"
He nodded, "I'll have to, you're the most important thing in my life, I can't lose you. So, if I gotta take time off, that's the least of my worries. I'm only here for us, for you."
You smiled at him, setting the mop aside to wrap him in your arms. "I like the sound of that, us making a home together - being able to decorate a new home. But don't let me overdo it, okay? I get all excited and kinda bulldoze my way through projects. I don't want you t'find real reason t'resent me."
"Nah, that ain't possible," he promised quietly.
True to his word, Carmy took three solid weeks off; agreeing to a fourth week as a contact-only consultant. You and he slept in most days, looking at apartments, and not once did he even mention work. He was diligent in his attention, focused on you and you alone; putting in overtime to rebuild that what was broke by focusing on shared interests again. You found a place you loved ready for what was basically immediate move-in, taking time to pack your respected places and prepare for the official start of your cohabitating relationship.
You didn't forget what he said, being reserved in your displays of love. Yet Carmy was different; he was totally clingy the moment you returned to his life. He feared letting you go meant you'd disappear again, feared you'd run away again. He held your hand at every possible opportunity, got you a fresh bouquet of weekly flowers, ran all his errands with you; never went to bed without you, cooked all meals with you in the kitchen - perched up on a counter. Most showers you took together, and almost every night was spent cuddling on the couch or in bed with either a book being shared between you or a new show playing on the mounted flatscreen TV.
Carmy clung because he thought if he showed you acts of his love, it'd allow comfort towards your loving behavior to flourish again - and he was right. It took a little bit of time, but Carmy clung tighter and tighter; ensuring you started to reciprocate before ever easing up in the intensity of his affectionate displays. He didn't want to overwhelm you, but knew you needed the reassurance.
You were cautious, you were apprehensive; tiptoeing around Carmy even when living together before warming back up to him. You didn't need to repeat the words he hurled at you all those weeks ago, not wanting to dredge up repressed feelings, but never letting him forget what he said. Your actions spoke enough, skittish around his affection; something Carmy took note of and despised himself for. He made up for it, of course he did, it was Carmy and he hated tension and conflict in his closest circles of life. Yet it wasn't so easy for you two to move forward, they weren't just words to you.
They were direct insults to you as a person; to you and how you loved others. Carmy had seen your deepest fear and used it as a defense against you - wanting you to hurt the way he was, too. He understood this wasn't acceptable, knowing the next time he resorted to such despicable actions, you'd simply walk away; never dealing with disrespect, so, he needed to be acutely aware of his words.
You would never allow yourself to be someone else's doormat, but part of being an adult is understanding that people were allowed to make mistakes - it's part of being fucking human. How terrible you'd feel if someone held your own mistakes against you, because the truth was, you weren't perfect either.
Part of being in a(n adult) relationship is understanding when someone apologized, it was best to accept and move on because nothing was ever solved by dragging turmoil out. This didn't mean forget what happened, forget whatever emotion was evoked - but to do your part to repair what was broken; no matter who was at fault, it always took Two to Tango.
And in this song and dance, you were ready to sweep around the dance floor if only with Carmy. Because that's what a relationship was; a conscious effort by both partners to work as one, to dance in-sync; owning the art together, as equal partners.
Tumblr media
requesting rules and masterlist
The Bear masterlist
Clingy Baby collection masterlist
4K notes · View notes
sebscore · 6 months
Text
EXCUSE ME
Tumblr media
pairings: lewis hamilton x driver!reader
warnings: LEWIS GOING TO FERRARI !!!!!! also there is swearing in this.
author's note: i have finally risen from the death. gzd is back, baby!
masterlist
• • • • • • •
The knocking on his apartment door confused Lewis, not expecting anyone that day. He walked over to the front, and looked through the peephole, frowning at the sight of his younger colleague.
He opened the door. ''Y/N? Hey, how are yo-''
The young woman didn't spare him a glance, walking right past him. ''You are going to fucking Ferrari?!'' She exclaimed, her eyes wide.
Lewis stood there, momentarily stunned, as Y/N breezed past him into his home. He quickly closed the door, while shushing her. ''How do you know about that? How did you even get into the building? I didn't buzz you in.''
''Nico's daughter did, but that's not the point.'' She brushed his latter question off.
''Y/N, she's six.'' He stated, hoping his fellow driver was joking.
''Don't switch topics! You're going to Ferrari, it's actually true?'' She continued probing, absolutely in disbelief about the news she had received.
The man sighed, glancing around as if someone else was there that would be able to hear them. ''Yeah, in 2025.'' Lewis confirmed.
''Oh my fucking God…'' Y/N slowly sank down on his couch, in shock at the news of him leaving Mercedes the following season. ''Lewis, this is huge.''
He carefully nodded. ''How do you know this? I've barely told anyone, not even Toto knows.'' There had been a permanent frown on his face the moment she knocked on his door.
She smirked. ''Sorry, my sources stay with me.''
Lewis narrowed his eyes at her. ''I won't tell anyone. I'm excellent at keeping secrets.'' The Brit grinned.
''Yeah, clearly.'' Y/N teasingly scoffed, receiving a light push from the World Champion. ''But, dude, this is massive!''
The World Champion simply chuckled at her response, loving the dramatics.
''Lewis, this is like Zayn leaving One Direction! Like when this news drops, everyone will remember where they were on the day that Lewis 'The Great' Hamilton joined Ferrari!'' Lewis just watched on as he let the woman deliver her monologue, enjoying himself.
''Does Nico know?'' She asked him, the face of the German suddenly popping into her mind.
He shook his head, laughing in confusion. ''No, why would he?''
She shrugged her shoulders. ''To rub it in his face, I don't know.''
Lewis chuckled, feeling a tension that always resurfaced whenever his former best friend's name was brought up. ''You're a funny girl.''
She leaned back on the couch, crossing her arms, still wearing that playful smirk. "Oh, come on! Picture this: you strolling into the Ferrari hospitality, shades on, and casually waving at Nico like, 'Hey mate, look where I landed.' That would be fucking epic.''
The Brit arched an eyebrow. ''I doubt he cares that much.''
Y/N's jaw dropped, exaggerating her response. ''Lewis, it's Britney we're talking about. The biggest yapper of all time. Of course he cares.''
Lewis burst into laughter at the ''yapping'' comment, unable to resist her infectious enthusiasm. ''Does Nico know you talk about him like this?''
She shot him a sly look. ''Maybe, maybe not. But I can just imagine all the articles already. Oh! Imagine he takes your Merc seat! Anything is possible at this point!''
He shook his head, but was still smiling. ''You're on the internet too much.''
''Okay, boomer, and you aren't on the internet enough.'' Y/N retorted.
Lewis raised an eyebrow, feigning offence. "Boomer? Seriously? I'm not that old.'' He gasped.
"Well, you're old in internet years, Lewis.'' She smiled, innocently.
''You're one insult away from being thrown out of my house.''
Tumblr media
''Hey, Lewis.'' 
''Hey, Pierre. How are you doing?'' He greeted the younger man on the phone. 
Lewis could hear him scratch his voice. ''So, Ferrari, huh?'' Pierre smirked. 
''Not you too!'' The Brit exclaimed, sighing loudly, much to the Frenchman's amusement. ''Where did you get this from?'' He asked. 
Pierre snickered. ''I can't tell you that.'' 
''It was Y/N, wasn't it?'' 
''Yeah…'' 
Tumblr media
1K notes · View notes
eddiesxangel · 7 months
Text
Fool Me Once | Eddie Munson x Reader
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Anonymous Asked: Eddie being your first everything and first boyfriend and reader is like kinda awkward or something. Then Eddie gets really drunk and gets home to reader and starts yelling at her saying like “You’re only dating me because you don’t want to be a sad loser virgin.” and she gets really sad because she genuinely loves him so much and she starts thinking that he doesn’t love her at all… Then maybe the day after he can’t find reader anywhere and maybe she’s like with robin just crying her eyes out.
AN: IDK IDK it’s my first angsty thing I’ve done hope it’s ok 🫣
Cw: angst, hurt no comfort. Small bitty smut. Use of pet names, one use of reference to reader as “my girl”
Tumblr media
“I love you, god, I love you” Eddie slowly pumped his swollen cock in and out of you.
You’ve never felt this wave of pleasure before; no wonder everyone was so hyped about sex.
“Fuck you’re so tight.”
“Baby, please.” You didn’t know what you were asking for, but the feeling in your lower stomach was starting to build more and more and more until! Euphoria. Euphoria fuelled your body. The wave of pleasure that Eddie just granted you felt indebted to him.
“I love you,” you sigh as your body melts into your boyfriend.
You’ve been with him for almost six months and finally felt ready to give himself to him. You hadn’t slept with anyone until now, and you were so happy you waited. You never felt so close, so in love, so unbelievably happy in this moment. Life was amazing; nothing could ever break this feeling you have.
Tumblr media
Ring ring ring
You were abruptly awakened by the sound of your phone ringing. You were fast asleep, and now feeling disoriented, you looked at the clock. It was already 3:38am. You wondered who could be calling you at this late hour. Maybe it was an emergency? Your heart racing, you rushed over to the phone in a state of panic.
"Hello?"
"You little slut"
"Eddie?"
"Who else would it be? Are you expecting a booty call? another guy you want to fuck?"
"I don't understand? What's wrong."
“What's wrong? I'll tell ya what's wrong! You’re only with me, so you’re not some loser virgin, that’s what! Do you think all the guys will want you to know that your cherry is popped? Well, guess what, honey? Now you're just a sad little whore.” He slurred.
“Wha-“
“You think you’re hot shit now? Getting with the freak of Hawkins? Gonna brag about how you fucked the freak?”
“Eddie, what are you talking about?” your voice wobbled.
He was obviously drunk out of his mind, but as they all say, drunk words are a sober man’s thoughts.
“I know how this is going to go… well, not if I beat you to it.”
“I don't understand?”
“I don't understand?” He mocked you in a high-pitched voice. “I’ll tell you what I’m talking about!” He yelled, and you cowered. He didn’t care. His voice got louder and louder. “You were a sad loooooser virgin before me! And now you’re just a sad loser who fucked the freak,” he laughed. He actually laughed.
"Eddie-"
“So we are don-”
You hung up the phone before he could finish his sentence.
You couldn't believe this was happening? You gave Eddie everything. You thought he was your everything up until this point. You slept with Eddie for the first time a week ago. Things were good, great, even. Until he went to the hideout tonight without you.
You stayed up the rest of the night because you were in tears about what Eddie said. None of this makes any sense? You always loved Eddie, and you thought he loved you back? How could he be so cruel?
You were woken up from your daze by a knock on your apartment door. You stumbled out of your room, still in your sleep shirt, with puffy eyes from crying all night. Robin was here to pick you up for work.
"Good Mor-" Her smile dropped along with the cup of coffee she was handing you as she saw your appearance. "Oh my god! What happened?" she rushed inside to wrap her arms around you.
"Eddie. He-" You could hardly get the words out. You just crumpled into a ball on the floor and sobbed pathetically in front of Robin.
"I'm going to kill that son of a bitch" She let you cry into her on the floor. "Come on, you need to get out of here. Get changed. We are calling in sick, and we can return to my place."
Tumblr media
Eddie woke up the morning after with a terrible hangover. It was already 12:35pm, and he couldn't remember how he got home. He suddenly felt an intense wave of nausea, which prompted him to hurry to the bathroom, where he vomited uncontrollably.
After the fifth shot, things in his memory become a little hazy. He was pretty hammered by then, but he still kept drinking with the boys. He vaguely remembered Jason being at the bar and making some leud comment about you, but other than that. Nothing.
He stumbled over to his answering machine to find it empty. That's weird? You always call him before your shift, and at least try to catch him on your lunch break. Today was Wednesday, right? You always work the morning shifts today.
Eddie tried calling your number, but he had no luck, so he tried calling your work, and when they said you called in sick, he got worried. So he tried your number again, and it still went to voice mail. Maybe you were sleeping? He tried calling back to see if Robin might know more. But when your annoyed coworker picked up the phone to tell him Robin also called in sick, he knew something was up.
Eddie rushed to his phone book to find Robin's number and called it. he waited for four rings until...
"Hello?"
"Hey! Rob it's Eddie, have you-"
"We are not speaking to you."
"We? Who's we?"
But it was too late. All he heard was the sound of the dial tone.
He tried again, no answer this time. He tried once more before getting pissed and decided to just go over to her place because what the fuck?
When Eddie got to Robin's, he pounded on the door like the pounding going on in his head.
"Robin! Open the door, please."
The door finally swung open to a very angry-looking Robin standing before him.
"Who the fuck do you think you are, Munson?!" She stepped outside and closed the door behind her so he couldn't come in.
"Robin, I'm extremely hungover and do not have the patience for your riddles. Do you know where my girl is or not? I'm worried sick."
"Oh, you can relax now since she is not your girl anymore, buddy." she poked his chest roughly. "you made that abundantly clear last night.
"Last night? I don't remember a thing from last night!"
"Well, think harder because she has been in there sobbing her eyes out from your little phone call."
"Phone call? What pho-" Then it all came rushing back to Eddie. It hit him like a Mack Truck.
"Yo Munson, where is that little whore of yours? Is she usually dangling off your arm like your little pet?" Jason snorted. "I bet she's off sucking another guy's cock; realized what a loser you are."
Jason didn't say much more to antagonize Eddie and get in his head, especially with the amount of alcohol he had consumed.
How could he be so stupid?
"Robin, oh my god, I fucked up. I fucked up big. Let me apologize."
"No. not now." She's a mess, as you can imagine-"
Robin was interrupted by the creek of the front door opening.
There you stood, looking as small as ever. Your eyes are still puffy, and your hair is a mess in your pyjamas at 1:30 in the afternoon.
"Baby, I-"
"Don't!" you cut him off, and Robin leaves to give you two spaces. "Don't you dare come here and think you can just take back what you said to me!" You had done a lot of crying; your anger was showing through.
"You don't understand, Jason was-"
"Jason?! What the fuck does Jason have to do with this? You hurt me, Eddie! I gave you everything! And then you throw it back in my face, accusing me of sleeping around? Are you insane? I've been in love with you for the last year and give myself to you, and you just throw that all away because of Jason Fucking Carver?"
"Baby, please, I'm so sorry; I'll do anything!"
"You've done enough." You turn and slam the door. That's it. You were done. Your heart felt so heavy… like it was just smashed into a million pieces. You were so close to caving when you saw the look of sorrow in those puppy dog eyes. But he had hurt you so bad you couldn’t believe he felt an ounce of pain he had inflicted upon you.
You and Eddie were officially done.
Tumblr media
You have been radio silent. You were held up in your room, and you refused to do anything other than go to work.
Eddie called you excessively. It was every day, multiple times a day. His messages made your heartache as you played them back. You could hear in his voice how broken he was. He had fucked up so bad you didn’t know if you should give him another chance. For two weeks, you refused to answer your phone. You were so sick of it ringing you eventually took it off the line.
Eddie did everything he could think of to try and win you back. He sent you flowers to your work every single shift. He called, wrote love letters, and just needed you to speak to him. He was a desperate mess without you. Eddie’s heart, like not, was ripped into shreds, and it was all his fault.
You’ve been in his life since high school since he met you in hellfire freshman year. Then, once you finally confessed your feelings for one another, he couldn’t believe his luck. You said you wanted to be with him, that you wanted him to be the only one you give yourself to. He never thought that he would be so lucky... And here he was, shooting himself in the foot. He even tried to go to your apartment a few times. But you would never answer the door. He would leave a note each time he showed up unannounced. It would say how sorry he was and how much he loved you, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to believe him.
The slurred words repeatedly played in your head, and you couldn’t make it stop. No matter how much he apologized, nothing he could say could make you forget. Your chest felt like it had a fifty-pound weight sitting right on your heart. Your eyes were permanently swollen from the continuous crying you couldn’t seem to stop. He had stolen your heart and then stomped on it until it seized to beat.
The first month after the breakup was rough, but avoiding Eddie seemed to be easy enough. He eventually got the message by month two and stopped trying altogether.
As time went on, you slowly started to heal. Eventually, your constant thoughts about Eddie subsided. Eventually, they stopped. You never thought you would get over the hurt, but the distance helped. You were getting on your merry way by month three. Finally, feeling like yourself again, eating regularly, sleeping regularly. You hadn’t heard or seen him, and you were finally freed from the prison sentence that was Eddie Munson.
Time spent with your friends and family was exactly what you needed. Even though Robin saw Eddie regularly, she never forgave him for what he did to you. Their friendship was strained, which strained his friendship with Steve as well as Nancy. They wanted to take his side, but once they heard what he had said to you, they couldn’t simply look the other way. So you would hang out with them when Eddie wasn’t there and vice versa. They made sure you never had to encounter one another for the time being. However, it was getting more and more difficult to have two separate schedules to appease you both.
You were to go to Steve’s for dinner with everyone, pizza and movie night. When you arrived, everyone was tense. Lines got crossed, miscommunication ensued, and as you walked through to the kitchen, he was sitting at the kitchen table with a glass of water in his hand, almost slipping from his grip as his Bambi eyes widened at the sight of you.
“Oh shit!” You hear Steve curse when he realizes the mistake that has been made.
“I’m going to go.” You turn and sprint to the door.
“Not wait!l You can hear Eddie shuffle off the chair behind you, but you refuse to look back.
“Please! Wait!”
Threatening tears sting your eyes, and you rush out the front door.
“Sweetheart, wait.” You feel his hand hook your elbow as your body is jerked in the opposite direction in which you’re running.
“What!” You yell, but then you see his eyes. You really look at him for the first time in three months. He had bags under his eyes, and the dark circles extenuated the deep chocolate of his eyes.
“I-I uh,” he lets out a deep breath, “I wanted to say I’m sorry I’m so sorry. I was so god damn stupid, so so stupid, the dumbest guy on the planet. I can’t believe I fucked this up so badly; I love you. I love you so much. I can’t do this anymore without you, baby. Please.” He was on his knees, begging, literally on his knees, grovelling.
“Eddie, get up.”
“No, I don’t deserve it.” He was so pathetic, but he didn’t care. “I love you, please, just please. I need you in my life.”
“I don’t know Eddie…”
“So that’s not a no?!” He popped up like an excited little bunny, the silver oh hope he needed to get by.
“Eddie…” you sigh.
“No, no, you said maybe! You don’t know. You haven’t decided. Please, baby, I love you.”
“This is too hard.” Your lip wobbles as you try walking away again, but he interlocks your hand with his.
“Please, can I at least just hold you?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” You let your hand slip from his grip, and he unwillingly let go.
Eddie felt you slipping through his fingers, literally. The hope he had moments ago was gone.
“I’m sorry”
“So am I…” without another look back, you walked away.
2K notes · View notes
messylustt · 1 year
Text
౨ৎ ‧˚
𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨 (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥) — 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐮𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐧
miguel o’hara x fem!reader. 3.6k words
fic masterlist previous part pt six next part
Tumblr media
mentions of injury; miguel be fantasising bout you guys; miguel makes you say spanish sentences that you don’t know the meaning of (i don’t think this is a warning but oh well); please also forgive if there’s any grammar/spelling mistakes (I’m tired af) — after the incident you wake up at HQ, with a note saying your hired status. with confusion you go to speak to miguel. along the way there and back you get your friends acting suspicious. miguel finally begins to accept that he wants to keep you close.
Tumblr media
Your eyes slowly blink open, bright light invading your vision. At first you just lie there, no thoughts really occupying your brain.
As you go to sit up, having realised that you're lying on a bed, a hand suddenly rests on your shoulder. You turn to see Hobie. "Careful there, mate, wouldn't want ya knocking out again."
"What..." You drift off, brows furrowing as you rub your temples. "Knocked out...oh." Thoughts, or more so memories, begin to flood your brain. The different universe. Miles. The masked men. The running...and then...Miguel. You remember seeing Miguel, he had helped you, asking you to stay quiet.
You remember the instant feeling of relief when he had spoken, and then the droopy feeling of your exhausted body.
You go to swing your legs off the bed, as you gaze around the medical room. But Hobie keeps his hand on your shoulder. "You've gone through some stuff over the past couple days, take it easy."
"I'm alright...thank you." You nod, giving him a small smile. "Am I back at HQ?" Then you further mutter. "I thought he'd send me home."
"Yeah, me too...but maybe your act of defiance changed his mind." Hobie chuckles.
You go to shake my head. "I didn't mean t-"
"Mean to go, yeah don't worry we knew not long after you disappeared." Hobie interrupts.
You nod, but then your brows begin to furrow. "Wait, how did you know?"
"Miguel actually found out. He got pissed you left a day early. Thanks for that, by the way." Hobie nudges your shoulder gently.
You softly chuckle, though your thoughtful expression stays. "How'd he found out? I could've just gone home. I planned to just go home."
"I think he went to your universe." Hobie says, a sly grin forming.
You stare at him. "Why? To tell me I should have worked that day?"
Hobie shrugs. "Maybe."
You shift your body, so that you're somewhat facing him more. "What aren't you telling me?"
"Hm?" Hobie hums, acting innocent.
"Hobie don't have that expression if you're gonna stay silent." You wave your finger in front of his face.
Hobie stands, putting his hands in his pockets. "I don't know what you're talking about, y/n."
"Hobie."
But he's already walking out he door. "Oh." He pokes his head back in. "There's some lunch on that table there. Be grateful I didn't eat it."
;;
You stare at the note in your hand. It read 'You're not fired as of Tuesday'.
"Peter, hey. Have you seen Miguel?" You ask as Peter nears you, your hand now scrunching around the note. Another god forsaken note.
"Y/n, hey. Glad to see you look less pale." Peter smiles, but you're persistent.
"Apparently I'm not fired?"
"You got your job back, nice." Peter at first doesn't notice your blatant narrowed gaze. But when he does, his smile turns to a frown of confusion. "You don't seem happy about that."
"I'm confused. He isn’t one to mess with people…right?"
Peter tilts his head to the side. "Eh, part of me wouldn’t be surprised if he did." He mutters.
"I mean, not even a day ago he was wanting me gone. Not that much has happened to change his mind." You say.
"Actually a lot has happened."
"Yeah, but that stuff shouldn't change his decision about me working here."
Peter shrugs. "Maybe it did."
"Your elaboration there is great, Peter, thanks." Your sarcasm is clear.
Peter smiles, fixing the spider beanie on Mayday's head, as she babbles on about something. "Go talk to him. Most of the time I can't read him, so I wouldn't have a clue."
"That's why I'm trying to find him." You say, to which Peter answers with "I think I saw him heading to the top floor."
And so you make your way to the stairs to heaven (hell). You had just walked down them in an effort to find Miguel, now you were walking up them...in an effort to find Miguel. This fact only seemed make you even more annoyed with him.
Great, you got your job back, but at this point you needed to know why. You needed to know what made him change his mind that quickly. Nothing else ever has. Miguel has always been one to make final decisions, with not much there to sway him.
You think back to Miguel’s reasoning for his initial firing, as you walk up the steps. It was because of the attack. So why would he re-hire you because of another one? Or more so because of the same masked men who had attacked. Were they even the reason?
Does Miguel think you know something, and is wanting you back to tell him? No—you think to yourself. He wouldn’t re-hire you for that simple reason.
When you reach the top, your gaze gets caught up in a decision of what direction to take. None of his offices were up here. The only place you can think that Miguel would go is his room.
But you pause in front of his door. Did you really want to go in there? He’s clearly not working if is in there. God, but you had too many unanswered questions, so you knock.
It’s silent for a moment, besides your breathing and the distant chatter of spider-people. You go to knock again, but the door creaks open. It’s darker inside, the dim lighting reminding you of one of his past requests. You can remember the feel of his broad shoulders when giving him that massage. The small groans he would let slip.
You had pushed aside that memory, not liking the way it made your entire body buzz. “Miguel?”
Then he opens the door wider, staring down at you. His position was surprisingly relaxed, one arm leant against the doorframe, as he wore those monotoned clothes that brought out his red eyes.
Speaking of those red eyes, you caught them scanning your body, a little too slowly and for a little too long. You gulp, not meaning to come across so nervous.
You hold up the severely scrunched up note. Miguel shifts his gaze to it. “I see you decided to take your annoyance out on that this time.” He comments.
You narrow your eyes. “Why am I not fired?”
“I thought you’d be happy to see that note.” He says, relaxing more against the doorframe.
“No. I’m not happy to see any note.” You say, lowering your arm. “Why couldn’t you just tell me in person?”
“Because I wanted to avoid this.” He gestures to you in general.
“You can’t expect me not to be a little curious at the sudden change of heart.” You say, trying not to let your gaze drift down his body. When he had shifted his shirt rose a fraction, letting you see part of his hips and abs.
Of course he had abs. You weren’t blind to how built he was, but the small visual still seemed to make you blink too many times and your brain re-wire.
“You don’t need to be curious.” Miguel states, his tongue running along his fang as if he were bored, but the expression in his eyes begged to differ.
“But I am.” You say, tucking the note in your back pocket. “Look, it’s beneficial for you if I know the reason. Then I can work on what made you want to fire me and continue doing what made you re-hire me.”
“Don’t do what made me re-hire you.” Miguel quickly answers.
Your brows furrow. “You’re saying that like what I did was bad…Why would you hire me for something you don’t want me to do again?”
“You ask a lot of questions, you know that?”
“Don’t worry, I have a lot more in my head for you.” You smile.
Miguel shakes his head, looking away with a clench to his jaw. The tiniest of smiles edged the corner of his mouth, but with his turned away head you weren’t able to catch it. And when he glanced back it was gone.
“Can’t I do something without being questioned?” Miguel asks. “I mean, you got your job back, you should be happy…and any other sparkly emotion.”
“You should use those ‘sparkly emotions’ more often, O’Hara. You know people who can lead with positivity usually get more people on their side.” You tilt your head with a raise to your brow.
“You do realise going off track isn’t gonna make me tell you anything.” Miguel says.
Your smile falls as you press your lips together with a sigh. Miguel darts his gaze up your form again, checking your injuries. Your ankle was only partially sprained so no cast was needed, but his gaze kept on getting caught up on the small cuts that littered your body. Some faint, some more prominent, like the one on your bottom lip.
Before he knows it he’s grabbing a belt loop of your pants, pulling you slightly closer as he tilts your head how he wants. Your eyes widen at the action as your heart begins to pick a quicker pace. Two of his fingers stay under your chin—keeping your head tilted up—while his thumb hovers over your cut lip, his gaze narrowed in inspection.
“You should make sure that that doesn’t get infected.” He says in a whisper.
You scoff, though it comes out softer than intended, you having to gulp immediately after. You had been right—having him this close was going to give you a heart attack. “That’s rich coming from you.” Your voice has turned to a mere whisper also.
“You keep seeming to forget that you’re only human.” He mutters. “Weak.”
“You forgot annoying.” You mutter back. Miguel meets your gaze and you freeze. He was close. Too close. Because your mind was beginning to fog over as you stared at Miguel’s intrigued eyes.
Then suddenly he says “We’ll continue our Spanish lessons in a few hours.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary anymore.” You say, to which his eyes narrow, his hold still keeping your head tilted up.
“Really?” He sounds disbelieving. “So, you manage to say one Spanish sentence, and that’s it? you’re done?” He tilts his head his eyes darting. “I thought you were more determined than that.”
You narrow your eyes in turn. “And I learnt that sentence from my phone. So, yes, I think I’m fine.”
A small sneering smirk began to curve his lips. “I thought I took your phone.”
Your mouth opens and closes. “I…got a new one.”
“Or…you stole it back.” He counters, raising a brow.
“It’s easier this way. I don’t have to bother you with lessons.”
“But I liked getting something in return.” He answers smoothly.
“You were asking for things anyone could do.” You say.
“But I’d have to pay for someone to give me a massage.” He mocks sadness. “When you were there being oh so nice and generous.”
“I wasn’t being generous. It was apart of the deal.”
“And it still is.”
“No. You firing me, got rid of the deal altogether.” You say, moving to step away, wanting to breath in air that wasn’t getting mixed in with his.
But he pulls you back, tightening his hold on your chin a fraction, one of his fingers dragging to rest on the in-between of your jaw and neck.
“But I re-hired you, which means the deal’s back on.”
“What if I say no to the job?” You suddenly ask.
“Chaparrita, you’re not gonna say no.”
And you hated the fact that he was right. No matter what people said you did like this job, being around all these spider variants. It settled for an interesting life.
Miguel’s finger—that rested by your jaw—started to subtly caress back and forth. It had soon grown into a habit of his, when he got the chance to touch you.
There was almost something soothing about it for him. Being able to feel your soft skin against his claws, that he would usually only use for violence. A contradiction that silently said to him ‘Not everything about you is violent. Not everything has to be’.
And those words only seemed to come up in your presence. At first he had been annoyed by them and that fact. He doesn’t have time or the energy for “feelings” and such. He had to stay focused.
But over—especially—the past few days his annoyance had fizzled away, slowly but surely. Shifting to a feeling that he much preferred, one that made his body buzz with heat. And of course—only in your presence.
So, yes, maybe he did re-hire you so that the masked men wouldn’t be able to find you in your home, but maybe it was also for selfish reasons. Not liking the idea of not seeing you, even if his scowl was still present.
He liked being around you, even just listening to you talk. It all still confused him, but he finally recognised his want for you to stay. To make him feel settled, calm even.
At the end of the day, both his ‘reasons’ for re-hiring you are selfish and he knows it. He wants you close and in his line of vision, and he was going to make sure things stayed that way.
“Alright.” You say, finally agreeing to continuing this deal with Miguel. “But please don’t make me run around endlessly.”
“Have I been?” He shakes his head for you. “No. I’ve only given you easy tasks.”
You don’t why he has but you are definitely grateful. “Don’t use your phone again.” He suddenly says.
“Many people use phones for different thin—“
Miguel cuts in, sparing you an annoyed look. “For Spanish lessons.”
You finally manage to step back, holding in your sigh of relief until you were alone. Miguel watched you intently, catching onto the way your hand began to fiddle nervously with the very same belt loop he had been holding onto.
“I’ll uh…see you in a few hours then.” You say, beginning to step backwards down the hallway. “In the tech room?”
Miguel shakes his head. “It’s still being repaired. Just come back to my room.”
You ignore the flutter in your stomach, as you nod. “See you then.” Then you swiftly turn and head towards the stairs.
Miguel watches you go, his lips curving up into an easy smile.
;;
A few hours later—those hours having been filled with back and forth thoughts—you were walking past all the different spider variants, heading towards Miguel’s room.
You narrowed your feelings down to nervousness, having gone in a roundabout of thinking ‘it’s fine’ ‘I’ll be fine’ to ‘im starting to sweat’ ‘why the hell am I starting to sweat?!’
“Y/n!” A voice stopped you, and you turn to see Miles, Gwen and Hobie.
“Miles.” You smile. “So sorry for practically leaving you back there.” You did feel bad.
“Please don’t. I would have told you to run anyway. Those men were scary.” He made a face which made you chuckle. “They had like….real large claws.”
“Yeah…would much prefer never to see them again.” You half chuckle.
“How are you?” Gwen asks, taking her hood off.
You nod. “Good. Better. Yeah…a lot better.” You glance down at your ankle. “Wish I wasn’t so accident prone though.”
“Nah.” Hobie begins, swinging his arm around your shoulder. “You jus’ have a running theme of bein’ in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“That makes me feel so much better.” You scoff.
“Where are you headed anyway?” Hobie asks you.
“Oh, just to Miguel’s—“ you pause. You were gonna say ‘Miguel’s bedroom’ but then realised how strange that would sound. “To speak to Miguel.”
“I thought you already did?” Gwen asks, brushing her hair from her eyes.
“Yes…but…we have more to discuss.” You nod.
“Like what? Does he want to talk to you about his strange display of worry the other day?” Hobie asks with a sly smirk.
You glance at him, brows furrowing. “Coz that don’t really sound like him.” Hobie continues.
“You’re doing that face again.” You say, narrowing your eyes.
“Am I?” He again prays innocence.
“Yeah, you are. And it’s beyond annoying.”
“Jus’ like I thought he found you.” Hobie mutters almost smugly.
“What?”
In response Hobie just smiles at you, putting his hands in his pockets. You shift your gaze to Gwen, who is looking away.
“Why are you guys acting so suspicious?” You ask.
“We just find it…strange is all.” Gwen says.
“Find what strange?”
“Well…Miguel was the one to bring you in…which isn’t strange, but it was just the way he was acting.” Gwen begins, making your brows furrow further.
“I’m not following.” You say slowly.
“He didn’t really let any of the doctors touch you up.” Gwen continues.
“Then how….?” You’re confused. Because you had woken up with clean cuts and a fixed ankle.
“Ay, what are we all talking about, you guys?” Pav appears, swinging down from a different ceiling path.
“Jus’ about Miguel’s strange actions in medical.” Hobie says.
“Oh yeah!” Pav nods quickly. “He was acting really different. Wouldn’t let anyone near you, y/n.” He gestures to you, to which you raise your brows in disbelief. Then Pav chuckles. “It was almost like he was—“
But Gwen cuts him quickly. “He was just acting different. That’s all.” Gwen spares Pavitr a small glare.
“Okayyy.” You drag out, eyeing them all again. “Right now Miles is the only one seeming to be acting normal. Which I appreciate.” You had begun to back up down the path. Miles spares you a small smile in response.
As you begin to head to Miguel’s room, their words circled your head. What did they mean by ‘didn’t let the doctors touch you up’ or ‘didn’t let anyone near you’. They’re right—that is different from Miguel. So far different that you just can’t seem to believe it.
Maybe they were playing some prank. But even though you can see Hobie and Pav coming up with that joke, you can’t see Gwen getting in on it.
But those thoughts soon drift away as you near Miguel’s door again. You knock, feeling your palms increase in sweat.
Miguel opens the door. Upon seeing you he tilts his head, asking for you to come inside. You do, slipping past him and into the cozy, dim room.
“I hope you’ve come up with some helpful phrases.” You say turning to him. “Because I gave up my phone for this.”
Miguel pulls out a desk chair, taking a seat. You look around, seeing no other chair to occupy. “Use my bed.” He says, gesturing to his ruffled sheets.
You turn your gaze to it, holding down the small hitch of your breath. Why was it hitching? It was just a bed.
You walk over, carefully taking a seat at the edge, facing an already seated Miguel. “And yes, I am better than your phone.” He says, meeting your gaze.
“You sure?” You question. “My phone is pretty helpful.”
“And you’re saying I’m not?” Miguel asks with a small tilt his head. “That hurts.” His dry humour was something that had grown on you. Whether you liked it or not.
“Quiero ir a la feria.” It was a simple beginner question that you repeated effortlessly.
“Quiero ir a la feria.”
“It means ‘I want to go to the fair’.” Miguel explains.
After a few more simple sentences, a idea pops up in Miguel’s head. He probably shouldn’t execute it, but of course he still will.
“Me encantaría usar tu cama para otras cosas.” Miguel says, waiting for you to repeat it.
“Me encantaría usar tu cama para otras cosas.” You repeat, your flow having gotten a lot better.
Miguel’s breathing hitches upon hearing the words. You had assumed he got you to say something simple, along the lines of ‘I am a farmer who plants trees’. But he instead made you say ‘I’d love to use your bed for other things’.
And Miguel should probably stop and move on, but he doesn’t particularly want to. “¿No crees que me vería bonita atrapada entre tus sábanas, Miguel?”
“Aren’t you gonna tell me what the other sentence means?” You ask.
“Repeat it.” Miguel doesn’t budge.
You sigh. “¿No crees que me vería bonita atrapada entre tus sábanas, Miguel?” (Don’t you think I’d look pretty trapped in your sheets, Miguel?) You tilt your head, staring at him. All you know is that you asked him a question, but that’s about it.
Miguel breathes heavier, giving you a once over. “Tan bonita.” (So pretty.) He murmers.
“Do you want me to repeat that too?” You ask.
Miguel chuckles. “That’s fine.” Your words staying trapped in Miguel’s brain, seeming to repeat…over and over.
Miguel’s gaze kept flicking to your lips. Conflicting emotions resided behind this action. He could see your cut, which reminded him of the fact that you got dragged into a mess you didn’t particularly ask for, resulting in you getting injured and down right hunted.
The other emotion veered closer to his reasoning for getting you to say those sentences. He wanted to feel them. Lean closer…and see what they felt like. Maybe he wanted to soothe your cut with his tongue…
“Miguel? Are you gonna tell me what I just said?” You ask, leaning closer to get his attention.
Miguel meets your gaze. “I’ll let you try and figure it out.”
“That’s not very good teaching.” You mutter.
He just shrugs. “Then I guess you‘ll never know.”
“And don’t translate it on your phone.” Miguel says pointedly. “That would make you a bad student.”
You clench your jaw but nod. “Fine…” your gaze shifts to the window, seeing the dark sky.
You quickly stand. “I didn’t realise it was this late. I should go.” You begin to head to the door.
Miguel watches your every movement, until you glance back giving him a small nod. “Thanks for somewhat of a good lesson.”
Miguel just hums with a nod, as you turn shutting the door and leaving. Leaving Miguel to gaze back at his bed and where you were seated.
He had already begun to decide on what he wants in return.
Tumblr media
ok, this post isn’t letting me add the colours and now I’m sad
this part was a little less action, coz i wanted focus more on miguel’s fEeLiNgS. coz boy does he have them
taglist: @dangerousdreamkitty @ale-maral @inosukesweirdwife @flooftoof @cynicallyaestetic @silassinclair @mariiyoushi @ilovedilfjake @toastlover21 @wlellsl @k1rbbo @bitchotine @guacam011y @blnk338 @wolfiepirate @kurxxmi @corpsebridenightamare @ohantonia @yunonaneko @irenered-20 @z3r0art @sunflowercandie @perilous-pasta @gloriouskryptonitecrown @whyamistillhere78 @ritzzzsblog @mm1sta @tealcoloured-murder @aweebsimp101 @livelaughlaurv @s0dium @roguepancake @sunshiines-stuff @internal-soundtrack @oscarisdaddy69 @clairacassidy @captainquake42 @nanaloverz @ilyless @sindulgent666 @shine101 @thebadasssass @hibeejibees @nirishin @ily2lia @lillunna @cinnamoncattie @futuristicpandakid @maroonobserver @thatsopanu @edgyficuselastica @kittekat420 @stararctic @maxi-ride @renn-pumkin-head @scaraza @justanotherkpopstanlol @fauxizs @cloudsandrenoswife @ilmovor @larissa-lolll @elliemm @httpkiyoomi @j2warren @arquiiva @ilovemiguelohara @a-monster-can-filled-with-cum @fandom-gal44 @elwyn7 @albiebright
taglist #2 taglist #3 taglist #4 taglist #5 taglist #6
5K notes · View notes
januaryembrs · 3 months
Text
SKIN LIKE PUFF PASTRY | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [6]
Tumblr media
description: the ONE where you help him grieve another woman + the ONE with the promise
length: 8.04k
warnings: maeves death. grief. Spencer is a sad bby. HOWEVER maybe perhaps some fluff? healing journey! gun, blood, usual cm warnings.
author's note. HERE YOU GO POOKIES. I hope you enjoy now I've put you all out of your misery.
previous chpt | next chpt | series masterlist
Tumblr media
'Lacy, oh lacy, skin like puff pastry,
aren't you the sweetest thing on this side of hell?'
The one where you help him grieve another woman.
It killed her walking up those stairs every day. She knew the gift baskets were piling up, had already had a terse conversation with his neighbour about leaving ‘clutter’ in the hallway, to which she thinks she might have swung at the eighty year old woman if she didn’t think it would cause Spencer problems. 
He had enough on his plate already. Maeve had died, for fuck sake. 
In fact, she almost entirely blew her top when she made it to the top of the steps to see every single one of Garcia’s gift baskets had been moved, the bunches of tulips she’d brought him every other day over the past two weeks gone with little trace other than browning petals scattering his door mat. Even the cookies JJ had baked him, the card Henry had drawn for his uncle Spencer had been moved. 
Bugsy stopped for a second, her head snapping to the door to the right where his neighbour, Miss Cavanaugh, had shuffled out of her apartment in her pink dressing gown, her grey, wispy curls flat against her head as if she’d just rolled out of bed. 
She blinked at the younger girl through thick, bubble-like glasses, her blue eyes annoyed the minute she saw her standing there. 
“You can’t just take people's things, you know, I don’t care if it got in the way of your daily walk, Miriam, those were for Spencer-” Bugsy started, her voice as calm as she could get it even though her scowl spoke for itself. 
“I didn’t touch any of his crap, little lady,” Miriam raised her mottled hand, crooked fingers shushing the outrage Bug had been ready to bark at her, and the women sighed when they realised they might just have another argument like their last one, “Kid was poking around at like six in the morning taking it all in, nearly woke up my dog,”
Bugsy rolled her eyes, “God forbid,” Miriam flipped her the finger which made Bugsy’s jaw drop wide open, shuffling back into her apartment muttering to herself, her mail in her mangled hands, “Old bag,” Bug murmured to herself, but her eyes quickly locked back onto Spencer’s door.
He had been out. Well, he had been into his hallway, but it was something. 
Her legs felt like jelly when she took hesitant steps towards his doorway, her knuckles gently rapping on the wood, a frog crawling into her throat that she tried clearing with a cough. 
“Spencer?” Her voice was soft, melodic, and it made him wince where he sat against the other side of his entrance, his own hair a state of disarray, “It’s me,” 
Of course he knew it was her. He didn’t think a day could ever go by where he wouldn’t know her by the sound of her steps alone. Like he’d grown a sixth sense for these sorts of things, like they were linked by some weird Spidey powers like in the comics she’d brought over to his apartment and begged him to read, because even though he could devour a million words a minute (her words not his) it was the art in it she loved and that forced him to slow down and enjoy the pages. 
He wanted to tell her to go away, but he couldn’t find it in him to ever be so cruel, to dig himself a bigger trench of regret than he already felt. He couldn’t save Maeve, physically could never get the image of her dying from his ginormous, genius brain that held onto every detail, and on top of it, he knew he deserved none of the kindness Bugsy showered him with. He’d heard her come stand outside his door every single morning, heard her knocking with the same worried call of his name at the same time before breakfast. He heard her sigh after ten or so minutes and leave, her retreating footsteps clunking down the stairs sadly. 
She was too good for him. He’d only solidified it that she was so beyond what he deserved, that he could never treat her the way she deserved to be treated, the same way he hadn’t with Maeve. 
Spencer’s self loathing was a poison, slowly devouring him every time he heard her voice, felt her approach through the floorboards, when he’d seen the little notes she’d left on the books she’d dropped off outside his door. Usually they were her reviews on them, a list of pros and cons, her general musings, all things they would have chatted over a bagel if things had been normal between them. But he couldn’t remember the last time they’d had breakfast together the way they had like clockwork since she joined the BAU. That was a lie. He could remember, of course he could, it had been four months, three weeks and five days ago, a Monday. He thinks she knocked around 10am. Something like that. 
It was the day before she’d flown to London, actually. She had dropped the boys (the boys being Niko and Sergio) off to his apartment, thanked him a bunch of times for looking after them, given him five months worth of cat litter and kibbles and immediately unwrapped a to-go bag of their favourite pastries from the bakery downtown. He remembered it was close to October because she’d bought over maple buns and they only sold at the beginning of Autumn, and he’d asked if she’d be doing anything for Halloween seeing as their usual plans of a horror movie marathon were being put on pause while she was in England. She wasn’t, and she’d asked to call him instead so they could discuss their favourite trick or treating outfits they’d seen. 
He’d promised her a call, only another case popped up by the time the thirty-first rolled around, and it had never happened. 
Spencer hated how he was able to remember every detail of her face the day she’d left, the warmth of her hug he’d clung onto for months. He hated that day she’d surprised him and he hadn’t even thought to wrap his arms around her because he’d been so stuck feeling the overwhelming shock of seeing her. He hated that he’d made her frown like that, that she had ever doubted that he wanted to see her. But it had felt like he’d been caught cheating, why had it felt like cheating? 
He knew why. He knew why seeing her when he was going out to call Maeve had felt like he was double-crossing her. 
Not that it mattered anymore, he thought bitterly. Because Maeve was dead. And Bugsy had every right to hate him. But she didn’t. Because she was too good. 
He hated himself more than he’d ever thought was possible. 
He heard her sigh, but she didn’t repeat herself. Nor did she leave. Instead, he felt the door rattle behind his own spine as she slumped against the wood, sliding to the floor until she unknowingly leaned against him, little more than a few centimetres from his warmth. 
He heard her pull out something from her bag, and the tell tale slip of paper over paper told him she’d brought a book with her, pre-empting staying longer this time. Spencer wanted to tell her not to bother, because if he got brave enough to open the door to her and see her face, smell her clothes, feel the softness of her hugs, he thinks if he told her every thought bouncing around that aching skull of his, it would all come crashing down around him, and he wouldn’t ever be able to stop telling her how sorry he was. For all of it. For letting her pull away from him when she was grieving. For letting her kiss him that night Derek brought her over, because it was obvious she wanted to forget the whole thing. For pushing her away when she came back from London. For being rude and cold when she wanted answers. For trying desperately to completely detach himself from her, which had only ever made him want to scream in frustration because it hadn’t worked anyway. 
Maeve had died because of him, an innocent woman he’d seen himself falling for if they’d been given the chance had died, and he was still head over heels in terrible, stupid love with Bugsy. 
 They stayed there, her reading and him aching from the inside out, for about seven minutes before her phone rang. He heard her huff, letting it go to answer phone and settling back down with her novel. That is, until her dial tone sprung back to life and she half growled under her breath, assuming she pressed the answer button, and he heard her voice again. 
“Hello?” She said, the slight annoyance bleeding into her words, and Spencer already knew that duty was calling by the way her book thumped to the floor and he could just picture her rubbing over her temple in frustration. “I have an appointment, Hotch, I can be there in a couple hours,” Silence, where he guessed Hotch was chiding her on her tardiness, “No, I know I’m supposed to book these things off- it’s just- it’s a contraceptive implant removal, yeah I really busted my IUD when I broke my arm, it’s not settled since,” Spencer almost smiled on instinct, almost, though he thought even if he did it would look like a bitter grimace because he’d not moved his face in over ten days. But she was a really good liar, and he’d always found that part of her charm. She huffed again, “God, you sound like Emily, yes I’m being safe- we are not having this conversation, Aaron, I’ll get there when I get there,” 
With that, perhaps the only person who would ever be allowed to slam the phone down on Aaron Hotchner in a huff did, and they were left alone in silence again. 
“You shouldn’t ignore their calls for my sake,” He found his voice, even if it was groggy with misuse. He felt her straighten against the wooden door, her shock palpable through the brief moment of silence that seemed to stretch on for just a second too long, as if she was scrambling not to say something else than what came out. 
“Pot, meet kettle,” She murmured back, loud enough he could hear it, and she felt him shuffle behind the door, wanting to smack herself in the face for not feeling him there sooner.
“New case?” He asked, his eyes heavy, his pyjamas days old. He knew he needed to shower, but the minute he’d walked into his apartment everything had felt pointless. 
“Yup.” She breathed in, her shoes brushing against his welcome mat with a scratch as she pulled her knees up to her chest, “Although I think Hotch will stick to Penelope making the calls after today,” 
Something between a scoff and a sigh came from his throat, something she couldn’t tell if it was good or bad.
“What is it?” He replied, and she remained quiet for a second, picking the skin around her nails. 
“I’ll tell you if you open the door,” She bartered, wondering for a second if she’d gone too far and had pushed him back into the hole she was coaxing him out of. 
“Blackmail,” Spencer said, all emotion gone from his voice, and Bugsy winced, “A little on the nose for someone who’s grieving,” 
But she could sense it. The way his syllable raised on the last word, that he was being cynical, not cruel like she’d worried. 
“Think of it as a trade deal,” She humoured him, though she kept her voice soft so he knew she meant no harm, just to cheer him up if it was even possible, “You get your answer, and I get to give you this incredibly boring book that I know you can devour in a half hour and give me the summarised version,” 
He smiled. Weakly, and only for a brief few seconds, because if there was anything that warmed him up from the cold, dark, nothingness place he’d found himself in it was her.
He wished he could dislike the fact she did it so easily, wish he could dislike how simple it was to like her, to feel himself wanting her even in that nothingness place he was crawling through as a lone ranger. He wanted to pull her into him tightly, wanted to let her fuss over him, to apologise until his voice ran even more hoarse, but he couldn’t. He feared if he touched her, she’d be marked for death right then and then; that he’d taint her somehow. And that he could never do. 
Yet, he bent to her will. He stood up, prompting her to do the same, leaving his door on the latch as he pulled it open a crack, enough for her to jimmy the book through, The Death of Ivan Ilyich, by Leo Tolstoy. 
He had read Tolstoy before, of course he had. War and Peace was one of the first books he ever owned in Russian, ironically enough one that he’d read only a few days before they’d driven to Baltimore and he’d met Bugsy for the first time. Yet it was this one she’d given him of all of Tolstoy’s works; the one where the protagonist goes on a journey of acceptance that he’s dying with no explanation as to why. 
He thought she might just be the only person who knew how to crawl into the mess of his brain and find something familiar in there. Because this was the same book he’d read when Emily had died. 
He would never tell her he already owned it, however. Nor would he call her out for the fact she most certainly didn’t find it boring considering she was so far into it with annotations already scribbled in the margins. He just took it with a lump in his throat, his eyes burning with the idea she was so incredibly her that it felt like he had no option but to drown in it. 
“Body’s been found in San Francisco,” She said gently, and he knew she wished he would open the door fully so she could at least see him. Yet he kept the door on the latch. Because if there wasn’t a barrier between them, he wasn’t sure how else he would keep it all in, “You get to know more when you finish the book,” 
He sighed, holding the book tight to his chest, and they stood there for a second, the air turning stifling as they both held back a million words behind brave faces, “Will you be gone long?” 
“No, only a few days, I hope,” She replied, zipping her bag up and slinging it on her back judging by the sounds coming from her side of the door. She hovered, not wanting to say the wrong thing, but wanting to stay here on his welcome mat because this was the closest they'd been physically and otherwise in months. 
“Be safe,” He murmured, and her hand shot through the gap in the doorway, her pinky finger raised to the heavens. 
“Promise,” Bugsy said, her heart jack hammering against her ribcage when a long, warm finger wrapped around hers, and they squeezed them together. It was just a little touch, but it was a start. She wished he would open the door so she could beg him to talk to her, even if it meant crawling to her knees, she wasn’t above it whatsoever. 
Reluctantly, she let him go, though she noted the way he had held onto her until she did so. 
“I have to go,” She said sadly, drawing her hand to her chest like she’d received a Midas touch, and her hand was suddenly valuable after gracing his own. 
Her skin felt electric, her breaths felt laboured. She wanted more, but she couldn’t have it. 
And with that, it took every ounce of resolve to turn on her heels and head back down to her car. 
Bugsy stared at the artwork with a grimace, picking hard at her cuticles because the metallic smell was making her stomach turn. Their UnSub had taken to painting with his victims’ blood, canvasses upon canvasses of leeched ichor brushed out to make out an image of the bodies. 
Her nose scrunched when another wave of hot, iron wafted up her nose, and she thought about asking Hotch if she could step outside for a moment, knowing he likely wouldn’t question her perhaps ever again after their little phone call. 
“What other reasons would he have for separating plasma from the blood?” Hotch asked, and her brow furrowed, her mouth opening to speak before another voice cut her off.
“It’s a habit,” 
She swore she gave herself whiplash with how fast her head snapped to the side. She would know his voice anywhere. It sounded lost and desolate, yes, but her eyes swirled with relief when she saw him standing there, looking skittish and tired but alive. 
“Reid,” Morgan breathed, the same level of surprise she felt as JJ darted towards him, her arms wrapping around his middle before he could protest.
“Spence,” She said, and they hugged one another tightly, his eyes following over Jennifer’s shoulder to where Bugsy seemed to watch him unsurely, like she was waiting for him to tell her what to do, how to make it better, how to fix it. A girl who had always been so sure of herself now reduced to pining from afar for answers. 
“I didn’t expect you back this soon. You sure you're ready?” Hotch asked, an almost identical look of hesitance on his face as Bugsy had on hers, and it was no wonder half of the department said they were two sides of the same coin.
“No but I think I figured something out,” He breathed, moving out of JJ’s embrace towards the boards where the victim profiles were, and he began speaking in that slow, cold tone he’d taken on. 
Spencer, to no one's surprise, was able to all but fit their disjointed puzzle pieces together in the space of an hour's flight, and with just a few pointers in Garcia’s direction, they’d got their UnSub. 
“And bingo was his name-o, actually his name is Bryan Hughes, he is an AB positive haemophiliac who works as a janitor at the Bay Area Museum of Art. And before you ask, yes his address has been sent to your phones.” Penelope rushed, pinging the information to their phones just as fast as it had appeared on her screen.
“You’re the best baby girl,”  Morgan said into the speaker, hanging up the phone as the team stood from their place at the desk, Hotch assigning them tasks as everyone strapped on their kevlars and guns. 
She held back for a moment, her eyes assessing him like man approaching a wounded wolf. 
“I’m okay-” He was about to say, because he knew what she was going to ask before she thought to do it, except she simply nodded at him, turning on her heel to follow the others, despite him expecting something more Bugsy-like. 
It wasn’t like her to leave him without some final word, some final stand, and he was right. Because no sooner had she gotten all of three paces, she whirled back around, heading back towards him with a timid expression, and she all but launched herself into his arms. 
He held her tight, the warmth of her body making his eyes well up, because if there was anything that could have made him crack his resolve, it was her touch alone. 
She carded her fingrs through his hair, tucking her face into his neck and breathing in deeply. 
“I’ll see you when I get back,” She murmured, stopping herself from saying anymore as she released him, well aware of the fact he had tried squeezing her tighter before she’d had to let him go, like he hadn’t wanted her to go. But neither did she. 
“Stay safe,” He said on instinct, and she nodded, her eyes trailing over his empty eyes and sallow skin. 
She wanted to kiss away every trace of sadness there, but she couldn’t. Wanted to wrap him into a hug so tight she might just stop breathing, but it would have been worth it. Wanted to tuck him into bed and stroke his hair and feed him tea and chocolate and make sure he was kept well, because she’d do anything to make him better. 
But she couldn’t. They had a case. 
It took every scrap of resolve to let go of Spencer Reid, sheepish and mourning, and leave him in that room alone. 
She sighed, scrubbing at the back of her hand with the shitty aeroplane soap they had on the jet, the tiny basin doing nothing to help the fact she was all but peeling off the top layer of her epidermis. 
Catching Bryan had been messy; he had come at her with a scalpel, she had shot, his blood had sprayed over her arms, soaking right through. Spencer had all but gone white when she’d gotten to the runway, hoping to make it back to Quantico by midnight. 
“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He fretted, despite the fact it was the closest he'd come in weeks to an emotion that wasn't sadness, and he stood little more than a few centimetres away, his fingers twined together, wanting to check her over himself. 
She waved him off, “It’s not mine. I’m going to wash up on the plane, don’t worry,” She replied, her expression exhausted, twitching on the spot to stop herself pushing his hair behind his ear. She knew he’d washed it because it looked particularly fluffy, the way it always did when he hadn’t bothered to style it before he left the house, “Are you okay?” 
He nodded wordlessly, and took her mini suitcase from her side, wheeling it along the tarmac for her, his face a worried scowl as they boarded the jet. 
She thanked him as she stepped past him putting it in the overhead luggage, heading straight for the toilets to wash up, Morgan and JJ ducking out of the way when they saw Carrie 2.0 passing by them. 
It wasn’t until they were already in the air did she emerge, her change of clothes on her skin that had been rubbed raw, her uniform in a biohazard bag that she swiftly dumped at the back of the jet to keep it out of sight. She threw herself down on the nearest seat, her entire body aching from the long few days, but she didn’t miss the hazel eyes that bore into the side of her head to her right. 
She turned to meet their gaze, even though she already knew who it was before she’d even looked. Spencer looked like he was caught between about five different sentences to start with, his eyes trailing down her arms and to her hands that were now squeaky clean. 
“You sure you’re okay?” He murmured, and she flipped her palms over for him to see for himself. No cuts. No abrasions. Except her usually marred cuticles she’d been picking at all day. 
“Pinkie promised, didn’t I?” She teased, but no humour met his face. He just looked back at her, like he didn’t quite believe her still, like she was a ghost where his best friend should be sat, or a trick of the light. She turned her knees towards him, her sleepy eyes buttery and genuine, as if she was trying to make herself as relaxed as possible, just so he would stop worrying, “Spencer, I’m fine. Didn’t even knick me,”
He stayed quiet for a moment, looking down to his satchel bag where he played with the buckle, the brown leather cold in between his fingers, “I’m sorry I’ve been weird and distant and ignoring you- I just…”
“Spencer,” She tried to interject with a honeyed voice, but he shook his head, a crease forming between his brows when he heard her say his name like that. 
“I just worry I’m letting everyone down, but when I saw you covered in blood-” He gulped, willing his eyes not to burn up again with unshed tears. 
“Spence, it’s okay,” She cooed, shuffling closer to him in her seat, her hand migrating to his knee, because she didn’t know if he’d want to touch her after she’d had someone else's blood all over her hand. She liked her chances, yet the last thing she wanted was to push him. “No one’s expecting you to go back to normal, I just want to know you’re safe. I owe you as much, I mean you looked after me when Emily was gone,” 
“You don’t owe me anything, Bug,” He shook his head again, his brows furrowing and she was quick to correct herself, “Besides, I loved living with you,” He rested his palm over her hand and gave her what he hoped looked like a small smile. 
“I didn’t mean it like that, Spence,” She said, flipping her hand over to squeeze his fingers gently, “Did you not think I loved living with you too? I just want to take care of you for me,” 
He looked at her, her eyes hopeful as she roved over his clean clothes, his freshly washed hair, his satchel he’d kept tight in his lap, as if checking him over for bruises despite the fact he hadn’t been in the field. The crushing weight over his chest like a fallen log seemed to shift, and with it, her hand soothed the wound, her smile dried his eyes, her warmth engulfed his very core in a blanket. 
Spencer knew he was going to be okay if it was him and her. He knew the world was livable again if she was fighting in his corner. But then, when hadn’t she been?
Sensing his ease in attitude, or perhaps she just knew his eyes so well to notice the way they seemed to carry less burden as soon as she’d spoken, she leaned back in her seat, “Besides, the boys miss you. They said you gave them more treats than I do and Niko appreciated you brushing his fur for him,”
He smiled over at her bashfully, his head dropping down to lean on her shoulder as she pressed her cheek to his head. 
“Well, if the boys miss me, I guess I have no choice,” He murmured, his eyes heavy the second he rested against her, like she’d sprayed a sedative over him, and he couldn’t help think that her new perfume wasn’t nearly as them as her old one had been. Not that he disliked this one, just that the other one reminded him of morning breakfasts, and movie marathons, and nights when they would bake apple cake at twelve in the morning because she made it how he liked it to a tea. 
She chuckled, and it sounded like a hum in his ear, as he curled up to her side, “Get some sleep, I’ll wake you up when we land and I’ll drive us home,”
And it didn’t take much for him to do so, even if something had been right on the tip of his tongue; his apartment had only felt like home when she said it like that. 
+1. The one with the promise.
He’d had that dream again. 
It had been four months since Maeve died, but he’s had that dream again.
He’d start out in a restaurant, the walls lined top to toe with books, the chandelier the perfect amount of dust that it had character but not tackiness. A waiter would bring him over a menu and an iced tea, his favourite. He’d go to look up to ask why he’d been sat at a restaurant he had no recollection of getting to, and he’d see her staring back at him. 
Maeve. Looking healthy and happy, like he hadn’t watched her brains sprayed across that warehouse floor. 
“I’ve been waiting for you,” She would say, a glass of some kind of white wine swirling in her hand, her teeth straight and white and pretty when she smiled. 
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to keep you,” He’d say, though he couldn’t feel his mouth moving, he just knew it had come from him. “Where are we?” 
“You promised me a date, so this is it,” Maeve said, a glint in her blue eyes, “First and the last. Let’s make it count,”
His heart would give a jump then, because he’d remember this was the only time he’d ever get to see her. He’d remember that she was dead, that he had never seen her in person like this until the day she’d died. 
He’d open his mouth to apologise, to beg for an explanation or forgiveness, whichever one he thought was more pressing, and then the door would swing open. 
And Bugsy would walk in. 
Donned in the same bluebell dress she’d worn at JJ’s wedding, only her arm wasn’t broken. And she’d walk right up to him, that smile on her face that said she was excited to see him. 
And Maeve would look at her, and instead of scowling or sneering like a woman soaking in jealousy would, they would look at one another and grin like they’d known each other decades. 
“Car’s out front when you guys are done,” Bugsy would chirp, her eyes warm when she looked down at the dead woman, satiated in genuine happiness to see her, “Don’t keep him too long,”
“One dance, Agent Prentiss, and he’s all yours,” Maeve would reply with a giggle, her brunette locks falling like a waterfall over her shoulder when she’d stand, offering a hand to him to sweep him onto the dancefloor, “You coming, Spencer?”
And his eyes would snap open, returning him back to the horrible reality of his darkened bedroom, his apartment silent other than the sound of Bugsy tossing in the spare room, the way she did when she got too warm in her sleep, and he threw his legs out of bed to go get her some cold water. 
But the dream never left him. The same one he’d had for months, since she’d moved in with him to take care of him, make sure he was eating and keeping as happy as he could be. 
The sight of her in that blue dress, waiting for him to finish his dance haunted him almost as much as Maeve did. 
“Why didn’t you tell me you hadn’t been sleeping?” She asked, cornering him in the kitchen once they’d both dropped their go bags in their room and he’d jumped for the kettle to make them both coffee. 
He blanked, the mug nearly slipping from his grasp as he plonked it down on the counter in front of her, “Why would you think-”
“Spencer,” She said as a warning, her lip quirking between her teeth as she gnawed at it worriedly. 
“I didn’t want you to worry,” He confessed too quickly, scratching the back of his neck the way he did when he was nervous, “I know you worry about me, especially right now, and when you worry, you don’t sleep, and I just thought what’s the point in both of us running on nothing,” 
She huffed, and he shuffled around the island to meet her where she stood by the bar stools, looking like she wanted to be cross with him but she couldn’t find it in herself. 
“You should have told me, I could have stroked your back the way you liked, or, I don’t know,” She shrugged, looking anywhere but his guilty looking hues, “Smuggled night nurse in your tea,”
“Drugs. Cause that’s way better than my thing,” He teased, and she snickered, and he sighed in relief that she wasn’t really mad at him. He hated lying to her, he’d just wanted to keep his odd dream to himself until he could make sense of it, “Did Dave tell you anything else?” 
She shook her head, and he knew she was telling the truth because she seemed to immediately be the one assessing him for anything else she should have been told much sooner. 
“Is your head okay?” She asked, putting a gentle hand to his forehead to check for migraine heat, “I know they get worse when you don’t sleep-”
“My head’s fine, Bug,” Spencer replied, grabbing her hand with his long fingertips, pulling them from his face to squeeze at her side with a warming smile, “Promise. I’ll tell you if it gets bad,”
She watched him sceptically for a moment before she leaned over to grab her coffee, taking a long sip, and sighing in delight when it tasted perfect, “I love your memory, did I ever tell you that?”
He chuckled, dodging a rogue Niko that bobbed between his feet because it was almost dinner time for the two miscreants, moving back over to the sink to tidy the granules of sugar he’d spilled, “Many times. But I’d remember your coffee even if I had a normal brain,”
“Humble as always,” She remarked, smiling devilishly when he shot her a glare over his shoulder. It was then that Sergio jumped up onto the counter, the way Spencer had tried scolding him for a million times because of the germs, only for the onyx black cat to flick his tail in his face as if to flip him a middle finger, yowling in the man’s face for his usual dinner of kibble and water. 
“Alright, alright,” Spencer sighed, reaching into the cabinet to grab their food, two fluffy bodies immediately weaving in between his long legs with mews and head bumps, because those boys knew how to wrap him around their little finger, “You ought to start being nice to me, boys. One day it’ll probably just be me and you guys, and then you can’t just bat your tails at me like you do your mom-”
“I know I’m turning twenty eight but I still got a few years left kicking, Spence,” Bugsy protested, her brows furrowing when she heard his murmurs, which she hadn’t found entirely odd since he always spoke to the boys when he fed them, except this time it had made her draw back in confusion, “Where am I in this hypothetical bachelor pad you got going on?”
“You’ll be with whatever guy is lucky enough to talk his way into dating you, maybe engaged, maybe married,” He said like it was nothing, despite the fact he’d been thinking about that exact scenario for months. Since Penelope had mentioned just how good British men were in bed, in fact. Because he felt both sick and curious as to whatever it had been that had come out of her mouth in return, “And I’ll look after the boys while the two of you move on, because you’ll feel sorry for taking my only friends away from me when you leave, and I’ll be forced to become a lonely, old cat man,” 
“That’s not true,” She said, her face warming when he chuckled cynically, running a hand through his hair, “Spence, you can’t actually believe that?”
“Yes it is, Bugsy, you don’t need to try and make me feel better,” He brushed her off, wiping his knuckles over heavy eyelids, “You and I both like facts, right? It’s a quantifiable fact that zero women except Maeve have ever fallen in love with me in thirty years. Even if we call it twelve years to remove the factor of less meaningful relationships developing before adulthood, that means I’ll be forty two by the time I next get a shot, at which point I’ll be too old and washed up for anyone to find me attractive. Let’s face it, no one is ever going to love me like that again,”
“That’s not true,” She repeated, her chest hammering, her face scrunched into a scowl, “You’re wrong. Quantifiably wrong.”
“You have no data to back that statement up, Bug,” He replied with a dark snicker, and maybe it was the lack of sleep or the idea of her engaged to some other bonehead that had made him so crass, “Can’t make a conclusion without drawing on your evidence, to which you have none,” 
“Yes, I do, asshole. I know for a fact that someone is in love with you,” She snapped, and it was like a bolt of lightning had cut through their conversation, blowing up in her face, her entire body freezing the second the words had left her mouth.
She looked at him, her eyes panicked, and all teasing had dropped out of his expression, leaving something confused, “Bug-”
“I don’t know why I said that,” She cut him off, jumping into action and avoiding his burning gaze. But he was fast, and he was pushing off the counter just as quickly as her. 
“Bugsy, what do you mean? I don’t understand,” He persisted, darting only a pace behind her when she moved towards the living room to grab her cardigan off the back of the sofa.
She shook her head, “Ignore that, it doesn’t matter,”
“No, what did you mean by that?” Spencer asked, his voice tense because he had never seen her cower away from him like that, her body moving entirely into a state of flight. She shook her head, snatching the white fabric in her fingers and spinning on her heel to head for the doorway. But there he was, blocking her escape, his impossibly tall body stopping her right in her tracks, and she didn’t need to look up to know he had that special Spencer brand of Puppy Eyes. 
“I’m going to the store-”
“Bugsy,” 
“It doesn’t matter, Spence, just leave it,” She said shakily, trying to duck around him only for him to dodge to the left and stop her advance, “Spence, leave it, please,” 
“What did you mean? Just tell me,” He begged, his cadence wary, the sound of it flushing her entire chest with a heat she’d never known. She swore she was going into cardiac arrest, her heartbeat was in her throat, and it made it difficult to swallow, let alone push him away, “Do you know something?”
Her breaths were deep, begging her chest to behave as it damn near spun her vision into dizziness. He was just a man. He was just a boy. How could he have so much control over her entire body when he had barely even touched her? When he had just asked her one tiny little question? 
It was unethical, how her stomach rippled with butterflies the second she dared to look at his hazel eyes, round and intense where they never left her face. It should have been illegal for begging to look so good on him. 
She took a sigh, shaking her head and looking back to his mismatched socks, chuckling bitterly, and putting her head in her hands. She couldn’t escape from this, her only defence mechanism was to curl into herself like an armadillo against a predator, her attacker being the god's honest truth that he was owed years ago. 
“I really,” She cleared her throat, her eyes starting to burn with unshed tears, “I really messed things up with you,” 
“What?” Spencer’s hot hands wrapped around her wrists, pulling them away from her face so he could hear her every word clearly, “I thought we were okay now, I thought we were friends again,”
She laughed emptily, her bottom lip quivering, her hands shaking under his touch. He was so warm, he always had been, but it felt as if he was everywhere when he was only really touching the skin of her pulsepoint. She hoped he couldn’t feel just how it beat for him, beat so loud and fast all for him. 
“That’s the problem,” She whispered, her glassy eyes meeting his as she gave an unsure breath, gulping loudly. It was like he stared right at her soul, and pleaded it to speak to him. And she had never been able to say no to him, not when he looked like that, “When I came back from London, I came back to tell you that…” 
She breathed again, because she felt like she was holding it while she confessed, she knew it was no wonder she felt so dizzy, but she couldn’t look away from him, where his face was morphing into realisation. 
“I came to tell you that.. I-I’m in love with you, Spencer,” A single tear dribbled down her cheek, but he let go of her hands quickly to catch it, his lips pressing together in a silenced word, most like ‘oh’. His brows quirked above his nose, his eyes turning into devastation as soon as she’d said it. But it was out there now, so there was no use in trying to keep it in anymore. “I have been, for a while I think, and I wanted to tell you because I thought you might-might-” She gulped, the finger that had brushed the first tear stroking down until it rested under her jaw, the feeling of it damn near making her whine, “I don’t know, I just hoped you would feel anything back- but you don’t have to say anything, I know you’re hurting and so I just kept it in, but every time I see you I feel like I’m choking and I don’t know how to make it stop-”
“Tell me you’re lying,” Spencer said with a biting tone, his eyes honey comb gold and glistening when he looked at her. It couldn’t be true. He never got this lucky. It couldn’t be, he refused-
She shook her head frantically, her eyes pleading and wet, “Never, Spencer. I would never lie to you. I’m sorry if I’ve upset you- I know you’re hurting, I know you’re grieving and I shouldn’t have assumed-“
“I love you too,” He whispered, and it was like her words came to fruition as her voice was robbed, the air leaving her lungs. Her jaw dropped, her wet eyes boring into his chest, his hands skirting up to hold her face in his hands, thumbs stroking over her tear ladened skin, “God, Bug, I’ve loved you for so long, I thought you didn’t want anything like that after that kiss-”
Her expression dropped, eyebrows scrunching together, “What kiss?” 
He blanked, for once speechless. Only the kiss he’d torn himself to pieces over for weeks and weeks. “The night- that Derek brought you over when you’d had…” He trailed off, wanting to throttle himself for how dumb he’d been in retrospect, “When you’d had the Molly,” 
Her hand slapped over her mouth, his own hands flying to palm at his eyes, because how could he be so incredibly stupid. Ecstasy was a memory suppressant. He knew, he knew better than most, that taking recreational drugs like that robbed you of even the most life shattering moments. 
She didn’t remember. How could she? She was so out of it she could barely walk without stumbling over a flat surface. And instead of asking her, instead of simply growing a pair and seeing what she remembered, he’d gotten a girlfriend.
This was all wrong. This was so wrong. The guilt from Maeve dying was a wound that had cut him deep, and yet having Bugsy in his arms so placid and warm and adoring was a salve he had never dreamed would feel so numbing.
“We kissed?” She asked, her eyes blazing with embarrassment, her hand running through her hair in shock horror, “I don’t- how don’t I remember that- that’s all I dreamed of for months-” 
“Technically you kissed me,” He explained, despite the fact his cheeks had set on fire hearing her confess even the smallest bit more to him. She loved him. She was in love with him. She had been for months, she said. She loved him. “It would have been wrong if I did anything even if it was all I’d thought of too. And I just thought, because you never mentioned it, that you didn’t want to remember it at all,” 
He felt like he’d taken some sort of truth serum, like he should shut himself up any second now because he was spilling his longest kept secret to the one person who should have never been privy to it. But it was okay if she knew. Because she loved him.
She looked at him, and he swore he’d never seen eyes so beautiful, but then he’d always loved her eyes. But the way they looked at him, as if he’d had a bag pulled from over his head, or his glasses had been given the correct prescription, because it was like he suddenly saw just how adoring she looked when she watched him like that. 
And despite herself, she laughed. 
It was girlish, and carefree, and happy. So, so happy. And he started laughing too. She fell into his chest, her face hot with embarrassment, and he wrapped his arms around her, feeling her giggling into his shirt, shaking her head. 
“We’re so fucking stupid,” She said, and it was mumbled, and the sound of it made him smile wider.
“I’m a stupid, stupid man. I’m so sorry, Bug,” He replied, his large hand stroking down the back of her hair though a sour taste crawled up his throat. 
He still owed Maeve that dance. Just as he’d told Rossi. Who had told Bugsy, because he knew she had some magic way of getting her way with everyone.
She pulled away, her eyes young and so incredibly pretty when she smiled at him like that. Sensing his hesitation, she tried to pull away from his embrace, worried like it was second nature to her by now that she’d overstepped. Only he didn’t let her. He kept his hand at the back of her head, one under her arm to pin her close to his body, because he wasn’t going to be stupid enough to let her go twice. 
“You said you tried to tell me when you got back from London?” He said softly, and she nodded, like her confession had taken everything out of her, “But then when you got here… I was with Maeve,” 
She swallowed, worried where he was going, and nodded again wordlessly. 
He chewed the inside of his lip, taking a deep breath for courage, “I’m still- I feel terrible if-”
“You can still grieve, Spencer,” She cut him off, knowing what he was struggling to say, and his eyes crawled back up to meet her gaze, “It’s not heinous to need time to think, I know it’s a lot to ask, I never expected you to-”
He cut her off with a kiss to the apple of her cheek, warm and angelic, the feeling of it forcing her mouth shut, because she worried she might just whimper in delight if she didn’t. Her hand flew up to his forearm that moved around to cup neatly under her ear, his fingers weaving into her hair as he kissed again down near her jaw, her eyes fluttering shut. And when she thought it was done, when she thought her luck was spent, he kissed her again, on the cusp of her lips, a ghost breath slipping from a parted mouth, because she thought she might have just died and gone to heaven. 
“Bugsy, I love you,” Spencer said, and her heart felt full, so full her eyes welled up all over again because it was everything she had ever wanted, “I just need a little time,”
Her eyelids flicked open, and the bliss written over her face took a knock, her head reeling back like he’d burned her. But, as before, he didn’t let her go, He refused to let her run away again. Not when he had everything he wanted, “That’s not a ‘no’. It’s just a very stupid man who has loved you for longer than you’d know hoping on everything that you’ll be willing to give me a month or two. I want to do this right, you deserve to have this done right, and I want to give you only the best version of myself,” 
Spencer’s heart pounded against his slender ribcage as he waited for her response, because he knew he was pushing his luck. But he’d meant every word of it, and he figured if he had any chance at being the guy he’d always told himself she needed, he’d need to be honest with her. They’d need to be honest with each other.
But she smiled at him, sweet and besotted beneath his palm, and he didn’t know why he’d ever doubted her. 
“I waited six years, what’s a few months on top of that?” She smirked, her face glowing when he pressed another gentle kiss to her forehead, and he felt how hot her blood ran under his touch. He hoped she couldn’t feel how his did the same. 
“I promise. Just a few more months, bug,”
And he meant it. With everything in him, Spencer meant it. He wouldn’t let her go ever again. 
--
TAGLIST:
@release-your-sweets @smileykiddie08 @caramelised-onions. @the-tpd-bau @stephthepeach @sunflowersndpeaches s @sammy-4103 @starmansirius @yeonalie @delusionallooney @hades-disappointment-child @sadbae-33 @mdanon027 @swag13r @frickin-bats @bilesxbilinskixlahey @mindfullycriminal @mrsbellastyles @nilopillo @imagines--galore @bluejaysaysstuff @imaginexred @flow33didontsmoke @spicyspirit @mywellspringoflife @lovelyygirl8 @pleasantwitchgarden @star-girl-interlud3 @rosylnsworld @jamieolivia27 @halcyonwithletters @waywardhunter95 @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist @theoraekenslover @niktwazny303 @bliindmattmurdock @alyeskathewave @littlemadamred @yondiii @cultish-corner @lllucere @escapismurmom @stillhere197 @hiireadstuff @amortencjja @queermaxwooo @telengraph @ivyflowers13 @estrela-rogers @greenvita @busy-buzzing @kitty-kei @universallyblizzardlove @suckstobrlaurie
785 notes · View notes
vivwritesfics · 6 months
Text
(Oh My God) They Were Roommates
Chapter Six - Netflix and...
Lando Norris and Y/N L/N were teammates. Tension had been between from the minute they started driving together and, when it only got worse, McLaren CEO Zac Brown decides there's only one solution: Have them live together.
1.2K
Warnings: Smut, eating out, fingering, lingerie
Series Masterlist
Tumblr media
The package arrived on a Wednesday. The delivery driver left placed the box outside of their door and knocked before walking away, leaving it there.
Lando opened the door. He looked down at the package, at the name written on the top of the box, and brought it inside. There was nothing he had to be suspicious about with the box as he left it outside of his roommates bedroom.
"Package!" He shouted as he knocked on her bedroom door.
Y/N waited for him to walk away before she opened the door and pulled the box inside. She shut the door and placed the box on the bed, using a pair of scissors to open it.
Inside of that package were several smaller packages. There were see through bags full of lingerie and more. Sex toys, new vibrators and a dildo. It wasn't her that ordered it, it was her friend. It was her solution for the 'Lando Problem' as they had started calling it.
She tried on a new set of lingerie, keeping it on as she pulled on her pyjama shorts and hoodie once again. Y/N pushed the box under her bed and left her room.
Knocking on Lando's bedroom door, she waited for permission to walk in. Lando shouted a 'come in!' and Y/N walked in, leaning against the doorframe.
Things had been incredibly uncomfortable since she had sucked him off. She was avoiding him once again, eating late at night and ducking out for training when Lando was gaming or streaming, door to his bedroom shut.
But she was done with that now. She wanted his attention now.
Lando didn't look away from his game, from fifa, as she began speaking to him. "Wanna watch a movie?" She asked, his voice somewhat sweet.
"Sure," Lando answered as his players ran down the pitch. But then he kept talking, just not to her. Y/N stayed in the room as she listened to him, tried to work out what was happening, who he was talking to. So, she pulled his headset from his head and placed it on her own.
Max Verstappens voice came through, loud and clear. "Oh, hey Max," she said as she watched them play.
"Oh my god it's Y/N," Max said, sounding surprised. "I completely forgot you lived together. Can you give me back to Lando?"
She placed the headset back on Lando's head and walked out of the room. She got herself something to drink and settled on the sofa, television on in front of her while she waited for Lando.
Maybe he was making a point, making her wait like that. But Y/N sat on the sofa, covered up by a blanket with the television on. Lando made her wait for half an hour before he emerged from his room.
"What're we watching?" He asked as he sat beside her.
She shrugged her shoulders and turned on the first movie she came to on Netflix. It didn't have to be good; they hopefully weren't going to be watching it for very long.
Ten minutes into the video, Y/N threw off her blanket, muttering something about being too hot. Her loose shorts had ridden up, revealing the lace beneath.
He didn't notice it at first. When he looked down at his phone he spotted the lacy blue beneath the grey of her shorts. Suddenly Lando couldn't look away, couldn't pull his eyes away from it.
Y/N was hyper aware of it, of the way he was staring at her lingerie. Her fingers wrapped around the waistband of her shorts and pulled them up slightly, showing off more.
Suddenly Lando looked up, meeting her gaze. He breathed in, refusing to pull his eyes away. She bit her lip as she grabbed the hem of her hoodie and pulled it up over her head. When she threw it to the side and looked at him again, he was still staring at her.
His eyes travelled down for just a second, but they quickly returned to her face. "Take the shorts off," he said and Y/N stood up. She pushed the shorts down her legs, letting them fall to the floor.
Lando didn't hesitate to reach towards her, his hands settling on her waist as he pulled her closer. He looked at her face, into her eyes as his fingers danced under the waistband of her panties, hands still holding her hips.
"Are you okay with this?" He asked, mirroring what she had said to him just days before.
She nodded her head and Lando withdrew his hands. He felt her through her panties, felt just how wet she was. He couldn't hide his grin as he pulled down her panties, let her step out of them and put them in his pocket.
He looked at her as he took her leg and placed it on the sofa. Still looking into her eyes he kissed the inside of her leg. She could have melted into a puddle then and there. The way he was looking at her as he kissed her thigh was too sweet, too loving for what was about to happen.
He kissed her again, closer to where she needed him. "Lan," she squeaked, reaching for his hair.
Lando gave her a sly grin before he dove in, licking and sucking at her skin. He pushed his tongue through her folds and she let out an almighty moan, her head thrown back as her fingers laced through his brown strands of hair.
Lando took this as an encouraging sign and kept going. He had his arms wrapped around her, hands holding her ass in a way that suggested he was trying to pull her closer.
"Holy fuck, Lan!" She cried as he sucked on her clit. The feeling was euphoric, her legs shaking as he brought her closer to the edge.
His attention moved to her hole. He licked over it, letting go of her ass to bring her fingers up to her.
He ran his fingers through her folds, gathering a mixture of his spit and her slick. Lando made sure he was looking down at her as he put his fingers into his mouth, licking her off of his skin. It was a taste he'd never get bored of.
He sucked her clit again as he pushed his fingers through her folds, pushing his finger inside of her. She suddenly pushed against him, grinding down onto his hand.
Lando sat back and let her work. "Another," she rasped and Lando added a second finger. She only rode him harder, bringing herself to a shaking orgasm.
He kept her going through her orgasm, letting her ride it out. When she was finished, Lando pulled away from her. He kept a hold of her ass, pulling her on top of his lap.
Lando brushed her hair away from her face. Her chest was heaving as she sat on top of him, facing him with her arms wrapped around his neck.
She leaned in closer, testing the waters as he went to kiss him.
Lando kissed her back with desperation.
Taglist (CLOSED): @biancathecool @hollie911 @topguncultleader @annispamz @carlossainzwho @spideybv28 @wherethefuckisthething @fangirl125reader @minkyungseokie @marialovesf1 @kitixie @i-wish-this-was-me @bborra @formula1mount @charlotte1697 @formulaal @eviethetheatrefreak @lordpercivalcharles @venisvendetta @marie0v @tbsloneely @laur20a23 @formulas-bitch @cmleitora @marvelavengers000 @gills-lounge @andydrysdalerogers @demipatterns @holy-macncheese-balls @jule239 @aexitizen-ln4 @landosgirlxoxo @allinestarr @starmanv @st0rmzi3 @random-human02 @nocoolusernamesavailable-blog @happymeal777 @ashy-kit @juniper-july19 @im-an-overthinker @haylenxx @kapsylia @prettiest-at-the-party @urfavnoirette @norassimpingzone @thehufflepuffavenger1 @taintet @amorydsmt @hi00000234567 @iamkaku @maxv33rstappen @noneofyourfbusinessworld @thatsusbitch @izzy-marvel @carqueensworld
894 notes · View notes
ragingbookdragon · 1 month
Text
It’s an incessant knocking that pulls him from the fragile sleep he’s managed to get himself into, barely tugging on the balaclava before he opens the door, damn the risks, if someone wants to kill him at his own front door, he’ll let them. That is until he cracks the metal door from the frame and sees her standing there in her nightclothes, tear-streaked face in the cool Birmingham night.
He opens the door for her. “What are you doing here? Where are the children?”
“Left them with Denise.”
Denise. The only babysitter he approved of to watch his newborn daughter and six-year-old son.
“What’s going—”
She isn’t even two steps inside the apartment and she’s falling into his arms, dry sobs escaping her throat as she cries, “He’s gone, Simon. He’s gone.”
His eyes widen, she’s just now finally coming to terms with the fact that she buried her husband two days ago. Once a proud army wife, now a frenzied, exhausted widow, unsure how to raise two children by herself and go on.
“He’s gone. John’s—oh God, Simon, he’s dead.” She stares at him wide-eyed and gutted. “My John, he’s, he’s gone.” She cried out all her tears a few days ago when they first showed up at her door, and he watches as she raises her hands to her face, fingers caged around the sides of it as she sobs, “He’s gone, Simon. What am I going to do?” She’s working herself into a grief-driven anxiety attack. “What am I gonna do? How am I going to raise our—our children, oh, Simon, she’ll never know him.”
Tears finally come to her eyes, and she stares up at him in his arms.
“My sweet Morrigan will never know him,” she whimpers. “Oh, my sweet girl. She’ll never know how much he loved her.”
“She does,” he says, and he takes her chin in her hand. “Now you’ve gotta stop this. You can’t do this. You have to get it together.”
“But he—”
“Johnny’s dead. But your children need you. JJ and Morrigan need you.” It’s harsh but it dries up her tears as she stares at him with a pitiful look.
“I can’t do this alone,” she whispers. “I need him. He…John made it better. He always made it better. Without him…” she gazes at him. “What am I supposed to do, Simon? I’m all alone.”
“You’re a fool to believe that,” he replies and pulls her close; he misses his best friend too, unable to stop the tears that come to his eyes. He inhales shakily, feeling dampness grow in his sweatshirt, remembers how he had to sit down and explain to little JJ that his dad was gone. How he made a six-year-old boy promise to be strong and be the man of his home and watch his sister and mum, while the child in Simon was grieving the exact same thing.
“I’ve got you,” he whispers into her hair. “C’mon love, I got you,” he says, holding her tight as she breaks down into sobs again.
***
It’s horrible. His best friend hasn’t even been dead for a week and already Simon can’t help but feel his heart yearn for her. It’s a little cliché, laying the sleeping widow in his bed, smoothing her hair as be bends down and kisses her forehead. There’s something about the way her tear-stained cheeks glisten in the moonlight but he looks away and grabs the pillow from the other side of the bed and a blanket from the closet before he lays out on the floor beside her. Her hand falls over the side of the bed, and damn Simon’s soul, forgive me, Johnny, he props his elbow up and takes her hand, gently squeezing it in his large one, feeling her faintly squeeze back.
Strongest soldier you’ll ever meet, tough as nails, hard as steel.
But at Simon’s core, he is, a weak, weak man.
466 notes · View notes
rainylana · 3 months
Text
“I don’t like dresses, Eddie.”
Eddie Munson x female reader
summary: some sweet fluff at the trailer with eddie. reader is six months pregnant, so much fluff it may actually kill you, so sweet and precious, smut, vaginal fingering, decrophylia, mentions of max’s death and the battle with vecna, eddie’s self doubt of being a good provider, maybe some language, eddie and reader purposely call their baby by different genders it’s not an error lmao. enjoy!! requests always open just have a lot of works in progress i’m trying to get out there!! also! please let me know if the “read more” tag is working!!
Tumblr media
My feet are huge, Eddie.” You said matter of factly, staring at your bare, swollen feet. “I can barely fit into shoes anymore.”
Eddie chuckled, stirring the instant ramen as he put it back in the microwave. “I’ll buy you a size up.”
“But they’re so…so big! I’m so big!” You exclaim, hugging your pregnant belly. “I’m so fat!”
“Y/n,” Eddie said, giving you a pointed look. “What I tell you about that? Stop being so negative about the way you look. It’s not good for you. You’re hot.”
Your cheeks burned in embarrassment, fiddling with your fingers. “You have to admit it though.” You argued. “My feet are huge.”
He rolled his eyes, sticking out his socked foot dramatically. “Well, what about mine! They’re twice the size of yours!”
You giggle, covering your mouth with your hand. “I guess so. You’ve got man feet.”
He scoffed. “I am a man, baby.” The thirty second timer of his soup went off, but he paid no mind, making his way over to you. He got on his knees in front of you, grabbing your foot and kissing your freshly painted, hot pink, big toe. “I love you and your big feet, baby.”
You smiled, your heart fluttering at the sweet gesture.
“And,” He pointed at your belly. “I love this baby, too.” He kissed your six month pregnant stomach, patting it lightly. “Hi, baby Munson! Can you hear me? It’s daddy! Daddy’s here!”
You watched him caress your belly, tapping it, humming a new song he was working on, telling it about his work day. You could watch it all day long. You couldn’t wait to meet your baby. You and Eddie had decided to wait to see what the gender was, but it was getting to be harder than what you anticipated.
“God, I’m so excited.” Eddie sighed happily, resting his cheek on your thigh. “I can’t wait to meet him.”
Him. Eddie was sure it was a boy.
You? You didn’t care which, as long as she was happy and healthy.
“I know.” You said quietly, your hand over his that laid above your navel. “Only three more months.”
He practically squealed, gathering himself off the ground to sit beside you. He grabbed you by the shoulders softly, turning you around so your back was to him. You sighed happily when he began massaging your shoulders, his thumbs working circles into your sore muscles.
“Oh, god.” You moaned, eyes closed in relief.
“Careful, darlin’.” He smirked, leaning into your ear. “Last time you said that you got pregnant.”
You hadn’t meant to get knocked up. That was the last thing you both had wanted, at the time, anyways. Now, it was the only thing you wanted more than anything in the entire universe. The two year mark of vecna was approaching, and after two years of the trauma you both endured, healed injuries and broken souls, the loss of your dear friend, Max, you both could finally say that you were traveling down hill now. You missed Max. You knew she’d be so happy to hear about the both of you becoming parents.
You remembered the day you had taken the pregnancy test. All 14 of them. You’d blown half of your paycheck on them, needing to be sure. You’d cried on the bathroom floor where he had found you that evening. You didn’t need to say anything, yet you did, watching as he stared at the positive pregnancy tests on the counter. “I’m pregnant.” You had spoken over a tearful whisper.
It was one of his most shameful moments, but Eddie had left you that night on your own, not able to process the idea of becoming a father. Wayne had smacked him upside the head when he showed up to his trailer, confessing the news. “Boy, get your ass outta my house and back you yer’ girl.” His uncle had said.
“Feel good, baby?” Eddie said, kissing your clothed shoulder as he rubbed up and down your spine, going back up to the base of your neck.
“Mmm.” You hummed in response. “Me and baby are happy.”
He smirked, eyes starting to droop with tiredness from his long work day. “I hope so.”
You opened your eyes then, noticing the self doubt in his voice that you came to recognize early on in your relationship. Next month will be four years. You craned your neck to try and see him. “I am, Eddie.” You lifted your hand up to grab his, resting them against your shoulder. “So will the baby.”
He squeezed your fingers. “I should get you a better house. We need a safer neighborhood for him.”
“We’ll protect her.” You didn’t let go of his hand, spinning yourself against the leather cushion to face him. “And I love this house. It’s our home.”
“I could buy you pretty dresses.” He frowned, pulling at the string of your pajama pants.
“I don’t like dresses, Eddie.” You laughed, gathering his face in your hands and giving him a kiss on the cheek. “God, you’re so cute. You’re so good to me.”
His cheeks flushed red under your touch, placing his hand on your fuzzy pj’s. “You’re good to me, baby. My two babies. I love you both so much.” The heat of the precious moment took him over and he found his lips on yours in seconds. Hot, plump and pink and all over each other’s, his thick palm coming up to hold your cheek.
He kissed you like you were the only woman left in the world, a hunger behind each swipe of his tongue that begged to be fed. You opened your mouth and accepted, teeth scrapping teeth in a make out session that was just plain dirty. He was always so paranoid about having sex at first, wondering if it would hurt the baby. You were too, until your doctor assured you there was no danger at risk.
“Let me feel you, baby.” He said hotly against your wet mouth, hand traveling down your cheek to your shoulder, down your arm and to your hip. “Let me make my girl feel good.”
You whined when his hand cupped your mound with a full palm, breaking apart the kiss in surprise. He rubbed you over your pajama’s, your body leaning into him, rocking against his hand to gain some more friction that just wasn’t doing the job.
You grabbed his hand, pulling down your pants to your knees, placing him back down to your bare pussy. You found his mouth again, his fingers running up your slick with a full swipe, collecting your wetness that made his hand sticky.
“You want me to touch you, honey?” He gently gathered you close, leaning you back to you could lay on the leather sofa. “Tell me what you want, pretty baby.”
The teasing made you hot and lightheaded, the throbbing between your legs created a burning sensation that ached to be cooled. “Please, Eddie,” You arched into his hand. “Touch me. Fuck me with your fingers.”
He practically groaned, the strain in his boxers rubbing against your thigh. He leaned down and placed a full, deep kiss on your lips, entering two fingers into your cunt. He plunged them deep inside, curling them in one go, before pulling out and repeating the movement.
The sudden sensation had you crying out, back arched and mouth ajar. Eddie hovered over your stomach, one hand inside you, the other holding himself up so he didn’t put pressure on your belly. He lifted his chin at you, eyes dark and sparking with a mischievous glare. “Yeah?”
You sobbed, writhing underneath as he finger fucked your pussy, a third ring finger now plunging in and out of you. The sound of your squelching arousal filled his ears, his pre cum darkening a patch of his jeans. It wasn’t the first time he’d cum in his pants just from fingering you.
“Oh, God,” Your legs were split apart, cunt on full display for him. He looked down, watching as his fingers disappeared in and out of you. Your face was best red, sweat fell down your cheeks and tears fell down your sticky skin.
“I’m so close, Eddie.” You shook underneath him.
“Mhmm.” He nodded, his thumb lazily swiping at your clit, not enough to make the coil in your belly snap. “You gonna cum for me, sweetheart? You want me to make you cum all over my fingers?”
“Yes, yes!” You reeled your head back and pleaded to him, to god.
Eddie leaned down, spit on your puffy, red and swollen clit, and wrapped his plump lips around your sexual nerve, puckering and sucking like his life depending on it. It wasn’t long then, and you were squeezing his fingers and shaking, convulsing underneath him.
He fingered you through your orgasm, admiring your beauty as laid there and cried.
675 notes · View notes
thevoidstaredback · 2 months
Text
How To Balance Your Daytime and Nighttime Activities So That You Don't Burn Yourself Out More Than You Already Have
Waking up to a clean apartment was not what Dick was expecting at all. It was a nice surprise, for sure, but it begged the question as to how long he was asleep for. His phone said that it was the same day, only two hours later, but that state of the apartment suggested it had been at least a day!
He poked his head into the room he'd given Danny to stay in. The kid had ignored the bed almost completely, it seemed, and curled up in the corner furthest from the door with the blanket and his bag. He closed the door softly as he left the room. He hated that Danny didn't feel safe enough to sleep on the bed, but he understood the need to have his back to a corner.
Dick took one look at the shopping list on the counter before opening his fridge. Immediately, he closed it again. The rancid stench of spoiled milk and other foodstuffs seeped into the open room, making Dick rush to open the windows. He added candles and Febreeze to the shopping list. With his pay, he should have more than enough to get everything written down, as well as some things for Danny.
Would Danny want to go to school? Or would he want to take online courses? What grade would he even be in? There was nothing about any of that in the cover story the kid had made up. Did he just not think about it, or had he deemed it unimportant? Either way, Dick would bring it up with him in a little bit. For now, shopping. The kid had done a hell of a job with cleaning up, so it was only natural that Dick would pull his weight in his own apartment.
Making sure to leave a note, Dick locked the door behind himself as he headed down, mentally adding fridge magnets to the shopping list, too.
***
Stepping back into the apartment was like walking into someone else's home. The place looked no different than when he'd left earlier, but it was only just now settling that he now had someone to take care of. Dick was no longer alone in this apartment. He had someone to look out for, someone who was looking out for him.
And how pathetic was that? A child was having to take care of him. He's an adult! He should be able to take care of himself! But, here he is, hopeless. He hadn't even bothered to get off his ass and go shopping or clean up a little bit until a kid knocked on his door and spelled everything out for him in blue glitter pen.
Dick set down the six bags he was carrying on the counter. He completely emptied out the fridge and freezer, throwing it all away. It all had to go. The smell would linger for a little bit, but it wouldn't ever get that bad again, especially now that the stuff causing it was all gone. He quickly put everything away before picking up his phone.
He hadn't called the Manor in a while. Not since- not since Jason died...
He shook his head, scolding himself for letting irrational fear and anger get in the way of contacting the only family he had left, and called Wayne Manor.
After exactly two and a half rings, the line picked up. "Wayne Manor, Alfred Pennyworth speaking."
"Hey, Alfie," Dick knew he sounded pathetic.
There was..something on the other end that Dick couldn't quite pick up before Alfred spoke, formalities dropped and a smile in his voice. "Master Dick, how good to hear from you. It has been a while."
He leaned against the counter, sagging a bit. "Yeah, it has been. I'm sorry, Alfred, I just-"
"No need to apologize, Master Dick, I completely understand."
Did he? Maybe. "That's- Thank you, Alfred, really, but I didn't really call to apologize."
"Oh?" There was another sound in the background, a little closer to the phone, but not close or loud enough to be clearly picked up. "What seems to be the issue, then?"
"I, um," God, how was he going to explain this? "A kid showed up at my door, um, and offered to help me out? I-I couldn't say no to him, Alfe, but- I don't! I-I don't know how to take care of a kid!" The floodgates seemed to open with that as he sank to the floor, his back against the wall. "I can barely take care of myself, let alone a whole other person! But I can't put him back on the streets, Alfred, I just can't. And the things he's been telling me- He's not had an okay life, Alfred. I don't- I don't know what to do."
It was quiet for a moment before Alfred let out a small breath. "You, too?"
"Huh?"
THe question was ignored. "Take a deep breath for me, Master Dick." He did. "Good. This child, how old is he?"
"I don't know, about fourteen?"
A click of his tongue. "Taking care of a child is going to look different for everyone, especially if they've never had to care for anyone but themselves before. From what I understand, he has come to you for safety. He has nowhere else to go, yes?"
"Well, yeah, other than the streets, but I'm not sending him back out there-!"
"I'm not telling you to. If he came to you, he will leave of his own accord. It is your job to make sure he knows he can stay and that he is safe with you."
"I know that, but-"
"Do you have food in your house?"
"I- What? Yeah, I just got back from shopping."
"Good. Is your house clean?"
"Yeah, he, um, the kid cleaned up the place while I was asleep."
"Alright. Does he have a place to sleep?"
"Yeah, I gave him my spare room. What does this-?"
"Then the only thing left for you to do is to make sure he knows he's allowed to be comfortable there. Make sure he knows that it is a safe space for him and that he can stay as long as he likes. From the sounds of it, he intends to take care of you just as you intend to take care of him. Find a middle ground, set up some house rules, go at a pace that works for the both of you. You two will grow into a routine that fits for you in time. And it will take time. Bonds do not grow overnight, especially ones that are meant to last. It will be hard, but that is what makes it worth it."
Dick was quiet for a minute. Alfred let him gather his thoughts, not hanging up and simply waiting. Finally, "Thanks, Alfred."
"You are most welcome, Master Dick." The old man was smiling again. "Oh, aster Dick?"
"Yeah?"
"When you two are more comfortable, please come by the Manor."
Dick smiled, too. "I will. And I'll try to call more often."
"That's all I ask. Have a good day, Master Dick.
"Thanks, Alfred, you, too."
Part 5 Part 7
Tag List: @flame-343 @ghestie93 @anarinette @aglmry @peachtreewriter @evix-syne666 @loudlypanickinginvenezolano @lumosfeather18581 @blueliac @talia-scar123 @cyber-geist @violet-foxe @currentfandomkick
460 notes · View notes
skylarsblue · 1 year
Text
✦Incorrect C.o.D Quotes, AGAIN AGAIN✦
Ghost: Release me, woman. Fem!Y/N: …. *hugs him tighter* :3 Ghost, scared of intimacy: UNHAND ME!- -- (Comedic Death Mention) Someone: I shot you six times hOW ARE YOU ALIVE?! Y/N: Fool! The only one that’s gonna knock me off is ME! Price: *PANICKING*
-- Gaz: What did you do? Soap: ….suckdickonaccident Gaz: What? Soap: Sucked dick on accident! Gaz: HOW THE FUCK DO YOU SU-
-- Gaz: Here. We’ll put your phone on the aux- Y/N: NO DON’T- Speakers on full volume: FUCKFUCKFUCKMEUPANDCUTCUTCU- Price: JESUS BLOODY CHRIST *shuts off radio* Soap: *scratching the inside of his ear* Steamin’ Jesus- Y/N: I tried to warn you! Gaz: Who listens to Slipknot at 0900?! Ghost: *raises hand* Gaz: That’s- okay that’s fair. Soap: I’ve gone deaf. Y/N: You’re a bomb tech, it was gonna happen eventually. Soap: *middle finger* Price: *disappointed sigh* It’s too early for this-
-- (This one’s kinda sad but I couldn't stop thinkin' bout it-) Alejandro: You used to be nice…or did you never used to be? Valeria: … Alejandro: Oh god…maybe you never used to be…
-- Not a quote but if any of you have heard that audio that’s the names of the Princes of Hell overlayed on Funky Town, please imagine Soap & Y/N dancing to the Funky Town portion while Ghost sits there menacingly. Thank you.
-- (Depression joke) Y/N: Ahaaaa I’m soooo unwell. Price: Go to the psyche- Y/N: Ya know what it never was? That serious. It was never that serious- Price: Get your ass back here- Y/N: NEVER!-
-- König: I’ll keep all my emotions right here, and then one day, I’ll die. Horangi: No-
-- (Valeria has no color here, I ran out) Valeria: *eye roll* I am not trying to seduce you. Y/N, bi panicking: …. Valeria, but now smug: Would you like me to seduce you? Y/N: *strained wheeze & squeaky* Already achieved ma’am- Gaz: *listening to a mic implanted on Y/N* God damnit dON’T LET YOUR MOMMY ISSUES RUIN THIS MISSION!
-- (These next two have mental health jokes in’em) Y/N, hyper cleaning the base: AHAHA, yes! I’m finally feeling bett- ah, wait. I’m manic, and I’m hyper cleaning everything, ✨as a diversion✨. Price: P s y c h e . Y/N: Jokes on you, old man. I already have meds for this! …might need to up them though they feel like they’ve stopped working. Price: When did you start to feel they weren’t working? Y/N: Like three months ago. Price: PSYCHE Y/N: ASKING THEM QUESTIONS ABOUT MEDS ARE SCAAAARRYYY Price: YOU KILL MEN ALMOST EVERYDAY Y/N: Fair point. (Take ya meds)
-- Price: I don’t understand you- Y/N: Good! Means you’re probably mentally well. Price: I- Gaz: We really need to like- specify when you’re joking and when you’re serious, you’re gonna give him a heart attack.
-- Gaz: …Hm. Price: You’ve been staring at me for the past six minutes, what is it?Gaz: I think you have a grey hair. Price: Y/N, speeding in: WHICH IS TOTALLY FINE, IT’S BARELY EVEN THERE AND EVEN IF YOU WERE GOING GREY IT’D LOOK FANTASTIC ON YOU. Price: …would it? Y/N: Absolutely! …*thumps Gaz in the back of the head* Gaz: Ow-Uh yeah! Yeah! Actually I don’t even think it’s there, just the lighting. Price: Hm…alright. Y/N: Mhm! *death glare* Gaz: *mouthing* I’msosorry-
-- (Will someone please notice that I write Ghost as "Simon" when he's with Soap and they're being soft? It's intentional-) Soap: I’m not really sure what I’d do if I lost you… Simon: I know what I’d do. Soap: What? Simon: I’d find you.
-- Soap: I got my ankles microwaved. Ghost: X-rayed. Soap: They took my blood away for science! Ghost: Cholesterol tests. Soap: Si had his sinuses…removed? Ghost: Looked at. Soap: Some guy looked at my penis, touched it. That was weird. Ghost, cleaning blood off a knife: That guy wasn’t even a doctor.
-- Medic!Y/N: You think killing is hard? Try healing something. That is hard, that requires patience. Alejandro, watching them bandage his hand: Hm… Medic!Y/N: You can break something in two seconds. *vaguely motions to Ghost, then Price, then at a necklace Alejandro wears that came from Valeria* But it can take forever to fix it. Alejandro: …aye…well said.
-- Gaz: *being annoying and singing a song for the 10,000th time* Price: KYLE! Gaz: I’m watchin’ my tone, dunana. I ain’t talkin’ back, no, why? Cause I’ma get thrown, dunana-
-- Graves: You know, Ghost, real talk bro, you never say nothin’ when you’re around us. Why is that? Ghost: Cause I don’t fucking like you guys.
-- Enemy: I’m gonna send you to God. Y/N: God? I’m insulted you think I’d end up in Heaven. I work hard for my sins, thank you very much. Ghost: We are hostages right now, can you please not-
-- Valeria: And guess who gets to be my little helper.~ Y/N: It’s me, I’m the helper… Valeria: That’s right, you sure are.~ Alejandro: Alright that’s enough! Valeria: What? You don’t believe in positive affirmation?
-- Rudy: Me gustan los perros. Alejandro: Me gustas… Rudy: ….hm. Me gusta un hombre en el ejército. Alejandro: Aye? Rudy: Mhm. Alejandro: *chuckles* Me gusta mi mejor amigo. Rudy: Me gustas.
(This was poorly translated but listen, I tried for the gays)
-- Price: You actually were telling the truth. Valeria: I do that quite a lot, you people are always surprised.
-- Laswell: Don’t pull any of those stunts like you did last time. Fem!Y/N: I made an offering. Laswell: You dropped a dead mouse into that poor man’s lap. Fem!Y/N: Yes! Like a cat. Laswell: You are not a cat! Fem:Y/N: No…tragically, I am a woman.
-- Ghost: Some people are simply…better than others. Graves: You really think you’re that much better than me? Ghost: Oh I think we both know the answer to that.
--
(Needing to fake a date for a mission) Y/N, on the phone: Laswell, I don’t need help with dating. I’ve been on loads of dates! Y/N: *turns and whispers to Gaz* I’ve literally been on one.
-- Enemy: Think you can answer questions without the usual level of sarcasm? Y/N: If you can ask them without the usual level of stupid. Enemy: Where’s your captain and why hasn’t anyone been able to contact him? Y/N: I dunno, I’ve been here, haven’t seen him in days. Enemy: Is he drinking again? Y/N: What do you mean again? He never had to stop. Enemy: But he did have to slow down, is he drinking like he used to? Y/N: Alright, how bout this? Next time I see him, I’ll give’im the field sobriety test, okay? We’ll do the alphabet, start with F & end with U.
-- Graves: And that’s why I personally, don’t agree with your opinion. Soap: Okay, counter point- Graves: Valid argument? Soap: No. Pipebomb!
-- Gaz: Y/N: Gaz: Y/N: Y/N: I’ma instigate. Gaz, lightly pulling them back: nnnnoooooooooo-
-- Y/N: Eeraaawr >:3 Gaz: What sound is that? Y/N: A dyianosaur Gaz: A what? Y/N: Dianoswaur. Gaz: Make the sound again. Y/N: Uurraawer Gaz: Oh you talkin’ bout them things from ✨Jerressi PerAHck✨ Y/N: AHAH! Ghost: I’m gonna lose it. Soap: Hush yer mouth, it’s cute. Lighten up ya big log.
-- Ghost: I think I’ve finally had enough. Y/N, getting his antidepressants: I think you’re full of shit.
-- Medic!Y/N: C’mon, stick with me, Ghost. Ghost: Might be time to follow my call si-OH FUCKING HELL WHY Medic!Y/N: You listen here you Fuckin’ bastard, I’m gonna love the absolute shit out of you until you never make a joke like that again. And then, if you still do it, I’ll have the team smother, smother, you in affection. And if you STILL don’t get it, THEN I’m gonna whoop your ass. Shut your perfect fucking mouth, you got that, soldier?! Ghost: ….since when did you get scary? Medic!Y/N: Adrenalin keeps people alive and sometimes we run out of epipens, had to substitute somehow.
-- Price: Now, sergent, what would you rather be? A lion or a panda? Soap: Captain, I’m me. Why would I want to be anything else? Price: I’m not sure you realize how psychologically healthy that is.
-- Ghost, pissed off: Sometimes I can’t stand you. Y/N, while walking away: Then kneel! And while you’re down there, occupy your mouth, you’d do better down there, QUIET, anyway!! Ghost: I-…… Soap: Oooooo…. Gaz: I- I-…they have no fear. None. Absolutely no survival instinct, no self preservation. None!
-- (Younger Y/N as in like…mid-late twenties. Also, this one is long. I might honestly make a lil oneshot with this one and I welcome anyone else to do the same) Y/N: John… Price: I know, I know. You love me. You’ve said it a thousand times and it should just stick, I just…can’t help but think about how you’re so… Y/N: *snort* Out of your league? Price: To put it bluntly. Y/N: Well, regardless of where I rank? I still love you. I’m going to love you for a long time, you’re stuck with me, ya sweethearted bastard. Price, fondly: Ah Dear, whatever will I do. Y/N: Yeaaaah. Besides! Even if I wasn’t completely and utterly, disgustingly, in love with you? …you are way too good of a sugar daddy to ditch. Price: Hah! Oh really? Why’s that? Y/N: Are you kidding?! Paid off house, paid off car, successful military captain, great manners, great dick, extremely attractive, good with kids, good cook, sexy voice. I could go on for awhile. Price: Oh now you’re just feedin’ my ego. Y/N: Yes, yes I am. Price: I’ll get cocky. Y/N: You’re sexy when you’re arrogant too, that doesn’t deter me. Price: *sigh* Far out of my league. Y/N: You’re a rank climber, I think you’ll keep up.
-- (NSFW but it's in a ha-ha funny way, based on a conversation I've had. Kink mentions) Soap: Look, I just...I need advice on how to spice it up in the bedroom. Y/N: Do you know how little that narrows it down? Gaz: I feel there are few options. Y/N: No there are a lot of options, it depends on your level of spice. I dunno your boundaries wit'cha man! Soap: I just need something! Y/N: THERE ARE A LOT OF THINGS! Get some handcuffs, grab a vibrator, TRY ANAL, I don't fucking know! Gaz: *chokes on drink* Soap: Okay, listen- Y/N: No, you listen. Rule of thumb with kinks? It's a mountain and there are three kinds of people on it. People who don't wanna climb, people who want to climb but choose not to, and people who stay climbing. You reach a level of kinkiness and you stay there. You can't go back down the mountain. Me, personally? I have chosen to stop climbing because I know I'll get worse. I'm choosing to stay on my part of the mountain. Where you wanna climb is up to you. Soap: Where do I climb then? Y/N: The beginner's trail is fuzzy handcuffs, orgasm control, and mirror sex. Soap: This is the weirdest advice I've ever gotten. Y/N: It's my specialty.
-- (Follow it up with an asexual joke) Graves: Are you fighting the urge to make out with me right now? Y/N: Not really, I'm really into this pizza though. Soap, in the back: Aw they burnt my fuckin' cookies! Assholes. Y/N: Karma. Soap: It is not my fault I ate the last slice of cake, I didn't know it was yours- Y/N: IT WAS LABELED! Soap: I DIDN'T SEE IT!! Graves: *slowly backs away*
-- Y/N, holding up a coffee pot: Anyone want more coffee? Price: No, we've all had ours. Y/N: *takes off the lid* Cool. Gaz: What are y-NO! Y/N: *chugging from the pot* Ghost: ...This is the peak of mental illness. Price: PUT THE DAMN POT DOWN! Soap: This is the scariest thing I've ever seen them do- Y/N: *fighting to finish the coffee as Price tries to get it away from them*
6K notes · View notes
bradshawsvinyl · 5 months
Text
Begin Again
Part two.
As a first grade teacher, you couldn’t help but fall for your sweet student and her very attractive Navy fighter pilot father.
based off an ask! (screenshot at the bottom.)
Tumblr media
You woke up on September 6th joyful and excited. It was your first day as a first grade teacher in San Diego. You had wanted to be an elementary school teacher for as long as you could remember and after six years of schooling, you were finally ready.
Your first day teaching went well. You and your students played games and got to know each other. By three thirty all of your students were picked up except one.
Tara Bradshaw was a little girl with brown curly hair and big brown eyes. No one had come to pick her up yet so you decided to stay behind with her for a while and try to get in contact with her parents.
“Hey Tara,” you said while kneeling down to her level in the pick up area. “Let’s go back inside okay? I’ll call your parents and remind them to come get you.”
“Okay.” Tara replied hesitantly while grabbing your hand. “Can you call my daddy?”
“Of course I can, sweetheart.” You replied “Let’s go.”
The walk back to your classroom was short. While Tara made herself comfortable at her desk, you picked up her file and phoned the number.
“Hello,” A deep voice answered after the third ring.
“Hi. I’m Tara’s first grade teacher at school and I was just calling to ask if there was someone available to pick her up? School ended at three o'clock and she’s still here with me.” You said politely.
“Shit,” The deep voice replied. “I’m so sorry. I’m at work right now. I completely forgot. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“No worries,” you replied kindly. “Bye.” You said quickly before hanging up.
Tumblr media
Bradley hung up his phone and quickly made his way to the school. He couldn’t believe he had forgotten to pick up Tara. He felt like the worst father in the world.
Tara’s mom left Bradley when Tara was only two years old and he hasn’t heard from her since. Being a single father was hard for him. He was the only one in charge of taking Tara to school, bringing her home, feeding her and more.
Bradley got to the school within ten minutes and quickly made his way inside. After visiting the main office, he found your classroom. He knocked on the door. “Thank you so much for staying with her. I can’t believe I forgot.” He said as Tara started running towards him.
“It happens,” you replied sweetly. “No worries I promise!”
Bradley knelt down to Tara and said, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”
Tara hugged him and said, “It’s ok daddy.”
You watched the heartwarming scene. Feeling a sense of fulfillment that you had seemingly helped a stressed out Bradley. As Bradley stood to leave with Tara, he glanced at you and couldn’t help but notice your warm eyes and polite smile.
“You know,” he said sheepishly, “Tara’s lucky to have such a caring and uh…cute teacher like you.”
You chuckled softly, feeling flustered. “Thank you Bradley. I’m just happy I got to spend some extra time with Tara today.”
“Yeah well thanks,” He replied “Tara say bye to your teacher.”
“Bye bye!” She said as Bradley gathered Tara’s belongings and smiled at you, leaving a bright blush and flutter in your stomach.
Tumblr media
“Jesus Christ Bradshaw,” Bradley said as he buckled Tara into her car seat. “Get it together.”
Bradley couldn’t believe he had been stupid enough to call you cute. You were his daughter's teacher and here he was hitting on you. He couldn’t believe what he had done.
As Tara napped on the short drive to their house. Bradley called his best friend, Phoenix.
“I’m so stupid,” he said into the phone as soon as she picked up.
“No hi Bradshaw?” She replied, the hint of a smile in her voice. “What did you do this time?”
“I picked Tara up from school late and then I called her teacher cute.” He said, sounding slightly frustrated with himself.
On the other side of the phone, Phoenix burst out laughing. “Oh my god Rooster.” She said, still laughing. “Well was she pretty.”
“Of course she was pretty, Nat. She might be the most beautiful woman I've seen in a long time” Bradley said as he recalled your sweet face. “Look, I just got home and I have to bring Tara inside. I’ll call you later.”
“If she really is that cute, don't worry about it, Rooster.” Phoenix said before hanging up.
To Bradley’s surprise, Tara was awake in the backseat. As they both went inside their home, Bradley couldn’t help but worry about how he was going to face you tomorrow. Embarrassed couldn't even describe how he felt.
Tumblr media
The next school day went by quickly. You again woke up early and made the drive to work. Your students seemed excited about the lessons today, and you felt proud that you were able to get them to like you. You were trying to distract yourself from the voice in your head that was seemingly screaming BRADLEY CALLED YOU HOT.
Bradley Bradshaw was attractive. You couldn’t deny that. He had loose, curly brown hair and big puppy dog eyes. But it was probably wildly inappropriate to have a crush on your student's father. For all you knew, Bradley was married.
But you hadn’t seen a ring. And for some reason, that excited you.
At dismissal today, Tara was the last student to get picked up. But at least Bradley wasn’t extremely late today.
When Tara caught sight of her dad, she began jumping up and down. Once her father was in earshot, she turned to you and proudly said, “My daddy thinks you’re pretty!”
Tumblr media
Here’s the ask!
Tumblr media
I’ll make a part two if people are interested!
605 notes · View notes
Text
Adoption | Learn
“So let me get this straight.”
Danny stared at the group of vigilantes in front of him, a look of utter disbelief etched onto his face.
“Batman had a baby with Catwoman, she hid it from him, gave the baby up for adoption, and that baby is me. And you’re all here because Batman’s other ex also had a hidden pregnancy, but she’s a homicidal maniac who wants to make sure her son is the only blood child because of some weird cult rules?”
If they’d been in a cartoon, there’s be crickets chirping. He continued, voice growing less disbelieving and more angry as he went.
“And because some cult wants to kill me, I have to give up my whole life, cut off all contact with my family and friends, go live in a state 900 miles away, and stay cooped up— for an unknown amount of time— in Bruce Wayne’s mansion, because that’s who Batman really is.”
A stilted silence filled the room of the safe house Danny had been dragged to a few hours ago, sans the unnecessarily long explanation he’d just summarized.
After a few more moments, Nightwing stepped forward and smiled gently at him an oh, that rankled Danny. He did not need whatever kid gloves the guy was about to pull on. Before Bluebell had a chance to open his mouth, Danny channeled his inner Jazz and raised his hand for silence. Nightwing paused, and Danny proceeded to give them all a single, flat, unimpressed look, and then stated factually,
“I’m not leaving, I’m not staying with yet another frootloop billionaire, and I’m not in the least concerned with dying. So. You can all go back to where you belong, I’ll stay here, where I belong, and if any cultist come knocking I’ll deal with them just like I’ve been dealing with every other threat in this town the last six months: alone. Because apparently the entire Justice League is too busy to respond to calls for help about inter-dimensional threats popping in and out of my parents basement on a daily basis.”
… Okay, so Danny may have been yelling a bit by the end, but it was justified! And oh, Danny really wished his life was a cartoon right now, because that cricket chirping would be been perfect. He’s pretty sure he broke a few of them. Nightwing looked ready to cry.
Good. Danny was too tired to deal with this sh*t.
Thanks to the whole Pariah Dark thing last month, Danny was apparently immortal now anyways, so even if the cult people managed to completely destroy his body, he’d just reform in the Zone. Because he was now connected to it, and only another ghost could End him like he had Pariah, because of some weird dimensional rules. Apparently, since humans couldn’t rule the Infinite Realms, they just, like… didn’t qualify to kill him. That went for aliens, demons, gods, and other non-human beings of sentience.
So Danny’s got that going for him at least. About time something useful came outta this whole disaster of a school year.
But he’d gotten off track. Before him stood a truly ridiculous number of vigilantes, and they all looked like he’d just slapped them with a fish and then played violin with it. For a few minutes, Danny just basked in the stuttering and bewildered looks, before he noticed Nightwing drawing himself up in righteous determination and decided that yeah, he was done now.
At this point, being a dramatic a**hole to people (or ghosts) who were annoying him was just second nature, so he straightened to attention, raised his hand in a salute, and then let himself sink through the floor, perfectly stoic.
The stuttering turned to panicked shouts, and Danny’s last view of his apparent siblings was a few people lunging for him and missing, winding up tangled together on the carpet.
‘Ahhhh, yesss, I will treasure that memory always! Ah well, time to get home! Maybe I should scout out for those cult people, mess around with them. Maybe follow them back sometime, meet my half-brother. That could be fun, me and Ellie can make a road trip of it this summer! Maybe by then, the Justice Losers will have gotten their heads out as their butts.’
Meanwhile, back at the safe house, several frantic calls were being made about the dimensional threats and the League of Assassins and the possibly meta human, definitely vigilante brother.
Amity Park was about to get a lot more chaotic.
2K notes · View notes
stevie-petey · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media
oh, you didn't know?
“I was told there’d be cookies.” Dustin interrupted, flashing Steve another smug grin that made the teen want to shove him into a snowbank.  “Yeah, for her.” Steve pointed at you. “Not for you.”
Summary: steve is pathetically in love with you and for some reason the universe hates him and continues to pray on his downfall. typical.
Rating: general, some swearing
Warnings: swearing, fem!reader, use of y/n
Words: 1.6k
Before you swing in: happy valentines day my loves <333 youre all my valentines, i didnt make the rules. anyways, pls enjoy this cute cheesy fic. dont ask how i thought of this: i simply do not know. however, its pathetic!loverboy!steve and i think we ALL deserve that today smh.
-
Steve has never had the best timing. 
When he first manned up to ask you out, it had coincidentally been the same day your childhood dog died. 
There he had been, flowers in hand and a proud smile on his face when he knocked on your front door, completely taken aback when you answered with tears streaming down your face. 
Immediately, Steve’s smile had dropped and he quickly pulled you close to inspect for any injuries or pain. “Y/N? What happened, is everything okay?”
“My dog died.” You wailed, even more tears spilling over. 
“Oh my god–”
“He… He didn’t suffer. He was old and–” You had sniffed, looking so small and frail in your heartbreak, before spotting the flowers in Steve’s hand. You gasped. “H–How did you know?”
Steve had been confused for a moment, but when he followed your gaze to the flowers that were originally meant to be “please be my girlfriend” flowers, his heart dropped. 
Well fuck. 
“Yes…” He cleared his throat. “I, uh. Had a hunch?”
You threw your arms around Steve, the flowers then crushed between you two, but he hadn't paid any attention to them as he wrapped his arms tightly around you. After a few seconds, you placed your lips by his ear and whispered, “You’re the sweetest.”
The sincerity in your voice had made Steve want to vomit. 
He hadn’t had a hunch that your childhood dog would die that day, but what else was he supposed to say? Hey, sorry your dog died, do you want to kiss now? Absolutely not. 
Steve is many things, and oftentimes he is an idiot, but he isn’t that much of an idiot.
So, instead of asking you to be his girlfriend, Steve had instead spent the next three hours at your house as he consoled you and watched your favorite movie to cheer you up. While it hadn’t been his ideal outcome, Steve had still been happy to simply spend time with you. Besides, you had needed him at that moment, so of course Steve was right there by your side. 
Life moved on, a few weeks passed, and eventually Steve decided to try again. 
You had no more animals to possibly lose, Christmas was approaching, and Steve was determined that this time he’d be able to ask you out. 
After buying you some chocolate and planning a fort building night on Christmas Eve, Steve had been sure that the night would go perfectly. There was a beautiful rose pendant bracelet sitting atop of his dresser in his room, wrapped and ready for you to open. 
Steve’s plan was foolproof. 
Build a fort, watch a cheesy Christmas movie, bake some cookies and drink hot chocolate, and then boom: Steve would ask you to be his girlfriend. 
However, Steve really should’ve known better. 
His parents had left that day and he had spent the entire time cleaning the house and preparing all the snacks before your arrival. At six on the dot, his doorbell rang and Steve eagerly ran over to answer the door. 
There, standing on his front doorstep, had been you with a smug looking Dustin Henderson.
“What’s the kid doing here?” Steve had asked, all his hope now coming crashing down upon him. 
You winced. “I know we made plans, I’m so sorry, but his mom asked me to babysit him and she offered me the rest of the money I need for your Christmas gift and–”
“I was told there’d be cookies.” Dustin interrupted, flashing Steve another smug grin that made the teen want to shove him into a snowbank. 
“Yeah, for her.” Steve pointed at you. “Not for you.”
“Stevie, I promise I’ll make it up to you later.” You groaned at him, and Steve knew you hated disappointing him. “Can we please just come inside? It’s cold and I was really excited for the fort.”
There are many times when Steve wonders just how he manages to get himself into obscure situations. That night, when he had Dustin Henderson wedged between you and him underneath a super romantic and cute fort that he had spent hours building, had been one of those times where Steve questioned his entire life. 
At that point, Steve was starting to wonder if he’d ever manage to ask you out in the first place. 
A few more weeks passed after that and you were still his best friend and nothing had changed between you two, but now Steve found himself constantly biting his tongue around you. He was so fucking in love with you, he had been for years, but after two failed attempts of confessing his feelings: it was becoming impossible to hold them in. 
Then, late January, your birthday came along. 
This time, Steve was sure that he had it all figured out.
You had wanted to grab some dinner at the local diner you loved, and Steve thought that a small, toned down proposal to date would be perfect. He’d give you your birthday gift (a matching set of earrings for the rose bracelet you now wore every day), he’d order you the strawberry shortcake you adored, and when you weren’t looking, Steve would ask the waitress to write “happy birthday, my love” on the cake. 
Steve was a goddamn romantic genius, honestly. 
Except that isn’t what happened. 
What actually ended up happening was the waitress somehow hearing “my love” as “Milo” and Steve had wanted to bash his fucking skull in. 
“Who’s ‘Milo’?” You had asked once the cake came out, confusion evident on your face. 
Steve, now used to nothing ever working out in his favor, had simply sighed and said, “Who knows, man. Just eat your cake.”
You had giggled, and the sound was enough to cheer Steve up a bit. Sure, it was looking more and more like the world didn’t want you with him, but at least he got to hear your laugh and admire the way your eyes shined whenever you looked at him. 
Now, a few weeks later, it’s Valentine’s Day and Steve is terrified that he will somehow set your house on fire with his horrible luck. 
He has spent the last two months trying to ask you out. Now, on the day of love itself, Steve is almost too terrified to even approach you. At the rate he’s going, if he tries to ask you out again, he’ll end up telling you he hates you or something. 
He’s miserable. 
Which is how he finds himself once again outside your door, except there’s no flowers in his hands, and he knocks. 
You guys haven’t made any plans tonight, but it’s Valentine’s Day and Steve is so in love with you that it hurts. 
The second his knuckles leave the door, you swing the door wide open and jump into his arms. “Stevie!”
Surprised by such an affectionate reaction, Steve almost falls into the bushes in front of your house. “Woah, hey!”
He steadies the two of you and you simply squeeze him tighter and giggle. You’re in an exceptionally good mood, almost too good of a mood, and Steve’s hands are sweating. He hadn’t exactly come here with a game plan in mind. 
“Happy to see me, I take it?” He mumbles into your ear. 
“Duh,” you press a kiss to his cheek. “It’s Valentine’s Day, why wouldn’t I be excited to see my boyfriend?”
This time, Steve actually does fall into the bush behind him. 
“Oh my god,” you run over and quickly try to help the boy up, but Steve is staring up at the night sky, overcome with pure shock and fear. “Stevie? Steve!”
Steve lays there, motionless as you continue to tug at his jacket. “How long have I been your boyfriend, Y/N?”
At his question, you stop tugging and look at him, confused. “I don’t know, honestly. How long has it been since the fourth of July?”
“The fourth?” Steve sputters. “Y/N, it’s Valentine’s Day and I’m just now finding out you’re my girlfriend?”
“Oh, you didn’t know?”
“No!” Steve finally scrambles out of the bushes and grabs your face with his hands. He feels insane, his hands are shaking a bit as he holds onto you. “When did this happen?”
You scrunch your eyebrows together. “On the fourth. We saw the fireworks, cuddled on the picnic blanket you stole from your mom, you grabbed my hand, and then told me you never wanted this to end. I just… I assumed you meant our relationship?”
Steve blinks. “You… You are the love of my life, Y/N L/N.”
“Well, I’d hope so–” Suddenly Steve’s lips are against yours and he’s kissing you with everything he has within him. All those months of pining after you, all the times he’s failed in asking you to be his, and this entire time you had somehow been his all along. 
God, he is so stupidly in love with you. 
He nips at your bottom lip and you make a sound that’s so soft and sweet in the back of your throat that has Steve’s head spinning. He nips again, revels in the breathy sigh you release against his lips, and Steve’s hand tugs harshly against your waist. 
The kiss is perfect and everything he’s ever dreamed of. 
Then, a thought occurs to Steve. 
“Wait a minute,” he breaks the kiss and your love drunk expression almost makes him groan. He tells himself to focus, even though it’s incredibly difficult to do so. “If we’ve been supposedly dating since July, didn’t you wonder why I hadn’t kissed you yet?”
“Oh, I just thought you were shy.” You shrug, as if it’s no big deal. Then, with a teasing smile, you add, “And I guess I love you too.”
Steve decides, then and there, that you will be the death of him.
And he couldn’t be any happier as he pulls you in again for another bruising kiss. 
Afterall, Steve has about seven months to make up for lost time. 
-
⌑ writing masterlist
1K notes · View notes
trash-king18 · 1 year
Text
miguelxpregnant!reader drabble
————
im so sorry but i can just imagine miguel laying his head on his wife’s stomach as he often does to get her to play with his hair because he’s a big baby and after laying down for a second he shoots up looking like he can’t believe something just happened
“ay miguel wtf”
he just shushes you and puts his head back to your stomach and when he looks up at you he has the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on his face
“oh my god what is wrong with you”
“mi vida… you’re pregnant”
“..what? no baby im not”
he looks like it’s christmas morning “yes cariño you are”
“how do you know” you’re assuming he was gonna say that he had a feeling
“i can hear it” you look at him like he’s gone insane
“hear what?”
“a heartbeat”
“uh yeah.. mine?”
he rolls his eyes “no.” his hands come to the sides of your waist and he just stares in wonder at your belly
“there’s another one. it’s small but it’s there”
“migs..” you place a hand on his face, you feel bad
“i know you want it to be true but i think i would know if i was over a month pregnant” (heartbeats develop around 35 days)
he just brings your hand down gently still smiling like a madman but then he looks at you very seriously “baby when was your last period”
you think about it for a second. you’ve been literally so wrapped up in work you hadn’t even noticed. your hand comes up to your mouth
“oh my god.”
he’s practically beaming at you but you.. just feel nauseous. “holy shit”
you spring up and run to the bathroom and lock yourself in. you hadn’t told him but you’d stashed a couple tests under the sink. you pulled every single one out and used all three.
he’s outside the bathroom door knocking repeatedly begging you to come out or let him in but you just sit on the floor too scared to look.
“bebe please come out”
“no”
“mi amor i will break this door down”
“don’t you dare”
you heard him sigh and slide down the wall to sit on the floor outside the door.
you wanted this. eventually. you were sure of it but you had expected it to be planned, you weren’t even off the pill yet.
your hands were trembling as you finally picked the test up and flipped the first one over.
and then the second
and then the third.
you sat on the floor a while longer to process. a few minutes later you finally open the door and his head turns to you, face full of concern. you put your hand on his shoulder so he doesn’t get up. you take a shaky breath and hand him the test
he takes it from your hand gently. his eyes widen as he reads it. he looks back up at you. your eyes are puffy you’d clearly been crying but before he can say something like “we have other options” “we don’t have to do this yet if you’re not ready” (which is exactly what he was about to say)
you look at him dead serious and threaten “if you baby me or smother me or try to keep me from working i will make you wish you were never born” but he isn’t even listening he just throws the test aside and pulls you down into his arms. you feel his shoulders shudder slightly
“miggy are you crying?”
he sniffles and looks down as you tip his face up with your hands
“aww mi cielo why are you crying”
“i just never thought i’d get another chance”
you wipe the tears from his face with your thumbs gently.
“well i guess we’re gonna have six kids now”
“six?”
“yeah”
he rolls his eyes even as another tear sneaks it’s way down his cheek “the spider teens are not our children”
“really? because we’ve essentially adopted all five of em”
“speak for yourself”
“oh come on migs i know you love em, even hobie”
“no.”
“mmmhm. i think i’m gonna ask him to be the godfather oo or maybe peter b”
his voice is firm but his face is soft and his eyes are still staring at you like you’re a real life angel he shakes his head gently “you will do no such thing cariño”
“don’t tell me you were planning on asking lego spider man”
“i-“
“god the attachment you have to that piece of plastic is concerning”
“don’t disrespect him like that”
————
the ending was not planned but it made me giggle and i hope you enjoyed
2K notes · View notes