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sinfulspencer · 13 days ago

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Twisted fantasy

Prompt: Reader asked her boyfriend Spencer to dress up as Ghostface and he obliged.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Rating: mature (18+, minors DNI)

Warnings: light dom/sub dynamic, dom!Spencer, sub!Reader, dirty talking, praise kink, degradation kink, spanking, hair pulling, breath play, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie

Words: 4.1k

A.N.: Thank you to @vampireids for beta-reading this!

“I can’t believe I agreed to do this.”

I could hear the faint sound of Spencer pacing around the room on the other side of the door, along with grunts as he tried to put on the tightest pair of black trousers I had managed to find.

When October started, I knew it was time for me to make my demand. Even though I had no reason to complain about the many different ways Spencer and I celebrated Halloween, I had one more fantasy to fulfil. Just a little idea that had been stuffed inside my brain for too many years.

I knew Spencer wouldn’t have denied me anything, so I wasn’t surprised to find a Ghostface mask in my Amazon cart a few days after our conversation.

“You did it because you love me!”

Spencer huffed and I saw the lights flickering inside his bedroom. “I don’t have to prove my love to you by wearing a Ghostface mask.”

“No, but it would certainly be a nice thing to do!”

The door opened with such force it smacked against the cold wall. I took a step back and I almost collapsed to my knees when Spencer walked out.

I couldn’t even see his eyes, but I knew he was hiding that damned cocky smirk he had on his face every fucking time he understood what was going on in my brain. It wasn’t difficult to imagine, because I knew exactly how my face looked at that moment.

Spencer looked absolutely stunning in total black.

The shirt was tight on his chest and his sleeves were rolled up at his elbow, making him appear even more delicious to my eyes. His waist was perfectly hugged by those tight black trousers he didn’t want to wear, but did it for me, and his thighs made me want to drop down on the floor and nibble all over him.

And then, of course, the Ghostface mask.

Sure, it wasn’t the real Ghostface with the black cape and whatever, but it didn’t matter.

“So, do you have a boyfriend?” Spencer asked.

His eyes were covered, I could barely see the outline underneath the mask, and that turned me on more than I could describe. I could barely think straight. And his voice… shivers ran down my spine.

“Damn,” was all I could say.

Spencer chuckled in amusement, but the sound of his laugh was toned down by the mask covering his mouth. I had no idea why the outfit turned me on more than I could explain to myself, but it did - and I was glad we had no parties to attend that night, because I wouldn’t have let him leave his house.

There was something inexplicably exciting in not seeing his face, but allowing him to touch me as he pleased.

I had every right to drag him back into his bedroom and use him for my own pleasure, finally making my fantasy come true - and also put an end to my miserable desire for my boyfriend.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Spencer asked again.

I whined, staring at him. “Why, do you want to ask me out on a date?”

Though I could not see Spencer’s face, I knew that he was smirking. He was enjoying this probably as much as I was, which made me happy.

“Maybe. Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No.”

I took another step back to admire every inch of my boyfriend and sighed. I covered my mouth with a hand when Spencer leaned on the doorstep of our bathroom.

“You never told me your name.”

He didn’t move from where he was standing, but I was squirming either way. Spencer hadn’t laid a finger on me yet, but I was ready to jump on him at any minute.

“Why do you wanna know my name?”

“I wanna know who I’m looking at.”

Spencer opened his arms so that I could look at every detail, but before I could say anything to him he grabbed me by the waist. He pulled me closer to his body and I gasped, pressing both my hands on his chest.

I was sure that my eyes were in the shape of hearts. I had never felt this turned on before in my life, not even during our first time together and the first time we slept in the same bed - which led us to fuck on basically every surface of his bedroom.

“You look like you’ve seen a Ghost.”

I brought both my hands on his chest, grasping his shirt. I was positive my eyes were shining, staring at my boyfriend like a starved woman in front of a delicious buffet. After all, Spencer looked like a snack and I was craving something sweet.

“You’re so fucking hot.”

Spencer leaned closer to me and I struggled to look at him, or at the mask. His hands moved from my waist up to my neck, forcing me to keep my eyes on him the whole time. I hated that I couldn’t really see him, but that turned me on either way.

“I don’t think I’ll ever understand your obsession with this mask but if it turns you on this much” Spencer dug his fingers into my waist, “I will wear it every night.”

I slid my hands up his chest, tugging on the black tight shirt. “I could eat you.”

“That’s my job, darling. Let me eat you.”

And who was I to deny such a thing?

Spencer helped me to lay down on the bed with my hips on the edge of it, trembling with anticipation. It didn’t take long for him to spread my legs with his large hands, admiring the already wet spot on my panties.

“Already wet?”

Despite his face being hidden by the mask, I could feel the smug grin just forming on those damned plump lips.

“Shut up.”

Spencer ran his hands all over my thighs, dragging my panties down my legs. He threw them somewhere and quickly brought his thumb over my clit, massaging it so slowly that it almost made me cry. Spencer knew how much I hated teasing, but he loved it so much - probably more than sex itself.

“My sweet girl. Shouldn’t you be scared of me?”

A part of me wished I could be able to see his face, but the irrational part of me thought the mask was incredibly hot. I didn’t know what part of my brain was attracted to it, especially if it was worn by my FBI boyfriend, but still - I was thankful that Spencer brought my fantasy to life.

“Fuck, just finger me. Please?”

Spencer hummed, teasing my entrance with his finger. “Should I?”

“I’ll be good for you. Please?”

I whined under his ministrations, following the rhythm of his hand as soon as his index finger slipped deep inside of me. I knew Spencer could never deny me anything and him wearing that fucking mask was the proof of it.

The squelching sound of my wetness against Spencer’s palm made me shiver as I gripped the bedsheets underneath me. His finger brushed against my sweet point and I found myself gasping for hair when Spencer’s other hand pressed down on my throat.

I was caged between his slim body and the soft mattress underneath me, spiralling in warm pleasure that washed over me. My toes curled and I felt myself drifting off to that state that I craved each time I was underneath my boyfriend’s body.

Spencer was staring down at me, I could feel it even though I couldn’t see it. He squeezed my throat again with his fingers, digging them into my skin - I was going to have bruises the next morning, but did I truly care?

“Always such a good girl for me. Look at you.”

Spencer’s condescending tone made me clench around his finger and he quickly added another one, stretching me out gently as my wetness coated him. The more he squeezed my throat, the more I could feel my soul disappearing from my body and the pleasure taking control of every inch of me.

My knuckles were white and my whole body was tensing underneath Spencer’s, his fingers working in and out of me at a quick pace that rendered me breathless. His hand was still pressing down on my throat.

It was difficult to explain the state of peace I felt myself drifting off to, but I felt like I was floating above air. The white clouds caressing my skin ever so gently while my body was carried far away. The lack of oxygen made it easy for Spencer to gain control of me, my body and every sensation that he brought me with his fingers inside of me and his thumb on my clit.

“You wanna come for me, my special girl?”

His voice was loud and clear in my ears, but I could not find the strength or the will to answer him. I just stared at him with my eyes wide open, gripping his forearm to release some of the tension that I felt building within my body.

“The last time you were this turned on, was when you saw me shooting with my gun. Should I pull that out?”

My whole body was trembling as his fingers quickened their pace inside of me, making a mess all over the bedsheets - I could feel my own wetness and Spencer’s saliva dripped down between my thighs.

“Spencer, p-please.”

Spencer didn’t waste any time in cooing at me. I knew that if I ripped that mask away at that specific moment I would’ve found a sly smirk on his lips - and God, did that fucking turn me on.

“You can’t speak, my special girl? Too stupid to think right? To even speak right?”

When he pulled his fingers out of my wet cunt and removed his hand from my throat, I gasped for air and stared at the ceiling with a shocked look on my face. I was not expecting him to remove all the sources of pleasure at once, but somehow it turned me on even more.

I knew what was about to come.

Spencer’s leather belt came undone quickly as he adjusted the mask on his face.

“I need to be inside you. Now.”

Spencer didn’t need to announce what he was about to do to me because I knew it; I had a feeling that everything was turning him on too much, I could feel it in his hands and the way his grip was so firm on my thighs. It felt like Spencer was trying to anchor me to a moment, to a feeling, to the promise of giving me an amount of pleasure that would keep me satisfied the whole night.

“Please,” was all I could whisper.

Spencer grabbed my forearm, forcing me to sit up for a moment. My head was spinning so hard I barely registered my shirt being removed as Spencer left me completely naked in front of him. He was still all dressed up, despite his shirt being slightly crumpled.

I didn’t know why, but knowing that he was still dressed while I was naked made me even more desperate for the man in front of me. And Spencer knew it as he pushed me down on the bed again.

He grabbed my ankles and dragged me closer to the edge again, while he pushed his breeches down enough to free his waist.

“So desperate for me, aren’t you?”

I whined, not really in the mood for more teasing. “You have no idea.”

“I’ll take good care of you now, my special girl.”

I closed my eyes and reclined my head back, waiting for Spencer to just end my misery and give me exactly what I was aching for. My thighs were trembling, my lips were quivering and my heart was beating so hard against my ribcage - if we were silent, I would’ve heard it echo through the walls of our bedroom.

And then, a second later, I felt Spencer’s cock teasing my entrance. I gasped at the delicious feeling, immediately looking at my boyfriend - that fucking mask was preventing me from seeing his pretty face, but didn’t it look fucking perfect on him.

“Just fuck me, Spence. Please!”

I supposed Spencer didn’t like the tone I used as I spoke to him, because he leaned on top of me and grabbed a handful of my hair. He pulled on it so hard that it brought tears to my eyes, but I wouldn’t have changed it for anything in the world - it felt deliciously good.

Spencer must’ve noticed the tears.

“Oh, are you crying?” he asked, his voice dangerously sweet, “I’ll give you something to cry about.”

Spencer tightened his grip on my hair and tugged on it again, forcing me to get up from the bed. He was controlling me through the painful grip he had on my hair and I swore I had never felt his fingers keeping me close to him so harshly before. I didn’t know if the mask had switched something inside of him, but I did not complain once.

The fine line between pain and pleasure was subtle, and Spencer was allowing me to ride it.

Spencer used his free hand to bend me over the bed without laying on it, while the other was still tangled in my hair. I had no idea what Spencer had in mind, but I was ready to follow him through everything - hoping that he would just fuck me at someone point.

“You’re dripping. Are you enjoying what I’m doing to you, my special girl?”

His voice was so fucking hot.

I nodded my head, hissing when he pulled my hair again. “Yes. Always.”

Spencer moved his free hand down between my thighs, slowly bending over with his chest pressed to my back, and found my entrance again. He slowly sunk his ring and middle finger inside of me, not finding any resistance, and started fucking me again.

I wanted his cock inside of me, not his fingers, but I remained quiet.

Struggling to breathe and with my thighs trembling, I moaned his name and leaned my head on the soft pillow on top of the bed. His fingers disappeared inside of me as my wetness coated his palm, dripping onto the bed sheets.

“My special girl,” he pressed open-mouthed kisses all over my naked back, “Am I making you feel good? You like my fingers fucking your aching cunt?”

I saw stars when I heard him speak in such a dirty way and my body reacted as I clenched around his fingers. Spencer must’ve felt it because he chuckled, the sound of his amused laugh muffled by the mask - I was tempted to just take it off and throw it away.

“Please…”

My brain was dizzy, I could not form a coherent thought. All I could think about was just Spencer fucking me with his fingers, with his cock, his hands all over me, bruises and bites decorating my skin.

I was desperate.

Spencer couldn’t care any less, though. He enjoyed the loudness of my moans, the way my body trembled each time his fingers bottomed out, the squelching sound of his palm against my weeping cunt.

Spencer curled his fingers, pressing his digits on that spongy spot inside of me, and I found myself almost crying from the amount of pleasure my body was forced to experience. My legs were on the verge of giving out and my hands gripped the bed sheets so hard my knuckles became white.

Still fucking me with his fingers, Spencer took off the mask and threw it somewhere - I saw it flying on the ground and I almost laughed. Spencer bit the skin between my shoulder blades - one of my favourite places he’d bite. The sharp pain radiated through my body immediately and I whined his name, pushing my hips back to reach his.

“Spence… please.”

His cock pressed against my thigh, but his fingers were relentless. All I could think about was the stabbing pleasure that his cock would’ve brought to me - how wet I was for the man behind me, how desperate I was to feel his balls slap against my buttocks each time he thrusted into me. I was out of my fucking mind with neediness and Spencer was basking in it.

“Do you want my cock, my sweet girl?”

I nodded my head, my tongue felt heavy in my mouth. The pleasure was building slowly but steadily in the pits of my stomach, my trembling thighs an obvious sign of that.

“You can have it, then.”

Spencer removed his fingers all at once and I groaned, disappointed but not surprised. His cock rested heavy on my inner thigh before he dragged it through my wet folds, coating it. I knew that he was admiring the sight and how much I was squirming because of him - Spencer was a sucker for my devotion and my obsession for him.

“Give it to me. Please?” I begged

Spencer cooed, biting the back of my neck again. “Want it all inside of you? Want me to paint your walls with my cum?”

I nodded with my eyes closed, feeling tears of frustration pricking at each side. “Yes. Yes, yes.”

Spencer tapped the tip of his cock against my clit, then teased my entrance with it. He slipped in for a single second and I thought my whole world exploded. The pleasure flashed behind my eyes, but disappeared as soon as Spencer pulled away.

My hands were twisting the sheets. “Fuck!”

Behind me, Spencer laughed at my pathetic complaint. It wasn’t a fun laugh, it wasn’t a cute laugh. No, it was a cruel laugh that reverberated through every inch of my body and turned me on more than it should have. Spencer sounded exactly like Ghostface, if it even made sense.

“So desperate,” Spencer whispered in my ear, biting my earlobe, “Such a whore for my cock.”

I protested again with another whine and Spencer pushed his cock inside of me again, but removed it as soon as I wiggled against him. Each time I would move, he’d pull out - and that made my heart tremble in my chest. He was teasing me so cruelly, without a care - but I didn’t blame him.

Spencer put on a mask for me. I deserved to be tortured a little.

“Oh, stop crying,” Spencer grabbed my hair again, pulling it hard, “I fuck you every chance I get, you’re not going to die if I don’t fuck you now.”

Actually, he was wrong - I was a hundred percent positive that I was going to die if Spencer wasn’t going to fuck me rough, hard and fast in less than five minutes. I wanted to answer him, to beg him again but the tone he used did not admit any talk back.

I stayed quiet, simply wiggling my hips in order that he’d just give in to his own desire.

“Good, be quiet for me and I’ll give you my cock.”

Spencer used his free hand to caress my waist, dragging his fingers over the curves of my buttocks. His other hand was still gripping my hair, but slowly loosened his grip until he brought both hands on my hips.

And when he finally pushed his cock inside of me, meeting no resistance, he started to rock his hips at a painfully slow pace. I didn’t know if Spencer wanted me to die at that moment, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of having me cry because of him - despite the hot tears streaming down my face.

“That’s my sweet girl. Your cunt feels so fucking good.”

I clung to the bed sheets with both hands, trying to meet his hips but Spencer stopped me. He didn’t say anything; instead, he enjoyed the way my body sucked him in so fucking good that his soft whimpers echoed through the walls of our room. I knew that Spencer loved to watch how my body reacted to his touch, to his painfully slow thrusts and I let him - there was nothing better than knowing he was turned on because of my body.

“Please, please, please.”

No other word came out of my mouth.

Spencer started thrusting into me slightly faster, but not fast enough to make me come. It was a slow torture that I knew he was basking in - and what made it even more frustrating for me was the light slaps that he gave to my buttocks.

“Feels so good, sweet girl.”

Spencer muttered to me, caressing my buttocks before slapping both with his palms. Over and over, I could feel my skin become hotter and I wiggled away each time he struck me - it hurt, but I enjoyed it far more than I should have.

When I felt myself losing the train of thoughts running through my mind, Spencer reminded me that he could read me like a book and he picked up the pace of his thrusts. I barely had the time to fix the position I was in because Spencer started to pound into me harder and harder. His balls were slapping against my buttocks and his hands were digging into my skin, leaving bruises that I would admire for the next few days.

“Take me so fucking well. So proud of you, sweet girl.”

My knees were sore as they scraped against the bed sheets, but I wasn’t going to complain. I kept my mouth shut and leaned my forehead on the pillow, stretching my back with my arms gripping the headboard of our bed.

Spencer moaned at the sight and his thrusts became even harsher. I knew he was desperately close, I could feel it in the tension of his chest pressed to my back and the quick gasps that fell from his lips.

“Wanna cum?” he taunted me.

I nodded, my lips twitching into a smirk. “Yes, please. Make me come, please.”

Spencer seemed determined to make me cum first, his left hand still dinging into the soft skin of my waist. His right hand moved between my thighs and his thumb pressed over my clit, eliciting a long unexpected moan.

“Show me how good I’m making you feel, sweet girl,” Spencer whispered in my ear, his voice low, “Cum on my cock like the whore that I know you are.”

My toes were curling, the pleasure becoming intolerable. Every inch of my body trembled because of his ministrations; I was a puppet in his skilled fingers and Spencer knew it, as he finally pushed me off the edge of my desire.

With his left hand Spencer pushed my head into the mattress, cutting off the air supply as he buried his cock deep inside of me - I felt him breaching my cervix and it hurt, but Gods.

I did not want Spencer to stop.

I needed that pleasure to keep coming in waves through me as it exploded over and over again. I had no idea if I was breathing, I had no idea if I had died and went straight to Hell.

Spencer groaned in my ear, a sound that I wish I could’ve recorded, and I felt his warmth fill me up deeply. More tears fell from my eyes as I struggled to lift my head up, exhausted and trembling like a leaf in the middle of a storm. I did not expect to have an orgasm so earth-shattering. And I did not expect Spencer to take off the mask like that, with a disrupting anger that did not belong to him. It was endearing and incredibly hot.

I collapsed onto the bed with Spencer’s body on top of mine, his lips peppering my back with light kisses.

“Sorry about the mask.”

I hissed when he pulled out of me, the sudden loss stinging. “Fuck the mask.”

Spencer chuckled at my response. “But I thought you loved it.”

“Oh, I do,” I replied, rolling on my back, “But I love seeing your face way more.”

He got off the bed and went straight to the bathroom, bringing me a warm washcloth so that he could clean himself off me and then himself. I was too weak to move and my thighs were still trembling - I wouldn’t have been able to walk to the bathroom without waddling.

“Right, so I should keep the mask on in the beginning and then take it off.”

I nodded my head, sitting up on the bed. “That’s a good compromise. Next Halloween I’ll bring one of your fantasies to life. Deal?”

Spencer scratched his chin with his fingers, humming. “I’m not really sure if I want to fuck a character from a movie or a book, though.”

“Okay, then I’ll dress up like myself.”

He chuckled, laying back down beside me. “Oh, that I love.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid halloween fic #spencer reid smut fic #spencer reid smut imagine #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid nsft #spencer reid nsft fic

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wosoamazing · 7 months ago

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Abandoned?

Warnings: Injury, serious chest injury, ambulance, hospitals, parental abandonment, mentions of death. A/N: In this fic the most recent international break was friendlies… This was a request from someone on wattpad.

It was the 25th minute when Fox kicked a ball, unfortunately for you it came hurtling towards you and before you could move out of the way it crash into your chest, the sound of the ball connecting with your upper torso reverberated through the stadium as you collapsed to the ground from the force, you immediately grabbed your chest as you rolled around the pitch clearly in agony, medics from both teams were on the pitch before the game was paused, there was no time to waste.

Your chest felt tight, it felt like someone squeezed your heart every time it beat, you could almost feel bubbles ‘pop’ in your chest, and your chest heaved with every breath as you struggled to get air in, whilst also feeling incredible pain every time you sucked in the slightest bit of air.

The stadium was dead silent, it was like there wasn’t a single soul there. And when the ref finally blew the whistle after what felt like hours, the ambo cart immediately raced its way across the pitch to where you laid, surrounded by medics. Sheets were quickly brought onto the pitch and held up around you by various training staff of both teams to provide some protection against the various cameras that surrounded you, an announcement was made informing all media to seize action of cameras however that wouldn’t have stopped the public from trying to get photos.

Leah felt time slow down when you hit the pitch, she felt her body freeze, she was standing there staring at the spot you laid surrounding my medics, and paramedics, she didn’t know what to feel, it was almost like her body had forgotten to feel. All your fellow teammates stood there watching her, not knowing whether they should go over to her or not, however when they saw the sheets being brought out they knew it was bad, it basically never happened. Lucy started to make her way over to their Skipper, Kiera and Georgia followed behind her, knowing Leah needed support in this moment. They watched her fall to her knees as announcement was made, leaning forward, burying her face into the grass, her shoulders shook harshly as sobs wracked her body. A circle was formed around them by the USWNT as they tried to comfort Leah. Leah had absolutely broken down, she didn't know how to feel, she was just hoping, praying for dear life that they weren't resuscitating you behind those sheets. You lived with Leah, spending almost every second of every day with her, she didn't know what would happen, how she would cope if you left her.

Diagonally across the pitch from the circle, stood Lotte, who had her arms around Fox, the American cried into her shoulder, he body shook as her fellow arsenal teammates tried to comfort her, reassuring her that this wasn't her fault and that it would be okay.

A paramedic was running over to the crowd and waved a man down who was brought onto the pitch, he was one of the Trauma Doctors at St Mary’s and just happened to watching the game with his family on his day off, “Update us” he said as he made his way through the sheets with the paramedic, “pulse is thready, bpm of 163, clear respiratory distress, muffled chest sounds, GCS score unattainable,” “c-spine collar,” you were placed into a neck brace, “prep for an on field thoracostomy,” someone said, before your jersey was cut off and the cold air hit your skin as they disinfected the area, “this is going to hurt, stabilise her,” you felt a knife cut into you and you moaned out in pain, before something was stuck in your chest, and an oxygen mask was placed over your face, you felt a pair of hands leave your body, and heard the sound of heavy boots crunch in the wet cool grass, indicating someone was running somewhere.

—

“Ready for transfer,” there was a silence, “on my count, 1,2,3,” your body was held straight as you were tipped on your side, the movement causing you to feel slightly dizzy and you could almost hear bugs in your ears, something hard and cold was placed against your back “and 1,2,3,” you were tipped onto your back again, now lying on the backboard, as the foam blocks were placed next to your head and secured your world started to go a little hazy, as someone readjusted the tube that was stuck in your chest.

“Stay with us y/n,” you tried to open your eyes further but you couldn’t and suddenly everything went black.

________

“And the parents are on their way? Or so I’ve heard,” you faintly heard someone say as they stood outside your room. You had just woken up, and everything was still slightly hazy.

You quickly came to at those words, you eyes widened, and you felt your chest start to get tight again, your heart pounded, you were shaking, your breath was ragged, “I-I don’t want to see them,” you stammered out as you shook your head, and tears started to fall from your eyes, Leah didn’t know ones heart could break so many times in one day but here she was, feeling her heart break for at least the second time. She quickly got up so she could be closer to you, taking your hands in hers, “No baby,” she shook her head, face etched with pain, no matter how much you hated your parents, she knew this was going to hurt. “It’s not them anymore, they, they,” she let out a heavy sigh, “they gave you up, they signed away their rights. When they got the call, they said that it wasn’t their duty to make the decisions or to take care of you, they, they said they didn’t want to be associated with you, they came to the hospital, purely to sign the papers to give away their guardianship,” Leah watched as a range of emotions crossed your face, you couldn’t believe it, yes they had already kicked you out and you barely spoke. But this was different. This was something else. This was complete abandonment, they didn’t want anything to do with you anymore. “I’m sorry baby, I’m so so sorry, I-” Leah was cut off my the loud alarm sounding on the monitor, your panic had caused your heart rate to get to high and your oxygen levels too low, your chest heaved with every breath again, and you could feel it burn as oxygen entered your lungs, but that pain was nothing, nothing could ever compare to the feeling of being disowned legally by your parents. Knowing they travelled all the way to the hospital, just to sign a piece of paper to say they didn't love you anymore.

You had just finished facetiming Kyra, Steph and Caitlin, when you turned your head to face Leah, who was sitting in the chair near your bed, her face seemed serious as she read something on her phone.

“We aren’t playing Bristol City,” she suddenly announced “well obviously,” you rolled your eyes at her, “no like the club isn’t, they forfeited,” “oh,” you paused for a minute, “I want to see Emily,” you blurted out, the thought having been circling your mind for the last however long.

“I don’t think that is the best idea, B-” “But why? It’s not her fault, she did nothing wrong,” “That’s not the reason why bubs, Emily is struggling at the moment, she knows it wasn’t her fault, but she feels like it is, because she kicked the ball, she didn't mean to hit you, but she does feel guilty, she feels like she just shouldn’t have kicked the ball.” You nodded your head, and picked up your phone, scrolling through instagram, when you came across statements from both Arsenal and England.

An update from the England Lionesses: Y/N is in a stable condition, she is awake and talking. Her recovery will be in the hands of her club and we wish her all the best. We ask that out of respect for the players and those involved that no photos or videos taken during/after the incident are shared, these players are people too and deserve privacy. We are thankful for all our fans' support and apologise for the abandonment of the match, all tickets will be refunded.

Arsenal WFC have released a statement: After discussions with our players, staff, Bristol City and the FA we have come to the decision that we will be forfeiting our next fixture in the WSL against Bristol City, we understand what this decision means and how it affects our position in the table however we must keep our players wellbeing at the forefront during this time period and in no way would it be fair or right of us to ask any of our players to play a match in the coming days. The incident involving y/n has affected every single one of our players deeply and we want to be able to take the next few days to focus on their wellbeing and health, something we could not do if we were to have a game. We would like to reassure the public that y/n is in safe hands and is in a stable condition.

As you finished reading the statement from Arsenal you felt your bottom lip start to quiver, you looked over to Leah who was once again looking at her phone, “I’m sorry,” “for what?” she softly asked, “for scaring everyone, I-I didn’t mean to,” you quietly spoke as soft tears fell from your eyes, “hey, hey, none of that, it wasn’t anyone's fault okay, we all just care about you and want to make sure you’re okay,” she reassured you as she moved to sit with you in the bed, “okay” you said as you moved to lean your head back on her shoulder, “I love you so much, we all do, never forget that,”

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso x reader #awfc x reader #arsenal wfc #awfc #lionesses x reader #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #lionesses

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o9sessions · 1 month ago

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JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY — H.H

↻ 5 times you experience jealousy— and 1 time he does.

↻ fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, suggestive themes

↻ wc; 7.1k

1 —

The familiar ding of the elevator echoed through the Man Cave, reverberating off the metallic walls. You barely glanced up, still savoring the last few fries from the greasy basket in front of you. The smell of salt and oil hung in the air, mixing with the subtle hum of the computers. When you finally did look up, it wasn’t Ray as expected—it was Henry and Charlotte, their laughter spilling in like sunlight breaking through the cold steel of the lair.

They strolled toward the booth, Henry’s hand brushing against Charlotte’s arm as she made some joke you couldn’t hear but felt in the way his eyes crinkled. They collapsed into the soft, foamy cushions across from you, still giggling like schoolkids.

“Did Ray beep you guys too?” you asked, feigning nonchalance as you shifted in your seat, the cushion creaking beneath you.

“Yup,” Henry replied, his voice light, the ‘p’ popping playfully. “He sounded kinda urgent.”

Before you could say more, the sound of Ray’s heavy footsteps thudded in the distance. He emerged from behind the snack bar, dressed in his usual plaid shirt and jeans, pushing a cart laden with neatly stacked manila folders. The air around him smelled faintly of nacho cheese.

“Speak of the devil,” Charlotte quipped, her voice dripping with sarcasm, her eyes rolling in that effortless way she had. Henry chuckled beside her, their laughter vibrating through the booth.

You glanced at the cart as curiosity tugged at you, fingers lightly grazing the folder marked DRILL FINGER as you picked it up. Before you could speak, Henry’s hand reached over, brushing yours as he took the folder from you. The brief touch sent a spark up your arm, but before you could meet his eyes for more than a second, Ray slammed a fresh stack of files onto the table, snapping you both out of the moment.

“They’re mission reports,” Ray grunted. “Sort through them, figure out which villains are in jail and who’s still out there causing trouble.”

The collective groan that followed was immediate, filling the cave with a heavy sense of dread.

“And you’ll be doing… what, exactly?” Charlotte asked, raising an eyebrow at Ray’s retreating form.

“Eating nachos and watching you kids work,” he replied over his shoulder, already heading toward the snack machine.

With a sigh, you reached for a stack of files, the paper crinkling in your hands. It should’ve been a quiet task, but Charlotte soon broke the silence, nudging Henry. “Remember that time you got stuck in that weird dream and I had to save your ass?”

Henry’s laugh was soft but genuine, the sound low in his throat as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Hey, that was one time.”

You tried to stay focused on the mission reports, the feel of the rough paper slipping through your fingers grounding you, but their laughter kept creeping into the corners of your mind. Every shared glance, every inside joke felt like a secret you weren’t part of. Their chemistry was effortless, natural, and it left you feeling like a bystander in a scene that wasn’t meant for you. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, the leather squeaking beneath you as you cleared your throat, hoping to draw them back to the task at hand.

But they barely noticed, their world orbiting around each other. Another joke, another laugh. You clenched your jaw, the sound of their shared amusement feeling heavier than the silence that followed.

2 —

The soft murmur of the coffee shop wrapped around you like a blanket, blending with the gentle clinks of ceramic mugs and the rustle of pages turning. The smell of fresh-ground coffee drifted through the air, mixing with the warm scent of cinnamon pastries from behind the counter. You sat tucked away in the back corner, the dim light above casting a soft glow on your open textbooks. Midterms were looming, and you’d come here to focus, hoping the quiet hum of life around you would ease the anxiety brewing in your chest.

But just as your pen glided across your notes, the bell above the door jingled, and out of habit, you glanced up. Your breath caught.

Henry walked in. And with him—Bianca.

You froze, fingers tightening around your pen as you watched them make their way to a small table near the window. Bianca looked effortlessly perfect, her hair catching the afternoon light as she smiled up at Henry, her laughter a melodic hum that echoed faintly across the shop.

You sank lower into your seat, hidden behind a stack of books, heart pounding in your chest. They hadn’t noticed you. The chatter of the coffee shop continued, but all you could focus on was them—the way Bianca’s hand brushed against Henry’s arm as they sat down, the way she leaned in just a little too close when she spoke. Her laughter came easy, bubbling up every time Henry said something, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes lit up, even if just for a moment.

Your stomach twisted as Bianca casually reached across the table, her fingers grazing Henry’s. It was subtle, innocent maybe, but the gesture stung all the same. She was always like this—flirty, magnetic. You watched as she played with her hair, tilting her head slightly as she spoke, her eyes never leaving his. Henry seemed comfortable, leaning back in his chair, smiling that boyish smile that made your heart race.

You tried to focus on your textbook, but the words blurred. Your mind was too busy replaying every small interaction between them. You told yourself to leave—to get up and walk out—but your legs wouldn’t move. Instead, you stayed rooted in your chair, watching from the shadows as an hour ticked by, each small gesture between them feeling like a tiny dagger.

Bianca laughed again, her voice soft and sweet, and for a brief moment, Henry glanced out the window, his smile fading just slightly. You wondered if he was thinking of you—wondered if he remembered the promises he’d made before Bianca had left. But then his attention snapped back to her, and the thought dissolved.

The coffee in your cup had long gone cold, but you didn’t move. You just watched, heart heavy, until finally, they stood to leave. Bianca looped her arm through Henry’s, and they walked out together, the door’s bell jingling behind them.

For a moment, you just sat there in the dim light, the weight of what you’d witnessed pressing down on you. None of them knew you had been there. They didn’t see the way your fingers trembled, or how your heart had fractured, piece by piece, with every lingering glance and laugh shared between them.

In the quiet that followed, the world continued as if nothing had changed. But inside, something had shifted—jealousy, sadness, the ache of uncertainty. You let out a shaky breath, finally closing your book. For now, you’d leave the words unstudied and the questions unanswered.

3 —

The steady beep of the heart monitor echoed softly in the quiet of the Man Cave’s med bay. The fluorescent lights overhead cast a sterile glow on the room, making the sterile whites and grays feel even more lifeless. Henry sat beside the bed, his chair pulled close to where Phoebe lay, still and bruised, her breathing shallow but steady.

You stood a little farther back, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, your heart a jumble of emotions. The fight was over, but the weight of what had happened lingered thick in the air. You glanced at Henry, the way his eyes stayed locked on Phoebe, his expression tight with concern. There was something about the way he hovered, his presence protective and unyielding, that twisted in your chest.

You understood the direness of the situation—she had been hurt saving him. Still, a dull ache of jealousy had settled deep inside you, one that you tried to push away.

As Henry sat there, his mind seemed far away, lost in the chaos of what had happened earlier. The fight was still fresh in his memory, replaying in flashes.

It had started fast. They had stormed the warehouse, side by side, working in perfect sync. Phoebe had been fierce, taking down guards with her energy blasts while Henry worked on the bomb, his hands moving quickly over the wires. You had been there too, backing them up as best you could, but it was impossible not to notice how well they worked together. Every movement was fluid, every glance between them understanding without words.

And then, out of nowhere, the blast. Henry had barely registered it until Phoebe hit the ground, a sickening thud echoing through the warehouse as her body crumpled against the pillar.

He had rushed to her, the panic in his voice unmistakable. “Phoebe!” he’d shouted, his fingers trembling as they hovered over her, unsure of where to touch, how to help.

You had watched from a few feet away, heart in your throat. Jealousy flared then, sharp and stinging, watching how frantic he was. But then Phoebe had groaned, trying to sit up, wincing through the pain, and all of that jealousy faded, replaced by something else—fear. Fear for her. Fear for Henry.

Now, back in the med bay, that same fear hung in the room, even though the immediate danger had passed.

Henry hadn’t moved from her side since you had returned. His hand rested lightly on the edge of the bed, close but not quite touching, as if he was afraid he might hurt her if he did. His face was drawn, worry creasing his brow, and he kept glancing at the monitors as if checking for any sign of change.

The jealousy you had felt earlier was still there, but it was quieter now, dulled by the reality of the situation. You understood why Henry was acting the way he was. Phoebe had saved him—she’d taken a hit for him. Anyone would have done the same in his place. But that didn’t make it easier to watch.

She stirred slightly, a soft groan escaping her lips as her eyes fluttered open, still groggy from the sedatives. Henry straightened instantly, his face lighting up with relief.

“Phoebe?” His voice was soft, gentle, and he leaned forward slightly. “Hey, you’re okay. You’re safe now.”

Her eyes moved to him, a tired smile pulling at the corner of her lips. “Henry… you… okay?” she managed to whisper, her voice hoarse and weak.

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, brushing off her concern. “Thanks to you.”

You shifted awkwardly, feeling like an outsider as you watched the exchange. The way they looked at each other, even in this moment, was undeniable. There was a bond there now, something forged in the heat of battle, and it stung in a way you hadn’t expected. You bit your lip, trying to shake it off, reminding yourself that this wasn’t about you.

But it didn’t stop the feeling from settling deep inside.

Phoebe closed her eyes again, clearly exhausted, and Henry exhaled, tension easing from his shoulders as he leaned back slightly, though he still stayed close. You could see the weight of what had happened written all over his face—the relief that she was okay, the fear that something worse could have happened, and maybe something else you couldn’t quite place.

After a long silence, Henry finally spoke without looking away from Phoebe. “I thought we were going to lose her,” he admitted quietly, almost to himself. The words hung in the air, heavy with emotion.

You didn’t know what to say, so you stayed quiet, watching him, watching her. In that moment, you realized that even though the jealousy still lingered, you couldn’t blame him for caring. Phoebe was a hero, just like him, and she had fought beside him, saved his life. It wasn’t about you or her—it was about the bond they’d formed in that moment of danger.

But still, it hurt.

Henry stayed with Phoebe through the night, his hand never far from hers, and you stayed too, even though a part of you wanted to leave, wanted to escape the painful feeling gnawing at your heart. You stayed because, despite it all, you knew they were both important to you.

And maybe that was enough.

4 —

The bright lights of the studio gleamed overhead, casting a spotlight on the sleek set where Henry and Captain Man sat for their interview. The whole space felt larger than life—cameras lined up in perfect formation, audience murmuring softly, and the shimmer of fame hanging thick in the air. You stood off to the side, arms crossed, trying to remain unnoticed. It was supposed to be an exciting event—a chance for Kid Danger and Captain Man to speak to the world, to show the public a little more of their heroic selves.

But the moment the actress, the stunning and ever-charming Ava Monroe, glided onto the stage in her shimmering gown, something in your chest tightened.

She was breathtaking, even more so in person, and the second she sat down across from Henry, you felt the shift in the air. Her smile was dazzling, her laugh infectious, and from the very first question, her attention was completely fixed on him.

“So, Kid Danger,” she purred, leaning in slightly as if she was sharing a secret just between them. “What’s it like being the most eligible superhero in Swellview?”

Henry smiled awkwardly, shifting in his seat, his cheeks flushing a little under the lights. “Uh, I don’t know about that,” he laughed, glancing briefly toward Captain Man for help, but Ray only grinned, clearly enjoying watching Henry squirm under her attention.

You felt the jealousy prickle at your skin, creeping in slowly at first. It wasn’t just that Ava was beautiful or charming—it was the way she made it so obvious that she was interested. Every glance, every brush of her hand when she leaned a little too close, every laugh that lasted just a beat too long. And Henry—Henry was trying to keep it professional, but you could see how flustered he was, how her attention had him off-balance.

“I’m sure the girls in Swellview are just dying to know—do you have someone special in your life?” Ava asked, her tone light but with just enough curiosity to make it clear she was fishing for an answer.

Henry’s smile faltered for a split second, and your heart clenched. His gaze flickered toward you for the briefest moment, but before he could answer, Ava was already speaking again, her fingers gently brushing his arm as she laughed.

“I mean, with looks and charm like yours, it’s hard to believe you’re still single,” she teased, her voice sugary sweet.

Your jaw tightened, fingers digging into your arms as you tried to keep your composure. The casual touches, the way she batted her eyelashes—it was all so painfully obvious. And the worst part? The way Henry didn’t pull away, didn’t shut it down. He was polite, yes, but the fact that he didn’t seem to mind was enough to make your stomach twist with something ugly.

You told yourself you shouldn’t care. This was just an interview, just part of the job. Ava Monroe was an actress—flirting was probably part of her charm, part of the persona she put on for the cameras. But that logic didn’t make it any easier to watch.

The interview continued, but you couldn’t focus on the questions or the banter. All you could see was the way Ava’s attention never left Henry, the way her smile brightened whenever he spoke, the way her eyes sparkled like he was the only person in the room. Every second of it felt like a punch to the gut.

When the cameras finally cut and the audience clapped, Ava stood, flashing one last smile in Henry’s direction as she thanked him for the interview. Henry stood too, still looking a little dazed by it all, but before you could even approach him, Ava was already there again, her hand on his arm as she whispered something in his ear. He smiled—nothing more than a polite, awkward smile—but it was enough to push you over the edge.

You couldn’t stay any longer. The weight of watching it all, of feeling so invisible in the shadow of her charm, was too much.

Without a word, you turned and slipped out of the studio, your footsteps quick and silent as you made your way through the exit. The cool night air hit you as soon as you stepped outside, but it didn’t ease the tightness in your chest. Your breath came out in shaky bursts, a mix of frustration and heartache swirling inside of you. You had no right to feel this possessive, you told yourself. Henry wasn’t yours to claim, not in that way.

But that didn’t stop the hurt from creeping in. Seeing Ava bat her eyes at him, the way she touched his arm, the way Henry had smiled—however innocent it might have been—felt like a crack in something delicate.

Your heart felt like it had been shattered by something so small, yet so impossibly large all at once.

And so, you walked, letting the distance grow between you and the place where Henry still stood, unaware of the turmoil swirling inside of you.

5 —

The quiet hum of the library filled the air, punctuated by the soft shuffling of pages and the occasional murmur of whispered conversations. It was the kind of peaceful environment you usually thrived in, the kind of place that helped you focus and push through hours of studying. But today, no matter how hard you tried, the words in your textbook blurred together, unread.

Across the room, Henry sat at a long wooden table, his head bent over a pile of notes, talking animatedly with his partner for the project—Natalie Reynolds. She was smart, everyone knew that. Always the first to answer questions in class, always at the top of the grade charts, and, to make things worse, she was easygoing and fun. The kind of person that people naturally gravitated toward.

Normally, it wouldn’t bother you. Henry had friends, just like you did. But watching the two of them together for the past week—spending long hours holed up in the library, their heads close as they poured over their research—had become increasingly hard to ignore. You told yourself it was nothing. Just a project. They were working. That’s all.

Still, every time you glanced over at them, the jealousy tightened around your chest.

You tried to focus on your own work, flipping through pages of your notes, but you couldn’t stop your ears from tuning into their conversation. Henry was laughing at something Natalie said. You couldn’t help but remember the conversation you had yesterday:

“She’s honestly so cool,” Henry said, his voice carrying across the room as he talked about her later at Junk N’ Stuff.“Like, she just knows so much about this stuff. I’d be lost without her.”

Your grip tightened on your the figures you were restocking, trying to pretend the words didn’t sting, but they did. You tried brushing it off, convincing yourself it didn’t matter, but it was hard to ignore how often Henry had been talking about Natalie lately. How much he’d been praising her, how their study sessions seemed to stretch longer every day.

It wasn’t like you didn’t understand—Natalie was smart. She was capable, and probably the perfect partner for the project. But knowing that didn’t make it any easier. You couldn’t help but feel left out, like some invisible line had been drawn between them that you weren’t a part of.

You caught glimpses of their smiles, the way they leaned in close, heads bent together, deep in conversation about whatever new discovery they’d just made in their research. They were so focused, so wrapped up in their own little world, and you… you were just on the outside, looking in.

The worst part wasn’t even how close they seemed to be getting—it was the way Henry kept bringing her up in conversation when you did see him. Talking about how smart she was, how much she knew, how helpful she’d been. And every time, you’d nod along, forcing a smile, trying to be supportive, when all you really wanted was for him to stop.

You hated feeling this way—jealous, insecure. It wasn’t like you. Henry wasn’t doing anything wrong. He was just working on a project, just being nice, just appreciating someone else’s skills. But each compliment he gave her felt like a little piece of your connection to him was being chipped away.

Eventually, you closed your notebook and shoved it into your bag, unable to focus anymore. Maybe it was better to just leave, to stop torturing yourself by watching them from afar. But as you stood and slung your bag over your shoulder, you caught Henry’s eye. He smiled, waving you over.

“Hey!” he called, oblivious to the internal storm brewing inside you. “Come check out what we found.”

You hesitated, your heart tugging between wanting to be close to him and wanting to avoid the sharp sting of jealousy. With a deep breath, you crossed the room and stood at the edge of their table, forcing a smile as Henry excitedly explained whatever new piece of information they had discovered.

But you barely heard a word. All you could focus on was how natural they seemed together, how easy it was for him to talk to her, laugh with her, and how little space seemed left for you in that moment.

+1 —

The bright lights of the lavish dining room glimmered overhead, casting an elegant glow on the grand table set for a private dinner with one of Swellview’s most notorious villains, Victor Voss. The atmosphere felt charged, filled with the soft clinking of silverware and the low hum of conversation, as you stood off to the side, adjusting your suit to fit the part. This was a high-stakes mission—a chance for you to flirt with Victor while Kid Danger and Captain Man snuck in to retrieve vital information.

You were wired with an earpiece, allowing you to hear Henry and Ray’s every word as they made their way through the shadows. Your heart raced, not just from the thrill of the mission but from the daunting task ahead. Victor entered the room, his presence commanding, dressed in a tailored suit that accentuated his imposing figure. You felt a flicker of nerves but quickly pushed it aside; you were here to do a job.

As you approached Victor, a confident smile on your face, his gaze shifted to you, instantly intrigued. “Well, well, who do we have here?” he purred, leaning back in his chair, eyeing you with a mix of curiosity and amusement. “Are you here to charm me, darling?”

“Maybe,” you replied, leaning slightly closer, letting your voice drop to a conspiratorial whisper. “Or perhaps I’m here to learn a few things from the most powerful man in the room.” The flirtation was effortless, and the words felt natural as they slipped from your lips.

In your earpiece, you could hear Henry’s voice, a hint of tension threading through his words. “Stay focused. Remember, we need that intel,” he urged, though you could detect a slight edge to his tone.

Watching from the shadows, Henry clenched his jaw, his heart racing in a way he hadn’t expected. Every word you exchanged with Victor felt like a dagger to his gut. It wasn’t just the situation—it was the way you held yourself, how effortlessly charming you were, drawing Victor’s full attention. He’d always known you were good at this, but watching it unfold in front of him made it feel too real.

Victor chuckled, a sound deep and rich, leaning in to engage you further. “You’re bold. I like that. Tell me, what do you find so fascinating about my work?” His eyes sparkled with interest, and Henry felt a surge of frustration. This is just a game for him, he thought, struggling to keep his own feelings in check. Just a villain playing with his prey. But that didn’t make it any easier to watch.

“Power can be intoxicating,” you responded, flashing him a coy smile. “But it can also be lonely. Don’t you crave something more?” You could feel the energy shifting as he leaned even closer, his interest piqued.

Henry swallowed hard, an unfamiliar tension coiling in his chest. What am I doing here? I should be the one sitting next to you, he thought, his mind racing. He couldn’t shake the image of you and Victor, their chemistry crackling in the air like static. “Just stay focused,” he reminded himself. “We’re here for a reason.” But the words felt hollow against the weight of his jealousy.

In your ear, you heard Henry let out a barely audible sigh, followed by Ray’s chuckle. “Looks like she’s really got her claws into him,” Ray teased, but Henry’s irritation was mounting, the feeling of helplessness gnawing at him. “Just keep him busy; we’re almost in,” Ray continued, but Henry felt anything but calm.

As the banter continued, the tension in Henry’s voice tightened. “Just don’t get too close,” he cautioned, his protectiveness surfacing despite his best efforts to remain professional. What if she actually wins him over? The thought was almost unbearable.

“Power is lonely, but I have my ways of making it more… enjoyable,” Victor replied, his tone suggestive as he gestured for you to sit beside him. Henry’s heart sank as he watched you move closer, the warmth of your presence drawing Victor in. He could practically feel the heat radiating from the two of you, and it twisted like a knife in his gut.

“Enjoyment can come in many forms,” you countered, and Henry’s resolve faltered. You’re playing a dangerous game, he thought, anxiety spiking in his chest. The way you leaned in, the way you laughed—it was everything he feared and wanted all at once.

“Just keep flirting,” Ray whispered in your ear, but Henry could sense his irritation simmering just beneath the surface. “We need that information.” The urgency in Ray’s voice only heightened Henry’s frustration, making it difficult to concentrate on the mission.

You carried on, pouring on the charm, but every compliment exchanged with Victor felt like a knife twisting deeper into Henry’s resolve. “You know,” Victor said, his gaze flickering over to where Henry was concealed, “I’ve always admired someone who can keep up with me. How do you feel about a little… adventure?”

“Adventure can be thrilling,” you replied, casting a quick glance at Henry, who was clearly on edge. He was trying to mask his emotions, but his heart was racing. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go, he thought. I should be the one enjoying this dance, not him.

A faint rustle in your earpiece reminded you of the urgency. “We’re in position. Just hold his attention a little longer,” Henry urged, his voice strained. He hated feeling this way, the jealousy clawing at him. He wanted to focus on the mission but felt trapped by his own feelings.

Finally, as Victor leaned in closer, his voice sultry and enticing, Henry’s heart sank further. He caught a glimpse of you, your expression a mix of confidence and determination, and it sent a rush of warmth through him. You’re incredible, he thought, a mix of pride and frustration swelling within him. But why does it have to be like this?

With the stakes rising, Henry knew he had to keep his emotions in check, but the weight of his unspoken feelings felt like an anchor pulling him down. The evening wore on, laughter and flirtation blending with the tension that wrapped around you both, each moment laden with unvoiced feelings as he navigated the delicate balance of duty and desire.

And so, he stayed, weaving through the intricacies of deception, letting the distance between you and the truth shift, all while his heart ached for a connection that felt just out of reach. The longer he watched, the more he realized that what he truly craved was not just the mission’s success but the chance to be the one at your side, sharing in the dance of danger and attraction that seemed to come so naturally to you.

The tension hung heavy in the air as Henry and Ray settled into the car, the hum of the engine a stark contrast to the chaos of emotions swirling inside Henry. They had successfully retrieved the intel from Victor’s office, but the victory felt hollow as he replayed the earlier scene in his mind—your laughter, the way Victor leaned closer, how easily you had captivated him.

Ray glanced sideways at Henry, who was staring out the window, lost in thought. “You okay?” he asked, breaking the silence, though he already knew the answer.

Henry sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah, just… a lot to process.” He felt like a ball of frayed nerves, each thought pulling him in a different direction. You did what you had to do, he reminded himself, but the sting of jealousy was still fresh. “I just didn’t expect it to feel like that,” he admitted quietly, his eyes still fixed on the passing streetlights.

Ray raised an eyebrow, sensing the weight of Henry’s frustration. “You mean seeing her flirt with Victor? That wasn’t part of the plan, was it?”

“Not like that,” Henry replied, his voice tense. “I know it was just a distraction, but watching her… it’s like she was in her element. Like she was enjoying it.” The words came out more bitter than he intended, and he felt a wave of guilt wash over him. , he chided himself. But the feeling of helplessness clawed at him.

Ray nodded, trying to understand. “It’s just a job, man. We all know how good she is at this.” He paused, gauging Henry’s reaction. “You can’t let it get to you. She’s got a role to play.”

“Yeah, but it’s hard to watch someone else take the spotlight,” Henry muttered, his fingers tapping restlessly against the seat. “I’ve seen her take on villains before, but this was different. He was leaning in, like he wanted something more.”

“I get it,” Ray said, his tone more serious now. “But you’re Kid Danger. She’s not going to forget that.” He watched Henry’s jaw tighten, the flicker of insecurity written all over his face. “You’ve got to trust her, man. She can handle herself.”

Trust her, Henry repeated silently to himself, wishing he could. The fact that you had been so effortlessly charming, so confident in the face of danger, made it even harder to swallow. “I know she can,” he said finally, forcing a nod, but the doubt lingered. What if she enjoyed it too much?

Ray shifted in his seat, sensing the thick atmosphere. “Look, once we pick her up, this whole thing will be behind us. You’ll have your chance to talk to her.”

“Yeah, if I can even find the words,” Henry replied, his voice low. The thought of confronting you about his feelings—about everything he had experienced during the mission—felt daunting. Would you understand? Would you see how hard it had been for him to watch?

As they approached the designated pickup location, Henry’s heart raced at the thought of seeing you again. What if she thought it was all just part of the act? He didn’t want to be just another distraction in your world, yet that was exactly how he felt.

“Just keep it cool,” Ray advised as he pulled up to the curb, his eyes scanning the area for any sign of you. “You can’t let your feelings cloud the mission. You know that.”

Henry nodded but found it hard to focus. His thoughts were tangled, emotions roiling beneath the surface. What if this changes everything? He couldn’t shake the feeling that the mission had shifted something between you two—something more than just friendship.

The wait felt interminable, each second dragging on as Henry replayed every moment from the dinner in his head. Finally, he spotted you stepping out of the building, your confident stride and easy smile radiating energy that made his heart flutter and ache at the same time.

When you slid into the backseat, the atmosphere instantly changed. You were all smiles, but Henry noticed the glimmer in your eyes that hinted at the tension you must have felt earlier. “You guys won’t believe what just happened!” you exclaimed, clearly still riding the high of the mission’s success.

Ray smiled at you, engaging in light banter, but Henry remained silent, his thoughts a storm of conflicting emotions. He felt like an outsider in the moment, watching you bask in the aftermath of your performance with Victor.

As Ray continued to drive, the tension in the car grew thicker, punctuated by the unspoken words that hung in the air. Every glance you exchanged felt electric, charged with feelings that neither of you had dared to voice.

Henry stole another glance at you, his mind racing. Each second stretching into an eternity as you chatted with Ray, laughter mingling with the tension that seemed to weave its way between you and Henry.

Finally, as the familiar streets of Swellview passed by. The unease in his chest pushed him forward, urging him to break the silence, but he didn’t . He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his feelings pressing down on him like a heavy fog.

The workout room in the Man Cave hummed with a rhythmic energy, the sound of punching bags swaying gently and sneakers squeaking against the polished floor blending into a symphony of exertion. You moved with focused determination, sweat glistening on your skin as you threw punches at the heavy bag, each strike a release of the pent-up stress that had built over midterm week. The air was thick with the scent of rubber mats and the faint echo of heavy weights clanging in the distance, a welcome distraction from the swirl of thoughts clouding your mind.

You were aware of the tension that had developed between you and Henry over the past few weeks. It felt like a weight pressing on your chest, growing heavier with each passing day. The memory of his close encounters with various girls—each one more charming than the last—gnawed at you. You tried to brush it off, convincing yourself that you were overreacting, but the truth was undeniable: the jealousy was like a constant, throbbing ache, and it didn’t help that you felt more distant from Henry than ever.

As you focused on your training, each punch against the bag was a desperate attempt to release the frustration that threatened to boil over. The rhythm of your movements was meditative, yet your mind was anything but calm. Memories of Henry laughing with those girls played on a loop, a haunting reminder of the connection you wished you had with him. You could still hear the laughter echoing in your ears—the easy banter, the way his eyes lit up when he was around them. It stung more than you cared to admit.

The door creaked open, breaking your concentration, and you glanced over to see Henry emerging from the locker room, his body still glistening from his earlier workout. The sight of him took your breath away; the muscles in his arms flexed with every movement, and the way his hair fell across his forehead made your heart race. Yet, as soon as he stepped into the room, the atmosphere shifted, tension crackling like electricity in the air. You could feel it—the unspoken words, the unresolved feelings.

“Hey,” he called out, his voice low but confident, breaking through the silence that had enveloped you both. “Wanna spar?”

Your heart raced, caught between desire and reluctance. You shook your head, trying to play it cool. “No thanks, I’m good,” you replied, your voice steady, but the frustration you felt seeped through the cracks. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much his presence affected you, especially after everything that had happened recently.

“Oh, come on,” he urged, stepping closer, a playful grin flickering across his lips, a grin that made your stomach flutter and clench at the same time. “I promise I won’t go easy on you.”

The mention of that last part made your heart drop, a fresh wave of jealousy crashing over you like a cold wave. “You mean you won’t go easy on me like you didn’t go easy on those other girls?” you shot back, your voice sharper than you intended. The bitterness of jealousy was a familiar taste, one you hated but couldn’t escape.

Henry’s expression faltered for just a moment, but he quickly masked it with determination, his jaw tightening. “That’s not fair. This isn’t about them.”

“Isn’t it?” The words slipped out before you could stop them, your pulse quickening as you felt the heat rise to your cheeks. “You’ve been with so many girls lately, it’s weird.”

He clenched his jaw, a flash of frustration igniting within him. “Weird?” he echoed, his voice rising a notch. “You think i’m the only one that’s ‘weird’?”

You frowned, crossing your arms. “What do you mean?”

“Oh don’t be dense, it’s not like you were just flirting with some random guy,” he snapped, his emotions boiling over. “You were flirting with a villain! Victor Voss! You were practically hanging on his every word!”

You blinked, taken aback by the sudden intensity in his voice. “Henry, it was part of the mission! I had to distract him to get the intel. You know that.”

“Yeah, I know that!” he shot back, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “But it doesn’t mean I have to like it! Watching you smile at him, the way he leaned in closer… you know you liked it.” he said, his tone more challenging, almost daring you to confront the truth. The intensity of his gaze sent a thrill through you, a mixture of annoyance and longing that twisted your insides.

“Come on. Let’s get this out of our systems.”

After a moment’s hesitation, you exhaled a sharp breath, finally giving in to the urge that had been bubbling beneath the surface. “Fine. But don’t cry when I wipe the floor with you.”

As you squared off, the air thickened with anticipation. You could feel the heat radiating off him, his presence pulling you in like a magnet. With the adrenaline coursing through your veins, you began with playful jabs, each strike punctuated by a shared history of friendship that made this moment feel electric.

Yet, the tension simmering beneath the surface was impossible to ignore. Every punch he threw felt like a reminder of the distance that had grown between you, a barrier that had been built on misunderstandings and unresolved feelings. With each hit, you found yourself more frustrated—not just at him, but at the entire situation. You wanted to fight, to push against that barrier, but part of you was terrified of what would happen if you did.

“You think you’re so great, huh?” you teased, sidestepping a punch he aimed at you. “But you’re still avoiding the truth.”

“I’m not avoiding anything!” he replied, landing a solid hit to your shoulder, a small grin tugging at his lips as he feigned innocence.

“Really? Because it seems like you’re avoiding me since those girls came along,” you shot back, landing a kick against his side. The words felt charged, a mix of frustration and longing spilling over as you fought.

Henry’s expression darkened, and the playful tone slipped away. “You think this is about them?” he asked, his voice low and intense. “This is about you pushing me away!”

The air crackled with unfiltered emotions, and as you continued to spar, the fight morphed into a release of all the pent-up tension. You both knew it was more than just a physical match; it was a battleground for your feelings, an attempt to confront the truths that had been lingering in the space between you.

“I don’t want to feel jealous, Henry!” you yelled, frustration boiling over. “But how am I supposed to ignore it when you’re always with them?”

“Then why are you acting like you don’t care?” he countered, his breath coming in quick bursts. “I’m tired of pretending we’re not something more than friends!”

With each exchange, the intensity escalated. You could feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins, pushing you to the brink as you both vented your frustrations. As he caught your punch, his grip was firm yet gentle, and your heart raced as you locked eyes, the world around you fading into the background.

“Maybe we should stop fighting,” you murmured, your breath mingling with his, the space between you charged with electricity.

“Maybe we should,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper, the intensity in his gaze igniting something deep within you.

Before you could think, he pulled you closer, the intensity of your earlier sparring morphing into something more profound. Your lips crashed together, the kiss igniting a fire that had been simmering between you all along. It was rough and passionate, each moment a release of the frustration, jealousy, and longing that had been pent up for far too long.

You felt every ounce of pent-up emotion flood through you as you melted into him, bodies moving together with an urgency that spoke louder than any words exchanged in the heat of battle. The kiss deepened, hands roaming freely, exploring the familiar territory you both had skirted around for so long.

His grip on the back of your head tightens, his fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you in closer. His lips crash down onto yours, hard and rough.

“Mine.” He growls against your mouth, his tongue pushing its way past your lips to explore the inside of your wet cavern, tongue battling against your own.

Henry pulled you closer, his hands gripping your waist, fingers digging in just enough to remind you of the heat radiating from his body. Every kiss was a confession, every breath an admission of the desire that had been simmering beneath the surface. You lost yourself in the moment, forgetting everything else—the jealousy, the misunderstandings, the insecurities.

As the kiss broke, you both pulled away, gasping for breath, the reality of the situation crashing back in. The silence between you was thick with the weight of what had just transpired, a new understanding settling into the space that had once been filled with tension and uncertainty.

“What just happened?” you whispered, a mix of exhilaration and disbelief coursing through you.

Henry searched your eyes, vulnerability flickering across his features. “I don’t know,” he admitted, his voice husky. “But I know I want to figure it out—with you.”

Fin.

NAVI

#henry hart x reader #kid danger x reader #henry danger x reader #henry danger #o9sessions

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satorhime · 1 year ago

Text

. ･｡･ self checkout ࿐ nagi seishiro.

── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ content ㆍ﹒fluff, aged up!nagi, pro footballer!nagi, height difference (reader is shorter than nagi), shopping trips, slightly suggestive, established relationship. f!reader. w.c. 2k & not proofread.

── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ synopsis ㆍ﹒nagi enjoys running errands if the two of you go together. & ໒꒰ྀི ´ ꒳ ` ꒱ྀིა notes: baby’s first blue lock fic !! honestly i’m supa nervous bc i haven’t written 4 them before n i’m still figuring things out but i hope u enjoy reading this anw <333

“this date is so tiring,” nagi laments for the fifth time since you stepped through the automated sliding doors of the neighborhood supermarket. he blows out a breath from his puffed cheeks, sounding as if he is on the verge of collapsing while you browse the shelves for pantry essentials and late night snacks. “when can we go home?”

a trendy song from a summer spotify mix croons over the tinny speakers overhead, its bubblegum pop lyrics interrupted every now and then by a cheery voice advertising new items and upcoming discounts. the supermarket is busier than when you and seishiro usually stop by, which isn’t all that surprising considering it’s the end of the day. college students carry armfuls of instant ramen and sugary sodas for study sessions and old ladies browse for medicinal teas while parents push full carts of groceries, ignoring their wailing children who press their little noses against the frosty glass of the freezers, begging to be given overpriced ice creams locked away inside.

and you resist the urge to roll your eyes with exasperation, glancing over to where your boyfriend leans heavily on the handle of the cart he has been tasked with pushing for you— his long fingers tapping away at a mobile game on the screen of his phone.

“that’s because,” you begin, wagging a finger at him when you turn around and toss an item into the bottom of the cart. “it’s not a date, sei. i told you that i had to run errands today and you insisted on coming with me when you hate it.”

“‘s’boring at home when you’re not there, so it seemed like a good idea at first,” he shrugs, rolling the cart further down the aisle when you’re on the move again. slothy, midwinter gray eyes drag lazily over your body— taking in the way your faded t-shirt (which is, really, just one of his old ones) rides up a little on your body, exposing the cute little dimples in the soft part of your back as you stand on your tiptoes, struggling to reach one of the higher shelves in the freezer section.

you are well aware that nagi hates daily tasks. things such as making the bed in the morning, washing the dishes after dinner, or visiting the laundromat once a week requires too much energy from your drowsy footballer boyfriend, but it makes you happy to know that he tries, even if he falls asleep while doing it; that he will do anything if you are involved, and nothing if you aren’t.

like right now, he abandons his mobile game and the shopping cart in the middle of the aisle without care to come over and help you, making a mother of two-under-two glare at him viciously. he snorts, sliding his hand into the back pocket of your denim shorts, a romantic comedy habit of his when the two of you are walking anywhere together. nagi’s head tilts cutely to one side, blinking owlishly up at the shelves. “which one d’you wanna get, shortstack?”

“i am not short,” you huff, twisting your mouth to one side at his teasing, but you point to the item you want— an assorted pack of ice lollies. “shelves are designed against short people. and i dunno— are we in the mood for ice cream or popsicles?”

it’s hard to make a decision because freezers full of summer treats line both sides of the aisle. tubs of gourmet gelatos, variety packs of creamy ice candies, and an endless selection of mochi with custard fillings in the middle that make your mouth water at the thought of bringing them home with you.

“i’ll eat them no matter what anyway,” he shrugs, unwilling to be the one to choose, but then his gray eyes glance down at your lips, then back to the items in front of you. you swear that his eyes darken to a stormier color, even though his expression never changes. “you make cute sounds when you suck on ice pops, and you always taste sweet after. get those.”

and then he faces forward, browsing the selection of ice creams with interest, as if his words didn’t short circuit a current in your brain. you’ll never understand how seishiro can say the most outlandish things so casually, only to return to what he’s doing while you’re left attempting to calm your fast heart.

“ice pops it is,” you say, a little winded. “make sure to get the second pack, and not the first.”

“mhnn, why’s it matter? the second one’s farther back. they all look the same to me.”

“they’re not. the first is one everybody has touched or returned.”

“that . . . makes sense,” he considers it, then he nods, lips formed into a little ‘o’ shape. “okay, we’ll get the second one.”

you watch as he steps forward, pushing the first pack of ice lollies aside to select the second as you requested, reaching the item with ease and heavens, it’s moments like these when you are reminded just how much bigger seishiro is. he’s always towered over your shorter height and it’s so, so unfair how he uses it to his advantage, making your tummy burn at the sight. frosty air wafts from the open door of the freezer, bringing chills over your heated skin. “‘s a good thing i was here, since you’re so little— there was no way you could reach it.”

“‘m not little,” you mumble, all pouty because nagi is squishing your cheeks between two finger pads. “you’re just so tall. it’s unfair.”

“want me to be shorter?” he asks, and before you can ask what he means, nagi drops the pack of ice pops into your hands and deflates dramatically, bending down to drape himself over your frame. his head tucked against your shoulder, the footballer’s milky fringe tickling the skin of your neck as he closes his eyes. “man, now ‘m even more tired.”

“seishiro, you’re heavy.”

“i know,” he sighs, eyes shuttering below thick lashes, but he makes no effort to move away from your body. instead, his hand slithers under your shirt. making you shiver because his fingertips are dewy and cold from the arctic blast of the freezer and the frozen treat he picked up. you hiss, squirming under his touch as his fingers trail across your belly. “but i’m tired ‘n’ you feel s’soft, like a pillow.”

“nagi, off,” you wheeze, his extra weight making it hard for you to properly breathe. it’s easy to forget how solid he is, straight lines of athletic muscle that usually has you cow-eyed and cooing, as long as it’s not weighing you down in the middle of a supermarket. you try to shake him off, but the midfielder only squeezes you against his body even tighter, his slightly damp lips pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. “we’re never gonna get anything done like this, you lazy boy. if you don’t wanna walk, go wait in the sitting area with the grandpas.”

he sighs in defeat and shakes his head, pressing his lips together in that cute frown he pulls whenever he’s thinking. then, he’s dropping his arms from you suddenly. “mmhn, got a better idea.”

“and what’s that—”

you face nagi, only to catch your boyfriend with one foot in the shopping cart as he tries to hoist himself over the railing and inside of the basket.

“sei, you can’t fit in there—!” your eyes flicker between him, and the elderly man judging the two of you at the other end of the aisle. “you’re too big.”

“you’re always saying things like that,” he says, and the innuendo intertwined in the words flies over your pretty head because with one boost, he’s hopping over the railing and sinking into the cart, the metal rattling in protest. you stand there, dumbstruck as he settles. “now i can stay with you without walking.”

“yeah, but now that means i have to push you,” you grumble. “i should leave you here and get a new cart.”

but it’s hard to refuse when your boyfriend is that cute. his impossibly long legs are folded against his chest so that he can fit inside the shopping cart comfortably, taking extra care not to crush any of the delicate items surrounding him. the lower half of his face is buried into the collar of his soft hoodie as he absently chews on the drawstrings, but you can still see the sanrio bandaid you put on him yesterday after he got a nasty elbow to the cheek during football practice.

even though you two are already receiving strange looks from other shoppers passing by, you grip the handle, pushing the cart and your boyfriend dutifully, rolling it onto the next aisle.

“you look ridiculous,” you tell him, but you’re grinning. “but here, you’re on list duty. what do we need to get next?”

nagi’s eyes dutifully scan over the shopping list open in the notes app of your phone, his fingernail scrolling the screen lightly.

“it says ‘ramen because my greedy athlete bf keeps eating it all’ so y’need to get . . . oi, you mean me—”

“i wonder who wrote that there,” you whistle innocently, plucking the device out of his hands, wheeling him away fast.

the rest of your shopping trip is a blur, except for you turning a corner too fast and nearly dumping him out of the cart or the weird looks shoppers continue to give you because by the time you’re lining up in the queue, nagi is buried under the items because he takes up too much space. there’s a bag of rice on one shoulder, a pack of ramen on the other and fresh radishes sprouting from the snowy peaks of his head. not to mention, he’s still holding the pack of ice pops, condensation dripping over his hands.

“you’re making them melt, sei.” because he runs hot a heated blanket in the summer, and you can sympathize with the poor popsicles being defrosted in his big hands.

“‘m gonna eat one so they won’t— oh, hey this one is lemon,” he says, prying open the cardboard lid and tearing open the plastic wrapper of a lemon crème ice pop. tongue peeking out to lick before he’s holding it over his shoulder for you to taste next. “try it. i don’t sound as cute as you when i eat them.”

“sei, you’re not supposed to open those before we—” but nagi pushes the cold treat between your lips insistently, your eyes rounding wide, whining in protest as the ice pop hits your sensitive teeth. but it does taste good— creamy, sweet and sour flavors coating the surface of your tongue. “oh, it’s sh’good. we should get another pack.”

“see? y’make the cutest sounds when you suck it.”

“shut up, seishiro.”

you begin placing the items on the conveyor belt, listening to the irritating bleep, bleep, bleep of the scanner as the cashier rings up each product. you’re not frugal, but you peep at the total on the screen every now and then with a wince.

“that’s it for you, or are you buying the man in your cart too, ma’am?” the cashier asks, glancing at nagi as he finishes off the melting ice pop in the shopping cart, chin resting on top of his knees.

“no,” and you giggle, cheeks warming as you roll your eyes in exasperation. “this one is already mine.”

#little novels.#nagi x reader #nagi x you #nagi fluff #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro x you #blue lock x reader #blue lock fluff #blue lock x you #bllk x you #bllk x reader #bllk fluff

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thehistoriccemetery · 10 months ago

Note

Heya 👋 I enjoy reading your headcanons, and I love your prompts… could you write the ladies for #5 Tav fainting from a hidden injury?

Tav Faints Due to Hidden Injury

Hey! I always enjoy reading yours as well! Feel free to use any of those prompts as I’d love to see your take on them.

I probably won’t do anything more injury prompts for a while; there’s only so many ways I can hurt poor Tav.

Here’s prompt #5 for Shadowheart, Lae’zel, Karlach, and Minthara.

On the way into Baldur’s Gate, while all of your companions watch the lands free themselves of the shadow curse, you manage to walk carelessly into a broken cart handle. You’re no healer, but you know Shadowheart is going to have a thing or two to say if you ask her to patch it up. You decide it doesn’t look that bad, and patch it up yourself. It’s an exciting day, finally arriving in the city. Why bring down the mood with a fresh gash in the side?

Shadowheart

The two of you are taking a short walk to familiarize yourselves with the new camp at Wrym’s Lookout.

You had been trying to keep your cool, but as you climbed up ladders and dodged rumble, you felt the ache in your side start to grow.

You stop and lean against a beam for support, clutching your side and breathing heavily.

“Are you alright, love?” Shadowheart asks tenderly, approaching you slowly before you quickly collapse on the ground.

She rushes over, trying and failing to catch you. She rolls you over on your back, lifting your shirt.

She sees the makeshift bandages you’ve wrapped yourself in and carefully slices away at them with her dagger.

She flinches, seeing the deep gash in your skin. Luckily, you just happen to be in love with one of the best clerics around. A cure wounds spell patches you right up.

You wake up almost immediately to a very unhappy looking Shadowheart.

“Care to explain the massive laceration I just found under your shirt?” She quips. “Or, are we just withholding such information with one another these days.”

“You’re one to talk about withholding information,” you attempt to joke.

She does not laugh. “So I suppose you’ve just forgotten how you acquired such a wound?”

You sighed. “It was on the bridge on the way over. I-I impaled myself with a piece of wood.”

She hits the back of your head with the back of her hand. “Ow!” You shout.

“It would’ve taken me two seconds to heal that wound up fresh. Now you’ve probably got a variety of different diseases swimming around from how poorly you packed it.”

She reaches out a hand to help you to your feet. “Let’s go,” she says. “I’m going to teach you how to properly wrap a wound.”

Lae’zel

You and Lae’zel walk alongside the city walls, just outside the city. Looking for clear signs of damage from the Netherbrain.

She comments a few times on how you are moving slower than usual. “We cannot afford to be so sluggish in the days to come,” she tells you.

It isn’t until you fade paler than Vlaakith herself that she notices something is seriously wrong. You fall to the ground before she can think to catch you.

She notices blood beginning to speckle your undershirt. “Tsk’va!” She curses, cutting away the fabric entirely.

You’re too far from camp and losing too much blood for her to get you back in time. She’s going to have to deal with this herself.

But she couldn’t tell you the first thing about closing a wound.

Hair. She remembers a ghustil sewing her up with a strand of her own hair. She plucks a hair from your head and gets to work.

You wake up halfway through the delicate operation, half crying from the pain of the repeated rough stabbing of your already tender wound.

“Silence!” She shouts, lazer focused on the task at hand. It doesn’t take a psionic tadpole connection to tell that she is angry.

When she’s finally finished, the wound looks… unpleasant to put it mildly. But it should be enough to get you back to camp.

“I didn’t think I needed to explain to you the stupidity of hiding grave afflictions,” she spits.

You open your mouth to apologize, but she cuts you off. “I will not hear apologies, only promises that it will not happen again.”

Karlach

Growing up on the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate, Karlach is all too excited to revisit some of her favorite places with you.

Her excitement makes for an easy distraction. She is so focused on her surroundings she doesn’t notice the way you grind your teeth together in pain.

“Hey Soldier, check this out,” she shouts excitedly, walking back towards you with some cool plants she found.

You try to smile, but whiteness clouds your vision as you fall to the ground. She drops the plant and runs to hold you up.

“Soldier? You know you’re not supposed to go and pass out on me. I don’t know how to…”

Panic starts to rise in her chest and she lays you gently on the ground. “Alright Karlach, you got this,” she assures herself.

She lifts the base of your shirt, starting to panic again when she sees the blood soaked bandages.

She gingerly removes them revealing the nasty gash underneath. “Oh boy, you really did a number on yourself,” she says.

She looks around, trying to find absolutely anything that could close the wound. She didn’t know any spells, nor did she know anything about sutures.

She sighed. She had an idea, but she didn’t like it. “Okay soldier, I’m just gonna need you to stay asleep for a little while longer. Can you do that for me?”

Dammon had fixed up her engine so she didn’t burn so hot anymore, but she was pretty sure she could just get hot enough….

She pinched the wound together, then, with clenched teeth, she placed her other hand on top of it. She channeled all of her anger until she smelt the burning of flesh.

You jolted awake with a scream and she pulled away. The wound was now replaced with a cauterized burn.

“It worked! You’re okay!” She exclaimed, rather impressed with herself. “You are never allowed to do that to me again.”

You groan, sitting up. Your head is still spinning from pain and blood loss. You sway ever so slightly.

“Woah, slow down there soldier,” Karlach says, gently pushing you back to lie down. “Again does include right now, you know. Come on. Let’s get you back to camp.”

Minthara

You and Minthara take a stroll around the outer city, allowing her to take in a surface city for the first time.

Not far into your walk though, you begin to feel lightheaded. “Minthara I think I need to sit-“ you are cut off abruptly by your own collapse.

You fall limp onto the cobblestone on the city streets.

She is quickly down beside, cooling your face with her cool hands. It’s only then she notices the bloody bandages under your shirt.

Confused, she cuts away with them away, revealing your injury.

Her face immediately pales. The wound is mild, nothing she is incapable of handling with a simple laying of hand. But you kept this from her.

She patches the wound with a gentle touch. But her mind continues to race. Why would you not tell her? Do you not trust her? Should she trust you?

You stir awake with a whine. The pain in your side is dulled, and you’re able to sit up with relative ease.

Minthara stares harshly back at you, silently awaiting an explanation. When you don’t offer one she asks, “why have you kept this from me?” She tries to hide her hurt behind anger.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize. “It’s just- I knew you were excited to see the city- and it was a stupid injury anyway I just- I didn’t want to be a bother.“

She looks dissatisfied with your answer. “We do not keep such grave secrets from one another. My trust is a fragile thing.”

You sigh, defeated. “I know. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

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lwwife · 10 months ago

Note

Leah and r starts going out, after meetings maybe in a bar or something where r work, and eventually dating. They try to keep it a secret but the news goes out and most people are against it and start insulting ecc e, and she start the question everything cause she thinks that Leah deserves better than her, someone how famous and talented LIKE her, but Leah will not hear any of the it cause she loves her. A little bit of angst but HAPPY ENDING

Because I love YOU

“From the moment I saw you”

Fluff, angst, suggestive, tw: themes of bullying

Word count: 2,167

——————————————————————————

Leah’s pov:

“Hi there”, I bring my head up from where it hung low watching my hand swirl the straw around my vodka coke. As my neck lifts, I’m brought to face one of the most beautiful girls I have ever laid eyes on, stood behind the bar, dressed in a black tank top, paired with black jeans and a belt. Wow. I feel my mouth slightly open, I quickly lick my lips and shut it.

“Can I get you anything else? You don’t seem to be enjoying that one.” She says gesturing to the drink stood in front of me. I look down at my full tall glass and sigh. After what I now realise is around 30 seconds a hand cups my chin, and my head is once again raised. I lock eyes with her again, all my worries of the night seem to fade, she smiles genuinely,

“I’m y/n.”

“I- um- hi- uhhh-“ I stutter trying to find the words to return whilst she stares through me.

“Y/n” she cocks her head to the right and smiles.

“Yeah right, y/n. Hi, I’m Leah” I finally find the courage to say, and I return her smile.

“Well” she pauses, then gestures to me “Leah”, she laughs, “why don’t I take this”, she reaches for my drink, holding onto it as if asking for permission, “and make you one of my specials?” She grins, and leans forward. Wow. Her cleavage shows from the top of her tank top and my mouth once again is agape. I swallow.

“I um-“ she raises an eyebrow and instantly persuades me. “Yes. Yes why not, thank you”

She leans back, and smiles brightly, “alright then, coming right up.” She winks and walks away with my drink.

——————————————————————————

Y/n’s pov: (6 months later)

My mind switches on and my eyes flutter open. My senses intake the arms wrapped around me, the smell of vanilla surrounding me and finally the sight of my beautiful blonde girl laid in front of me, hair messy and sprawled across the pillow, laid naked, sheets covering her from the chest down. I smile softly at the light snores coming from her, I lean forward and kiss her forehead softly, and run my hands up and down her back. After a few seconds Leah begins to stir awake.

“Mhhhm” she grumbles. Leah opens her eyes, looks straight at me, smiling brighter than anyone should in the morning, and shuts her blue eyes again snuggling in closer to me, head tucked in the crook of my neck, and arms wrapping around me much tighter than I expect from her sleepy body.

“Happy anniversary baby girl” I whisper, as I run my hands through her freshly washed hair.

I feel her smile against my skin, then soft kisses began to be laid on my neck, moving up as the grip around me loosens. Eventually after quickly kissing every inch of skin from my collarbone to jaw, Leah hovers above me, kisses both cheeks, my forehead, nose, chin, and finally a long peck on my lips. As she pulls back she releases that beautiful warm smile.

“Happy anniversary my love” she whispers, still grinning lighter than the sun.

I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, and she collapses on top of me again.

“UGH Le, Jesus” I scowl from the hard hit of her body.

She simply giggles and gets up, off the bed.

“Up you get sloth, I have a lot planned for our special day” she winks and runs off to the bathroom, chuckling to herself.

I roll my eyes and giggle at her sarcastic hypocrisy and tumble out of bed.

——————————————————————————

Leah certainly did live up to her promise of plans for today. Maybe a little too much. She first drove you both to go carting, where she became EXTREMELY competitive, but once you let her win, getting tired of her grumpy losing attitude she switched to her regular romantic self.

“Don’t worry baby, maybe you’ll get it next time” she gloats, wrapping an arm around my shoulder, and kissing my head.

“Yeah yeah” you roll your eyes.

By the end of the day you were exhausted, Leah tiring you with multiple activities, and some anniversary sex in locations which cannot be disclosed for possible legal reasons.

However, as fatigued as you were, your energy heightened when Leah revealed to you she’d made a booking at the restaurant that you two had been dying to go to.

“A 6 week waiting list” Leah huffed at you, “you’re high maintenance missy” she clicks her head at you.

——————————————————————————

After the most beautiful night full of laughs, wine, and love, you awoke the next morning feeling fulfilled. Leah was dead asleep next to you, so you decided to scroll on your phone for a bit. As you tapped the screen you were overwhelmed with hundreds of notifications. You rubbed your eyes shocked. When you unlocked your phone, you found news alerts, tagged posts, comments and more.

Your relationship had been exposed. Leah and you had been together for 6 months as of yesterday. Coming off the back of the euros win and Leah’s newfound fame, you both decided to keep yourselves private for a little while longer. However, that agreement was suddenly broken as you stumble across pictures of Leah and you, eating dinner together, holding hands, and finally kissing on the street. Your jaw dropped. “Shit” you whisper shouted.

“What? What’s wrong babe?” You turn around to find Leah slumped up, rubbing her eyes, looking at you questioningly. You go to answer her when your phone starts to ping again. You turn your attention back to your phone to find comment notifications on an ENews! Post

BREAKING: Leah Williamson spotted with girl.

Leah Williamson was spotted last night with a girl who after further research we’ve found to be bartender y/n y/ln. Apparently the pair were spotted holding hands at DeNiro’s Italian restaurant last night, supposedly on a date, they were later spotted kissing in the street, sources have provided the following photos:

(Pretended these pics apply properly 😭)

What do you all think of it girl Leah Williamson’s new fling?

User563869: AWFUL, god Leah can do much better than that

RyanTorn7638: A bartender??! Pass her over, Leah can do so much better wtf.

Grace.walker_: LEAH NO GET BACK WITH JORDAN

JJ12: Oof, y/n is PUNCHING

fran_lawson10: DUMP THAT BITCH DAMN

You feel water run down your cheek, you quickly wipe away the stream and get up out of bed.

“Baby! Where are you going?” Leah calls after you from bed

“Out.” You mumble back

——————————————————————————

Leah’s pov:

Y/n stormed out almost four hours ago, I’ve been worrying and pacing around the house for hours, calling and texting her, after my threat to call the police she finally texted back “I’m fine, I’ll be back later”, I was infuriated but I decided as long as she’s safe it’s okay, something is obviously wrong but I don’t want to push her. So I sat for three more hours, waiting in silence on the couch until finally I hear the keys turn and the front door open. I ran to her, instantly embracing her in my arms.

“Oh my god baby are you okay where were you?!” I spoke into her hair.

To my surprise she roughly pushed me off her, “I went for a drive” she spoke and walked past me. I stood dumbfounded, I don’t understand what I did.

“Hey!” I shouted.

She ignored me and continued to walk up the stairs.

“Baby! Hey! Y/n!” I heard a door slam shut. Something fuelled inside me, a fire rose and I stormed upstairs. As I reached the closed door I took a deep breath. This isn’t the way to deal with it. I slowly walked into the room, y/n laid on the bed, phone in hand. I walked towards her and sat down on the edge of the bed.

“Darling” I grabbed her hand. She snatched it away from me, I looked at her, eyebrows furrowed. “What’s going on?” I whispered.

“Nothings going on Leah!” She never calls me Leah. My face falls instantly. She notices and quickly speaks, “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have spoken like that, I’m just tired, I need a shower.”

“Okay” I smiled softly.

She walked into the bathroom and shut the door. After I couple of seconds I went after her. I walked into the bathroom and wrapped my arms around her waist, “let me join you” I whispered into her ear, she shoved me off her.

“No Leah, I’m tired just leave me alone, please.” I wrapped my arms around myself instantly feeling insecure and walked out, shutting the door behind me.

I sat on the bed contemplating what the fuck has happened. Horrible thoughts ran through my head. Especially once I saw y/n’s phone sat on the bedside table. “No Leah stop it” “she wouldn’t do that” “don’t do it”, but she was gone for hours, she won’t let me touch her, I mean what am I supposed to think, maybe I’m no longer good enough for her. I know I’ve been tough through my injury and I haven’t been able to provide as much intimacy as usual, maybe she needed to look elsewhere for it. I regretfully reached for her phone, “fuck what am I doing”, I slowly typed the password and unlocked it, I began to scroll through iMessage, when I didn’t find anything I decided to go to Instagram. The feed and notifications were flooded. I squinted confused. I tapped on the heart in the top right corner to look at notifications, “oh y/n”…

————————————————————————

Y/n’s pov:

I sat on the shower floor, unable to tell what was tears and what was water, I quietly sobbed, “fuck”, after reading almost every comment and message I felt like the most worthless person to ever live. I began to question every moment of Leah and I’s relationship, did she feel forced when I came onto her that night at the bar? Does she want any of this? I mean I’m just me, y/n, she could have anyone she ever wanted, she’s the most beautiful, extraordinary, person to ever walk the earth, why the fuck is she with me? She’s wasting her time by being with me, she deserves better than what I could ever give her, I need to en- “darling open the door”. My rambling thoughts are stopped by Leah knocking on the door, as soon as I hear her voice my heart stops. “Baby I saw everything, please, I want to talk about this, y/n please just open the door.”

I begin to sob again, all I do is cause problems, she doesn’t deserve any of this. “I’ll meet you downstairs let me get dry and dressed” I say through the door.

“Alright. And y/n?”

“Yeah” I call back

“I love you, okay?”

I sniffle, “I’ll see you in a sec”

——————————————————————————

As I walk downstairs my hands begin to shake. I lock eyes with Leah, she sits on the couch, and smiles at me, she pats the spot next to her. I slowly walk towards her and sit on the opposite side of the couch. She frowns at me and slides closer.

“Darling” Leah grabs my hand softly and rubs her thumb along the back of my hand.

I look down and tears begin to well in my eyes.

“Hey hey” she cups my cheeks and wipes away the tears that began to fall.

“I’m sorry” I whisper

“Baby girl, listen to me” she forced my eyes to lock with hers “don’t you dare apologise, none of this is your fault. You need to know how much I fucking love you okay. From the moment I saw you, the moment you looked at me with that cheeky smile and beautiful eyes, my heart was yours, I don’t give a shit what you do for a living, I don’t give a shit what user1234 fucking 5 has to say about us. What I care about is you darling. I care about your happiness. I care about how your day goes. I care about every little thing you ramble about, your favourite chocolate, how to make you feel good, your little comments and opinions on tv shows we watch. I care about everything you say and do, and I need you to understand that I’m telling you the truth here. I love you, every little bit of you and I want everyone to know that. Okay? I’m yours, my heart is forever yours.”

My face turns into her palm and I sob, she quickly wraps her arms around me as I cry and cry and cry.

“I love you” I sniffle into her shoulder.

“Hmmm what was that?” Leah cockily asks

I turn my face to be front on with her, I Leah in to kiss her “I” *kiss* “love” *kiss* “you” *kiss* “so” *kiss* “fucking” *kiss* “much” *kiss*

She giggles hugs me tightly.

“I love you more my girl” she whispers

——————————————————————————

@leahwilliamsonn/@y/n.y/ln

My girl makes the best drinks😽

——————————————————————————

A/n: WOW OKAY. First story ever written, I hope I did okay, please be nice, I would love for any feedback or more requests, feel free to message me, comment or put in my asks, hopefully this was okay! Thank you for requesting🫶🫶🫶

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #wlw #woso community #woso x reader #woso #woso fanfics #woso one shot #lionesses #awfc x reader #awfc

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stevenose · 1 day ago

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for anonymous - thank you for voting!!! hope you like this hehe <3

contains: love drunk!steve; gender unspecified reader; flirting; s4!steve

He’s practically drooling. If he were someone else, he would call himself pathetic - even if he knows he is. Steve licks his lips, watching you reach high for a tape, your shirt riding up a little.

“Are you serious?”

He can’t hear Robin, or maybe he just doesn’t want to. Loves her, but pretty boy duty calls.

“Steve!”

“Huh?” he finally asks, turning to face her.

“Have you even heard a single thing I’ve said in the last —“ She checks her watch. “Three minutes?”

“You were talking for three minutes?” he asks, startled.

“Oh my God, Steve.” She’s pissed. And he feels bad, but he knows she’ll be fine in five minutes, and probably even better if he fucks up while checking you out at the counter. “You’re such a bonehead.”

He rolls his eyes and looks back at you. You’re looking at him, all amused. He feels so deeply seen, like you shouldn’t even be looking at him, like he doesn’t really deserve the attention.

“Sorry,” you say. Your voice sounds so sweet. “I just haven’t heard someone say ‘bonehead’ in a while.”

“He is,” Robin says flatly.

You smile at him and his knees feel weak. “I’m sure.”

You continue browsing. Robin looks at Steve. “You are a bonehead,” she affirms, grabbing a cart of tapes to put them away.

Steve feels all dizzy. He’s seen hot people in the store, but this is different. You’re straight out of a dream. He doesn’t know how he hasn’t seen you before. You’re about his age, but he doesn’t remember you from high school. Not that three concussions haven’t ruined his memory.

He perks up when you come to check out. Steve has no small talk in his mind for your selections. His brain feels frozen and it reminds him of his time at Scoops a year earlier.

“Do I know you?” he asks. It comes out awkwardly.

“I don’t think so,” you say. “I’m just - I’m here visiting some family, and I have to babysit.” You point at the two animated movies you’d chosen. “So, no, I don’t think so.”

“Babysit?” he says. “I babysit, too.”

You nod. “Okay.”

“Yeah,” he says. Now he’s spitballing. “They’re little shits though. Always dragging me into things I don’t want dragged into. But they’re sweet, I guess. Except one of them.”

You nod politely.

He wants to hang himself with film strips.

“Well, if I need help, I’ll definitely call you.”

Finally, an opening. “You’d need my number to do that, huh?”

Now you’re frazzled. Thank God. “I guess so.”

“How long are you in town for?”

You bite your cheek. “Another week.”

Steve hums. “I say we take our kids, drop ‘em off at the arcade, and head to the movies ourselves.”

You laugh, looking at him like he’s crazy. Your eyes are soft, though, and your smile is genuine. “Seems irresponsible.”

“Self indulgent, maybe.”

You stare at him for a moment longer before realizing you need to pay. You mumble and search your bag for your wallet, sliding a five across the counter. “Sorry,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m a little frazzled.”

“I have that effect on people.” Oh, he’s so back. He grabs your change, slipping it back to you.

“Want your receipt?”

You read between the lines. “Sure.”

He grins and snatches the paper from the register, scrawling his number across the top. He writes his name before realizing he never said it out loud. “Oh! I’m Steve, by the way.”

You give him yours and take the receipt from him. “Nice to meet you.”

He nods, waves as you leave, heart thumping. He collapses against the counter once you’re out of sight, head in his hands.

“A week,” Robin says, startling him. “You gonna have a whirlwind romance or something?”

“Maybe,” he says.

She scoffs. “You’ve been watching too many movies.”

#category: blurbs #the one he doesn’t like is mike btw. i know they beef

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lovexdeepspace · 8 months ago

Note

Hi ! I hope you’re having a great day! I’ve read that you are open to new ideas regarding LDS and so I thought maybe you’re able to do one where the LDS boys comfort MC when something triggering happen to them? I’m looking forward to reading your posts 💞

“i’ll always be here.”

summary; rafayel, xavier, and zayne are your island in the storm.

warnings; triggering topics (stalking / near-death experiences / [canon] death), sadness

note; thank you anon for requesting & i hope you’re having a day as lovely as you are!! 💕🫶 (will be formatting when i can, just away from my laptop for some time and i wanted to post !!)

rafayel

had your occupation as a hunter not made you to be more aware of your surroundings, you would have never caught onto the man who had been tailing you.

you stopped giving him the benefit of the doubt when he turned the corner of the dark alley many knew to be populated with the homeless and subsequently avoided. as soon as the man thought he had you cornered he picked up speed and that’s when you turned on him, pistol in hand.

“h-hey, let’s put that away,” he stammered, raising his hands up as he skidded to a stop. you didn’t budge, trying your damndest to keep your hands steady.

“turn around,” you hissed, “and walk away.”

the man didn’t waste a second, taking a few steps back before turning on his heel and making a run for it. once he turned the corner you let out a sigh of relief, shaky hands placing the pistol back into the holster at your hip. you headed back onto the main path with a clouded mind, your heartbeat ringing in your ears. without a second thought you followed the sidewalk towards the large white building that overlooked the beach, your steps hurried.

you pushed the gate open and practically ran up the paved path towards the large front doors of rafayel’s studio, grateful to find that he had accidentally left them unlocked once again. as soon as you stepped inside you pulled the doors shut once more, the lingering feeling of being followed making your skin crawl. after locking the doors you kicked off your shoes and shuffled into the main room, finding rafayel sitting on the floor with a canvas propped up in front of him.

he turned at the sound of your approaching footsteps, looking up at you with a raised brow. you clenched and unclenched your fists as you tried to think of something — anything — to say but all that came out was a choked sob. panicked, rafayel pushed himself to his feet and grabbed your shoulders then your face, looking for any injuries.

“what happened?” he asked, checking your arms and torso. “take a breath, i can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”

you swallowed harshly, tears rolling down your cheeks. “a man,” you choked out, “was following me. had to threaten him for him to leave.”

rafayel’s face contorted with some combination of disgust and anger but softened as you sniffled. he held his arms out and you collapsed into his embrace, a feeling of security crashing over you as he held you tight.

“i’ve got you,” he murmured, resting his chin atop your head. “you’re safe here.”

xavier

it wasn’t supposed to be like this.

this mission was supposed to be easier yet, here you were, fighting a god damn elysian cervus. your fill-in partner was unconscious somewhere, leaving you to fight this beast on your lonesome. your shirt was soaked with blood from a gash on your torso and you were pretty sure some ribs were broken but you pressed on until delivering the final blow.

the wanderer fell, motionless on the ground. slowly you move and collect the protocore, stashing it away before searching for your partner. you found her slumped against a tree a little ways away, using your watch to call for help as you slowly settled down next to her. as you talked to the operator you pressed two fingers to the side of her neck, relieved to find a pulse.

help came not too long after you had called, carting you and your partner to the hospital for the both of you to be treated. you ended up with three broken ribs, a fractured ankle, and lots of stitches across your abdomen.

“you got very lucky,” a nurse had informed you the following day as she checked your vitals. “whatever had caused that nasty gash just barely missed some of your organs.”

“lucky me,” you muttered, laying back in the hospital bed. “when will i be able to go home?”

the nurse checked some papers on her clipboard. “the doctor wrote here that he’d like to keep you another couple days. just get some rest, sweetheart.”

she left and you sighed, turning your head to look out the window. the silence was peaceful and you admired the city, thinking of how serene it looked from this angle. a small knock at your door had you flinch and you covered your heart with a sigh of relief when you saw xavier standing there.

“how’re you feeling?” he asked, settling in a chair at your side. the bouquet of flowers he had brought were set gently on your bedside table, his eyes never leaving you. the guilt in his stare was unmistakable and you knew it was eating him up inside that he had been unavailable to accompany you on the mission.

“like shit,” you responded with a low chuckle, “but i’ll be okay. doc says i should be able to head home in a couple days but i’ll be off active duty for some time.”

xavier nodded, reaching out and grabbing one of your hands in both of his as he said your name quietly. “you need to rest. you’ve been pushing yourself so hard and haven’t been giving yourself a break like i’ve suggested.”

you tried to interrupt but xavier squeezed your hand and you noticed the slight tremble in his grip and the tears that were forming in his eyes as he continued.

“i could’ve lost you! so, please, think about yourself for once or — allow me to be selfish — think about me. think about how much losing you would impact my life!”

you stared at him as he swallowed harshly, taking one hand away to wipe at his eyes while he mumbled an apology. you reached out and cupped the side of his face, running your thumb over his cheekbone tenderly.

“i’m sorry,” you murmured. “i’ll rest. i never meant to worry you so much, xav.”

he sighed, leaning into your touch. “i came here to comfort you and look at how the tables turned.”

you smiled. “you did more than enough, xavier. as much as i need rest, you need to be comforted and that’s alright.”

zayne

the last couple hours were no better than a blur to you.

one second you’re standing outside your grandmother’s front door, the next you’re on your stomach, surrounded by flames and the house in front of you was no more than rubble. your body ached and you weakly call out for caleb and your grandmother, trying desperately to pull yourself toward the house. your fingers meet something cool and you glance down to find the chain of caleb’s necklace caught on your pinky.

your heart sinks and you pull the necklace close to your body, sobbing caleb’s name as you curl up on the walkway. your eyes shut and you aren’t sure how much time passed because when you open them again you’re in akso hospital, laid on a bed in a dimly lit room.

you look to your hands and feel panic rise in your chest when you don’t see caleb’s necklace. your heart hammered in your chest as your hands scanned the blanket covering your lower half, hoping it was somewhere on the bed.

“i put it on your bedside table.”

zayne, sitting on a couch near the window of your room, stood and moved to stand by your bedside. he picked up caleb’s necklace from your bedside table and he gingerly placed it in your awaiting hands, grief evident in his expression.

“i’m sorry for your loss,” he murmured, his hand lingering near yours as he spoke. he slowly sat on the edge of your bed and finally grabbed your hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. “i’ve taken the next week off to stay with you, if you’d like. you should be able to leave tomorrow morning and whether you want to stay at your place or mine is up to you entirely.”

your eyes stayed glued to your hands, one clutching caleb’s necklace while the other held zayne’s tightly. you wanted to respond or even show a sliver of gratitude but your mind was weighed down by the heavy loss of caleb and your grandmother. the heat and force of the explosion was still so fresh on your skin and all you could do was grieve. sobs shook your whole body and zayne tentatively moved closer, carefully pulling you into his embrace.

“i’m so sorry,” he whispered, chin resting atop your head as one hand cradled the back of your head and the other gently rubbed up and down your back. tears of his own rolled down his cheeks as he continued to whisper comfort to you while you clung to him and cried.

#love and deepspace #rafayel #lads rafayel #rafayel x reader #lads xavier #lads zayne #xavier #xavier x reader #zayne x reader #zayne #rafayel love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #oracleofstars

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empresskylo · 1 year ago

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beneath the mask ✩ chapter 3 ⬅ch. 2

➠𝐌𝐃𝐍𝐈; 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓; 𝐄𝐗𝐏𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ➠SIMON "GHOST" RILEY X AFAB!READER ➠CHAPTER TAGS | afab!reader. kinda mean!ghost. wc 2.5k. ➠AUTHOR'S NOTE | i do not have a tag list.

𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐜𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ✩ 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

the following week involved you being the only medic on base and having to treat every soldier on your own; briefing sessions with soap; a few awkward run-ins with ghost; and a shit load of anxiety.

you couldn’t get over the fact that you were about to walk side by side with the most dangerous men in the world on the most important mission you’ve ever been on. soap was acting like it was no big deal—they do this kind of stuff all the time, he had said. you had to remind soap that you were new to this division and weren’t exactly a skilled killer like the rest of the men. you were used to helping wounded men when they were carted back to base, not being in on the action.

“soap,” you whined as the larger man refused to let you take a break from your current training match. “i wasn’t built for this,” you said dramatically, collapsing on the mats beneath you.

soap chuckled, his hands resting on his hips. “i’m just tryin’ to prepare ya. ghost isn’t gonna go so easy on you.”

“ghost?” you asked, sitting upright–a bit faster than someone who wasn’t constantly thinking about their lieutenant would.

soap stuck a hand out and grabbed yours, heaving you up to stand before him again.

“ghost insisted on makin’ sure we all met his standards.”

you knew this was about you and gaz specifically, even if he didn’t say it. these men were already the best of the best, that's how they got recruited into this task force. but gaz being recently hurt, and you not coming from a combat background, was probably plaguing his thoughts.

“oh, wonderful,” you said sarcastically. you were almost positive soap was oblivious to your weird dynamic with ghost, but you couldn’t be one hundred percent certain; soap’s perceptiveness could surprise you sometimes.

you downed your water and stretched a bit more waiting for your imminent doom.

gaz approached you, his arm outstretched over his head.

“how’s your hand?” you asked him.

gaz released his stretch with a satisfied grunt and then held up his now unbandaged hand, smiling.

“and your ribs?”

“still a bit sore. just glad they’re not broken.”

you smiled. “just don’t go too hard training today, okay?”

gaz mock saluted you. “yes, doctor.” you rolled your eyes.

gaz had pulled you into a sparring match, trying to get your reflexes to actually function properly for when you’d be out in the field with the men.

you growled in frustration as gaz got another killing blow lined up.

“dead. again,” he said with a laugh.

“glad you find my suffering entertaining.”

you felt your body tense and you knew that ghost had just strolled into the training room. you had a weird way of sensing whenever he was around. it was like he made the air thicker of any room he walked in to.

you tried to keep your focus on gaz. he grabbed your hands and helped you adjust your hand wraps that were starting to loosen around your knuckles. your eyes flickered over gaz’s shoulder and you spotted him.

his eyes were already on you and you felt your blood pressure drastically rise. you immediately looked back to gaz and tried to pay attention to what he was saying to you.

“ready to go again?” he asked when he decided your hands were wrapped properly. you nodded.

after what felt like an eternity, ghost appeared beside the two of you, observing as gaz was in the process of showing you a new defense move.

gaz reached around you with his foot, knocking you off balance and sending you colliding with the mat.

“jesus,” you mumbled, both amazed and annoyed with him.

gaz chuckled and reached out a hand to help you up. you were impressed at his composed and collected attitude knowing what was about to happen in a few days' time. you, personally, couldn’t get your heart to stop racing worrying about everything that might go wrong.

you ignored ghost’s eyes on you as gaz tried to demonstrate the move he just did once again.

you attempted everything he showed you, repairing the order of the stances in your head as you executed each one, and you sent him flying on his back.

“shit, nice job,” gaz praised.

you helped him up when a looming presence from behind you startled you.

“oh!” you jumped, looking up at ghost who was only inches from your chest. “hi, lt.”

ghost was wearing one of his thinner balaclavas again, paired with a long-sleeved black shirt–that disappointingly didn’t have its sleeves rolled up to show off his tattoos–and dark tactical pants. he was a new level of intimidating without all his gear on. you felt like your body was going to melt from the heat he was putting off.

“she’s never gonna learn like that,” he grunted out, directly his words at gaz but holding your gaze.

you knew gaz was letting you knock him on his ass, but how else would you understand the basics of the moves he was teaching you? if he blocked you and went on defense every time you went to try, you wouldn’t be able to learn anything. gaz had years of training on you.

gaz mumbled something about taking a break and you began to panic. shit.

“open your legs,” ghost demanded.

a sudden blaze of heat raced up your chest and to your face. your eyes must have turned to moons because ghost’s foot jutted out to kick between your own and widen your stance as if to tell you to get your head out of the gutter.

you adjusted your feet and felt gaz slip off behind the two of you.

just you and ghost now. great.

“your waist feeling okay?” you asked, pointing towards the area of his wound from the week prior.

he nodded. “good as new.”

“good. that’s good,” you said awkwardly.

you both looked at one another, your cheeks warming, before ghost cut you out of your daydream. “arms should always be at the ready.”

you lifted your own and did as he said, mirroring him, and taking on a solid but readying posture.

“now, try to hook your leg behind my own.”

you nodded, the heat from earlier subsided just to be replaced with the rushing sound of your heart beating in your ear. you prayed ghost didn’t have super hearing, but you wouldn’t put it past him.

you dipped down slightly and tried to get your leg to wrap behind ghost’s, aiming to knock him backward.

before your foot even made it where you wanted it to go, ghost had spun you around and sent you stumbling back.

“again,” he demanded.

you took in a breath before approaching back up to him and going at it again.

he blocked your attack and you tripped over his feet and fell to the mat.

“again.”

you felt the sweat bead on your forehead, out of both anger and exertion.

and again he knocked you back.

“this isn’t going to help!” you finally said, a scowl on your face.

“don’t like bein’ pushed? think any of those men out there will give a damn about that? think they’ll give a shit that you’re just a medic?”

you let out an irritated breath. “i just don’t think training me like this will get me anywhere.”

“oh, and how would you like t’be trained then?”

you stared at him in silence.

“should i let you tackle me to t’ground?” his voice was deeper than earlier, sending shivers up your spine. “is catering to your ego that important you’d risk your life?”

“this has nothing to do with my ego.” your voice felt faint as you struggled to come up with an argument. you were frustrated, sure. but he was right in a way. any bad guy you cross out in the field isn’t going to give a shit that you’re a medic and not a trained soldier. and you did not want to fucking die.

“no? then go again.”

you brushed off your pants and readied your stance, going at him again. in an agile ebbed movement, you went flying to the ground. again.

you propped yourself up on your elbows and glared at him. frustrated beyond belief, and exhausted from already training for hours today. you did something you wouldn’t have normally done if you weren’t so peeved off. you sprung to your feet and rushed into him. ghost caught your hand but you spun around behind him, making him grunt as your foot collided with the back of his knee.

he bent forward and you jumped onto his back. he had to release your hand in fear of choking himself out. ghost was so caught off guard that he sank to his knees. you caught your breath, still clinging to him. you may not have got him to go all the way down, but still, you managed something.

“now if you’ll–” ghost cut your words short, shifting his weight so you slid sideways and he grabbed your waist and sent you sprawling out before him. before your back hit the mat, you grabbed his shirt, yanking him downward with you. his hands caught himself on either side of your head, his hips between your legs, his torso almost touching yours as you breathed heavily.

ghost’s eyes bore into yours as he loomed over you. heat rushed to your face as you felt his hips pressing against your own, trapping you below his impressive weight. your hands were still tied up in his shirt, your heart racing out of your chest.

“that hurt,” you mumbled.

“it was supposed to.” his voice was far softer than you’ve ever heard it before as if you stole the breath right from his chest. goosebumps immediately covered your arms and you hoped to the gods that he didn’t notice.

you were at a loss for words as he held his position. “now how will you get out of this, pet?” he provoked.

devoid of logic, you bucked your hips up against him, trying to wrangle your way free. ghost essentially growled above you, sending fluttering vibrations through your chest. you tried to roll out from under him, and if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he let you. your positions quickly changed as you used all your muscles to turn him on his back. you straddled him, heaving again at the amount of force you had to exert to move his body.

your hands were resting on his chest and you felt your entire body go hot. there was no way you were straddling ghost, sitting right above his belt, your hands pressed flat against him, and his hands… his hands loose on your hips, edging towards your thighs.

in pure embarrassment you quickly stumbled off of him, not even offering to give him a hand to stand back up.

you thought for sure he would call it a day, probably irritated at you getting so close. those were definitely not proper techniques you executed back there.

to your surprise, ghost grunted, stood, and mumbled, “again.”

you couldn’t help the displeased groan that left your lips. “ghost, please. i’ve been doing this all morning.”

he didn’t like the way his chest tightened momentarily at the sound of you begging him.

he could see the exhaustion on your face. in a sort of compromise, he wanted one more spar. he slid the knife from his holster on his thigh and caught it expertly in his fingers. “unarm me,” he demanded.

you looked at him with hesitation. “if ya unarm me, y’can be done for the day. i won't even fight back.”

something painful echoed in your chest. you just wanted to get away from him. why was he dragging out your time together? he didn’t even like you. he should just tell price they couldn’t risk taking you along on the mission.

you mentally groaned and slowly stepped closer. ghost readied his stance.

you darted to the left and he deftly blocked you.

then you ducked down, coming up on the side he held the weapon and his arm stopped yours. you grunted before slipping around him and shoving him back. he stumbled a few steps and you dodged his arms.

ghost spun to meet you, grabbing your wrist with his free hand, both of you stumbling so your back collided with the wall.

with heavy breaths, ghost pinned your arm beside your head. your other hand struggled, but you managed to grip his knife and fling it out of his hand, sending it rattling on the hard floor away from you two.

ghost’s hips were almost against yours, his body trapping you against the wall. your head clouded with so many unwanted thoughts about his chest pressed against your own. the way his body traced yours like a phantom.

“next time, try to hold on to the weapon you disarm. because now, you’re defenseless. and hate to break it to ya, but you against any man of my size, unarmed… you’re dead.”

your mouth hung open slightly as you caught your breath. you could feel ghost’s ungloved hands lingering by your waist. you nodded, unable to speak as you felt his fingers fluttering against your skin where your shirt began to ride up. it was almost like he was purposefully trying to touch you.

your eyes flickered down to where his hands were and ghost immediately backed away. he gave you one look over and went to pick up his knife.

“enough for today,” he grumbled, a tensing sense of aggravation filling the air.

you straightened your clothes out, walking back onto the mat. “so that’s it?”

ghost turned in a way that made it look like he was forcing his body to move. “need me t’tell you how good of a job you did? pat you on your back and tell ya you’re gonna be fine next week?”

you glared at him. “no. i just–”

“you won’t. you’re gonna get yourself killed out there.” you sucked in a sharp breath at his words. you watched as his eyes avoided your own. “be back here tomorrow to train more with soap.”

you nodded even though he wasn’t looking at you. he hesitated another moment, almost like he was debating on saying something else, but then he turned and left you alone.

you sank down onto the mat, sprawling out backward and breathing deeply. your body was sore and throbbing from all the collisions you took today.

fuck. you had one chance to prove to ghost you were capable. that price trusting you to come along was the right choice. but you just made a fool of yourself. and ghost thought you nothing more than a weak link in their unit. you were going to get them all killed.

you closed your eyes, a tear sliding down your sweat-stained cheeks.

chapter 4 ➡

#ghost #simon riley #smut #ghost cod #ghost x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost smut #simon riley smut #cod #ghost fanfic #simon riley fanfic #ghost call of duty #ghost angst #cod mw2 #cod fic #call of duty fanfic #mw2 fanfic #beneath the mask

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wild-typo-turtle · 1 month ago

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Threads - Part 4

Explicit (slow burn, 18+ only) - Rings of Power - Gil-galad x OFC (Elf)

Includes S2E8 of Rings of Power - spoilers ahoy!

Gil-galad had only taken a handful of steps when his gaze passed over yet another collapsed building. From the looks of things, it had once been an open, airy shop that had faced directly into the plaza. The roof had caved in, creating dusty shadows, and even his keen eyes might have missed the slumped figure had he not heard the tiny whimper from the darkness.

Eregion has been destroyed; Sauron is gone. And yet, the sun still shines, as the ruined city holds the last thing that High King Gil-galad had ever expected to find.

Themes: #Idiots in love, #love at first sight, #soulmates, #smut with feelings, #fix-it, #everybody lives

Content Warnings: Explicit content eventually (slow burn), canon-typical violence

Tag List: @morganas-pendragons, @stellar-solar-flare

Dreamcasting: Keri Russell as Linnea

Part 1 (includes A/N and credits)

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

It was late afternoon before they reached Lindon, and the trees shone brightly enough with the setting sun to take Linnea’s breath away.

The city’s beauty was enough all on its own. The approach was over a bridge, spanning the waterfalls that fed into the gulf of Lhûn, and if she craned her neck, she could see the great golden Tree reaching out over the water. White towers rose over the leafy canopies of the forest; Lindon had been built around it, for no Elf would fell a tree for so pitiful a reason as wanting to put something else in its place. Instead, the city was woven through the glades and natural clearings.

She could see the palace, too. Or at least what she assumed was the palace: the tallest and largest of the buildings, rising high.

Her new home.

“Have you never seen it before, my lady?”

The soldier driving the wagon that day was named Landir, and he had been the friendliest of the group to her. She wondered if he might be angling for a place as her permanent guard; she would not object if that were the case, given his amicable disposition. It would certainly be more prestigious for him than being a common soldier, and probably easier too.

“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “My parents would come here to trade our weavings, sometimes. But I never joined them.”

They rolled through the main gate, Arondir in the lead on his horse, and then the other two mounted soldiers behind the wagon. As they passed, Linnea watched the guards on the ground carefully, wondering whether the news had spread - but there were no searching eyes, no one looking curiously for the lady that had captured their king’s heart. They might have been a small company of merchants, or something equally as anonymous.

Perhaps she would have a few days’ respite. Time to settle in. But they would all know soon enough, and part of her wanted to hasten that along; she wanted to stand on the cart and shout it out across the entire city.

I love him. I am his, and he is mine.

But she stayed seated, and settled for smiling to herself. Her attention was caught, however, as the hoofbeats behind them suddenly increased, and a moment later, one of the soldiers from the rear guard passed them at a gallop.

Linnea looked over at Landir, raising a brow, and he offered her a smile. “We have instructions to take you directly to the palace, my lady. Hellathas rides ahead to inform them that we have arrived.”

Of course they did. She had assumed so, more or less, but had not put exact thoughts to the vague notions. And she certainly didn’t know her own way around, at least not yet.

And Gil-galad would want to know that they had made it to Lindon safely.

Her hands trembled, and she clasped them together in her lap to hide it.

The ride to the palace was pleasant and easy - and what was more, it gave Linnea a chance to observe the citizens of Lindon going about their daily business. It was very clear that she'd need to do something about her clothes, sooner rather than later; she had found a few of her dresses, undamaged and still serviceable, but they were good sturdy wool and linen. Artisan’s clothes, in muted and simple colors, like those that most of the inhabitants of Eregion wore. The fabrics had been woven by her own hands; fine enough, certainly, but not the silks and satins and velvets that surrounded her now. And jewels everywhere.

Yes, she would need to do something. Thankfully, one of the chests in the wagon contained almost all of the weavings from the shop that had been finished; the heavy, strong ironwood had protected the stored fabrics, and they had all survived intact. She would have plenty to trade for a new wardrobe, or at least the start of one.

While she had been musing, the road they traveled had begun to ascend, gradually climbing as it wound its way through the forests. It was surprisingly narrow for a route to the palace, and she wondered if Arondir was taking them some sort of back way. If so, she was grateful; buying some more time to settle in before she had to face the entire court didn’t sound like a bad thing at all. She made a mental note to thank him if that had been his intent.

And then it became very, very difficult to think anything at all.

The path had taken them up a gently sloping hill, and as they reached the top, she found herself in a charming courtyard. It looked private, and as she’d wondered, it seemed to be somewhere in the back of the palace - she could see the bulk of the building off to the west and the north, as well as the high towers reaching above the trees. The section in front of her was comprised of several arched windows with small open balconies, and there was a set of stone stairs leading up to a pair of double doors with their own wide terrace.

Which was occupied by Gil-galad.

It felt, simultaneously, like her heart had stopped and like it was about to beat its way free of her chest, as Landir drew the wagon to a halt. The last time she’d seen him, he had been in armor, the warrior King, still beautiful but grim with purpose. But now he was dressed in all his finery: a wide-sleeved gold robe that fell to the ground and then some, a lapped gold girdle around his waist that was accented with jeweled stars, and a gold shirt beneath the robe, the fabric traced with a delicate pattern of leaves. And of course, his crown, shining atop his dark hair.

She really needed to do something about her clothes.

But the moment that his eyes found hers, and he smiled, none of that mattered in the slightest.

He didn’t run. He walked at a slow, measured pace, descending the stairs with every ounce of the dignity of the High King of the Noldor. His robe trailed down the steps behind him, and his two guards followed him only a few feet back. She felt frozen on the wagon seat, her eyes fixed on him, watching as he crossed the courtyard. By some unspoken signal, the guards halted well before he did, allowing him to take the last steps alone.

Gil-galad stopped by the wagon, raising his eyes to her. Dark brown, liquid pools, and in them, she saw every word he had put to paper, and several more. Words that she’d never thought to hear from anyone, much less someone like him. But there they were, writ plain as day.

He lifted a hand, palm up, offering it to her.

In a daze, she stood and took it, gathering her skirts and letting him support her as she stepped down. And once she was on the ground, he did not let go, but reached for her other hand as well, bringing them to his lips and kissing first one and then the other.

“Maedol ni mâr dhín, melethel.”

Welcome home, beloved.

She couldn’t stop staring at him.

The sight of him was as intoxicating as the finest wines, and she doubted her eyes would ever drink their fill. They certainly hadn’t yet, as he led her into the palace with her hand tucked gently in the crook of his elbow - all she could do was stare at him, barely aware of the bridgeways and corridors that they walked through.

He noticed, and a corner of his mouth quirked up as he leaned in to whisper to her. “What draws your eye, my lady?”

Linnea laughed softly, caught out. Part of her felt too shy to speak, but the rest - if his thoughts had been even half as unsettled as her own, confronted with so much change, he deserved to hear any reassurance she could give.

“You,” she whispered back. “Just you.”

His smile widened, and his arm flexed, tightening around her hand.

She hadn’t wanted to ask where they were going; Gil-galad obviously had a destination in mind, and she would deprive him of no joy in beginning to show her around. But it seemed that the walk was ending; they had reached a tower and had climbed many stairs, and at last had stopped at a door - and a nod from Gil-galad had the guards taking up positions along the landing outside.

And so, when he pushed open the door, they stepped in alone. Entirely, gloriously, alone.

The rooms they entered were lovely and open. Even in the faint light of dusk, it was easy to see that they would be wonderfully bright when the sun came up. As high as they were, the trees were higher; Linnea could see branches right outside the arched windows, glowing golden in the setting sun. The space was circular, and at a guess, it took up at least half of the level of the tower, with windows around the entire edge.

It was divided into several different areas. The door had opened into a sitting room, and beyond, she could see a sleeping alcove. Everything was beautiful; the rooms were furnished elegantly, the pieces few but exquisite.

At some point, she had released Gil-galad’s arm, and her steps had carried her several feet into the room almost without her knowing. She stopped at the fireplace, turning back to Gil-galad where he had remained next to the door, feeling her lips parted in an expression of surprise and wonder.

He smiled, guessing her question.

“There were no queen’s chambers,” he murmurs. “But these rooms are directly beneath my own. I had them prepared for you.”

She noticed then, as she faced him, the discreet staircase tucked into a corner of the sitting room. A staircase that, from what he had just said, would take her up to his rooms without the need to exit her own. She could go to him - or he could come to her - as they pleased, without the need for guards to move and all of the production that went along with it. A precious sliver of privacy, in what was about to become a very public existence.

“If anything is not to your liking,” he added, “you have only to say the word.”

Her throat felt tight and hot. Her eyes, too. She felt too full, like her skin might split open in a failure to contain everything it was struggling to hold in.

Linnea swallowed hard.

She retraced her steps, walking slowly back toward him. His eyes locked on her face, searching for a sign of approval, but she didn’t say a word until she was standing right in front of him.

“You think far too highly of me,” she choked out, “if you think I can speak now.”

He let out a breath, and she could hear the relief in it. She could only imagine how it had been for him over the last days, making sure she would have a home here, ensuring her comfort, all the while trying to wrap his head around the fact that she existed. That he had found her every bit as much as she had found him.

More words were not possible. But she could offer something else, something that she’d been longing for ever since they’d parted.

She reached up, taking his face in her hands, and pulled his head down to hers.

When they finally climbed the staircase, Linnea discovered that Gil-galad’s rooms were shaped much like hers. He too had a sitting room, although much larger, and also a small private dining room. There was a study, with an angled writing desk and shelves full of scrolls and books, and his sleeping alcove held a large, wide bed.

Big enough for two.

Her cheeks tingled, imagining that part of marriage. Not just being intimate, but the simple act of sharing a bed - Ereinion’s tall body next to hers, warm and strong. Would she fall asleep in his arms; would he hold her through the hours of the night?

There was so much to discover.

But in the meantime, a delicious aroma was tickling her nose, and it was coming from that cozy dining room.

Gil-galad had moved over to the fireplace, standing out of the way and watching her take all of it in. He looked apprehensive again, and she wondered how many others had ever seen his private rooms. True, the sitting area and the dining room were fitted out so that he could entertain if he wished, but perhaps he deliberately avoided doing so. Perhaps this was his sanctuary, and he only allowed a chosen few through its doors.

Now it would be theirs.

Linnea turned to him, offering him a gentle smile. “Something smells wonderful.”

“I thought you might be hungry,” he murmured. “And the idea of sharing a quiet meal and hearing about your travels was…very pleasing.”

Indeed it was.

She moved into the dining room then, seeing a sideboard laid with covered platters, and the table set for two. All without her having to lift a finger. And the food was just as beautiful as everything else; she filled her plate with delicate white fish that swam in a silky, buttery sauce, along with sliced vegetables and a heap of fresh salad. There was wine, too - a red that burst forth with fruit the moment she filled her glass.

This, perhaps more than anything, felt like coming home.

The way that Gil-galad settled down next to her with his own food felt like the most natural thing in the world. As if they’d done the same many times before, and this was just one more dinner in a string of them. No different than the night before, or the night that would come, or the next hundred years.

Before she took her first bite, she reached over, taking his hand and squeezing it. The touch made him smile, and he brought the hand to his lips, brushing a kiss across the back.

“Tell me of the journey,” he said softly, as he released her hand. “How did you find the roads?”

Linnea raised a brow at him as she picked up her fork. “Commander Arondir did not keep you informed?”

“He did indeed,” Gil-galad allowed. “But I thought to hear my lady’s opinions as well.”

Her cheeks heated, and she couldn’t keep a smile from curling her lips. “Then far be it from me to deny you,” she murmured. “The roads were in good order, and we were untroubled by orcs, for the most part. There was an encounter on the fifth day, but as they were only two, they were dispatched easily.”

He nodded; she wasn’t telling him anything he hadn’t learned from Arondir’s reports, that much was clear. “Now that Eregion is destroyed, we must consider how to maintain a watch over the eastern reaches,” he said, taking a bite from his plate. “Once Imladris is built, it will serve, but it may be wise to re-garrison the watchtowers at the Mitheithel Fords and the Baranduin in the meantime. Were the enemy to approach Lindon, that is the likeliest route. Unless you would suggest another, my lady.”

She stared at him for a moment, fork loose in her hand. “I - my lord, I am a weaver. I am no soldier, no commander.”

“Yet the eastern lands were your home,” he said gently. “You know them well. I welcome your input - in all things, lady. You have a seat on the council, if that is your wish.”

Linnea took a deep breath, reaching for her wine glass to buy herself a moment. She understood the honor he was giving her, but it was one more thing that was so different than the life she had known. Sitting on the council, her voice could determine great matters, could cost - or save - lives.

It was a far cry from waking in the morning and deciding which loom she would sit at that day, which fabric she would make progress on.

But she was going to be queen. And the council would be a good place to begin to learn about those great matters. She had a responsibility to their subjects; they deserved a queen that was wise and well-informed.

“I - I think I would like that,” she murmured. “If it would not offend the other Elf lords.”

“If they are offended by the presence of their queen, they may choose to be elsewhere,” he said dryly.

She chuckled softly, raising a brow at him again. “My lord, that title is not mine to claim yet,” she reminded him.

He quirked an eyebrow at her, in seeming recognition of her point. And his hand briefly brushed his chest, just at the place where his robe overlapped - as if touching something beneath it.

“But it is mine to bestow,” he murmured. “If you are finished, there is something I would like to show you, melethel.”

Linnea looked down, and was surprised to find her plate empty. She looked back up, and nodded, and Gil-galad rose, extending a hand.

“Come.”

Not even her ears could hear what he said to the guards. But as they reached their destination, the soldiers stayed at the top of the path, remaining well distant from the great Tree.

She had never seen it before - only that one glimpse at a distance, as they had arrived. Up close it was infinitely more beautiful, the moon shining through the golden leaves and glimmering off Gil-galad’s golden robes.

He took her up onto the dais, right next to the Tree. The waterfall thundered next to them, making its way down to the gulf of Lhûn, and she was wide-eyed like a child at the sight. The symbol for Elvendom on earth - the very picture of their strength, their vitality.

“It's beautiful,” she murmured. “May I - ?”

He nodded, and she laid her palm against the thick trunk. Whispers, faint and distant, but nothing she could make out. But there was definitely a presence to the tree, unlike anything she’d ever felt.

She dropped her hand, turning back to face Gil-galad, and smiled. “Thank you for bringing me here,” she said softly. “I had always hoped to see the Tree - but whenever my parents came to Lindon, there were always things to occupy me in Eregion. It seemed so easy to think each time that next time I would come.”

“I often thought the same of Eregion,” he answered, equally softly. He had taken his crown off before they had left his rooms, and his dark hair shone with the moonlight and the starlight. “Lord Celebrimbor encouraged me to visit. Yet he seemed to always have matters in hand.” He sighed. “Would that I had heeded his words. For many reasons. Not the least of which, that I might have met you sooner.”

Linnea reached down, gently taking his hands. “You visited once,” she murmured. “I saw you across the plaza. It was many years ago, and you were surrounded by your lords and soldiers. But I did see you, just a glimpse.”

Gil-galad nodded, giving her a small smile. “I recall it. I was occupied with matters of trade. Had I been paying more attention to my surroundings, perhaps I might have seen your shop.” His smile turned slightly teasing. “Perhaps I might have stopped to admire your work, and lost my heart in the process.”

“I would have made you a gift in its place,” she teased back. “A blanket for your bed, or a new cloak.”

There were more words, hanging heavy on her tongue - but there was no reason to be shy, not at this stage. Not with all that had already been spoken between them; not when intents and futures had already been made clear.

“Along with my own heart,” she said softly. “A gift in kind. Which you have, meleth nín.”

He breathed out, tugging on her hands to pull her closer. She went gladly, feeling him let go of her hands and slide his arms around her waist, and then his forehead came down to press against hers - much the same way as he had held her the first time in the survivors’ camp, standing next to her little fire. A moment so pure and perfect, so fated, that it still brought tears to her eyes to think about it.

“I will do my utmost to be worthy of it,” he whispered. “And so let me make a gift to you now.”

He stepped back from her, and his hand went back to that same place on his robes, but this time it slipped underneath the edge. And when he brought it back out, he was holding a small, pure white velvet pouch. It seemed to glow with a light of its own, shining beneath the stars, nearly sparkling as he opened it and tipped the contents into his palm.

A ring. A silver ring.

Wordlessly, he extended it to her for her to see.

Hands shaking, she took it. The center stone was a pearl, with strands of silver wrapping around it almost like a wave, cradling the pearl in their grasp. But there were also tiny diamonds, what had to be dozens of them - and the fashion of their setting changed the pearl, transformed it into the heart of a star, with the diamonds forming rays of starlight.

It was one of the most beautiful things she had ever seen.

Ereinion’s hands closed gently over hers where they held the ring.

“I did not ask you properly before,” he murmured. “So allow me to ask now. Will you wed me, Linnea, daughter of Taucion and Lhénes? Will you have me as your husband, will you be my wife and my queen until Arda itself is remade?”

Out of everything he had just said, the thing that stunned her most was that he knew the names of her parents. She had no idea how - perhaps he had had the rest of the survivors questioned until he found someone who had known them - but he did, and it made the tears finally spill over and drip down her cheeks.

She knew that he knew her answer. But the fact that he would still ask, had taken the trouble to choose a ring for her - he deserved no less than to hear it.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes. I will.”

Now his hands were trembling, as he took the ring with one and clasped hers with the other. She opened her hand to help, and he slid the shining star onto her finger.

It fit perfectly, snugging down at the base of her hand, fashioned for just that spot and no other.

She didn’t have anything for him - and although she knew he would never expect it, she was not about to deny him any of the traditions. Not when he’d been waiting so much longer, when he must have thought it would never happen for him. It was uncommon at best for someone of her age to wed, much less him. No, he would have a ring; she would see to that as soon as possible.

But he did not seem to be thinking about anything of the sort at that moment; he brought her newly-adorned hand to his lips and kissed it, his mouth lingering in a way that made her toes curl.

It struck her then, as he lifted his head, why he’d taken the crown off. With the crown, he was the High King - and he still was without it, of course, but it wasn’t quite so there. It was easier to think of him as just Ereinion without it, and that was who he’d wanted to be as he asked.

He drew the hand he’d just kissed to his chest, holding it close against his heart. “I am yours to command in this, my lady,” he murmured. “And you need not answer now, but give thought as to your will. We need not wait a year if you do not desire it.”

Her eyes were still brimming, but she had to laugh at his easy discarding of the customary period between betrothal and wedding, even through the tears. “My lord is an eager bridegroom, I see.”

“Were you to ask, I would speak the blessings here upon this very spot, and you would be my wife by tomorrow’s sunrise,” he said softly - and yet, his voice was iron, leaving her no doubt as to his sincerity. “But we need not rush, melethel. We have time to become better acquainted, you and I.”

Part of her - that part that had felt her toes curling at the light brush of his mouth on her hand, that had eagerly returned each of his kisses - was sorely tempted. She could be in his bed, in his arms, in a matter of minutes. They could feed that fire together with the intimacy of marriage; she could know his touch on her, she could touch him.

But the last two weeks had been a great change. As he said, they did not need to rush. And perhaps it was good to remember that they barely knew one another yet. The cup of love was there and brimming full already, but all the rest - all that they had yet to discover about one another, their pasts and their likes and dislikes and routines - would take time.

“It is true,” she answered. “But…I do not think it a task that will last a year. Especially not when we have the rest of our days to do so.”

That pleased him; he smiled. “I am sure you wish to settle in to Lindon first. If there is anything you need, you have only to ask.”

“Tomorrow I must seek out a clothier,” she said. “I was able to save a few of my own clothes, but it is clear that Lindon is very different than Eregion. But I was also able to save many of our finished works; they should be enough for trade. Is there someone that the ladies of the court often use, that I should visit? Or someone I might ask about it?”

He was looking at her with a strange expression, and it took her a moment to identify it - he was confused. He took her hands in his again, gently, making sure he met her eyes.

“Linnea, you need not concern yourself with such things,” he said slowly. “Whatever you may require, all you need do is summon the artisans of your choice. They will come to you - you are their future queen.”

Oh.

That did make sense as to why he was confused. It had probably been an age since he had gone browsing about a marketplace - her ring had likely been obtained just as he had said, a smith summoned to court and commissioned to the task.

But that felt too different from her old life for it to feel like her. And it gave her the first hint of how she might blend old and new - neither one nor the other, but both, like an alloy of precious metals that was more than its individual parts.

“Meleth nín,” she said softly, “I do not think that is the queen I wish to be. I - I know I have barely begun to consider it, but I would like the city to know me. I wish to be a part of the life here, not to sit above it. At least, when that is possible. And so I must go out and be seen.”

He had listened, and the confusion had gradually faded from his face - and, she was relieved to see, it had been replaced with faint pride. Nothing could break their bond, she knew that, but that bond did not mean they would always be in accord. Marriage would mean compromises across the centuries; there would be things where they would not see eye-to-eye.

But thankfully, this did not appear to be one of them.

“Then you shall,” he said. “Tomorrow at first light, we shall arrange your household and your guards. And then you may explore the city as you wish. But - “ and here his voice grew stern - “you need not trade for what you require. Lindon will provide for its queen. I will provide for my betrothed. I will not have you surrendering the work of your hands for a mere gown.”

Linnea smiled.

A gown, no. She would concede that point; and, if she was honest, the thought of having to trade away the last fabrics that she and her parents had made had hurt. It was hard to object to any sort of plan that would allow her to avoid that pain.

But a ring?

That was worth a few fabrics. Especially if it allowed her to keep it secret, until the perfect moment.

“So be it, my lord,” she agreed. “So be it.”

Continue to Part 5

#gil galad #gil-galad #rings of power #the rings of power #fanfic #fanfiction #fix it au #fix it fic #gil-galad x ofc #trop fanfiction

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apomaro-mellow · 7 months ago

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King and Prince 17

Part 16

When Steve undressed that evening, he hung up the new outfit from Eddie with care. Tired from the day, he collapsed onto the bed, stripped down to nothing which was how Robin found him that morning, causing her to awaken him with a shriek.

Steve found his bed covered in an assortment of folded clothes, both for the daytime and for slumbering. They were meant for daily activities, so none as fine as the green outfit Eddie had gotten him before. But somehow Steve knew it was all the king’s doing.

One evening, Steve and Robin were recataloging books, when she finally spoke up about this strange relationship they had been forming.

“You probably spent your nights with more excitement. A lass on one arm a drink in another”, she said only half derisively. She was up on a ladder while Steve passed books to her from a cart.

“Eh, not all it’s cracked up to be. Besides, I got a lass and a drink right here.”

Robin raised a brow before realizing he meant her and the pitcher of water over by one of the tables. “I’m not your lass and it looks like your standards for drinks have dropped. What is it with you anyway?”, she asked.

Steve paused, arm halfway stretched to handing her the next book. “What’s up with me?”

“You’re acting like you don’t even miss it? Weren’t you a prince? Like, adoring crowds, people falling over themselves for you, friends for miles. That kind of prince?”

Steve shook his head and handed her the book. “It’s not what you think.”

“Oh come on, don’t be modest. It looks stupid on you.”

His face pinched at that, not liking being called stupid in any capacity and also wondering what Robin meant by that. Before he could ask, she continued, apparently seeing the confusion on his face.

“You’re going to tell me you don’t miss any of that? That you’re fine staying here and being a glorified lackey?”

“I…” Steve had been trying not to think about that place anymore. He didn’t miss it. “I didn’t have a lot of close friends. Not like you’re thinking. No real adoring crowds either.”

“Oh bullshit”, Robin slid down from the ladder. She looked to the water pitcher again before nodding to Steve. “Come on.”

And Steve followed.

Followed until they got to a room he’d never been in. It took Steve a little too long to realize it was Robin’s bedroom. There was a stack of well loved books by the bed. A dartboard with small knives sitting on a table nearby. And a bottle of wine that Robin had already opened.

“Uhh…”, Steve was paused by the door, wondering if he was only just now picking up on something Robin had been putting down all this time.

Robin turned to face him and then realized how it all seemed. Her body jerked like the very idea sent a shock of lightning through her and she nearly dropped the bottle.

“Oh! Shit! Shoot! No! I wasn’t-! We’re drinking! Just as like-I’m mean we’re not friends, but like. I don’t know, it sounded like you wanted to talk and I like gossip and drama but I thought you wouldn’t talk about it sober so…” Robin set the bottle down on the floor and sat down, a mismatched pair of cups already there.

Steve let out a breath. “I would have been terribly flattered.”

Robin rolled her eyes. “You’re not my type. In any way, shape or form.” She sat down right on the floor and poured for both of them.

“You’re at least one of my types, maybe”, Steve said. Robin was beautiful. And funny, and smart, and she knew how to handle the kids but also never took herself too seriously. Just as soon as the idea was put in his head, it was snuffed out. He tried not to think on it too hard as he took that first sip. What he was thinking about was how long it had been since he’d been with anyone.

“So there’s no one you miss?”, Robin pressed.

“I had, like two friends”, Steve admitted. “They were…we knew each other since we were kids. And we just kind of stayed together. But then we got older and it just got so…” Steve was too sober for this conversation, so he took a sip.

Robin got the message and switched gears. “Alright, what about a sweetheart?”

There were quite a few who could qualify. But none who Steve had thought of while he was locked up. No one in particular he wanted to rush back to. So he just shook his head. Then he took another sip.

“Don’t tell me you’re celibate because I won’t believe it.”

“Why not? I could be celibate if I wanted to, I haven’t had sex a single time since I got here. I haven’t even…”, Steve paused before making a motion with his hand like he was stroking himself. Normally he wouldn’t do such a gesture in front of a lady. But Robin wasn’t just a lady. Plus, she had already seen him naked.

Robin snorted. “You’re acting like that’s a long time. And are you being honest? You haven’t? Even once?”

“I haven’t been in the mood”, Steve shrugged. “And what about you? I haven’t seen you exactly rushing off to cavort.”

“Steve, you only see me a couple hours a day, don’t assume what I’m doing.”

“So are you…?”

Robin huffed, then took a gulp. “No. Not currently, anyway.”

“So we’re both living like monks.” Steve raised his cup.

“My mother would be so proud”, Robin drawled as she raised her own to meet Steve’s.

The way she said it, Steve instantly knew. Of course, he couldn’t know the extent of it, but it sounded like Robin’s mother rarely was proud. He wondered where Robin’s mother was. Wondered where some of the other families were too. Dustin’s mother worked in the castle, but that was about as much as he knew about any of their families. And what of the royal family?

“Hey, is it just Eddie?”

“Is what just Eddie?”

“The royal family. He doesn’t have any relatives? Any heirs?” Steve wondered if that was why he kept wards. To bring up one to take the crown. It was odd of someone his supposed age to have no one. And his own family’s recordings never spoke of any lineage stemming from or to King Edward.

“He is very much solitary, as far as I know”, Robin said. She took another sip but watched the prince from her rim.

All Steve did was hum in response. “So tell me about this mother of yours. She sounds just as lovely as mine.”

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

Eddie didn’t like being caught off guard. He always tried to cover himself and make sure he protected those under his wing. So even though the Harringtons had said they were done with Steve, Eddie couldn’t fully believe it until he saw it with his own eyes. Because spring was here and they were too conspicuous, the demobeasts he would allow to remain in hibernation for now.

So he sent birds instead. He sent them to watch over the king and queen and see how they were really taking the absence of their son. He saw Juliana give a few tears one evening, while staring at a painting of what must have been a young Steve. But that was it. There was no official announcement to their people, but it was plain to see that Steve was no longer considered royalty by the court.

With a groan, Eddie cut off the connection between him and the raven, miles away. He rubbed his own actual eyes and then left his study to go and sit with the eager smiles that mirrored his own. It was story time and tonight, Eddie was thinking of throwing a few obstacles in the way, something really to get the kids excited like a tough riddle or even a labyrinth.

He came to one of the more comfortable sitting rooms, drinks and snacks already on the table, each child in their designated spot. But there was a new body floating in the room, standing off to the side like he wasn’t sure which place to sit. Obviously, not in the grand looking chair that was most definitely designated for Eddie.

“What brings you ‘round these parts, my liege?”, Eddie asked.

Steve had an arm across him and shrugged. “I’ve heard so much about your stories, I wanted to hear them for myself.”

The thought made Eddie so giddy that he climbed up onto his chair, squatting on it like a gargoyle while he met Steve’s gaze with a grin. If the prince wanted a show, he would give him the performance of a lifetime.

“Well then”, he settled onto the cushion, legs crossed now. Come take the seat with the best view~”

Steve’s eyes widened, not expecting something so blatantly, well, flirtatious. But he quickly regained his composure. “I’ll be fine right here, thanks.” He took the floor on the other side of the table, able to see all of Eddie and the rest of the kids.

Eddie’s grin didn’t falter and if anything, it deepened. Suddenly, getting the little prince to sit in his lap seemed to be his greatest life’s mission. If only because of how funny it would be. Yeah… funny.

Part 18

Tag Team

@thesuninyaface @only-evanescent @snakeorsquid @ignoremyworld @theclichefortunecookie

@goodolefashionedloverboi @just-a-tiny-void @0body0disphoria0 @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @samsoble

@jamieweasley13 @y4r3luv @xtkxkrzrizir @un-knownperson @greekgeek24

@justdrugsformethanks @potato-of-the-lord @notaqueenakhaleesi @swimmingbirdrunningrock @queenie-ofthe-void

@nebulainajar @lil-gremlin-things @nicememerino @robininblue @hornedqueenofhell

@anne-bennett-cosplayer @moomkin77 @here4thetrama @bookworm0690 @autumncrocusandladybug

@lil-gremlin-things @littlebluejane

#apo writes #stranger things #steddie #platonic stobin #here's to HOPING yall are actually NOTIFIED

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mammons-lover · 5 months ago

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I enjoy the idea that the brothers are always catching Belphegor before he falls. When he's outside, he pays more attention to where he is, but at home, he can fall asleep anywhere. He's walking up the steps to his room, thinking he'll take a nap on the steps. He just collapses, and Lucifer is rushing up the stairs before he rolls down. Or maybe he gets very sleepy and is taking a bath; a brief nap won't hurt. Wrong! Beelzebub had to break down the door, and when he enters, Belphie is completely submerged. Another is when the brothers walk home from school together, they sometime put belphie in a shopping cart and wheel him around like a baby.

(One of Lucifer biggest fears is belphie getting lost or having belphie die from something that could have easily been prevented)

#obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me imagines #mammonobeyme #lucifer obey me #beelzebub obey me #belphegor obey me #leviathan obey me #asmodeus obey me #satan obey me

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roosterforme · 1 year ago

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A Love You Don't Find Everyday Part 24 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: With just a few short days left in Hawaii, you and Bradley talk about a lot of important things and make some important plans. And when Bradley asks you what else you have in your special suitcase, you both end up getting more than you bargained for.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, and swearing

Length: 5000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

Bradley woke up with you straddling his face.

"Roo, please," you whined, pulling at his hair as your pussy skimmed along his rough chin. As soon as his lips parted and you felt the swipe of his tongue, you moaned in delight.

Without a word, Bradley wrapped his hands around your hips and stroked your tattoo while you rode his face. His dick got harder as he looked up at you, brow scrunched up in determination as you bumped against his nose. He alternated between sucking on your clit and letting you grind against him as you got nice and loud.

"Are you gonna fuck me, Roo?" you asked, and even if you didn't mean it to sound dirty, it did. It really did. Your grunts paired with that filthy sentence had him determined to get you off like this. So instead of answering you immediately, he made you cum, and you gently squeezed around his tongue as your fingers relaxed in his hair.

"Yeah," he growled. "I'm gonna fuck you." He rolled you onto your belly and watched as the early dawn sunlight illuminated the villa. With your ass in the air and your cheek pinned to the bedding with his hand around the back of your neck, he filled you up.

You collapsed into a boneless heap as if you were ready to go back to sleep. "No, Baby Girl. It's time to get dressed. We have our boat outing this morning."

You whined and complained and didn't move from the bed while Bradley got dressed. "I changed my mind about riding the boat. I just want to ride your cock."

Bradley snorted as he scooped you out of bed and helped you get cleaned up. "Well, I need a little break."

Your eyes went wide with mischief. "You're such an old man."

"Listen," he growled as you got ready to go. "I can keep up just fine." But Bradley was honestly feeling all thirty six years old at the moment. You wanted him at least three times a day. He was currently living for those afternoon naps on the deck where you just wanted to snuggle up on his chest and relax.

"Okay, old man Roo," you whispered, taking his hand and leading him outside. "I'll spend the afternoon feeding you fruit next to our pool and giving you a back rub. How does that sound?"

He laughed and helped you into the golf cart. "Sounds ideal."

After the two hour long boat tour, during which you snuggled up on Bradley's lap and played with his hair, you picked a restaurant for a late breakfast. Bradley ate with his arm around your shoulders as you told him in great detail how much you loved Hawaii and thought they should move here.

"The beaches, Bradley. So much better than San Diego. We could get stationed in Pearl Harbor. We could move into the villa."

He kissed your cheek. "If you thought the villa was expensive for ten days, let's stick with our craftsman."

"You need to let me start helping you pay the mortgage and the rest of our bills," you said, and when he opened his mouth, you smashed your palm against it. "I don't even want to hear you argue with me about this."

"Fine," he murmured, kissing your palm when you removed it. He thought he could hear his credit cards sigh in relief.

"I have so much money saved since I stopped paying rent," you told him. "Definitely enough to redo one of the bedrooms into a nursery when the time comes."

He perked right up. "Airplane themed," he whispered, kissing your nose. "That's all I ask."

You laughed but agreed with him. "Airplane themed."

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

Bradley laid out the lounge chair cushions right on the deck and dozed off and on while you swam for the afternoon. Any time he woke up, you swam over to the edge of the pool and fed him a bite of food, just like you had promised you would. And then after he thanked you, he dozed off again.

After a few hours, you climbed out of the pool to join him, and he wordlessly welcomed you as you curled up all wet on his chest. This was perfect. Ten days of this was not going to be enough. You were surprised you weren't missing work. But with 24/7 access to your husband, everything else seemed to pale in comparison.

"Baby Girl?" Bradley asked after you heard his stomach growling. "What else is in that suitcase of yours?" he asked groggily.

"I thought you'd never ask!" you said, popping up from his chest and giving him a kiss. Then you proceeded to stand up and remove your bathing suit, draping both pieces over a chair so they could finish drying in the late afternoon sunlight. "Come look."

Bradley followed your every movement as you strolled completely nude into the villa, and then he was stripping out of his shorts and rushing inside after you. "Show me," he whispered, letting his hands settle on your hips as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

You turned to kiss his mustache as you procured a purple silicone toy from inside your lingerie filled suitcase and held it up. "Should I add this to my outfit when I get dressed for dinner?"

Bradley groaned and started kissing along your neck. "A vibrator? You're going to wear a vibrator to dinner?" His voice was laced with need and disbelief, and you giggled in response.

"Yes. And you can control it on your phone."

"Fuck," he grunted, and you could feel his hard cock at your lower back.

"Get your phone, so we can download the app."

Bradley had never released your body from his grasp so quickly before, nearly sprinting away to get it. Within minutes, he had set up the app and was testing out your toy in his hand. And with a look of delight as the "U" shaped vibrator danced in his hand, he mused out loud, "I wonder if I can control this thing from the wifi on an aircraft carrier."

Your jaw dropped as you looked at him. "I would be more than willing to help you find out," you told him. "But let's see how well it works with the resort wifi first."

Bradley groaned, and you ran your fingers along his hardening cock. When he reached for you again, you deftly slipped away from him and grabbed your clothes. "Come back, Baby Girl," he rasped.

"Save it for dinner," you replied, heading for the bathroom to shower and get dressed. Once you were all made up and ready to go, you collected Bradley from the deck. He must have used the shower outside, because his hair was still damp and he smelled like the delicious hibiscus soap.

He ran his fingers along the hem of your dress before he stood. "You look pretty," he whispered, letting his hand trail underneath your dress and up along your thigh as he pressed his body to yours. "How's that sweet pussy that I love so much? All dressed up for dinner as well?"

You hummed next to his ear as his fingers met the toy that was tucked inside you and touching your clit as well. "I'm ready to be teased."

"Well that's good, because my phone is at one hundred percent battery, and I love teasing you," he replied, leading you out to the golf cart with a noticeable erection in his white pants. You didn't even fucking care, and clearly neither did he.

The toy was actually providing you with pleasure as you walked. It seemed to be rubbing a sweet spot inside of you while simultaneously gliding across your clit as your hips moved. "Bradley?" Your voice was breathy and needy, and the look he gave you was sinful as he held your hand while you climbed into the cart.

"Yes, my love?"

You reached up and ran your fingers along his scars before you kissed him. "You're the best."

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

With a hard dick and a fully charged phone, Bradley walked with you positioned in front of him as you were led across the soft sand to a table on the beach for dinner. The table was small with a bench on one side, and Bradley slid in next to you. When the waiter handed you both menus and then turned away, you pressed your lips to Bradley's ears and whined. "It's not even on yet, and I'm already going to lose my mind."

Coming to dinner was probably a poor decision. Room service would have been the way to go. But the way you were rubbing yourself against Bradley was making him lose his mind a little bit too. And now he was opening the app and holding up his phone for you to see him select the lowest setting, tapping it one time with his thumb.

"Oh, fuck!" you said quickly, squirming around next to him while the waiter returned with a bottle of wine. Bradley listened to you order dinner, each syllable coming out in a shaky, needy voice while you uncrossed and recrossed your legs. The waiter eyed you a little cautiously when you bit down on the tip of your index finger, but he didn't say anything else.

"Make it two," Bradley said, unsure about what you had actually ordered, but happy to eat anything while you were softly moaning next to him with a look of aroused panic on your face.

"Roo," you gasped. "This feels so good."

He kissed you hard in the twilight darkness while soft music played nearby. You kept moaning the word good in between kisses, and Bradley wanted to take you back to the villa so badly. But he also wanted to edge the hell out of you until you were practically in tears for him.

As soon as he released your lips, he could feel your hand on his cock underneath the tablecloth. "What are you doing, Sweetheart?" he grunted as you unzipped his pants.

"Making you feel good, too."

Bradley glanced around and relaxed a little as the beach grew darker, and he let himself enjoy this completely depraved dinner. He buttered some bread and poured himself a little more wine while you stroked your hand languidly up and down his length. Then he hand fed you while you moaned, nibbling on the bread with wide eyes.

When you reached down to cup his balls and squeeze him gently, he kissed you. "I think you're ready for the moderate setting."

Bradley had to cut up your food and feed it to you while you rocked your hips slowly forward and backward. He was working hard to deny his own orgasm as you made soft, pornographic noises. You made it halfway through your dinner, still teasing his cock with your hand, when you whispered, "I'm going to cum."

"No," Bradley replied, shutting the vibrator off as you keened in displeasure. "Not yet."

"Roo!" you gasped, and he had to kiss you to keep you quiet as the waiter strolled back over.

"Behave," Bradley warned you. Luckily the handjob he was getting was hidden by the tablecloth, but his overstimulated wife was right out in the open, moaning about which dessert she wanted. Bradley grinned, because really, in the grand scheme of things, he was living a very charmed life when it came to you.

So he ordered his dessert as well as yours and asked the waiter to pack them to go. Then he turned to you, set the vibrator back to low, and said, "We can eat dessert back at the villa."

"Okay, Daddy!" you moaned so loudly, your hips rocking gently again as your nipples strained against your dress. And without any warning, you started jerking him off harder.

"Shit," he groaned, because now you had him too close. He had convinced himself he could hold off until returning to the villa. He had been wrong. As you whined his name, he knew it was over, so he pulled his pants up over himself the best he could.

And then Bradley was cumming in his pants like a teenager with his first girlfriend. And it felt so fucking good, too. Your hand was cum soaked and gliding over his skin while you started to grind on his thigh. He needed to get you out of here before you both got kicked out of the resort.

"Where are we going?" you asked, making it really difficult for him to zip his pants while you sat in his lap and licked cum off your hand.

"God damn it," he growled, shoving his tongue between your lips to taste himself there, and then he hoisted you up in his arms and carried you to the golf cart. "I'm taking you back to the villa. We can order dessert later. After I'm done with your pussy."

You were grinding against his abs, that vibrator still doing god's work, prepping you so well for him. Once he got you out on the secluded trail, Bradley pushed you up against a palm tree and sucked on your tits through your dress until you were really loud. Your sticky hand was wrapped around his neck, and he thought he was going to have to fuck you on the seat of the golf cart. Because by some miracle he was already hard again, and he fucking needed you.

"I need you to fuck me," you said abruptly.

"It's literally the only thing I can think about, let me assure you."

"God, Roo! This toy is evil!" you squealed as he got you situated in the golf cart, turned the headlights on and started to drive. Bradley watched you grip the dashboard with both hands as your head tipped back in pleasure.

"Do not cum yet!" he scolded as he drove a little faster.

You turned and glared at him in the dim light. "You're as evil as the toy!"

He laughed at you. He couldn't help it. "I'm about to treat you real sweet if you can just hold off a little longer, Baby Girl."

"Fine!" you shouted, pouting at him while he jerked the steering wheel around the last turn before the villa, lit up but lanterns on the porch, came into view. And then Bradley carried you inside, vibrating pussy and all.

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

You were lost somewhere close to euphoria as Bradley laid you gently on the bed and pushed your dress up to your waist. He spread your legs wide as you tried desperately to keep them together. You were ready to cum. This obscene little toy would be your undoing.

"It's so pretty," Bradley whispered, running his thumb along the vibrator as he held you open wide with his body between your legs. "What a gorgeous pussy, soaking wet and filled up."

You were about to beg him to remove the toy when he pulled his phone from his pocket and took some pictures of you. "Please?"

He smirked at you. "Only because you asked so nicely." And then he cranked the app up to the high setting, and your hips shot right off the bed. "Bradley! No!" It was too much. You had been on the edge for too long, receiving pleasure both inside and against your clit.

You wanted the familiar, loving feel of Bradley in and on you. He must have read it on your face or in your voice as he gently removed the vibrator and buried his face in your pussy. The feeling of relief was almost instantaneous. Stubble rubbed your sensitive parts as you wound your fingers in his hair. You felt your body going limp even before your orgasm fully hit. And somehow you just knew what was going to happen before it did.

You propped yourself up slightly, as well as you could, and you watched Bradley work his lips on your overstimulated pussy. And then when you came, you gushed all over his mustache and lips, a sound like a dying animal on your lips. Bradley went harder, lapping up every bit of the squirting mess you made.

Your eyes closed and opened a few times, feeling numb now as you drew your legs together. "I made a mess," you whispered, slurring your words a bit as Bradley eased his body fully on top of yours. He kissed and positively worshipped you with his lips and wet mustache. He smelled like you. The whole room did.

"You squirted, Baby Girl. Not a mess. Perfection. I love it," he whispered, stroking your neck with his thumb and pressing on your pulse point while your eyes closed again. You could feel how hard he was again.

"Bradley?" you whispered, turning your head to the side as he sucked hard on your neck. He was grinding against your body, but you couldn't figure out what to do for him. You just wanted to make him feel good.

"Please?" he rasped, his breath hot on your ear and your neck. "I wanna fuck you."

Silently you spread your legs open for him, and Bradley was thrusting his cock inside you with one hard snap after the next, fucking you into the bed. His lips were harsh on your nipples, and you could only manage to stroke your fingers through his hair softly.

"You feel so good, you feel so fucking good," he grunted, voice shaking as he somehow got you to squeeze gently around his cock while you moaned softly.

When he came, he filled you up, but you were almost asleep by the time he withdrew. "Sweetheart?" he asked, stroking your cheek and kissing your lips. "Are you okay?"

"I'm good," you promised, and he carefully scooped you up against his chest and cradled you in his arms. As you dozed against his chest, you could hear him pick up the phone and say, "Hi, this is the Bradshaws. We're going to need a piece of cheesecake and some clean bedding."

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

After Bradley drew a bath and got you situated in the tub with a bottle of water, he kissed you and pulled on some shorts. When the housekeeper arrived, he closed the bathroom door so you had some privacy. You'd never looked quite this spent before.

You weren't wrong. That toy needed to be handled with caution. You had instructed him to wash it, put it back in its case, and send it to the bottom of your sinful suitcase. And now Bradley wasn't sure how soon he would see it again.

Once the bedding was replaced and you were dried off, Bradley led you outside to the deck in your fluffy bathrobe. "Time for dessert," he whispered, and you sat on his thigh with your head on his shoulder. He fed you a bite of cheesecake every time you parted your lips, and when you were chewing, he took one for himself. "You did so good," he promised, kissing your hair and rubbing your thigh. "So so good. Squirted for me and let me cum in your pussy."

You parted your lips again, taking another bite of dessert from the fork as Bradley softly sang your praises with the sound of the waves breaking on the shore as a soundtrack.

When you fell asleep in bed, you were out cold until the morning.

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

You only had two days left in Hawaii with Bradley. Your husband. Everything had been perfect. You only wanted to be around him nonstop, have him touching you and talking to you. You didn't know how you were going to be able to fall back into your previous routine when you had to return to San Diego. Because when you had to return to work in a few days, you wouldn't get to have sex every eight hours, and have Bradley feed you dessert, and walk around naked.

You sighed against his cheek. He was sound asleep on the lounge chair, and you carefully extracted your body from his, nearly falling into the pool in the process. With a grin on your face, you tied up your red bikini bottoms and adjusted your top.

The other day, you had slept for twelve hours after Bradley had overstimulated you during dinner. Now it was his turn. He earned this nap. You'd kept him hard for an hour before finally letting him cum inside you. He was almost entirely unwilling to cum anywhere else at the moment, even when you mentioned your face as an example of a lovely place to do that.

You bent and kissed his cheek, and then you slid the deck partition open and took off toward the water. You walked up and down the long stretch of sand, occasionally stopping to wade in the ocean up to your knees.

The north end of the resort where your villa was located was much quieter. You only ran into a handful of people as you searched for shells, which was fine with you. Somehow you hadn't thought to feel self conscious around Bradley during your honeymoon. You'd been strutting around naked or barely clothed and letting him touch you everywhere all the time. But truthfully, you had never really felt shy about your looks around him at all. He was always so excited to tell you what he thought about you physically, and it had always been very flattering.

But now that you were out on the beach instead of just the private patio in your tiny red bathing suit, you were wishing you'd grabbed his floral print shirt from the deck chair.

You washed off the collection of colorful shells you found in the calm, pristine water, and then turned back toward the villa.

"You dropped this one."

You turned back toward the water and saw a guy holding out one of the larger shells you had found. "Thanks," you told him, holding out your hand for it. But with a grin on his face, he shook your hand instead.

"I'm Aaron," he told you, holding your hand expectantly.

You laughed and told him your first name. "I was actually reaching out for the shell."

"I know," he told you with a nod and a laugh. "But the opportunity was too good to pass up."

Now you were holding out a grabby hand which made him laugh more, but he handed you the shell. "I like your tattoo. It's unique," he told you, his eyes dipping down your body. You froze immediately. This was the first time you could recall anyone other than Bradley or your friend Caleb laying eyes on your dainty rooster.

"Thanks," you said, and the word sounded long and drawn out even to your own ears. "It's kind of new," you told him, still in a bit of a daze.

"It's some sort of bird?" he asked, grinning and taking a small step closer. "Are you a bird enthusiast?"

You almost snorted. "Well, I like roosters."

He was rambling on about birds now as his eyes were glued to your tattoo, and you were trying to find a good break in what he was saying to let him know you had to get back to your husband. And that's when you heard Bradley's voice.

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

Bradley mumbled your name as he woke up, but when he moved his left arm, you weren't there. The sun was warm on his skin now, and he felt like he had slept for days. You were a handful. You'd spent the last week continuously luring him to bed with you. Not that it was a difficult sell for him at all. He just really needed that nap.

He could hear the music still playing through his phone as he stretched and stood with a groan. It had to be close to dinnertime, and he was starving. But after calling your name and glancing around the villa, he decided to go in search of you before making any decisions about what to eat.

He knelt next to the pool and splashed a little water on his face and ran his fingers through his hair. He really needed to shave, but you kept telling him you were enjoying the rough feel of his facial hair. Maybe he wouldn't shave for the few days both of you had off over the upcoming holidays. Maybe he could even stretch it to your birthday.

How on Earth did he feel so needy for you at the moment? Probably because he'd been with you nonstop for days and days, and he was so used to the feeling of contentment that came when you were close by. He wanted you, so he set off to find you.

Slipping through the open partition, Bradley started to stroll between palm trees and flowering plants and made his way toward the water. And when he glanced to his left, he spotted you right away. It would be impossible to miss you in that sinful little bikini. You told him you bought it in red because it's his favorite color, and that made him feel so smug.

But now some other random asshole was looking at you. In your red bikini. The one you bought to show off how good you looked and make Bradley hard. What the fuck?

Bradley started heading toward you. Now this guy was touching you, and now Bradley was getting pissed. He squinted to get a better look as he got closer, but he could tell his guy was eyeing you up.

"Jesus Christ," Bradley muttered, walking a little faster. He was pointing at your pussy, and Bradley saw him mouth the word 'tattoo' while he did so.

That was for Bradley to look at. Only Bradley. Your husband.

"Oh no you don't," Bradley announced as he strolled up behind you. "This one is mine."

You spun to face him with a bright smile. "You're awake!"

But now this guy was looking at your ass as you wrapped your arms around Bradley's waist.

"Hey," Bradley barked, and the other man's eyes snapped up to meet his. "Give it a rest, man. She's got my rings on her finger, my tattoo by her pussy, and she's still full of my cum from earlier."

"Bradley!" you said with a startled laugh, looking up at him with a thoroughly shocked expression. "Did you wake up on the wrong side of the lounge chair?"

"I did. The side where my wife wasn't there. Let's go."

You muttered an apology to that asshole, saying, "Sorry, he gets a little cranky. He probably needs to be fed."

"Wrong, Baby Girl," he growled, palming your ass and tossing you over his shoulder while you laughed and screeched. "I need to be fucked by my wife."

"Okay, Daddy," you muttered as he carried you back to the villa, stroking his fingers along your thighs. "I can take care of that for you."

Three minutes later, Bradley was splayed back on the lounge chair naked, and you were untying your bikini bottoms again. His hard cock jumped against his abs as the red fabric fell to the deck at your feet.

"Come here," he demanded softly, and you straddled his thighs so he could feel your wet pussy on his balls. "This is mine," he whispered, skimming his fingers along your tattoo as you nodded hungrily at him. "And this is mine." He ran his fingers through your pussy as you cried out in need. "And this is mine, too." He stroked your cheek with his wet fingers and then let you lick yourself from his hand.

You were grinding against his cock, and he couldn't get himself inside you fast enough. "Roo!" you sang so prettily as you rode him. He gripped your hips, guiding you exactly where he wanted you as he covered your tattoo in your own wetness.

"I love you so much," he promised, sliding your bathing suit top to expose both of your tits. He stroked your nipples softly as you bounced on him, then he pulled you closer to get his mouth on you.

He sucked on your tits hard enough to leave bruises that you would feel the next day. And when you came on his cock, whining Daddy loud enough for anyone on the beach to hear, Bradley couldn't stop himself. With your nipple in his mouth, he bucked up into you until he filled you with even more of his cum.

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

When you finally caught your breath, you were draped across Bradley with his dick still inside you and your lips on his neck. "Were you a little jealous of that guy on the beach, Roo?" you asked softly.

He gently stroked his hand along your arm until he reached your hand. "He was looking at your tattoo. I was feeling a little territorial."

You laughed, your sticky body rubbing his. "I was feeling a little self conscious. I don't think this bathing suit was made for public consumption."

Bradley kissed your fingers. "It's definitely made for private consumption, Sweetheart. But you look so fucking hot in this tiny scrap of fabric, I can't even be mad that someone else was looking at you."

"You always make me feel good about myself," you whispered, and Bradley wrapped his arms around you.

"Will you wear this in my next calendar?" he asked, and you started laughing again.

"What makes you think you're getting another calendar?"

"I thought I was getting one every year for my birthday!" He'd been thinking about you in another set of calendar photos with a pregnant belly. It was almost too much. Then he'd have two versions of you to jerk off to.

"Mmm," you hummed. "If that's what you really want, I'll see what I can do. Come shower with me."

Bradley carefully washed your body, letting his hands enjoy the feel of all of your curves while you washed his hair. He was nearly panting with his eyes closed as your fingers worked into his scalp. It was just like the first night he ever spent with you. Bradley had known even then that he wanted to end up here with you today.

"I love you, Baby Girl. More than anything."

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

Thanks so much for reading! The next chapter will be the end of this series as they return to San Diego. I have loved every minute it this adventure, and I hope you'll keep reading along with Roo and Baby Girl on their next adventure! Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 25

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