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letorip · 3 months ago

Text

crimson & clover

“now i don't hardly know her, but i think i could love her"

===+++===

pairing: wednesday addams x mute!reader

summary: people fear that which they do not understand. it makes sense then, why you and wednesday fall in love and help each other

warnings: erm you killed a lot of people on accident, angsty in the middle there, threats of violence, descriptions of violence

word count: 5.1k

A/N: heavily inspired by black bolt, who i really do think is one of my favourite heroes. there will likely be a part 2 or 3 to this but for rn my attention is on kiss with a fist. THERE WILL ALSO BE A PART [IV] OF SOMETHIN' STUPID

KISS WITH A FIST [IV] WILL BE UP NEXT SUNDAY

===+++===

===+++===

There were certain things you couldn’t have, when one had the ability to do incredible damage, if they just opened their mouth.

When you did so, on a random Saturday morning at 10 years old, and your house burst apart, it took your parents and a chunk of the neighbourhood with it in a fiery tempest that stabbed you right through the heart. You learned then, that maybe you weren't meant to have a family.

At age 12, when the kids at the Home for Outcast Children strung you up from the monkey bars by your ankles, and you couldn’t hold in a laugh from how the world looked funny when the sky looked like the floor, you learned you weren’t meant to have friends, sitting silently in the dirty crater where the playground used to be with your head tucked into your knees.

You had thought it would be implied then, that you would never have a lover, either. But then again, there was Wednesday Addams.

It was still a mystery, why she chose you. You had assumed she would want nothing to do with you just like she didn’t want anything to do with most people, and you couldn’t have been more wrong.

The both of you met about a week after she arrived at Nevermore, in the dead of night on one of the walks you always took when everyone else had gone to bed and there was no one to watch you, no one to murmur as you went past. You didn't pose a danger to anyone, then, and it was liberating and also deeply melancholic.

That was when you were most at peace. Your thoughts, even though well-reasoned, could not be expressed. You wrote often, in a leather-bound notebook you’d let no one see, but the power was given to writing through reading it, and there was no one you could have close enough to do so. It made you tired, to be around people you couldn’t communicate with. Few people wanted to wait for you to write something out on a notebook and even fewer wanted to learn sign language.

Kinbott had a dry-erase whiteboard in her office that was just meant for you and the only deaf person in Jericho, though the old man had gone missing a few months ago, without a trace. It was humiliating, at first, and you used to write two-word sentences, curt responses doing the bare minimum, often out of anger— whether it was anger from your situation or anger at being a teenager, you didn’t know— but now you could fill it with paragraphs and kept a notebook for when communication was especially necessary.

That night itself was peaceful, with gentle, twinkling stars that were only lightly polluted by the quad’s towering lamps. You could still see their faint outlines above you, with casting shadows down the lawn from the roof’s spires, and it smelled as if it were going to rain soon.

When you heard the scuttling of something on the floor, you jumped, startled, eyes shooting down to where you were certain you had felt someone’s fingers grip at your leg. Your eyes widened in surprise at the disembodied hand, racing up the uneven cobblestones and then up the leg of someone at the far end of the quad, landing finally on her shoulder.

Wednesday with her arms crossed, looking at you with a comically large bag slung over her shoulder that must've contained all of her belongings, like a runaway in the night.

Oh. That's what she was.

You blankly stared back at her, blinking at her figure. She took a menacing step forward, her grip on the bag tightening. "Are you following me?" she asked, tone icy. When you kept looking at her without so much as opening your mouth, her apathetic eyes narrowed. "If you tell anyone you saw me, they will never find your body. Don't say a word."

It was intended to be a threat, and if it had been anyone else, it probably would've made their blood run ice over just from how cold her gaze was. But you just raised your eyebrows at her, unable to stop the amusement from tugging at the corners of your lips. The irony was very far from lost on you, and the more serious she seemed the more funny the blunder was.

"What?" she snipped. "Is something amusing to you?"

Again, you could not say. You silently shook your head, tilting it then out of curiosity, and gently pointing towards the hand on her shoulder. It sat up at your attention, sending a friendly wave in your direction. Your eyes widened, waving before Wednesday could clear her throat and pull your eyes back up to hers.

Her eyes in question were dark and intense, but beautiful, even under the dim lighting, and you had to swallow what felt like a lump in your throat, in order to regain your composure. "Why are you silent?" she asked, narrowing them at you. You were under her microscope, and she scanned you, looking for anything that would impair your immediate voice.

You raised up a hand as if to say ‘hold on,’ before tugging your notebook out from your overcoat, flipping it open and pulling out your pen. With a click, you were scribbling down on the paper, and Wednesday narrowed her eyes at you again, scanning you in suspicion.

When you were done, you flipped it around, holding it up to her eyes with a gentle smile. 'Trust me, I don't think you'll need to worry about me telling anyone anything, anytime soon.'

Her eyes combed over the words, then glanced back down to you. "Why is—" she opened her mouth out of curiosity, but a heavy door slammed shut down the hall, and she whipped around before she could finish the question.

You both could hear the footsteps coming closer, and Wednesday straightened up, grip tightening on the bag over her shoulder. "You didn't see me, and you won't ever again," she said, coldly.

You nodded, not that you believed she'd make it out. You yourself had tried to run away for the first month and a half, and after long enough, one just gave up. Nevermore was hard to escape; you doubted she had readied a good enough plan in just a few days of being there. Still, you wished her luck. The forest was dangerous, and especially now.

With a final nod in your direction, she hastily walked off, down the corridor the opposite way. You watched her go, calmly sitting near the fountain. A few moments after she disappeared down a different hallway, a very tired looking Weems came down the stairs in her nightgown, holding onto a rusted lantern.

When she saw you, she sighed. "What did I say about those nighttime walks of yours, (Y/n)?"

You smiled, tilting your head to the side and shrugging at her. Weems huffed at your attempt at cluelessness, shaking her head fondly. "Just make sure you get yourself to bed soon, alright?"

You nodded, leaning back on the fountain edge and tracing the grout lines with your thumbs. Weems turned back to the hallway Wednesday went down. "I guess Miss Addams is planning to escape tonight?" But you didn't write anything down, raising your eyebrows at her as if to say 'duh.' Weems adjusted the hem of her nightgown from where it had dragged gently on the steps. "Thank you, (Y/n). I'll see you tomorrow."

She began to follow down the path Wednesday had taken, letting the lantern lead her through the dim corridor, and you silently yawned, picking up your notebook and figuring you had enough adventure for the night.

===+++===

That was your first unofficial meeting, at least. You almost forgot it had happened the following morning, except for when Wednesday showed up in class the next day looking more displeased and unhappy to be there than normal.

It was amusing how frustrated she was, mouth drawn into an annoyed line and eyes looking especially dark. When she caught your eye as she went to take her seat, you averted your gaze back down to your notebook to hide your cheeky smile, resuming your doodle in the margin and running a nervous hand through your hair.

She kept staring throughout the lecture, as if silently daring you to mention her failure, not that you could aloud. You weren’t willing to look back, but you could see her dark eyes shift up and across the round of tables towards you from the corner of your eye, which you made sure to keep on Thornhill.

After long enough, Xavier noticed too. He whispered something to her and then glanced up at you with a look that was far from friendly. He hadn't liked you one bit, but neither did any of the other kids, when they found out. You couldn't exactly blame them, either. The school was full of monsters, but you were a monster among monsters.

"Wednesday, Xavier," Thornhill called out, crossing her arms. She wasn't angry, though. More playful. "Is something more important than our study of carnivorous plants?"

Xavier began to shake his head, starting an apology, but Wednesday cut him off, blankly staring back at Thornhill as it left her mouth. "Yes."

At the challenge, the whole class seemed to let out a comically loud gasp. Thornhill's previously teasing smile dropped to a displeased frown, and she shoved her hands into the pockets of her overalls, motioning to the large glass enclosure on the table behind her. "I don't suppose you can tell me what this is, then?" At the question, you can see Bianca smirk and raise her own hand, eager to steal it away, "I haven't said the name out loud yet, and it will be on your test next—"

"—Dendrophylax lindenii." The interruption came swift from her lips, but Wednesday's eyes are still steeled over and unimpressed by Thornhill's attempt to be put on the spot.

You have to hide your amusement again, at the shocked look on Bianca's face, but she rushes to make up for it by adding something of her own. "It's also known as the Ghost Orchid—”

"—First discovered on the Isle of Wight in 1852," Wednesday adds, and once more she's won. Or, she would have. You can't help the shake your head does, or the cheeky smile on your face that Wednesday locks onto, like a heatseeking missile. Her eyes are like daggers, stabbing you through and through. "Is something funny?"

She says it across the entire classroom and everyone goes silent, less focused on the plants now and more the fact that she's acknowledging your presence. You shrug, trying to diffuse the situation, but it only makes her glare at you harder. "No, go on," Wednesday demands, her tone just as icy as she had been the night before. "Tell us, what was so funny?"

"Wednesday," Thornhill warns her, sending you a sympathetic look, but she ignores her and so do you.

"Or are you still at a loss for words," she draws out, and in doing so, the rest of the class fills with 'ooh's and 'woah's. You stare at her for a moment, then silently, your hand goes to your notebook.

The moment you begin writing in it, the classroom tenses again, waiting for you to finish. You make them as big as possible, large enough that she'll be able to clearly read them across the room. When you're done, you flip it around and hold it up like a sign, face blank.

discovered 1854, not 1852

idiot.

You've circled it several times in messy pen, to make sure she really sees. The room roars even louder in surprise, and however bad Wednesday's stare was before, the new one she gives you is infinitely worse. Her face is still deadpan, but her eyes flick away down to her notebook. It’s the only time you’ve seen her approach something resembling embarrassment or fury. You're sure the 'idiot' bit didn't help, but you were far too annoyed by her poking of you to not have poked her right back.

"Well...," Thornhill tries, "It seems the Ghost Orchid isn't the only carnivorous plant in here, today." But the class is too far gone to focus up again, sending you wary glances. They don't like Wednesday, but they like you even less, so it's confusing who they should root for.

You hold her gaze until the bell rings, finally breaking it to gather your things and leave as soon as possible. Her eyes are still on you as you go, and just before you exit the room, you can hear someone mutter "freak," under their breath. You tuck your books under your arm, and duck out into the hall.

===+++===

Fall was always your favourite time of year; for once, Jericho wasn't entirely unbearable. The leaves turned a warm orange and red, falling from the trees in abundant piles on the ground, and the air fermented into something crisp and especially breathable. You let it fill your nose as much as possible.

You sat on the lawn, listening to the birds flit about and the wind brush under the branches and hem of your jumper with a book in your lap and a frown on your face. It wasn't a good book- something the internet had said was incredible but had firmly left a bad taste in your mouth, and part of you wanted to put it down and turn to something more useful. But another part of you wanted to keep reading, like being unable to look away from a car accident.

The book was so engrossing in its awfulness that you didn't notice her watching you from afar or, more so, aiming in your direction. That was, until you turned the page, and her throwing knife whizzed past your ear and lodged itself into the tree you had been sitting against.

Your eyebrows furrowed at the noise, and you turned your head to the side, looking at the shiny, reflective silver. The letters W. A. stared back at you, engraved just below the knife's spine. You frowned, and when you looked back, she was standing over you, arms crossed and expression as deadpan as always.

You raised a questioning eyebrow, looking over at the knife and then back to her as if saying, 'What was that for?'

"Your attention was required," she replied dryly.

You rolled your eyes, dog-eared the page of your book, and placed it down next to you, pulling out your notebook and your pen. You wrote a single word.

dangerous.

"Believe me, if I wanted to hit you, I am entirely capable of aiming to kill," Wednesday said. Then, after a brief look around Nevermore's green, her eyes flicked back down to you. "I'm here on business."

You search her face for a moment, narrowing your eyes. They locked in on the small bandage on her forehead, and you nodded up at it, asking her what happened with the look on your face. Her frown deepened.

"I'm in the process of crushing a bee... and almost getting crushed by a gargoyle." You blinked, but Wednesday continued. "But I won't have to do either if you agree to my request."

It's hard to deny that her words massively pique your interest. Wednesday in general massively piques your interest, and you write down the thing you really want to know.

people say you eat human flesh...

You turn the page back to her, and Wednesday seems to process the words for a moment. She looks over at you, unimpressed by the allegation. "I don't eat it. My menagerie of pets do. And even then, that's nothing close to what Enid's said about you."

You stare up at her, then scribble a couple of words on the paper.

and what's that?

"That you're dangerous. That you’re somehow infinitely worse than I am, which I'm doubtful of," Wednesday says without missing a beat. "Enid won't say anything more, and neither will Xavier." She looks around again, over the green. There's a picnic of sirens by the lake, and a few of the werewolves are playing with a frisbee. She looks back at you. "I've been warned to stay away, and your propensity for being obnoxious has made that task fairly easy so far." You begin to write again.

so why are you here

"Because," she states like it's obvious, "I want to break out of here. And you're somehow the person to have gotten the closest."

and yet

i'm still here

You turn the page to her and jab the bottom bit several times with your pointer finger.

"Well then," she says, "help me succeed."

===+++===

“And how do you think that made you feel?” Kinbott asks, eyeing her various pages of notes to the left of you. Some of the other patients in Kinbott’s care had small, yellow folders, but you had a larger red one, with your name in highlighted block letters on the front. It looked like it should’ve had a top secret sticker in the corner, not that you weren’t appreciative about your records being sealed.

You erased the board, writing a single word.

seen

Then, underneath it.

idk, like i was really there?

Kinbott nodded. “You’ve said people often ignore you a lot. Why do you think that is?”

they’re scared. they think i’ll hurt them because they heard rumours about what i did.

i can’t blame them, really

She frowned, wrapping her hands around her knee. “But that’s not really fair, is it? When was the last time you’ve caused damage with your ability, (Y/n)?”

You shrug, thinking for a moment.

about four years

“And you haven’t made any sort of mistakes, right?”

well, no

“Then why should they be afraid of you?” Kinbott asks. She’s leaning forward, looking at you with her eyes softened. “You’ve trained yourself to silently yawn, you don’t cough, you don’t sneeze, you don’t snore. I think you need to trust yourself a little more, (Y/n).”

You shrug again, but don’t write anything down, so Kinbott sighs and sits back in her chair. “Principal Weems says that she has another little Harry Houdini on her hands?”

You write down Wednesday on your board. She nods. “I’m seeing her in a little while, actually.” It makes your eyebrows raise in surprise.

why?

Kinbott shakes her head. “You know I can’t share that. Therapy is private. It seems she doesn’t plan on staying, though. Wednesday has already tried to escape.”

i know.

she asked me to help her

Her eyes scan over the words and then look back up to you, warily. “You know better than to help her, right? Nevermore could be good for Wednesday. And I thought you were actually starting to like it here.”

You nod.

i already said no

it’s too dangerous, in the woods right now. with the attacks and stuff.

“Good. And please, tell Principal Weems if you learn of any plans in the future.” You nod again, much less committed, and Kinbott looks down at her watch. “I’m afraid our time is over, (Y/n),” she says with a smile. “I’ll see you next week.”

You write a quick thank you down and stand, shoving your socks back into your shoes and tugging on your jumper, tucking it underneath the collar of your shirt and fixing your Nevermore tie. Purple stripes was never your pattern, and Weems had long since given up on trying to make you wear the coat. She figured it probably made you less likely to run away.

Wednesday is sitting in the lobby when you get down the stairs, with a bored-looking Weems come to babysit. You send her a glance, and then give Weems a nod of your head in acknowledgment.

She beams back at you. “Ah, (Y/n). We’re here for Miss Addams’ session. If you want to wander around Jericho, we can take you back to the school when we're done, if you’d like.”

You send another look at Wednesday, whose face is just as deadpan and unhappy as before, and shake your head. You point at yourself and then mime walking with your two fingers. Principal Weems frowns, but gives you and okay, and you turn around to leave.

You can feel Wednesday’s eyes on you as you head for the school. You know she's annoyed by your refusal to help her, but you can't exactly tell her why you're refusing either, especially since you're lacking any evidence for your theory. So you just told her no.

===+++===

Even from deep inside the forest, you can hear the carnival. There's a Ferris wheel towering over the trees in front of you, and circus music blasts from a few speakers so that you can faintly hear it amongst the windy branches, leaves blowing along the ground and caressing your shoes from time to time as you walk through the dark.

You're looking for something, anything, indicating someone would've been there. Sheriff Galpin had found all sorts of hikers, recently, all almost unidentifiable, with how bloodied they were, but they had yet to find anyone with a hearing aid, so you were unsatisfied. It was believed he was on vacation, but you knew the old man went to his therapy appointments every single week. He hadn't missed a single day, so you failed to believe that theory. You didn't even know his name, really.

On a tree not too far from you, there was a claw mark sunk deep into the bark, and you looked towards it, at the pattern. The idea a bear was responsible for all the deaths wasn't exactly convincing, and looking at the claws, your doubts only amplified. You pulled out your camera, aiming it towards the mark, ready to snap a shot, when you heard footsteps pounding past you.

"Rowan!" called a voice behind you, and you froze, putting the camera down and flicking your flashlight off. The last thing you needed was word getting out that you were lurking in the woods. People thought you were scary enough.

But the words weren't directed at you. You listened intently, and then you heard the faint but panicked voice again. "Rowan," Wednesday says again, and the moment you realise it's her voice, you take off running towards it.

You find Rowan with his hand held up, crushing Wednesday against a tree, and before you can stop to think, you're rushing forward, shoving him in the back and pushing him into the dirt, where he struggles to catch his breath. The moment his hand splays out in front of him, Wednesday is dropped to the forest floor. You run to her, checking her over quickly for injuries, making sure she can run. When you find none, you grab her arm, hoisting her to her feet. You send a wary look over at Rowan, who's already trying to right himself and take Wednesday's hand in yours, pulling her deeper into the forest.

It isn't long before you hear him calling out. "Wednesday!" he yells, and you freeze, grabbing her by the arm and tugging her behind a tree. You push her flush against the bark and cover her mouth with your hand, getting as close as possible so that you hide better against the trunk. She seems too scared to comment on the touch, eyes wide and chest heaving from the running. You raise your other hand and press your finger to your lips.

"Wednesday, I'm doing Nevermore a favour," he tries again. "One massive favour. You're dangerous. My mother's seen it. I can see it. Anyone who knows you can see it."

Your eyes flicker to Wednesday's in confusion, processing his words. She's staring up at you, eyes dark and full of worry, begging for him not to find you. Any idea you had about her not getting scared goes out the window. She's just as human as you are. You send her a comforting nod, peeking around the tree trunk. Rowan's a few trees away, with his back turned, scouring the area.

You begin to back away from Wednesday, gesturing over your shoulder. If you both can sneak off and go back to the carnival without Rowan noticing, you can ensure safety. She gives a curt nod, letting you take her hand in yours again. You're faster than her, she knows that. You slowly pull her with you, quietly stepping away and towards the fair.

You only make it a few steps, until Wednesday steps on a branch.

The small twig cracks under her boot, and within an instant, Rowan whips his head around to you both, staring back at him like a pair of deer in headlights. He takes a few menacing steps forward. "There you are," he draws out in between wheezy breaths. His hand comes up, ready to crush her, but before he can use his ability, a large, hulking creature grabs him by the leg, whipping him around and down onto the ground.

You and Wednesday watch in horror as Rowan screams, and the creature rears up on its hind legs, coming down and smashing Rowan with its fists. You can hear the crunching of his bones and then the tearing of flesh as the creature's claws dig into the boy's skin. Wednesday's hand is still in yours, and she squeezes it harshly, small black fingernails digging into the back of your hand, pulling you down to the ground with her and then scooting back.

The attack is short but brutal, and you see bits of Rowan's chest go flying and pure red maw. The creature whips around to you when Rowan goes silent, staring at Wednesday with intensity in its big eyes. Then it scrambles off, tearing through the woods and into the darkness.

As soon as it's gone, Wednesday rushes forward in the leaves, going to Rowan's side. You clamber to your feet, watching the direction the creature went with wide eyes. When you turn back to Wednesday, you catch her shoving something in her pocket. You don't ask what it is, but you make a mental note to ask later.

"Please," she says, a bit panicked. Her fingers are coated in Rowan's blood. "Go get Weems."

===+++===

Another not-too-awful thing about Nevermore was the breakfast. You sat at an abandoned picnic table in the corner of the quad, finishing your eggs, when Wednesday slammed her hands down on the wood with a loud thunk. You jumped in your seat, startled by the noise, dropping your egg back onto your plate.

"What exactly did you see last night?" she demanded, glaring.

Your eyes widened at her tone. It was harsher than normal, and she wore her frustration on her sleeve. A few students at nearby tables sent you suspicious and wary glances. Over Wednesday's shoulder, you could see her roommate, Enid, staring at you.

Most important was Weems, who looked down at you from the balcony above. You composed yourself and looked back down to Wednesday, shrugging nonchalantly, as if to say you didn't know.

Wednesday gritted her teeth harder. "But you do know. We saw Rowan get eviscerated by that creature. You were there. So why did you tell Weems you didn't see anything?!"

You furrowed your eyebrows, shaking your head at her, doubling down. This was no place to get into it. No place to tell the truth. You slid your notebook towards her.

i saw him this morning.

She huffed, stomping off. You knew exactly why you saw him that morning, actually. Weems had shown you her powers a time or two, and you knew that 'Rowan' was just her in disguise. But you also didn't know if it was something you wanted to share yet. You, too, had been a bit miffed at seeing Weems pretend to be Rowan, but you also knew Weems' powers gave her an advantage, and you were too loyal to take that away from her. You owed her too much.

The question of why still rang in your mind, though. Why was she so eager to cover it up? She had never at least lied to you, so this lie seemed out of left field.

You saw the fake Rowan several times throughout the day. Each time you did your best to let Weems know you knew, and she seemed wary of you, avoiding you at every intersection. You spent the night thinking, wandering around Nevermore, stopping in the library and pulling out several books.

Wednesday had shoved something in her pocket, something that Rowan had. Something about her dooming Nevermore, about being dangerous. You raked through all the books about prophecies, not finding anything of interest and giving up at around one in the morning. No books were missing a piece of paper, and no books mentioned Wednesday's name. You could find a few references to someone named Goody, but she seemed unimportant among the other Addams ancestors, having been dead for hundreds of years. You made another mental bookmark to look more into it, later.

You trudged back to your dorm, already regretting your choices, considering you had an 8 am class in the morning. The school was peaceful again, and as you climbed the stairs, you could hear the trickle of the fountain.

But the moment your shoe placed itself upon the landing, you froze. Your door hung open slightly, just cracked, and right in the way was the same hand you had seen on your first night. You straightened up, feeling more awake, and more annoyed, now.

You pushed your own door open, knocking loudly on the wood like it wasn't your own room, illustrating your frustration. Wednesday turned towards you, unimpressed. She had your journal in her hands, the other one not meant for your communication but for your theories.

It was open to the photo you had just taken, of the claw mark. Right above it you had put the photo of the deaf old man, and right on the photo of the claw mark, you had 'Rowan' written in red sharpie and underlined several times.

You crossed your arms, glowering at her. The hand scuttled towards her, stopping halfway. "So you were hiding something," Wednesday says. "You know that Rowan isn't Rowan. You know he's dead."

You silently swallow, crossing the room until you are right in front of her. Wednesday's eye contact is intense, and you look down at your own notebook, feeling her watching you as you take it from her hands. You can feel her breath fanning against your face, and she smells like pomegranate and fresh petrichor. You turn the page to the drawing you've made of the creature. It's a little off; some of the details are fuzzy regarding last night. But it's the creature as best as you can remember it, and Wednesday nods.

"That's what I saw, too. That's what I want to find," she says. "That's what you're going to help me find."

This time, you can't find it in yourself to refuse.

===+++===

this was the first episode and a bit of episode 2. i really liked doing the mute reader but boy is it hard to write communication without dialogue. it does so much heavy lifting for characterisation. can't wait to see where this one goes, and it'll probably take me two or three parts to get through the whole season, is my hope.

#letorip #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams x you

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awritersbro · 9 months ago

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Tags by @frogeyedape: #in communities with few deaf people there may be an individual sign language for each family group with the deaf person limited to#badically only talking with extended family#*basically#in other communities with very large deaf populations there may be more of a city-wide SL dialect#gretchen mcculloch and lauren gawne have some great podcast/video episodes with deaf signers on such topics#the podcast is lingthusiasm#it's really heartening to see deaf linguists researching various SLs around the world

this is a niche one but instead of "they would not fuckin say that" it's "they would not fucking use American sign language".

ASL is not the only sign language. two british characters in your fanfiction would not be using ASL. England in fact has its own kind of sign language, BSL, that forms a sign family with many other sign languages around the world.

ASL isn't even the original member of its sign family, it comes from french sign language. do you know sign languages aren't related to spoken languages? that's an important one! it's not a direct 1:1 with people speaking English around the world. people in other countries don't learn ASL just in case they run into an usamerican or Canadian (who do often use it)

i know the entire world is the USA or whatever and sign languages do sometimes borrow from ASL for signs they don't have, but please be aware that there are other sign languages and families in the world that are not in fact ASL.

#Also might i add:#ASL isn't even the only widely-used sign language in America.#Signed Exact English exists #And i don't know enough about the Deaf community or SEE to say anything more about it #i don't even know if it counts as its own language or if its basically just fingerspelling but for morphemes

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incognit0slut · 3 months ago

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Lesson learned

PART 3 OF KINKTOBER | MAIN MASTERLIST

Unit Chief!Spencer x BAU!Reader Your boss decides to teach you a lesson when you question the motivations behind a certain case.

Content: (18+) 6k, breath play, fingering, a little case description, BDSM discussion, softdom Spence but borderlines to dom because hello this is breath play and reader being judgy judgy but don’t worry he’s here to teach you a lesson or two a/n: The initial plan was to make him a hard dom but breathplay is already overwhelming so I decided to go the educational route. I am, by all means, not as smart as him, so there might be some inaccuracy

You would think that after joining the BAU for two years, you’d start to understand the twisted logic of a criminal’s mind. But you don’t. Not really. You’ve dissected motives, uncovered patterns, and profiled suspects more times than you can count, and yet this case makes no sense.

Your eyes go over the photographs pinned to the board again. And again. And again. It’s become almost a ritual now, like maybe if you look at it just one more time, the pieces might finally fall into place. But all you find staring back at you are three victims with the same marks on their necks. There was clearly a sign of struggle, but not one of fear. Not one that fits any pattern you know.

“I don’t get it,” you say. “The profile suggests the victims knew their attacker, but this doesn’t look like anything close to rage. Or brutality.”

Spencer shifts beside you, his shoulder brushing lightly against yours as he leans closer to the board. “It might not have been an act of violence,” he observes thoughtfully. “Not in the traditional sense, anyway.”

You furrow your brow. “If it wasn’t violent, then what was it?”

“The bruising pattern is too symmetrical, and there’s no sign of panic or defensive wounds on their hands. I think there’s a chance the victims might have willingly participated.”

“Willingly?” Your eyes snap at him. “What do you mean, ‘willingly participated’? No one willingly gets strangled.”

He meets your eyes for a second before looking back at the board. “I know it sounds unlikely,” he admits, “but not impossible. See how the bruises are evenly spaced? They wrap around in perfect circles. The pressure is distributed just enough to leave a mark but not to crush the windpipe.“

“Spencer, that’s exactly what happened. The windpipe was crushed.”

“Yes, but not immediately. That’s the point.” He turns towards you again. “The intention wasn’t to kill them outright. The unsub wanted to bring them to the point of unconsciousness but not over it. At least, not at first. He was counting on their trust before pushing it too far.”

You let out a huff. “That’s insane.”

“It might seem that way to you, but it’s not unheard of. Sexual asphyxiation is a consensual act for some people. The lack of oxygen when someone’s airflow is restricted can trigger a euphoric sensation which intensifies pleasure."

You stare at him like he’s just spoken a different language. “So, you're saying they get off on... not breathing?”

“More like they find excitement in giving up that control."

You cross your arms and study him, tilting your head with a skeptical frown. “How do you even know this?”

The corner of his mouth twitches in a half-smile. “I read,” he says simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“You have a book on sexual asphyxiation?”

“It’s more comprehensive than that. The book covers a wide range of kinks, fetishes, and other forms of sexual exploration which are considered extreme by societal standards.”

"You’re telling me you read up on BDSM practices in your spare time?”

"I think of it as research,” he replies. “It’s part of understanding human behavior. You can’t afford to be ignorant about the complexities of people's desires."

"Huh." Your eyes travel back to the images again. "You know, I still don't understand. I mean, willingly letting someone cut off your breath? That’s not just trust that’s… I don’t know, crazy?”

His eyes narrow towards you as if he's carefully considering how much to say.

“It's not crazy,” he insists carefully. “For people who engage in it, it’s not only about losing control. It’s about reaching a heightened state of awareness, finding excitement in walking that line.”

"But what if that line gets crossed? What then? How could anyone think that sounds… fun?”

“Well, have you ever tried it?”

“Of course not!” you reply quickly, almost laughing at the absurdity. “Why would I?”

“Then you wouldn’t know,” he counters, his tone calm but pointed, like he’s presenting a fact rather than an opinion. “You can’t really understand the mindset until you’ve experienced it. It’s not something you can fully grasp from the outside.”

"I don’t think I could ever trust someone enough to do that to me."

“Maybe you just haven’t found the right person to trust.”

You scoff. “What? Are you offering?”

You laugh at your own joke, and you expected him to do the same. Or perhaps a quick “Of course not”, even some rambling about how he didn’t mean it that way. But when all you’re met with is silence, your laughter dies down, and your eyes dart back to him.

Spencer’s not looking at you, his eyes are fixed on the photographs pinned to the board. He’s studying the bruises, the faces, the details like he always does, but there’s a stillness in his expression, a tension in the set of his jaw that makes you think he’s considering something else entirely. And for a moment, you’re not sure if he’s really thinking about the victims or the case at all.

Maybe you shouldn’t joke about things like that. He is your boss, after all, and even though there isn’t exactly a strict superior-subordinate dynamic between the two of you—he’s always been more of a peer than an authority figure—you wonder if maybe this time you crossed a line.

Spencer’s eyes remain on the photos for a long, agonizing second, and you think maybe he’s not going to respond at all. But then, slowly, he turns his head and looks at you, and the room suddenly feels impossibly small.

“If I were to offer,” he says quietly, “Would you take it?”

His words knock the breath from your lungs, and all you can do is stare back at him. You don’t know what to make of the question. Was it a dare? A test? Or perhaps something more?

There’s a part of you that wants to laugh it off. The conversation was absurd to begin with, so brushing it away like it’s nothing would feel like the safest option. The easy way out. But there’s another part—one you don’t want to acknowledge—that can’t help but wonder what it would mean to say yes.

What if you did? you ponder.

What would it feel like to trust someone like that?

What would it feel like to trust him?

But before you can reply, the door to the meeting room creaks open, the noise echoing through the dimly lit space of the police precinct. A uniformed officer pokes his head inside.

“Dr. Reid, we found a new lead on the vehicle.”

Spencer’s eyes stay locked on yours for just a beat longer as your heart hammers in your chest. Then, without a word, he nods to the officer, and any trace of whatever passed between you dissolves like it never happened at all.

The next few days turn into a blur. The lead on the unsub’s vehicle takes you across town, a chase that ends with the suspect cornered in an abandoned old house. It’s almost anticlimactic how quickly it all happens—sirens blaring, doors kicked in, and in less than an hour, the unsub is in handcuffs. The case is finally closed, and it’s the kind of victory that usually brings a sigh of relief.

But today, you can’t find that peace.

Back at the precinct, the rest of the team has already moved on to debriefing. You’re left cleaning up the mess of photographs and notes scattered across the table. But your movements are slow, distracted, your fingers fumbling over the papers. There’s a prickling awareness that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, and you know exactly why.

It’s because Spencer is watching you. You don’t even need to look to feel the weight of his gaze. He’s leaning casually against the doorframe, hands tucked in his pockets, but there’s nothing casual about the way his eyes track your movements.

You pause, photos in hand, and finally address him. “What?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he pushes off the wall and starts walking toward you. He stops just short of arm’s length.

“Have you thought about what we discussed the other day?”

You feel a rush of embarrassment, and the awkwardness of the moment makes you shift uncomfortably. Clearing your throat, you turn your attention back to the table, hastily grabbing a stack of photographs and shuffling them into a folder.

“We didn’t discuss anything,” you mumble, avoiding his gaze. “It was just a joke.”

“Was it? You don’t joke about things like that unless you’ve thought about them at least a little.”

You let out a dry laugh, keeping your eyes firmly on the table. “I wasn’t being serious. We were in the middle of a case, and we were all exhausted. I just said whatever came to mind.”

Spencer tilts his head, the way he does when he’s analyzing something, his eyes flickering over your face as though he’s cataloging every twitch of your expression.

“Maybe,” he concedes, and takes another step forward. “But the offer wasn’t a joke, and you didn’t say no.”

Your fingers freeze over the photographs, the papers crinkling under your touch.

“I didn’t say yes either.”

You mentally wince at how weak that sounds, almost as if you’re trying to convince yourself. You slowly look up at him, searching his face for any sign of hesitation, but all you find are those intense brown eyes staring back at you.

It unnerves you how calm he is, how easily he��s holding this conversation when your mind is spinning in a million directions.

“You do realize what you’re offering?” you start to press, feeling the need to put it out in the open. “What this means?”

Spencer doesn’t flinch, doesn’t break eye contact for a second. “I do.”

“Do you? Because it seems to me like you might be taking this too lightly."

“I’m not taking it lightly. I’m acknowledging that there’s more to it than what you’re seeing on the surface.”

“And what makes you think I want to see beyond the surface?”

He leans in closer. Close enough to feel the warmth of his breath, but not enough to cross any boundaries. “I’m offering a perspective, not forcing you to accept it. Understanding doesn’t always come from reading about something. It comes from experience.”

You can’t quite decide if his words make sense or if they’re completely absurd. It’s like he’s challenging your logic, your assumptions, but at the same time, there’s a strange clarity to what he’s saying.

“Why does it matter so much to you?”

Because he’s your boss? Because someone in his position always tries to make sense of everything for everyone else?

“Because shaming people for their interests, for something they might find pleasure in… it isn’t fair, and it isn’t right.”

Now that was something you didn’t expect him to say.

“I wasn’t shaming,” you protest quickly, the words coming out defensive even to your own ears. “I was just…”

“Curious,” he finishes for you. “And curiosity isn’t a flaw. Neither is wanting to understand, and if you’re willing to explore that curiosity, then I’d rather you experience it in a way that’s safe. That you know is controlled.”

“So what?” you snap back. “You want to prove me wrong? Show me I’ve been looking at this the wrong way?”

A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, but it’s not playful. It’s gentle, almost thoughtful, as if he’s carefully weighing each word. “No,” he says softly. “I don’t want to prove you wrong. I want to teach you.”

You blink at him. You open your mouth, but nothing comes out at first, the words tangled somewhere between shock and disbelief. It takes a few seconds until you manage to find your voice.

“You… want to teach me?”

“A lesson, if you will,” he explains, and the way he says it—so calm, so certain—makes your heart stutter. “Not to prove you wrong, but to help you understand. You have your perceptions about… control and trust. I think the only way to really understand is to experience it yourself.”

You don’t know what to say, what to do, and all that comes out is a shaky, barely-there laugh.

“A lesson,” you repeat, trying to make sense of the concept.

He nods, and there’s no pressure in his voice, just an offer. Simple and clear. “But only if it’s what you want.”

You aren’t sure what to feel, much less what to say, and the uncertainty must show on your face. Sensing your hesitation, Spencer takes a step back, giving you space.

“It’s a lot to consider, and I’m not expecting an answer now. But the offer still stands… whenever you’re ready.”

And with that, he gives you one last smile and turns away, leaving you alone with your conflicted thoughts.

You’re pacing in your hotel room, your footsteps muffled by the worn carpet as you make the same path back and forth over and over again. Every time you try to sit down, your leg bounces with restless energy, so you’re back up again, moving without purpose but unable to stop.

You tell yourself it’s just stress. The case, the pressure, the weirdness of being in a small-town motel with creaky walls and awful lighting. But you know better. You know exactly what’s got your mind spinning and your stomach doing flips.

Spencer. And his damn offer.

You scoff to yourself, trying to laugh it off like you always do, but the joke doesn’t land when it’s just you, alone with your thoughts. And, really, what’s the harm in admitting the truth—to yourself, at least? That maybe the whole concept doesn’t seem as insane as it did a few days ago. That maybe you’ve found yourself wondering what it would feel like to trust someone that much.

You stop pacing, staring at your reflection in the mirror across the room. There it is, that nagging curiosity, that flicker of intrigue that Spencer saw before you even knew it was there. You let out a sigh, the weight of the realization hitting you.

God help you, but you’re actually curious.

And that might just be the scariest part of all.

You slip into your shoes and take a deep breath before stepping into the hallway. The motel’s quiet, most of the rooms dark as you walk past, and for a moment you hesitate, wondering if this is a mistake. The team’s staying one more night here, the last bit of downtime before flying back tomorrow. A chance to decompress, to shake off the adrenaline of the case. Yet here you are, anything but relaxed, heading out because you can’t stand one more second of pacing back and forth.

Your footsteps come to a stop outside Spencer’s room, and you stare at the numbers on the plaque for a moment. You could turn around right now. You could pretend you didn’t walk all the way down the corridor with his words echoing in your head. But as much as you try to convince yourself that walking away is the logical choice, your hand moves on its own, and you knock.

Spencer doesn’t look surprised when he opens the door. Without waiting for an invitation, you push past him, barging into the room before you change your mind.

“If we’re going to do this, I have some ground rules,” you blurt out, the words rushing out all at once. “I don’t know what you think this is going to be like, but I need control over some things. Non-negotiable.”

He closes the door with a soft click. “Of course,” he responds calmly. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“First,” you say, spinning around to face him. “I’m in control of when this starts and when it stops. If I say no, then we stop. Immediately. No questions, no convincing, none of that.”

“Absolutely.”

“Second, I need to know exactly what we’re doing. No surprises. You explain everything to me before we do anything.”

He quickly nods.

“And third… this doesn’t leave this room. We don’t talk about it to anyone else. Not tomorrow, not next week, not ever.”

He takes a step forward towards you. “This stays between us.”

You let out a shaky breath, the adrenaline settling into a nervous, thrumming pulse beneath your skin. “Okay,” you mumble, more to yourself than to him, trying to process the reality of what you’ve just laid out. “Those are my rules.”

Spencer takes another step forward, close enough now that you can smell the faintest trace of him. A mix of something clean and warm, like soap and worn cotton, an understated scent that’s distinctly him.

“Then those are the rules we follow,” he reassures you. “Your terms. Your pace.”

“Thank you.”

He nods his head again. “Is there anything else you want to discuss?”

There is, actually. There’s a question that’s been hovering in the back of your mind. It feels awkward to say out loud, but the uncertainty gnaws at you, and finally, you force the words out.

“Are we… are we going to have sex?”

He holds your gaze. “Do you want to have sex?”

You go quiet again, letting the silence settle around you as you think about what you want, what you came here for. You slowly shake your head. “No,” you reply. “No, I don’t.”

“Then we won’t. There’s more to explore in this than just sex.”

“Right, that’s—good.” You clear your throat. “I have… one more question.”

He gestures for you to continue.

“You’re not going to fire me for this, are you?”

His soft chuckle fills your ear, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him genuinely smile tonight. “No,” he confirms, amusement flickering in his eyes. “I’m not going to fire you. Whatever happens between us won’t affect your work, I promise.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, feeling a little of the weight lift off your shoulders.

“Okay, so… now what?”

“Now,” he says gently, “We take it slow.“

He guides you toward the edge of the bed, and you find yourself moving automatically, sitting down on the mattress. The bed creaks slightly as he settles beside you.

“If we’re going to do this,” he starts, turning slightly to face you. “I want you to be comfortable. And that means talking. You can start by telling me what you’re thinking. ”

“That’s… it? We’re just going to talk?”

Spencer’s mouth lifts into a soft smile. “Yes,” he confirms, “If that’s what you want. There’s no pressure to do anything else.”

The idea of just talking feels safe, but there’s also a flicker of curiosity that you can’t quite shake. You shift on the bed.

“What if I want to do something more?”

Spencer’s eyes search yours, and he doesn’t move closer, doesn’t do anything that could make the moment feel rushed. “If you want to, then we can. Something simple to start.”

Your fingers trace the fabric of the bedspread. “Like what?”

“Something small. It could be as simple as letting me guide your breathing. A way to practice trust without anything overwhelming.”

You swallow, the idea feeling both intimidating and oddly… reassuring. There’s comfort in the way he talks about it, the lack of pressure, and the way he makes it feel like there’s nothing to fear.

“Okay,” you agree softly. “Let’s try that.”

He moves a little closer to you. “We’ll take it slow,” he promises. “Try to focus on your breathing and follow my lead.”

You close your eyes, feeling your breath shallow and quick, your heart racing as you try to find a steady rhythm.

“Take a deep breath,” he instructs softly. You inhale deeply, feeling the air fill your lungs, and when you open your eyes for a moment, you find his face inches from yours.

“Good. Now let it out… slowly.”

You follow his lead, exhaling, and you can’t help but notice he’s mirroring your breathing—his chest rising and falling in time with yours. It’s oddly comforting, and a little unnerving, like he's syncing with the rhythm of your pulse.

“Again,” he guides. “Deep breath in… hold for a count of three… then let it go.”

You do as he says, feeling your nerves steady slightly with each breath. In, hold, out.

“You’re doing really well,” he murmurs, leaning just a fraction closer. His lips are so close that you can feel his breath brushing your skin. “I’m going to ask you something, but I need you to know you can say no. At any point.”

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak.

“Can I touch you?” he asks gently, his words so soft they almost melt into the air around you. “Just on your shoulder, or your hand. I want to see how you feel about being touched while you focus on your breathing.”

Your heartbeat thuds in your ears, but you manage another nod. His hand moves carefully to rest on your shoulder, but even with the light pressure, you feel your body stiffen. Spencer notices immediately.

“You’re tense,” he observes, his thumb brushing lightly against your shoulder.

You let out a small laugh, one that comes out more like a nervous exhale than anything close to amusement. “It’s kind of hard not to be,” you admit. “I guess I’m a little nervous.”

“That’s okay. It’s completely normal to feel nervous.” He pauses for a second before continuing, his tone thoughtful, like he’s considering what might actually help. "There are a few things that can help when you’re feeling this way. One of them is focusing on your breathing, which we’re already doing. But there’s also physical touch."

"Physical touch?”

"Kissing, for example," he explains, “can actually help regulate your nervous system. It releases oxytocin, lowers cortisol levels. Basically, it signals your body to relax."

Your eyes fall on his lips. "Really?"

A flicker of a smile plays at the corners of his mouth. “Yes, but it’s only helpful if it’s something you feel comfortable with.” He tilts his head slightly, studying you. “Would you like to try?”

You meet his gaze again and, before you can overthink it, find yourself nodding, swallowing the nervous lump in your throat. “Yeah… okay. We can try.”

Before you even finish the sentence, Spencer leans in, his lips brushing yours with the kind of gentleness that catches you off guard. It's soft at first, like he’s testing the waters, and you can feel the slight hesitation in his movements as if he’s making sure you’re comfortable. It’s sweet, almost too sweet, and for a second, you wonder if this is how he kisses—gentle, thoughtful, deliberate.

But as the kiss deepens, you feel the warmth of him pulling you in. Your heart’s doing this erratic thing where it skips every other beat, and your mind’s racing to catch up with what your body’s already starting to enjoy. And sure, maybe the science behind this kiss makes sense after all, because there’s a part of you that’s actually relaxing, even with the buzz of nerves still humming beneath the surface.

Then he pulls back, just enough for your lips to barely part, his breath warm against your skin. “How are you feeling?”

It takes three heartbeats to find your voice. “Uh... yeah, good,” you manage, a little breathless, a little more flustered than you’d like to admit.

“Do you want to keep going?”

You pause, thinking it over, and despite the swarm of nerves in your chest, curiosity wins out again. You nod, maybe a little too quickly. The moment you do, Spencer leans in again, and this time his kiss is deeper, more intent. The softness is still there, but there’s a quiet intensity in the way his lips move against yours, the way his hand lightly cups the back of your neck.

Then his tongue brushes lightly against your lower lip, and a ripple of goosebumps spreads across your skin. You part your lips for him, and the sensation of his tongue slipping past m has you gripping the fabric of his shirt a little tighter.

Just when you think you’re getting used to it, his hand shifts, sliding up to wrap gently around the front of your neck. Not tight, not restricting—just enough to make you aware of it. The warmth of his palm against your throat sends a jolt of something sharp right through you. He seems to notice instantly, and without pulling his hand away, he breaks the kiss.

“Are you okay?” His thumb gently strokes the side of your neck. “I don’t want to push you, if it’s too much—”

But before he can finish, you shake your head quickly, surprising even yourself with how fast the words leave your mouth. “No, I… trust you.”

His eyes soften at your words, and his grip on your neck stays gentle, almost protective. “Would it be okay if I touched you more?”

Your pulse beats rapidly beneath his fingers, a rhythm you’re sure he can feel, as if your heart is answering for you. “…yes.”

“Do you want to lie down? Would that be more comfortable?”

You feel the heat travel along your veins. “I think… that would be good.”

Spencer nods as he helps you shift back onto the pillow. He stays close but doesn’t crowd you, his hand returning to rest lightly on your neck, that same soft pressure that keeps your heartbeat thrumming in your ears.

“Remember, focus on your breathing,” he reminds you. “The way your body responds is tied to how much you let yourself feel. Trust that.”

His other hand begins to move. His hand trails up toward your shoulder, then lightly brushes over your breast. It’s barely a touch at first, like he’s testing the boundaries, waiting for your body to tell him how far to go. Your breath catches for a second, but when you don’t tense up, he takes that as a sign to continue.

“Is this alright?”

“Yeah,” you manage to whisper, your voice a little breathless than you expected. And, God, you mean it. It’s more than okay—it’s… unexpectedly good in a way that feels almost too intimate to think about.

His hand moves lower now, tracing a path down your side, before sliding gently across your leg. You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until you feel his fingers brush against the inside of your thigh.

“How about this?”

You nod, biting your lip as you meet his gaze.

Spencer’s lips curls into the faintest smile. His hand inches higher, moving up your thigh with excruciating slowness until his fingers finally reach the heat between your legs.

Oh. Oh.

Your hips instinctively tilt toward him, your body responding before your mind can even catch up. The heat pooling low in your belly intensifies as his fingers press lightly against you.

“Still with me?”

You nod, but internally, your mind is spinning. He begins to move in slow, circular motions, his fingers dragging against the fabric in a way that makes you bite back a moan. The friction sends jolts of pleasure through you, and you can feel your arousal sticking uncomfortably to your panties. It doesn’t shock you—you know understand how being touched like this will make you wet—but what surprises you is how much more intense it feels when his grip around your neck tightens.

Your breath hitches, and before you can stop yourself, a moan escapes your lips.

He pauses for a moment, his grip relaxing just enough for you to catch your breath. “I want you to feel the difference,” he explains. “The pressure changes everything. It makes you more aware of every sensation, more focused on how your body responds. But if it’s too much, you tell me, okay?”

You nod, your breath still coming in uneven gasps. “I’m good.”

His thumb traces the outline of your jaw. “Do you want me to continue?”

“…yeah.”

His hand travels towards your hips, fingers toying with the waistband of your pants. “Should we get rid of these?”

You don’t have to think about it for long. The answer is already there.

“You can take them off.”

Spencer’s fingers slip beneath the waistband of your pants before tugging it down. But as the fabric pools around your ankles, you hesitate for a second before your hand instinctively reaches for your shirt. You fumble with the hem, glancing at him as you pull it halfway up, your breath coming out in a small, awkward laugh.

“I mean, it’d feel weird to be naked from the waist down and still… you know, fully dressed on top.”

His eyes linger on you, and his reaction is subtly amusing. “Whatever makes you comfortable.”

Without thinking too much about it, you tug the shirt over your head, tossing it aside. Your bra follows, quickly joined by your panties, and before you know it, you’re lying naked on your boss’s bed.

Or, technically, the bed he’s been sleeping on these past couple of days.

Spencer’s eyes move over you slowly, lingering on the curve of your perky breasts, your smooth skin, and the unmistakable wetness between your thighs. His gaze is careful, appreciative but never lingering too long in one place, like he’s taking you in while still giving you space to breathe.

“You’re so pretty.”

Pretty? The word feels almost quaint given the situation, but the way he says it makes it feel like it’s more than that. Like he’s seeing all of you, the parts you don’t often reveal, and he still thinks you’re beautiful.

And somehow, that simple compliment leaves you more exposed than the fact that you’re lying naked in front of him.

“I can’t believe we're doing this,” you admit, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

His hand brushes along your arm. “You don’t have to overthink it. You’re in control here. We can stop whenever you want.”

“I know.”

He tilts your head with his hand. “Is this okay so far?”

You offer him a smile. “It’s okay.”

His other hand lands on your knee. “Can you spread your legs for me?”

You feel the nerves buzzing beneath your skin, but there’s also a warmth, a curiosity, a pull toward him. You inhale deeply, letting the breath steady your nerves, and then, without letting your mind spiral any further, you slowly part your legs.

His palm glides along your inner thigh, and then he touches you again, only this time, there’s no barrier between you. You can feel the rough pad of his fingertips as they gently caress your folds that it pulls a sharp breath from your lips.

“Does this feel good?”

You nod. It’s more than just good—it’s everything. The way he’s paying attention to every inch of your body is overwhelming in the best way. His fingers trace a slow path along your skin, finally pausing as they brush against you between your folds. Without hesitation, Spencer slides a finger inside you. The sudden stretch pulls a gasp from your lips.

The slick wetness between your thighs coats his fingers almost instantly, and you feel yourself responding to him, opening up in ways you didn’t even know you could. He studies the way his finger moves in and out of your cunt, and the more he touches you, the more your hips begin to move on their own.

He takes your response as a sign to continue.

"I'm going to wrap my hand around your neck again," he tells you, without waiting for more than a slight nod of your head, his fingers curl around your throat.

"The pressure here," he begins, his thumb lightly pressing at the side of your neck. "Isn't just about cutting off your air, it also means restricting blood flow to your brain.”

He pushes another finger inside you, and the increased fullness draws a sharp intake of breath from you.

“By limiting the blood flow like this,” he continues, applying a bit more pressure around your throat. "It triggers your body to release adrenaline and dopamine. That rush you’re feeling? It’s your body chasing euphoria."

Euphoria. You never really thought about it like this before, how something so controlled could unlock a part of your body that felt so overwhelming. The feeling isn’t just pleasure, it’s a raw intensity that borders on something deeper as your cunt clenches around him. Your breath stutters, caught in a sharp contrast between the slow burn in your throat and the urgent heat flaring between your legs.

He’s unraveling you, pulling you apart thread by thread, yet leaving you desperate for the moment he puts you back together again.

You need more.

“You’re doing so well,” he murmurs soothingly. The words send a new wave of heat rushing through your body. Your hips move restlessly, and you can hear the soft whine escaping your throat, growing louder with each thrust.

Spencer notices immediately, his fingers slowing just for a moment. “Too much?”

You quickly shake your head, almost frantic, the last thing you want is for him to stop. The moment you do, his grip on your throat tightens slightly and your eyes flutter closed as a wave of euphoria washes over you. Head falling back against the pillows, your vision starts to blur. You feel the air restrict in your throat.

“I need you to breathe for me, sweetheart.” His thumb strokes lightly against your neck. “The more you control your breathing, the better it’ll feel.”

That word alone almost undoes you. It rolls off his tongue like it’s meant to be soft and soothing, but instead, it sends a bolt of pleasure straight through you. Your chest rises and falls as you do exactly what he says, because apparently, being called sweetheart with his fingers wrapped around your neck makes you want to obey him, more than you’d care to admit.

"That’s it, keep focusing on your breathing."

You force your eyes open, but everything feels hazy, unfocused. You’re not sure if it's from the lack of air or the way he’s looking at you, but you can feel yourself losing control. Your eyes flutter half-closed again, lips parting in a breathless moan, and before you realize it, your tongue slips out, barely grazing your lower lip.

Spencer knows you’re close. His thumb presses just a little harder against your throat, not enough to stop you from breathing, but enough for your inner walls to grip his fingers tightly.

“I know, I know, I've got you,” he whispers. “You’re doing so good, sweetheart. Just let go whenever you’re ready."

You can’t decide if the sound of his voice is making it easier or harder to hold on. There’s a brief moment where you think you might hold it together, but then your body betrays you. Your muscles tense, your breath catches in your throat, and all the control you had slips away in an instant. It’s as if your brain is giving in to exactly what he said it would—a surge of chemicals that makes your limbs feel heavy and light all at once.

Your orgasm slams right into you, the most intense thing you’ve ever felt. It floods your senses so completely that your lungs struggle to catch up. The tremors rack your body, and it’s only when your legs give a final, uncontrollable shake that he finally releases your neck, allowing the air to rush back into your lungs in a dizzying, breathless moment of relief.

Before you can fully recover, his lips are on yours in an instant. He moves against your neck, kissing the very spot where his hand had held you. “Shhh, it’s okay, you’re okay.”

When you manage to catch your breath and blink through the lingering haze, he lies down on the bed and pulls you into his arms. It takes a whole minute before your breathing fully steadies, his hand stroking your hair the entire time.

“How are you feeling?”

You don’t know what to make of it all, so you laugh breathlessly instead, the only response you can muster.

“Like I’m about to pass out.”

“What?” He looks at you in alarm. “You are?”

You shake your head quickly, offering him a small smile. “No, no, I’m fine. It’s just… it was really intense.” But the worry doesn’t completely leave his face, so you try again, placing your hand on his chest. “Good intense. I’m okay, I promise.”

He lets out a slow breath and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “So I take it you liked it?”

A flush of embarrassment washes over you, and you can’t quite meet his eyes as you nod. “Yeah… I did,” you admit, your voice soft, almost sheepish. “Go ahead, you can gloat. Tell me I was wrong.”

Instead of taking the bait, he gently traces his fingers along your neck. “It was never about proving you wrong. The judgment you made that day, about not getting why someone would like this… it’s hard to fully grasp until you feel it yourself.”

“I wasn’t judging,” you murmur, feeling a need to defend yourself.

“Maybe not intentionally,” he says thoughtfully. “When it comes to BDSM, there’s a lot of misunderstanding or assumptions people make from the outside, it’s really more than just control or pain. There’s trust, communication, boundaries. And I think, in a way, that’s what happened tonight. You trusted me enough to let go.”

You’re quiet for a moment, processing what he’s saying. “Are you suggesting I could be into all of this?”

“Not necessarily,” he replies carefully. “But I think it’s possible that there’s more to it than you realize. You trusted me tonight, and that’s the most important part. That’s where it all starts.”

You chew on his words for a second. It’s not something you’d ever considered before, but now that he’s brought it up, you can’t deny that the thought has sparked something.

“So you think I might want to explore this further?”

His lips curl into a soft smile. “It’s not about what I think. It’s about what you want. If you’re curious, then we can explore it together.” He leans in slightly. “Is that you want?”

The spark you felt moments ago? It flickers stronger now. The idea is both thrilling and terrifying, but with him, it feels… possible. Safe, even.

You feel a tightness in your chest.

“I think… maybe, yeah.”

His smile deepens just a fraction. “We’ll take our time,” he reassures you, his thumb brushing lightly over your throat. “We can talk about this when we get back. You need to rest for now.”

You shift closer to him, feeling the rustle of his clothes against your bare skin. “Can I stay here tonight?”

His chin lands on top of your head. “You can stay with me as long as you want.”

What a dangerous offer, you think as you sink further into his arms. But not as dangerous as the way your heart flutters at the thought.

#kinktober 2024 #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid x fem!reader smut #spencer reid fanfiction

2K notes · View notes

harmoonix · 3 months ago

Text

Birds of a feather🦢

~ Random Astrology Observations ~

~If my soul would be a song. This would definitely be the one. 😭💘~ I am obsessed

🪷 Pisces in your big 3 (Sun, Moon, Rising) may dream a lot about their partners or future/potential partners

🦢 Moon aspecting Venus can make the native so sacrificial in their relationships especially on the emotional part of a relationship

💘 Moon - Ascendant aspects, their sensible nature can be attractive to others, you just want to protect them and keep them safe

✨️ Not many people know this but Leo Placements are so caring in their relationships, even if they don't give that vibe

🕯 Pluto - Venus aspects can become obsessed to their partners, falling for them every chance they get

🔥 A fire Venus in the chart can love so deep that their love is exactly like an arrow striking the heart, is so unexpected but so lovely in the same time

💚 Earth Moons and Venus are the most comforting when they're together with their partners! They partners can be their safe space

💆‍♀️ Air Moons may share a common love language with their partners, especially if it involves communication

💬 Sometimes, it is hard to tell how deeply in love Scorpio Venus is. This Venus placement can be so deep even for Venus herself

🙊 Gemini Moons/Mercury/Venus may share a lot of jokes together with their partners. Their partners make them laugh a lot

──────────────────────

I want you to stay

Til I'm in the grave

──────────────────────

💯 Pisces Venus can give you the moon from the sky when they are deeply in love/they attach extremely fast (Yall know how much obsessed I am with Pisces Venus🙂‍↕️)

🫶🏼 Venus - Jupiter aspects are so 'You're my happy place' coded. Jupiter intensifies Venus love for that specific person

💖 If you plan to have a wedding and you have Cancer or Libra Venus/Moon, the honeymoon can be a beautiful experience in your life

🦭 Part of fortune in the 7th house can symbolize 'Fated Love' so much. Is such a 'to die for placement

🦋 Capricorn Placements can also attach fast to the people they love. Even if often they are seen as cold people, their love is something truly something else

🏵 Saturn in the 7th house natives can indicate not having as many relationships as others, low body count too, sometimes can even indicate the native falling in love for the first time

👻 Venus in the 10th house or 11th house can become more known for dating certain people, or become more famous because of their relationship

😹 Most times, mercury in the 5th and 7th house like to talk about their experiences with love to other people can share the same love life stories with others

💖 Venus in the 2nd house or Taurus may spoil or be spoiled by their partners, it can also be their love language to do it so

❤️‍🩹 Chiron in the 5th or 7th house can learn a lot from other people experience with love. Can stand up to help others with their romantic lives

🤍 Sometimes your 7th house sign can also tell you the season you can fall in love, for example Cancer Risings can fall in love more in winter due to their 7th house being a winter sign (Capricorn) and so many more!!

🫡 I feel like 7th house in air signs people just need a partner who can understand them deeply, to understand their needs and desires

🤖 Venus in Aquarius/11th house can fall in love on internet/dating sites. There are so many possibilities. To be honest, dating online is slowly fading away

👨‍❤️‍👨👩‍❤️‍👩 A strong Saturn/Uranus can be often found in people who are attracted to the same gender! There are charts out there who can give a lot of lgbt vibes btw!!

👸 Leo Venus/Mercury/5th, 7th or 8th house treat their partners with such good love/attention and care, like some royalty

──────────────────────

Til the light leaves my

eyes

──────────────────────

💌 Jupiter in the 5th house can be often found in charts of people who can marry/date people from their childhood 'we know since kindergarten or school' vibes

💣 If your partner has a fire Mars, they will often give you mixed signals during the talking stage, fire mars natives don't always know how to handle their emotions when they're in love

😗 I find north node in Libra/7th house to be such a cute placement, romantically talking, and writing this while I have Aries north node is a pain in the ass😃

🦩 Venus at 9° 21° or 9th house can travel a lot with their partners/couple - travelling a lottt! Some of them can even have blogs or media chanels where they can talk about that

🪼 Knowing the love language of someone with Scorpio Placements can be a win for life, they can love you forever for that

🦚 If your partner has Jupiter in Cancer, it can be an indicator of them having a big family and relatives

😊 Moon in the 9th house can be a good indicator of your partners family getting along with you! Good relations

😩 For some reason, I can't resist those with Pluto in the 1st/8th and 10th house natives. Something is so attractive about them

🤳 Sagittarius Moons can plan lots of trips/adventures together with their spouses/partners or even alone because they will always have that adventurous spirit

💗 Libra Rising will wait for the other person to do the first step in the relationship because if you didn't know this, Libra Risings stressed so much in their love life, so they will wait for the other to do something first

💥 Billie Eilish, who composed this song (Godess Behavior), has her Venus in the 10th house, indicating making her love life more public = writing songs about love and ending up successful

❤️‍🔥 Venus in Fire signs want a chill yet passionate love life. They're some fierce romantics, and they know it.

──────────────────────

I want you to see

How you look to me

──────────────────────

🤬 Mars or Aries in your 3rd house is a big indicator of not getting along with your siblings, arguing more than ever

🧗‍♂️ Venus, Sun or Moon in the 5th house can make you an addict in trying fun physical or creative activities

🧝‍♀️ Mercury rules over fantasy, mystical world, magic (to some extent), creativity is explored through your Mercury, and be proud of it

🫦 Sagittarius Placements are born with attitude, especially Rising/Mars/Venus, that person who always seems a bit more harsh

──────────────────────

But if it's forever, it's even better

──────────────────────

By Harmoonix 🤍, hope you have an amazing day 🤍🤍🤍

1K notes · View notes

dreamwritesimagines · 4 months ago

Text

Sunshine [3] - Downpour

AN: My loves, thank you so so much for your wonderful support and lovely comments and HCs! ❤️ You're amazing! ❤️

I hope you like this as well, and please don't forget to tell me what you think, thank you! 🥰

Thanks to @chibi-lioness for beta reading!

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Summary: Evening rain comes out of nowhere.

Word Count: 4540

CW: Smoking cigars, explicit language

Series Masterlist

Fine.

Maybe you did have a crush.

And maybe the said crush was taking over all your thoughts to the point that you could barely focus on anything other than him, but that was completely normal.

Just like you and your best friend analyzing every single second of your interaction with your crush was completely normal.

“He actually lifted your car?”

You nodded your head, filling both her glass and yours with wine before tucking your legs under you.

“With one hand,” you said, leaning back to the arm of the couch. “He did that with one hand.”

“And you didn’t jump his bones right then and there?”

“No but I may have rambled about going to jail if the car fell on him and also not knowing who would take care of Theo.”

“What is that even supposed to mean?” she asked with a scoff. “I’d take care of Theo. We’d come to visit you every weekend.”

“Thanks Julie.”

“I’d even sign you up for those inmate dating websites.”

You blinked a couple of times. “Uh, no thank you.”

“Hey, if you accidentally kill the ridiculously hot mutant guy—”

“Logan.”

“Yeah, Logan. If you accidentally kill him, you might as well exchange some dirty letters with someone else.”

“Can we please focus on the fact that I actually have a crush on him?”

“We absolutely can,” Julie grinned, swirling the wine in her glass. “Aw look at you! It’s cute.”

“It’s not cute!” you whined, slipping a little on the couch. “Julie, I talk absolute nonsense whenever he and I cross paths.”

“Babe, I mean it in the best way possible,” she said and motioned at your face. “I doubt any guy really listens to any word coming out of your mouth when you look like this, so you’re fine.”

“So not true,” you stated and sipped your wine. “I mean either way, it’s not like anything could happen between us so I’ll just, you know, fantasize about him and gaze at him longingly. Should be fine.”

Julie rolled her eyes at you. “Come on.”

“No seriously, because Theo—”

“Sweetheart,” she said. “You got pregnant at 18. Don’t get me wrong, I think Theo is the most perfect kid in the entire world but keep in mind that while we were all out partying, you were taking care of a baby.”

“It’s fine, I lived vicariously through you.”

“And now that you’re in your twenties and hot as fuck,” Julie said, ignoring your comment. “You don’t think it’s time to live a little?”

“It’d confuse Theo if I started dating around, especially with Logan—”

“Fine, then don’t date Logan. Just fuck his brains out.”

“Nope,” you said, shaking your head. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“Because the moment I sleep with him, I will be trying to decide on the wallpaper of our future cabin in the woods,” you pointed out, getting a handful of popcorn from the bowl and she scoffed.

“I still can’t believe you want a cabin in the woods.”

“I want a cabin in the woods and I want a horse and a cat and two dogs,” you insisted. “Anyway, the point is, no strings attached is not a thing for me when it comes to a guy that hot. He lifted a car for me, Julie!”

“And you want him to lift you up and down repeatedly,” Julie said with a grin, making you throw a popcorn at her.

“I doubt I’m his type,” you said and she groaned.

“You cannot be serious.”

“No I am, because men like him go for…” you trailed off and threw your head back. “Ugh, I so want to show you his picture so that you’ll know what I’m talking about but I don’t have one!”

“I have this mental image of a very hot lumberjack in mind.”

“That would be correct,” you said before taking a sip of your wine, but then your phone started vibrating on the table and you frowned, then snatched it off the table when you saw the caller ID.

“Theo?” you answered immediately. “Are you alright?”

“Hi mommy!”

You let out a breath at the cheerful tone of his voice, then pressed a hand on your chest and checked the time on the phone.

“What are you doing up, bean?” you asked. “It’s late at night.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” he said. “What are you doing?”

“I’m with auntie Julie,” you said and Julie grinned.

“Hi Theo, I missed you sweetheart!” she called out, making Theo giggle.

“Hi auntie Julie!” he said. “Mommy, I thought about it, and I solved how I can have fish.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, a smile pulling at your lips as you shook your head.

“I’m listening, bean.”

“Okay so,” he said. “We will get two fish, and we will put them in an aquarium, but like a bowl, not a huge aquarium.”

You hummed.

“That’s where they’ll stay at the weekends when I’m there,” he said. “And then, on weekdays, I will bring them here, and put them in the lake, and that’s where they can stay within the week! They’d even make friends with other fish!”

You let out a small laugh.

“Theo, my love,” you said. “How will you catch them again if you put them in the lake?”

He paused for a moment.

“Um, I’d call them by their names,” he said. “Cheeto and Popcorn. They’d come.”

“Fish don’t do that baby,” you said softly. “How about you make friends with fish there in the lake and on the weekends they can just spend time with their own friends?”

“Yes but—” he started but then got distracted for a moment by something. “It’s my mom!”

“I know bub,” you heard Logan’s deep voice and your eyes widened. You sat up straight immediately, making Julie tilt her head in confusion. “Tell her I said hi.”

“Mommy, Mr. Logan says hi to you.”

“Uh, tell him I said hi back,” you said after a beat, hearing Theo parrot what you said as you covered the bottom part of the phone with your palm, then mouthed ‘Logan’ to Julie.

“What?!” she whispered and you cleared your throat.

“And tell him to please watch that you don’t have any sweets before bed, for his sake.”

“No!”

“Bean.”

“Ugh fine!” he said. “Mr Logan, my mom says please watch that I don’t have any sweets before bed for your sake.”

You could hear Logan’s chuckle, making you bite at your lip before he spoke.

“Can I borrow the phone for a minute Theo?”

Your jaw dropped and you motioned at the phone frantically, and Julie pulled you by the arm and made you lower the phone a little so that she could hear as well. You pressed your finger to your lips, signaling her to be silent before Theo’s excited “sure!” and there was a shuffling on the other line for a moment before Logan’s voice reached you again.

“So no chocolate before bed then?”

Julie gripped your wrist, mouthing “hot voice!” to you and you let out a giggle, trying to focus.

“Nope,” you said. “Trust me, it’s for your own good.”

You could hear Theo in the background; “I think I can have one chocolate.”

“No no,” you said, shaking your head. “He can’t.”

“Sorry bub, whatever your mom says goes.”

“Um, Logan,” you said, your mind going overdrive again. “If he’s up this late, he will turn the puppy dog eyes on for dessert, and he can be very, very insistent but sugar makes him incredibly energetic, and he will end up blowing a hole in the wall because of his powers so you can’t—”

“Relax princess,” Logan said and you could almost hear his faint smile. “It’s fine.”

Julie’s eyes widened and she fell on her back onto the couch dramatically, kicking her legs in the air while slapping the pillow and you stood up, your heart beating in your ears.

“How’s the car?” he asked and you licked your lips.

“Oh I changed my mechanic, so it’s at the new mechanic’s shop for a couple of days. My friend has been driving me to work—” Julie waved a hand from where she was lying down on the couch. “But apparently it’ll be fixed the day after tomorrow so it’s totally fine.”

“Are you being safe?”

“I am,” you said. “Are you?”

“Am I being safe?”

“Yeah,” you said with a smile. “What with lifting cars and stuff, it can be dangerous.”

“Half a chocolate!” Theo said as if it was the brightest idea in the world. “Half—Mr. Logan, can I have the phone back please?”

You ran a hand over your face and cleared your throat.

“Sorry about that,” you said and Logan chuckled.

“Not a problem,” he said. “Good night.”

“Good night Logan,” you said, your head spinning with excitement and you heard the shuffling, then Theo took a deep breath.

“Mommy, half a chocolate!”

“Not at night,” you said. “We’ve talked about this bean. You can have chocolate tomorrow morning after breakfast, okay?”

“But—”

“Theo,” you said. “After breakfast.”

He heaved a dramatic sigh.

“I know bean,” you said softly. “You’ll be fine, I promise.”

“Mkay,” he said with a huff. “I’m going to sleep then.”

“Okay, I love you!” you said. “Call me tomorrow and be nice to your teachers, okay?”

“I will,” he said. “Love you too!”

He hung up and you let out a breath, then tossed the phone on the couch while Julie sat up.

“Oh he talks you through it!” she said, slamming the pillow on the couch. “I just know he talks you through it!”

“Julie!” you exclaimed, your cheeks burning and she let out a laugh.

“Oh please, with that voice…”

“That’s what I mean!” you said and flung yourself on the couch. “He’s…he’s so amazing and Theo adores him and he’s so good with him too and to repeat, he lifted a car for me!”

“Aw,” Julie said. “He’s gonna be such a good stepdad to Theo.”

Your jaw dropped and you shook your head.

“We’re not even thinking about that,” you said, pointing at her. “We’re keeping our expectations very, very low, okay?”

She hummed, then tilted her head.

“Do you want to check Pinterest for cabins in the woods to see which one could be your and Logan’s in the future?”

You paused for a moment, then shrugged your shoulders.

“Yeah,” you said. “That sounds like keeping our expectations low, sure.”

Despite having drunk until midnight and consequently having a hangover in the morning, the next day went without a hitch. You’d only had a couple of rude customers, which in service industry counted as a normal day if not a good one, but because of last night you were more than ready to get home, eat a bunch of snacks and go to sleep.

Towards the end of your shift, rain started pouring and you couldn’t help the whine escaping from your lips, leaning back to the counter. You could hear your friend Stacey’s small laugh as she looked out the window, then back to you.

“It’s just summer rain love,” she said. “It’ll stop.”

“Yeah but I’ll have to walk to the subway under that rain and I don’t have a coat with me,” you pointed out. “Ugh. Great. I’ll look like a horror movie protagonist by the time I get there.”

“This is why I am a huge advocate of waterproof makeup.”

You hummed, chewing on the pen in your hand as you grabbed your phone to check the weather forecast, faintly hearing the door opening behind you.

“It says it’ll rain until—what?” you asked Stacey when you lifted your head to see her raise her brows at something by the tables area and you turned your head to look over your shoulder, your heart jumping to your throat the moment you did so.

“Logan?”

Jesus, he looked way too handsome. He gave you a small smile, running a hand through his dark hair as if he was trying to get rid of the raindrops clinging to it, then approached the counter.

“Hey.”

“H—hi!” you said, your voice going way too high-pitched all of a sudden. “Uh, welcome! It’s so nice to see you, what—what can I get you?”

“I can take his order love,” Stacey said helpfully. “Your shift is over, get home before rain gets worse.”

“No no, I can stay.”

“I’m not here to eat actually,” Logan said, making you pull back a little.

“…Is Theo okay?” you asked, your stomach dropping as the thought hit you and he nodded his head.

“Oh he’s fine don’t worry,” he quickly assured you. “He was trying to name all the fish in the lake with his friends while I was leaving. I came to take you home actually.”

You blinked a couple of times.

“You drove all the way here from the institute just to take me home?” you asked just to make sure you had heard him right and he nodded again as if it was completely normal.

“You said your car is at the mechanic’s.”

One of these days, you were going to melt into a puddle in front of him.

“You really didn’t have to,” you said. “I’d hate to be a bother, and I’m sure you have other things to do, so I can just—”

“What did we say about you being too polite?” he asked, his voice almost chiding in a teasing manner, making warmth spread from your chest to your fingertips and a smile you couldn’t stop lit up your face, making you shift your weight, way too excited to just stand there.

“Um,” you said. “Just—just wait here okay? Don’t go anywhere.”

The corner of his mouth twitched in amusement. “I won’t.”

You took a step back, and rushed to the kitchen, making the line cook turn his head.

“Hey, leaving already?”

“Yeah. Paul, where’s the pie?”

“Over there,” he said, motioning at the counter. “What’s the rush?”

You grabbed the pie to put it into the container while Stacey entered the kitchen.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend, and more importantly, why didn’t you tell me he was this hot?!”

“What boyfriend?” Paul asked and Stacey motioned at the window.

“Look, right there.”

“He is not my boyfriend,” you said, your cheeks burning and Paul stole a look out the window, then let out a whistle.

“I was going to try to win you over but holy shit, that’s one hot dude.”

“And get this, he came here to drive her home.”

“He’s just being nice.”

“Car sex in the rain, got it.”

“He is my friend!”

“Oh really? So you’d be okay if I went out there and gave him my number?”

You blinked a couple of times and scoffed a laugh.

“Yeah but he…” you trailed off, desperately trying to come up with an excuse. “He has a girlfri—he’s married,” you changed your mind mid-sentence, nodding solemnly. “Yeah. He’s not wearing a ring because he is having it cleaned, and also he has—he has this condition that he can’t have sex with anyone. A disease.”

Out of the corner of your eye through the small kitchen window, you could see Logan tilting his head like a confused puppy.

“When he does, his partner’s… lower region just falls off, and it’s very gruesome, and if you haven’t heard of that condition, it’s because he’s like the only person in the world who has it, they named the disease after him,” you added. “Doctors call him a medical wonder.”

Stacey turned to Paul.

“She’s so gonna fuck him in the car.”

“She’s not gonna do that!” you exclaimed and cleared your throat, pushing the box into a plastic bag. “I’m—I’m leaving, I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

“Theo doesn’t need a sibling yet, use protection!” Stacey teased you and you shook your head, then pushed the kitchen door and stepped out.

“Hey,” you said breathlessly, your whole face on fire and you held up the plastic bag. “The pie as promised.”

He gave you a calm smile, his eyes darting over you.

“You didn’t bring a coat?”

“Um no, but it’s fine—” you started but before you had the chance to say anything else, he had already taken his leather jacket off to put it over your shoulders.

“What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Logan said as he opened the door for you and you stepped outside, Logan gently steering you to a truck with his hand on the small of your back, making you bite back a smile. As soon as you reached the truck and got in, you let out a breath and put the plastic bag on the back seat, then put your seatbelt on. Logan got in as well, then started the engine and began driving.

“Thank you,” you murmured. “Really.”

“No problem.”

“I could just put it in the GPS or…” you trailed off when you noticed that there was no screen or phone or phone holder in sight so you nodded to yourself. “I don’t—you know, I’m against being a prisoner to technology myself so I can totally relate, and yeah I’ll just put my phone here.”

You quickly found your home address and touched the screen, then carefully placed it on the dashboard and stole a look at him.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” he said. “As long as it’s not about my condition.”

“Your condition?”

“Yeah, that disease you were talking about just now?”

Your eyes widened, your jaw dropping as embarrassment hit you, your cheeks growing hot and a whine escaped from your lips.

“You heard that?”

“Mm hm.”

You slipped a little in your seat, burying your face into your hands, the sight making him chuckle as you took a deep breath and lifted your head to look at him again.

“I can explain,” you said. “It’s just that…Stacey is—you know, she’s incredibly nice but I don’t think she’s over her last boyfriend and I was trying to spare her feelings. Wait, did you want to get her number? Because if you did—”

“No.”

A small spark of hope shot through your system.

“Oh,” you managed to say. “Okay. Um, sorry I made up a nonexistent STD about you.”

“No problem,” he said with a smirk. “But for future reference, you might want to go with the wife lie. I can’t get diseases.”

You nodded slowly. “Because of clean eating?”

“Because of the X-gene.”

You blinked a couple of times, staring at him.

“Wait, what?” you asked. “But Theo got sick multiple times after his powers showed.”

“Not for every mutant,” he said. “My body heals itself.”

“Against everything?”

“Mm hm.”

“What if we had a car crash right now?”

“I’ve been in car crashes, healed in a second.”

“What if someone attacked you with a knife?”

“Happened before, healed instantly.”

“What if someone shot you?”

“Multiple people did in multiple wars. I healed.”

You tilted your head. “I’m sorry, wars?”

“Like I said,” he said after a beat. “My body heals itself. Against injuries, and time.”

You frowned slightly, trying to make sense of what you’d just heard and as soon as the thought hit you, you gasped.

“Oh my God, Logan,” you said. “Did you know Marie Antoinette?”

“What?” he asked with a grimace, turning to look at you better. “What is it with you and Theo and France? He asked me if I knew Napoleon the other day.”

You raised your brows. “Did you?”

“No!” he said. “No, I was born in 1832.”

Holy shit, Julie was right.

You did have a thing for older men but having a crush on an almost 200-year-old man was just a little bit excessive, even for you.

A silence fell upon the car and he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. “You okay there?”

“Yeah, just in disbelief,” you muttered. “Do you miss it? Back then?”

He shook his head.

“Not really,” he said. “It was terrible. Now is better, it’s just a little too...”

“Chaotic?” you asked and he scoffed, then nodded.

“Yeah,” he said. “A little too chaotic.”

“I mean I wasn’t born in the 19th century but I know what you mean,” you said. “Seriously, if I could just live in a cabin in the woods with Theo and a cat, two dogs and a horse, I’d do it. I even have all their names.”

“What are the names?”

“I’m glad you asked,” you said. “The cat will be Catapult—”

“Are you seriously going to name your cat after a pun?”

“Damn right I am,” you said, counting with your fingers. “The dogs are Underdog and Overdog.”

“Jesus.”

“And the horse’s name used to be Princess Pink Sparkle Her Highness when I was six, but now I think I’m just going to name her Hi-Horse so that someone can tell me to get off my high horse one day.”

Logan looked like he was in actual pain for some reason.

“But listen, the list used to go like, a cat, a dog and a horse, and I figured like, if I get one dog, why not have two, you know?” you asked. “I couldn’t possibly leave Underdog without a friend, because as much as I love cats, they can be kind of assholes sometimes to dogs, they can’t help it, so that’s how Overdog came into being, and there were also ducks named Comma, Colon, Semicolon, and Exclamation, and their babies were going to be named Parenthesis, Dash and Hyphen but then I realized that would mean I'd need to have the cabin next to a lake, and ever since I watched that one creepy horror movie I’m terrified of lakes at night because I really don’t think we should mess with any bodies of water and—” you managed to stop yourself and cleared your throat. “Just…feel free to stop me when I do this.”

“I like it when you do it,” Logan stated without taking his eyes off the road, as if he was talking about the weather and your heart started pacing in your chest while you gawked at him.

“…People usually hate it.”

“People are idiots.”

“Someone I used to know would cover my mouth whenever I rambled too much.”

“And you didn’t break their hand?” he asked and you scoffed a laugh, then shook your head.

“Nope,” you muttered. “That sounds like a good idea though.”

“It is,” he said, reaching out to grab the cigar resting by the gear stick, and opened his window a little.

“Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” you said. “You smoke cigars?”

“Mm hm,” he said, patting his jeans for a lighter, then looked around the car before his hazel eyes fell on you. “I think my lighter is in the jacket pocket, would you…?”

“Oh sure!” you said and felt around the leather jacket over your shoulders, then pulled out the lighter and flicked it, the warmth caressing your hand for a moment before you held it out for him. Logan stole a look at you, his gaze stopping on your face illuminated by the flame before he leaned in to hold the tip of the cigar to the flame.

You had no idea why, but it felt strangely intimate.

“Thanks,” he murmured and you offered him a hesitant smile, flicking the cap of the lighter back before carefully placing it beside the gear stick.

“Sure,” you said, trying to snap yourself out of it. “Um, I used to smoke cigarettes. Mostly to look cool.”

“Did it work?”

“Not really,” you admitted as he stole a look at the GPS, then back at the road. “Never a cigar though, do you mind if I try it?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

Corners of his mouth curled upwards. “Are you trying to look cool right now?”

“Hey, if you don’t think I’m cool after learning my future pets’ names, I don’t think a cigar is gonna help it.”

That coaxed a chuckle out of him and he held out his hand so that you could take the cigar from him. The moment your fingertips brushed against his skin, his hand twitched, a warmth spreading from your hand to your whole body. You swallowed thickly, your heartbeat getting faster and you brought the cigar to your lips with a trembling hand, then took a drag.

“Don’t inhale—” Logan started but you had already inhaled the smoke, a sharp pain stabbing you in the chest as soon as you did. Logan pulled over and through the coughs, you realized you were right in front of your apartment but you couldn’t even thank him as you pounded your chest with your fist, then took a deep breath and wiped at your eyes with one hand while handing him the cigar back with the other.

“Ugh, that’s terrible!” you whined. “You smoke that willingly?”

“You’re not supposed to inhale it.”

You made a face and wiped at your eyes again, sniffling.

“Not supposed to inhale it?” you repeated as you straightened your back to look at him better, your brows pulled together in almost a petulant manner. “What’s the point of it then?”

The calm smile that graced his lips was almost taunting and he reached out to wipe at the remnant of a tear under your eye with a knuckle, your breath catching in your throat.

“The taste, princess,” he said, his deep voice sending an excited shiver down your spine as he pulled his hand back. “The taste is the point.”

…Oh.

Oh you were so going to melt in front of him one of these days.

That wasn’t supposed to sound as suggestive as it did, you were sure of it but that did nothing to stop the fire spreading over your cheeks, making you shift a little in your spot before he nodded to the window.

“Is this your place?”

You had to force yourself to drag your eyes away from him and looked outside even if you knew where you were, then nodded fervently.

“Yeah!” you said. “Yeah that’s—that’s me.”

A silence fell upon the car and you cleared your throat, trying to snap out of the daze you were in.

“Thank you,” you said after a beat. “For…for all of this, really.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said and you looked outside again, now realizing the rain had stopped so you grabbed your phone off the dashboard, unbuckled your seatbelt and slipped the jacket off your shoulders, his unwavering gaze almost too hot on your skin.

“Good night Logan,” you said softly and opened your door to step out of the car, then made your way to the building. You climbed up the stairs, a giggle you couldn’t stop escaping from your lips as you unlocked your door, then stepped into your apartment and closed the door behind you before leaning back against it.

“Alright…” you breathed out, your heart beating in your ears. “Yeah, okay. I definitely have a crush.”

[4] - Ray of Light

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #deadpool #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool 3 #wolverine #wolverine x reader #logan wolverine #logan x reader #logan howlett x you #wolverine x you #james howlett #fluff #logan howlett imagine #logan x you #james logan howlett

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l1tw1ck · 21 days ago

Text

Thunder

Bottom!FTM Cloud Strife x Top!Male Reader

⛈️ Word Count: 1,799 ⛈️

While out on a mission, you and Cloud get caught in a sudden thunderstorm, forcing you to find shelter for the night until it stops. But after a couple days, there aren't any signs of it letting up

AFAB Language Used | I had writer's block and got bored so i decided to finally continue playing final fantasy. I stopped like 30 minutes in to write this fic at 12AM. i put down the game (temporarily! i love it) after the section 8 stuff so i'm sorry for any inaccuracies, just needed to take advantage of this burst of motivation

CW: Rape/Non-Con, Somnophilia, Power Imbalance, Frottage, Teasing, Creampie

You peek outside the window, or what was left of it, of the broken down building you're in then turn to Cloud. “Looks like we’ll have to stay the night.” Lightning strikes to reinforce your words. “Think you can handle it, pretty boy?”

“Stop treating me like a rookie.” Cloud sighs. “And stop calling me pretty boy.”

“It's hard when you look like an adorable little kitten.” You smile.

He rolls his eyes and looks around for burnable items.

“It's like watching a lion cub hunt and gather.”

“I can't wait for this night to be over.” He groans. “How about you do something useful, captain?”

“Like what, kitty?”

Cloud grips the damp piece of wood in his hand in annoyance. “Like maybe finding things to keep the water out of here.” He tosses the wood aside.

“Sure.” You stretch.

The two of you worked together to make the old building livable for the night and went to sleep thinking it’d be over by morning.

Cloud wakes up to the loud sound of thunder and sighs. He sees you leaning against the wall. “It's still raining.”

“It sure is.” You chuckle. “We might be here for a while, kitty. Unless you want to run out and somehow dodge all that lightning?”

The two of you are way too far from the base to even consider doing that. The job pays well but not enough for Cloud to not be annoyed with this sudden detour. “I better get a bonus for this.”

“Of course. You could get paid even more if you did me a little favor.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“About 60,000 gil plus your bonus pay.”

“What is it?” He asks, attentive.

You smirk. “Since we're gonna be stuck here for who knows how long, I think it’d be nice to do something as a…pastime of sorts.”

“Stop beating around the bush.”

You motion for him to come over. He rolls his eyes and gets up. “I know you're talented in so many ways,” You grab his wrist and pull him close to you. “And I wanna see if you're talented in this way too.”

He pushes you and steps back, his cheeks red. “Don't even think about it.”

“It was worth a shot.” You laugh.

He shakes his head and decides to explore the building more, far from you.

The sun set and the sky continued to pour. Then days passed. You rationed food and managed to find other edible things to keep yourselves alive but the situation isn't all that great for you. You're still functioning, but just by a small margin.

The two of you were able to collect rainwater to drink and help yourselves clean up. Cloud insisted on doing it upstairs so you wouldn't watch him. You promised you wouldn't but you were lying.

As time went on, it was getting harder and harder to keep it in your pants. Your mental state started to get a little wonky thanks to your body not getting all the nutrients it needs. You couldn't stop thinking about how much you wanted him, especially since it was better than thinking about food. It got to a point where you couldn't even fall asleep.

You look at Cloud’s sleeping face, studying the slight movements in his facial muscles as he dreams. The soft glow of your lamp allows you to properly see him despite the darkness. His chest slowly rises and falls. You know if you made an attempt, he’d wake up, any good soldier would. But it's getting hard to control yourself. Being in such close proximity with him is driving you mad. You hesitantly, and very softly, touch his shoulder. He doesn't react. You poke his cheek. Nothing. You pause.

You trace your finger down his chest and to his pants. You carefully unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants. He doesn't seem to notice you pulling them down. You take in a small breath. You're so nervous it feels like there's a hole in your chest. You remove his boxers at an agonizingly slow pace. You gulp as you start to see his pussy. Light blond tufts of hair beautifully surround his soft, pudgy cunt and his t-dick. You look at him. He's sleeping peacefully. He must be more tired than usual tonight.

You gently pull his underwear down his ankles and place it on the end of the blanket he’s laying on. You carefully spread his legs and slot yourself in between them. As you begin to free your aching hard dick, you start to feel a little bad. You tell yourself to give him a huge bonus after this. You gently rub your cock along his pussy, knowing you can definitely get off just by doing this. You don't want it to hurt, at least not too much, so you decide not to penetrate him since your luck would probably run out if you tried to prep him properly.

You bite down on your lip. The view is making you feel dizzy. Your ears drown out the sounds of the thunder storm and focus entirely on Cloud. On his soft, gentle breaths and the squelching sound of his wet pussy, aroused by your cock pressing itself against it. Your heart starts to pound louder, ruining your focus on Cloud.

You let out a breathy gasp as you begin to feel your climax approaching. Your eyes flicker over to his face, watching to make sure he's still asleep. You don't know how you’ve gotten this far but you're no longer so sure that you’ll be able to stop here. Your movements stutter as your cum splatters on his body.

“Cloud..” You whisper. His lack of reaction emboldens you to keep going. You move back and slide your middle finger inside his cunt. Squelch. It sucks it in with ease, and same with your ring finger. You slowly open him up while using your free hand to jerk yourself off. He twitches. You pause and look at him before continuing.

You eventually decide to stop and finally get to the good part. You gently lift Cloud’s legs and position the tip of your cock in front of his entrance. You take your time easing into him while constantly checking if he's awake.

Once you're finally fully inside, you take a couple minutes to take everything in. You're in serious disbelief but way too horny to be concerned about it. You know that, at this point, if he wakes up, you’ll be able to overpower him.

You slowly thrust into him, happily indulging in the wonders of Cloud Strife’s pussy. You gently caress his t-dick, smiling when you start to hear him whimper. “You feel so good, Cloud– ‘s like you were made for me, to tempt me..” You murmur, gradually picking up the pace. “I didn't think it’d be so easy…”

“Maybe you're not even asleep. No properly trained soldier would sleep through something like this…I wonder if you're enjoying this. Getting off on me assaulting you in your sleep like a slut.” You notice his cheeks starting to turn red. A chill runs down your spine as you start to get a feeling your assumption is correct. “You like this, Cloud? Letting yourself get taken advantage of? Does it feel good getting treated like a cocksleeve?”

He whimpers, his cunt squeezing you.

“I know you're awake. Answer me.”

His eyes flutter open, his face flushed and deliciously seductive. “It– it feels good-!” He moans.

“Good boy.” You grin. You never would've thought Cloud would be into something like this. You roughly pound into him. He cries out in pleasure, feeling his orgasm approaching. “‘M gonna come inside and you're gonna take it like the good kitty you are.”

“Ye- yes–!” He shuts his eyes, squirting on your dick. His mouth hangs open as the aftershocks hit him. He smiles dreamily as he feels your cum flow inside of him.

You stop and catch your breath. “Did you reject me hoping this would happen?”

Cloud nods softly. “I didn't think it would…but I wanted it to.”

…..........

He pushes you and steps back. “Don't even think about it.”

“It was worth a shot.”

He shakes his head and decides to explore the building more, far from you.

Cloud climbed the semi-intact stairs and explored the second floor of the building. There wasn't anything noteworthy inside but it did give him much needed privacy. No room to lay down but he didn't need to anyway.

He walked behind a wall to hide himself in case you decided to follow him, and unbuckled his pants. He stuck his hand down them and gently caressed his t-dick. He always knew you were attracted to him, it wasn't like you were hiding it, and he pretended that he hated it. He loves your pet names and the lustful way you look at his body. Part of him hoped that one day, you’d just force yourself on him and claim him like a prize. He didn't think it'd ever happen but he never got tired of fantasizing about it. He hoped he'd have some sort of opportunity for you to finally make your move.

He'd imagine you cornering him in the locker room showers and covering his mouth to make sure no one finds out.

Cloud sneakily rubs his sensitive nipples against the cold wall tiles as you enter him. “Shh, this is what you get for being such a tease.” You spank him, your cock forcefully entering his pussy. Cloud shivers at the sounds of your heavy breathing. He can tell how aroused you are and how much you love his body. He rolls his eyes back as you stretch him wide open, his own heavy breaths making him feel lightheaded.

Or he’d imagine you giving him an ultimatum and forcing him to submit to you in exchange for keeping his job.

Cloud fakes a look of disgust as he stares at your rock hard cock. He looks up at you then back at your length, hesitating before enveloping it in his mouth. “There you go, Cloud, finally doing what I hired you for.” You praise him. He shudders at the thought, his pussy throbbing with need. “This is what you should be doing, not out on the battlefield but here, pleasing me.”

He looks up at you, trying to look angry. You smirk and push his head down, forcing him to shift his focus back.

His latest fantasy was about being trapped together. He hoped that something would happen to keep the two of you together for a long time. And he’d tease you even more to frustrate you. Then you’d finally do it.

He didn't think that exact scenario would actually play out.

#wicks🕯works #top male reader #male reader #ftm character #dom male reader #cloud strife x reader #cloud strife x male reader #cloud strife smut #bottom cloud strife #final fantasy x reader #tw noncon #tw somnophilia #bottom male character

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nemisuki · 1 month ago

Text

A Special Day

Dating AU | You never felt the need to celebrate this 'special' day every year. But time it's different, the first year with your explosive boyfriend. And seems like he thinks differently.

᧔o᧓ || Katsuki Bakugo x f!reader, no manga spoilers, no nsfw, pure fluff, no angst, aged up, oneshot, bkg is a softie, gift giving, 1.3k word count

"So do you have any plans tomorrow?"

The sound of his voice breaks the silence between you two. The only other noise being the scribbles of her pencil and flipping of paper.

Her eyes don't break away from the math problem in her notebook, the source of her misery for the past 10 minutes.

In response to his question, the girl exhales a short hum while erasing her failed attempt of multiplication, "Not really."

A small pout begins to form on her face as she concentrates on the equation.

What sane person puts letters in math?

Listening to her reply, his eyebrows furrow with slight confusion, his hand pausing from completing the assignment in front of him.

He takes this opportunity to pause his studies, leaning back in his chair to stretch his limbs.

A small sigh exiting his mouth as he stands up to lift his arms over his head to give relief to his aching muscles.

"It's your birthday, don't ya want a party or go out to eat?"

At his movement, she takes a peek in his direction.

Her gaze roaming his backside - noticing the outline of his back muscles from that tank top he's wearing.

The combination of his shirt and the grey sweatpants loosely hanging on his waist was deadly.

It's even worse that he is completely unaware of the effect it has on her.

Seeing him take a break gave her an excuse to do the same.

She props herself off his bed with her elbows, now sitting up on the edge of his mattress with a small yawn, "Not really. I don't usually celebrate it."

"Like at all?" he turns back to look at her, noting the aloof expression on her face.

"I mean maybe when I was younger but not anymore.”

He examines her body language intensely, only to find no signs of discomfort.

So she really doesn’t want to celebrate huh.

I mean he understands, he wasn’t one to care about his own birthday either.

He steps closer to plop down beside her, looking at the alarm clock on his bedside table, “we should call it a night.”

“Yeah I should head back to my dorm now” she smiles, looking at how the moonlight accentuates his features, only enhancing the vision beside her.

“Just sleep over” he mumbles, already moving to lay down on his bed. Making room for her as he scoots towards the wall.

“And your roommate?”

“Shitty hair said he’s crashing at Raccoon eyes dorm. So turn off the lamp and come over here yeah?”

She couldn’t help but to laugh at his blunt demands, reaching over to shut off the lamp then resting beside him in an instant.

There's no way she'll let an opportunity like this go to waste.

With that, the blonde drapes the blanket over the two, looking almost offended that she didn't wrap her hands around him like she always does.

He isn't one for physical touch but he's gotten used to hers.

She seems to feel his stare and immediately scoots closer to curl up beside him, leaning her face into his chest.

Thankfully dismissing all his dramatic thoughts in an instant.

He wraps his arms around her torso to hold her close, "Real tired. Gonna sleep now, night."

"Mhm good night 'suki. I love you" she whispers back, closing her eyes to relish in his warmth.

A feeling she loves all too well.

"....love you too" he replies after a few seconds. Before his eyes fall close, allowing himself to drown in the feeling of her presence.

Already knowing what he must do tomorrow.

✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ ⎯⎯ ✦

Her eyes squint in response to the distant sound of raining pattering outside the window.

The once dark room is now filled with morning light peeking through cracks in the curtain.

A groan escaping her as she rubs her eyes awake, attempting to fight the invisible force that's trying to pull her back to eternal sleep.

Though under the covers, she shivers at the chilly room she's woken up too. Expecting to be tangled under the covers with her favorite blonde, yet is only faced with an imposter - a pillow taking his place.

It takes her a few minutes of mindlessly staring at the ceiling for her to sit up, but only due to the sound of the door slowly creaking open.

His figure comes into view as he closes the door behind him, placing a mysterious bag on his desk as he takes off his coat and tucks his umbrella away, "You just woke up?"

"Yeah just now. Where'd you go?" she tilts her head, ruling out the option that he had class since he doesn't have his bag.

She stands up and begins approaching him but he holds his hand up, making her pause in her tracks.

"Close your eyes for a minute" he mumbles quietly, all of a sudden avoiding her questioning gaze.

Despite her confusion, she doesn't ask to investigate further as her eyes flutter shut.

"Don't peek or I'll kill ya."

An amused smile appears on her face at his snarky comment, "I won't but if you don't hurry up I might fall back asleep."

The sound of rustling was heard in the room, as well as a small clicking sound shortly after.

"Can I look now?"

"No."

"What about now?"

"I told you already, not yet!"

Laughter escapes her as she impatiently waits, fidgeting her fingers as she hears him step closer.

"...Alright you can open them now."

She hums and her eyes slowly open, slightly squinting to adjust to the light of the room once again.

Once done, she looks ahead of her and is met with an overwhelming sight. Complete shock taking over her face.

Bakugo is standing there, holding up a small birthday cake with lit candles on top.

Her heart thumps louder in her chest, so much so that it almost drowns out the noise of rain happening outside the room.

And she wonders if he can hear it too.

"I uh... know what you said yesterday but it just-" he holds the cake closer to her face, "didn't feel right to me."

Her gaze roams across the cake, pretty cursive letters in frosting spelling out 'Happy Birthday Y/N' on the surface. Along with her favorite pieces of fruit scattered around the edges.

"You didn't have to" she mumbles, a thankful smile taking over her face the more she stares at the cake.

"Well I wanted to. Now blow out the candles, nerd."

Holding back a laugh, she takes a moment to look at him, "Not gonna sing for me?"

"Hah! In your dreams maybe. Hurry up would ya? My arms getting tired here" he rolls his eyes at her teasing, the tip of his ears turning a soft pink from embarrassment.

She holds back a wide smile and blows out the candles before he grows more shy.

"What flavor is it?"

"You're favorite one, obviously" he huffs, stepping away to set the cake down on his desk.

As her gaze lingered on him, a sudden feeling took over her whole body.

She notices the small puddle forming under his wet shoes, a mini bouquet of her favorite flowers resting in a vase he must've bought earlier and a gift bag carefully placed on the sidelines.

Katsuki Bakugo hates the rain. Avoids it at all costs.

Yet he willingly went out in this downpour to buy her these things.

Ah....

"Oi do you want a one slice or-"

His words falter when her hands suddenly wrap around his waist from behind. Her face resting against his back, not wanting him to see as silent tears trickle down her cheeks.

"Thank you Katsuki."

He stays silent, feeling the back of his shirt grow damp from her quiet cries.

A sigh exits his mouth as he prys her hands away, spinning around to hold her close to his chest. Rubbing her back in gentle circles and whispering rare words of reassurance.

"Yeah yeah let it all out. I got ya" he mumbles, knowing exactly how to calm her down.

She just needs him there to hold her as he always does.

And he'll stick around - for her.

"Happy Birthday Y/N."

✦ ⎯⎯⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨ masterlist || taglist || intro || socials ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⎯⎯ ✦

A/N ||| hey hey everyone! It's actually my birthday today so I quickly wrote this up hehe. Sorry if it's a bit choppy, this was rushed. Anywaysss I finally made a taglist - so if you want to get tagged in my bakugo fics then click on this link!

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roosterforme · 5 months ago

Text

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 22 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: It's terrifying to realize you don't know if Bradley is safe. As the lonely days stretch on and on, you try to savor the notes from him. Once the final two envelopes have been opened, you know you need the real thing.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, adult language, romantic as hell Bradley, 18+

Length: 2600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Other than your car, everything you owned was inside Bradley's house. Over the last few weeks, Natasha helped you load up his Bronco and make a few trips down, but she looked at you like you were crazy when you told her you were going to leave most things packed up for now.

"Why?" she asked, leaning on a stack of boxes in the living room. "Even if he gets stationed in Norfolk, you'll finish out your school year here before he sells the house."

But you didn't want him to sell his house. You loved it here. Being in his living space was the closest thing to being with him when he was deployed, and you didn't think it was fair that he might have to give this up. What would Edith do without Bradley to help her? What would Bradley do in a different state without his best friend? No, you simply couldn't unpack, just in case, but you also couldn't accept Virginia with any finality until you were explicitly told it was happening.

"I just wish I could talk to him," you whispered.

"Soon," Nat replied, and you jumped, surprised to find you weren't alone in your thoughts. "I just moved a million boxes. I deserve a trip to the wine bar, and so do you. Bradley will be back soon enough."

"Nine days. Not soon enough."

It was nine days until he was supposed to get back to Norfolk. On Valentine's Day. Then right after that, it was Career Day at your school. You had been holding onto a few of the envelopes and gift cards from him, trying to make them last, but you were almost out. You needed the real thing again.

Natasha groaned. "You are so in love with him, it's kind of gross. Let's go drink wine, and I'll tell you more tales from before the mustache."

You took one more look at the few unopened letters lined up on the coffee table before grabbing the gift card for the wine bar. But even southern California looked gloomy on the drive up. The wine was good, but you were just tired. Natasha told you all about how she tried to give Bradley the call sign Chicken Man, and you laughed at the idea of that emblazoned along the side of his jet. She also seemed to be able to tell just how melancholy you were.

"You're doing great," she told you, setting down her wine glass. "You're counting down the hours until you can talk to Bradley again. Vanessa would have probably been too busy with her water bottles to remember to pick him up from the airport. There's a reason why it's hard, and it's because he loves you as much as you love him."

You did your best to keep it together after that, but there was a lump in your throat, holding back your emotions, and when you got back home, you started crying on the couch. Big, fat tears rolled down your cheeks, blurring your vision, but you knew which envelope you were reaching for.

Open me when you've had a bad day

As you tore into the envelope, you realized there was another envelope inside it. The second envelope said Take me to The Bayside Florist and give me to someone who works there.

"What is this, Bradley?" you whispered out loud, reaching for your phone to see if the shop was still open this late on a Saturday. Your heart skipped a beat when you realized they closed in an hour, and you grabbed the envelope along with your phone and keys and ran out to your car.

In a matter of minutes, you parked in front of an adorable flower shop with The Bayside Florist in pink lettering on the awning. You felt a little silly taking the envelope inside, but when you were greeted by an older woman with a warm smile, you started to hand it to her.

"This might sound odd, but my boyfriend is deployed, and he left me this envelope," you said with a laugh. "Apparently I was supposed to bring it here?"

The woman adjusted her glasses as a smile found her lips. "Oh, yes. I remember him. Tall? With a mustache? Handsome?"

You bit your lip to keep from making an embarrassing noise. "Yeah, that sounds just like him."

She nodded and opened the envelope, humming in agreement with whatever she read inside. "I have something for you. Wait right here."

Then she disappeared through a doorway, and you walked around the inside of the shop, examining the arrangements and enjoying the scent of so many types of flowers mingling together. You weren't quite sure what Bradley had up his sleeve from thousands of miles away, but you were almost positive it was about to make your day so much better.

"Special delivery from your boyfriend."

Startled, you spun around to see a stunning bouquet of flowers in every color on the counter, complete with an envelope tucked in amidst the blooms. "That's for me?" you whispered.

"From your boyfriend," she confirmed.

You stifled a whimper as you reached for the flowers. "Am I supposed to pay for this?"

"He already did."

Tears stung your eyes as you pulled the envelope that said Gorgeous from between two roses. It was written in his handwriting. You thought you should read it in the privacy of your own car, so you thanked the woman and then headed back outside. Once you were sitting behind the steering wheel, you set the flowers aside in favor of the note.

Gorgeous,

I never want you to have a bad day, but I really hate that you're having one when I'm not with you. If I could be anywhere in the world right now, I'd choose to be next to you. Will you write about your day in your journal so we can talk about it later? I can't wait to talk about everything with you. I love you.

Bradley

Now that the tears started, you just let yourself cry.

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

Constantly wondering if your boyfriend was even okay was taking a toll on you. Your classroom was supposed to be your safe haven right now. Your place of comfort. Your refuge. But a few days before Bradley was supposed to get back into Norfolk, you were short and snippy with your class. You didn't mean to be, but it was happening anyway.

"Just sit down," you told Oliver, voice taking on a sharp, scolding edge that was usually never there. All eighteen of your kids sat with their backs straight in their seats and their hands folded on their desks like they were worried you were going to start yelling. This was never how you wanted to conduct your class. These kids were really well behaved for the most part, and you wanted them to have a lot of fun mixed in with their school lessons.

You turned away from them to try to catch your breath. The past few nights had been filled with restless sleep and a pain in your heart that wouldn't go away until you knew Bradley was safe. You cleared your throat, trying so hard to figure out what you wanted to say for your social studies lesson, but you couldn't shake your mind free from the anxiety you were feeling.

Picturing the flowers that you put in a Miller High Life pitcher you found in the kitchen after Bradley didn't appear to own a vase made you smile enough that you were able to turn around again.

"I need everyone to open their textbook to page eighty-seven." The only sound was pages rustling as you added, "And I promise I'll make this a fun unit for us."

When you finally left work that afternoon, you decided to let yourself open the last envelope from Bradley. It had been in your tote bag for a few days, just waiting for the right moment. Open me when you really want some coffee. You could clearly use the extra caffeine today, so you tore into the envelope as you walked across the parking lot. Just like before, there was an envelope inside the first envelope.

Take me to Starbucks and give me to someone who works there.

Now you were smiling. You got to go to another place of business with an envelope like an absolute lunatic, and you were really looking forward to it. You stopped at the Starbucks closest to your school, and when you handed the envelope to the girl who tried to take your order, she raised one eyebrow.

"Your guess is as good as mine. I think it's kind of a treasure hunt of sorts from my boyfriend who is deployed," you told her with a shrug.

Then you watched her open the envelope and remove a note along with a gift card. Her eyes skimmed the text, and her face transformed into the sappiest smile. "Oh my god," she said, looking back up at you. "I wish someone loved me this much," she muttered and then turned away from you, reaching for the biggest cup and a Sharpie.

You waited awkwardly for a few minutes while she made your drink. You could tell it was your favorite drink. Bradley somehow ordered your favorite drink for you to enjoy. Warmth filled your body, and you accepted the cup from her. "Thanks," you murmured as she paid using the gift card, and that's when you realized she had written something on the cup.

Gorgeous, I love you. I can't wait to come home. Bradley

"Does he have a brother?"

You looked up at the girl who made your coffee. "What?" you asked, taking the note and the gift card from her.

"Does your boyfriend have a brother? Because that note is the sweetest thing I've ever seen."

You shook your head, but you were smiling. "No. No brother. Sorry. Thanks for making my coffee."

As you walked outside you read the note, already feeling calmer at the sight of his hand writing.

Dear Starbucks Employee,

The beautiful woman who handed you this envelope is my girlfriend. I am desperately in love with her, and I would be there with her if I could, but I'm fucking deployed, if you can believe it. Please make her favorite drink for her, and if you wouldn't mind, please write 'Gorgeous, I love you. I can't wait to come home. Bradley' on the cup? Thank you so much.

He had scrawled your favorite drink to your exact specifications below that, and it even tasted perfect. You spent the ride back to Coronado planning out your upcoming Monday. If Bradley arrived back to Virginia on time, you'd be hearing from him by then. Every fiber of your being was hoping he'd call and tell you to pick him up in San Diego, but if he had to stay in Norfolk, you'd take a day off from work to fly out and see him. You had to. You wouldn't be able to go an extra minute without him now. You wanted to hug him and kiss him and give him a blowjob. You needed to feel his hands on your body and listen to his voice while you ran your fingers along his scars.

Monday couldn't get here fast enough.

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

The only thing Bradley wanted to do right now was get his phone in his fucking hands, but he thought that if he brought it up again, someone would tell him the thing had been mysteriously misplaced. He already asked for it three times. He'd been dropped back in Norfolk by air transport, and after a short debrief with a national security team, he would hopefully be allowed to be on his way.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw. This way."

He was led into a medical facility first where his bruises and strained neck were examined and the findings were documented. When he realized he got caught up in a dog fighting scenario with the other aviators, he had been more angry than anything else. Didn't these people know he had a perfect girlfriend to get back home to? Did they even care? He made it out mostly unscathed and back to the carrier deck safely, if not a little sore. The one thing that made him almost laugh was the fact that Cyclone would undoubtedly see his medical report, and there was a good chance Admiral Walker would hear from him again.

After the medical consultation, he was led into a debriefing room where he really didn't have much to say about the mission. It had been successful, sure, but he wasn't going to be allowed to discuss it with anyone after this, so he just stuck to answering the questions he was asked.

Then finally, he was given his phone and left on his own. Of course it was nearly dead when he turned it on, but it should be good enough to reach you. Talking to you would come as his top priority before figuring out how he was getting home, but that was a close second. His heart pounded in anticipation of hearing your voice after so many weeks.

It was barely six in the morning in San Diego. Maybe you were up and getting ready for work, but maybe you were still sleeping. It didn't matter. He needed you to know he was coming home. He tapped on your photo, pulling up your contact information as the warm sun and cold Virginia air hit his skin at the same time, and he shivered as soon as the phone stopped ringing. Your voice in his ear was his reward.

"Bradley!"

"Gorgeous," he sighed, suddenly so exhausted, he could barely stand. One word from you, and all he wanted to do was curl up on his couch with his head on your lap and let you take care of everything.

"Bradley!" You shrieked this time, and he smiled.

"Baby, I'm coming home."

"For good?" you asked, voice soft with an edge of concern that he wanted nothing more than to ease away. "Or just long enough to pack some things and head back to Norfolk?"

He hoisted his duffle onto his shoulder and started walking. "I'm coming home for good. Coming home to you."

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

He's safe and he's coming home! I'm working on mapping out the remaining chapters of this story, so if there's something you want to read about, hit me up. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 23

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