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scuttle-buttle · 3 years ago

Text

Chapter 11

WC: 2077

Rated: E

Chapter Tags: full on angst, discussions of emotional trauma, mild depictions of blood/gore, mentions of self h*rm & su*cide, mentions of child abuse, discussions of physical disabilities, institutionalization, some dialogue & plot canon to TV show, hurt/comfort

🧠

The rest of the conference went by much like the first day did. Both you and Laszlo bought a few books for your collections. An ease had settled over your conversations with the help of Sara and John's presence; you spoke more freely with each other. You tell yourself it is not because he's going soft on you or vice versa, but rather that you have found yourself in this imaginary bubble where you happen to get on well. It's inevitable that it will pop once you’re back at school and Laszlo will revert back to his usual callous state.

Laszlo. It still felt odd to think of him like that, rather than by his title. You couldn't lie, it gave you a sort of thrill. Even in your dreams you had only called him by his honorific. Thankfully you didn't have another dream after Friday. You couldn't escape the feeling that you'd said something incriminating in front of the man in question. So you chose to pretend it didn't happen.

Monday morning came and you headed to the train station. Once again he had secured a private cabin for the journey. This time you came prepared with a book since you had yet to replace your broken phone.

"Thank you again for inviting me to this, I really enjoyed myself. It was really nice of the department to foot my travel expenses, the hotel was really fancy. I may have helped myself to a mini-bottle or two," you joked.

"There is no need to worry about the department's finances; they were not involved."

You pause. He paid for you? Laszlo did say he would take care of the arrangements; but the four-star hotel, the private compartment train tickets, the admission to the conference, and every meal? Shit, that must have been a fortune, hundreds of dollars at least.

You don't know what to say, so you settle for an awkward "oh." A moment passes before you add "I appreciate that, um, I can pay you back. Might take some time but I can."

The professor is flippant in his reply. "There is no need, it was well spent for the research and knowledge acquired." He opens his book signaling the conversation is over.

You lick your lips. Fine then, I'll just consider it payment for emotional suffering and damages of the last eight weeks.

The first few hours of the journey were spent reading one of the new books you picked up at the convention. Occasionally you would peek over the pages at the professor. He was engrossed in his own selection; sometimes he would pause to write down a thought.

Around the seventh hour of your journey you had given up on reading anymore in favor of looking at the fields outside. The silence was comforting.

Laszlo had trouble concentrating on the book in his hand. He saw you as a conundrum. One minute you could be sociable and teasing with your comments, then next you were biting at his throat with your quick wit and fierce ideals. He decides that he wants to know what made you into who you are today. Now is as good a time as any.

His eyes on you cause a tingle up your spine but you ignore it. Laszlo breaks the silence; "may I ask a personal question?"

"You just did," you answer, still peering out of the large window. He huffed once, amused. At his following silence you face him. You raise your eyebrows to signal him to go on with his question. Curiosity grows at the thought of what he intends to ask.

"Twice now you have made implications of a traumatic past," he begins.

Bubble popped.

Interrupting, you snark "is this the part where you psychoanalyze me, doc? Because trust me, I've been through enough of that." You pick at the lint on your jeans.

Laszlo tries to choose his words more carefully the next time he speaks. "What I mean to say is, the first afternoon in the classroom where you defended that student you implied you had been witness to a trauma. You then displayed signs of anger and embarrassment before leaving prematurely. Yesterday you mentioned having entered a psychiatric facility. As an alienist I can't help but find myself curious about your experiences."

You slide your eyes to meet his from across the cabin. Your face is devoid of any emotion. "We all have our demons. Even you can't argue with that."

Your jaw clenches. Everyone had warned you. They all said he would try to worm his way into your head to figure you out. All the reviews, the gossip, everything. It was a big fat 'I told you so'. You give a pitiful laugh at the situation. "You know, everyone told me that you would pull this stunt."

He seems confused by your statement. "And what is that?"

"That you'd get inside my head and try to figure me all out or whatever. You already know I googled you beforehand, what everyone says about your methods. By now I assume you've done a little research yourself. I promise you there is nothing exciting here," you scoff and point to yourself.

"You would be correct in your assumption." You chew at your cheek as he starts. "I do know some of what happened in your past. Yet I also know that society likes to dilute the truth into something either more palatable, more entertaining, for people to consume greedily. What I want to know is what you have faced. How you have not allowed the experience to overcome you so much so that your humanity is erased like the characters I lecture on."

Eyes closing of their own volition you are thrown back in time to that night so many years ago. You didn't talk about it anymore. Bitsy knew of course, but that was the extent.

Laszlo waits. He knows this is likely to push you over the edge if your history with him means anything. Quite frankly, anyone would be tossed to their limit at his interrogation had they gone through what you had. John always told him that he needed to work on his bedside manner; that he had a habit of coming on too strong in his pursuit of learning the intricacies of the human mind. But your earlier comment about being sent to a so-called 'nuthouse' rubbed him the wrong way. It left a bad taste in his mouth. He needed to know. He needed to understand.

Laszlo can imagine the reprimand that he would receive from John and Sara for this. Just as he considers apologizing for his intrusion you open your eyes.

"She was fine. None of us suspected anything was wrong. I came home from having dinner with some… boy, and she had locked herself in the bathroom. She- she must have started over the sink and moved to sit on the side of the tub. She was hunched inside it when I got the door open. I pulled her out. Blood was… everywhere." Your voice is clinical as you explain.

"After, I shut down. So I checked myself into a psych ward a few days later when I couldn't get the feel of her blood off my hands. It's slippery, you know. And it smells. You wouldn't think so but it does." You clear your throat. "I did the therapy, took the meds they prescribed, all the standard treatments. Later I started watching true crime documentaries. I'd heard about exposure therapy so I figured the more I saw the gore, the less the image of my dead roommate would bother me. And it did help. The nightmares stopped after a while, I came back to school. I was better, just not the same.” You had watched the passing landscape as you explained. Turning to face him you speak again. “That's why those pictures didn't bother me. They weren't anything I hadn't seen before."

He contemplates you. The discovery and subsequent loss of your friend in this manner would no doubt cause lingering effects to your psyche. A stain that would forever remind you. "I offer my sincerest condolences. I do not presume to know what that would be like to experience, but I am glad you sought help afterwards. To make the choice to alleviate yourself of your own suffering where possible.”

As he says this he realizes that your anger towards the idea of being enslaved to unconscious impulse makes perfect sense. It explains why you focused so much energy on defending your belief in free will. That you have the power to choose how you carry your joy, your anger, your healing. It reminds him of how he held onto his own guilt and hurt, ignoring how it festered within him for so long. He feels as though he needs to share a piece of himself with you.

“I played piano as a child, quite well too. My mother hoped I would someday make a career of it. I vividly remember playing Mozart’s Concerto for Piano No. 20 in D Minor at a holiday party when I was seven years old. It was my favorite to play.... It requires two hands." You finally look at him. "My father...” He pauses to gather himself.

Now it is the doctor that cannot meet your eyes. As you listen you feel your confusion grow. How could he have been a talented pianist if he only had full use of his left hand? Unless..., the realization dawns on you just as he continues, his words slow.

“My father had two sides. One loving and the other brutal, the two often coexisting. It was something as trivial as putting me to bed, I recall... A game of tug of war. We were laughing…” He inhales a sharp breath. Already you can feel the tears begin to blur your vision. “I don't remember if he was drunk or if I said something that offended him. He must have pulled my arm behind my back.” Laszlo exhales shakily. “In small children, fractures can often affect…” he trails off, unable to finish. You can hear how he barely holds himself together.

Your heart aches for the broken man that sits in front of you. He never let on how much his arm bothered him, at least not within your presence. Suddenly you don’t see him as this rude, insufferable, obsessive man, but instead as someone that spends his life trying to protect himself. He projects his own anger and hurt so that he may, just for a minute, forget about his own demons. He wants to help others even when he feels he cannot bear to help himself.

But unlike you, he has to live with the physical reminder of his past every day of his life.

You stand and move to sit on his right side. Before allowing yourself to think too much of your actions, you place your hand atop his own, curling your fingers around his palm and squeezing delicately. You don’t bother wiping away the tears on your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Laszlo;” the whisper is barely heard above the sound of the train. A second passes where you fear you have overstepped and offended him by touching the affected limb. When his thumb tightens against the backs of your fingers you know he is not. He holds you in place.

“You asked me how I kept my humanity. How does anyone really? We learn to take what we get and we carry it in a bag. Sometimes you have to drag the damn thing behind you. But eventually the weight gets less and less if you allow yourself to move forward, even if it’s still there with you all the time. I dealt with what happened years ago and it does still haunt me. It’s easier now than it was, but… I- I suppose I’ve learned from you too. Sitting in those lectures and hearing you talk. We can either let it haunt us for the rest of our lives… or we can accept it… and use the memory of our pain to help ourselves and others.”

“I’m not sure the choice is entirely in our hands.” His tone is mournful.

You turn to smile at him through your tears. His own eyes are bloodshot. “I disagree. If it weren’t, if we didn’t have the freedom to choose that, we’d all be murderers.”

Tag list

@hardlyinteresting @lorna-d-m @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @greeneyedblondie44 @unbeatablecurlgirl @apparrio @marchingicenotes7 @anteroom-of-death @bruhidaniel @lemairepstuff @thehuiabird @zemosimp05 @alindeluce @iamnotthecatladynextdoor @laura-naruto-fan1998 @trelaney @boneheadduluc @i-am-dead-inside-666 @fictionlandslanddreams

#the interpretation of dreams #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo x reader #laszlo kreizler #the alienist #the alienist angel of darkness #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #laszlo kreizler fanfic #laszlo kreizler daniel bruhl #scuttle-buttle #tw self harm #tw suicude #tw child abuse

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lexwritess · 4 years ago

Note

hii! i saw that your requests were open and wondered if you could do like an angsty xavier x reader? with the prompts 38. and 19? thank you <3 !

why’d you only call me when your high? [x.p.]

pairing: xavier plymton x reader

warnings: dr*g ab*use, fighting, angst, smut, swearing, cheating, both y/n and xavier are assholes, it’s a fucking lot okay? it’s good tho promise!

college au!

italics is flashbacks

normal text is present time

xavier fucking plymton.

you had some sort of an idea what you were getting into once you befriended the gorgeous blonde hair idiot but you never imagined this.

“xav, get over here!” montana shouted among the loud music and drunk students.

“meet my friend y/n! she’s super chill, i think i’m gonna make her join the group.” montana smiles.

“make me?” you raise and eyebrow at the blonde.

“oh yeah, montana isn’t to keen on asking people if they want to do things. you’ll end up doing it anyway.” xavier jokes.

“i guess i just got that kind of charm. i’m gonna go fill my drink!” montana walks away.

“xavier.” xavier introduces himself and extends his arm out to you.

“y/n.” you reply and meet his hand to shake it.

“you go to school here?” you asks xavier.

“no, i do go to the improv classes after school hours though.” he replies, leaning in closer to you.

“oh really that’s cool! what’s your interest in that?” you ask.

“i’m going to be a famous actor!” he says cockily.

“oh yeah?” you ask with an amused smirk on your face.

“yeah, i’m already in tons of commercials.” he gives a smile back to you.

you giggle and look around the cramped frat house.

“you wanna get out of here? there’s a really good pizza place down a couple blocks.” you ask xavier, hoping he agrees.

“hell yeah, this place sucks ass.” xavier says happily and grabs his jacket.

“wait wait wait, you’re telling me you did a commercial for some weird ass dildo in japan?” you laugh loudly.

“shhhh!” xavier laughs and pushes his finger against your slightly chapped lips.

“i didn’t know! it was before i had an agent and i was desperate for a gig.” xavier exclaims.

“mmm, japaneseeee dildoooo.” you giggle abruptly.

“oh my god y/n keep it down! are you sure you’re not drunk?” xavier quirks an eyebrow at you.

“i was just at a frat house for three hours with montana fucking duke as my tour guide...i’m drunk.” you giggle again.

“good point there.” xavier laughs at you.

“you can’t act innocent. you’re just as drunk as me!” you cross your arms and look at him.

“well yes, but i never said i wasn’t.” xavier gives you a smug look and takes a drink of his soda.

“yeah yeah whatever.” you playfully roll your eyes and take the drink out of his hand to take a sip.

“do you have a bucket list?” xavier asks.

“no, i don’t think so? i mean there’s things i wanna do but i don’t have them all sorted out.” you reply, shrugging your shoulders.

“well what’s one thing, anything in the world, you want to do and we’ll go do it?” xavier smiles.

“well...i’ve always wanted to hook up with a famous actor.”

“fuck xav!” you moan out as xavier thrusts increase in speed.

“shit y/n.” xaviers eyes roll back as he breathes deeply.

xavier moves your legs so they’re above his shoulders. making him go deeper, causing you both to moan loudly.

“fuck y/n you’re so fucking tight for me. so fucking tight.” xavier grunts, pining your hands above your head.

“shittt, xavier! i’m going to cum!” you moan into his ear.

“i’m almost there.” xavier says in a breathy voice.

“fuck xavier please!” you plead, tightening around him.

“shit shit...go ahead cum for me!” xavier’s thrusts get sloppy as he gets closer to his peak.

your walls clench around him one last time before you both finish.

“fuck that was good.” you giggle and xavier pulls out with a big smirk on his face.

“glad i could cross that off on your bucket list.” he smiles and gets under the covers.

“goodnight x.” you say sleepily and scoot closer.

“night y/n/n.” xavier says softly and wraps his arms around you before falling asleep.

that’s the night you thought you found your perfect person, but nothings ever perfect.

“we’ve just been on a few dates mon, it’s nothing serious!” you explain to montana.

she had found out about you and xaviers “relationship” you don’t think it’s a big deal. you’re just friends.

“what about all the hot dirty sex i’ve heard about?” montana looks at you with her eyebrows raised.

you rolls your eyes at her.

maybe you and xavier aren’t exactly just friends.

“keep your eyes on the road.” you tell her, avoiding the question.

it was her turn to roll her eyes at you.

“okay, you’re still not answering the question.” montana points out.

“okay! maybe we have sex sometimes but it’s normal! a little...” you give her a sheepish smile and she just laughs at your stupidity.

“don’t tell him but i kind of really like him. i like the way his eyes widen when he talks about acting or the way he gives side comments that fly right over chets head, or the way he has to remake his sandwich when we go out to eat because he has this very specific order-.” you rant while montana cuts you off.

“okay, you’re in love with him! why don’t you date him already!” montana shouts.

“he’s just been distant i don’t know...he’s only been calling me over to hook up i think somethings wrong.” you say glumly.

“you should go over and check on him, his apartment isn’t far away from aaron’s. want me to drop you off?” montana offers.

you debate her offer. you don’t just wanna show up uninvited but you did talk about coming over earlier.

“yeah sure if you don’t mind.”

you knock on the door of the apartment complex waiting for your favorite blonde bimbo.

when there was no answer you turn the handle to see if the door was locked.

you open the door and walk into the house a little.

“xavier?” you call out.

no answer.

“xav?” you ask again walking towards his room.

you smile when you see the sight of xavier sleeping soundly in his bed, little snores leaving his mouth once in a while.

you walk around his room admiring the many polaroids of him and his friends.

you grin when you find the one of the night you met.

you take it off the wall to take a closer took at it but you knock something over.

“oops.” you mutter to yourself and bend down to pick it up.

you pick up a small orange bottle with the words oxycodone written on it.

not prescribed to xavier.

you look at the location it fell and found another bottle of pills.

you don’t bother to look at the lable of it and put the other one back.

“what the hell?” you say quietly, tears brimming your eyes.

“y/n?” a groggy voice fills your ears.

you don’t say anything and walk out of his bedroom out to the kitchen.

“wait y/n where are you going?” xavier asks rushes out to stop you from leaving.

“you didn’t tell me you were an addict.” you say just above a whisper.

xaviers face goes white and he runs a hand through his hair.

“you weren’t suppose to find out like this.” he says quietly.

“were you ever going to tell me?” you ask louder this time, making contact with his icy blue eyes.

“of course i was going to tell you.” xavier grabs you wrist pulling you close to him.

“were you high all the times we hung out?”

“no! not all of them...” xavier looks away uneasy.

“the past couple times we fucked?” you ask him with an attitude.

xavier looks at you and a tear runs down his face.

you scoff and continue to put your shoes on.

“y/n, please don’t go! i’ll stop! i’ll drop the pills.” xavier pleads.

“why do you even want me to stay? you won’t commit to me, you don’t wanna hang out with me normally anymore, and you only call me over when you’re high! im fucking tired xavier!” you shout, tears streaming down your face.

“please, i love you. i’ll stop for you.” xavier pleads again.

“you love me?” you ask him with wide eyes.

“yeah.” xavier breathes, his face inches from yours.

“you promise you’ll stop with the pills?” you ask xavier, extending your pinky finger towards him.

“promise.” xavier whispers and intertwines his pinky with yours.

he technically never did break that promise.

“remind me again why we’re getting ice cream ten o’clock at night?” you ask your group of friends with a smile.

“because we’re fucking cool.” montana replies.

“i wish we would of took a car, it’s freezing out.” brooke shivers.

“here! take my jacket.” chet removes his jacket and places it around brookes shoulders.

“you guys are disgusting.” you laugh, taking a bite of your ice cream.

“oh c’mon y/n/n, let them enjoy being in love!” ray jokes, nudging your shoulder.

“yeah, you’re just mad xavier didn’t show.” chet says while shoving a spoonful of ice cream in his mouth.

“wait you told me xavier had an audition?” montana asks you confused.

“i know...i’m sorry i lied. i’m just worried and i didn’t want to think about it.” you say quietly.

the group looks at you with remorse and ray wraps a comforting arm around you.

“guys be careful going around this corner, lots of junkies.” chet says distastefully.

everyone picks up the pace a little walking down the alleyway to get back to the main street.

you turn your head to look towards a group of people when you recognize someone familiar.

“holy shit.” you say with tears brimming your eyes.

“guys be quiet and fast now.” you say urgently and you quickly get back to the main road.

“y/n what’s wrong?” brooke asks.

“xav-xavier was back there.” you say with a shaky breath.

“i think i’m going to head out...i’ll see you at home tana. thanks for ice cream.” you say quickly, walking past them to haul down a cab.

you got and the cab and told the driver to go to Arrow street.

which is not where your apartment is, but xaviers.

you had a key to his apartment so you just let yourself in and sat on the couch waiting for him to come home.

that’s until you saw a glimpse of orange in the garbage.

needles.

you didn’t want it to be true you did everything you could to try to convince yourself it was for something medical, but the more you looked around the apartment and saw the scattered needles in his bedroom you couldn’t.

“y/n, shit you scared me!” xavier laughs nervously.

“you disgust me.” you say say standing up, turning around to face him.

“what?” xavier knots his eyes brows in confusion.

“listen, you don’t think i know but i fucking know. i know you xavier. you’re not secretive i know when you’re not yourself, but heroin! seriously?” you ask the boy you love with tears streaming down your cheeks.

“babe-.”

“no! don’t do that shit! you’re in deep shit now. you know that? i do everything for you and you don’t make me feel like it’s worth it...you make me feel worthless! you lie to me, you’re high every time we’re together, and you blow me off to go buy dirty needles off junkies! it fucking hurts!” you scream, finally telling xavier how you feel.

“is it all worth it? is being high all the time worth it? it is worth to lose me?” you ask bitterly.

“no, no it’s not...” xavier says quietly as a tear rolls down his face.

“then why don’t you get help!” you say with anger.

“i will! i will please, one more chance just give me one more chance please!” xavier sobs.

you direct your gaze towards the floor as xavier steps closer to you.

“one more chance.” xavier says again, grabbing the side of your face, tilting your head up to look at him.

“are you high right now?” your voice hoarse from the fighting earlier.

“no, and i’ll flush the rest of them down the toilet right now.”

and you gave him another chance, and another chance, and another fucking chance.

always luring you with the dates, his jokes, the sex, his charm, the i love yous, and you would forgive him every time.

almost every time.

“how could you?” you say with a shaky voice, tears threatening to spill.

xavier told you that he wanted to have a movie night later that night, but when 8 o’clock rolled around and you walked into his room, you wish you never would of went.

seeing a girl on her knees in front of your boyfriend and him enjoying it killed you.

“you need to leave now.” you tell the girl.

she muttered a sorry and left the apartment.

xavier opened his mouth to say something but you didn’t want to hear it.

“don’t fucking lie to me right now, is this the first time?” you ask.

“no, i’ll never do it again please-.”

“xavier!” you say sternly.

xavier inhales sharply. “no this isn’t the first time, i’m sorry.” he sighs.

“you’re always sorry aren’t you? did you guys fuck?” you ask, clearly irritated with xavier.

“yes.” you can barely hear him.

“i fucking hate you xavier plymton...you ruined me!” you shout, letting all your emotions wash over you.

“you know it’s not like you’ve been fucking perfect either!” xavier yells, he’s never yelled at you like this before.

“i didn’t fucking cheat on you!”

“you’ve been distant. when i need you, you’re not here. you’re out drinking, or hanging out with fucking ray! i needed someone so sorry i was fucking that bitch but you weren’t here.” xavier shoots back.

“are you fucking blaming me? the only reason i’m drinking and hanging out with ray is because you choose drugs over everyone! you’re not the same guy i fell in love with. you say you love me xavier but it doesn’t feel like it...” your sentence trails off at the end, you’re not sure you can argue much longer you’re feeling yourself breaking.

“well maybe it’s because i don’t love you! you’re always on my back and you never shut the fuck up!” xavier hisses.

you’re speechless.

xavier doesn’t love you?

you can see the regret in his face after the words leave his mouth.

“don’t talk to me ever again, i swear to god xavier. never again.” you say as calm as possible, leaving the apartment building.

you go outside and let all your emotions out. your back slides against the wall as you bury yourself in your knees and start sobbing.

you pull out your phone and try your best to see through your teary vision for montana’s contact.

“y/n what’s up?” she asks.

“mon, i, i really need you to come pick me up.” you hiccup.

“shit, of course. where are you?” montana asks with concern.

“xaviers...”

you hear her sigh on the other side of the phone.

“be there in 5.”

“that son of a bitch! i’m so sorry y/n, this is my fault.” montana rubs your back for comfort.

“it’s not your fault, he changed.” you say, your voice raspy from all the screaming and crying.

“i just, i don’t think i can see him for a long time.” you say quietly, burying your face into your pillows.

“fuck, y/n my works calling, i’ll be back im going to call off.” montana starts walking out of your room.

“no, i’ll be fine. don’t call off.” you tell her.

“no, y/n it’s fine.”

“mon you call off all the time, they’ll fire you.” you give a little laugh.

“are you sure?” she sighs heavily.

“yes! now go i’ll see you later.” you shoo her away.

you never thought that day could of got worse.

you groan at the noise of someone knocking at your door.

“montana you have a key!” you complain, going to open the door.

you’re taken a back when you open the door to see two police officers.

“can i help you?” you ask nervously.

“you are y/n y/l/n, correct?” the one on the left asks.

“yes, am i in trouble?” you ask confused.

“no of course not, you’re number one in xavier plymtons emergency contacts so we decided to come to you.” the other answers.

you blood runs cold as a million possibilities rack through your brain.

“we regret to inform you that xavier has passed.”

you swear your vision went black for a second.

he’s not gone.

he can’t be gone.

“what, what happened? i-i just saw him two hours.” you stutter.

“he was found outside his apartment, needle in his arm-.” the woman officer cuts her partner off and mumbles something about being to blunt.

“he overdosed, heroin. i’m so sorry baby.” she looks at you with pitty.

“thanks for telling me...” you say so quiet you’re surprised they heard you.

they say goodbye again and you shut the door.

“no,no,no,no!” you scream falling to the ground.

“why the fuck would you do that? why why why why?” you tell again, tugging at your hair.

you let out a loud, heartbreaking sob and fall onto your knees.

“i didn’t mean what i said...i didn’t mean it i wanted you to talk to me i was just angry. you were angry. fuck fuck!” you wail out again.

xavier fucking plymton .

#ahs #american horror story #ahs 1984 #american horror story 1984 #cody fern #cody fern x reader #xavier plymton #xavier plympton x reader #michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #evan peters #evan peters x reader

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avintagekiss24 · 4 years ago

Text

SUNBEAMS & RHYTHMS || STEVE ROGERS; BUCKY BARNES

pairing: Steve Rogers x blind!black!reader x Bucky Barnes || word count: 5,414 || warnings: mentions of depression, mentions of anxiety, mentions of insomnia, mentions of suicidal/dark thoughts, mentions of surgery/side effects of surgery (seizures/medications), smut, sex, threesome (m/m/f), polyandry/polyamory || challenge: @jbbarnesnnoble mental health awareness month writing challenge - “the warmth of the sun fell over you like a blanket in the middle of winter.”

author’s note: this was such a great challenge, but please heed the warnings! we’re dealing with some sensitive issues in this one. I hope you guys like, and I also hope that I’ve handled this correctly! this is my first time writing a disabled reader. let me know what you think please :) and thank you all so much for all of the love since I've been back from my little hiatus! major inspiration from this post. I’m also getting used to a new laptop, so if there’s any weirdness in this post that’s why, lmaooo. okay, I'm done talking, enjoy!

The room is shrouded in darkness - but not that you’d notice anyway. Your body is covered by the thick duvet thrown over the bed, your face buried in your hands. A splitting headache forces your eyes closed, but you’re used to them. The headaches. They started a few years ago, out of nowhere - you just thought it was stress, or, maybe not getting enough sleep at night. You didn’t pay them any attention at first.

They got worse. They got to the point where you couldn’t get out of bed. Your vision would get blurry. Steve suggested a doctor - you said no, it’s just a migraine. You’d be fine. He insisted after a few more months went by, and your headaches got worse, your vision worse.

You still remember it like it was yesterday. You sat there, stunned into silence. Your whole body numb. Steve grabbed your left hand, Bucky your right, as the room started to spin - the doctor's voice fading away as she spoke. Brain tumor. It was so large now that it was pressing on your optic nerves, making you slowly go blind. Within months, purples and greens and blues and pinks were all replaced by nothing. Not even black - it was just nothing.

The last clear thing you remember seeing were the tears in Steve’s eyes and Bucky’s metal arm thrown over your hip as he held you tight. You had to squint to make everything out, but Steve’s eyes were shiny - cloudy - as the emotion trickled down his cheeks. You wiped them away slowly with your thumb as you tried to etch his face in your mind so you’d never forget it. You wanted each line, each crinkle, each little freckle to be ingrained in you. You’d already spent hours staring at Bucky, doing the same.

You made them smile - soft ones, toothy ones, lopsided ones, just so you could remember them. Both men obliged, although Steve clearly couldn’t stuff his grief and anger down as well as Bucky could. Bucky was angry with him at first - telling him to stay strong for you. Surgery wasn’t going to be easy, mentally, emotionally, physically - they needed to stay strong for you. You told him not to be so hard on Steve. You were all dealing with the death - of the person you were, your relationship as it was - he was allowed to grieve.

You woke up from the surgery a few days later, tumor free, but almost completely blind.

Everything was just different from that point on. The medication after the surgery did a number on you. The steroids made you irrationally angry and agitated. Insomnia kicked in, you couldn’t sleep for days on end, so they prescribed you a sleeping aid. You couldn’t tell if it were day or night, so on top of the insomnia, your circadian rhythm was fucked - more medication. Your balance was off, you were confused more times than you weren’t, you had a seizure or two - bad ones.

That’s when the depression seeped in. You missed who you used to be. You were fun. You were wild - that’s how you ended up in a relationship with two men in the first place. You had a great laugh. You couldn’t hold your liquor for shit, and you had a great sense of style. You loved everything and everyone and now, you’re just a shell of that person. You end up laying in bed most of the day, days on end, as dark thoughts swarm around you, consuming the last spots of light you have left.

You’re a burden to them, Steve and Bucky. They’ve both had to leave the team, not wanting to be far from you in case something happened. Steve turned his shield over to Sam immediately upon hearing the news. Bucky stayed on for a while longer but wouldn’t leave the country, until even that was too much for him. He’s been home full time for a few weeks now.

The headaches now are from the new crippling anxiety and stress that you live with constantly. You don’t bother to put on anything but old t-shirts and sweats because, what’s the point? You can’t even remember what your favorite clothes look like. One afternoon, in a fit of rage, you pulled every article of clothing from the hanger and made Bucky tell you what color it was before you threw it away. You could only imagine him standing there, his hands on his hips, his head down, his voice low as he rattled them off - red, pink, yellow with white polka dots, navy blue and white stripes.

Between the irrational anger, the headaches, the insomnia, the feeling that your floundering - sinking just below the endless, dark water - you just want to give up. You just want to close your eyes and float away. Make it all end.

You hear the door slide across the carpet as it opens, and then heavy steps before a massive weight presses into the mattress. The duvet starts to shift but you grab it, stopping it from sliding off of your head and groan loudly.

“Bucky,” you whine, “Please don’t.”

He chuckles, “How d’you know it was me?”

His body wash. You used to laugh at the differences between the two of them - like day and night almost; but their juxtaposition is what made them, them. Bucky always went for earthy tones; rich - scents and colors alike. Naturally, his preferred body wash was heavier than Steve’s, distinctly masculine. Steve always liked a hint of sweet.

“Baby,” Bucky’s voice is soft and airy, “You gotta get up.” You don’t respond. You draw your knees into your chest as you feel him shift behind you, “Come on baby. We have a surprise for you.”

“I don’t like surprises.”

You can sense the smile on his face. He shifts again and suddenly you feel those metal digits slide up your spine. Slowly, slowly, slowly, they creep along your back and up to the back of your neck where he scratches at your hairline. You hate how short it is, your hair. You were natural before, took the utmost care of it. Steve helped you shave it off before surgery. Now, between the medication making it brittle and quite frankly, the lack of care you have, Steve helps you keep it short.

You let out a breath as Bucky’s large hand sweeps over your head, cupping it underneath the duvet before his digits find your ear to pull gently, playfully on the lobe, “Please? For me?”

You sigh. You let him pull the duvet away from your face. You start to blink quickly; jump slightly when you suddenly feel his lips on your cheek. You’re still not used to it yet, your senses aren’t - they’re getting stronger, you just have to trust them. You can hear your therapist's words like she’s sitting in the room with you. You relax though, when his cheek rubs against yours as he wraps your body up in a tight hug. You even smile a little as he kisses down your neck and along your shoulder as he rubs your hip.

You reach for him, finding his chin with your fingers. The short hair that grows along the bottom half of his face is prickly - sharp. You walk your fingers along his jawline and cup his cheek as he moans into the crook of your neck.

“Where’s Steve?” You ask softly.

“Packing up the car.”

You roll slightly onto your back, blinking at the nothingness as your fingers still move along Bucky’s face. You raise your second hand, sliding it along his left cheek, feeling him. You push your fingers over his lips, tracing them as you try and figure out what he’s feeling. Your hands move upward, over his nose, up to his eyes where you feel the crinkles on either side of them. He’s smiling; it’s a big one.

“Steve is really excited.” He says.

You picture an excited Steve. The light that fills his brilliant, blue eyes, the whiteness of his toothy grin. God, you miss his face, “Where are we going?” You ask after a moment.

There’s another kiss pressed to your cheek before he sits up, gently pulling your arms with him, “That’s the surprise.”

You let him pull you up to your feet. There’s footsteps again, coming down the hall, “Buck,” Steve says.

“She’s up.”

You turn your head in the direction of the door, dropping your chin to your shoulder, listening as the steps draw nearer. You close your eyes again and let another small smile spread on your lips when you feel soft fingers, Steve’s fingers, start to massage your shoulders. He kisses the back of your head and then your temple.

“Feelin’ better?” He whispers.

“Not really,” you answer honestly. You’ve never lied to them, there’s no use in starting now.

Silence drops over the room. You’re sure that they’re exchanging a quiet conversation, their eyes bouncing back and forth between each other, “Guys?”

“Still here,” Bucky answers, “Hands up, let’s get you dressed.”

You oblige, lifting your arms over your head as he pulls his old t-shirt away from your body, “I can dress myself.”

“Just let us help you.” Steve says gently, his hands slipping into the sides of your sweats to push them down your legs, “You know we’ve always liked pampering you.”

That they have. It’s been a long time since you’ve let them. Their hands feel familiar but yet different - you weren’t really paying attention to the feel of them before. Now that it’s all you have, the feel, you notice the difference between the two of them. Steve’s hands are a little softer than Bucky’s, but he hasn’t worked in over a year, that’s what you suppose anyway. Punching people and gripping various guns and knives are killer on the hands.

Once you’re stripped naked, Bucky places your arms back by your sides. You feel Bucky’s hands (his are calloused still) on yours within seconds, then, a slick material against your fingers.

You squint, “Is that a bathing suit?”

“It is. Your favorite one. Remember what it looks like?”

“The blue one?”

“With the polka dots.” He presses it into your palm, letting you feel it, “The strapless one, that sinches in the middle of your chest.”

You smile a little as you run your fingers over it. The stomach is cut out, the waist high. You liked it because it made your ass and your boobs look incredible, “I love this one.”

He kneels in front of you, grabbing your hand and placing it on his shoulder as Steve places his hands on your hips - steadying you, in more ways than one. Bucky lifts your left leg by your ankle and helps you step into your bathing suit, then moves to the right foot, sliding the soft material up your legs. Once his hands reach your waist, Steve takes over, grabbing the suit and pulling it up the rest of the way, up over your chest. He kisses your neck as you adjust the top over your breasts.

“Thank you.” You offer gently.

Steve pushes your hands above your head again and slips something soft down your arms and over your head. Bucky grabs it and pulls it down your body, adjusting it slightly as you place your hands on your chest - feeling it. It’s a cover up, the white one you think; the one you got on your vacation in Maui. It has a stain on it. Steve knocked over the bottle of red wine the three of you were enjoying as the two of you danced on the patio of your ocean front room, Bucky watching you with a small, happy smile on his face.

“I like this one,” you say more to yourself than to them, “It makes my legs look long.”

“Your legs are long.” Steve chuckles, “Come on, shoes now.”

Once you're fully dressed, Steve takes your hand, starting to guide you towards the door. You slip out of his grasp, taking a breath, “I can do it.”

It’s thirty seven steps from here to the kitchen. That’s when you make a right and take fifteen more steps to make it to the garage door. From there, it’s five steps to the car, unless it’s backed out into the driveway - then it's between twenty two and twenty seven steps, depending on just where it’s parked. You’re getting the hang of things, no matter how much you hate it.

You feel them hovering behind you as you walk but they both respect your boundaries, letting you navigate the house without intervention. You slide your hands along the side of the car to the door handle and pull, the old door creaking just a little. Bucky isn’t much of a car guy, but Steve? This 1967 Chevy Impala was the only thing he and Tony could talk about without fighting. Steve gushed over it every time the three of you had dinner with Tony and Pepper. Then, one day, it was parked in front of the house with a simple note from Tony shoved underneath the windshield wipers - Capsicle, much like your face, I can’t stand to look at this any longer. Enjoy.

You slide into the seat and within seconds feel their thick bodies enveloping you, squeezing you between the two of them. The seat rumbles against your back as the car comes to life, the engine and mufflers loud as… you lift your hand to the shoulder on your left and run it the length of his arm, down to his wrist, gripping slightly as you go. It’s Steve, his arms are just a tad longer than Bucky’s you’re coming to find; more vascular.

You squint as the car backs down the driveway and the sun hits your face. You lift your hand, blocking the rays as you start to fumble around in front of you. You’re surprised at how sensitive your eyes have become to the UV rays. There’s a hand on yours, then your glasses pressed into your palm, the fingers not pulling away until you unfold them and slip them onto your face.

“Good?” Bucky asks.

You nod, “Good.”

The windows are down, the warm breeze whipping around you, caressing your skin. The radio is turned up - Dreams by Fleetwood Mac - as you drive. Bucky hums softly, his metal fingers linking with yours, his lips pressing against your temple every now and again. Steve taps along to the beat with his fingers against your bare, exposed knee before he squeezes it gently. You smile as you start to relax, Steve’s words coming back to you. Just let us help you. You know we’ve always liked pampering you.

You drive for a while, over an hour maybe. Then, the car slows as you turn and stays slow, creeping almost, like Steve’s looking for something. The car turns again and comes to a stop a second or two later. The engine dies, the two buff bodies shift away from you as the doors pop open. There’s a tap on your right shoulder. You reach out and feel on the forearm until you find a hand, Bucky, before he grabs tightly and helps you out.

“I’m gonna help you, okay?” His voice is soft as he rubs his chin against your shoulder.

“Okay.” You answer. You turn your head to your left and blink quickly, anxiety starting to rush through your veins from the unfamiliarity of your surroundings, “Steve?”

“Right here, baby.” His voice is soft too. You feel his fingertips brush along the inside of your left wrist, just to assure you he’s close, “You’re okay. I had to get the bags.”

Bucky slips his arm around your waist and keeps your hand in his as he guides you. You count each step. Bucky narrates every move - that you are in a garage, just about to enter a house. You’re in a small hallway, seven steps before a left turn, then you’re in the kitchen. There’s an island to your left, a kitchen table with four chairs on your right and if you keep walking straight, you’re in the living room. He lets you feel your way, reaching out to touch the walls, the backs of the chairs, the island, as he talks.

You stop when Bucky stops, and then hear something slide open before the sounds of water crashing fills your ears. You’re back outside, the warmth of the sun falling over you like a blanket in the middle of winter. A hand slips down your calf and wraps around your ankle before your foot is lifted and your shoe removed. A broad smile covers your face. You haven’t been to the beach since the diagnosis.

You take a step forward once you’re barefoot, one of them grabbing your wrist quickly, “There’s steps, babe.” Bucky says.

“How many?”

“Six.” Steve answers, “Here let me-”

“I got it.” You say dancing your fingers over the railing and taking small, cautious steps until you feel the first step, “I got it.”

They’re hovering again. You can’t see it, but Steve has both hands extending out on either side of you, ready to catch you if you stumble. Bucky jumps the railing entirely, landing softly in the sand and rushes to the bottom step, his eyes on you as you move down them slowly. When you step into the hot sand, your smile grows - if that’s even possible. You wiggle your toes as the grains slip between them and the waves continue to crash not far from where you stand.

Steve and Bucky keep their small distance from you as you walk towards the ocean’s edge, knowing you're close when the sand changes from loose and dry to stiff and wet. The water washes up over your feet, the smell of salt fills your nostrils, the random calls of seagulls both near and far ring in your ears. You grab the hem of your cover up and pull it over your head, discarding it onto the ground without a care as you move deeper into the water - a new purpose, new life flowing through your veins.

You don’t feel them hovering anymore. You guess they’ve both stopped at the water’s edge, soft smiles on their faces as they watch a wave crash into you, making you stumble. You laugh, loud and carefree, as you fall on your butt, the strength of the water pushing you around slightly. You don’t know it, but Bucky’s smile widens and Steve’s chin trembles as they watch you find a meaning again.

Tilting your head to the sky, you run your wet hands over your head before you wrap them around your legs, bringing them into your chest. You let the sun beat down on you. You let the water wash over you. You let the tears come. You let them slide down your cheeks and fall into the water. You let the ocean carry all of your tears, sadness, anxiety, and depression away from you and out into the abyss. You don’t want it back.

You lay out underneath the sun for hours, making peace with yourself, becoming one with the sand, water, and sun. Steve and Bucky keep a watchful eye until you call for them. Then, and only then do they approach, hands and fingers and lips all over your damp skin. They lay with you, staring up into the sky and calling out the shapes of the clouds. They play with you, splashing water in your face and pinching and tickling your sides as the three of you laugh loudly. Wildly.

You feel like yourself again.

When the sun sets, and the breeze rolling off of the water turns chilly, making chills run through you and bumps pop up on your skin, the three of you head back inside. Door dash brings you a quick dinner, which you all inhale before heading back into the bedroom to bathe. Bathtubs are rarely big enough for the three of you, but you always make it work - sitting in Bucky’s lap, your back to his chest, Steve at the other end.

Steve shaves your legs slowly, dropping kisses on the inside of your ankle as Bucky massages the shampoo into your short hair. Bucky taps underneath your chin before he pushes his index finger into it softly, tilting your head back. He pours warm water over your hair, sweeping his hand through it to push the suds away. Just let us help you. You know we’ve always liked pampering you.

You stay in the tub with your boys until the water runs cold. You’re wrapped up in a warm, fluffy towel, Bucky rubbing his hands up and down your arms trying to warm you up as you shiver and laugh at yourself. A song starts to play from somewhere in the house, slightly muffled as the sound passes through the walls and down the halls. Dream A Little Dream Of Me. The duet between Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong. Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes were long replaced by Captain America and The Winter Soldier by the time this version came out, but they love it all the same. It reminds them of home, they tell you.

You’re suddenly crushed against one of them - Steve. You know this because you run your hands along his chest to his shoulder, not feeling the jagged, deep scar where Bucky’s flesh meets metal. He grabs your small hand and places it to his chest as he sways with you, back and forth, turning in slow circles as Louis croons.

Stars fading, but I linger on, dear

Still craving your kiss

I'm longing to linger till dawn, dear

Just saying this

Steve spins you away from him and Bucky finds you, wrapping you up in his arms - an arm slung around your waist, fingers spread against your naked back as he holds your hand. You melt into him, humming softly as your toes brush against his, the soft sounds of your feet pushing along the hardwood floor beneath you adding a natural soundtrack.

Steve’s hands find your shoulders from behind. He presses his thumbs into your flesh as he squeezes and rubs slowly, his lips peppering your jaw and down your neck, “You’re so tense, baby.” He whispers.

“Depression will do that to you,” you chuckle, your new humor darker than what either one of them are used to. You feel them both stiffen at your words, hear a sad sigh from behind you, “Sorry. It was just a joke.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Bucky says, “We want to know what you're feeling, good, bad or indifferent. You don’t have to joke with us.”

You take a breath. You rest your head on his chest and start to chew on your bottom lip, “I know.” Your voice is small.

Defense mechanism.

You fight the urge to cry. Your eyes start to water, your skin starts to flush with heat, your jaw gets tight. Steve grabs the back of your neck gently as he kisses your shoulder blade gently, just wanting you to feel him. Bucky keeps dancing with you as the tears start to fall, cupping the back of your head in his large hand as he pushes his lips to your forehead.

What is it your therapist says? You aren’t in this alone, or something like that. You never believed her, or those words - until right now. Right in this moment. It’s been a year of self imposed loneliness. Dark thoughts accompanied by even darker impulsions of wanting to slip underneath the water and never resurface. Fear and anxiety telling you that you need to push away - they’ll both leave you one day for a resemblance of normalcy again.

They haven’t.

They won’t.

The days have turned into weeks, have turned into months - and here they are. Slow dancing with you in the moonlight as Ella Fitzgerald plays through the walls. Bucky wipes at your cheek with his thumb, pushing the emotion away. He nuzzles his cheek against yours as you reach up and scratch at the nape of his neck to calm yourself, “We aren’t going anywhere, doll.” He whispers.

“We promise.” Steve adds on.

You let out a breath that you didn’t know you were holding. Bucky tilts your head towards his and without a warning, his lips cover yours. Soft. Commanding. His velvet tongue massaging yours as Steve bites down on your shoulder.

The sheets of the bed are soon mangled and twisted, pillows cast to the floor as you writhe beneath Bucky’s heavy body. Your leg is thrown over his hip, your fingernails dig into his thick flesh, the tips of his long, soft, dark hair brushing over your face. You have your other arm draped over his neck as his hips push into yours, driving himself deeper and deeper into you. Your mouth hangs, as does his - lips brushing against each other, hot breath washing over each other's skin as you push your foreheads together.

Steve waits patiently, although his fingers dance over your breasts, his palms brushing over your nipples before he palms your skin. He squeezes and gropes before he sends his hand down your stomach and to your clit to rub gentle circles against it as Bucky pummels you. He’s on his side, his nose and forehead pressed against the side of your face, his bottom lip between his teeth before he nips at your jaw and chin.

He tears your hand away from Bucky’s body to grab his hard length, dragging your palm with his, down his shaft. He’s so warm. His tip wet from his arousal.

It’s been a long while since the three of you have made love. It’s been a long while since you’ve felt beautiful enough too. You hadn’t realized how much of your self esteem was wrapped up in your hair until you had to shave it off. You also weren’t sure if you’d like it the way you used to - handle it with the same confidence you once had. Not being able to see them - see their hard muscles and their strained faces while in the throws of passion. That’s what turned you on.

Not anymore.

It’s the way you can tell them apart without having to see them. It’s the feel of their bodies now, not the sight of them. How rough and dominant Bucky’s hips are in your darkness, how sweet and loving Steve’s touch is. Their sounds; both deep and desperate for you. How the sounds vibrate against your ear drums and skin, moving through you - the illicit response your body has to them - the sounds.

You slam your head back into the pillow as Bucky pulls out of you. You pant and moan as you arch your back from the mattress as they shift around. Steve’s lips, you know their Steve’s because they’re rushed; always rushing, rushing, rushing like he’s still a man running out of time, push against your stomach, light kisses moving down to your sex. He bends your legs back, your feet dangling by his ears as he nibbles on the inside of your thigh.

Bucky grabs your hand just as Steve pushes his nose through your folds and sucks you into his mouth. Bucky moves your hand down his hard stomach to his pulsing hips. You wrap your hand around his warmth and feel him pump up into it, a little grunt falling from his lips at the same time.

Steve hums as his tongue swirls around you, flicking and lapping at you as his index and middle fingers push into your cunt. You buck your hips into his face, using all of him, his chin, his lips, his nose to cop a feel as he sucks on you. He releases your flesh with a loud smack - then drags his wet mouth the length of your thigh, up to your knee, and along your calf as he sits up on his knees. He extends your leg, resting it against his chest and shoulder as he sucks your manicured toes into his mouth, his large hand caressing your calf.

Bucky growls as he sucks your taut nipple into his mouth and wraps his metal fingers around your throat. He then kisses your mouth, hard and desperate, moaning into you as he continues to push his hips into your warm hand and against your side. He squeezes, gently, slowly, causing you to gasp just as Steve pushes into your wet, slick, swollen cunt.

You groan into Bucky’s hot mouth as Steve starts to move. His thrusts are softer, gentler than Bucky’s - always have been. He keeps your leg curled over his shoulder, his lips peppering kisses along your ankle and calf, his other hand and fingers gripping your thigh. The cool metal of Bucky’s fingers skip over your hot skin, down between your breasts and to your stomach before he flattens his palm against you, pushing down to add some pressure.

Bucky bites your bottom lip, pulling softly before he lets go. He nuzzles back into the side of your face, the stubble on his cheek cutting across your skin. He wraps his hand around yours that still pumps his cock and glides it slowly up and down, up and down, up and down as he moans into your ear; heavy, hot breath caressing your neck and the side of your face.

Steve hits a spot; your toes curl. Your hips jerk - your muscles tense. Fingers begin to massage your clit, slow, slow, slow circles to draw out the sensation. Teeth nibble at your ear lobe. Fingers glance across your skin. Mouths and lips take turns on yours. Steve drives his hips harder and faster - pushing, pulling, pushing, pulling. Bucky breaths fire laced words, provoking you, prodding you, coercing you to just let it all go…

You shatter. It consumes every bit of you. Physically. Emotionally. Their hands and fingers are everywhere, gripping, pinching, holding as you come. Steve pulls out of you - he always liked to watch you come, how your sticky, swollen sex convulses with each contraction from your orgasm, your clit jumping. He pushes his fingers back through your folds as he pushes his cock inside of you again, also loving the squeeze.

You feel hot, quick bursts of silk, over and over, splash against your stomach. Bucky groans with each, right up against your ear, the sound vibrating through your entire body.

Heat then blooms inside of you - Steve. Your muscles constrict around him, pulling each warm, thick ribbon of cum from him, coating your walls. He pushes deep and grabs your hand, placing it right in the middle of his chest so you can feel his muscles tense and flex as he comes. Feel the soft rumble of the grunts that vibrate through his chest. Feel his heart.

He collapses beside you, your body bouncing against the mattress as his weight pushes against it. The three of you are nothing but heavy breaths and balmy skin. Eyelashes resting against your cheeks as your eyes close with the recession of your lust. A head rests on your chest. You lift your hand and slip your fingers through the tresses, finding them short and kind of wispy - Steve.

Metal fingers curl within yours, a sturdy leg thrown over your thighs. A hand splays across your chest. Lips connect with your shoulders and jaw - fingers massage and scratch at your scalp softly. It’s all a blur. The haze won’t let your brain try and figure out who is who; but maybe that’s the point. Maybe it’s what you need. You don’t need to know. You can let go some of the control that you’ve been so desperately searching for.

You inhale deeply; and let out the breath you’ve been holding for over a year.

Your delicate fingers are lifted and pressed against hot lips - each digit receiving a kiss before being placed on a chest. The thump thump thump of a heart beat drums against them. You let out another breath as you nuzzle into their heavy bodies, soft I love you’s passing back and forth. There’s a faint skip of the record player down the hall. The soft whoosh of the breeze playing with the open curtains that cover the windows. Three bodies huddled in the center of the bed; just breathing.

In and out.

793 notes · View notes

amjustagirl · 4 years ago

Text

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven. ~ eight.

Wordcount: 2.7k

Summary: Being with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it’s impossible to tame a storm.

Masterlist here

AO3 Link here

Playing volleyball in Milan is everything Atsumu dreamed of and more - the lights are brighter, the crowds are bigger, there are no distractions, no nagging to ignore, no pending errands to run - nothing to detract from the rush of exhilaration when he executes yet another perfect set. His teammates introduce him to the joy of soaking in the sunset over aperitivo by the Navigli canals, and he develops a liking for cheese and cured meat - prosciutto, salami, bresola, sending pictures of the street markets to Osamu even though he receives no reply.

But it’s not long before the novelty of living alone in a foreign land fades. He’s never been particularly good with languages, so he’s unable to get across the language barrier preventing him from socialising outside of his teammates. So Atsumu finds himself falling back into habits he learnt at home - buying take-out pizza on Friday nights from the pizzeria down the street, ordering extra because the pizza in Milan is thinner, crisper and infinitely less filling. There are no aquariums in Milan, no museums with dinosaur bones, so he measures his steps on cobblestone streets to the park every Sunday to sit on a bench too large for him alone, watching the birds and clouds in the sky.

He tells himself to be content with watching his baby grow through the frame of an eleven inch screen, recording every one of her babbled words and chuckles onto his phone until it runs out of space and has to call Suna for technical support. He becomes a regular at the post office, mailing packages of dolls and nutcrackers, chocolates from his favourite sweetshop and handmade baby dresses from wizened oba-chan he learns to air kiss on both cheeks.

‘Home, Oto-san?’ Shino asks during one of their calls. His voice breaks when he has to tell his baby ‘sorry, darlin’, not yet’. It’s the only time he opens up the webpage to check if he can book a flight back home.

He starts rushing to the locker room right after matches end to avoid seeing his teammates’ faces light up when their families congratulate them with kisses and warm embraces after every match. When his teammates ask about his family (he drives away the thought that they’re asking out of pity), he whips out his phone to show them his favourite picture of Shino, her little face screwed up in confusion when they loaded her back with the giant mochi for her first birthday- ‘such a trooper, didn’t even cry when she fell down’ he tells them proudly. He’s quick to swipe past any photos of her.

He doesn't need the memories, he really doesn’t.

Well - he might not need the memories, but it’s not as if they disappear. He wakes up to find himself on the other side of bed. ‘Sorry, darlin’ he mumbles sleepily (because he knows he tends to invade her space, and she’s likely to kick him bodily off the bed if he doesn’t apologise quickly enough) - before snapping awake with a thin sheen of cold sweat on his forehead remembering he’s five thousand, nine hundred and sixty miles from home.

Not that he’s counting. He really isn’t.

He’s ashamed to admit that he heads to the club that night to pick up someone - anyone to warm his bed, but he’s not sure if it’s the burn of alcohol or the flashing lights (or that prick of something in his chest - it can’t be his conscience, he’s pretty sure only Osamu has that) because his stomach churns whenever pigs with their painted faces and false smiles approach him, and soon gives up, returning to his apartment cold and alone. He’s pretty sure it’s the alcohol because he pukes his guts out in the morning and swears off from ever going to a club again.

“MIYA !’

He only has time for a brief flash of shock between hearing his coach shout his name and feeling the impact of his teammate’s full weight against his shoulder that sends him sprawling across the floor. There’s a collective gasp from the crowd, but it’s not loud enough to drown out the sickening snap of bone ringing in his ears as he’s lying on the ground.

The sharp burst of pain stabbing his shoulder is enough for him to know what the doctors later confirm - a shattered collarbone. Complete rest for at least eight weeks is prescribed for a full recovery.

‘What were you thinking, Miya?’ his coach asks him exasperatedly when he’s discharged from the hospital.

‘I goofed’, he replies lamely. ‘Sorry, sir’.

It wouldn’t do to tell anyone that for a split second, he was distracted by the sight of a dark haired woman with bright eyes cheering at the top of the stands, a plump toddler balanced on her hip.

It’s close enough to the end of the competition season that his coach figures it’d be better for him to just cut his stay in Milan short and return to Japan early to recover properly. So he lands in the Osaka airport amidst a haze of rain, arm tucked in a sling. The airport staff are kind enough to help him wheel his bags out to the arrivals gate where he’s surprised to find Osamu waiting with a bored expression on his face.

‘I thought ya weren’t talkin’ to me’, Atsumu says.

Osamu snorts, taking hold of his bags. ‘Mum made me come and get ya, since you're useless with that busted collarbone of yours.’ Then he turns on his heel and matter of factly adds as he walks off - ‘Besides, you’ll end up stayin’ with me anyway - it’s not like you have a home of yer own.’

Atsumu opens his mouth to retort but shuts it with a snap.

‘You better hide in the kitchen if ya don’t have the guts to show yer ugly mug around her’, Osamu tells him at half past six in the evening, not even looking up from the tuna and spring onion onigiri he’s forming in his hands.

But Atsumu doesn’t. He tells himself it’s because he can’t bring himself to leave Shino’s side for a second more than he has to, not when he’s still drinking in the sight of her grown so, so big in the span of just a few months. The little girl had been confused at first, when both he and Osamu turned up at the childcare centre to pick her up, but after several minutes of coaxing her to recognise which one of them was Oto-san and Oji-san (the hair colour probably helped) and the bribe of a very elaborate doll (probably the main reason), she’d warmed up to him and refused to let go of his hand.

She pushes open the door to Onigiri Miya with a gentle smile on her face when Shino shrieks ‘Mama!’ at the top of her little lungs and rushes over to her, though it vanishes the instant she notices that it’s not Osamu playing with the little girl. He tries his best to ignore the stab of guilt in his chest when she takes an instinctive step back to yank Shino behind her legs.

‘You’re back’, she finally says, glancing at his arm resting in its sling.

‘Yeah…’ he responds, starting to sweat like he’s standing under the hottest stadium lights. ‘Ya look good’.

‘I know when you’re lying, Atsumu’, she sighs - and if he's being honest, she’s right. To the untrained eye, she looks perfectly put together, dressed in a pencil skirt and heels with her hair neatly tied back, but he knows her too well to be fooled. He can spot the pallor of her skin beneath her makeup, the droop of her shoulders, the downward tilt of her lips. But before he can formulate a response, she grabs Shino’s hand and turns to go, the little girl waving goodbye at him until they’re out of sight.

‘Wow. That was awkward.’ Osamu quips from over the counter. Atsumu can’t even find it in him to respond.

Osamu makes him work at his store in between his sessions of physiotherapy. ‘To keep ya out of trouble’ he says, and Atsumu doesn’t really mind, it still leaves him plenty of time to pick up Shino from childcare every day, and it certainly gives him the excuse to hang around Onigiri Miya when she stops by in the evenings.

He tries to make conversation with her - ‘That’s a new dress you’re wearing’, but is always rebuffed - ‘I bought this old thing years ago’, to Osamu’s endless amusement. She’d always enter the store with a fond smile on her face for Osamu (it makes him want to puke), and would immediately drop it the moment she meets his eyes.

He tells himself it’s normal, she used to be cold and standoffish to him before they started dating, that she’d come around after a while. But even when he tries a different tack (perhaps compliments don’t work on her like they used to before), asking her ‘how’s yer day’, she shoots him a look of distrust that cuts right through his smile - ‘Just tell me what you want, Atsumu. You’ve never bothered asking me that before’.

Osamu actually roars with laughter at that. Traitor.

‘Need help with that?’ Osamu comments after watching Atsumu struggle to reach the exercise tape on his back with his one good hand, stepping in after Atsumu gives a reluctant nod. But he immediately yelps in pain when Osamu decides to abandon all pretense of being gentle and yanks on the exercise tape viciously.

‘Just take off my skin while you're at it, why don't ya’ Atsumu whines. ‘It never used to hurt that much when she would help me after physiotherapy’.

‘She’s always been nicer to ya than ya deserve, fuckin’ scrub’. Osamu retorts, pulling at the remaining tape with increased vigour.

Atsumu bites his tongue through the pain, picking apart his brother’s words before replying - ‘Hey ‘Samu. She’s still really mad with me, isn’t she? D'you think she’ll ever forgive me?’

‘Have ya tried apologising to her, for starters?’

‘What?’ Atsumu asks, bewildered, before yelping - 'Wait - ouch!! What the hell that bloody hurt!?!?!'

‘You know - saying sorry? Owning up to your mistakes? Asking for forgiveness? You abandoned your wife and child for months - but I suppose that concept must be alien to you, shit stain.’

Osamu doesn’t give him a chance to respond, shaking his head as he walks away.

His pride is an ugly, misshapen lump in his throat that's so inflamed it's almost impossible to be swallowed, but he does so anyway, asking her if they can speak for a short while in the alley behind the shop, away from Osamu’s eavesdropping ears. She furrows her brows at his request, but follows him out without complaint.

It’s only when she’s standing before him in the dimly lit alleyway, the dying light of the setting sun reflecting a halo above her head that it hits him like a blow to the back of his head that he’s a fuckin’ idiot - how did he manage to convince himself to blame her for trying to get in his way of chasing his dreams. This is what he missed when he was living alone in his cold studio apartment in Milan - being able to return after trainings and matches to a cosy flat overflowing with her cheeky banter and his baby’s laughter.

Gods, he wants his family. He wants to come home.

But before he can pour out the apology he’d been preparing with Osamu’s help, she interrupts him by slapping a brown envelope into his chest.

‘Look, I’m not sure what you have to say to me, but frankly, I’m not sure we have much to say to each other anymore,’ she tells him impatiently, as he opens the envelope, a tidal surge of dread overwhelming him.

‘What's this’, he says blankly, even though the title on the very first page of the stack of papers trembling in his hands sets it out clearly - Rikon-Todoke. i.e. Divorce papers.

It spells out in clinical, cold words the terms of the proposed separation - dissolution of marriage by mutual consent, no request for alimony or compensation, legal custody to be granted to her with ample visitation rights for him. He would think it fair, if it were to apply to anyone but him.

‘But why?’ he rasps, chest burning from the knife that pierces him right through his heart.

She shifts forward, and the neon lights from the buildings surrounding them melding together to throw her face into sharp focus, her mouth curving upwards into something much harsher than a smile. It’s as if his departure acted as a whetstone, sharpening her edges, shaping her into a woman with hard eyes he can’t recognise.

‘You and both know it’s been a long time coming, hasn’t it Atsumu? You’ve made it quite clear that this marriage isn’t what you want out of life. In any case neither of us have really been happy even before you left, so we might as well be free from each other.’

At this, he shakes his head, parting his lips to object but she continues ruthlessly, her words slicing past his tissue thin excuses.

‘If anything, my time with you has taught me that it's impossible to stop the storm from destroying everything in its path. You can only try your best to outrun it, and this' - ’ she stabs a finger at the stack of papers shaking in his hands - ‘this is my attempt at outrunning you.’

It feels as if his world has somehow shifted, tilted upside down, turned inside out, his assumption that her taking him back would be an inevitable conclusion now disproven by the papers burning in his hands. He knows he’s hurt her beyond measure, but he never thought that his choice to chase what he thought were his dreams would leave him without the ground beneath his feet.

‘You don’t need to do anything else - just sign it and give it back to me soon. I think it’s better for all of us - you, me and Shino, if we divorce formally and lead our own separate lives’, he hears her say, turning to go.

Acting on instinct, his hand shoots out to grab her wrist and she flinches, the steel in her eyes crumbling to leave only frozen terror behind.

I could never hurt you, he wants to say, but doesn't - because he knows it's a lie.

Numbly, he releases his grip, letting his hand drop to his side.

He hears the door close behind him.

Osamu finds him hours later, crouched on the back steps to the shop, papers clenched in his hands. He takes the papers from him and mouths to himself while scanning through it, but there is no spark of surprise in his eyes.

‘Did ya know she planned on divorcing me, ‘Samu?’, Atsumu asks, swiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

‘I had a pretty good guess it was coming’, Osamu replies heavily.

‘Fuck’, Atsumu groans, dropping his head between his legs.

Osamu prods his side with the tip of his shoe. ‘It’s not that I want to kick a guy when he’s down, but she's your wife, not a toy you can toss aside and come back to after a few months, shit for brains. And if I’m being honest, it looks like you’re acting like a brat who only wants his toy back when someone else picks it up’.

Osamu’s response lights a fire in his chest, and he whirls to his feet, grabbing his twin by the front of his apron growling - ‘Whose side are ya on anyway?!’

Osamu looks at him calmly, uncharacteristically refusing to take his bait. ‘Well, it's not as if ya don't deserve it. You walked out on her and Shino for almost a year, Atsumu. I’ve been the one cleaning up yer mess like I’ve been doing my whole life - I’ve been the one picking Shino up from childcare, I had to accompany yer wife to the hospital when yer kid was down with a high fever - d'you still have to ask whose side I’m on?’

‘D'you love her, ‘Samu?’ Atsumu asks after a pause.

The twins stare at each other.

‘I love her like a sister, you asshole. And I hate that it’s my own brother causing her pain.’ Osamu eventually says, pushing him away.

The door slams behind him again.

The dark clouds above him rumble ominously. It starts to pour.

372 notes · View notes

reid-me-a-story · 4 years ago

Text

I Need a Doctor

Based on the song “Doctor” by Jack Stauber

Synopsis: Reader is pining after her best friend, but after a drunken night and a failed attempt at seduction things start to look up for her

A/N: This is my first ever fan-fiction and WOOF was it a beast! This is based off a song that reminded me of Spencer some how, see the lyrics below!

Although this is a self insert one-shot, reader is never introduced as (y/n), I personally find it distracting in fan fiction to have to skip over that so instead of (y/n) there is use of pet names when needed. Any defining features such as height , hair colour, etc. is not specified including weight - however Spencer does pick reader up. Smut is included but if you aren’t comfortable reading it then feel free to stop about halfway through when there’s a little breaker in the story!

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!reader* (please read content warnings!)

Category: Angst/smut[18+] (and a little bit of fluff, all around a pretty wholesome story)

Content warning: Idiots in love, unrequited love (happy ending I promise!), drinking, unprotected sex, breeding kink, oral (male and female receiving), Fingering, Swearing, use of pet names (baby, princess, Little girl), teensy bit of degradation. *Let me know if I missed any!!*

Word count: 4.2k

Lyrics: Verse: Sarah Vanessa, Jack Stauber]

I need a doctor, oh

I'm not a doctor but I think I might be able to help

It's not a simple symptom, no

My diagnosis is that no one has been treating you well

[Chorus: Sarah Vanessa, Jack Stauber]

So, what do you prescribe?

Love's the only medicine

Is this a lie?

No, take three of these a da-ay

Oh, I think I'm cured

Cool, are you alright on your own?

No, I'm not sure...

Okay

[Outro: Sarah Vanessa]

Oh, I think I'm sick again...

*gasp

After three years of pining after your co-worker and best friend you decided to try to fill the void caused but the unrequited love.

You knew you wanted to be with Spencer since your first day, however it seemed that all he wanted was a friend. You guys were close and spent a lot of time together but it never seemed to progress. You once thought about taking the reins and asking him out, thinking that maybe he was just nervous. You grossly misread that situation and thank god you didn’t ask because the next day you over heard him telling Derek about a girl he wanted to ask out.

After that you started to isolate yourself from Spencer. You loved him but he didn’t feel the same. Garcia and JJ tried to make you feel better by telling you that it would never last with this new girl. You wanted to believe it but actions speak louder than words. Not only were you keeping a bit more distance from Spencer but he seemed to be cancelling plans left and right.

While you never made any new plans you would always spend every Saturday together when you weren’t on a case. Sometimes you guys would do something as extravagant as a play or spending the day touring a museum exhibit - something you wouldn’t nearly be as interested in if Spencer wasn’t your tour guide. Other times your days would be spent watching old reruns of your favourite shows or having Spencer read to you. Those days were your favourite because listening to Spencer’s smooth melodic voice always seemed to calm you down even at your most stressed out.

Since you over heard Spencer tell Derek about this girl he wanted to ask out he’s been cancelling your Saturday plans. It didn’t bother you at first but it’s been almost 5 weeks and you’re getting quite hurt by it. He still talks to you at work or spends time with you when you are on cases and dismissed for the day but it’s not the same.

Today is Friday and Garcia came skipping through the glass doors straight for you. “Hello, my beautiful human! Since we have no case do you want to have a Girls night tonight? JJ and Emily are coming! Please come!” She begs.

You debated declining so you can spend your weekend in solitude, sulking over your best friend but the look in Garcia’s eyes made you reconsider. “Okay sure, where are we going?”

Penelope squealed “Ahh! Okay awesome! We’re going to be going to this cute little Italian restaurant and then heading next door to this bar! It has really good Yelp reviews and - OOH maybe we can get you a hunk to take home tonight and-“

That got Spencer’s attention and his head whipped up to look at Penelope. While his eyes darted over to you to gauge your reaction to Penelope’s comment, you both locked eyes. You thought you saw him silently beg you not to go out tonight but you ignored it and stood up.

Penelope was still chattering away while you were packing up so you can go home to freshen up. You really didn’t want to get set up with some random guy but it might fill the void that is still there. Once Penelope gives you an opening you ask her what time to be ready for. She tells you that she will pick you up at 7. You thank her and head home.

Once you pass the barrier to your apartment you relax your shoulders, not realizing how tense you had been all day. The dread of going out tonight started to really sink in. If you were being honest with yourself you would have loved to have spent the night sitting in silence reading a book that reminded you of anything except Spencer but instead you agreed to go out and get drunk with your co-workers. Great.

You hop into the shower and take your time drying your hair. Just as you finish putting your makeup on and getting dressed Garcia texts you that she’s outside. You throw on your jacket and slip your heels on and walk outside.

After a really nice dinner you found yourself 6 shots in at the bar next door. You were fending off a really persistent guy when your phone goes off. You notice that it’s Spencer and you’re able to use it as an excuse to get away from the guy thats hitting on you. Despite how much you want to fill the emptiness that you feel without him you don’t want to just sleep around to do it.

You step outside into the cool air and answer your phone. “Hello, Doctor” you slur

“Hey... I - I uh...” Spencer stutters. You can tell he wants to say something but instead of waiting your tipsy mind forced the words out of your mouth

“I need a Doctor” you were attempting to be seductive but based on Spencer’s reaction you figured it didn’t come across right away

“Oh my god, stay where you are I’m going now” then the call drops.

“Shit” you say to yourself. You head back in to the girls. This is the last thing you wanted. Or is it? You’ve been dying to spend time with him outside of work for weeks. It sucks that you’re drunk for it but by the time he shows up and comes inside you are absolutely buzzing with excitement.

Spencer looks around the bar quickly for you. Before he locks eyes with you, you try to take in his appearance. He looks worried, his hair is messy and his curls look like they’ve been stretched by his hands running through them. Once he looks at you his shoulders relax and he lets out a deep breath.

“Hi” he breathes once he reaches you, he looks relieved to see you look physically okay.

“Hi Dr. Reid, fancy seeing you here” you slur and reach out to touch his arm. Before you make contact though you pull back; knowing how he is about touch. He ignores that and pulls you in for a bone crushing hug.

“I was worried about you” he whispers into your hair. Your heart starts beating faster the longer he holds onto you and you bury your face in his chest, inhaling his scent. He always smells good to you, like old paper and coffee. He smells like home and you start to tear up.

He feels you shudder and pulls back and notices your tears. “Hey, hey, what’s going on are you okay? Didn’t you say you needed a Doctor?”

“Oh yea,” you whisper “ typical drunk girl crying, it’s no big deal. Aren’t you a Doctor? I just need you”

“Do you want me to drive you home?”

You shake your head “Can I stay over at your place instead?”

He looks hesitant but agrees nonetheless. You both wave goodbye to the girls and he leads you out to his car by the small of your back. When you get to the car Spencer opens the door for you and makes sure you’re buckled in before going and sliding into the drivers seat. You turn on the radio at a low volume so you don’t have to sit in the awkward silence.

Once you get to his apartment he gets out and walks around to open your door. You get out and he leads the way upstairs. You make your way inside and as soon as you pass the threshold of his front door you don’t know what to say. He’s the first to break the silence. “Do you want some water? Maybe some Tylenol? If might help you feel better”

“O-okay” you stutter. You follow him into his kitchen and take the glass filled with water from him. You take a huge sip and put the glass down.

Just when he opens his mouth to say something you blurt out the question that’s been burning in your mind since it happened, “Spencer, why did you call me?”

He opens and closes his mouth a few times before saying “It’s stupid really, don’t worry about it,” and before you’re able to respond he asks “ Do you want some clothes to change into? Might be more comfortable than what you have on”

You nod and he leaves, he comes back in a few minutes with a button up Pyjama shirt with little dinosaurs on them with matching pants. You go to walk away but he grabs your hand. You turn to look at him when he pulls you into a hug again. “I miss you” he whispers.

The admission makes your eyes prick with tears. Instead of saying anything through your scratchy throat you just nod and hug him tighter. You both stand like that for a few moments before you pull away. Your skin is on fire from his touch and you can’t stand it anymore. You advert yourself eyes from him so you don’t have to look at him trying to read your thoughts through your eyes. You’re afraid he would hear the truth in your thoughts about how much you love him.

You slip into the bathroom to change quickly and when you emerge you find Spencer standing by the bed waiting for you. When he hears the door open he looks at you and you can hear him take a deep breath. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it” he whispers under his breath.

Trying not to break the silence too much you whisper back, “Get used to what?”

All the time in the world could not have given you the preparation to hear the next words that he chose to say.

“How effortless beautiful you look.”

“WHAT?” Your inner voice screams. Tears prick the corners of your eyes for the third time that night. “Please don’t Spencer.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t say things like that and expect me not to love you”, You say just barely above a whisper.

Spencer closes the distance between you and gently pushes a few loose strands of your hair behind your ear. You try to keep your eyes on your hands that you hold between you and Spencer but he pulls your attention to his eyes. “What if that’s what I want?”

Before you can respond he closes the final distance between you two. His lips are soft and full against yours. His hands move to your hair and yours gravitate to his shoulders. He tastes like coffee and mints and the taste is almost as intoxicating as the liquor you drank earlier in the night.

You push him back towards the bed and he sits on the end. You go to straddle him but he stops you with a hand in your waist. “We shouldn’t..”

“Oh.. y-yea, I understand” you say defeated.

“Oh god, no. Trust me. I want to- I want to so bad but you’re drunk and you’re not thinking clearly. I’ve wanted this for so long you don’t understand but I’d don’t want you to wake up and regret anything-“

You cut his rambling off with a kiss and he immediately relaxes. You pull back with a sigh and a tiny smile while nodding in understanding.

Spencer stands up, kissing your forehead before disappearing into the bathroom. You start to head out into the living room when you hear him call out “Where are you going?”

“To sleep on the couch, I don’t want to intrude.”

“The beds big enough for the both of us,” he states before quickly adding with a small blush, “I- uh- unless you aren’t comfortable with that”

You blush in return and slowly pad your way over to Spencer’s bed. You pull back the covers off your side and slide in, Spencer stretches out his long legs, reaching over and pulling you into him by your waist. You rest your head in his chest and start dozing off to the sound of his heart beating.

Just before you succumb to your sleep you hear him whisper into your head “I love you”

———

You wake up to the smell of coffee and the Saturday morning sun beaming through the windows. You go to stretch out and realize that you’re not at home but instead at Spencer’s, in his bedroom, in his clothes. Last nights confessions flood your memory and you smile to yourself. He loves you. Spencer Reid loves you.

Despite your pounding headache you can’t help but jump out of bed and pad into the kitchen. You see Spencer standing by his coffee maker. As soon as he spots you his eyes fill with something you just can’t quite place, and a small smile lights his face. You slowly step towards him and jump onto the counter, sitting right next to the coffee maker.

“Good morning” you say as softly as possible, as to not disturb the peacefulness of the morning.

Instead of answering in words, Spencer laces his fingers into your hair and pulls you forward to kiss you softly. When you both break away to replace the air in your lungs he finally speaks, “Good morning, beautiful. How do you feel? How’s your head?”

“No complaints” You joke, while winking at him.

The innuendo is lost on him for a few seconds before he laughs and says “No you dork! Your headache!”

“Ah, I’ll manage. Is there enough coffee there for me?”

“Always, anything for you”

You two drink your coffee in silence; with you playing with Spencer’s free hand, and him trying to memorize every second of this morning. Spencer finishes his coffee first and places his cup down on the counter. With his now empty hand, he starts playing with your hair, running his hands through the soft locks.

You soon finish your cup and pull him to stand in between your legs. “I think,” you say sneakily “I think I need a doctor”

“What do you mean?” Spencer asks

“Hmmm well I think you might be able to help me, Doctor” you whisper in his ear while running your hands up and down his chest. You hear his breathing start to get heavy. When your nails get close to the waistband of his sweats his breath catches in his throat and a soft moan escapes instead.

“What seems to be the problem?” He says, voice low and husky.

“Mmmm” you sigh “Well Doctor, my symptoms aren’t simple, think you can handle it?”

“I don’t think anyone has been treating you right.” He moans softly again as one of your hands start to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck.

“So what do you prescribe, Dr. Reid?”

“Me.” He claims before slamming his mouth against yours. The kiss is hungry and Spencer quickly dominates it. His hand move from your hair down to you waist and the other hand moves to the front of your borrowed sleepwear, pulling at the drawstrings. You feel heat bloom between your thighs. You never expected him to be so aggressive but you loved it. You loved him, and you wanted him- now.

“Mm Spencer, please..” you moan between heated kisses.

Spencer chuckles and starts kissing down your jaw and neck “What baby? What do you need” he mumbles against your skin.

“You.” You moan breathlessly. He growls against the skin of your neck while slowly sliding his hand into your pyjamas. Once he reaches the waistband of your underwear he pulls back to look into your eyes - silently asking for consent.

“Please, Spencer. I need you! Please!” He smiles and reaches into your underwear and is fingers slide past your folds feeling the wetness from how turned on you were.

He moans when he feels you. “Oh wow baby, you’re so wet. Is this all for me?”

“Yes Spence, all for you.” You breathe out between a soft moan.

“Good. You’re mine, baby” he finally sides one of his long fingers between your folds and starts pumping his hand slowly- curling a finger up to press against that sweet spot inside of you, causing a guttural moan to leave your throat. He withdraws his hand and you whine at the loss. He gives you a look and its intensity stops any sounds from escaping except for soft pants.

He signalled for you to lift your hips and he pulled you towards the edge of the counter. He pushed your knees apart and kneeled down. The sight of Spencer looking up at you between your legs almost made you finish right there and then - you let out a low groan. He chuckles and moves forwarded starts nipping at your inner thigh, never taking his eyes off you.

He kisses everywhere except where you want him. Whines escape your mouth before you can stop them and you can feel him smile against your leg. Finally showing you a little bit of mercy and finally licked a thick stripe up in between your folds. Spencer lean out a low moan against your sex, “You taste so good, baby”

Your back arches and you throw your head back. Your breathing picks up and one of your hands grip his hair. You tug on his Chestnut curls - hard “Spencer, please! more… fuck - please!”

“What do you need princess?”

“You, Spence! Pl - uhh - Please!” You scream at him.

“Anything for you,” he adds, before adding two fingers in the mix. He thrusts his fingers in and up towards that spot inside you while flicking his tongue over your clit. Your eyes roll back and you let out a deep moan. You never thought that your best friend, the man who is perpetually awkward around women would be this good. Looking down towards him you see that his eyes haven’t left you - its like he’s trying to memorize every movement your body makes. The knowledge of Spencer watching you come undone combined with the pleasure coursing through your veins sends a wave of euphoria crashing over you.

“Fuck!” You scream out as you ride out your orgasm, one of the most intense of your life if you’re being honest. When you finally come down and try to catch your breath you look down towards where Spencer is and his eyes are wide while staring at you.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful, baby” He jumps up and crashes his lips on yours and you can taste yourself on his lips and tongue. You moan into his mouth and reach down towards the waistband of his sweats pulling them down with his boxers. You watch his cock spring up and slightly gawk at the size of him. He’s bigger than anyone you’ve been with and you tell him as much. Before he can respond you jump down off the counter while pushing him towards the wall beside you so he has some sort of support.

You lick a thick stripe from the base of his shaft before leaving a small kiss to the tip, tasting the salty pre-cum. You take the head into your mouth and hollow out your cheeks while taking more in. What you can’t fit in your mouth you pump with your hand.

You look up at Spencer through your lashes; he’s looking back down at you, with his hand balled into a fist pressed up against his mouth. You hate that he’s silencing himself from you so you reach up and grab his hand to place it at the back of your head - giving him permission to fuck your face at his pace. He’s trying to be gentle but after a few strokes with you hollowing your cheeks he can’t help but buck his hips further into your mouth - causing you to gag. You swallow around him and he slides deeper. Your nails are digging into his thighs leaving ten, small angry red crescent moon indents behind. He thrusts slightly deeper causing you to gag and tears to slide down your face, “come on baby, I know you can take me deeper”

At the sound of his voice you hum, causing his hips to buck into your mouth again. “Fuck!” He pulls out and continues “Don't wanna cum there. I wanna fill you up baby. Do you want that? Do you want me to fill that tight little cunt up?”

You moan and nod excitedly and Spencer grips the back of your thighs, signalling you to jump. He carries you into the bedroom with you laying kisses and leaving marks over his jaw and neck. You find a sensitive spot just below his ear that causes his breath to get caught in his throat. Once you both enter the room he places you gently on the bed, climbing in-between your legs and kissing your lips and down towards your neck. He starts to unbutton your pyjama shirt while leaving small red and purple love bites over your neck and chest. Once he finally removed the last article of clothing on you he takes a step back to admire your body. Usually this would cause you to be self-conscious; meaning you would usually cover yourself with your hands or a blanket. Something in Spencers eyes calmed you and made you relax. He made you feel beautiful just by the look in his eyes - and he said so in just as many words, “ You’re so beautiful baby, do you know that?”

“Please Spence, I need you inside me! I need you to fuck me right now or else I might die…” You whine

“Well, we can’t have that” He chuckles. Spencer pulls off his t-shirt and kneels in-between your legs, pulling one over his shoulder, one hand on your thigh and the other on your waist, He thrusts in and bottoms out completely - causing you to yell out in surprise. “You make such pretty noises baby… how many more can I get out of you, huh?”

Spencer sets a brutal pace, thrusting into you deeper than you thought was possible. Your hands desperately try to grab anything to hold on to. One settles on the hand gripping your waist tightly, surely leaving bruises that you could only hope would last. Your other hand reaches forward - scratching your nails down his chest and leaving red welts behind in its wake - causing Spencer to let out a guttural moan. He leans forward, dropping your leg to his elbow to relieve the pressure, and kisses you deeply. His hand leaves your waist and he presses his thumb to your bundle of nerves, pressing slightly and rubbing small circles over it. �� I want you to come for me baby. come on little girl, you can do it”

You couldn’t defy him even if you wanted to. Your body gave into his wishes and crashed into the wall at full speed. Spencer kept the same pace as he fucked you though your orgasm. “Oh what a good girl. come on baby, one more for me…”

“One mo-ore? Spenc-! Fuck!”

“Yes, one more beautiful. Fuck- I know you can do it baby. One more and I’ll fill you up with my cum. You’d - fuck!- like that, huh? You’d like - ugh - to be my dirty… little …cum-slut… wouldn’t you?”

Your eyes rolled back at his words. You could barely believe what you were hearing. His words sent you over the edge for your third and final time. Your entire body shuddered from overstimulation and pleasure. Spencer moaned loudly and you felt him twitch inside you, his cock painting your walls with his cum. Just as he starts to pull out you reach forward and beg with wide eyes “No! Stay! I want you to keep it in me, please Spence, please! I need-“

He cuts you off with a kiss and presses back into you, holding you as close as he can - trying to follow your wishes. After a few minutes he started to soften, he slowly pulled out of you despite your protests. He shushed you with a few quick kisses to your lips and quickly ran to the washroom to get a damp washcloth. He wiped between your legs as gently as he could without overstimulating you too much.

Spencer flopped down beside you, grabbing you and pulling you into his side. He starts slowly kissing your lips, cheeks, forehead - really anywhere his lips could reach without having to let go of you. You giggle a little bit as he gets to a ticklish spot on your neck. “Well Doctor, I think I’m cured. I guess you were right, I just needed you”

“And three orgasms,” he deadpanned.

You both laugh a little at that. You look at him and that same look is in his eyes from before. You’re finally able to place it. “I love you, Spence.”

His eyes shine a little brighter and he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours. “I love you more, beautiful girl”

112 notes · View notes

springday-aus · 4 years ago

Text

Enemies to Lovers!AU with Xiaojun

—

Group: NCT [+ WayV]

Member: Xiaojun / Xiao Dejun

Genre: fluff, comedy, romance

Type: Bulletpoint AU

Word Count: approx. 2.4k

so, you’re Xiaojun’s enemy (he thinks of it more of his number one attacker tho)

it wasn’t hard considering he’s always on fight or flight mode and considering his friend group….

fight mode is always activated

(ง’̀-‘́)ง

so it started when you became friends with Ten

the guy is so sociable, so you were bound to meet him and his other friends someday

but jesus christ, there were soooo many of them

it was a party; he threw a literal party of just him and his friends

and then there were others who turned it into a rave (i.e. Hendery, Yangyang, Chenle and Donghyuk)

anyways, you got to mingle and make so many new friends

it was going really well

until Xiaojun entered the picture

things went well with him too, until you made a joke that didn’t exactly land with him

but it landed well with the others

Lucas: “who in their right mind would like mint chocolate”

Xiaojun: “but I like mint chocolate”

You: “then you’re not in your right mind lmao”

YangYang: “I mean, is Xiaojun ever in his right mind tho”

everyone laughs

except for one person

Xiaojun stood up, staring you down for a hot second, before trying to argue back

in which YangYang was the main responder

you didn’t really think much of it, laughing away with the others

but, to him, you just declared war that day

it shouldn’t have bothered him as much as it did

but it did

so, from then on, things just got rockier

bc he started picking fights with you over the littlest things or he would argue with your points no matter what

you didn’t really think much of it bc he was also being picked on everyone else and you were like

every man for themselves huh

it wasn’t until he personally attacked you

it happened on Halloween

and he made an underhanded comment about how he’d look better in anything compared to you

so you made a “friendly” bet

but then you lost

bc Xiaojun looked better in the Jasmine costume than you and he def knew it too

and when he smirked at you

the grudge had been built

that’s probably when the mutual enemy status circulated around your friends

although, if they’re being honest, it’s so entertaining

especially since most of them like to gang up on Xiaojun too

and because of that unity, it’s only made things worse

from what the others can tell

you two don’t hate each other, but you def don’t get along

it ranges to food (e.g. mint chocolate chip incident that NO ONE lets go)

Lucas: “mint choco ain’t shit”

You: “retweet”

Xiaojun: “the attacks”

YangYang: “we cannot trust a man who eats bread with fucking lao gan ma”

You: “you eat what with bread?”

Xiaojun: “shut up. all of you.”

to activities

cue you two fighting about what movie to watch

Xiaojun: “Titanic is a classic!!!”

You: “it’s a joke, there was rOOM ON THE FUCKING DOOR”

Xiaojun: “IT’S ROMANTIC. HE SACRIFICED HIMSELF SO SHE CAN LIVE.”

You: “THAT’S NOT ROMANTIC. THAT’S SUICIDAL, DUMBASS.”

this feud is def bc you’re both petty as fuck

the bickering is nonstop

but, if the nct boys are being honest

they’re lowkey confused bc Xiaojun is supposed to have a really high emotional tolerance

he doesn’t even yell this much at YangYang or Ten

(excluding that one time he hit YangYang with that pillow very hard)

but he does blow off his top when it comes to you

which is sus to a lot of the boys

whenever someone does ask him tho

he just kind of……………

mumbles underneath his breath and then moves onto something else

meanwhile, Yuta: “isn’t he always like that?”

Kun: “who wants to tell him”

lmao, I’m kidding

kind of

anyways, you two are really just going at it

what changes?

you have to go to the dentist and get your molars removed

which means someone has to take you and go pick you up

obviously, Ten was going to do that, considering you two were the closest

so he dropped you off and you had your surgery

so what happened?

welp, your buddy Ten forgot he had a prior engagement and, hence, was unable to pick you up

cue him spamming the groupchat

and Lucas exposing Xiaojun

Lucas: Xiaojun isn’t doing anything Xiaojun: you don’t know that Lucas: I do tho, go pick up (Y/N) Ten: I’ll buy you anything from that green tea cafe you like for a week Xiaojun: deal.

so he came to pick you up, both willingly and unwillingly

and you……. you were more than a hot mess

you were just a mess

you basically were just blacked out that entire time after they gave you the laughing gas and completed the surgery

so you remembered absolutely nothing.

your roommate: “this is what you get for doing drugs”

You: “IT WAS PURELY FOR MEDICINAL USE”

You: “IT’S NOT LIKE I DID CRACK”

either way, your roommate let you know of the situation, taking note of how your enemy had to take you home

which

again

no recollection

your roommate: “he’s fucking hot tho”

You: “ugh, I know”

but that’s also when you decided

Ten is a dead man :)

Ten: “I’M SORRY”

You: “YOU BETTER FUCKING BE”

Ten: “I KNOW”

Ten: “............................................but………………………………….”

Ten: “maybeyoushouldalsothankhimfortakingcareofyou”

You: “sorry not sorry, I’m contemplating murder rn”

Hendery: “what do you call a murder against a friend?”

Kun: “don’t”

Ten:

You:

Hendery: “it’s a homie-cide”

You and Ten: “NOT NOW”

anyways

you knew he was right

so after you calmed down, you went to Xiaojun’s place (thanks to Ten), with some sweets to thank him

Lucas opened the door, let you in, and left to go to the gym with Sicheng

Xiaojun came out of his room, a couple of minutes after, disheveled from his nap

and when he saw you in his living room couch, his eyes widened, darting around to avoid looking at you

You: “hi”

Xiaojun: “hello”

You: “why do you look so scared? I’m not gonna jump you”

he stays quiet, the blush becoming more apparent on his cheeks

You: “Ten told me you took me home after my surgery, so…………………… thanks”

Xiaojun: “he bribed me with pastries”

You: yeah, sounds about right

You: “still”

You: “um, I didn’t know what you would like, so I brought some sweets you can just go through”

Xiaojun: “thanks”

it’s silent for another moment and you consider bolting out from the apartment, Wizards of Waverly Place, Harper-style: “see ya in p.e.!” kind of a thing

but he speaks up once more

Xiaojun: “are you feeling okay now?”

You: “uh, yeah, my jaw still kind of hurts”

You: “but I have meds they prescribed to me for the next month or so”

he decides to stop beating the bush:

Xiaojun: “so do you remember what happened yesterday?”

You: “to be completely honest, no”

Xiaojun: “you… did a lot of things”

You: “what do you mean I did a lot of things”

Xiaojun: “you also said a lot of things too”

You: “..... are these things recorded?”

Xiaojun: “maybe”

Xiaojun: “some”

You: “dELETET HEM”

you actually considered tackling him, but deemed as too Yang-Yang-like

You: “what did I say”

Xiaojun: “I didn’t realize you thought I was handsome”

You: “wait what?”

Xiaojun: “you said, you had a crush on my ‘fine ass’”

You: “you know what? I think I’m gonna pull a Jack and commit suicide, goodbye”

Xiaojun: “ah, ah, ah, you said like, which is… present tense”

You: “semantics”

Xiaojun: “but did you like me at some point?”

You: “does it matter?”

Xiaojun: “yeah, it kind of does”

Xiaojun: “bc even tho we bicker, it’s, like, our thing”

Xiaojun: “plus, you’re kind of cute when you’re threatening to rip off my eyebrows”

You: “I did what?”

Xiaojun: “it’s no different from how you treat me now”

You: “I thought it’s because you don’t like me”

he just kind of shrugs, rubbing his neck rather sheepishly

Xiaojun: “you’ve seen my friends; arguing is our way of showing our affections”

You: “so, you’re saying this is your way of telling me you like me?”

Xiaojun: “I mean………“

Xiaojun: “are you saying you like me?”

You: “are you saying you like me?”

*cue another argument about who likes who*

eventually, he found a way to shut you up

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

cut to Lucas and Sicheng coming back from the gym to you and Xiaojun making out on the couch

Lucas: “NASTY”

Sicheng: “what did we…. miss?”

Ten somewhere: I fucking called it.

anyways

you both decided to date that day

and you two still bicker an insane amount, which includes you nitpicking Xiaojun’s tastes to Xiaojun refusing to delete those videos of you under the laughing gas despite your threats

but, the only difference is, your arguments can end with a kiss

and it always freaks out the guys whenever you do

Donghyuk: “I’m too young to be seeing this monstrosity”

Mark: “ngl, this is nice for them—they’ve stopped arguing”

YangYang: “I weirdly prefer them arguing over them with those sappy eyes tho”

You: “we can hear you”

Chenle: “but when have we ever cared?”

You: “I’m gonna beat your ‘01 liner ass istg—”

Xiaojun: “calm”

oh, you know what’s fun about your relationship?

you two can’t agree on some stuff right?

so whenever you have to decide something, say a movie or dinner, you two just heads-or-tails it

(there’s also this cute app where you put your options on a wheel and let that decide—the amount of times you’ve used that on your dates…… anyways)

most of the time, on these dates, you seem more like an old married couple and it’s super cute

it’s bc you’re already used to your worse sides coming out—the really petty ones, the screaming ones, the ugly ones

ofc these aren’t from serious arguments that occur

(remember folks, it isn’t healthy for you and your partner to always be fighting)

but when serious arguments do occur, you both take time to sit down and talk face-to-face

it’s hard to get into actual arguments with him, especially since he really is understanding and tries to pay attention to the smaller details

Xiaojun: “I like learning more about you”

You: “you can’t just say that kind of shit to me”

like, yeah, he’ll debate with you all night about why he needs to read the words of his book out loud but, by the end of the day, you’ll lay your head in his lap and listen to his voice as you fall asleep

speaking of which, you love listening to him sing to you

he gets a bit embarrassed sometimes about it, but seeing you smile so brightly at him makes him forget about it

because even tho you two bicker about little things, in the end, it just makes you two laugh at one another and how ridiculous you’re being

I almost forgot, so Ten thinks of him pairing you two off right?

so, whenever he does something annoying to either of you, he’ll constantly bring it up

Ten: “I guess this is how you two treat me, your personal cupid—”

Xiaojun: “yes, yes, we are grateful for you”

You: “but it would be nice if you would stop making those annoying sounds”

Ten: “what annoying sounds?”

YangYang: “that’s just you talking”

okay, no, but yeah—the nct boys are glad this rivalry is over because it was really just…. stupid to the core

but also bc you two look super sweet together and seeing you two making each other happy rather than annoyed is adorable

but just bc you two got together doesn’t mean the pettiness isn’t still there

You: “what type of freak sleeps with their eyes opened?”

Xiaojun: “I’m sleeping next to you, of course I need to keep both eyes open”

You: “RUDE”

Xiaojun: “and yet here we are”

You: “son of a bitch”

Xiaojun: “YOUR son of a bitch”

You: “eh, I’ll take it”

63 notes · View notes

lcdrarry · 5 years ago

Photo

LCDrarry 2020 Master List

Dear lovely Participants, Creators, Alpha and Beta Readers, Commentors, Cheerleaders, Readers and Fans of our fest,

Our 2nd installment of LCDrarry is coming to an end, and we'd like to thank you all for taking part in our little fest, for creating so many amazing new Drarry works for us all to enjoy, for commenting on your favourite creations, for sharing and recommending the LCDrarry gems with your friends and blog followers, and for making this fest another amazing experience for us mods.

We hope we could bring you some joy and diversion in these trying times and send you lots of love, strength and perseverance wherever you are :*

Under the cut, you can find out who created what ;D The works are listed in the order they posted during the fest.

Happy reading & squeeing & don’t forget to follow your favourite creators!

~Your LCDrarry Mods Tami @celilasart and Suzi @erin-riwen

PS: Reblogs are very much appreciated <3

***

Love, Actually, is All Around

Prompt: #180 | "Love, Actually" - 2003 - Richard Curtis Author: punk_rock_yuppie Word Count: 9,975 words Rating: Teen and Up Warnings: Wizarding Politics, Discriminiation, Slight power imbalance

Summary: It's Christmastime, and Harry has just started as the new Minister of Magic. It just so happens that Draco happens to work in his office as well, a holdover from Kingsley's tenure. Naturally, love is in the air.

Read "Love, Actually, is All Around" now on AO3.

***

Drarry on Ice

Prompt: #150 | '"Yuuri!!! On Ice" - 2016 - Series Artist: RunningOutsideTheLines Art Medium: Traditional Art Rating: General Warnings: none

Summary: Harry and Draco find love on the ice. I love Yuuri on Ice and Harry and Draco seem like such a perfect fit for Victor and Yuuri. I'll leave it up to your imagination as far as which is which. This image is from the final scene when the two of them do a exhibition skate together.

View "Drarry on Ice" now on AO3.

***

Boats, but Not the Ocean

Prompt: #203 | "Groundhog Day" - 1993 - Harold Ramis Author: p1013 Word Count: 15,551 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Very minor mention of suicide, some mild horror

Summary: If Draco ever gets his hands on this Bill Murray character, he's going to kill him.

Read "Boats, but Not the Ocean" now on AO3.

***

When I Put My Eyes On You

Prompt: #193 | "The Way He Looks" - 2014 - Daniel Ribeiro Author: Zzzara Word Count: 31,155 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Summary: When a hero defeats a villain, there's supposed to be a happily-ever-after... but when did anything ever happen to Harry Potter the way it was supposed to? Having sacrificed himself to the greater good, Harry is left alone in the darkness, blindly groping for the shreds of the life he knew. When the enemies meet, how is the story supposed to go, once they learn there's more to it than the eye can see? A story of pain, hope and things we discover, once we stop looking for them with our eyes.

Read "When I Put My Eyes On You" now on AO3.

***

Spellbound

Prompt: #113 | "Overboard" - 1987 - Garry Marshall Author: mortenavida Word Count: 15,878 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: Amnesiac Draco Malfoy, Widowed Harry Potter, past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Dub-Con due to Amnesia (Only Kissing)

Summary: It’s been years since Harry left with Ginny to get away from the bad memories of war. The small town of Elk Cove, Oregon, had been a perfect place to raise their children. Now widowed, Harry works hard to make sure his children never want for anything. When an old rival steps into his life, everything changes and Harry finds the perfect opportunity to get back at Malfoy for everything the Slytherin did to him -- if he doesn’t regret falling for him first.

Read "Spellbound" now on AO3.

***

Of Labcoats and Animagi

Prompt: #97 | "Queer Eye" - 2017 - Series Author: meandminniemcg Word Count: 10,868 words Rating: Mature Warnings: mention of past abuse, panic attack (tw at beginning of chapter, can be skipped)

Summary: Fashion icon Draco? That's long past. After the war, he never bought any new clothes and lives in his labcoats. When he doesn't feel confident enough to meet his pen friend Prongs in real life, Luna decides to stage an intervention with a little help from the Fab Five.

Read "Of Labcoats and Animagi" now on AO3.

***

Title of Their Sex Tape

Prompt: #112 | "Brooklyn Nine Nine" - 2013 - Series Author: Cibee Word Count: 12,428 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: None

Summary: What are the Wizarding world's most elite law enforcers doing when they aren't catching criminals? It seems Auror Malfoy is often caught throwing food into Auror Potter's mouth when he's mid-yawn. This story isn't about Draco throwing food at Harry. What it does have is: Undercover! Heists! Draco pining for Harry! Harry being oblivious, but also can't help noticing how good Draco smells! Banters and jokes! That's about it.

Read "Title of Their Sex Tape" now on AO3.

***

Harry Potter and the Beast

Prompt: #204 | "Beauty and the Beast" - 1991 - Gary Trousdale Author/Artist: Miakagrewup Word Count/Art Medium: 5,655 words/31 illustrated pages Rating: General Warnings: None

Summary: Arrogant prince Draco is cursed to live as a terrifying beast until he finds true love. This fairy tale consists of 31 fully illustrated pages.

Read "Harry Potter and the Beast" now on AO3.

***

So Open Up My Eyes, Tell Me I'm Alive

Prompt: #191 | "Secret Garden" - 1993 - Agnieszka Holland Author: mycucumbereyes Word Count: 12,865 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: trauma, canon typical violence, homophobia, use of f-g/f----t, mention of suicidal thoughts, character with a disability

Summary: When Draco Malfoy comes to live at Godric’s Hollow, he finds it full of secrets. One night he hears the sound of crying…

Read "So Open Up My Eyes, Tell Me I'm Alive" now on AO3.

***

i demand to dig my own grave

Prompt: #10 | "Psych" - 2006 - Series Author: M0stlyVoid Word Count: 20,836 words Rating: Mature Warnings: None

Summary: Draco finds himself in hot water with the Aurors, and in a burst of panicked inspiration manages to wiggle out of it by claiming to be a Seer. There's just one little problem– Senior Auror Harry Potter, the Prat Who Lived, who's known him for a decade, knows full well Draco doesn't have a single psychic bone in his body and seems determined to pull him up for it. Now, the Department is demanding he help them solve cases, Potter's looming over his shoulder at every turn, and worst of all, he hasn't had a shag in weeks because of all this bother. What's a pseudo-Seer to do?

Read "i demand to dig my own grave" now on AO3.

***

As You Wish

Prompt: #37 | "The Princess Bride" - 1987 - Rob Reiner Author: Pineau_noir Word Count: 21,917 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: Canon-typical (Harry Potter and The Princess Bride) violence, mention of suicide, canon-typical character death

Summary: Draco was raised on a farm in the small country of Witshire; his favourite pastimes were flying on his broom and tormenting the hired farm boy. Though his name was Harry, Draco never called him that. On Harry's forehead there was a scar shaped like a lightning bolt, so Draco called him Scarhead. Nothing gave Draco as much pleasure as ordering Harry around.

Or a story about fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, True Love, and miracles.

Read "As You Wish" now on AO3.

***

Queer Eye for the Drarry Guys

Prompt: #97 | "Queer Eye"- 2017 - Series Author: blowfish_diaries Word Count: 18,201 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: none

Summary: Teddy's dads are great! Really! They just need a little push from five *fabulous* gays to get them to see what's right in front of them.

Read "Queer Eye for the Drarry Guys" now on AO3.

***

Casecation

Prompt: #112 | "Brooklyn Nine Nine" - 2013 - Series Author: Mfingenius Word Count: 4,293 words Rating: Teen and up Warnings: AU, canon-typical discussion of heavy topics, discussion of mpreg

Summary: "Draco Malfoy, I swear to God-” Hermione snaps under her breath, causing Draco to laugh lowly as he ducks under a hanging plant pot. “Draco Potter, ‘Mione,” Harry murmurs with a helpless grin; they’re not really supposed to be speaking – they're walking through the halls of Antonin Dolohov’s beach house, on their way to arrest him – but Harry can’t help marking the difference, even a year after they got married. “Be quiet,” Ginny says, rolling her eyes. “If he hears us and escapes-” Draco signals at them, and they all steel themselves for when he throws the door of the bedroom open. “Shit!”

Read "Casecation" now on AO3.

***

Don't Blink!

Prompt: #179 | "Dr Who" - 2007 - Series Author/Artist: Gnarf Art Medium: Digital art Rating: General Warnings: None

Summary: Harry had always had exceptionally bad timing. It's not different this time.

Read "Don't Blink!" now on AO3.

***

A Demon and an Angel Visit the Ritz

Prompt: #167 | “Good Omens” - 2019 - Series Artist: ravenclawkward Art Medium: Digital Oil Painting Rating: General Warnings: None

Summary: Harry the demon and Draco the angel just finished saving the world. They've earned their celebration, wouldn't you say?

Read "A Demon and an Angel Visit the Ritz" now on AO3.

***

Change on the Horizon

Prompt: #57 | "Shameless (US)" - 2011 - Series Author: static_abyss Word Count: 118,645 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Character with depression, mentions of not wanting to exist and lethargy, though no actual suicide or mentions of suicide. Unhealthy coping mechanisms, specifically not taking prescribed medication for depression. Internalized homophobia, and general homophobia from parental figures, though there is a happy ending. Casual relationships.

Summary: A canon AU drarry fic based on the relationship between Mickey and Ian from Shameless. A story about the aftereffects of the Second Wizarding War and how Draco and Harry come together and break apart over and over. How maybe, somewhere along the way, they find a way to live with themselves.

Read "Change on the Horizon" now on AO3.

***

The Thrill of the Chase Moves in Mysterious Ways

Prompt: #192 | "Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries" - 2012 - Series Author: VeelaWings Word Count: 32,569 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Heavy Drinking, Smoking Cigars, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Minor Character Death, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Kidnapping, Non-Graphic Violence, Gun Violence, Poisoning

Summary:

“Do you have a personal interest in this case, Malfoy?” Harry asked, arms crossed and blocking the view of the body behind him.

“Not at all.” Draco smiled sweetly, cuddled into the side of tonight’s date. “Although I did briefly own that painting until it proved to be stolen.” He helpfully pointed to the Renaissance portrait a few metres to their left.

“Why is it always so complicated with you?”

+++++

Some people might argue that Draco didn’t have very good ideas. That was a lie. Draco had fantastic ideas, however, due to mankind having free will, the planning and execution of those ideas didn’t always pan out in his favor.

(Or — Draco solves crimes that don’t technically belong to him and Harry tries not to fall in love. Co-Starring: Hermione, High Heels, and Hiccups along the way. #dat 1920s lyfe)

Read "The Thrill of the Chase Moves in Mysterious Ways” now on AO3.

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Burn Your Life Down (but look back to me)

Prompt: #202 | Casablanca - 1942 - Michael Curtiz Author: Triggerlil Word Count: 35,910 words Rating: Teen and Up Audiences Warnings: Alternate Universe - World War II, Film Noir, Self-Medication, Alcohol, Infidelity (not between Harry and Draco), Smoking, Mention of Slavery and Human Trafficking

Summary:

It's been years since destiny walked into an apartment on Rue Azais, and Harry is over it. Really, he is. He has Blaise, he has his work, and if necessary, he still has his memories. But with the onset of WWII, the foundations of his life are crumbling, and suddenly a certain blond man is walking back into his life, asking Harry to make important, and dangerous, choices.

Read “Burn Your Life Down (but look back to me)” now on AO3.

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Super Rich Kids

Prompt: #24 | "The Bling Ring" - 2013 - Sofia Coppola Author: Thusspoketrish Word Count: 81,000 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Thriller, Murder, Dark Humour, Angst, Depression, Nihilism, Existenialism, Jealousy, Hurt/Comfort, Gaslighting, Very Brief Instance of Suicidal Ideation, Immorality, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence (not between Harry and Draco), Abusive Drug Use, Manipulative Behaviour, Heterosexual Sex, Threesomes, Candaulism, Possible Infidelity Due to Unclear Relationship Status (please read the tags on AO3 carefully, this list is not exhaustive)

Summary:

Draco Malfoy has become disillusioned by the glitz and glamour of the scandalous lives of the Post-Second Wizarding War Pureblood Elite. Enter: one existential crisis, one group of cynical friends, and several terrible, terrible decisions.

Read “Super Rich Kids” now on AO3.

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We Built This Right

Prompt: #48 | "Yuri on ice" - 2016 - Series Author: remy_writes5 Word Count: 15,344 words Rating: Explicit Warnings: Homophobic Language, Anxiety, Strained Relationship with Parents

Summary:

At last year's Grand Prix Final, Harry had an accident that left him with a lightning scar on his forehead, a concussion and a twisted ankle. Now everyone is waiting to see if his career is over - including former rival, Draco Malfoy.

Read "We Built This Right” now on AO3.

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bellamyblake · 4 years ago

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"#also my hc is that he has a vague recollection of his dad#and he hates ppl who are not him calling him skn" WHY IS THIS MAKING ME SO SOFT FOR HIM AND HIS DAD sndhsdf

also, everyone else that called him son probably took advantage of him and his mom

Nonnie don’t you even START me on the subject of Bell and his dad cause I have about 1000 headcanons that I’ve shared with only a few people randomly making them sick of me but YES, absolutely YES. He hates people calling him that. You know why?

Because in my HCs he has a vague recollection of his papa. And he wasn’t randomly conceived like i guess the writers were trying to make it out to be like with O/ctavia. No. In my head Aurora fell for his dad hard when they were young, they were school rivals, enemies to friends to lovers of sorts, and Aurora was a sharp, beautiful girl who didn’t take anyone’s shit especially boys in her class who were a little cocky, thinking they were too good for anyone else or at least that was her first impression of his dad (In my head called Nate).

They rivalled constantly in school and she beat him at every contest, the best and brightest of her class.

Nate was a promising young man who came from Factory as well but had a sharp mind and would try to shoot for being an engineer.

They first got closer when they had an Earth class project together and she realized that he was one giant dork who had knowledge on more than fifty percent of the books in the library. He had memorized them since he couldn’t own them and would retell her stories of stars and ancient myths that she later passed onto Bell and Octavia.

Then in their final year Aurora’s dad passed away and she had to drop out of school to work as a seamstress and support herself and her mom who was ill.

Nate would come by her place every day, bring her school work or books and soon she started inviting him in. Their parents approved of their relationship cause they were both good kids and Aurora challenged Nate, she was a force he could rarely reckon with but he was smitten and she wasn’t so hard and collected then, still pragmatic she had let her heart out in the open for Nate who loved her dearly, honestly, truly.

They married when he graduated and moved into their own little cabin. At first Aurora didn’t get pregnant right away and that got her sad and a little depressed. Nate was at his wits end how to bring the smile on his good girl back but soon enough a year and a half into their new life, he came home and found her sobbing on their little cot.

He rushed to her, kneeled down and took her hands-Rory, what is it? Are you hurt? In pain?

And she simply shook her head and smiled-Nate, I’m pregnant-she had whispered as if she was afraid to say it out loud, it was so surreal.

Nate picked her up laughed and kissed her. He had only been happier on the day Bell was born.

Her pregnancy was hard, though, she had to stop working when she was six months in cause she had really high blood pressure and Nate was going nuts how to provide everything they needed for their little baby that would soon join them. He took extra shifts, came home late but even if Aurora was already asleep, working from home on her bed, stitching clothes together, he’d lay next to her and kiss her bump, talk to the baby and she’d wake up to him stupidly crying cause he was so emotional.

Despite the pregnancy being hard, giving birth happened fast and relatively easy. Nate held Bellamy in his hands and weeped next to a tired Aurora who had to stay a week in the hospital due to her still high blood pressure and presistent fever that left her weak for months after.

But they were happy, oh god they were so happy.

And Bell when he cried it was so quiet Nate wasn’t sure he really heard it and panicked at first-as if he didn’t want to bother them with his presense. He was a quiet good baby that eat a lot. Aurora had to nurse him constantly and soon he was all chubby cheeks and big bright eyes.

Nate marvelled at him, spent every waking minute with him and sometimes sat by his crib and just stared at him while he slept.

“My brave boy-” he would always say when he held him though Bellamy wasn’t doing anything but drooling all over his shirt and blabbing in his baby tongue “My little wolf cub.” that was his nickname for him.

So Aurora knit them matching hats with little wolf ears on.

Bellamy was a smart blubbering child who cheekishly learned early how to escape the confinments of his crib and fall directly into his mom and dad’s bed, waking them in the middle of the night and curling up between them.

He was fast to crawl but not fast to walk and they worried. Had to take him to a doctor who said he has calcium deficience and prescribed more vitamins and a special formula.

The day he walked Ante was washing his onsies in the kitchen sink and talking to him, telling him a story after he placed him on the little blanket with his few tosy to play with.

Out of nowhere he heard Bellamy’s giggle and his tiny hands wrapping around Nate’s legs. He turned around and gasped, dropping everything, hands soaped, he laughed and picked him up.

“My brave, brave boy!” he rubbed his nose against Bell’s “I love you so much, my son!”

Okay I’m stopping here cause i licherally have a 43k story about bell as a kid on the ark and his parents but I wont bore anyone anymore with this LOL.

#bellamy blake #the 100 #bellamy blake headcanons #bellarke fanfiction #answered #Anonymous

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slashingdisneypasta · 5 years ago

Text

Slender Brothers Headcanons

#1. Mating Season

WARNINGS: Heavy content here. Slender’s and Offender’s of course talk about rape. Very violent and graphic rape and mention of necrophilia in Offender’s. Trender’s talks about prostitution? But not in a dark way, really. Splender’s describes some pain- for him. Pain for him. Its unfortunate ): The ‘If he had an S/O’ parts are pretty safe though

Notes:

Heed the warnings. If you don't, then I take no responsibility.

Or... maybe these aren't as graphic as I think and I’m just a baby? Dunno, better safe then sorry though!!!

If you are interested in this stuff, then enjoy! ^^ XD

~~~

Slenderman:

You thought he hid away before… but, man. During this time, no one knows where he is.

In truth, he’s hauled away in a bunker that he set up himself and upkeeps every year, all alone (For his benefit, because he haaaaates, hates, hates being out of control. Not for everyone else’s benefit, I want to make that clear.) and if it wasn’t for the constant, unattended, unquenched heat overwhelming him then he would be in total peace. I mean, here he’s underground (In the earth. His favourite thing) and he’s alone (This favourite thing ties with the earth).

That bunker ends up in teeerible shape after he’s been in there. He loses most of his control, and because his needs aren’t extinguished, he gets violent. He has a lot of pent up tension in every orifice and periodically he snaps. At the walls, at the chairs, at anything that’s a satisfying weight to throw, or break, or crush.

He never leaves the bunker though without repairing and replacing shit though so that when he comes back the next year, he doesn’t feel even worse.

Now, if Slender didn’t hide himself away… Look, Slender is not a good being. He controls himself because he genuinely enjoys controlling things and the most important thing to do is control yourself. But at this time, if he really actually tried, he would have like 0.10 percent control.

And… he wouldn’t feel any reservations about taking a mortal and using them to help himself, raping them. He would feel disgusted with himself later on, for sure, but that’s only because he lost his control. Not because of what he did to the mortal.

I think the only reason he doesn’t normally do this, is not because he’s in any way better, morally, then Offender. It’s because he generally doesn’t feel sexual desire that often. And when he does, he ignores it. He isn’t interested, like Offender is. So, don’t get it twisted, Slender is a selfish and rotten.

If he had an S/O:

If there is even the smallest chance that you won’t find out, he will take it.

Of course, that would be pretty hard to do seeing as the damn thing can last for up to a week (Although that is still very lucky, seeing as cats and dogs last a month or longer. I’ve decided the Slender’s are more like birds XD) and you will be puzzled when your cranky, hermit Slenderman disappears from his beloved home for that long.

Even after its over and he’s back, and you know something out of the ordinary happened, he still won’t tell you. Just very bluntly, so you know he knows you know somethings up but you also know he isn’t about to tell you, says “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”. The ass will even say “I was here the whole time Y/N, for goodness sakes. You must have missed me.”.

HOW?

I beg to differ, Slendy.

Eventually one of the other brothers will tell you, and get a prompt smack from a stray black tentacle when he finds out. “Oh, my bad. Spasm.” He’ll say, totally deadpanned.

Now, if you decide you don’t want anything to do with it and to respect his decision to keep it from you, he’s happy to go on like normal with you. Whenever the season comes around, he’ll just tell you he’ll be away for a bit for his mating season. No drama! And no more secrets!

On the other hand, if you wanted to help…

Well, he would describe to you everything he feels during his mating season and exactly how strong these urges are, to scare you off. And e tells no lie, and it does sound terrifying.

But if you still want to after that, then fine. Next mating season, he concedes a test run. But he enlists Zalgo to stand by for a bit and if he hears non-pleasure noises, then to come in and take you away.

Slender’s a big fan of informed consent where you’re concerned.

Trenderman:

Trender does a lot of meditation and drinks a lot of calming herbal remedies at this time… and, also, jerks off a lot and is out picking up partners every night for wild one-night stands. He deals with it pretty healthily, actually, compared to the others! Haha

As song as he’s satisfied, everyone who is prospectively around him, will be safe. That’s his thinking, and it’s true.

Also, why treat the feeling like it’s a curse? It is an issue, but if you act like Frollo then you’ll just make it worse for yourself and more importantly, for everyone else.

He will even hire prostitutes if he has no luck picking anyone up himself. Don’t worry, he’s very good to them, and pays them well (Boy makes it a habit to even send them off with breakfast, or at least breakfast money if they don’t feel comfortable spending more time with him then what was professional). Like, from the prostitute’s point of view, he is the best customer. Favourite customer. Love him.

He doesn’t do any work with anyone, during this time. Just stays in at home all day meditating, drinking his tea’s and working on designs and outfits from the safety of his house (He does some of his best work during this time- they’ve been described as ‘Seductive’). If he absolutely has to contact someone, he will text them. Even the sound of someone’s voice might set him off, so he really avoids anything like phone calls and delivery people- he has his groceries dropped off at his front door while he’s out at night.

He wears headphones most of the time (Noise cancelling or music), blocking out anything possible from the outside world, and keeps the blinds closed and windows and doors locked.

If he had an S/O:

If you’re willing to help him out during the season, he’s jazzed. I mean, he was hoping you would XD

Let me tell you, you can satisfy him way quicker than anyone else that he could pick up or hire, so its not really an issue if you want to help him. You will be pretty tired after a night so I’d prescribe you maybe every second night if you’re up to it?? But you won’t be fatally tired or anything like Splender XD And you definitely wont be hurt, because honestly it doesn’t take much from you to finish him, because it’s you!

Theirs no poetic reason. It’s just, simply, because it’s you.

Kinks that he doesn’t mention before this suddenly come out to play… You will learn some new things about yourself, that’s for sure.

Offenderman (I’m saying it again because it’s very necessary. WARNING. Please read with caution):

This is… not an issue for him…

In fact, it affects him much, much less than the others. Offender is always horny, anyway. Its literally in his nature. So, he’s used to living with it.

His temperament does lose its bearings for the duration, though, which makes him even more dangerous then usual. Most of the time he doesn’t even play with his victims at all (Doesn’t tease or go even a modicum slower. Doesn’t care to look into their eyes to see the fear- which tends to be a big part of what he does. He gets off of their terror. But at this time he just seems mad, sloppy and impatient), just rapes them in an the back of an alleyway and leaves their corpses when he’s not getting anything out of it anymore, looking for a new one.

Usually, when it’s not mating season he’ll usually leave them alive, specifically so they have to deal with the trauma, but now the force he uses… breaks them. The force of his hips breaks their bones, the way he bites their neck leaves a gaping, jagged hole that blood escapes out of, he suffocates them to death or crushes their windpipe. Long before he’s done, they’re a corpse. Not that that bothers him. At all. As long as they’re tight, he can work with it.

Also, something about them being dead turns him on also, so…

The body count at night means that he’s fine during the day, except for a normal, gentle buzz of thirst but he can handle that just fine. It’s more like normal.

If it wasn’t for his general lack of care for mortal (Or any other) lives and cruelty he would be able to manage this season like any other time of the year. No one would get hurt and no one would realise he’s any different.

But, this is Offenderman.

If he had an S/O:

Offender is so much more in control. Like, literally, he can date you and have a normal life and everything. He doesn’t want to scare you away or, very much less, hurt you. If he can get away with it, he wont even mention a mating season.

But, if you were happy to help him out (Which, I realise now, may be hard for some of us to imagine after reading what I just wrote about him not 4 dot points ago… ), then he would lose his ever loving mind.

But not in a bad way like before was. Less violent and more… submissive. I guess. He’s still him, and he thinks he’s head honcho and everything (Second only to Slender) but he has absolutely zero issues with bottoming- theirs plenty of pleasure to source from that position.

Your touch and your warm, wet pinkness feel’s 10 times better to him (And he already loved it with his whole, black heart) in this condition. He’ll mule.

Splenderman:

This is ESPECIALLY hard for Splender. He feels everything 10 times stronger than any of his brothers, which is saying a lot because they’re all very passionate about their shit.

But Splender is the most so. (*Cough* Its because I like to believe kindness is a stronger urge then hatred, personal interest or even lust. This is also the reason I headcanon Splender as the oldest).

One year, soon after he reached adulthood and mating season actually kicked in, (The first time shocked him. He had no one to tell him this was about to happen, and it stole the wind from him. He nearly hurt someone when he tried to ignore it, which explains why this that I’m about to explain about, which is the second time, turned out so badly),he tried to haul himself away and do nothing. Not touch himself, not see anyone for help, not do anything.

It caused him to cease up completely. He was just sitting there for a full day, thinking about nothing but his physical need and his pain. First his cock went painfully stiff, then the rest of him, and when he finally tried to move it was agonising.

Ever since then he’s careful not to do that. For a long time he subscribed to Slender’s method of hiding and locking himself away until it’s over.

But, it was not until Trender became an adult and started dealing with his mating seasons that Splender’s eyes were opened up to a much safer and healthier management strategy.

Instead of fighting the season, just accept it. Take care of yourself Splendy, we worry for you.

Nowadays he spends most of his time treating his body the bets he can, in a remote area in some mountains in Switzerland. Beautiful nature to revitalise him, spring weather, clean fresh air… no one around for miles and miles to hear what he’s up to… Haha. Its half an half. Half of the time he spends eating healthily and relaxing in fields and rocky mountain areas, and the other half he masturbates.

A lot of the time actually he’s doing both at the same time. Jacking off outside in the fresh air.

If he had an S/O:

He’s surprised to hear that his mortal mate likes the idea of being… uh… used, essentially. For his personal gain.

“You think that’s okay, Y/N??”? He’s a bit sceptical.

“Yeah, Splender, as long as its you! I don’t mind helping- plus its kinda hot.”

Well, if you’re sure! Splender doesn’t try to tell you that you don’t know what you’re talking about or that you don’t know what you like in anyway.

He’s kind of excited now XD

He’s going to come up with a plan though to separate the two of you at some point so you can rest and revitalise because while he understands that you’re consenting to a lot and are genuinely interested, he also knows that during this time he can go for a looooot longer then you can, and he refuses to break you. “You can come back if you want once you’re not so tired!” He assures you, when you whine and say you can ‘handle it’.

ALL SLENDER’s:

Final thing.

Imagine having a vagina and being on your period at the same time that he’s enduring his mating season.

#Slender Brothers Headcanons #Slender Brothers #Headcanons #Mating Season #period #rape #murder #Splenderman #Slenderman #Trenderman #Offenderman #blood #heat

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bat-besties · 4 years ago

Text

Roman’s Victory

AO3

1.7k

Sci-Fi Platonic Prinxiety Hurt/Comfort

As the only medic on their spaceship and the most reckless of the fighter pilots, Virgil and Roman are used to seeing each other. Perhaps there are problems which Virgil can't fix for Roman alone.

Mention of a burn, characters not taking care of themselves, medical environment

"Mars below, Roman, you can't keep doing this-" the medic snapped, hitting the touch screen of the hologram so hard that it glitched out for a moment. He kicked the box projecting it and then keyed in some details. The green-yellow light flickered up along the corroded metal panels of the floor and walls. "Okay, I'm getting you some proper painkillers and you can't operate heavy machinery for the week's course-"

Roman scoffed, then stopped to catch his breath for a moment, curling his fingers into the foam mattress. He was sure Virgil tied the bandages so tightly just to annoy him. "My elegant racer is as far from heavy machinery as a butterfly is from a rhinoceros-"

Eyes underlined with bags far darker than Roman supposed was healthy met his own flatly. "Just because you spin out a chunk of metal really thin doesn't stop it being a chunk of metal."

"And just because you put a willow tree into an aspirin doesn't make it not a tree, but you're not prescribing me chewing on bark!" Roman rejoindered.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. "That's not- this is all synthetic, it's not the Middle Ages."

"It comes from willow trees," he insisted. “That’s what they did in like...3000 CE when they discovered it.”

"It comes from my limited store and you're using it all up," he groused. He didn't bother with the little keypad by the medicine cupboard, instead just whacking the top of it with the heel of his hand so it fell open.

He raised his eyebrows. "Maybe you shouldn't do that where a crewmate can see you."

"Look, if you start stealing bandages and painkillers rather than returning them unused I wouldn't stop you." As ever, it was hard to tell if he was being sarcastic, but Roman was fairly confident he wasn’t this time.

"Bandages are for nerds," Roman muttered to himself. He patted the spot over his shoulder which had been- well, lightly toasted by blaster fire and tightened his hands once more so he didn’t flinch. There. It was basically nothing. "Nerd losers who don't have dashing and fun scars-"

Virgil pointed the box of pills at him in what the pilot could only interpret as a threatening gesture. "At any point in time, I'm between keeping you here on bedrest so you stick to my rules and being off put by how much you like to annoy me." He looked at Roman’s shoulder with a frown. "You're walking that line."

He put on his most charming smile as he took the box and tucked it into his jumpsuit. "What, like my company wouldn't delight and fill your dreary days, borebones?"

Virgil pulled a face. "Yeah, nope, you can go get infected all you like."

"Somehow I feel like a doctor shouldn't have this lack of care for his dear patients."

"Maybe the patient should have more care for himself-" Virgil sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. Guilt squirmed into the pilot’s chest, as well as exactly what his captain would say to a general medic trying to dissuade his most committed soldier. "Roman, seriously, I can refer you to talk to someone, at least-"

There was a ringing knock on the door, like two metal pipes clanging together.

He cut off and called, "Yeah?"

"It is P10!" an automated voice replied. "Requesting access?"

Virgil checked his patient, who was busy pretending to be engrossed in picking at the foam mattress, then nodded. "Sure, come in!"

As a robot built to the dimensions of a tiny snowman rolled in, Roman tried to slide off the bed but Virgil held up a hand to keep him. And he was so close to avoiding another doom-and-gloom medic lecture. "Hey, P10," he said- his voice was softer than usual, Roman noted- and then, with a jolt, he realised it wasn’t much softened from when he spoke to him. "This is just Roman."

"Hi!" the robot beeped, then came to bump into the end of Virgil's scrubs where the black faded into washed-out grey.

He crouched down to P10's level. "Usual treatment today?" His brow was slightly furrowed in concentration. Diagnose-y face, Roman deduced.

"Yes.” The robot bobbed his head into a nod. “Performance normal. Satisfaction...low." Somehow the pause in programmed words sounded dejected.

"Yeah, tell me about it,” he sighed as he wrapped his arms around P10's round sides in an awkward hug.

Roman laughed in disbelief and Virgil's eyes snapped up to glare at him. He held his hands up. "Sorry, sorry! It's just- funny."

"What is?" His eyes narrowed.

He shook his head with a grin. "You're all...soft.”

"What are you talking about? I'm always soft," he snarked at him.

Impatient, P10 bumped the dome of his head into Virgil's chin. "Kiss it better!"

As demanded, Virgil dropped a little kiss onto the robot's head. "There. That should help," he said gruffly, not looking at Roman as his cheeks went pink.

P10 made a little whirring noise, almost like a purr. "Satisfaction...medium.”

"A little bit better is still better," the medic said, standing up again with a stretch and a grunt. "I'll see what I can do when I get those books in, okay?"

"Thanks, Virgil!" He rolled back out again before stopping to wiggle his head goodbye. "See you tomorrow!"

He gave a little two-fingered salute in return. Academy habits died hard, Roman knew.

However he was looking at Virgil as he reappraised him made the medic scowl and turn away, before wheeling back and pointing at the holes he had dug in the foam mattress. "Dude, come on. I get one of these a week and it's Tuesday."

Roman shook his head. "It's Monday."

His eyes widened in alarm. "What day did you say it was?"

"Uh, Monday?”

Virgil quickly crossed the room and drew out a small flashlight from a seemingly random box of tools. His brow furrowed as he held it up to the pilot’s face. Roman swatted it away from his eye. "Check the date before you check me!"

He rolled his eyes, but turned to hit the touchscreen on. He stared at the display for a long moment, the holograph’s light making his pale face look faintly green. Then his shoulders slumped. “Shit. Well, it is Monday." He kicked the box so it flickered off. "Ugh, disgusting."

A wide smile grew on Roman's face. "Shall I check you with the little light, Virgil? Are you sleeping enough, Virgil? Do you know who the King is, Virgil? How many fingers-" He held up three.

"Shut up," Virgil grumbled. "It just slipped my mind."

"Are you sure you don't need a nap?" Roman teased. "Come on!" he said more seriously. "I always say you look like you need a nap!"

Virgil slapped a hand to his forehead. "Oh my S-"

He was cut off by a suddenly bright flashing alarm and a beeping sound. Instinctively, Virgil hit the intercom button. "It's medical,” his voice said in almost as even a tone as P10’s.

"Yeah, uh, Wang fainted up on the bridge-" a voice crackled through. "Could you come up?"

He let his head slump backwards to look at a rust spot on the ceiling before he replied without a change in tone, "Give me five minutes."

"Okay, cool."

He hung up and turned back to Roman. "Painkillers four times a day for a week. No heavy machinery. Come and talk to me once you're done. No more dumb heroics."

Roman pouted. "That would all be so much easier if you'd just kiss it better for me."

Without any fanfare, Virgil crossed the room and cupped his patient’s face in his hands. Roman stared up at him for just a moment, eyes widened in surprise, before Virgil kissed his forehead as gently as if it could break apart at his touch. He pulled back, his deep brown eyes meeting Roman's. "To tide you over. I'm getting books for P10, but there are better people than me to help your head. I'll find some choices for the follow-up, okay?"

Without thinking, Roman nodded. He could feel the calluses on his fingers.

Virgil took his hands away, and turned to put gloves on. Roman touched his own lips for just a moment. He watched as the medic checked the contents of a First Aid kit before unfolding his bed from the wall and reaching into the shelf of his belongings behind it.

It took a moment to speak again. "Virgil?"

"Yeah?" He tucked a pack of his own sweets into his pocket with the same efficiency as he'd grabbed the rest of his supplies with.

"Are you...doing alright?"

Virgil laughed through his nose. "Nope, we're not doing that one. I'm going to go and do my job, and you're going to go and get better. I'll talk about it with someone who isn't my patient if I do have a problem."

"No dragons for me to slay at all, then?" he said, his disappointment barely palpable in his voice.

"Help me fight yours and we'll be even,” he replied just as lightly before he disappeared out of the door and, presumably, up to the bridge. No time for goodbyes. Maybe no need, after that. Maybe he was just sleep-deprived and forgot.

Roman wouldn't even think of calling a medic if he fainted, he thought smugly to himself. He could probably fix that all alone. Then he sighed and leaned his head back against the wall with a small clang as he thought of what Virgil would say. You can't keep doing this.

He looked around the room for a moment as if the piles of boxes and confusing equipment would give him any clues as to what to do to help.

Then, he slung his legs back over the bed and began, instinctively, to head to the break room to see if there was anyone around to go over the skirmish with. He mussed his hair in the reflection of a sliding door, admiring the dashing line of an old scar down one cheek.

Then he stopped and heaved a great and dramatic sigh.

He checked the packet of painkillers- causes drowsiness - and gave one final glance to where the story of his success would still be flashy and exciting, and turned his feet to the sleeping quarters.

It looked like Roman would celebrate another daring victory with a goddamn nap.

#platonic prinxiety #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #ts fic #sanders sides fanfiction #hurt/comfort

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kayluh1915 · 4 years ago

Text

Beautiful People

Paring(s): Pedro Pascal/Female Reader

Words: 5,378

Warnings: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Disorder, Medication Discussions, Insecurities, and Panic Attacks.

You and Pedro have been secretly dating for a few months now after a chance meeting. You both agreed that it was time to reveal your relationship to the public and chose to do so by accompanying him at The Oscars, but your anxiety does a great job of making you think that you don't deserve it.

DISCLAIMER!

This story is based on the song Beautiful People by Ed Sheeran & Khalid, but this IS NOT a songfic. It just gave me this vibe of Pedro walking down the red carpet with someone who doesn't quite feel like they belong and he comforts her by saying he doesn't really belong either and proceeds to list why they're better off because of it. I dunno, It just sounded sweet.

As always, comments are welcomed and encouraged.

You can also follow me on Twitter if you'd like. My life is boring, but I might be able to make you laugh if I’m lucky.

Enjoy!

(PS: Pepe is a real person. He was my Spanish teacher my first semester of college... and yes, he really went to Cincinnati every Friday to gamble)

Read on AO3

My Masterlist

The frigid February air was like icicles on your skin, sending a full-blown shiver down your spine as you hurried out of the Science building and towards the dining hall. It was nearly noon and you’ve had only had a banana and a bottle of water this morning, so lunch sounded pretty great right about now… maybe a cup of hot cocoa as well.

The dining hall was about a three-minute walk from the Science building, more than enough time for the cold to seep through the layers of your coat and deep into your bones. The possibility of a cup of cocoa turned into an inevitability, you running for the hot beverage machine as soon as your student ID was swiped.

You sat at your usual spot, hanging your backpack on the back of the chair before taking a greedy sip of the hot drink. The warmth was a godsend, the sugary beverage warming your icy hands with a pleasant hum tumbling from your lips.

“You make noises like that in bed?” Someone asked, snapping you out of your warming daze. It was your roommate and closest friend, Lauren. You snorted at her remark, almost spitting out a sip of your drink.

“I thought you had Spanish class at noon?”

“Nah. It’s Friday, remember?”

“Oh yeah, gambling day.” Like you, Lauren was a music student. It was how you had met nearly four years ago. Like most music students, you both used the extra humanities credits you had earned in high school to bail you out of the required foreign language credit until university. You were doing fairly well so far, but it was because you had a decent teacher. She wasn’t the best, but she was alright.

Lauren’s was just… something else.

On the first day of class, he told his students to call him “Pepe” because he didn’t do the “formal shit.” He also said that there would never be a class on Friday’s because he goes up to Cincinnati to gamble with his buddies. Why he didn’t just put down that his classes were only on Monday and Wednesday were beyond you.

“Yeah. Whatever, though right?” Lauren continued. “I’m not complaining about one less day of class.” You smirked mischievously.

“No, but your Spanish is…” Lauren scoffed, only causing you to laugh harder into your cup.

“Bitch, you shut the fuck up. You can’t speak the damn language either.” You shrugged.

“You’re not wrong, but at least I’m learning more than you are with Pepe.” Lauren groaned.

“Fuck you. Come on, let’s grab some grub.” You stood up and grabbed your backpack, throwing away your empty drink cup to grab something to eat. You settled on your usual favorite and sat back down with Lauren who had somehow already made it halfway through her plate.

“God, slow down.” You teased as you hung your backpack back on the chair.

“I didn’t eat breakfast this morning. Cut a bitch a break.” You shook your head, digging into your own plate, but at a much slower pace. You both sat in comfortable silence, enjoying your meals as the indecent chatter of the surrounding students and meme music playing from the jukebox continued on.

“So,” Lauren said, breaking the silence as she sat down her drink. “What are you doing this weekend?” You froze at her question but played it off the best you could. Any hint of hesitation would send her into a frenzy of questions that you weren’t prepared to answer.

“I’m going in to see Mom. Maybe stop by my Mamaw’s too.” Lauren’s shoulders slumped.

“Damn, that’s too bad. Devon invited us over to his Oscar watch party tomorrow night. Figured you might want to come along since you’re into that sort of thing.”

You swallowed hard at the mention of The Oscars. Just play it cool… don’t. fucking. panic.

“Normally I would, but it’s been a while since I’ve seen Mom. You know how she gets when I don’t come to visit for a while.” Lauren nodded her head in understanding, knowing full well of how your Mom was after living with you for two years.

Little did she know that you had just seen your mother last weekend.

“I understand, boo. I’ll let him know you can’t make it. When are you leaving?”

“As soon as I’m done here. I packed my stuff this morning so I could just go. Trying to beat the traffic as much as possible.” She nodded in understanding.

“Well, I hope you have a good time with your Mom. Say hi to her for me, will you?” You internally sighed a breath in relief. How your big mouth managed to keep him a secret all this time let alone this was beyond you, but you managed to pull it off somehow.

“Yeah, sure.”

After you finished eating, you hugged Lauren goodbye and went back to your dorm long enough to drop off the books you didn’t need and pick up your suitcase. You went through your mental checklist one last time and locked your door behind you as you left.

You unlocked your car and threw your stuff into the backseat, making your way towards the interstate as soon as you left the college.

Home was about a two or three-hour drive down south, but where you were really going was about a 40-minute drive north. You put on some music as you cruise down the interstate, your nervousness slowly increasing the closer you got to your destination.

Your hands shook on the steering wheel, you bounced your left knee furiously, and you were biting your lip… pretty hard. You thought about reaching into your purse for the “take as needed” anxiety medication your psychiatrist prescribed you but decided to hold off on it a little longer. Maybe it’d taper off when you got to the airport.

It didn’t.

You had flown before, but that had been years ago when your micro home town had some kind of festival thing and gave free airplane rides. This commercial airline stuff was something entirely new to you which was already nerve wreaking, but the unexpected bustle of such a smaller airport made it worse.

Weeks before when you first booked the flight to Los Angles, you did as much research as possible to make sure that you knew the “norms” and guidelines of all the airports you were going to since there were no direct flights available. You were as prepared as anyone could be, but you were still extremely nervous and all the foot traffic only made it worse.

You went through security without any qualms and took a seat to wait for your flight to begin boarding. You pulled out your phone and texted your Mom and Lauren before someone walked up to you in your peripheral.

“Excuse, miss?” You looked up from your phone to come face to face with an older gentleman. He looked to be in his early 50’s with salt and peppered hair and a kind smile. He asked you your name and you confirmed with a nod.

“Sorry to disturb you, but your private flight is prepared to depart whenever you’re ready, Miss.”

...Excuse you, what?

“P-Private flight? But I-... I paid for an American Airlines flight.” The man nodded.

“Yes, but Mr. Pascal has sent a private jet to retrieve you. He was fairly insistent to make sure that you boarded.” You sighed heavily. You told him that a two-stop economy flight that you paid for was more than fine, but the thought of you doing anything like a normal person seemed to bother him for some reason.

“Okay. I-I guess I’m ready to go then.” The man smiled.

“Of course, Miss. May I take your bags for you?” You hesitated.

You had never been waited on like this before and you weren’t quite sure how to feel or respond to it. You were perfectly capable of carrying your own stuff and this guy probably wasn’t getting paid enough to carry some lucky college student’s stuff, but was it rude to say no even if you did so in a polite manner? So, you just agreed and handed him over your suitcase and backpack.

You followed him outside and over to a small commercial jet, a woman who looked to be around her mid 30’s standing right by the entrance of the aircraft.

“Welcome aboard, Miss. I’m Kendall Bishop and I’m your captain for today. If you’ll go ahead and take a seat and buckle your seat belt, we’ll depart shortly. I do ask, however, that you remain seated and keep your seat belt fastened until Mr. Clements informs you that it is safe to move about the cabin. Do you have any questions for me before we begin our descent?”

You smiled politely at her and shook your head.

Upon entering the cabin, you were at a complete loss for words. It was easily the fanciest thing you’d ever seen. Leather seats, stocked alcohol shelves, an endless assortment of snacks, a TV, even a fucking bed of all things. The man, Mr. Clements you assumed, gestured towards the seat closest to you. You sat down and buckled your seat belt like you were told to do.

Mr. Clements then reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope, gesturing for you to take it.

“Mr. Pascal requested I hand this to you as soon as you board.” You took the envelope out of his hands, looking down at it with a curious gaze. On the back of it had your name scribbled onto it in familiar handwriting. You’d know it anywhere after reading so many letters from him.

“Please enjoy your flight and let us know if there’s anything we can do for you.” You thanked him with another nod, turning the envelope around and tearing it open. The plane prepared to take off as you read.

Mi Abeja,

I know you wanted and paid for a normal flight, but the academy offered to fly you to me privately last second. I was going to ask you if you were okay with it, but you were in class and your phone was off and I had to let them know something before my table read this morning. You work and study so hard and deserve to be pampered so I told them yes. They reimbursed what you paid for your ticket and I’ll give that to you once you get here.

I hope the unexpected change didn’t spike your anxiety too much. I know you’re nervous about this whole thing to begin with and I probably just made it worse. I’m sorry if I did.

I’ll be there to pick you up as soon as you land at LAX.

Love you,

Pedro. <3 <3

Your heart soared at his words, leaning back in your seat and looking out of the nearby window just in time to watch the plane lift up from the runway.

________________________

Four hours later, Mr. Clements informed you that you would be landing shortly. Your heart leaped up in your chest as you put your phone back into your backpack and fastened your seat belt.

It had been a few weeks since you’d last seen him and you were nearly vibrating with excitement by the time the wheels touched down on the runway. Mr. Clements offered to take your things again. You still weren’t sure if it was rude to turn him down or not and you didn’t want to ask and risk looking like a moron, so you agreed and handed over your backpack.

The captain opened up the door and exchanged pleasantries with you as you stepped off the plane, but you barely heard her over the pounding of your own heart. As soon as you looked up from the ramp, you saw him. He was there just like he promised he’d be, standing by his car and wearing his favorite pair of sunglasses all while smiling at you with that blinding smile.

Your sneakers barely touched the tarmac before you were sprinting for him. He held out his arms for you and made a small sound when you collided with him, wrapping your arms around his neck and laying your head on his chest. One of his hands caressed the back of your head, holding you to him tightly as the other one held on to your waist.

“I’ve missed you so much, Abeja.” He muttered against the crown of your head. You let go of him long enough to reach up and kiss him, tangling your hand into his dark curls. “Did you have a good flight?” He asked after you pulled away.

“I did. I was a little nervous at first, but I’m okay now.” Pedro gave you a saddened look.

“I’m sorry. I know it was unexpected and didn’t mean to hike you up, I just figured yo-” You put your hand over his mouth.

“It wasn’t your fault, Pedro. I’m just… not used to this… any of it.” He placed a gentle kiss to your fingers, taking your wrist into his hand and gently taking it off of his mouth.

“Please tell me you at least ate something.“ You nodded.

“I ate with Lauren before I left for the airport. She actually invited me to an Oscar watch party this guy named Devon is hosting. I played it cool just like we practiced, but it took everything in me not to freak out.” Pedro giggled, pressing a kiss to your nose.

“Isn’t she in for a surprise?” You barely smiled, nodding gently. You’ve been trying not to think about it, but the idea of you being on display to the entire world made your stomach churn and your knees weak. You were just a first-generation college student from the middle of nowhere, yet here you are in the arms of Pedro Pascal about to walk down the runway of the most prestigious award show in less than 24 hours.

“... Yeah.” You eventually answered. Pedro noticed the change in your demeanor and frowned, placing a kiss on the wrist he was still holding and caressing it gently with his thumb.

“We don’t have to go through with this if you don’t want to, you know? We can always go with plan B.” You shook your head vigorously.

“No, no, no! I-I want people to know… I just… all so new.” Pedro smiled at you sympathetically, brushing a stray piece of hair away from your face.

“Just promise you’ll let me know if it ever becomes too much for you. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.” You look up into his mocha gaze, the butterflies in your stomach making you forget about your self-doubt if only for a few seconds.

“I promise.”

________________________

That evening you were curled up with Pedro in the hotel bed, empty take-out containers discarded onto the nearby nightstand as you watched The Shining together. He was fully engrossed in the movie, his fingers idly playing with your hair. You had tried to focus on the movie. You really did, but you’ve seen the damn thing a million times. Laughing at memes on Reddit sounded more appealing so that’s what you were doing.

“You know, I really miss you when you’re not with me.” Pedro said after a while. You looked up from your phone and up at his face.

“I miss you too. Music school sucks and I can’t cuddle Lauren… well, I can but it would be awkward.” Pedro laughed, caressing your cheek with his knuckle.

“Tomorrow, our stylists will be here around noon. I know you’re going to be nervous all day and will probably avoid eating, so I’m going to make sure you get up with me and eat a proper breakfast.” You groaned quietly.

“You won’t let me sleep in? Even on a Saturday?” You fake-pouted. Pedro tapped your nose gently with his finger.

“Not when tomorrow is such an important day. I don’t want you nervous on an empty stomach.” You both went back to what you were doing for a minute.

“You did bring your medication, didn’t you?” You hesitated before nodding.

“Yes.”

“Good. You’ll have something in case it gets too intense. Getting you to take it will be another story, though.” You didn’t say anything, favoring instead to raise up from your reclined position to swing your leg over his waist to straddle him. His hands instantly went to your hips, gently caressing them with his large hands.

“You’re so beautiful, Abeja.” He said after a while of looking you over and running his hands over your body. You smiled at him and leaned down to give him a kiss. It was pretty standard as far as kisses go, but when you pulled away you were both looking at one another with a fiery intent and slowly went back in for another. This one searing and far more passionate.

Pedro groaned deep in his throat as your tongues collide, the kiss deepening far beyond your original intent.

You weren’t complaining.

________________________

Pedro’s alarm going off scared the living hell out of you. You had been awake since 4 am, trying your best to go back to sleep, but it just never happened. When you finally gave up around 6:30, you grabbed your backpack and sat at the desk the hotel provided and did your weekend homework. You hadn’t realized that you were that engrossed in it until his alarm buzzed you out of it.

He groaned quietly and reached over to silence it, rolling back over and reaching out to the other side of the bed looking for you. When he noticed that you were gone, he raised up from the sheets and looked around the room. His hair was an absolute nightmare, sticking up in various directions as he stretched out his back and yawned loudly.

“Thought you wanted to sleep in.” He teased after he found you at the desk.

“You said you were going to wake me up early. Figured I might get some work done.” Concern then donned on his brow.

“Honey, how long have you been up?”

“Not long,” you lie. “I wanted to get some work done so I just got up at my usual time.” Pedro got out of bed and padded over to you, rubbing your shoulders and placing a kiss atop your head.

“You work too hard. You should take a break while you can.” You lolled your head back, Pedro’s hands rubbing your shoulders feeling absolutely amazing.

“I’ll do whatever you say as long as you keep doing that.” He laughed, kissing your cheek and heading to the bathroom.

________________________

You didn’t want to question the professional, you really didn’t. But after the third layer of concealer, you just had to.

“That’s a lot of concealer.” The makeup artist laughed.

“I know, I’m sorry. Use some cream for those bags next time and I promise you won’t need as much.”

You didn’t speak after that, allowing the hair and makeup artist to finish you up while they gossiped back and forth with each other. They made other side comments like that to you here and there. They weren’t necessarily rude so you couldn’t really say anything, but they did little for your already rock-bottom self-esteem.

The artist put a dark shade of lipstick on your lips, making a triumphant noise when she finished.

“Didn’t have the best canvas, but you look fabulous sweetheart! Smile with your mouth closed and you’ll be a knockout!” The makeup artist and hairstylist gathered up their things, leaving you sitting there in your robe staring at the floor and hoping they leave fast.

When they finally left, you got up from the bed and walked over to the full-bodied mirror. You showed your teeth and started looking over them. You never thought they looked too bad. Sure, they were crooked and had some spacing, but they were okay. Braces were expensive and playing a brass instrument with braces is a death sentence for lips.

What if you were wrong about them looking okay all this time? Maybe you should have taken out that loan and a semester off to fix your teeth…

Your stylist came in shortly after. He was quieter than the others had been and much nicer which you were thankful for as you changed into the white dress they had picked for you. When you came out, the stylist smiled and hooped.

“You look gorgeous!” You finished off your look with matching jewelry and a clutch purse, sitting down on the bed to put on your heels.

“It took me forever to find a pair of acceptable wedges for you, sweetheart. I don’t know why you didn’t just tough it out for one night, but hey. I get it. Country girls don’t like heels and that’s okay! It worked out.”

Again, not necessarily rude… but damn.

________________________

You were waiting in the lobby for Pedro to come out, bouncing your leg nervously and trying to remember not to touch your eyes or bite your lip because of the makeup. When you saw him step off the elevator, your breath caught in your throat. His hair was slicked back and his facial hair neatly trimmed, the black velvet suit hugging his broad shoulders perfectly.

“Wow…” He muttered, looking you up and down. “You look absolutely stunning, Abeja.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself.” You replied, playing with his bow tie.

“Hey, hey, no. Don’t touch it. I don’t know how to tie it back if it comes loose.” You laughed and shook your head.

“Fine… I’ll unwrap my present later.” Pedro’s own breath caught as you winked up at him. He cleared his throat and composed himself, offering you his arm.

“Ready?” You swallowed and nodded, taking his arm for him to escort you.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”

________________________

You were in line for the red carpet, the flashing cameras of the paparazzi already blinding and you were still pretty far back. Your stomach churned, a wave of nausea rising up but nothing happening. Pedro took your shaking hand into his and squeezed it gently.

“You okay?” He asked, noticing how tense you were and only grew worse the closer you got.

“... fine.”

“Plan B’s still an option if you need it, Abeja. You have your medicine you can take too.” You shook your head, looking back at him to flash him a smile.

“I’m good.” You could tell that he didn’t buy your bullshit. Not even for a moment. He didn’t say anything, though, opting only to lift your hand and press a kiss to the back of it.

“I’ll be right there beside you the entire time, honey. If at any point you feel uncomfortable or need to leave, you let me know.” You nodded at him, accepting a kiss from him before looking back out the window of the limo.

Your turn came up way sooner than you would have liked, the greeter opening up the limo door as soon as the car stopped and allowing Pedro to step out into the public eye. The photographers went nuts, the flashing lights and screams from fans intimidating you more than you thought they would.

What the fuck were you thinking? You’re just some tired ass music student. You don’t belong here with all these people.

You almost chickened out and stayed in the car but when Pedro turned towards you and offered his hand you took it anyway even though your mind was screaming for you not to. Just the gentle touch of his calloused hand on yours grounded you enough to carefully step out of the limo, making sure that nothing happens to your dress.

You could hear the sounds of the crowd die down for a moment as they all started muttering to themselves. Your hand was shaking in Pedro’s larger one, the photographers gasping as soon as they saw your face. They started taking pictures faster than they ever had. The bombardment of flashing lights blinded you for a moment, but you adjusted to them quickly.

Pedro let go of your hand and put it on your back, gently leading you where you’re supposed to go.

“Okay?” He asked as he wrapped his arm around you and brought you close. You nodded. You weren’t comfortable in the slightest, but it wasn’t the worst thing ever. While both of you posed for pictures, people from the group of photographers said a lot of things to both of you. Some were kind, others were funny and got a good laugh out of you. There were also a few who were very rude, but they had been pushed aside by the others.

Overall, it wasn’t nearly as bad as you were expecting… but you were glad it was over.

________________________

You were standing aside checking your phone while Pedro did an interview with some of the press. He had offered you to be with him, but the red carpet had been more than enough fame for you. Your phone was on “do not disturb” mode, but you could still see all the notifications coming in. Your Mom, Dad, Lauren, and other friends bombarding you with messages basically asking what the fuck. You didn’t have the time to reply, so you didn’t open any of them.

Once Pedro was done with his interviews, he escorted you into the main hall where he introduced you to some of his friends and colleagues along the way. You considered it an honor to meet the people most only ever dreamed of, but you knew you didn’t deserve it. Someone else should be here, not you.

When you found your seats, Pedro offered you his hand. You took it and allowed him to seat you before he took his next to you and wrapped his arm around the back of the seat. The show started shortly after.

________________________

“And the Oscar goes to…” You held onto Pedro’s hand tightly as they opened up the envelope, your shaking hands encased in his. He had told you when he had been nominated that he didn’t expect to win it, but you could tell he had some hope as he tensely watched them read the card.

“Pedro Pascal.” You jumped up with Pedro, hugging him tightly as the audience broke out in cheers.

“You deserve it!” You told him, breaking away to give him a quick kiss. You watched him run up stage and accept the golden statue, walking up to the microphone with a few chuckles as he looked over the award.

“Wow, this is uhhh… this is incredible. Truly amazing.” He started. “I’d like to thank the Academy for this honor, my Mom and Dad who worked hard to raise me right and who supported me. My brother and two sisters for being there for me, mi Abeja for loving me unconditionally, and just… so many others. There are so many people in my life who have helped me get to this milestone and if I were to thank all of you, we’d be here all night. I love you all so very much and this truly… a dream come true. Thank you.

The crowd stands up and cheers loudly. You wanted to, but you were too busy trying to make sure your makeup doesn’t run down your face with a tissue from your clutch. Eventually, you give up trying and decide to go to the bathroom just to make sure everything still looks fine.

Your makeup looked just as flawless as it had before. You wish you would have known that the artist had used waterproof makeup so you could’ve properly celebrated Pedro’s achievement, but oh well. While you were there, you decided to use the bathroom. You didn’t have to go that bad, but might as well take care of it while you’re here.

While you were relieving yourself, you heard two other women come in.

“-ld for her. He needs to settle down with someone like us and around his age. Not some college student.” You froze solid when they realized that they were talking about you.

“I know. She isn’t even that pretty. Did you see her teeth? Do they not have braces where she comes from?”

“For real. Her body’s not that great either. Looks like she comes straight from the shack or something.”

“Wonder if that’s where he found her?” They both giggle.

“Either way, she doesn’t belong here.” You knew they were right, but you just couldn’t bare to listen anymore, pulling your underwear back up and fixing your dress after you flush the toilet.

You then run out of the bathroom, not even looking to see who the women were. It didn’t matter, though. They were right. You should have never came here and you couldn’t stay any longer.

You walked back to your seat and gently tugged on Pedro’s sleeve.

“C-Can we go… Please?” You ask, your voice shaking just as much as your hands. Pedro got up instantly when he saw the look on your face, grabbing his trophy, coat and your clutch. He didn’t ask questions as he placed his hand to the small of your back and began to escort you out of the theater.

By the time you got back into the limo you felt like you couldn’t breathe. The voices around you sounding like water as your vision became black around the edges. Oh God, is this what feels lie to die? You couldn’t die. Not now! You had so much to do, so much t-

Something extremely cold suddenly touched your face, the blackness around your vision fading slightly as you looked up to whoever had put something so damn cold on you.

You were instantly met with the warm eyes of your boyfriend, concern laced on his brow as he gently dabbed a cold washcloth over your face. You could see his mouth moving, but you couldn’t make out what he was saying over the pounding of your heart, but it eventually calmed down enough to where you could begin to hear him.

“There we go, bee… that’s it sweetheart. Nice and easy.” Your breathing slowly calmed down, Pedro cradling you in his arms as your panic attack faded.

“I should have never come here…” You muttered. “I don’t belong here. All these fancy dresses, the flashing cameras, nice cars… I don’t deserve any of this.” Pedro placed a kiss to your forehead.

“Don’t say things like that, Abeja. You deserve this just as much as anyone. And as far as not belonging, trust me when I say I don’t either. And, frankly, I’m fine with that. All of these designer clothes, the mindless gossip, the broken homes, being surrounded by so many but still alone? That’s not really a life worth living. The world of Beautiful People is a lonely life, one that I would rather not live.”

You wasn’t sure what to say, so you just didn’t say anything, curling up as close as you could to him.

He made you take a dose of your anxiety medication when you got back to the hotel, taking it with a swig of water before laying down and curling up close to him. You laid your head on his shoulder, the sounds of his breathing and the gentle feeling of his hand caressing your own shoulder lulling you.

Right before you doze off, you heard him say:

“No matter what any of them has said, you’re perfect the way you are and deserve everything.”

________________________

You wake up the next morning still wrapped up in his arms. You lay there for a while just talking and enjoying one another’s company before he finally got up to use the bathroom.

You reach for your phone on the nightstand, turning off “do not disturb” mode for the first time since yesterday afternoon.

Your phone was overloaded. Twitter, Instagram, Snapchat, everywhere was flooded. You didn’t even know where to begin.

Eventually, you just give up trying to put a dent into anything and returned Lauren’s list of missed calls. She answered on the second ring.

“You tell me every little detail, you sneaky bitch. And I mean everything!”

#kayla's ramblings #pedro pascal #reader insert #my fanfiction #beautiful people

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agentnolastname · 4 years ago

Note

write the fluffiest shit you can pull out of masons ass for me i’m not ok need a cheer up and you’re gonna prescribe me my medicine thank h very much

Wear It Like A Promise

Pairing: Agent Mason x Detective Iris Decker (f!OC) | featuring toddler!Millie

Prompt: Mason realizes that his clothes are missing one by one. He finds out why and does something about it.

Word Count: ~1.7k

Note: Thank you for the ask @withbeautyandrage! I hope this is fluffy enough to cheer you!

***

"Man, I'm so tired of you wearing the same clothes almost everyday," Felix sighs as he looks at Mason with what seems to be a frown as fake as his sigh, "Don't the agency give us enough allowance for that?"

Mason scoffs at this, and was just about to speak when a laugh tears from the other side of the room. Iris then strides through the doors with Adam following her closely from behind.

"Ask Adam the same thing."

"I would like to be excluded from this narrative." The commanding agent says, his eyes glaring at Mason's direction

At this, Iris finds herself laughing even more.

Oh, to be a human in the middle of this.

She shakes her head internally, making her way to the couch to sit beside her husband. Mason greets her with a smirk, gesturing for her to move closer. She responds to this by pressing her body to his side, she immediately felt his hand on her waist and a peck on her lips.

"Missed me?" Iris teased. Mason just shrugged at this.

"Iris, where did all his clothes go?" Felix asks, genuinely looking curious now.

"The laundry." She says and smiles, "It's not much, and they all look the same anyway."

"Yeah, you're right, you gotta buy him clothes that aren't maroon or black." Felix chuckles.

"Not everyone can be stylish, you know?" Iris teases Mason but he just shrugged at this. "I certainly don't mind his clothes though."

"Yeah, you like them off anyway."

"I think we've had enough of this conversation, don't you think so?" Nate suddenly chimes from the corner of the room.

Just then, Rebecca enters the room signalling for their meeting to start.

***

"Thank you so much for looking over her." Iris says as she gets Millie from Tina's arms. The toddler immediately lights up upon the sight of her parents.

"Oh, she's a sweet little girl." Tina says and smiles, "Besides, Cara here was having fun taking good care of her little 'sisters'"

Just then Cara comes up to the door, "Hi, Aunt Iris, and oh angry mister, hello!" Both Tina and Iris laughs at this.

"We should go now." Iris thanks Tina once again.

With their goodbyes now said, Mason follows Iris to the car, carrying Millie on his arms.

***

"Did you send the laundry out already?" Mason lays on the couch in their living room as he looks after Millie while Iris prepares for dinner. "Most of my clothes are missing."

"I already sent them out but it won't arrive until Monday." Iris shrugs and just continued preparing. It wasn't much since Mason only feeds on blood and Millie still eats baby food. So it is only her eating her awful cooking.

"Dada." Millie says suddenly crawling to Mason's way. The toddler smiles at him and tugs on his hands. He picks her up and placed her on his chest. "Gug, dada." (Hug, dad) She says and lodged herself on his chest. Mason's lips curled into a slight smile as he gently wraps one arm on his daughter.

"I didn't use a lot of clothes this week though. Where did they go?" Mason asked.

"You should ask your daughter."

"What can a kid even do with my clothes?"

"More than you can know." Iris just shrugs. "I'll let you discover it yourself."

***

It's night time. They are both preparing to sleep when Millie suddenly cried. Iris immediately sits up with wide eyes, suddenly remembering the fact that she forgot something.

"Shit." She says and immediately stands up from the bed, leaving Mason confused. Once she noticed this, she looked back at him and smiled. "You should go back to sleeping, I just forgot to put something in her crib."

"You sure you don't want me to do it instead?" He asked, worry evident in his voice. It must be because she haven't been sleeping much these days because of the training, and the increase of crime in wayhaven.

"I'm okay."

"Alright then." Mason just shrugs.

Iris leaves the room, but he noticed her getting something from their closet before she went out.

"Dada?" He heard from the radio a few minutes later. It was Millie's tiny sleepy voice. "Dada pwip." (Dad sleep) Mason gets up and decided to check on what is happening on the nursery.

Reaching the room in no time, he slowly and quietly opens the door, seeing Iris wearing his shirt and craddling their child to sleep. Mason relishes the sight, but he won't admit it anyway. So he just smirks and move to stand beside his wife.

"Can't put her to sleep on your own?" He teases, earning a frown from the woman.

"It wasn't my fault that she is such a daddy's girl." Iris says, rolling her eyes.

"I'll put her down, go sleep."

"No, i'm alright."

"You need it." Mason says, moving to stand in front of her now.

"I just don't want to give all the responsibility to you."

"And you are not. She is my child, as much as she's yours."

"Still-"

"Let's all just sleep together then." Mason cuts her off and takes Millie from her arms, exiting the nursery almost immediately and going back to their room.

Iris smiles as she watches Mason gently craddling Millie while walking. She follows them, not bothering to switch back to the shirt she was wearing earlier.

Together, they all slept wrapped in each other's warmth. And it was the first time Millie slept continuously the whole night.

***

The day ended pretty fast for both Iris since it was her day off and all she had to do is to bond with Millie. She's thankful that the toddler didn't make much fuss looking for Mason and pretty much just enjoyed playing with her toys. It was a wonderful day, well more so if Mason was there. Unfortunately, he had to drop by the agency today and do something.

"Hello," she smiles greeting Mason who had just entered their home. "How was your day?" She says and stands, approaching her husband just to give her a kiss.

"As usual." Mason says and shrugs. "It's already late, why are you two still up?"

"Millie was waiting for you."

"And you aren't?" Mason teased, pulling her into the couch to sit on his lap.

"You know it already." Iris says and laughs, and was about to kiss Mason when a tiny voice interrupted their moment.

"Dada. Mum mum." Millie says and smiles up at them, holding her hands out for them to reach. Iris laughs at this and gets off of his lap to carry the toddler and placed her to sit in the middle. "Pwip." (Sleep)

"Alright, let's tuck you to bed now." Iris says snd carries the child. Surprised at Mason standing up and following them behind.

"Go rest. I'll wait until she falls asleep." Mason says, leaving a quick kiss on her temple. Iris just nods and exited the nursery.

Walking into their bedroom, she realized that she forgot to take Millie's dirty bottles from the nursery so she went back immediately. Only to see Mason craddling their child in his arms, and talking with her using a gentle voice even Iris had rarely heard before.

"You make your mom lose sleep whenever you look for me. It's alright to have favorites but don't show her okay? She will be competitive." With a chuckle, Mason looks at his child closely, realizing just how much she looks like him, and really got nothing from Iris except the blonde hair. "I'm gonna give you something that will make you less of a whiner."

Iris watched as he reached for his pocket, bringing out a bracelet with what seems like a small crystal on it. He wraps it around Millie's right arm and the toddler laughs at this.

"You like it, sweetie?" Mason asks and brings Millie up just to look on her happy face.

"I think she does. Also, sweetie? Really?" Iris smiles and moves to sit on the chair's armrest, her side leaning against Mason's shoulder. "You got her a crystal."

"It has my scent." Mason says and she immediately understood what it meant.

A few minutes later, Mason is tucking Millie who is finally asleep under her blankets. Iris stands on the side, waiting for him to finish so they could both go back to their room. When he does, he saunters over her direction, wearing that smirk on his face.

"Think I had forgotten about you, sweetheart?" He suddenly says and his hand retrieves something from his pocket again.

It was a necklace, looking the same as his. A black chord with a crystal that hangs on it.

"What do I need that for?" Iris asks, looking confused.

"So you won't miss me anymore."

"I don't." Iris says defensively and rolls her eyes.

"Sure you don't." Mason chuckles, moving to put the necklace on her neck. And once he finally did, Iris felt something in her stirs, she isn't sure what, but it's not like she still needs to know. It's a gift from Mason, and she will always be thankful for it.

"And this what?" She asked holding the crystal in between her fingers.

"So you'll always have a part of me."

"What, are you now a crystal?" Iris says earning a scoff from the man that is standing in front of her. "Kidding aside, thank you." She says and slips her arms around his neck.

"I'll protect the both of you no matter what. I promise." Mason says, wrapping his arms around her waist. His smirk now long gone, and his eyes are looking at her with much intensity.

"I don't doubt that." Iris says and leans in to kiss him deeply. Only moving back a few seconds after. "She might wake up."

"She won't." Mason says and pulls Iris into their bedroom.

Iris wakes up the next day with dark circles around her eyes, going to work sleep-deprived.

END.

Taglist (twc related content): @introvertgalsworld @freckles-spangledvampire @anotherbeingsworld @temptress-of-death-and-desire @starrystarrytrouble @pearlsandsteel @blossomanarchy @nathanielhsewell @oxjenayxo @agentmasonjars (please tell me if you wanted to be added or removed from this taglist!)

#the wayhaven chronicles #twc fic #twc #twc mason #agent mason #agent mason x iris decker #millicent decker

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