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misettemisette · 18 hours ago

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Chapter 10 ➺ A place for words

Starting over In Madrid

Summary: After moving to Madrid as Real Madrid's new photographer, Nicky can’t seem to take her eyes off the pretty face Misa Rodríguez. But how will she handle her growing desire for the Canarian goalkeeper when her contract strictly forbids dating players? WC: 5,5K words TW: none PS: French writer Chapter 1 ➺ A harder job than I thought Chapter 2 ➺ Clearly on a bad slope Chapter 3 ➺ Calmly panicking Chapter 4 ➺ Hell Clásico Chapter 5 ➺ Valleys and Peaks Chapter 6 ➺ Paris est magique Chapter 7 ➺ In the Haze Chapter 8 ➺ Confusion and directions Chapter 9 ➺ The same struggle

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I snapped a picture of a group of elder people sitting together on a bench and chatting with energy. Misa had gone on international break. It was a hot, bright day in the Spanish capital, and I was walking Angela through the fancy neighborhood of Palacio.

“This is so great, Angie!" I cheered. “Ana said I’ll be directing the photo and filming team. She��s going to hire two assistants and she want me to work with the set designer team! She said I really got the Real Madrid identity. It’s my ability to think of the club’s visual communication globally that really made me stand out.“

“Of course you stood out!“, Angela winked as we stepped onto the Calle de Baillen bridge.

I stopped again to photograph the streets below. Unfortunately, they were deserted. Predictable. It was four o’clock, mid-July, the perfect time for an afternoon nap.

“Did I mention that my pay will be better too?” I added with excitement as we resumed our walk.

“Only a dozen times!“ Angela teased.

“Er, sorry! It’s just, I have never been that excited about work. I feel I’ll never get tired of it! It’s fun and creative, and I really get along with everybody!“ I exclaimed but my smile disappeared a second later.

“But you don’t know what to do about Misa…” Angela went straight to the point.

“Yeah…” I sighed “I can’t quit! But I don’t want Misa to be unhappy!”

We reached the other side of the bridge.

“Do you think she’s feeling that bad?” My friend asked.

“I don’t know. I won’t lie to you, it’s hard for me as well. Every day at work, I feel like a child trying not to get caught. When we go out, we’re always double-checking our surroundings and we prefer not to get too close. In the end, the only quality time we have together is at home. But that’s okey, I mean, that’s not the problem…“

Angela grabbed my arm gently and led me to a small, shady square. “Come on, let’s sit. What is the problem Nicky?“ She sensed I needed to talk.

“It’s just… how am I supposed to tell her I love her when I have nothing serious to offer her? Working at Real Madrid, Misa and I will never be real girlfriends!“

Angela put her hand on my thigh. “You know, that is exactly what I feared when you told me about your feelings. Hooking up is one thing, but falling in love is another… I feared it would make you sad not be allowed to be with her, and it’s happening…“ She sighed too and continued. “I thought a lot about what to tell you if we ended up talking about it. I know you, Nicky. I know how impatient and stressed out you can be. So, here is my advise: be patient, don’t rush. Enjoy your time together even if it’s in secret. If your relationship lasts, I think you’ll both know in a few months what to do.” Angela patted me.

I sighed again, tired about the complexity of the situation. “What if I don’t have time? I’m pretty sure Léa, our new goalkeeper, has a crush on Misa.“

Angela giggled lightly “You are already jealous and protective, that girl really has you falling deep! Did you tell Misa about Léa?”

I blushed. “I did… and she said it was nothing… and that she wanted… me” I melted at the memory of her brown gaze, so tender, when she had said those words.

“That’s so cute of her! Relax Nicky! Misa’s feeling good with you! Although, I think you should talk to her openly. She did her part by saying that, now it’s up to you. You have more to lose than she does, so she probably needs to be reassured that you really want to be with her.”

“I really want to be with her…“ I repeated, my eyes prickling. "This is so unfair! We’re not doing anything wrong!”

“I know, Sweetie. Talk to her. Be honest about what you want.“

Unsure of myself, I’d always been bad at doing the taking. But my friend had made a point, Misa was in much more uncertainty than I was. My heart tightened at the thought of the young goalie silently waiting for me to express my feelings, dreading week after week I would finally chose my job over her…

“You’re right, Angie. I’ll make it up to her.”

***

When Angela went home the next day, I felt sad and lonely but fueled by a new determination. I was not going to leave fate decide whether or not I’d succeed in telling Misa my feelings anymore. No, I was going to plan our reunion day with care and I was going to make it happen.

Back in the Cuidad, I had less work, and, I had to admit, less fun without Misa and Hayley. Both of them were away with their national teams, and I would have became bored without my besties if planning my love declaration didn’t take all my time and energy. Day and night, my love-sick brain kept going back to Misa. I wanted us to be somewhere quiet yet lively, somewhere beautiful.

To find the perfect place, I had the idea to contact Sofie’s friend, Carmen. We met a few days later. Swen took us on a tour of the fancy galleries in the center of Madrid and we ended up in one of Carmen’s cutest spot: a hidden rooftop bar in the La Latina neighborhood. Large sofas and fabric screens divided the vast terrace into comfy, trendy spaces. Cocktails were delicious, and they even played a few songs I knew Misa liked. I had no trouble imagining a romantic evening here with the pretty brunette.

My mind raced on its own. First, we would meet in a park to enjoy the weather and do some nature photography. Then we could grab a coffee, where I would tell her I wanted to take her to a surprise place. She would be curious as hell, drowning me with questions all the way there. I was sure she would fall for the place at first sight. After that, sharing a Piña Colada or a strawberry Mojito, I would confess that I’d fallen in love with her.

That was perfect!

***

“Hello Misa!“

“Hola, cariño!“

Hearing her voice on the phone was warmer than the hot summer wind of Madrid. I rolled over in bed, instinctively searching for her hard, reassuring body, and grasped a pillow instead. God, how much I missed her!

The footballer and I had texted a lot, telling each other about our day or just sharing sweet words. I had watched both of Spain’s matches on TV, Misa spending them on the bench as she had foreseen. Fortunately, the team won both games, which lifted her spirits. She told me about the nonsense she got up to with her close friends Jenni, Alexia and Laia in the locker room. On another evening, it was about a really pushing training session she had handled well, the next day, she sent me a cute video of her dancing in front of the mirror. Each message overflowed with her unique mix of passion and humor, and I started acting cheesy, watching our selfies together before sleeping every night.

Tonight was the first time we called during the international break. The goalkeeper wasn’t in a room by herself. She had managed to escape an evening watching a TV show with Alexia and Laia slipping outside to have some privacy.

“Cómo estás?“ The goalie asked joyfully.

“Estoy bien. He visto a la amiga de Sofie la semana pasada! See, I’m learning Spanish!“ I giggled.

“Pero bueno, mi Nicky! Qué hiciste con ella?“

“What did we do? Hum, estábamos… en la ciudad…y… No sé, I’m sorry. I think I need private lessons with a qualified teacher.”

“Jaja, I’m already your football teacher, I can’t be your Spanish teacher as well!“ Misa laughed.

I squeezed the pillow tighter. “I want no other teacher than you.”

“Vale, I’ll—“ But her voice was drowned by a sudden burst of noise.

People were shouting and laughing wildly, their voices mixing with the sound of erratic footsteps on gravel. I straightened in bed at once.

“Misa?!“ I called out, panicking she might be in trouble.

“Hola, hola!“ a new, energetic female voice rang out. “Es Nicky, vale?“

I answered awkwardly, “Er… who—?“

“Don’t worry, chica, it’s Jenni. You know, I’m Misa’s friend!“

I exhaled, relieved but also a bit puzzled. I hadn’t known Misa had told her friends about me.

“Joder Jenni! Dame mi móvil! No es divertido!“ I heard Misa’s voice in the background. “Déjame!“

“Sujetadla bien! Solo tardo un minuto!” Jenni shout at someone. Then she said back to the phone, “So, Nicky, I’m glad to finally talk to you. Misa wouldn’t let us, so we had to find a way.”

Her soft tone contrasted with the angry voices still echoing in the background.

“Misa, No eres la única malota!“ “Ni la más fuerte!“ “Por cierto, tenéis que ser tres para sujetarme!“

“Er, okay… and why did you want to talk to me.“ I asked Jenni, feeling more and more confusing to me.

“Relax Chica! No pasa nada! First of all, thanks for putting up with Misa. Not many people has the patience and dedication she requires.“ Jenni said.

I chuckled lightly, sensing there was no harm in talking to her.

“And secondly, you have to come on holidays with us in August! I’ve been pushing Misa to invite you for days but she’s too shy to ask you herself.“

“Oh!“ I bite my lip, this was all too cute to handle.

“You don’t need to answer now, Nicky. Just let Misa know when you’ve made up your mind! I’m giving the phone back to her. Hasta pronto, niña!“

A new wave of indistinct noises crackled through the phone until the rasping breath of the goalie filled my ear.

“I…will…kill…them…for…this!“ Misa panted.

I couldn’t stop myself from bursting into laughter, imagining the young brunette crimson with shame, sulking dramatically.

“Pfff, even you are making fun of me now…“

“I’m not making fun of you!“ I said, letting myself fall back onto the bed. “But I would pay to see your face right now! You must be so cute! Fuck, I miss you!“ I blurted out. Instantly, my cheeks grew hot.

“Ay! I… miss you too“. She said, her tone softening.

I stared at the ceiling for a second, smiling stupidly while I tired to gather my thoughts.

“The answer’s yes, Mis’. If the invite still stands…?” I added, closing my eyes and waiting for her reaction.

“Are you serious?!“ The goalie exclaimed.

“Pretty serious, your friends seem fun and wild! Annnnnd I think I’d like to go on vacation with you.“ My face burned even hotter.

“Guau, I’m so happy!“ Misa replied. “We’re going to Formentera! The villa we’ll rent is so nice! I’ll send you pictures!“

I grabbed my pillow and fiddled with a corner, a broad smile not leaving my face.

“Please do! But I need to check if the flights are affordable. Traveling in summer can be pretty expensive.“

“You’re kidding, Nicky. You’re not going to pay anything, I’m inviting you!“

I bit my lip again. Misa really was one of the generous ones. “No, Misa, I can’t accept.“

“No way you’re paying. Don’t insist“

“I must Mis’, I would feel like I’m taking advantage of you…“

“Vale…” Misa exhaled heavily into the phone, and I thought I’d won, but then she quickly continued. “Can you accept… for me? To forgive me for not having invited you myself…”

“Oh“ I paused. Misa was a proud person. She wasn’t always keen to apology and she hated feeling like she had messed up. So, I knew how much it was costing her to say that. “Okay Honey, you win“ I surrendered.“ But in return, I’m taking you out the day you get back.“

“Deal. I’m landing at 3 PM, I just need to make a quick stop at home, and then I’m your woman.“

I crushed my pillow, grinning. How satisfying it was to hear Misa Rodríguez saying she was mine.

“Then, the rendezvous is at Parque del Retiro at 5’.

“Awesome!»

***

A few days later, A bright, beating sun soaked the alleys of the Parque del Retiro. The air was suffocating. July in Madrid was no joke and I was sweating like a beast in my tank top and short. The strap of my camera dug into my bare shoulder as I walked down the wide path, the shade of the trees making the heat just about bearable. I stopped in a smaller shadowy path, wiped the sweat from my forehead, gulped some water, and sent Misa my precise location.

Standing in my cooler spot, I spent the next few minutes peering impatiently down the alley. My feet were literally itching and my heart was drumming in my chest at the prospect of being reunited with Misa. Meeting her outside meant a lot. I had chosen the most famous park of Madrid as a symbol. Many lovers met here to share romantic moments in front of the lake. I hoped Misa would understand how much I wished we were a regular couple.

As soon as it appeared, I recognized the tall, sturdy silhouette from afar. Her walk was unmistakable. She stepped into a patch of sun, and I spotted her smiling face. She waved, did a small hop, and started to run toward me. My eyes stayed locked on her as she came closer and closer, until we flung ourselves into each other’s arms.

Her scent filled my lungs. The feel of our bodies pressed together was the best in the world. Her breathing mixed with the sound of the wind blowing gently through the leaves. We pulled apart, and locked eyes, no words needed. Misa’s gaze dropped to my mouth, hesitant, while I wasn’t — I crashed my lips against hers. My heart danced. My brain slowed down. Our passionate kissing went on and on.

Then Misa start to cover my mouth with little kisses, making me giggle like a teenager. Her kisses moved to my cheeks and then down to my neck.

“You smell like my shampoo” was the first thing she said.

Misa rolled her eyes and bowed theatrically in front of me. “Good afternoon, Lady Nicky,” she said, failing hilariously at a chic English accent, the rolled r in “afternoon” sounding very Spanish.

“You may rise Gentlewoman!” I responded. She looked up to me playfully and I shyly added. “I may have bought your shampoo while you were away…”

Misa looked touched, her mouth forming the pout I loved.

“You missed me that much?”

“Maybe” I blushed, embarrassed. “Come on, we have a nature photography course waiting!” I said, changing the subject and leading my giggling Misa to a more flourishing part of the park.

I spotted a nice lawn where a few birds were pecking at the remains of a cake.

“This is perfect. We’ll go quietly so we don’t scare them away.” I took out my camera, and slipped the strap over the brunette’s head. “I’ve already done the presets: shutter speed is medium because there’s plenty of lights, though it’s getting cloudy…” I glanced at the sky. The blue was barely visible behind a sheer layer of white clouds.

“Maybe heat will drop.” Misa said hopefully, frowning as she looked up at the dazzling white sky. Then she glanced back to the camera in her hands. “So, do I need to change the presets?”

“If there’s less light, you have to …?” I tested her photography knowledge.

“Lower the speed? No… increase the speed… !” She said, glancing at me unsurely.

Misa was focusing for once, and it made my heart melt.

“Yes, increase the speed, because if the shutter speed is too slow, your photo is going to be…?

“Blurry?” Her brows were half-frowned, half-raised as she watched me expectantly to see if she was right.

“Well done, María Isabel!”

“Yes!” Misa did a little victory jig. “I’ll try to take a photo of that pigeon over there.”

She advanced and crouched carefully. I watched her put the camera in front of her face, concentrating as she turned the lens to zoom in. The pigeon was still searching the grass for crumbs when a crow landed smoothly, making the other birds fly away. The sound of the shutter kept clicking restlessly.

Misa came back to me, looking at the camera screen eagerly. “Mira Nicky! look!“

I glanced at a nice shot of the flying crow, its wings spread wide and its beak open. She scrolled back, showing me the other photos.

“Well done Misa, this is good! The exposure is a bit strong, you should should close down the aperture, but good job on the focus, the crow’s sharp!”

“Gracias, Nicky!” she beamed, gratitude in her eyes mixing with something mischievous. “I’d like more color. Can you correct the presets for me, cari?”

Her ducky, demanding expression had me giving in at once. I took back the camera, focusing a moment on the screen to make the changes.

“Okay, I think you’ll like it better now…” I went to hand the camera back to Misa but the goalkeeper had disappeared.

“Misa?” I called, glancing around to see where she’d gone. “Misa it’s not funny! Where are you, what’s going on ?”

I stepped onto the grass. More people were scattered across the nearby lawns, making it harder to spot the missing goalie. I called her again, confused and wondering what new madness she was up to.

“¡Bu!” The goalie sprang at me from behind a large tree, making me nearly die of fright, and making her die of laughter.

“Fucking hell, Mis!” I shouted at her, clutching my camera as the goalie laughed out loud.

Still chuckling, Misa tried to take me in her arms, but I shoved her away, embarrassed to have been pranked so easily. She tried again and succeeded in wrapping me up in her arms. I struggled to break free, wrestling against her firm grip, trying to make her fall, but her strong feet stayed planted firmly on the ground.

After a moment of fighting, I decided she deserved a low blow. I put my camera safely back in its bag and then started to tickle her along her ribs. I reveled in my girlfriend’s surprised scream, and she instantly tried to back away. I took the chance to slam into her hard, the element of surprise allowing me to knock her off balance. We both landed on the grass, giggling madly.

Misa let me take her in my arms as I pulled her against me. I pecked her cheek. My lips grazed her skin, soft, warm, its smell intoxicating. The goalie clearly wasn’t complaining about being cuddled. At some point, she pulled out her phone and took a selfie of us, after which she exhaled deeply and closed her eyes.

How perfect this moment was. My arms were wrapped around her, my nose buried in her hair, the shade of the tree keeping us safe from the lowering hot sun. Everybody was chilling around us. Children played happily at some game a bit farther away. Even the birds were adding their melodious voice as a contribution to the lovely atmosphere.

“Nicky?“ Misa’s anxious voice pulled me out of my daydreaming. “Isn’t that your boss, Ana, over there?“

My heart leapt.

In the middle of the path, only a few feet from us, was Ana with her family: a tall bearded guy and a small blond boy on a kid’s bike.

I froze in fear. If Ana turned her head, I would be done for. We couldn’t even pretend to be friends enjoying a nice summer afternoon. Our intertwined bodies left little doubt about our relationship status.

“Cari, what should we do?“ Misa asked feebly. Obviously, she wasn’t daring to move an inch either.

The path curved slightly, where it would become almost impossible for Ana not to see us. I had to think of something, and quick!

“Roll over, and pretend to nap on the grass.“ I muttered as the family got closer.

Misa lifted herself off me and lay on her belly. An expert eye could tell it was her but, I would bet she could be recognized from afar.

I straightened up slowly, Ana still hadn’t looked at me. I took my courage in both hands and walked straight toward her.

“Hello Ana, I see we’re all enjoying this warm day at the park!“

Ana’s surprised face confirmed she hadn’t noticed us cuddling a moment before.

“Hola Nicky. Indeed! Here’s my husband Pedro and my son Mateo.”

“Nice to meet you.“ I greeted them as they both waved to me. “I’m practicing a bit, the colors are lovely today.“ I added, lifting my camera awkwardly.

“You’re right to do so…“ Ana replied, apparently wondering why I shared so much about my current activities. I had to end that strange conversation quickly.

“Yep, I’m going to the lake. Have a nice day!“

“We’re going to the lake too, Mateo loves it. Go ahead, we’ll follow you.“

Fuck! Just my luck!

“Er, sorry I was thinking of the small one at the south of the park.“ I tried, praying hard they wouldn’t change their mind and come with me.

“El gran lago, Mama! El gran lago!“ Mateo chimed in.

“Si, vamos al gran lago, mi niño. Sorry Nicky, we’ll leave you there. Good day to you.“

“No problem, good day Ana. Bye“

And they went ahead, when I headed in the opposite direction.

As soon as I had turned a corner, I stopped, and sighed with relief. My heart was pounding like crazy. How close it had been again! The whole situation had been pretty awkward, leaving me shaking like a leaf.

A leaf that was caught by strong hands a minute later.

“They’re gone toward the main path. There is no danger left, Cari.“

I faced her, still trembling. If the danger was gone, why was she looking at me so anxiously? Was she afraid I would dismiss her for almost getting me fired? A strong gust of wind made her hair dance around her head and I moved the strands away from her face. That is not going to happen Mis’. In one hour, two at the most, you’ll know how you make me feel, I thought, wanting nothing more than to make the glint of worry leave her eyes.

A loud rumble of thunder erupted from the sky and big raindrops began to fall suddenly.

“Ay no! Mierda!” The goalie exclaimed.

“Fuck!“ I peered at the sky, which had turned an ominous dark gray.

More rain began to fall and Misa took my arm. “Come on, I know a place where we can shelter!“

Drops were pouring hard now. We were running along with the masses of people hurrying through the alleys. We reached a crossroad and Misa turned left. Then, she took a narrow deserted path. Even the denser vegetation wasn’t enough to shield us from the pounding rain.

“Alli!” she shouted as we reached a new crossroad. Her hand grasped back mine firmly, and she led me toward a really tiny kiosk. We rushed inside the small but protected space.

Drenched to the bones, we shivered in spite of the still-relative heat. We stayed there a moment, watching the unceasing pounding rain turn the dusty earth pathways into pools of mud. My romantic plan was falling apart too. We could stay inside the bar… the décor was less cute, but we would at least enjoy a good cocktail together, provided we got dry first…

“Madre mía! We’re at the park on the only stormy day in Madrid!”

“It’s really bad luck…” I responded, feeling down. I watched Misa’s sturdy silhouette outlined against the rainy horizon. My mood brightened. Nothing could really go wrong as long as I was with her.

Feeling playful again, I slowly approached the brunette from behind, and nudged her waist with a scream to scare the hell out of her.

“Ahhh! No, Nicky!” Misa fled from my outstretched, tickle-ready hands. I pursued her inside the minuscule kiosk, tears of laughter in my eyes at the sight of her panicked expression. “Noooo! Déjame!”

“You seem cold! I just want to warm you!” I joked as I ran after her. I didn’t know Misa was so ticklish and it was really fun to finally have a way to be physically threatening to her.

Eventually, she climbed onto the low wall circling the kiosk, arms outstretched in front of her to protect herself from my assaults. “Nicky! Cari! No! Porfi!” she begged with a panicked laugh.

“Okay! I think you’re warm enough! I’ll stop,” I giggled. “You can climb down, I won’t tickle you”.

Misa looked at me doubtfully.

I held out my hands to show her my good intentions and to help her go down “Sweetie, I promise you I won’t”

A strong gust of wind swept the tiny space, and the goalie shivered again. Finally, she trusted my offered hands to help her down. Yet, she was on her guard when she landed in front of me.

The rain was still falling madly all around us. The inclined wind had soaked half the shelter, and we were staying in the only dry space left. The storm wasn’t slowing down, and the prospect of going to the trendy rooftop bar felt impossible.

Misa’s hands were in mine, soft and relaxed now that she’d understood I wasn’t going to trick her. My fingers gently brushed hers. My glance came back to her face, framed by her long wet and wavy hair, her smirk brightening the moody weather. I took in her soft look, her eyelashes and brows where a few drops had clung, the ones pounding on the roof a tuneless, soothing music.

I felt aligned with everything.

It wasn’t going to happen as I expected, but I didn’t care. A few things hadn’t happened as planned since I came to Madrid, and I wasn’t complaining about them. Therefore, I was contemplating the beautiful person in front of me, the one who had unexpectedly come into my life, when my lips parted to speak the words.

“I love you.”

My heart clung to her brown eyes opening wide, her brows going up with a smile of surprise.

She shut her eyes and I felt the grip of her hands tighten as she exhaled. The goalie led her face closer and opened her eyes again, the gold ring on her nose glinted as she cocked her head to the side, the corners of her mouth twitching when she said:

“I love you too”.

My heart skipped a beat, or two or three, her big dark eyes losing themselves in mine, shiner than usual.

“Te quiero!” she repeated in her own tongue, and her hand fell on the nape of my neck, pulling me into the softest kiss we had shared yet. My eyes prickled as I clung to her lips, savoring the taste of her mouth, the smell of her breath, of her sweet and floral perfume melting into the musky scent of the rain. The feel of her body striving to hold me closer made me feel so desperately in love with her that it took me a moment to realize I was tugging hard at her wet T-shirt, as if I were afraid Misa and her love for me would vanish if I ever let her go.

The goalie’s lips left mine to kissed my forehead as she hugged me gently and I melted in her cute embraced, overwhelmed.

“I want to be with you,” I said my hands pressing her muscular back. “For real”.

Our bodies parted as we stared at each other, and I felt cold without her warmth against me. The goalie’s grin had reappeared but faded away just as quickly.

“Mi too, Cari, but I don’t want you to quit your job for me. It makes you so happy…”

“I’m happy with you” I replied at once but I felt we needed to talk more now that we were at it. “Look, I can’t quit right now, but I won’t loose you for a stupid work contract!”

Misa’s nose twitched again.

“Yeah I know.” She said, and she went to sit on the low wall behind her, her head falling down. “Nicky, I need to tell you something… Because of clubs rivalries, I’ve been kind of forced to hide my previous relationships. When you arrived at the Ciudad and we started hanging out, I thought: Increíble! I may have found somebody I can openly be with! But then, you told me about the clause… and it was like I was bound to go through it all over again.” The pretty brunette lifted her head, guilt in her eyes. “I’m sorry I’ve been weird, I’m just tired of it sometimes.”

I crouched in front of her to take her in my arms. “Misa, baby, I’m sorry…” It broke my heart to see that strong woman so vulnerable all of sudden. I wasn’t responsible, but I truly hated putting her in that position. “I’m so sorry! You have to give me time. I mean, given the circumstances, we can’t rush things…”

The goalkeeper bit her lips and sighed again, worry flashing across her pretty face.

“I’m not in a rush. I get you, Nicky” she answered before rising up to peer at the pouring water. The paths all around us had become rivers of mud.

Misa turned back to me, her face sad. “But what happens next? Do you really know what it takes to be with a professional athlete? Right now, our schedules match; we can spend free time together, we travel together. But if you quit, our schedules won’t align anymore. I’ll be away almost once a week, all my weekends taken by matches, several weeks out of town for international breaks and competitions, plus the regular work and training obligations you already know…” The young woman took my hands back in hers and asked, “Do you really think you could be happy in a relationship like that?”

The pounding rain was finally easing as Misa’s chest rose and fell, surrendering our relationship’s future to me. A perplexed expression drew across her features when she saw me smile mildly.

“You’re worth it,“ I replied without a doubt. “I can’t promise you it will work but I’ll be more than happy to try.” The goalie’s smile was back. She blinked several times.

“Te quiero Misa and nothing can compete against that” I stated.

Misa hugged me tight again. Her strong arms wrapped around me protectively, possessively, and she led her lips from my column to the my ear.

“Let’s go home now, Cari” She whispered.

Dripping from the roof, the rain was falling back at full force, wrapping the kiosk in a veil of water. We glanced at the sunken alleys of the park, and hand in hand, we jumped through the curtain of heavy drops, leaving the shelter where we had just laid out our hearts for the first time.

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

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new-author3 · 3 days ago

Text

Title: More Than a Number

Synopsis: After a difficult race, Lewis is consumed by frustration and the feeling of being just another number to his team. In the silence of his driver’s room, it’s SN’s presence that brings him back to himself.

Content Warnings: Mild emotional tension, post-race comfort, strong emotional bond, soft romance, and Formula 1 setting.

Word Count: Approximately 1,000 words

The door shut behind him with a dull thud. The room felt far too small to hold everything he was feeling. The helmet was thrown onto the couch with more force than necessary. The gloves followed, yanked off with frustration. And then, silence. A silence louder than any team radio.

Lewis sat on the edge of the couch, elbows on his knees, hands over his face. Eyes closed, trying to steady the storm in his chest — a bitter mix of helplessness and indignation. A feeling that would linger far longer than this race, all because of a strategy that so clearly favored his teammate. This... this wasn't teamwork.

The door opened slowly. He didn’t need to look — he knew it was her. SN entered with the calm of someone who already understood his silences, closing the door behind her as if sealing the world out.

“You heard everything, didn’t you?” he asked, still not looking up.

She approached quietly and knelt in front of him, resting her hands gently on his knees.

“I did... we all did,” her voice was low, steady. “I heard you being brilliant. And I heard them acting like it meant nothing.”

Lewis finally looked at her. His eyes were damp, not from tears, but from rage held in. Frustration only she could read.

“They told me to hold position for the DRS. Used me to protect Charles.” He shook his head, voice tight. “I didn’t come here to be just a number. But today... that’s exactly what I was.”

SN moved closer, cupping his face in her hands, forcing him to meet her gaze.

“You’re not just a number, Lewis. You never were. They might try to reduce you to that, but you're the reason so many people still believe in Formula 1. And me... I believe in you. Always.”

Lewis exhaled deeply, his hands sliding to hold hers, gripping them tightly.

“I felt alone out there.”

“But you’re not,” she whispered, leaning in to press her lips softly to his — just for a second, like sealing a promise. “I’m here. And as long as you keep fighting, I’ll be right beside you. On good days, on days like this... and on every one still to come.”

He rested his forehead against hers, eyes closed, breathing just a little calmer.

“Thank you… I needed this. That race was hard.”

“Always. Because I know you beyond the helmet, Lewis. And nothing — not team orders, not paddock politics, not bad tyre calls — can take that away from you. I believe in you. Your fans believe in you. I know it's tough... but we’ll get through it together.”

There, in the refuge of his driver’s room, Lewis finally allowed himself to breathe. The weight hadn’t lifted entirely, but it was a little easier to carry after hearing her voice. With her by his side, the outside world could wait. And maybe, just maybe, he had found something even more important than victory… a home.

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

Author’s Note:

This story was born from my own frustration with Ferrari during the Miami GP. It was disappointing to see how they treated Hamilton — especially considering everything he represents in this sport. The strategy, the orders, the disrespect... it was all incredibly frustrating. And if we, as fans, felt that way, I can only imagine how heavy it must have been for him. This story is my way of giving him some comfort — even if only in fiction. Because in the end, we all need someone who reminds us who we are, especially on our hardest days.

#lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis x reader #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton fanfiction #lewis hamilton imagines #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x y/n #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton x black oc #f1 imagine

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graciegoeskrazy · 17 hours ago

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for you are so beautiful

(george daniel x daughter!indian!reader x charli xcx)

warnings: mention (kinda) of absent mother, r is half-indian btw, idrk

a/n: this was requested so long ago it’s actually insane. i’m so sorry anon but i hope u likely and i love u v v much💔🥹🫂 ty @writeslikeabitch for the encouragement as alwayssss. read request here!

Being quiet wasn’t unusual for you. You were a shy kid — able to be yourself in front of those you trusted, but keeping to yourself when things felt too much or when you didn’t feel like those around you could be trusted.

That’s where you were with Charli right now. She wasn’t completely new or scary. You definitely didn’t hate her. It’s just that you didn’t quite know how to navigate things like this.

You were only five, after all. Young enough to feel emotions intensely, but not quite old enough to understand where they came from or how to explain them.

That’s how you felt about Charli.

Your father had sat you down a couple of months ago and told you he had a new friend he wanted you to meet. He’d been different around that time. Happier. Softer. He wasn’t stressing over little things and moved through his days with a kind of lightness you hadn’t seen in a while.

He introduced you to Charli at a house party he and Uncle Matty were hosting. She made sure to come over early so she could meet you before your dad tucked you in for the night. You had hidden behind his legs, your thumb instinctively finding its familiar place in your mouth — a habit that hadn’t quite left you yet. She crouched down gently and offered a small “Hello,” a soft smile tugging at her lips.

“I’m Charli! It’s nice to meet you, Y/n.”

You met her gaze for only a second. George had warned her that you were shy around new people and told her not to take it personally.

“Can you say ‘hi,’ Y/n.?” he asked, gently tapping your shoulder to coax you out from behind him. You stepped out only a little, the soft ruffles on the straps of your nightgown fluttering slightly with the movement.

“Hi,” you finally said, your voice barely audible over the music blasting through the speakers Matty had set up — the noise doing nothing to calm your nerves.

Charli smiled at you. “I like your pajamas. I love purple — it’s my favorite color,” she said, giving you a playful wink.

You looked down at them, brushing your fingers over the little ruffled straps, then back at her. “My daddy got them for me.”

She nodded with a grin. “Well, your daddy’s got great taste, then. Huh?”

You just nodded, eyes falling to the floor again.

“Should we say goodnight to Miss Charli?” George prompted gently.

If there was one thing your father had taught you well, it was your manners.

“Goodnight, Miss Charli,” you said softly.

Her smile warmed. She shared a glance with George — one filled with something sweet and unspoken. “Goodnight, Y/n. It was really nice meeting you.”

George picked you up with practiced ease and told Charli he’d be right back as he passed by her, calling over his shoulder to Matty not to embarrass him or “fuck up anything in the ten minutes he’d be gone.”

You clung to him as he carried you up the stairs, your arms around his neck, face buried in his shoulder. When he got to your room, you reluctantly let go as he lowered you to the bed.

“Daddy and Uncle Matty are just downstairs. You give us a shout if you need anything, yeah?”

Instead of nodding, you looked at him, frowning a little in thought. “Is Miss Charli your girlfriend?”

George blinked. He nearly choked on his own breath.

He looked between the doorway and your wide, serious eyes. “What makes you say that?” he asked, trying to keep his voice steady.

“She smiles at you funny. Like how Uncle Adam and Auntie Carly smile at each other,” you said plainly, your small voice cutting straight through.

A grin twitched at the corner of George’s mouth. “You think she likes me?”

You giggled and nodded. That sound — your laughter — was music to his ears. He’d take a hundred awkward questions if it meant hearing that again.

“How would you feel if she was my girlfriend?”

You paused, your face twitching as your mind tried to work through the question. Your head tilted slightly. “I… I don’t know. I don’t really know what that means.” A flicker of fear started to creep into your eyes, and George’s smile immediately softened.

“Hey… you don’t have to worry about that right now,” he said gently. “You just need to close your pretty little eyes—” he tapped your shoulder with two fingers, nudging you gently backward until you thumped onto the mattress with a small squeal “—and focus on getting some rest, yeah? No thinking about any of that adult stuff right now.”

You smiled up at him, reassured by his calm voice and familiar presence. “Okay, Daddy.”

“That’s my girl.” He pulled the covers up over your tiny frame, tucking them around you the way he always did — snug but gentle. He pressed a kiss to your temple, just like he had every night since the day you were born.

…

A few weeks had passed since then. George and Charli were spending more and more time together, falling harder than either of them expected.

It was tricky when you had a kid — especially one as young as you.

Charli sat next to you on the floor — per your request — coloring in a page from one of your books. A unicorn was happily eating a sandwich under a rainbow. Charli had her legs folded beneath her and her coffee cup beside her, left over from the drink George had made her earlier. She glanced at you, your small frame hunched over the coffee table, tongue poking out in deep concentration.

“I love your picture, Y/n,” she said, sipping her coffee. “Are those flowers?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, not looking up.

“They’re beautiful.”

You reached up to brush the hair from your face and, in doing so, caught sight of Charli’s arm. Your attention lingered there. You stared back and forth between her arm and your own.

“What’s wrong?” she asked softly. “Did I do something?”

“You look like me,” you said quietly.

“What?”

“Your arm. The color.” You held up your arm next to hers, lining them up side by side. “It matches.”

Charli looked down, her breath catching just slightly. “Oh! It kinda does, doesn’t it?”

You nodded, still not quite meeting her eyes.

“That’s cool, huh?” she offered gently.

“Why do they match?” you asked, your fingers still holding onto hers.

Charli took a breath. “Well, we’re both Indian.”

“What’s that mean?” you asked, curiosity blooming behind your eyes.

“It just means that our families are from a certain place — a country called India.”

“Oh.” You looked back down at your arms, pressed side by side. “They match.”

“They do, don’t they?” she said with a smile, something warm growing in her chest.

“I like when I match you,” you said, the words tumbling out without you thinking.

Charli blinked, stunned by the simple sweetness of it. Her heart melted right there on the floor.

“I like when I match you too,” she whispered, brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear.

You turned back to your coloring book, your tiny face scrunching in focus again. Charli didn’t pick up her crayon right away. She just stayed by your side, watching you for a while with a full heart and quiet admiration.

Eventually, she stood and wandered back to the kitchen, where George had been watching the whole thing unfold from a distance, wide-eyed and quiet, his arms folded but his expression soft.

She leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

“You have a type, Mr. Daniel?”

George’s mouth twitched. “Oh, piss off,” he muttered, trying to hide the smile that tugged at his lips — but not quite succeeding.

#the 1975 #x daughter!reader #george daniel x daughter!reader #george daniel x you #george daniel x reader #george daniel #charli xcx x daughter!r

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himluv · 2 days ago

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Writing Challenge Weekend

Once again, I've found myself writing something completely unexpected thanks to @thedissonantverses and their Writing Challenge Weekend prompts! This week was the dnd prompts, and #8 really scratched at something in my brain: Characters A and B discover a haunted house in the Anderfels and investigate...

This is set in the FAR future of my Rookanis + Bellario fic series And Your Heart (how it beats): Dellamortes in Love. And, it's under the cut because holy hell this is long, lol. ENJOY!

“Has your papa ever told you the story about that time we found a haunted house in the Anderfels?”

Sofía gasped, her dark eyes wide as she looked up at him. “No,” she said. She gripped her little brother tighter, willing him to still. “Will you tell us, Uncle Illario?”

“Tell us, tell us!” Chanted Antonio, his voice pitched high with excitement. He bounced a little where he sat beside his sister on the rug before the hearth. They’d retired to the Talon’s study in the western wing of the house after dinner, Illario wrangling the children while Rook tried to put the baby down for the night and his cousin caught up on contracts.

Behind him, still at his desk, Lucanis sighed. “That is hardly an appropriate tale for children.”

Illario glanced at his cousin over the back of the sofa and smirked. “You know that will only entice them.”

“Please, papa?” Sofía begged. “Just this one story? And then we’ll go to bed, I promise!”

“Yeah!” Antonio said, always eager to mimic his big sister. “Please!”

Lucanis sighed again. “Fine,” he said. “But just the one.”

“Of course,” Illario purred, turning back to face the children. They looked so much like both their parents. Big, dark eyes like their father, freckled noses like their mother, and while Antonio had the Dellamorte nose, Sofía’s was all Aldwir, small and straight amid her high, Antivan cheekbones.

They were beautiful. So beautiful, it made his chest ache to look at them too long.

“So,” Illario said, lowering his voice. “There we were, in a sickly forest near the Hunterhorn Mountains. The trees were barren, even though it was the height of spring, and everywhere we looked it was the same. We were hopelessly lost.”

“Why were you there?” Sofía asked.

“A contract, of course,” he said. He rested his elbows on his knees to close some distance between him and the children. “A nearby village had been cursed by a witch, so naturally they hired your father to deal with her. I came along, in case he needed help.”

“How noble of you,” Lucanis murmured from his desk.

“What about Mamae?” Sofía asked, oblivious to her father’s snark.

“This was before your mamae married your papa,” he said. “She had moved to Treviso not long before this. She was waiting for him to return, and your father was horribly grumpy the whole trip because of it.”

“That’s true,” Lucanis added. He stood, stretching, and then joined Illario on the sofa. He smiled at his children. “You know how I get when your mamae is away.”

Sofía wrinkled her nose. “Auntie Bellara says you get broody.”

“Yeah,” Antonio said. “Broody!” Except, the boy had yet to master his r’s, so it sounded more like ‘bwoody’.

Illario laughed. “I agree with your aunt.”

“Of course you do,” Lucanis groused, resting his head against his fist.

“Anyway,” Illario said. “Where was I?”

“The forest!” Antonio shrieked.

Illario winced. “Right, yes. Of course! The forest!” He spread his hands out wide, to show how massive the woods were. “We’d been walking for hours, hunting the witch, but we’d seen no one. Heard nothing. Not even birds in the trees. It was as if the whole forest were dead.”

The children looked up at him with shining eyes, their mouths open a little in their awe. He had them hooked, now.

“And, to make matters worse, a strange, green fog had rolled in with the sunset.” Illario shivered at the memory, let it show enough for the children to see. “I was just about to suggest we leave, forget about the contract, when we saw a light through the fog.”

Lucanis scowled at him, but said nothing. Of course, that wasn’t quite how it had gone. Illario had been complaining the whole time, even before the fog made everything that much more unsettling.

“We followed that light until the fog cleared and revealed an old manor, little better than a crumbling ruin out in the middle of the woods.” He shook his head. “I turned to your papa and said–”

“–we should leave, cousin,” Illario said. They’d been tromping around this accursed forest all day and seen nothing, only to conveniently stumble upon a dilapidated mansion after the sun set? It was every kind of wrong. Illario had read far too many serials to think it was a good idea to go anywhere near that house. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

Lucanis rolled his eyes at his cousin, then rubbed at them with one hand. “This place makes my eyeballs itch,” he grumbled. Judging by the burn behind his eyes, the fog was more magic than weather. The witch they hunted must be a powerful mage, indeed.

Sniiiiiiiiifffffff. “Smells. Like. BLOOD!” The demon added.

“–NO!” Spite said, glaring at Illario from his cousin’s face. “That’s not. It.”

Illario glared at the demon. “I’m the one telling the story,” he said.

Spite growled, low and unnatural from Lucanis’s throat. “Then tell. It BETTER!”

“Spite!” Sofía whined. “Let him tell it!”

The demon looked at the children and let out a disappointed sigh. Then, the purple light in Lucanis’s eyes dimmed, until just his cousin remained.

He smirked at Illario. “You were saying?”

–sniiiiiiiiifffffff. “Smells. Like. BLOOD!” The demon added.

Perfect. That was just perfect. A creepy, no doubt haunted mansion, roiling with blood magic. “Even more reason not to investigate,” Illario said.

Lucanis glared at him. “We have a contract.”

“You’re First Talon,” Illario said. “You can nullify the contract whenever you want.” He watched his cousin consider the house. Watched him grip his daggers just a little bit tighter. It wasn’t like they needed this job. Lucanis could never take another contract in his life and House Dellamorte’s coffers would not notice.

But, that village was in trouble. Crops were dying, livestock and people had gone missing. And Lucanis would be damned if he left them to be poached by some filthy blood mage.

–Illario paused and raised an eyebrow at the children. “You may not be aware,” he said. “But, your papa is rather fond of cursing when you two aren’t around.”

“Illario.”

“Oh, we know,” Sofía said. “Where do you think Yo-Yo learned it?”

Antonio beamed up at Illario and said, “mierda,” in his adorably squeaky, high-pitched voice.

Illario laughed as Lucanis scowled. “Antonio!”

The boy frowned. “You say it all the time!”

“Because I have earned the right,” Lucanis said. “Live long enough and you will, too.”

Sofía rolled her eyes at that, which only made her father’s scowl worse. She ignored him, and Illario saw more than a little of himself in the stubborn clench of her jaw.

“Anyway,” he said. “Of course, your noble papa insisted we investigate that horrible house, and do you know what we discovered?”

“A witch?!” Sofía asked.

Antonio gasped and gripped his sister’s hand tight in his, eyes shining in the firelight.

“No,” Illario said with a shake of his head. “Not one witch, but five…”

–the house smelled worse than it looked. Like damp and mildew suffused with the iron tang of old blood. And lots of it. Lucanis’s eyes burned enough that they’d started to water, which was stupid seeing as the burn was magical. Crying wouldn’t lessen the sensation any, so what good was a sense that left him blinking away tears when a fight was imminent?

Illario didn’t need a sixth sense to know nothing good happened in this place.

“The Veil is thin here,” Lucanis said. “Come. This way.” He pointed toward a stairwell leading down into the bowels of the house, moved off without waiting for his cousin’s response.

“How do you know?” Illario asked, hurrying after Lucanis. Of course, he should have anticipated the answer.

“Spite can smell them.”

That pulled Illario up short. “Them? As in, more than one?”

Lucanis nodded. “Be ready.”

“Ready how?” Illario hissed, but his cousin was done talking. There was only the job.

They stalked down the stairs, Lucanis’s blades drawn and Illario’s scythes at the ready. If he’d been thinking, he would have brought a different weapon. The scythes were designed to draw blood, to wear out your opponent by bleeding them dry, allowing nearby mages to use their blood to power their spells.

It was an effective, but nasty method he’d acquired in his time among the Venatori. And wholly inappropriate for the fight ahead. It would give the mages an advantage.

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, a low, chanted hum came to them, muffled by an ornate door. The air vibrated with power, sickly and wrong and so, so familiar to them both.

“Blood magic,” the demon seethed. “Sloppy! Un. sophis. ticated.”

Lucanis growled. “Self-taught,” whispered. He glanced back at Illario. “Hedge mages.”

Illario stared at his cousin. That meant very little to him – he wasn’t the one trained to assassinate elite mages. “Is that good? Or bad?”

Lucanis tilted his head form side to side. “Good? They’ll be unrefined casters.”

“Oh, well,” Illario said. “That’s goo–”

“–But, also bad,” Lucanis continued. “They’ll be unpredictable. Harder to pin down.”

“Oh,” Illario said again. “Good.”

Lucanis grinned and Illario frowned, and then the cousins kicked in the door and swept into the room.

–Illario raised a brow at the children, taking in their eager faces, and the barest tinge of apprehension on Antonio’s face.

“You don’t have to worry, you know,” he said.

Sofía frowned, blinking. “What?”

He shrugged. “You know how this ends.” He gestured between himself and Lucanis. “We’re both here, in front of you.”

“But what about the witches?” Antonio asked.

He cast a look at his cousin and read the meaning in his face easily. He had better come up with an age appropriate ending, and quickly.

Illario sighed. “Right,” he said, shaking his head. “The witches.”

–Inside the cellar, stood five women in dingy grey robes in a circle. Between them, on the floor, was a complex geometric pattern painted in blood, several candles placed in vital points of the sigil. They were chanting, eyes closed and arms raised as they attempted to summon… something.

The demon roared through Lucanis, furious that another spirit was about to be pulled from the Fade.

“NOOOOOO!” Spite howled. “NO MORE! NOT AGAIN!”

The women turned, startled and wide-eyed, their faces pale from lives spent in the dark. Their hands and arms dripped with fresh blood, their latest victim – a ram – lay at the center of the circle.

While Lucanis and Spite seethed and spat and prepared to launch their attack, Illario was struck with an idea.

“Ladies!” He called above the chaos. He put a hand to his cousin’s shoulder, stood between him and the witches. “Please! This doesn’t have to end in bloodshed.” He considered them and the dead ram. He winced. “Well,” he said. “More bloodshed.”

One of them women stepped forward, pointing at them. “You broke into our home, knives brandished.” She glared at Illario. “We’ll not bargain with the likes of you!”

“No? Are you so certain?” Illario asked, gesturing to his cousin. “Because this is the Demon of Vyrantium, the best Magekiller in all of Thedas,” he said. “And he was hired to end the threat to the village.”

“Illario,” Lucanis hissed. “What are you doing?”

He glared at his cousin, leaned over and hid his mouth behind one hand. “Five to two,” he said. “And me with my scythes?” He shook his head. “I do not like those odds.”

“Five to THREE!” The demon corrected.

Illario ignored him and returned his attention to the mages. “My point is,” he continued. “He will kill you all, and it will be painful.”

The woman opened her mouth, took a step closer and Spite growled through Lucanis. She was smart enough to go still.

“But,” Illario said. “What’s keeping you here? In this dump?” He gestured around the dreary cellar. “The village has rebuked you and, quite frankly, this manor should be razed to the ground.”

“Illario,” Lucanis warned. It certainly seemed that the women were none too pleased with his assessment of their lives.

“What you need is a fresh start,” he said. “A place where no one knows you or your… hobbies.”

She blinked, considering him and his words. “And where would that be?”

He shrugged. “Orlais, Ferelden, perhaps even the Free Marches?” He smiled at her. “Maker knows the South needs all the help it can get rebuilding.”

“Mathilde,” one of the others stepped up. “You aren’t seriously considering this?”

She glared at the woman. “And why not? What has Leesburg ever done for us? Why should we stay?” She eyed Illario. “Especially when we haven’t even heard the terms, yet.”

He smirked and tossed a heavy coin purse at the woman’s feet. “That’s the cost of the contract on your lives,” he said. Which was a lie. The contract had actually been for less – his cousin could be a very noble idiot and the Wardens had called in a favor. “Take it and leave this place.”

The leader, Mathilde, looked at the little satchel of gold, stooped to pick it up and feel its heft. “All right,” she said. “We’ll go.”

“No!” Yelled the other woman, and she lashed out with a gout of flame.

Beside Illario, Lucanis blurred into a streak of violet light as the demon catapulted them at the mage. There was a spray of blood, that iron tang even stronger in the air, and the blaze extinguished to reveal Lucanis standing over the woman’s corpse, the demon’s wings flashing in the dimly lit cellar.

The other women cowered and murmured among themselves, while Mathilde stared down Lucanis.

“I suggest you take my cousin’s offer,” he said. “I am not so generous.”

Mathilde nodded, looked to the others and tilted her head toward the door. Within minutes they were gone, never to be seen again. The village was safe.

“–if Antonio wakes us with nightmares, you’ll be changing diapers for a month,” Embria said. She’d entered the room just in time to hear the bloodier parts of the story, but Illario had been so enthralled by the telling, he hadn’t noticed.

Lucanis had. He was always aware of Embria, but lately he’d been more watchful of her than ever. Lidia’s birth had been a difficult one, and even months later, Embria still wasn’t entirely recovered. The hearth lent her some warmth, but she was too pale, the bags beneath her eyes heavy and dark.

But, he was relieved to see her eyes were bright and full of humor as she glared at his cousin.

Illario flinched dramatically, wincing. “Ay, your mamae is here!” He turned wide eyes on the children. “You know what that means!”

Embria crossed her arms and leaned her hip against the back of the sofa. “It’s bed time,” she said.

Instantly, Sofía whined her displeasure. “Mamae! Please, just one more story!”

“Sofía,” Lucanis said, his voice firm. “You already bargained for this one. Listen to your mamae.”

She huffed, but nodded. “Yes, papa.”

Antonio blinked up at his uncle. “Papa killed that witch?”

Illario shrugged. “Just the one who attacked us.”

Embria raised an eyebrow at Lucanis, but he said nothing.

Illario clapped his hands together and stood, scooping up Antonio as he did. “Now, come,” he said. “To bed with you both!”

Sofía jumped up, a grin splitting her face. She paused long enough to kiss her parents goodnight, then hurried for the door.

“Kiss your mamae and papa,” Illario said, tilting Antonio to do as directed.

“Goodnight, mamae,” the boy said, his voice already thickening with sleep. “Goodnight, papa. Goodnight, Spite.”

“Good. Night. Yo-Yo!”

The boy rested his head on his uncle’s shoulder and smiled down into the purple gaze of his father’s demon.

“I’ll make sure they both go to sleep,” Illario said.

Embria frowned. “No more stories, Illario.”

“Of course not,” he replied. His voice made it clear that he was lying.

Embria rolled her eyes, but didn’t stop him as he carried their son out of the room. With a sigh, she rounded the couch and sat beside Lucanis, so close they were cleaved together on one cushion.

He brushed her auburn hair back behind one ear, and she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. “Lidia is asleep?”

“Finally,” she said. She smirked at him. “She has her mother’s appetite.”

Lucanis snorted at that. Another reason Embria couldn’t seem to mend – their daughter’s voracious appetite kept her body running on the bare minimum. Perhaps he should make some adjustments to her meals, more protein and fat? He would speak with Roberto about it in the morning.

“Hey,” she said, her hand on his cheek. “I’m all right.”

He frowned. “I know.”

Those crystal grace eyes saw right through him. “Do you?”

Lucanis sighed. “I worry about you.” Everything about Lidia had been hard on Embria. She’d been so sick the whole pregnancy, the birth had nearly killed her – though neither of them would acknowledge it out loud – and now the baby ate so much and slept so little.

“I know,” she said.

“How are you feeling?” It was a question he tried not to ask too often. Embria had told him off for asking it so much in those first, frightful weeks after Lidia was born. But, he was dying to know. Always wondering if she was comfortable, if he could do anything.

“Tired,” she said with a shrug. “A little weak, still. But, better,” she squeezed his hand, “every day.” She looked down at their twined hands, and the glint of the plain silver bands they each wore. “She’s the last one, Lucanis,” she whispered.

“I know,” he said. They both knew that having another child would most likely kill Embria, and Lucanis would rather die than let that happen. “Does that upset you?”

She let her head fall back against the sofa. “Yes and no. Right now, I can’t imagine having another baby.” She bit the inside of her lip and her eyes shone with unshed tears. “But then, I imagine Lidia growing up, and I get so sad.”

He pulled her close, pressed her face into the crook of his neck, hushed her as she cried a little. This was to be expected. Embria’s moods had fluctuated in the months after each of their children’s births, and with Lidia’s being so harrowing Lucanis had prepared for even worse emotional swings.

They sat like that for awhile, the fire burning lower and lower. Lucanis took comfort in the warm press of her body, even if she was thinner than he thought she ought to be. He would definitely be speaking with the butler about her meals.

Finally, once her tears subsided, Embria sat back and wiped at her cheeks. She didn’t apologize or give him an embarrassed look. They’d been through this many times by now, and she knew her tears were nothing to feel ashamed of. She’d taught him that as well.

Embria frowned at him. “That story,” she said. “That wasn’t how that contract ended, was it?”

Lucanis frowned. “No,” he said. “No, that contract was fulfilled the usual way.”

There’d been no attempt to bargain, no coin exchanged. The mages had attacked them on sight, and Lucanis and Spite had done what they did best – they’d killed blood mages. Illario had helped, some.

“But,” he added. “I like the way he tells it better.”

She smiled at him, and Lucanis thought it was more beautiful each time she graced him with the sight. He pulled her into a delicate kiss, slow and a little longing, and somehow the soft press of her lips on his still thrilled him.

He’d been right all those years ago, in front of a different hearth, when he’d first thought he would gladly spend a lifetime learning every iteration of her kiss.

How fortunate was he that he got to do just that?

#writing challenge weekend #rookanis #lucanis dellamorte #illario dellamorte #rookanis babies #spite dellamorte #uncle illario is precious to me okay?!#Sofía Caterina Dellamorte #Antonio Niccolo Dellamorte #Lidia Lunaea Dellamorte #bellario if you squint #dellamortes in love #this will go up on ao3 eventually #for now its a tumblr exclusive lolol

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haliendal · 5 months ago

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As a gardener currently working in a family-owned garden center:

Picking up shit from the ground is fine. We would have to throw it in the trash otherwise, because employee-time + pot, soil, water, fertiliser would not be financially worth it for most plants. So even if we would like to save the plant, if we would do so, the garden center likely wouldn’t be able to stay in business and compete with the big companies. Or it would have to decrease the number of employees and our loan. None of us like it, but unfortunately that’s how it is. So even though it’s a bit meh, if picking up the succulent means you won’t buy the original plant and raise the succulent instead, even though the store loses money, it’s still fine. Props to you for the effort to raise it. And if you buy the original plant also we will love you forever :)

However. If you fucking break a plant on purpose. A plant we put time and effort in. And with that damage it so it either won’t get sold or gives the store a reputation for mediocre plants. If you threaten our livelihood just so you don’t have to buy a plant (a luxury product). It’s on fucking sight.

#sry if this was harsh #still not over the customer yesterday who wanted to buy one (1) mini plant decoration #and after I told her that we only the small ones in a set of ten #proceeded to look fairly deject ‘but then I have to buy the whole set :(((‘ and clearly wanted me to make an exception and open the box #while being there at 11am and wearing a cashmir sweater with designer shoes #the set was 3.50€#psa because internet and nuance:#of course you can ask if it means reducing waste #if you really only need one item from a set. but you also have to accept the answer #and not try to guilt trip the employee who can’t change it anyway

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pasta-n00dles · 1 year ago

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I hate teachers… you’d think them teaching would mean brain cells are present but NOPE.

#so story time #before March break we had a budgeting assignment in my finance class #I wasn’t there but she handed out instructions online all good I did it at home feeling great #as I had done everything to a T as the instructions called for #boy was I WRONG #so my entire class didn’t get above a 60 on this assignment when we got it back today #no one #her first criticism on mine was that in 6 years I’d still be in law school #yes in 6 years. but YOU didn’t say JACKSHIT about a TIMELINE!!#YOU SAID A FUTURE CAREER AND SAID NOTHING ABT A SET TIME IN THE FUTURE #CAREER MEANS ESTABLISHED #MEANS OUT OF SCHOOLING AND IN THE FUCKING CAREER #her next? my debt repaying was too low. now I’m gonna say a little secret. SHE GAVE US THE NUMBER TO PUT IN SHE TOLD US THE NUMBER TO USE #MY REASONING WAS TOO LITTLE 5-6 SENTENCE PARAGRAPHS TOO SMALL FOR DETAIL????#she told me I wouldn’t only be eating out 2 a month…is that not reasonable??? I had to put it down and I don’t like eating out???#my phone plan too cheap…Fido phone plan… budgeting assignment #the GOVERNMENT WEBSITE telling me the average LOW salary of my CAREER too high…#I shouldn’t have so much money left over after rent groceries and bills….or maybe you just suck at BUDGETING?!???? the whole point #of this project?!???#no one spoke out abt it #and I wasn’t there today to express my outrage #when I am next in class it will be the thing I do or it will be taken to the other teacher or guidance bc that’s bull and not fair to anyone #if it’s the whole class practically failing it’s not them it’s the teacher

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7s3ven · 5 months ago

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FILE LOADING. TF 141 x hacker! Reader, pt 1

( full master list) (intro to this series)

IN WHICH… you needed a way to lessen your prison sentence and TF 141 needed an efficient hacker… as well as someone to spoil.

Notes: hacker! Reader, reader has a criminal background, reader has piercings, tattoos + tooth gems

A/N: first cod series finally lol… please like this post guys, I finished it right after I slipped while practising a taekwondo kick and body slammed into the tiled floor 😭.

—

The air inside your prison cell was muggy and overall unpleasant, causing beads of sweat to form on your forehead as you fanned your face.

The pathetic excuse for a window was not helping, letting only a small amount of oxygen enter the tiny room.

In all honesty, you weren’t treated as badly as other prisoners. A coworker of yours had pulled some strings the moment you were arrested, which meant you got better food and some perks.

But as always, life in jail still sucked.

You were too busy staring at the blank wall in front of you to notice the metal door keeping you locked up was now creaking open.

“Get up.” The warden harshly nudged your shoulder, barely giving you a moment to compose yourself. Your hands were yanked behind your back, the cool metal handcuffs digging painfully into your soft skin.

Your jaw clenched as you were dragged down the dimly lit hallway. You knew better than to ask questions as they would not be answered. All you could do was walk in the direction the warden shoved you in.

The breeze from the well-ventilated interrogation room was the first thing to hit you as you entered. You arched an eyebrow at the woman sitting at the table, her hands gracefully clasped together.

“And you are?” You didn’t recognise her as you slumped into the seat across from her, purposely sending the warden a biting glare.

“I’m Kate Laswell, a CIA operative.” She didn’t waste time before she spoke, leaning forward to catch your attention.

Your lip peeled back into a sneer, “The worst kind of people.”

She ignored your jab. “I’ve come here to give you an offer. You see, SAS is in need of a hacker and I’m told you’re the best fit for the job.” You watch as she opens a slim folder, spreading out the images for your careful gaze to study. They’re printouts of your exploits, files nobody was supposed to obtain. You had deleted your digital footprint after hacking databases, you were sure of it.

“You’re good. Too good to waste in a cell." You hear her softly sigh.

“I did what I did. The justice system isn’t so flattered by my ability to retrieve their sensitive information. Plus, I did murder someone… a few people, actually. So in all honesty, this isn’t an unfair punishment.” You leaned back in the uncomfortable chair, crossing one leg over the other.

“We are well aware of your long record.” Laswell sends you a pointed look. You merely grin, your canine teeth glinting in the light.

“Did you see my arson report?” Your lips spread into a grin, “Because that’s the best one. Set an ex-boyfriend’s car on fire and it just lit up. It was great. You should read it sometime.”

Laswell cleared her throat, reminding you of the situation at hand. “As I was saying, I can lift your jail sentence with a click of my fingers but only if you agree to work for me.”

“Thought I was working for SAS.” You interrupted.

“You’ll work for an elite team called Task Force 141… but you’ll answer to me. I give you the orders.”

“And the catch of this job?”

Laswell’s lips curve into a faint smile. “This is not a job offer, Miss L/N, it is a uniquely presented opportunity. You will get no pay for your services. The reward it reaps, however, is greater.”

You paused for a second. What could possibly be better than money?

“Freedom.” As if reading your mind, Laswell spoke again. “If you do this, you’ll be free before next year. This is possibly your only shot at freedom, do not throw it away. If you stay locked up here, you’ll only rot while the world keeps spinning.”

Now she had your attention. “You must be desperate if you wanna hire me.” A chuckle slipped past your lips but it was mainly to ease the awkward tension that had settled. “What would the job include?” You tilted your head, subtly shifting forward to hint your interest.

“You’ll be working alongside Task Force 141, giving them intel on possible threats and making their jobs easier by gaining access to classified information. I hear you don’t work well with other people but really, what choice do you have?”

Her words prodded at you and the teasing smile on her face aggravated you but she was right. You had no other choice.

The room was silent as you weighed out your choices. The walls seemed to close in on you, a stark difference to the freedom you were promised mere moments ago.

“So I risk my life for this so-called elite team… and in return I get some vague promises of freedom? Smells like bullshit. You lot will probably stab me in the back.” You scoffed.

“You’ve already painted a bright red target on your back. It’s only a matter of time before people realise you’re worth more dead than alive. With us, you’ll have protection. And a purpose.”

Laswell stood up, pushing her chair back with deliberate calmness. The legs scraped against the concrete floor as she did so. “Make no mistake, L/N, people like you don’t simply disappear. Someone will come for you… someone who wants your head on a stick.” Her words hung heavily in the air.

There was a flicker of fear in your eyes and like a feral predator, she ate it up.

“Okay.” You slowly murmured. She had convinced her with her carefully concealed threats. “I’ll do it.”

Laswell smirks. "Good. Pack your things. Your new team will be picking you up in an hour.”

—

The loud roar of the helicopter blades filled the air as you stepped onto the tarmac, shielding your eyes against the bright sun. You rubbed your aching wrists, clicking your tongue at the bruises the tight handcuffs had left.

A few soldiers are waiting for you into the chopper, their silhouettes barely visible through the dark tinted windows.

“Couldn’t just send a car?” You grumbled as you climbed into the helicopter. Laswell followed close behind, unbothered and seemingly used to such a commotion.

“Always for the theatrics, John.” She jokes with the man sitting across from her, eyes crinkling as she grins.

You glance at the man’s name tag, reading Captain John Price. He’s handsome… for a man his age. In a ruggish and rough sort of way. A cloud of smoke slips past his lips as he calmly puffs on a cigar, not at all caring how the chopper unsteadily tilts to the side.

“This the hacker? That pretty ‘lil lass over there?” A voice, thick with a Scottish accent, cuts through the silence. Your eyes dart to stare at the burly man with a Mohawk as he looks you up and down. “Thought the hacker was a bloke. Ain’t complainin’ though.”

You stiffen at the comment, running your tongue over your top row of teeth. It unintentionally gives him a view of your shiny tooth gems. “Thought you lot were an elite crew. Y’all don’t fact check?” You lean back into the cushioned seat. It’s surprisingly comfortable, much better than the stone-hard mattress back in your cell.

The Scot laughs, unbothered. “She’s got bite. I like ‘er. Name’s John McTavish but most call me Jonny. You can call me Soap if ya want.”

You sarcastically laugh. “Soap? What kind of muppet name is that? You had a reputation for eating soap as a kid?”

Soap’s eyes light up, not what you were expecting with your insult. “Ay! The cap’n said the same thing! Called me a muppet too!”

“You still are.” Someone chimes in from the front. You didn’t even realize there were two more people squeezed in to the seats in front of the controls.

The one in the passenger seat turns around, smiling. With his soft brown eyes and gentle features, you can’t help but find him pretty.

“Y/N L/N, right? Nice to meet you. I’m Kyle Garrick.” His voice has a slight British accent to it. “This is Ghost next to me.” He jabs a thumb at the man wearing a skull mask who’s doing a poor job at steering the helicopter.

“Ghost?” You question, “What sort of name is that?”

“Simon Riley.” Ghost grunts out. His British accent is somewhat aggressive, evident in every syllable he barks out.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. For some reason, he annoys you. It’s more like the way he’s looking at you through the eye-level mirror.

The chopper shakes again. You watch as Kyle grasps his seat, his grip so tight it almost cracks the delicate leather. “Sorry.” Simon gruffly replies.

You raise an eyebrow, leaning forward. “What’s up with him?” You nod your head in Kyle’s direction.

“Fell out the bloody helicopter when Ghost was last flying.” Kyle replies. You almost laugh. It’s not something that should be amusing but your lips quirk into a small grin.

“So… does this whole arrangement cover my food and accommodation?” You question, suddenly aware of how hungry you are. Laswell slips out a small folder, handing it to you.

“Your accomodation will be one of our safe houses twenty minutes away from base. We considered having you live on the base itself but socialising isn’t part of your job. You’ll be living with the Task Force to ensure you don’t run. And all your costs will be covered. You will be given an allowance for your own expenses such as impulsive purchases.”

“Thought you said I got no money.”

“Once you have completed what is necessary, you will no longer have access to the allowance.” Laswell clarifies.

“And I walk free.”

Laswell nods, “Then you are free to go. If needed, CIA will pay to transfer you to another country so you can start anew. Most do not get second chances, L/N, so be careful.”

You lick your cracked lips, aimlessly playing with the hem of your oversized shirt. Maybe you could go to Europe; it had been a little dream of yours as a kid.

“Should go to Scotland, lass.” Jonny pipes up above the loud helicopter blades.

“London’s better.” Simon retorts, “Can actually understand what they’re saying.”

“What about Korea?” Kyle butts in.

“You aren’t even Korean.” Jonny argues back, lightly scoffing.

“Yeah, but I wanna go. Is that a crime, Soap?”

Their pointless bickering was comforting in a way. You had spent the last few years of your life locked away, isolated most of the time and alone. It was nice listening to people talk again.

Simon landed the helicopter with surprising grace, being the first to unbuckle his seatbelt and jump out. Kyle was next. Laswell unlocked the sliding door, stepping aside to allow you to slip past first.

You merely stared at her before muttering a tense thanks.

“Watch your step.” Kyle warned you as he held out a hand to steady you.

“It’s literally three feet. I can manage.” You snap back, effortlessly stepping out of the chopper. Jonny lightly chuckled while Kyle slowly withdrew.

“Feisty.” Kyle muttered.

You stared up at the safe house, tilting your head. “It’s… cute.” You hummed. It was a cottage, not the first thing you expected as a safe house.

“Were the pink roses your idea, Riley?” You joked, pointing at the pretty flowers.

He grunts, a sound you’ve suddenly become familiar with. “I prefer Ghost.” He corrects you.

You shrug. “Used to call inmates by their last name. Helped me ignore them when they tried hitting on me in the early years of prison.” You stepped forward onto the stone cobble path, admiring it.

“A small cottage… bet this is a military dream, huh?” You kicked a pebble.

“It is, actually.” Jonny pipes up, “It’s every man’s dream to retire in a cute little house with a pretty lass.”

You lightly scoffed, “I ain’t here to play work wife, McTavish. Can’t even cook.”

“Thank goodness we have Gaz then.” Jonny retorts, “Bloke should be a chef if this career doesn’t work out.”

You take a moment to study the house and its surroundings while the others file through the door. There’s a small white Pickett fence wrapped around the land, bright green blades of grass wrapping around the neatly painted wood.

The cottage is clearly old but well renovated. Rows of vines adorn the side, a surprisingly aesthetic sight. There’s a garden filled with sweetly smelling flowers and the same pink roses sitting at your feet are also perched on top of the porch.

The windows are the favourite aspect of yours. They decorate the stone walls, a sharp gothic detail to them.

It’s almost too pretty for a criminal like you.

“You comin’ in?” It’s Kyle who notices your absence, peeking his head past the doorway. For a moment, he thought you had made a run for it but he was relieved to find you standing among the garden.

You clear your throat, pulling at the bottom of your shirt. “Yeah.” You step onto the rickety porch, the wood creaking under your weight.

The interior of the house is so different from your tiny cell. Walking past the door almost feels like walking into an entirely new life.

Jonny is scavenging through the fridge, pulling out a tall bottle of beer. “Want some?” He offers it to you.

“I can’t drink, warden’s orders.” The words slip past your lips before you can stop them.

“It’s just a beer, can’t hurt ya. ‘Sides, you ain’t in jail no more.” Jonny insists, shaking the bottle. It’s tempting but on instinct, you glance at Laswell.

She’s sitting beside Price, talking to him in a hushed tone and going over a file, presumably one containing details about you.

“I ain’t stopping you from drinking, kid.” Laswell says, feeling your stare on her face.

Hesitantly, you snatch the bottle from Jonny, popping the lid open with practised precision. You haven’t tasted beer, or any other alcohol for that matter, in a long time. You’ve never liked beer… but the first burning sip feels heavenly.

“You got any vodka?” You ask, glancing into the top cupboards.

“Do we look Russian? Nah, can barely drink that shit straight.” Jonny’s face scrunches up at the thought.

“Bourbon then.” Your words catch Simon’s attention.

Jonny grins as he reaches up, grasping a fancy-looking bottle. “Only other person here who likes bourbon is the LT. Guess he isn’t alone anymore.” He pours you a glass, handing it to you in exchange for your bottle of beer.

“Don’t understand how you lot can stand beer. Too bitter for my liking.” You mutter, pacing around the room.

You hear Simon quietly hum in agreement. “Finally someone smart.”

COD TAGLIST (comment to be added/removed): @jenepleurepasbaby @rm25711 @talia-the-gemini @margaaaa30 @mixplara @alex—awesome—22

@lunamoonbby @little-b33 @ghostswife-8 @tea-drinking-nerd @certainlygay @lucienofthelakes @supaturtl3 @pr3ttypupp4 @royalz658 @whoreforfictionalmen18 @ashy-akuma @1bucky-barnes-wife1 @chloepluto1306 @voguiing @eyeless-kun @joshwashingtonmybeloved @fuzzyducky3 @childishname @angel-bugz @kee-0-kee @undercover-smutlover @10honeybee01 @kat247 @munson24 @sweetlittleblackrose @babybimbo777 @wfinniegenx @galactict3a @hyperfixatedcatlover @creepumiku @yoontoons @moraxnomora @1ckyfairy @lunerbitch @tizylish

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windownextdoor · 23 days ago

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THE NEIGHBOR NEXT DOOR

plot + sfw + nsfw + slightly!insecure!reader wc: 1.3k reader has never had a reliable man in her life, so she's learned to do stuff on her own, until simon. pt. 4 (final)

after that day, it had become a routine.

the neighborly duty of his- obviously.

the push and pull. the tension. the fucking everything. you didn't know which way was right or left anymore. he took you up to that mountain of the perfect view, one day a week, every week. he saw the days you needed it. the busiest, the most exhausting days after work.

he gave you a key to his apartment across from yours; for when he was on deployment. for a such a menacing-looking guy, he had an abundance of plants. real ones- that he insisted, you be the only one to water because, in his words, "the plants like you."

you had no clue what he meant by that. he wasn't talking about a pet of any kind; he was talking about plants. but, did your knees almost give out from swooning?

fuck yeah.

────୨ৎ────

the next time he came back to his apartment from deployment, he looked rougher than he had in the months you'd known him.

so, you did what any good neighbor would do.

you put two folding chairs in the back of your nissan rouge, a six-pack of his and yours favorite beer and managed to get him into your car. you drove this time, despite his persistent, "y'don't needa drive, sweets, i can-"

you told him to shut up and look pretty in the passenger seat.

once you got to the mountain, that took you a few too many times to remember how to get too, you shut the car off.

"c'mon, get out, si." opening your door, you went to your trunk, grabbing the folding chairs and the beer.

simon was already looking at the view, the tension visibly rolling off his shoulders like water as he inhaled and exhaled. you placed the beer on the hood of your car before setting up one folding chair, the sounds getting simon's attention.

he turned around and his eyes widened a fraction, like he didn't expect you to bring stuff. to bring chairs, so you both could sit here for as long as you intended. to bring the beer you both favored.

he watched in silence as you brought both of the chairs, closer to the edge but not too close, putting them to the ground. the beer, now in your hand, getting sat in between the two chairs.

────୨ৎ────

it had been a silent fifteen minutes. your legs were tucked under you, an open beer in your cup holder. your chairs were close. close enough to where he could rest his hand on your knee if he wanted.

you looked at simon, the wind blowing his short, scruffy, blonde hair, the sunset making his face look ethereal, the tension he had, now replaced with utter relaxtion-

"thank you." his voice was deep. rough. scratchy as always, but something else laced in his tone.

you smiled, "no need for thanks. just drink that beer and relish the fresh air. that's all i need." you looked back out to the view. when you looked back at him, he was staring at you.

like you were the ethereal one here.

like you were the only thing that mattered.

like he was so thankful, that he'd only breathe if you told him too.

"you keep staring at me like that, i'm going to think we aren't just neighbors, si."

"is that a bad thing?"

the world stopped. your breathing stopped. you looked over at simon.

"no."

"thank fucking god."

his hand went to the nape of your neck, his finger entangling at the strands of hair on your scalp as his lips shattered yours.

you gasped. like full-on gasped. air leaving you, simon sucking it up in the most destroying kiss ever. his other hand went to your thigh, squeezing, like he was trying to ground himself.

your hands wrapped around his neck, one of them running through his short hair to level yourself. he practically picked you up from your seat to sit on his lap, your thighs resting on the outside of his in the small foldable chair.

"c'mon, no more 'neighbor' talk, sweets." he rasped as his lips descended to your jaw, incline of your neck, and to your shoulders. you looked over your shoulder, to the beautiful view that your back currently faced, before looking at the even more beautiful one in front of you.

"okay, si. n'more neighbor talk," you agreed, your words slurred as his kisses made pleasure zap up your spine. letting the desires, the want, the need take over. no insecurites surrounded you as he kissed you and your body like his life depended on it.

"fuckin- you're beyond words."

"this pussy's probably soaked f'me, right, sweets?"

"been thinkin' about this since you tried closing that fuckin' trunk o'yours."

you moaned indelibrately. the simon you'd known was a gentleman. your landlords words rang, "piece of work"-

no, he's just double-layered. gotta get through that first layer.

his hand unbuttoned your jeans, yes, just one hand. attractive motherfucker. he dipped his hand in your pants and the other on was latched to your waist, holding you with a deathly grip.

hopefully you bruised tomorrow.

his palm was over your warm, wet pussy before- "grind that cunt on my hand, c'mon."

your breath shuddered, a moan left you, and you, without question, started grinding against his large hand. the fact that you were on a fucking mountain, outside in public, added to the sexual gratification you were experiencing.

"oh- o- ohmygod," your hands went to the back of the chair to steady yourself as your hips went forwards and backwards, your eyes were either locked on the hand in your underwear or his eyes.

"she was waitin' f'me, wasn't she? kept her from me too long."

she?

oh.

your pussy.

his hand pushed aside your underwear, his index and middle finger running through your folds with slow swipes. then making figure-eights on your clit.

that made your hips buck up.

"yes, ohgod, yes." you pleaded as your spine arched and pleasure swam through you from head to toe. your eyes shut, and your head fell back. you heard simon groan.

"sweets, as pretty as the view is right now, let me see those pretty eyes. i need to see them, baby." his voice was filled with a certain desperation. you blinked a couple times before looking back at simon, your forehead falling against his.

your pace was getting faster, chasing that orgasm you fucking needed. the hand that was on your hip, helping you to keep grinding.

"simon, m'gonna- m'gonna-" your eyes were half-lidded as your hips kept bucking up.

"yeah, i know, sweets. cum on my fingers." you whined at that, your body trembling.

simon pushed a thick finger into you.

you immediately came on his fingers.

a shamless moan leaving you as stars exploded behind your eyes. a pinkish-tint on your cheeks from the humidity, orgasm, and some sweat dripping down the sides of your face from the work-out you just got.

his fingers worked you through the orgasm, the mind-blowing orgasm. your head fell to his shoulder as his hand left your pants, coming to his mouth to lick his fingers clean before-

zipping up your jeans? you could feel his, not-so-discreet large cock straining through his pants. didn't he want something in return-

"you don't want to-"

"no, sweets. i'm fine. i'll make you cum anywhere, but when we fuck? it's going to be in my bed. comfortable. where only i'll see you naked."

"you- you sure?" your voice was light, out of breath still, but you wanted to give him something.

"yes, baby. m'sure. i'm fucking beaming with you sitting like this in my lap. don't need much more."

"it's not going down anytime soon." you giggled, turning a little in his lap, so you could look at the inexpressible view and simon, your afterglow making everything seem more bright. simon looked at you.

he sighed. "don't remind me."

────୨ৎ────

#cod #cod modern warfare #cod mwii #cod smut #cod x reader #ghost cod #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley

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parkers-gal · 2 months ago

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my girl J.B.

pairing: bucky x avengers!reader (f)

trope: oblivious x thought they’ve been dating all along :)

warnings: none

wc: 1k

a/n: requests are open (for bucky). pls send prompts!

═══════════ ⋆★⋆ ═══════════

you’re in a pickle. as you sit with natasha and wanda on the floor of wanda’s room, you listen as nat tells the two of you about her earlier conversation with bucky.

“he said we were dating?” you were confused. bucky had never asked you to be his girlfriend, but you had gone on a couple dates and hung out around the compound all the time. you were too nervous to make any moves, but it seemed bucky was on a completely different page altogether.

“basically” natasha confirmed. “he told me he already had plans for saturday with his ‘girl.’”

“oh.”

wanda giggles at your perplexed state. “maybe you’ve been stressing over nothing this whole time, then.”

“but he never asked me.”

“maybe it was different back then?”

“cmon wanda, it’s not like he said we’re going steady like its the 40s. i feel like he knows about labels.” you sigh. you’ve been worried these last few weeks that bucky wasn’t going to ask you to be his girlfriend – maybe the two of you didn’t hit it off as well as you thought. but then he would take you on more dates, and you’d spend all day doing things around the compound that it felt like you already were girlfriend and boyfriend.

“maybe he thought he already asked you.”

you sat with that for a moment. maybe he thought he did? you had no idea, and later into the night it got, the more confused you became. you nodded at the two girls, exchanging goodnights and making your way back to your room.

═══════════ ⋆★⋆ ═══════════

by the time you got to the kitchen for breakfast, steve, sam, and bucky had already returned from a morning run, and wanda was cooking eggs at the stove with vision.

“goodmorning y/n,” steve smiles at you.

you return the sentiment and rub the sleep from your eyes. you make eye contact with bucky and try not to stumble as you reach up for a mug in one of the cabinets. as you reach from your toes, bucky’s metal hand finds your waist and he engulfs you from behind, his other hand grabbing your favorite mug.

“let me get that for you, peaches.”

you try not to flush.

steve smiles at the interaction, continuing his conversation with sam. after bucky sets your mug on the counter, he gives the top of your head a small kiss and makes his way back over to steve. you wonder if steve smiled at the two of you because he thinks you’re dating. if bucky thought the two of you were official, why would his best friend think any differently?

you let it go for the moment, filling your mug and grabbing a plate for the eggs wanda just made for you.

“have you asked him?” she whispers.

you purse your lips, “no,” you shrug a little. “i don’t even know what to ask him.”

“ask who, what?” sam interjects.

wanda and you both turn your heads to look at him from across the kitchen island, and steve and bucky stop their conversation to watch.

“i- uhm…” you don’t know what to say.

luckily, you don’t have to think of a response because bucky speaks up. “wilson, are you pestering my girl?”

wanda nudges your side with her elbow, a gesture that you know means i’ve got your back. “your girl, huh?”

bucky blushes, poorly suppressing a sheepish grin. steve chuckles at bucky’s change in demeanor.

“well, yeah, she’s my girl.”

“i am?”

bucky’s brows furrow in confusion and for a moment, a flicker of hurt flashes in his eyes. “do you not want to be?”

you bite the inside of your lip, nervous to confess this so publicly. “truthfully i didn’t even know i was your girl.”

“oh.”

the kitchen is silent for a moment. sam waits to hear what bucky has to say, or if you have something else to add to explain the situation.

your foot lightly hits the ground. you’re fidgeting; only bucky can make you this nervous with butterflies. “that doesn’t mean i don’t want to be.”

bucky perks up and he nods, finally getting the misunderstanding between you two.

sam’s laugh breaks the silence. “you’re such an idiot.” he grabs an apple and pats bucky’s back on the way out, steve following right behind him, their voices fading as they get farther down the hallway.

bucky grabs his own mug and pours himself some coffee while you sit at the island and silently eat your eggs. wanda and vision eventually clean up their dishes and head off to some training task, leaving you alone in the kitchen with bucky.

as you put your plate in the sink, he asks “did you really not know you’re my girl?”

you run the faucet, not wanting to look at him because it’ll make you more nervous. “you never asked me.”

his flesh hand dances on your hip, spinning you around to face him. “okay…” you glance between his eyes and his lips, settling on his eyes. he mirrors your actions. “then… do you want to be my girl, y/n?”

“i-” you twiddle your fingers, hand at your side. he has you pinned against the counter.

“gonna give me an answer, peaches? or just leave me hanging?” he’s teasing you, face getting closer with each new quip. his nose practically touches yours.

at last, you breathe out a quiet “yes,” and bucky chuckles at you.

“can i kiss you, peaches?”

too speechless to say it, you nod, his metal hand reaching to cup your face. his lips connect with yours and it’s electrifying. your stomach flips and you get so caught up that you grip his henley, afraid that you’ll collapse with how lovestruck he has you. when he sucks on your bottom lip, you let out another gasp and you feel bucky’s lips turn up in a smirk as he pulls away.

still cupping your face, he smiles at you. you smile back, saying something that has bucky’s eyes glinting with pride.

“can you kiss me again?”

2K notes · View notes

pinkboaclub · 4 months ago

Text

Sweet Thing

Summery: You and Harry are best friends, despite your 15 year age gap. One night, when your blind date goes wrong, he wants to make sure your night still ends in pleasure. {Older!Harry}

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: smut, age gap (15 years), mention of alcohol consumption, fem!reader

“Oh, what’s wrong, pretty girl?” Harry asked, his voice warm with concern as you trudged over to him from the bar, exhaustion written across your face.

The music in the background blared so loudly that it felt like it was vibrating through your bones, drowning out everything else. Every Friday night, Harry rented a private room at the local club for your group of friends to unwind, drink, and let loose.

You collapsed into his lap, resting your head against his shoulder, letting out a soft sigh.

“I’m just so tired…” you mumbled, your voice barely audible over the thumping bass.

He wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer with a gentle smile. He knew how alcohol always made you sleepy and affectionate, especially after just a few drinks.

“Poor thing,” Harry teased, his lip sticking out in a mock pout. He was used to giving you the same spiel every Friday—how he knew even a little alcohol would knock you out.

“I wasn’t even planning on drinking tonight,” you giggled drunkenly. “But then Eve and Clara dragged me to the bar, and I had one drink… and then two… and then three…it really wasn’t my fault.”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ll get you something to eat, at least. You need to balance out that alcohol.” He reached across the table to grab a small bowl of pretzels and nuts he had sent to the table the moment he saw you take your first shot, but the thought of eating made your stomach churn.

Despite the 15-year age gap between you—23 and Harry 38—you had always been close. You were just friends, of course, and had made sure to clarify that to everyone around you, but it didn’t stop people from speculating.

But could you blame them? You practically lived at his house, spent most of your free time together, and took care of each other like an old married couple.

You half-heartedly munched on a couple of pretzels, trying to settle your stomach. Just then, a waiter appeared with a glass of ice water, which you drank down in one go, the cold helping to ground you.

As your friends continued their chatter, some heading to the bar, others to the dance floor, you stayed in Harry’s lap, drifting in and out of sleep with your head tucked into his neck.

“We can head home if you want, bunny,” Harry murmured, his hand gently rubbing up and down your back.

“No, I’m okay,” you protested sleepily, keeping your eyes shut as you snuggled deeper into him. “Let’s stay for a bit.”

Eve, Clara, and a few others returned, laughing as they took their seats around the table.

“You’re the only person I’ve ever seen fall asleep in a club with barely any alcohol in their system,” Eve said with a teasing smile.

You managed a sleepy chuckle. “I can’t socialize without a little buzz,” you admitted, blinking your eyes open for the first time in a while as you sat up.

“As long as we get you on the dance floor later, I don’t mind,” Clara said with a wink, sipping on her margarita.

"Speaking of socializing," Eve began, eyeing you playfully, "Do you remember that guy we met at Jolie’s art exhibit? Elijah?" You nodded, though your memory of him was hazy.

"Well," she continued, "he kind of asked if I could set you two up on a date... but I told him I’d check with you first. It’s totally your call."

Maybe it was the alcohol, or just the idea of finally getting laid after months of dry spells, but before you could think it through, your words came tumbling out.

"Sure, why not? I think I remember him being cute. Is he nice?" You caught Harry’s gaze, his eyes narrowing slightly as his jaw clenched.

"He’s a friend of Jolie and me from University," Eve said, her voice light. "He was closer to Jolie, but he’s sweet. Really into art and music. I think you’ll like him." Eve’s tone was upbeat, though the surprise among the other girls was palpable. You'd been known to avoid dating for months, and yet here you were, agreeing to a date in the blink of an eye. Without hesitation, Eve texted Elijah to let him know you'd accepted.

The next hour passed in a blur of laughter and bad jokes that were 10 times funnier thanks to the alcohol coursing through your system. After a couple more drinks, you, Eve, and Clara decided to hit the dance floor again.

"You’re coming with me?" you asked Harry, slinging your arms around his neck and planting a kiss on his cheek.

"Not really feeling it," he bluntly replied. "But don’t let me stop you."

You pouted, leaning closer to him. "You can go home, if you’re done. We could go home together." Your lips kissed all over his face, guilt creeping in as your drunk brain wondered if you'd done something wrong.

"No, no, sweet thing, I’m good. Just haven’t had enough to drink to feel loose enough to show off my moves," he chuckled, planting a quick kiss on your head. "Go have fun."

With that, you strutted away, immediately getting lost in the rhythm of the music. You couldn’t help but notice each of you was drunkenly dancing to a different beat.

"Hey!! Elijah texted me back!" Eve shouted over the thumping music. "He wants to take you out tomorrow!"

"Sounds good!" you yelled back, not even pausing in your wild dancing. "Any time after five works for me!"

When your legs finally felt like they’d given all they could to the dance floor, the three of you retreated back to your private room.

"I can tell by your face that you’re getting tired again," Harry teased, his voice warm as he glanced over at you. You sat down next to him, leaning into his side. "Time to go home?"

You nodded, already feeling the weight of your headache catching up to you.

"Okay, let’s go, sweet thing." Harry helped you stand, offering you a smile.

As was the usual routine after a night out—one of you sober, the other tipsy—the sober one would drive the drunk one home. When you were both drunk, however, it became a game of scissor -paper-stone to see who’d get the front seat in the Uber.

He gently assisted you into his car, a sleek black Range Rover, securing your seatbelt as you leaned back, closing your eyes in quiet exhaustion.

When you arrived at his house, he was there again, unbuckling your seatbelt and guiding you to the door with steady care.

“I’ll grab you some water and Ibuprofen. Why don’t you head upstairs and get ready for bed?”

You nodded in gratitude, your body heavy with fatigue as you slowly made your way up the stairs. Once inside his room, you went straight to the dresser, where you always kept a few pairs of pajamas for nights like this.

In his bathroom, your extra face wash, moisturizer, and toothbrush were neatly arranged….maybe people weren’t wrong to wonder if there was something more going on between you two.

Your hangover symptoms the next morning are what woke you up, head pounding and nausea. You opened your eyes, seeing Harry sitting up next to you, reading his book, shirtless.

“What a beautiful site to wake up to.” You groggily joked.

Harry looked up from his book, a quiet laugh escaping his lips as he marked his place and set the book aside. His eyes softened as he noticed you, his hand gently your messy hair away from your face.

“How’s your head feeling?” he asked, his tone low and soothing.

You let out a groan in response, your mind scrambling for some semblance of clarity. Slowly, fragments of last night came rushing back. The dim, pulsing lights of the club. The laughter. The dancing. You winced at the ache in your feet, a silent reminder of how long you'd been on your feet. And then, a sudden, jarring memory surfaced—one that made your stomach churn in a different way.

“Wait… did I really agree to go on a date today?” You asked, barely believing it yourself.

Harry couldn’t help but chuckle, his fingers still gently massaging your scalp as he looked at you with a mixture of affection and amusement.

“You did,” he said, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You groaned again, sinking deeper into the pillow, willing the world to stop spinning. “Jeez, I can’t even remember the last five minutes, let alone a date,” you muttered, half to yourself.

Harry’s chuckle turned into a laugh as he shifted closer to you, his thumb brushing lightly over your temple in a comforting rhythm.

"I think you’re going to be just fine," Harry teased, his voice still soft with affection. "But I’m not gonna lie... I am interested to see how this date goes. Since you've been avoiding dating for so long"

"Yeah, well, let’s just say I’m not expecting anything amazing," you sighed, stretching your arms above your head.

Later that day, you found yourself standing in front of your full-length mirror, nervously adjusting your outfit. You weren’t exactly thrilled about the date, but you didn’t want to look like you didn’t care either. You settled on a simple black dress—something that was easy but still flattering.

You took a deep breath. It wasn’t as if you had something better to do. You could always call Harry afterward to complain about how terrible it went.

You arrived at restaurant where Elijah had suggested you meet. It had that typical artsy vibe—exposed brick walls, vintage furniture, and food that probably cost more than it should have. As you walked in, you spotted Elijah immediately.

He looked up as you approached, a confident, almost smug smile spreading across his face. “Ah, you made it,” he said, standing to greet you.

"Of course," you replied, offering a smile.

"So, what do you like to do?" Elijah leaned back in his chair, his fingers tapping lightly on the edge of the table, his gaze more smug than ever. "What’s your thing? What are you into?"

The question hung in the air, a little too casually thrown at you. You hesitated for a moment, then smiled politely. "Well, I enjoy a bit of everything. Not really an expert in anything, though. I like books, music… anything creative, really."

He waved a hand dismissively, clearly not too interested in your response. “That’s nice. But honestly, I think everyone has their own version of what ‘creativity’ means. I think it’s just one of those things that gets watered down by society’s need to put things in boxes.”

You nodded, trying not to laugh at how seriously he was taking his own thoughts. The guy was talking in circles, as if he had an actual dissertation on his mind.

At some point during the evening, you realized that Elijah wasn’t going to ask about you or show any real interest in anything about your life. He kept dropping vague hints about how "complicated" he was, how misunderstood artists like himself had to suffer for their brilliance, and how he was just waiting for the world to catch up with him.

The only thing that really seemed to get him talking was his apparent admiration for himself.

Eventually, the awkwardness started to wear off, and he invited you to his apartment. Not that you were expecting anything from it—but you hadn’t been with anyone in a while, and the loneliness was starting to hit.

The two of you ended up sitting on your couch, sipping wine, your conversation moving toward more personal topics. It felt... comfortable, even though you knew it wasn’t exactly what you'd been hoping for. Still, you found yourself kissing him a little while later, your mind racing with that familiar nervous excitement.

Things moved quickly, and before you knew it, you were in his arms, both of you tangled up in each other in the dimly lit space of your apartment.

Time passed—minutes, hours, it was hard to tell. Eventually, you found yourself at the door, your dress wrinkled and your head spinning.

"Stay. Please," Elijah urged, his eyes softening slightly as he leaned in closer. “We could talk more. I really want to see you again.”

You bit your lip, your thoughts muddled. But, remembering the hours of excruciating conversation, you knew you needed to leave. "I have work in the morning," you said, even though it wasn’t true. The lie slipped out before you could even think about it.

Elijah’s face fell slightly, but he nodded. "Well, I guess that’s alright. But next time… Let’s make sure we have more time."

You smiled softly, but your mind was already elsewhere, already home and away from him.

You stepped out into the cool night air, pulling your coat tightly around your shoulders, feeling that familiar sense of discomfort slowly sink in. The date had been a total bust, and you couldn’t help but feel the sting of regret.

At home, after a quick shower to wash off the lingering feelings of awkwardness, you picked up your phone and texted Harry, hoping that he’d be up for a late-night rant.

"Can I come over to vent? This date was so annoying."

You didn’t have to wait long before his reply popped up. "Of course, pretty girl."

And so, you drove over, already thinking about how you were going to explain all the cringey moments to Harry, secretly hoping he wouldn’t say, “I told you so."

“You look like you had a blast,” Harry remarked dryly, opening the door for you.

You suppressed the urge to launch into a full rant. “Oh, yeah, great time,” you replied with equal sarcasm.

You both collapsed onto the couch— you sprawled out, Harry sitting up beside you like you were about to start a therapy session. Without missing a beat, you let the floodgates open.

“He literally talked about himself the entire time,” you began, voice dripping with frustration. “He asked me what I like to do, and as soon as I told him, he started lecturing me on his ‘interpretation of creativity.’ And it didn’t stop. For the entire date.”

Harry grinned, clearly entertained, as you continued your rant, eyes narrowing as you remembered every detail.

“And every conversation has to be this deep, philosophical, soul-searching dive— like, ‘We’re just floating on a ball in space,’ you know? The kind of thing you'd hear from the most insufferable kid in a first year psych class.”

You huffed, running a hand through your hair as the memory played in your mind. “Do you want me to continue?” You looked up at Harry. “It gets a little…18+.”

Harry's jaw slightly clenched, but he let out a chuckle. “Oh really? His personality wasn’t enough of a red flag?” He teased you, you burst out into laughter.

“Okay, okay, you have no right to judge, we’re both victims of making bad decisions when we’re horny.” You joked.

“Mm, I don’t know, I would’ve left after the ‘We’re just floating on a ball in space’ comment.”

“First of all, he didn’t actually say that…..that was just his vibe.” You corrected, both of you continuing to laugh. “And second of all, I KNOW you still would have slept with him, especially if you hadn’t been with anyone in four months.” You reminded him.

“Oh would I? No amount of horniness would have even made me go back to that type of person’s house.”

“You’re a liar. “ you said, dying of laughter. “Do I have to remind you of that girl you slept with, the one who kept saying ‘actually’ in front of very compliment, that you hated? ‘You’re actually funny. You’re actually kind of cute. You’re actually smart. What was her name? Lily? Lucy?”

“It was Laura.” He sheepishly corrected you

“And if I remember correctly, it wasn’t just one night, even after she described your sex as ‘actually good’, so I don’t want any judgment from you.” He surrendered, and let you continue.

“I’ll spare you the intimate details…I’ll just say, I didn’t necessarily leave satisfied.”

“Did you finish?”

“He finished. I didn’t.”

“Y/N.” He titled his head towards you in disbelief.

You stayed silent, almost trying to hide a smile out of embarrassment. He shook his head in disapproval.

“This is why I don’t go on dates. All I got was a shitty dinner and I still haven’t had a non-self inflicted orgasm in 4 months.”

He held his arm out as an invitation to invite you closer to him. Accepting his invitation, you leaned against him, head resting on his shoulder.

“Did you go home and…help yourself?” He asked, rubbing your back in consolation.

“No! I went home, took a shower, and then came straight here!” He chuckled, pulling you into his lap, making you straddle him.

“You don’t have to end the night unsatisfied,” he teased, his voice low with a playful edge.

“You promised no judgment,” you laughed, giving his shoulder a gentle shove. His silence, paired with the look in his eyes, made it clear he wasn’t entirely joking.

“I’m just saying... there’s an easy fix,” he replied, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Both of you laughed, though the underlying seriousness in your tones couldn’t be ignored.

“An easy fix? Like what?” you asked, your voice dropping slightly, the flirtation slipping into your words.

“Well, let’s say you wanted to,” He guided you off his lap, sitting you next to him. “You could lay down right here.”

You lowered your back onto the couch, your heart pounding harder than ever.

“Is this okay?” He clarified. You nodded and he continued. “I could come up here, make you feel better.” He crawled up to your neck, laying kisses along your neck, down to your collarbone.

He kneeled down on the ground in front of the couch. His hand shifted down to the button of your pants, slowly unbuttoning them and lowering them down your leg.

“You're in control here. Anytime you want to stop or do something else, you let me know, I want to make you feel good.” Your chest quickly moved up and down and you hummed in acknowledgment.

He grabbed your leg, placing it on one of his shoulders, kissing the other leg until he got to your inner thigh. Before he could continue you grabbed the ends of your top, quickly pulling it off to reveal your bra. Harry gave you a cheeky smile before he continued.

He kissed the insides of your thighs, sucking the delicate skin until a string of tiny purple bruises dotted your thighs.

“Please, Harry.” You whined in an impatient tone.

His eyes shot up to your face. “What do you need, sweet thing?”

“Everything. Your tongue. Your fingers. Please…please Harry.” The eagerness that had been building up in you for the past four months started to come up all at once.

“You need to learn patience, baby.” He teased you, lightly grazing his lips along your inner thigh. Finally, he grabbed your underwear and helped you out of them.

He planted his lips over your clit, expertly curling his tongue around the swollen area and flicking until your hips bucked. His arms curled around your thighs, pulling you to him and splaying a hand over your stomach to keep your hips still. He flattened his tongue against your clit to give you the pressure that you desperately craved.

“You’re so beautiful, bunny. So wet. Is this all for me?”

You hastily nodded, unable to speak.

Your hand tugged hard on his hair as his tongue worked delicately hard across your clit. Harry took one last look at your flushed face before moving his fingers at a punishing pace, driving you closer and closer to the edge. He could tell that you were holding back a bit, since you two had been friends for a while, yet this was your first interaction past a simple cuddle. He lifted his mouth from you.

“It’s alright, sweet thing. I got you, I want to make you feel good.”

He went back to pleasuring you, his ability to make you feel this good felt so natural. You focused on him, trying to push any nerves to the back of your head. His hand that rested on your stomach grabbed your hand, wrapping his fingers around your hand, giving you a gentle, reassuring squeeze.

A shudder rippled through your body and a deep moan erupted from your throat as you came around his fingers. Harry focused on you, helping you ride out your orgasm.

He climbed back up to you, sweeping your hair from your face and kissing your forehead, your nose, and your cheeks. “It’s okay, sweet baby.” He cood, your eyes stayed closed as you catched your breath.

You mindlessly pulled him closer to you, hiding your face in his neck, needing immediate aftercare after your powerful orgasm.

“Wanna go upstairs…an-help you.” You breathlessly begged, kissing his neck and lowering your hand down his abdomen.

“Okay sweet thing, let’s go upstairs.”

[read part two here!] [read a prequel blurb here!]

1K notes · View notes

lifeasadorkwithnolife · 2 months ago

Text

Jealousy (Azriel x Reader)

Word count: 3200

Mor and the reader have a plan in place to make Azriel jealous, but it backfires instead.

You sighed, resting your elbows on the kitchen counter and placing your face into your hands. “Mor- please, don’t start this.”

“I’m not starting anything, Y/N.” Mor disagreed, stirring the tear in her mug with a spoon. “I think I’m finally ending this pining game that you are putting yourself through.”

“I don’t pine.” You mumbled, hesitating before peeking through your fingers. Mor rolled her eyes, taking a sip. “Fine, fine. Maybe I do, but can you blame me? He is the perfect male.”

“I don’t blame you, but I also don’t know what you see in him besides his looks.” Mor teased, reaching out and pulling your hand from your face. “I’m just kidding, and you’re beautiful, Y/N. Any male would be lucky to have you.”

You gave her a small smile, feeling the blush start from your chest and snake its way to your cheeks. She laughed, grabbing your cheek and giving it a squeeze. “But seriously, my plan is perfect. Watch this.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, but she gave you a look and leaned back down on the counter, stirring her tea.

“I just really think you should shoot your shot.” Mor giggled, and Azriel walked into the room, not even looking between the two of you. “Maybe you should do it at Rita’s tonight, you know we always see him there.”

“Mor-stop!” you blushed harder, slapping her and looking down. Azriel didn’t even stop as he strolled through the room and out the other door. “See I told you, he wouldn’t care.”

Mor gave you a devious smile, “this plan has multiple parts my dear, planting the seed of jealously is only part one.”

“I am not wearing this!” You screeched, looking in the mirror. You were wearing one of Mors signature red dresses, but the slit went so far up the leg you couldn’t even wear proper undergarments. “Seriously-no.”

“Seriously, yes.” Mor sat on her bed, her own dress on and hair done. “We are going to go out, have a good time, and maybe find you a new male to flirt with.”

You stared at yourself in the mirror, feeling ridiculous but also… hot. You turned, looking at yourself over your shoulder as Mor smiled from behind you, leaning back and crossing her long legs. “Are you sure?”

“Duh, lets go!” Mor grinned, hopping off the bed and grabbing her clutch and your arm. You tried to keep up with her quick pace, but in your heels that was never going to happen. You nearly fell, but caught yourself just in time for Azriel and Cassian to walk into the hallway.

Their gazes landed on you, Cassians eyes grew wide and both males physically stopped in their tracks. “Boys- don’t wait up for us, the adults are going out.”

“Y/n!” Cassian whistled, causing you to turn a deep scarlet. “Have fun out there, where are you going?”

“None of your business, this is a girls only event.” Mor teased, grabbing you and pushing past the two large males. Azriel’s eyes locked on yours for only a second before glancing away, no expression on his face. “But if you need to know- we’re going to Ritas!”

You two arrived at Rita’s not too long after, grabbing a drink and sitting in a booth. You watched everyone dance around you, you never really did this with Mor, you were more of a reader, not a dancer. You sipped your drink, your eyes darting around nervously. “Soooo…is this a part of your plan too?”

Mor sipped from her drink, finishing it off and setting it down. “Come on, lets dance!”

“I don’t dance.” You argued, regretting leaving the house. This was so silly, this was not your scene.

“Look who just showed up.” Mor grinned at you, raising an eyebrow. You turned, watching the dark figure walk in through the door. You were surprised, Azriel was here without being forced? That was a first. You smiled, going to wave at him but then realizing that he… someone was grabbing his arm, pulling him away and towards the bar. Not just someone, a beautiful fae with long blonde hair and a huge smile.

Your heart fell into the pit of your stomach as you watched Azriel give her a small smile back, not pushing her away but instead following her to the bar. Your smile fell and you could feel a wave of nausea flowing through you. “Mor, he’s with someone.”

She frowned, eyes squinting at the pair at the bar. She quickly picked up her drink and put the straw to your lips. “Take a drink and lets get your mind off him. He’ll be out of here before we know it.”

You nodded, numbly grabbing the straw and sipping the rest of your drink and setting it down on the table. You followed Mor out to the dance floor, and after a few minutes of awkward swaying, you could feel the alcohol kick in and your nerves give way.

“See, aren’t you having fun?” Mor laughed over the loud music and crowd, grabbing your hand and giving you a twirl. You spun easily, laughing as you felt the dizziness wash over you. You grabbed the clip from your hair, shaking out the loose waves that you had done before.

“I think I am having fun actually.” You smiled at her, twirling her back. “Let’s get another drink!”

You two made your way over to the bar, and you gave a big smile to the bartender as he poured you another drink. He slid it across the bar, leaning over and placing his hand on yours. “You come around here often?”

“No, I definitely do not.” You laughed, not pulling your hand away and instead brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. “What about you?”

“I do work here, so I would say so.” He retorted, a smirk on his face. You looked down in embarrassment, but his warm finger reached under your chin, forcing you to look up into his brown eyes. “What’s your name?”

“Isn’t that a little personal?” You teased him, pushing his hand away playfully and grabbing your drink. You took a sip, looking up at him through your lashes. As you did so, your eyes drifted to the left, where you spotted Azriel and the girl sitting next to him.

Azriel’s hands were clenched at the bar, his drink untouched. The girl next to him was still talking, but Azriel gave no inclination he was listening, his eyes boring into yours. Dark, dazzling, angry. “It’s just your name, doll.” The bartender stepped into your view of Azriel, giving you another dazzling smile. You physically had to shake your head, trying to get the thought of Azriel out of your mind. You were here to get over him!

“Y/N.” You smiled, “I’m going to go dance, but I’ll be back.”

“You better be.” The male winked at you, making you smile again as you found Mor again on the dance floor.

You danced your heart out with Mor, swinging your hair around until you were covered in a light sheen of sweat. You laughed so hard your abs hurt, but your heart still felt a pang every time you saw her sitting at the bar with Az.

Eventually the night came to an end, and you walked up the bar, Azriel and the girl had both left, you wonder if you would see her at home. The thought made you sick to your stomach. “It was nice meeting you.” You smiled at the male; he smiled back as you sat in one of the stools. He took a rag and was cleaning the inside of a glass when you spoke again. “I…I think you’re very attractive, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t think I am ready for any type of relationship, even one for the night.”

He looked at you, nodding in understanding as he placed one glass down and picked up another. “I admire your honesty.” He answered, “I don’t know if I’m in the right place either for that type of relationship, Mor got me this job to help me move on from my past life…including my ex. I’ve been trying to do things the right way.”

You nodded, and he sighed, looking around. “Speaking of her- where is she?”

“I think she left.” You replied, “She was talking to someone, and I think I saw them walk out only a few minutes ago.”

“Figures.” He snorted, placing down the last glass and looking around. “I can’t let you go home alone, grab your coat, I’ll Walk you.”

“I’m really fine.” You laughed, grabbing your coat and putting it on. “I can defend myself pretty alright.”

“Oh I’m sure.” The male chucked, grabbing his coat from under the bar and shrugging it on. “I’ve heard the stories about you, I heard a rumor that you once killed someone with just one finger.”

You laughed out loud, bending over to contain to hold your stomach. He turned off the light, chuckling to himself as you both made your way to the door. “I totally did not do that.”

“I don’t know- It did sound like a pretty convincing rumor.” He teased, you were met with the cold blast of air outside and the earliest signs of dawn in the sky. You heard the door lock, and he turned back to look at you. “I heard one minute the guy was standing, and the next, you were standing over him, finger in the air.”

“Oh shush!” You pushed him, laughing again. “What finger was it? I need to know.”

“That’s the best part.” He grinned down at you. He leaned down towards you, his lips coming close to your ear. “Your pinky.”

You pushed him away, smiling and blushing. “No way!” you pushed your hair back from your face again, a grin on your face as you looked up at the male. In the light, you could see his sharp cheekbones and pointed ears, and the boyish blonde hair that was neatly combed on his head. “Thank you, for tonight. The drinks were great, and I had a lot of fun.”

“I can seriously walk you home.” He offered, pointing in either direction. “What way are you?”

“Seriously- I can do it.”

“I can’t let you walk home alone.” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, “now are we going left or right?”

“That won’t be necessary.” A gruff voice replied, you jumped, turning and watching Azriel come out the alleyway.

The male immediately took three steps back from you, looking between you and the shadowsinger. “Got it, I’ll…I’ll see you next time, Y/N?”

“Of course.” You smiled at him, giving the male a small wave as he quickly walked down the alley. Once he was out of eyesight, your eyes turned to glare at Azriel. “What was that for?”

“You said no, he didn’t respect that.” Azriel said flatly, “Let’s go home.”

“I don’t need to be walked home!” You angrily stomped, arms flying to your chest in annoyance. “And why did you have to be so mean? He was nice and just wanted to make sure I got home safe!”

“I can make sure you get home safe, Y/N.” Azriel rolled his eyes, his shadows moving around his frame. His wings were tall and spread, blocking the view of the alley behind him. “And, let’s be honest Y/N, you would be protecting him more than him protecting you. That male was useless.”

“Us-Useless?” You raised your eyebrows, “Okay Mr. Judgemental, thank you for your opinion that I did not ask for. He was fine, he was great actually, thank you.”

“Oh really?” Azriel’s eyebrow rose, “You met him while he was bartending at Ritas, what do you know about him that makes him great?”

“He makes good drinks!” You shouted, angrily balling up your fists and bringing them to your side. “And…And he was nice! And honest!”

“Oh honest hm?” Azriel rolled his eyes again. “let’s go home Y/N.”

“I’m not walking home with you.” You seethed, trying to walk past him but he held out his arm. “Get out of my way.”

“He wasn’t the type of male you want, Y/N.” Azriel moved, stepping in front of you and looking down. “His family has a history of being abusive towards females, you could do better.”

You froze, eyes narrowing as you looked up at him. “How would you know that? And how is that any of your business?”

“I make it my business to know the males that you make company with.” Azriel’s eyes grew darker, and he moved out of your way. “Let’s go home.”

“What type of male should I look for then?” You countered, crossing your arms again and leaning, one hip out. You could feel the cold air on the slit on your dress, but maybe it was your anger, but you didn’t care. “Tell me, what kind of male should I look for?”

“Not someone like him!” Azriel’s hand flew in the direction that the other male had walked off, “You need someone who can protect you at the very least!”

“Oh protect me?” You laughed, you started to walk past him, slightly pushing him. “Get a hold of yourself, I can protect myself just fine.”

“Just because you can, doesn’t mean you should have to!” Azriel countered, grabbing your arm and pulling you back to look at him. “You need someone that has your back, someone that will always take your side.”

“or maybe I need someone nice.” You replied, trying to rip your grasp from him. “Nice and honest.”

“You don’t want nice, you don’t care about nice.” Azriel’s eye darkened, you could feel his shadows moving around his arms.

“Tell me what I need then.” You ripped your arm away from him. “Since you seem to know it all, just spit it out already.”

“You need someone that will fight for you, someone that would wait for you, someone that would kill for you or do anything you wished. Someone who would fly across the the fucking courts just to be able to see you.” Azriel seemed out of breath, his eyes boring into yours with intensity.

You stared back at him, eyes narrowing and a frown forming on your lips. You thought of the girl he was with, at the bar, and felt your heart drop back into your stomach. “So you’re saying I need someone like Cassian?”

Azriel’s eyes went wide, and he backed up a few steps, running his hands through his hair. “Do you…do you feel for Cassian like that?”

“Of course not!” You shouted, crossing your arms. “I just have no idea who else you could be referring to-“

“Me!” Azriel shouted, pointing towards himself. “I am referring to me!”

“You don’t mean that.” You whispered, your hands started to shake slightly.

“I do mean that.” Azriel replied, his scarred hands coming back to his sides as he stared at you. “I had a hard enough time watching you with that useless male, please do not make me watch you and Cassian.”

You stared at him, a million thoughts racing through your head at once. There was no way, Azriel..Azriel was with that girl. “Who were you with tonight?” You placed your hand on your hip, trying to ease the shake. “You two seemed awfully close.”

“I don’t even know who she was.” Azriel rolled his eyes, “I was outside Rita’s for nearly an hour before she grabbed my arm and told me that she was a friend of Mors and brought me inside.”

“Why did you go to Ritas?” You countered, and he looked around, shrugging almost like he was embarrassed.

“I…fuck Y/N.” Azriel grabbed the bridge of his nose again, “Mor had told you to shoot your shot, then you’re putting on this scrap of fabric and telling everyone you’re going to Rita’s, of course I’m going to go.”

You stared at him, the sun was beginning to rise behind him, casting him in a glow. “You… you were jealous?”

“Yes, I was jealous.” Azriel growled, “I wanted to rip that males hands off when he touched you.” Your heart pounded in your chest as Azriel glared at you, he still seemed angry. “When you first came out here, I thought you were going to go home with him. I think I might have actually killed him.”

“I was jealous too.” You admitted, slowly walking the few steps over to him so you could look up at him. “When I saw you with that that girl… and she was touching you, and she was so beautiful, I thought I would be sick.”

His eyes shone with honesty and a bit of emotion that you had never seen from him before, vulnerability. “I don’t think I looked at her.” He whispered, his hand slowly moving to tuck the piece of hair that fell in front of your ear. “I just spent the whole night wishing I could dance with you like Mor was, or flirting with you as easily as that male was.”

You grabbed his hand, feeling his calloused one under your own. “I don’t ever want to feel that way again Az.” You whispered, and he nodded. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted another male, I compare- I compare them all to you.”

“As do I.” He replied, leaning his head down slowly. You could feel the words he spoke on your lips, “You were the only one made for me.”

His lips met yours, slowly and deliberately, and you didn’t pull away from the kiss until you needed to get some air. Your heart was hammering in your chest, and you couldn’t help the blush that spread from your neck to your face.

“I’ve been waiting for you to blush like that for me.” Azriel teased, using a thumb and stroking your face. “Now, let me walk you home.”

While you and Azriel spent the day making up for lost time, Mor got out of the house and went back to Ritas. She smiled at her old friend Jason, who placed a water in front of her and smiled back.

“That little plan of yours almost got me killed, you know.” Jason grabbed a towel, cleaning a glass as he normally did when making conversation. “Who was the girl you had come in with Azriel?”

“Someone else who owed me a favor.” Mor smiled, sipping on her drink.

“Well…did the plan work?” Jason asked, setting the cup down.

“Unfortunately, I think it worked too well.” Mor scrunched up her face in disgust. “They were at it all night long.”

#azriel fanfic #azriel imagine #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #acotar imagine #acotar x reader

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swordsandholly · 1 year ago

Text

Double Date - Double Down

NSFW | MDNI

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!plus size!reader

Word count: 4.9k

Summary: When you get a call in the middle of the afternoon from your friend begging you to fill an empty spot on a double date your initial instinct is a hard no. After all, no one wants to go on a blind double date and be surprised by the fat friend. It doesn’t help that this Simon guy is stupid fucking hot and obviously doesn’t like you - if his lack of talking is anything to go by.

A/N: Just a fun little oneshot I used as a warmup between working on chapters of future multi chapter projects.

“I said *no*.” You snap, angrily folding the washcloth in your hands.

Your friend splutters from the other side of the phone, the desperation in her voice only growing now that she’s on her fourth ask. “*Pleeeaase*! Steph backed out last minute and no one else is free-“

“How do you know I’m free?”

“You just said you were!”

You huff. She’s got you there. When she first called, you admitted you didn’t have anything going on but that was *before* she told you the plan for the night. Before she mentioned that her very, very conventionally hot military boyfriend wanted to do a little double date with his friend and one of hers. Plus, you take a least a little offense to being second choice. Really, last choice, it seems.

“Cass, you can’t just set up a blind date and take your fat friend. That’s not-“

“You’re not fat, love. You’re beautiful.” Her words drip with turned honey. You make a gagging face to yourself in the mirror. “You just need more confidence!”

You sigh loudly, pinching the bridge of your nose. You could try, for the millionth time, to explain to her the nuanced ins and outs of dating as a fat woman. The rules and stats that could rival even the most complex rpg… or you could be petty. It takes less time to be petty. “If I go, you’re paying for my drinks.”

“Johnny’s friend will probably-“

“Yeah, and when he leaves you’re paying for my tab.”

“He won’t-“

“We got a deal?”

She clicks her tongue. “*Fiiiine*.”

At least you can get wasted for free either way. A small consolation. She texts you the time and location, barely leaving you with enough time to shower and turn yourself into something presentable. Not that you really care. It’s going to be shit either way, most likely. Staring yourself down in the mirror, you suppose you could at least try to look somewhat attractive. If you’re about to get rejected (or possibly shouted at, you’ll never forget *that* horrendous interaction) you might as well feel your best.

The pub is small as you push through the front door. Casual. A couple pool tables, some darts, a large bar and few booths with stools on the outer side. You scan the room, searching for Cass’s familiar face.

“Over here!” Cass waves with a wide arc at you, a grin plastered from ear to ear. At least she’s having fun.

You take a long breath, bracing yourself for whatever is about to happen. Cass introduces you to her boyfriend - who is somehow even hotter in person. You can see why she’s so smitten with him. Johnny looks you up and down as he shakes your hand. He doesn’t comment, or make a face, or really react in any particular way, but you can feel a shift. Something in his eyes…

Maybe it’s just your imagination. You’ve always been a little over sensitive.

“Si will be back in a sec. Stepped over tae get a drink.” He flashes a grin.

You hum, quietly folding your hand as Cass pushes a cocktail for you that she preemptively ordered. Criticize her as much as you like, she knows her mixes.

“There he is.” Johnny grins, turning slightly.

You follow his gaze, heart sinking as your eyes settle on the man approaching your table. He’s massive. Tall and wide. Total brick shithouse. His face is mostly covered by a black surgical mask. A few years ago you might have questioned it but at this point you couldn’t care less, especially when his dark eyes meet yours, small flecks of gold honey catching the low bar lights. Barely styled tufts of blonde hair stick up from his head. They look like they might curl if he let it grow a little longer.

All in all, wayyyy out of your league.

He settles into his seat with all the confidence of any military man - back ramrod straight. He extends a large hand. “Simon Riley.”

You murmur your name, somewhat enthralled by the half lidded, almost bored look in his eyes. Now that he’s closer you notice a large scar splitting his left eyebrow and light, newly forming crows feet in the corners of his eyes.

“S-so you’re military, too?” You stutter, eyes trained on his the massive hand holding his glass. It’s nicely vascular, his nails are well groomed but it also looks like he could snap you in half with it.

Not that that’s entirely a bad thing - whatever that may or may not say about you.

He nods. “I’m a Lieutenant.”

“Oh! Officer position. So you’re smart, then?” You try to be charming, to give him a sweet smile and keep your body language open.

“Enough.” He deadpans. It takes a few beats for you to realize he’s not going to say anything else.

“Uh…” You squirm awkwardly under his gaze. It’s intense - his dark eyes nearly black in the low light of the bar. “I do hair.”

Conversation is slow, to say the least. The longest answer he gives you is maybe five words. He only flips up the mask long enough to take a sip of his drink every so often. You start to talk less, opting toward a group conversation in which Johnny takes the lead, which he is obviously very good at. He regales you and Cass with a few stories of his and Simon’s adventures. Some funny, some brave, some worrying. He’s setting the man up to be a god, nearly, but Simon himself just shakes his head and insists Johnny is exaggerating.

You wonder what he sees in Simon. Alternatively, you wonder what *you’re* supposed to see in Simon. Besides his good looks, of course. He’s… bland. Obviously bored if his constant glances toward the exits and rhythmic, occasional tapping on the corner of the table are anything to go by.

“Want tae go dance, lovie?” You overhear Johnny as he leans in toward Cass.

She glances at you, then Simon, then back to you before nodding enthusiastically. “We’ll give you two some time *alone*.”

In any other situation, you’d probably beg her to stay in desperation for a conversation buffer. Here and now, though, you’re grateful. You can finally let this poor guy off the hook. You wait until they’re gone; fully out of earshot before turning to the man in front of you.

“I…uh… look…” You chew your lip, glancing between him and your folded hands on the table. “Sorry… I know I’m probably not what, uh, what you expected… I get it if you want to leave. It’s - you don’t have to stay, or whatever. Don’t have to be polite…”

He cocks an eyebrow, eyes boring through your skull. “Why would I want to leave?”

“I know what I look like. You don’t have to be nice.”

His raised brow turns into a slight frown. “I think you’re quite pretty.”

You scoff - blushing despite yourself. “Again, you don’t have to be nice.”

“Do I seem like the type to just be nice?”

You continue to gnaw at your lip. He’s got you there. Simon definietly doesn’t come off as the type to bow to polite society. “You’ve barely talked to me.”

He stares for a moment. It’s his turn to avert his eyes, swirling around the whiskey in his glass awkwardly. Almost bashfully. “It’s not you. I’m… not great in public… especially in crowds…”

Oh.

*Oh*.

You’ve completely misjudged him, haven’t you? Shit. He’s just a big awkward lug isn’t he?You sigh, rubbing your temple. “Oh God, *I’m* the asshole, aren’t I?”

He chuckles, “I wouldn’t go that far.”

“I’m sorry it’s just…” you scrub a hand over your face. “Most men don’t really want to be surprised with a fat girl on a blind date. Guess I assumed the worst.”

Simon hums. A low vibration that settles into your bones. He gets up, sliding into the booth side of the table beside you - his massive frame pushing into your space. He smells like spices. Cinnamon and pepper. A little hint of leather and tobacco underneath. It’s heady, and some primal part of your mind wishes you could roll around in it like a dog.

“Some men might like a waifish little thing, that’s their business, but personally…” He leans in, a large hand resting on your wide thigh. “Yeah. I like somethin’ I can get a proper handful of.”

“*Oh*.” You squeak, back stiff. Was that what you saw in Johnny’s face before? Approval?

“‘Ere’s a thought - we go back to mine. S’quiet. Can talk more freely. See where the night goes, hm?”

You smile hesitantly, finally looking up to meet his gaze. It’s honest. Kind. Dark pools of sincerity. It’s against your better judgement. Impractical. Out of character. Even so, you allow yourself to surrender with a warmth in your cheeks and a small nod.

“I’ll get an Uber.” He pulls out his phone, tapping away. “Five minutes out.”

“Want to wait outside?” You offer, nodding toward the front entrance. Simon just nods, following you out close behind. Neither of you say much of anything while you wait, but you watch him out of the corner of your eye. He taps on his leg a few times in much the same way as he did on the table.

He dutifully opens the car door for you, letting you slide in before climbing in beside you, long legs slightly cramped in the small sedan.

“You don’t live on base?” You ask as the Uber drives away from the infamous military housing. You’d been there once or twice - a while ago when you were younger and messier.

“S’too loud.” He shrugs. “Too crowded.”

“Well, at least you’re consistent.” You smile.

Simon hums, resting his hand on your thigh once again. It’s casual, not too high up or too much pressure. Not presumptuous.

“How’d Johnny get you out there in the first place? If you’re so *averse*.” You tilt your head.

He shrugs, “Was supposed to be another Sergeant we work with but I guess he cancelled. No one else was free.”

“Ah, so we’re both last choices, then.”

“Yeah?”

“Made Cass promise me free drinks if I came.”

“Smart girl.” He chuckles, holding out a hand to help you up out of the car upon your arrival. His hand is warm when you take it, and a small part of you feels disappointed when he lets go.

The building is small. Old. All red brick with a thirty year old intercom and an elevator that you’re pretty sure hasn’t been inspected since the place was built. About halfway down the hall, you start to second guess yourself. You don’t know a thing about this guy - you don’t know what’s going to happen as soon as you get on the other side of his door. His weird, bright red door. Wait - why is this whole floor covered in red doors?

“Alright?” He grunts, back turned to you as he wrestles with the lock.

“Uh - why is your floor color themed?”

Simon laughs, wide shoulders shaking with the movement. It’s a low sound, something that vibrates in his chest. Makes you want to press your ear to it, see how it feels. If it will reverberate into your bones as well. “The old lady that owns the building is a bit… unique. Likes to talk about colors and karma and destiny stuff.”

“Ah.” You nod, as if that makes any sense at all. “So you’re red?”

“Apparently.”

His apartment is actually quite homey, as you step into it. From a stiff military man like him you expected something akin to an ikea floor model. Instead it’s furnished with a well worn, green couch. A large TV with an extremely up-to date surround sound system and an entertainment center filled to the brim with CDs sits against the wall. A few movie posters fill the walls. All horror classics - you count three of the scream movies. The first two final destination. There are condensation rings on the coffee table.

Behind you, you hear the door lock and unlock three times, but you don’t pay it much mind.

“Want a drink?” Simon asks, already popping open a decanter full of something gold on a small drink cart beside the kitchen island.

“Sure.” The agreement is automatic - blurted out before you can second guess taking a drink from a total stranger.

You watch a little too closely as he takes off his light jacket, exposing his strong arms and a half sleeve tattoo. It’s a bit tacky, all skulls and military symbols. The black ink has been sun worn over time. The motif of a young getting his first tattoo after enlisting. He settles down on the couch with the decanter and two glasses, patting the spot beside him. You plop down. It’s pretty comfortable, honestly.

His fingers loop into the mask’s straps. You find yourself watching with wide eyes and bated breath as he removes it. His nose is crooked - broken more than a couple times, you think. There’s a scar running from his nose to upper lip that could only come from a cleft palette. It’s charming, in a way. When he turns toward you, you notice a patch on the side of his face that looks like a rather large burn all the way down to his sharp jaw. The roughness of him works, somehow. The scars and tattoos and choppy hair all coming together to create the visage of a life hard lived.

“You’re really pretty…” the words slip from your tongue before you can stop them.

Simon splutters out a laugh, the slightest hint of color appearing across his cheeks. “Didn’t take you for a flatterer.”

“I’m not.” You huff before nodding toward the posters. “Horror fan?”

He hums, passing you a glass. “Are you a fan? Of horror, I mean.”

“Found footage!” You grin a little too excited. “It’s the best genre.”

“Terrible taste.” He scoffs.

“Wrong! Found footage can be anything you want it to be - slasher, thriller, mystery, mocumentary. Anything.”

“Which makes them messy.” He argues. “Anyone can make one.”

“Yeah! Theres so many hidden gems out there.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Oh, I’ll put you on them. We just need to get you a good one.”

“Askin’ me on a second date already, love?”

“Oh, fuck off.” You shove at his shoulder. He was right, it is so much easier to talk freely out of the bar. Away from everyone and everything. His posture is far more relaxed, laid back into the couch with his hips canted forward rather than stiff as a board.

“We could watch one now?” He offers. If you were more sober, you might have heard the twinge of pleading in his voice. As it stands you’ve already drained the glass he gave you and are perfectly buzzed enough to be ignorant to the subtler parts of communication.

How convenient.

“Okay.” You whisper.

After a bit of debating back and forth you settle on Hell House. After all, it’s been your tried and true method for getting anyone and everyone into the genre. You don’t notice it, at first, but you slowly begin to scoot closer to him as you fold your knees up on the couch. Eventually, tucking yourself under his arm sling across the back cushions. Between him and the drinks - which you’re pretty sure is a rather fancy bourbon - you feel what could only be described as snuggly. Limbs loose and pliant, smile easy and words flowing as you cheer and jeer at the characters together.

At some point, Simon’s dark eyes meet between yours. You lean in, so does he. Inch by inch until your lips meet. It’s tentative, at first. Testing the waters. His lips are soft and move expertly against yours. You part for him has his tongue darts across your lower lip.

It’s easier than it usually is for you. Easy to let him pull you over his lap. To rest your hands on his broad shoulders as you take each other in. Normally, you’re not a person for one night stands. A commitment kind of gal. You can’t exactly say no, though, when you have a beautiful man’s hands traveling over your body like it’s the only thing in the world worth paying attention to right now.

He breaks the kiss just long enough to grunt, “Bedroom?”

“*Yes*.” You gasp between kisses.

Suddenly those large hands grasp under your ass as you’re hauled up. You grapple to hold onto the back of his neck, keeping your weight forward.

“Simon!”

“Yes, love?” He asks as if he didn’t just life you like a sack of potatoes.

“A-aren't I heavy?” You question as he makes his way through the apartment, peppering kisses over your neck and jaw.

“No.” He replies bluntly. Like what you asked was stupid.

You’re placed on a bed with all the gentleness of a rare china plate- one hand cradling your upper back and the other tucked under your thighs. There isn’t any time to take in the room before Simon is kissing you again but you do count approximately five pillows and zero navy sheets.

That shouldn’t be as hot as it is.

Simon leans in close, nose ever so slightly bumping yours. “Before we keep going, I want to establish a rule. Red light means stop. At any time, for any reason.”

You can’t help but smile. “Okay.”

“Say it back, doll.”

“Red light means stop.” You reach up and cup his face. So handsome. So warm.

“Good girl.” He murmurs. “Let’s get these off, hm?” Simon pulls your clothes off deftly - dragging those rough palms over your skin as he moves and kneading at the plushness of your hips appreciatively.

You reach up to tug at his shirt. “S’not fair if I’m the only one naked.”

Simon chuckles and hastily sits back to yank the shirt over his head, giving a lovely show in the process. You think this what people mean when they talk about an Adonis. There’s a comfortable soft layer of his strong abdomen. Something you want to sink your teeth into. Your fingers trace each dip and curve of his muscles, the lovely shape of his pectorals, the raised scars littering his body. Floral shapes from bullets along with slashes and smaller jabs. A particularly nasty one runs down his side, coving his ribs. A burn, you think.

“You’re beautiful.” You murmur. Definitely out of your fucking league. You move to sit up, reaching for his waistband.

His hand pushes your shoulder back on the bed. “Let me take care of you tonight, bird.”

Your face warms. Simon kisses your cheek, continuing down to your chest and taking one of your nipples in his mouth. Gently sucking and nipping at it while flicking the other with his hand. A shameful whimper escapes your throat.

Simon leans up to murmur in your ear, “What do you want, sweet girl?”

“Want you to fuck me…” You murmur, embarrassment making you want to close your legs. His solid hips block you.

“Oh, I will, but first I want those beautiful thighs wrapped around my head.” Simon continues to place kisses down your body, over your stomach, stopping right at your panty line and tracing along it with rough fingers. His arms circle your thighs and in one swift motion your hips teeter on the edge of the bed, Simon kneeling between them. His fingers hook in the waistband of your underwear.

“W-wait…” You sit up on your elbows.

He freezes, looking up at you.

“I, uh, I haven’t exactly *landscaped* in a while… wasn’t really planning-“

Simon huffs out a laugh. “I’m a grown man, love. You think a little bush is gonna scare me off?”

All thoughts related to anything within the proximity of embarrassment come to an instant halt as Simon’s lips wrap around your clit- sucking and nipping and lapping like a man starved. Like he’d die without it. A low groan rumbles through his throat.

“F-fuck!” You gasp, whimpers and moans interrupting any chance you may have at putting words together.

“Taste so fucking good, princess.” He mumbles against you. A shaky moan rattles through you as he pushes a thick finger in, working it gently. His other than grips your hip tightly, pinning you in place. The pet-name sends a shiver down your spine - leaving you rolling your hips and clenching on the finger inside you.

“Fuck, Si…” You gasp, tangling your fingers in his hair.

“I can tell your close, baby.” Simon groans. “Cum for me. Come on, be a good girl and cum all over my fucking tongue.”

The bastard knows the power he has in that voice. He *has* to. That baritone gravel sinks in your veins and all you can do is whimper. Panting pathetically the closer you get. His fingers curl up and your back arches harshly as your climax washes over you. Your legs tremble as he works you through it; stopping just shy of pushing you too far.

“Hey!” You gasp indignantly as a jolt shoots up your spine as he settles a final, harsh suck on your clit.

Simon taps your hip, climbing back over you as you scoot up on the bed. He carelessly kicks off his pants as he goes, toeing them off before settling between your legs. Those dark eyes rake over you leisurely - taking in every inch. Every curve and dip and flaw categorically. He sucks in a breath and sighs. “Bloody ‘ell, look at you… so fuckin’ pretty.”

Your face heats and you look away. “Who’s the flatterer now?”

“Not me. Just bein’ honest.” He places a quick kiss to your soft jawline before reaching over to dig through his nightstand drawer. You don’t miss the gold foil of the condom wrapper.

You can’t stop yourself from licking your lips as he pulls off his boxer briefs. Simon is uncut, already ruddy and leaking and just begging for your mouth. Maybe next time, though. He’s already slipped on the condom, carefully hooking one of your legs over his shoulder and the other around his hip. The man has a laser-focus to him, you’ll give him that.

“Still want t’ keep goin’?” He mumbles, eyes locked on his cock as is drags between your folds.

“*Please*.” You whine pathetically. Simon’s chuckle turns into a gasp as he presses in. It’s achingly slow and you roll your hips in demand for more.

Simon lets out a low groan as his hips meet yours. The stretch is perfect - just enough to feel completely full without pushing you too far. As though your bodies were made to slot together just so. Your head falls back, chest heaving as you beg him to move, to fuck you, just *please* for the love of god-

“Needy little thing.” He gives you a sloppy smile before setting a brutal pace. You find yourself clawing at his back, clinging to him as your back arches and the most obscene sounds are systematically torn from your throat. The angle he has your hips placed causes his cock to bully that sensitive spot inside you - dragging over it with every thrust.

Simon leans toward, bracing himself on his forearms and pinning you under him as he fucks into you. “So fuckin’ good f’me. Knew you would be. So soft and sweet and goddamn *pretty*.”

“*Fuck, Simon*.” You gasp, nose bumping against his as your lips intertwine. Breaths and moans intermingle as you both chase that edge. There’s nothing else, in this moment, just you and Simon and the sounds only he has ever managed to pull from you.

Your orgasm hits you like a train. Out of nowhere and all at once, tensing every muscle into a trembling mess as you clamp down around his cock. Simon sinks his teeth into your neck as his own climax takes him, cradling you close and moaning out your name so muddled you almost miss it.

For a few moments, you stay frozen in place trying to catch your breath as you come down. Your limbs feel like jelly when you finally try to move, body limp and pliable. It almost feels like a loss as he pushes off of you, leaving you open and vulnerable to the cool night air while he ties off the condom.

“Be right back.” He murmurs, slowly climbing off you and heading for an attached bathroom off to the left.

You let your eyes slipped closed only to jump and shoot back open as a dap rag drags between your thighs. A little yelp escapes you as the rough material drags across your oversensitive clit. Simon chuckles at you, tossing the rag back somewhere in the bathroom before crawling into the bed beside you. It’s so easy to curl into his chest and let those strong arms encircle you.

“Have fun, love?” Simon murmurs into your hair.

You just hum happily, smiling against his hard chest.

“Good.”

It’s just as easy as the rest of it to fall asleep like that. To seek out the warmth of his body in your satiated haze and press into him, allowing the night and rhythmic beating of his heart to overtake you. You feel four small taps between your shoulder blades just before tipping over the edge into comfortable nothing.

You wake slowly to an empty bed. The light from the window above you streams in - bathing the room in a light golden tone. It’s cozy. The blankets seem to pull you in, keeping you snugly in place. Distantly, you hear the sound of pots and pans clinking.

Shockingly, you’re not hungover. Well, not much at least. There’s a slight twinge in your head and a not unpleasant soreness in your hips. You dig around, finding your clothes strewn across the room haphazardly. Your underwear are nowhere to be found and you eventually give up with a shrug. They weren’t one of your best pairs anyway.

When you come out of the bedroom, you pause. Simon stands in the kitchen, working on something over the stove wearing only a pair of sweatpants. They hang loosely around his hips, showing off the rises and dips of his strong muscles and well defined waist. This scene somehow feels too intimate despite your activities the night before.

“Perfect timing.” Simon turns, placing a plate down on the kitchen island. The omelette before you looks immaculate, all the way down to a light garnish on top.

Your eyes turn to saucers. “You…you made me breakfast?”

“Course.” He nods sharply as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. As if *not* doing so would be some sort of affront. Either you’re still asleep and this is all a dream or you stumbled upon the perfect man through pure happenstance.

He turns the stove off and on and off twice before standing at the counter across from you while you sit on one of the stools at the island. It’s a comfortable silence as you both eat. Simon keeps glancing up at you as if waiting for your disapproval. Boyish, somehow, despite the size and breadth of him.

It’s perfect. The eggs practically melt in your mouth and the goat cheese and vegetables taste fresh. You can’t help but him happily as you eat.

By the time you’re done, you think you might be a little in love.

Maybe you should text Cass and thank her or something. Maybe a gift basket. “Oh. My phone’s dead.”

“Didn’t charge it before y’left last night?” Simon cocks an eyebrow, chewing on his last bite.

You snort. “It was last minute, remember?”

“What if I’d been some sort of psycho? What was your plan?” He grins as he takes your empty plate. If you were a more impulsive woman you may have gone so far as to lick the damn thing.

“Are you a psycho?”

“Not generally, no.”

“Well then, nothing to worry about.” You grin, watching a little too happily as he rinses down the dishes and loads the dishwasher.

Simon just scoffs at you.

You glance at the time above the stove, disappointment settling deep in your chest. “Shit. I should get going.”

“I’ll get you a cab.” Simon offers automatically, reaching for his phone.

You shift side to side, twiddling your thumbs. “Y’know… we never finished the movie…”

Simon cocks and eyebrow. From the pleased smirk on his face you can tell he knows what you’re implying. He still patiently waits for you to say it out loud.

“Would, uh, would you want to exchange numbers? Maybe… meet up… again…?” Your voice is more timid than you’d like. This fear of rejection is new. Being rejected is nothing new for you, so why does it suddenly feel so high stakes with this one guy you barely know?

You don’t miss the way his eyes light up ever so slightly at the question. “I’d love to.”

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soaps-mohawk · 5 months ago

Text

Cherry Red, Cimson Blood

Chapter 41: Revenge

Summary: A surprise trip to America has things turning in a direction no one thought they would

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 6,390

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, a/b/o, alternate universe, dead dove: do not eat, graphic violence, torture, on screen death, stabbing, knives, choking, punching, blood, aftermath of death, emotions, angst, trauma, very small hint of comfort

A/N: Please, please heed the warnings. This chapter deals with some heavy topics and rehashes a lot of Chapter 34. I've put a trigger warning before everything starts and if you don't want to read it then skip from there to the next section. You'll be able to put two and two together from there.

Also if you haven't seen, I went back and changed a pretty major plot point from chapter 34 onward and it will need to be read to really understand this chapter

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

“You’re in charge.” John says, passing over the keys to Dr. Keller. “Hold down the fort. Take some time for yourself.”

“Invite over Ashley.” Kyle winks as he passes.

“Cute.” Dr. Keller says, rolling her eyes.

“Call if anything happens.” John continues, ignoring Kyle’s remark. “You know how to get a hold of us.”

“I do.” Dr. Keller nods. “I’ll make sure the cottage is still standing when you get back.” She glances at the car. “Take care of her.”

“We will. We’ll make sure she’s still in one piece when we get back.”

“You better.” Dr. Keller says, giving him a look. “Safe travels.”

Kyle closes the car door, cutting off the rest of the conversation. You’re squeezed in the back of the car between him and Johnny. It is a tight squeeze between the two of them and their broad shoulders. It’s not the most comfortable position, but the decision to leave one car behind has sealed your fate.

Simon is in the front passenger seat, looking about as happy to be there as you feel. His arm is leaned against the door, his gaze set out the front windshield. His scent is thick in the air, musky and leathery. It’s a mixed cocktail of scents in the small enclosed space, but Simon’s is the loudest.

John opens the driver’s side door, climbing into the car. It felt cramped before, but now it feels almost claustrophobic.

“Just an hour drive and you can stretch your legs.” He says, and you know he’s talking to you.

“Where are we going?” You ask as he drives down the long driveway.

“America.” He says, giving you the same answer he gave you before.

“Why?” You ask, knowing what the answer is going to be.

“We have some things we need to take care of.” He answers simply.

“What things?” You pry, already guessing where this conversation is going to go.

“I already told you.” He replies. Simon glances at him, but says nothing.

“You told me nothing.” You purse your lips.

“It’s a surprise.” He says, almost like he’s rehearsed this before.

“I hate surprises.” You say, leaning back in your seat, your scent souring a bit. “If you bothered to pay attention you’d know that.” The last bit is hardly more than a murmur, but you know he heard you in the enclosed space.

It falls silent in the car, the five of you sitting there awkwardly after the exchange. It’s been a long time since you’ve been so bombarded by their scents all at once, and it’s been a long time since they’ve been so surrounded by your own scent. It reminds you of that time months ago after Simon returned from his solo assignment when you’d kissed in the car and nearly drove them all insane with an explosion of your scent.

Only this time, your scent has gone sour with your displeasure and agitation at the lack of information from John.

This time Simon is the first to cave, cracking the car window to let in some air and disperse the heavy scents.

It’s going to be a long hour.

Traveling is your worst nightmare.

Or, at least, traveling like this.

It’s only the five of you on the plane, some private jet that Kate had procured. It’s a nice plane, but at the same time, being enclosed with your pack for nine hours isn’t exactly ideal. You thought the cottage was bad at times, but at least there you could go outside and escape from them.

Now you’re really stuck with them.

Thankfully they’ve mostly left you alone for the duration of the flight, letting you sit in your seat with a book in silence. John and Simon have been in a corner conversing for the better part of the flight, glancing at you every so often. Johnny has slept through most of it, reclined in a seat not far from them. You wondered for a moment if he was faking it to listen in, but when the snores started you knew he really was out. Kyle is in a position not unlike your own, huddled in a seat with a book, minding his own business.

You really want to know what John and Simon are discussing, what has held their attention for so long. It’s gotten heated a few times, John’s brows pulling into a frown, his lips moving rapidly. Simon’s shoulders keep squaring and relaxing, giving you insight into the rise and fall of emotions during the conversation. You can imagine his face mirroring John’s, his brows pinching in worry or frustration or perhaps even anger.

Whatever it is, it’s serious enough to last a good part of the flight.

You’re ushered into a car almost as soon as the wheels touch the tarmac and the plane has stopped. You’re stuck between Johnny and Kyle again, but at least the SUV is spacious enough to not have you crammed in like sardines. Your legs are stiff and sore after sitting for the better part of eight hours, but you’re not about to complain. Not with the way John’s hands are gripping the steering wheel.

If you didn’t know better, you might have thought he was having second thoughts about whatever is happening.

You still don’t know.

They still haven’t told you.

The airstrip the jet landed in looked to be a private one as well, isolated in a grassy area with rolling hills of green and a few sparse trees missing their leaves. You almost fear it might be Texas again, given the warmth of the air for a time so late in the year, but you want to believe they wouldn’t be that cruel to you. At least you hope that’s the case.

The drive takes longer than the one in England, time seeming to stretch on endlessly as it did in the plane. You’re tired after the flight, but curiosity is keeping you awake and aware. You almost wish you had your book, but it’s stuffed in the back with the small bag you’d been allowed to bring. The others had small bags as well, and you can only imagine what is inside them.

It makes your insides crawl with nerves.

The exhaustion becomes too much as the naked trees and rolling hills continue to pass by outside the car. It’s quiet in the car, the tense silence not even enough to keep you awake as your head begins to droop onto Kyle’s shoulder.

You’re jolted awake as the car comes to a stop.

The muffled sound of car doors closing outside reaches your ears as you peel your eyes open.

“Come on.” Kyle says softly, gently shifting you with his shoulder. “Time to get up.”

You let out a quiet grunt, rubbing your eyes. The world outside is full of grey sky and naked tree limbs from the angle you’re at. John and Simon’s doors slam as they exit the car, the warmth on your other side disappearing as Johnny gets out as well. Gravel crunches outside as Kyle opens his door, easing you so you’re sitting upright.

The SUV is parked facing another one, and the world behind it opens into more green fields. Kyle slides out of the car, hitting gravel before offering you a hand. You blink the sleep from your eyes, taking the offered hand.

There’s three other SUVs parked in the gravel, people dressed in plain clothes moving around an old, rickety barn. John is standing halfway between the car and the barn, conversing with Kate. You blink in surprise. You haven’t seen her since she dropped you off with your pack almost a year ago now.

Whatever they’re discussing, it seems to be serious.

Kyle puts a hand on your back, leading you towards them.

“Hi honey,” Kate greets you with a small smile, the seriousness melting on her face in almost a performative manner. “How are you holding up?”

“I don’t know.” You say, wrapping your arms around yourself. “Depends on why I’m here.”

“You didn’t tell her?” Kate says in surprise, turning back towards John.

“I knew what she’d say if I told her.” John says.

You purse your lips again, disliking being talked about as if you’re not standing right there.

Kate looks like she wants to say something, but she doesn’t, instead she takes half a step back. “Better get this over with, then.”

John turns towards you, wrapping a hand around your wrist. “Come on.”

You almost dig your heels in and demand he tell you, but you don’t. You have a feeling you’re about to find out regardless as he leads you towards the barn. Simon and Johnny are waiting by the doors, Kyle following close behind you. Nerves are starting to flutter in your stomach, your insides twisting in fear. What the hell is on the other side of those doors and why does everyone seem so serious about it?

Johnny’s face is hard set, Simon’s eyes blank as John pauses in front of the door for a moment.

They’re not themselves.

You’re looking at Task Force 141.

Simon slides the barn door open, your stomach clenching painfully. It’s dark in the barn, but not dark enough you can’t see. Grey light seeps in through holes in the roof and sides, giving the barn an eerie look, like you’re about to step into a horror movie.

John’s hand tightens around your wrist, tugging you forward into the musty air inside the barn. You want to dig your heels in now, fight him and scream not to drag you inside. Your hand is shaking, curling in on itself until your nails dig into your palm.

“Hi darlin’. Didn’t know you’d be joining us too.”

You feel like you’ve been punched in the gut, the breath leaving your lungs.

“Phil.” You breathe, nearly choking around his name.

He’s seated in the middle of the barn, restrained in a chair. He looks far too comfortable and casual sitting there, greeting you like he would an old friend.

There’s a table beside him filled with all sorts of instruments. Knives, scalpels, an ice pick.

Your stomach twists as you realize what’s about to happen.

The other four approach Phil, leaving a gap so you can see him as you linger behind. You have half a mind to turn and run out the now closed door, but something keeps your feet frozen to the ground.

“You’re wasting your time.” Phil says, addressing the four members of your pack now. “I don’t know where Shepherd is.”

“That’s not why we’re here.” John says, his voice deeper and rougher than it had been just outside. “You tortured a member of our pack.”

“Our omega.” Johnny says through gritted teeth.

“Oh I see, a little revenge then.” Phil says, a smirk lifting on his lips as he stares at you. “And you brought a little audience.”

***Content Warning: Torture ***

You jump as Simon takes a step forward, rearing back before punching Phil across the face. His head snaps to the side from the force of it, a grunt leaving his lips. Simon grips his chin, yanking his head back to the other side so Phil is looking up at him.

“We’re going to do the same to you that you did to her.” He growls out.

The words have a shiver tickling down your spine.

Simon releases Phil before drawing his fist back to throw another punch. Nausea churns in your stomach as something cracks, the sound echoing in the silence.

“Solid hit, big man.” Phil grins, spitting onto the floor before sitting up straight again. “You’re going to have to hit me harder than that.” His eyes flicker to you as you stand there in shock. “You can ask your omega how hard I hit her.”

Johnny surges forward, wrapping his hand around Phil’s throat. “Give me a knife. I’ll cut his tongue out.”

Phil lets out a choked sound, your own throat constricting a bit from the memory of Phil’s hand choking you. Tears fill your eyes as Phil’s face begins to go purple from the lack of oxygen.

“Easy.” John says, easing Johnny off of Phil. “We’re not done yet.”

Phil lets out a choking cough, his hands straining where they’re tied to the arms of the chair. “Not bad.” He coughs out, his face still red. “Gonna have to try harder than that.”

John punches him in the face, sending his head snapping the other direction. Blood trickles from his lip, his tongue darting out to lick the wound.

“Of course the alpha would spill the first drop of blood.” Phil says, letting out a chuckle, his gaze returning to you. “This is going to take a while, sweetheart. Why don’t you go back outside and wait for your boys to be done, hm?”

“No.” John says, his hand closing into a fist again. “She’s going to watch every last bit of this.”

Your stomach churns as he throws another punch at Phil, this one landing with another sickening crack. You don’t really want to watch this, but at the same time, there’s a sick sense of satisfaction filling you as your pack takes revenge on your behalf. Your omega is nearly purring, watching in glee as they drive punch after punch into Phil’s face.

“You’re going to have to try harder than that.” Phil chokes out around Simon’s hand where it’s wrapped around his throat.

“We’re just getting started.” Kyle says, grabbing a knife from the table.

Phil lets out a pained yell as Kyle stabs the knife into his bicep, slowly dragging it down his arm. It’s deeper than Phil had cut you, blood pouring out of the open wound. Your stomach twists, nausea bubbling up into your throat. How easy this all seems for them.

How easily Phil had tortured you.

Your fingers trace the thin, pink line down your own arm, your skin burning with a reminder of what happened to you.

The realization of what’s happening settles in as Kyle drives the knife into Phil’s chest, dragging it downward in another deep cut. You do want to turn around and go outside. You don’t want to watch this anymore.

The soft call of your name has you coming back to yourself. Your pack has turned to face you now. You hadn’t even realized that you had turned your head away. Tears have trailed down your cheeks, your breath hitching.

It’s John that’s called your name, his hand outstretched. He’s holding the ice pick. Your shoulder throbs at the sight of it. The memory of one almost exactly like it being stabbed into your scent gland has a whimper leaving your lips. You know what he’s asking, what he’s offering. Phil inflicted the worst pain you’ve ever felt onto you. Now you’re being offered the chance to do the same to him.

Your omega is screaming, yelling at you to take it, to return what he did back to him. It’s his fault this happened. Weeks of pain and agony that you will always remember. He did that to you.

You’re moving before you even realize it, your fingers wrapping around the cold metal. Your omega is taking over again, driving that instinctual violence forward again. Simon is standing behind Phil, holding his head to the side. He looks like shit, his face already bruising and covered in blood. The metallic scent of it is strong, your mind flickering back to those soldiers, his soldiers, the ones you killed with that knife. You wonder what happened to it, if it’s still laying out in the forest, the last lingering remnant of the violence that happened there.

You stare down at Phil, at his exposed neck. He’s jerking against Simon’s hold, as if he knows and understands what’s about to happen, as if he can already sense the pain that’s about to be brought on him. Does he? Does he really understand?

He’s about to.

Your hand moves before you can stop it, driving the ice pick as hard as you can into his scent gland. He lets out a yowl of pain as the metal slides under his skin and into that sensitive spot. You remember it, the lightning-like pain rushing through your body, every nerve-ending on fire, every movement agony for days and days and days.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” You say, pushing the ice pick as far as you possibly can into his body. “It’s the worst pain I’ve ever felt. Worse than all those years I sat in that institute thinking about my family, the family you helped tear me away from.” You take a step back, leaving the ice pick in his shoulder. “You’ll never forget it, that kind of pain.”

Simon wraps his hand around the ice pick, pulling it free. Blood seeps out of the hole, pouring down Phil’s chest. He jerks in his restraints, his eyes squeezed shut.

“You deserve to feel that kind of pain.” You say, taking another step back.

“Look at you.” Phil laughs, tilting his head up with a wince. His eyes are on you, focused solely on you as you stand there. “Tough little thing. Turning more and more like your father, aren’t you?” His words bite at the back of your brain, your omega screaming at the insult. His eyes leave you, instead roaming over the three members of your pack standing in front of him. “No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t hide her away from this world, could you?”

He’s not talking to you anymore.

“You’d always leave a stain on her. Eventually it would come around. She’d get caught up in a life like this, a life of violence and bloodshed. Proud of yourselves?” He lets out a chuckle. “You ruined such sweet innocence.”

“Shut yer fuckin’ mouth.” Johnny growls as Simon moves back around so he’s standing next to you.

“Ooh, hit a nerve did I?” Phil laughs, turning his gaze to you. “You know your dad never checked you made it to the institute? As soon as you were out of his sight he could finally stop caring about you.” Phil licks his lips. “I should have just taken you right then. No one would have known the difference. None of this would have happened. You’d still be just a sweet little innocent girl, just like you always should have been.”

Anger and rage burns through you at his words. Years of repressed fears and emotions surging out all at once. Later you’ll wish you could blame it on your omega, that she took over in this moment, but that’s not the case. It’s you in your true form, in your own rage at Phil for his words, for his actions, for the ways he’s ruined your life even still years later.

Time slows as your fingers wrap around the knife strapped to Simon’s side. It slides out of its sheath easily, your body moving forward as you grip it tightly in your hand. It won’t be the first time, your brain flashing back to all of those men, men who would have done worse things to you had your omega not acted on instinct. She’s screaming at you now, still, clawing at the poorly constructed cage you’ve forced her back in, calling for violence.

You’ll give it to her.

The knife cuts through his skin easily, sliding downward as you stab it into his neck. Blood spurts out, coating your hands in the slippery liquid. Adrenaline courses through your body, your vision going red as you yank the knife from his throat, blood spraying out of his artery from where you’ve severed it. It’s like some gruesome renaissance painting as you’re pulled back, an arm around your waist tugging you backward away from the quickly fading body in the chair, your mouth still open in an enraged scream.

The knife drops from your hand as you’re tugged backwards, your body falling against a solid one. Your legs feel like jelly as the adrenaline pumps through your system, your blood covered hands shaking as you stare at the lifeless body of a man you once thought of as a family friend. A man who played such an integral part in your life behind the scenes. A man who was almost your alpha, a man who would have been your alpha had it not been for the woman standing outside.

The man who tortured you and brought you more pain than you’ve ever felt in your entire life.

He’s dead now. He can’t ever hurt you again.

Nausea churns in your stomach as you sit there, staring down at your blood-soaked hands. It’s deep red and sticking to your skin, no matter how much Kyle tries to wipe at it with a t-shirt. Your body has gone numb as reality has settled in.

You just killed a man.

“Easy.” Kyle says, his hand warm against your chilled skin as he wraps his fingers around your arm.

You’d jerked away from him, nearly slipping off the edge of the trunk. The trunk of the SUV is open and you’re seated on the edge of it, toes pushing into the gravel below to hold yourself up. Kyle had been trying to wipe the dried blood off of your hands, but no matter how hard he scrubbed, some of it wouldn’t come off.

“Here.” Footsteps approach in the gravel, the rocks crunching under boots. “Go help Simon.”

Rougher hands replace Kyle’s, wrapping around your wrists. You jump when the cold water hits your hands, shocking you out of your dazed state. You lift your gaze up to John’s face as he wipes the blood from your hands, the shirt quickly becoming stained with red streaks.

“This wasn’t our intention. I just want you to know that.” He says, his gaze focused on your hands. “We didn’t bring you here to kill him. I just thought you might want to know what was going to happen to him. Closure. Maybe you could rest easier knowing he wasn’t ever going to see freedom again.”

“He won’t see anything ever again.” You murmur.

“It doesn’t make you a bad person. Heat of the moment. He was saying some vile things to you.” John tries to comfort you.

“But that doesn’t mean I had to kill him.”

“Maybe not. He wouldn’t have lived much longer regardless.” Your hands are starting to feel raw with how hard John is scrubbing them. It’s almost like he’s trying to wipe the fact you’re a murderer from your hands. “None of us will think any less of you for what you did.”

You stare down at your hands as John finally relents his scrubbing. The blood is gone, but you’ll always remember the look of it staining your skin. “I’m sorry.”

John squats down in front of you, his hands closing around yours. They’re so warm compared to your own chilled skin. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“But I do. Phil was right. I’m not innocent anymore. I’m not a good omega. I lost that when I let her take over.” Tears slip down your cheeks, warm against your skin.

“That doesn’t make you a bad omega.” John says, reaching up to wipe the tears from your cheeks. “You’ve done what you had to do to survive because of our failures. We failed to protect you like we promised and we forced you into situations you shouldn’t have ever been in. We will never be able to apologize enough for what we did.”

“I’m scared, John.” You whisper. “I don’t want to be like this anymore.”

His brows furrow. “Be like what?”

“I still feel like she’s in control.” You say, more tears sliding down your cheeks. “I don’t think I’ve come back to myself at all.”

Tears still sting your eyes as you sit in the back of the car, watching the flames through the rearview mirror.

“Unfortunate that the old barn burned down.” Kate says, her voice slightly muffled through the closed car door.

“Feel sorry for the poor soul stuck inside.” John says.

“Too bad they’ll never be identified.”

Their words nearly make you sick again. How easily they talk about it, how easily they can detach themselves. It is their job, you suppose. This is just a normal occurrence to them. It scares you, how easily they confront death and dismiss it. It’s cold and unwelcoming, just like their attitudes had been upon your arrival. You should have known just by that. You should have turned and left when you wanted to.

Maybe then you’d have less blood on your hands.

Phil did deserve it, after everything. At least this way you know he won’t try to find you again, won’t try and get revenge of his own against your pack. One less loose string to worry about, John had said.

There’s just one more that needs to be tied off.

“Any sign of Shepherd?” John asks.

“None yet.” Kate answers. “Alex and Farah are investigating a couple of leads. You’ll be the first to know if they find anything.”

“Good. The sooner we can find him, the better.”

“He can’t hide forever.” Kate says. “We’ll find him eventually.” She glances towards the car. “You’ll be alright?”

John is quiet for a moment. “Eventually.”

“You need anything...”

“We’ll be sure to let you know.”

Cold air rushes in with the smell of smoke as Kyle opens the car door. He slides in, quickly closing it.

“We’re almost ready to go.” He says, shifting so he can put your seatbelt on for you. You’re glad he’s doing it. You’re not sure you could have managed it anyway. “Another long flight back to England.”

You feel like you’ve spent more time on a plane in the last few hours than you have in your lifetime. You’re not even sure what day it is, or what day it will be when you get back. A week could have passed and you’d never even notice.

“We’ll stop and get food before we go.” Kyle continues. You know he’s trying to talk to keep you distracted. “Anything you want in particular?”

Food is the last thing you want right now.

“Something we can eat on the road I suppose. Don’t want to linger too long anywhere.” Kyle trails off as the doors open, Johnny and Simon climbing in. It’s a tighter squeeze this time thanks to John’s coat that he put on you to keep you warm. You don’t really need it in the car, but his scent is the only thing keeping you sane right now.

“Ye doin’ alright?” Johnny asks as he puts on his own seatbelt.

You hum in response, not trusting yourself to answer. You don’t trust yourself to say much of anything right now.

The smell of smoke hits your nose again as John opens the driver’s side door, climbing into the car. “Let’s get out of here.” He says, putting on his seatbelt before the car rumbles to life.

You lean back in the seat, staring at the smoldering ashes in the rearview mirror until they disappear around a bend as John drives away from the scene. Warm fingers brush the back of your hand, Kyle’s gaze down on your lap as he slowly curls his fingers around your hand. You stare at his hand for a moment before you look away, curling your fingers around his.

You don’t remember much of the flight back. You slept through a good part of it, reclined in a seat just like Johnny had been on the flight to America. You barely remember the drive back to the cottage, spending most of it in a sleepy daze with your head propped on Kyle’s shoulder.

Dr. Keller is there to greet you when you return, some delicious smell wafting from the open door of the cottage. It makes your stomach churn after hours of no food. You haven’t had much of an appetite, the memories of what had happened too fresh to allow you much else but the blissful ignorance of sleep.

You drag your feet up the steps of the cottage, passing Dr. Keller in a haze as you head straight for the comfortable familiarity of your bed. You can hear quiet voices through the wall as you manage to work your heavy limbs out of your clothes and into something more comfortable.

You just want to sleep more, sleep forever if it were possible. In sleep you don’t see the blood staining your hands, the spurt of blood from Phil’s neck where you’d stabbed him. You don’t see the light fading from his eyes, his body falling limp as he dies by your hand. In sleep you’re not a murderer, you can go back to when things were easier, when nothing mattered but being a good omega for your pack. Back when your only stress was making a good impression and doing your job like you’re supposed to.

What a shitty omega you’ve become. You can’t even hold your pack together anymore.

It’s not like they’re putting in much effort themselves, though.

Maybe you should let things fall apart. Maybe it would be easier on everyone if you just moved past this, moved on to an unhappy, short life in a care facility while your pack got to live out the rest of their days with nothing but a painful memory of the short stint they got as a full pack.

Phil was right. You’re not a sweet innocent little girl anymore. That person died as soon as you were forced into this pack. Maybe this was inevitable. By being forced with them you would always become like them. Good omegas learn to adapt to mesh well with their pack, giving up personality and wants in favor of making alphas happy. Maybe this is what they want, maybe this was the way things were always going to end up. You were doomed from the start to become just like them.

You press your face into your pillow as tears slide down your cheeks, willing yourself to fall into the sweet embrace of sleep once again.

“John told me what happened.” Dr. Keller says as you sit outside in the cold morning air. “I just want you to know that it doesn’t make me think any less of you.”

You wish she would. You wish she’d yell and reprimand you for killing someone. You wish any of them would call you a bad person, a wicked soul capable of taking the life of someone else.

They’re all acting like it’s normal, like it was nothing.

You hate it.

“You’re not a bad person.” She says.

“I killed someone.” You retort.

“Did you?”

Her words make you pause. You did. You remember the blood staining your hands, the warm spray of it from Phil’s neck. It was your hand that drove the knife.

“I want you to walk me through what happened. Step by step.” She says.

You let out a sigh. It’s not the first time you’ve been over it in the last day. “They were torturing him, but he wouldn’t stop talking. He said that he wished he had just taken me instead of sending me to the institute, and how that way I’d still be an innocent little girl.” Your voice starts to shake. “I got really mad. I barely remember grabbing the knife.”

“Right there.�� Dr. Keller interrupts you. “Walk me through that second by second. What were you feeling beyond just anger?”

You pause for a moment, thinking it over. What were you feeling? “Blinding rage.” You say. “I was so angry because he helped ruin my life just because he wanted me.” You swallow the lump in your throat. “Just the idea of being his...” Nausea churns in your stomach. “It’s like my brain went numb. It acted on instinct. I didn’t even know Simon had a knife until I was grabbing it.”

“What was your omega feeling in those moments?”

You pause to think again. You hadn’t taken into consideration your omega during your ruminations, when you’d told Dr. Keller your side of the events the last few times. “She was...angry too. But, at first, she liked it. She liked Phil being tortured. She wanted me to stab him with the ice pick.” You swallow thickly. “Why did I do that? Why didn’t I say no?”

“Revenge is a fascinating part of human thought processes.” Dr. Keller says. “In the moment, it fires up those reward centers of the brain. It feels good, feels satisfying. The desire to act on those impulsive needs to dole out justice against someone that wronged you is natural. While it’s not the best idea, it’s just human nature to want to get revenge. In the heat of the moment, logic is the last thing on your mind. Throw in an uncontrolled omega and you may find yourself doing things you don’t want to do, and you don’t know why.”

“So it was her fault.” You say, wiping your nose.

“Not exactly. Instincts are complicated things to consider. Instincts don’t care about your feelings or what society considers acceptable. They’re natural, ingrained behaviors in response to certain stimuli and events. A bear chases you, you run. An alpha threatens you, your omega fights back. While yes, what you did may be morally questionable, in the moment, your omega didn’t care about morals or societal expectations. You felt threatened and uncomfortable and your omega acted on your behalf.”

“It’s because she’s out of control.” You say.

“Yes. You let her out of that specially crafted cage you learned to keep her in, and now she’s going to fight tooth and nail to stay out. You’re in a very delicate state and it’s not surprising your omega decided to act for you.”

“She’s so violent.” You say quietly.

“Omegas and alphas only show themselves for a handful of reasons. Usually those involve danger or extreme emotions. Omegas especially show themselves when violence is needed. We are all fighters at our core, even omegas. You yourself may not be a violent person, but your omega is unsettled. She’s on high alert and any perceived threat could set her off, or any moments of high emotions, such as witnessing what you did.”

You look down at your hands, imagining them covered with blood again. “I wanted to leave. I should have.”

“We can’t change what we’ve done in the past. Your omega was likely largely responsible for what happened in those moments. While that doesn’t absolve you of guilt entirely, that also means you weren’t fully in control of yourself when it happened.” She reaches out, putting a hand on yours. “I believe you when you say you didn’t want to do it. I don’t think you’re capable of it in your right mind. You’ve been through a lot over the last few weeks. I thought it was a bad idea to take you, but you know John.”

“He thinks he knows what's best because it’s what he thinks is best.” You murmur.

“You can confront him about that.” Dr. Keller says, leaning back in her chair.

You snort. “That will go well.”

“It might. Your pack has expressed their willingness to change, to adapt to what you want. You have the power to change your pack. If you don’t like the way they’re doing something, then tell them.” She gives you a pointed look. “They won’t know what to change if you don’t tell them what you want to change.”

“I’m scared to ask them.” You admit.

“Why? Why are you scared to ask them?”

“Good omegas adapt to their pack, they don’t ask. They don’t ask their pack to change just for them.”

She gives you another look. “Don’t go regressing that far on me.” She shifts in her seat, leaning closer to you. “We’ve talked about this before. You’re a part of this pack too, just as much as they are. You have a right to communicate your needs and your wants just as much as they do. You’re an equal in this pack, and they’ll be the first to agree with that. While their actions of late have been questionable, they do still care about you and want to make you a true equal in this pack.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” You huff.

“Then let them show you.” She says. “What’s the harm in asking?”

“They say no.” You say. “I don’t think I could handle it if they said no.”

“But what if they say yes?” Dr. Keller squeezes your arm. “You’ll never know until you ask. In my professional opinion, I think you hold more power now than you realize. A lot of things happened to you, but a lot of things happened to your pack as well, and within those bonds.”

“Yeah. They’re all fractured now.” You say.

“They’re in rough shape, but they’re not unfixable. You have to want to fix them. You’re the only one that can fix them.”

“I don’t like that power.” You say. “Part of me wants to end things.”

“But, that means there’s a part of you that wants to repair them. As your doctor, I suggest listening to those thoughts more than the ones telling you not to. It won’t be easy, but I think it’s worth your time to try.”

Tears fill your eyes as you sit there, thinking over her words. You do want to try. You want to try so badly, yet you can’t help that nagging in the back of your mind that everything will go back to the way it was before.

“What do you need?” Dr. Keller asks softly, brushing some of the hair from your face as you cry.

What is it you need? A new brain, a reset button, some amnesia? All things you can’t have. You’ll have to choose with what you do have. What do you have? A pack that desperately wants to help you. They’ve told you that themselves. Kyle told you things would get better, but here you are with more blood staining your hands. Kyle wouldn’t lie to you. Not like that.

You have the power now.

“Johnny.” You sniffle. “Get me Johnny.”

NEXT ->

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#call of duty #call of duty fic #cod fic #cod x reader #john price x reader #captain price x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #johnny mactavish x reader #soap x reader #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #a/b/o #omegaverse

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g4rvez-r3id · 5 months ago

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One Bed…

S6! Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU Reader

Synopsis: You and Reid get paired together in a hotel room after a case, only to discover there’s only one bed in the hotel room. And that said hotel room is freezing.

Category: Fluff!

Warnings: established friendship, age gap between reid & reader (8 years, spencer is 29, reader is 21/22), takes place mid-season 6, pre-lauren storyline- all basic criminal minds themes, (nothing too graphic, just mentions of a case)- mentions of 4x07 “Memoriam”, 4x26 “…And Back”, 5x01 “Faceless, Nameless”, reid is a reduced to a dummy when it comes to women, teasing, mutual crushing, cuddling, all the fluff! slowburn (?) that should cover it(?)

Author’s Note: hey, lovelies! this is my first time writing on tumblr so please take it easy on me, it’s my first time doing this, haha! my specialty is wattpad and this was originally an idea i had for one of my books but i realized it more so fit reid x reader so here y’all are!! <3

It was a pretty tough case. The ones with children always were, at least. Since it was now the nighttime, everyone had headed back to their hotel for the night. They would be flying home early the very next day.

Hotch had told the team that they would all have to share their rooms as they headed up to the third floor, where all of their rooms were. Hotch handed Emily, Morgan, you and Reid two keycards so they could figure out how they were rooming.

Naturally, Hotch and Rossi went to go share a room. You looked over at Emily, but realized she soon called the room with Morgan. You furrowed her brows at Emily and the woman shrugs, “You snore.”

You deny the rumor and shake your head, “I don’t snore.” Morgan and Emily chuckle to themselves as Morgan opens up their room door with one of the keycards.

“It don’t matter,” Morgan replied. “You’re still sharing a room with Reid.” He tosses over yours and Reid’s keycard to you and you catch it with a sigh as you watch the two disappear into their hotel room.

You turn around and look over at Reid, who is showing off his tight-lipped smile, and holding his satchel strap on his shoulder. He almost looks sad at your reaction to you two sharing a room together. “S-Sorry.” He apologizes, not exactly knowing what he’s sorry for once he says it.

You shake your head and furrow your brows at Reid. “Oh, don’t be sorry, Reid. I’d rather actually share a room with you than either of them.” You lean closer and whisper a bit. “They both snore.”

“We heard that!” Morgan and Emily shout from the other room.

“You were meant to!” You shout back.

Reid has a small smile protruding onto his face as he looks down and you nudge your head towards the room next door. “Come on, I’m wiped.” You yawn, holding the keycard in her hand.

As soon as you open the door, you’re full on expecting two beds — one you’re expecting to crash on after your nightmare of a case and the other you expect Reid to be reading on for the rest of the night, since he barely sleeps enough as it is.

Once you opened that door, your heart dropped. “Oh, my God.” You groan as you throw your head to the ceiling in disbelief and Reid peeks over your shoulder to see what the issue is.

You’re both staring at a menacing queen sized bed, right in the middle of the room.

You chuckle to yourself in disbelief. Of course, you and Reid were stuck with the room that only had one bed. This was bound to happen at some point with the amount of times you’ve had to share a room together. But this was different now that you realized you had a crush not too long ago.

You’d had a bad morning so far. You forgot to set your alarm clock, your coffee machine broke and you wound up with a stain on the shirt you were planning on wearing today to work.

This day could not have possibly gotten worse when you’d taken the Metro this morning and dealt with the crowd of people standing near the door and had to fight your way through them in order to get out.

But your morning ended up taking a turn for the better when you’d walked up to your desk to find your coffee order with a chocolate cake pop next to it.

You looked over at Reid and he smiled at you, guiltily and that’s when you realized he’d be the only person that makes a bad day turn better. And that these feelings you were hiding were blossoming into more.

It didn’t help that Morgan also teased you about it, saying how the pretty boy is falling for the pretty girl and how he didn’t manage to get his or Emily’s coffee orders like he did with you.

And then, you’d fallen hard.

And you worried that this was only going to make it worse.

Both you and Reid looked at one another and you sighed as you placed her go-bag next to the bed.

“I can just sleep on the floor.” Reid offers, already settling his stuff on the floor.

You turn to him, shaking your head. “No, you don’t have to do that, it’s fine.” And you feel bad that he even suggested it to you.

“No, I insist. I don’t- I don’t sleep that much anyways. And you could use the rest.” He told, no hint of annoyance in his voice as he spoke.

You looked back on the bed. You couldn’t ask him to do that. Not for you, as much as the gesture seemed polite. But you’d feel bad if he didn’t at least get a few hours of sleep on a nice bed rather than a hard floor.

Which is why, after their nighttime routines, you were placing pillows in between yourself and Reid. Reid had noticed the goosebumps on your skin as you fixed the pillows between them. He saw that you opted for a white top and sweatpants to wear to bed. No doubt you were freezing.

“This is a pillow barrier. We cannot cross the pillow barrier. The pillow barrier prevents any contact. So, it’s not… weird. Okay?” You explained and Reid nodded to your words. “Okay.”

With that, you turned off the lamp on your bedside and Reid’s was still on because he was currently reading. His book tonight was The Illustrated Man by Ray Bradbury. You’d been the only one who he talked to about it, something about science fiction short stories and how it was his twelfth time reading it.

Your heart absolutely fluttered that day he talked about it, the light in his eyes gleaming with excitement as his mouth moved quickly to explain what he was reading to you. You often hated when Morgan or JJ would quiet him down due to his rambling, but you loved every minute of it.

(Of course, it may have had something to do with the fact that you’ve been harboring a massive crush on him ever since you joined the bureau nearly three years ago.)

An hour or so had passed and Reid had finally gone to bed. But your slumber was being interrupted by the freezing cold air every hour or so. You were confused on how a hotel room could be so freaking cold.

You turned over to see Reid’s backside and realized that one of the pillows had been removed from the pillow barrier and then realized you were the one that had been holding the pillow.

But you held onto it even tighter when the cold air touched your skin and you moved deeper into the covers. Doing so, you realized your foot nudged against Reid’s leg. You also noticed that Reid was still awake because he turned his head over to the girl.

“S-Sorry.” You muttered as you burrowed yourself deeper in the covers. Reid then sat up and turned the lamp on. “Are you cold?” He asked.

“J-J-Just a little.” You admitted, teeth chattering as you spoke. It had to have been below 40 degrees in this room. Reid stood up from his side of the bed and you felt him get up and you turned over to see what he was doing.

You then saw Reid had reached into his bag and picked up one of his sweaters. It was his red cardigan sweater he’d worn just about a couple of cases back. He was gonna wear it tomorrow before they left but he hadn’t had a use for it at the moment.

“Here,” Reid spoke, tossing the cardigan to you on the bed. “You need it more than I do.” You didn’t bother to get out of the covers as you put it on and wrapped it around your body.

“Sorry I woke you up.” You apologized to Reid as he got back in the covers. “No, it’s fine. I was already awake.” Reid stated, turning the lamp on before getting deep in the covers as well.

“You never went to bed?” You asked. “Can’t really attempt to sleep when all you can hear is teeth chattering nonstop.” Reid told, and you chuckled a bit through your shivers. “Sorry.” She said. “It’s okay, really. I don’t sleep much anyways.” Reid admitted and you turned over to him.

You two looked into each other’s eyes and you’d scooted back a bit, realizing you were getting way too close. No, no, don’t think about kissing his perfect lips, right now. But you felt the heat radiating off of his body practically.

“Any facts on how to stay warm?” You joked and Reid shrugged. “Well, there’s warm beverages like hot tea and coffee that could help you stay warm. Moving around at least once an hour and avoid sitting still for long periods. Even light exercise will help keep you warm. There’s also—”

Reid then stopped himself and you furrowed her eyebrows at him. “What’s wrong?” You asked.

“Oh, this is usually where most people stop me from droning on an on.” He said. “I’m aware that I tend to ramble a lot.”

“Well, I’m not most people,” You told and Reid was left confused for a moment. “Go on.” You encouraged.

You always loved his quirks, his personality, his rambling, the way he often sported cashmere cardigans and mismatched socks because he thought it was good luck. Everything about him you just seemed to enjoy. And he didn’t seem to realize it until now.

Spencer smiled to himself a bit and carried on with his last sentence, hoping to God it wouldn’t sound strange suggesting it. “There’s, uh, also sharing, uh… body heat with… someone. The rate of heat transferred from one body to another increases with the difference in temperature between them. Consequently, the rate of heat lost from a human to the surrounding very cold ambient environment is lower than the rate of heat lost from a human to another human. Like, cuddling, for example, it actually has warming benefits.” He explained, finishing off with his signature tight-lipped smile.

“Cuddling?” You questioned, raising a brow at Reid.

Reid looked at you and realized that maybe you viewed that fact as him trying to cuddle with you and felt as if he was initiating something that he didn’t mean to initiate.

“Not-Not-Not that I, uh, was suggesting that, uh… we-we should, no, I do-did-didn’t—” After stuttering numerous times, Reid nearly just shut up completely and was happy that you had finally decided to interrupt him.

“No, it’s, uh,” You sat up a bit. “It’s actually not a bad idea.” It was Reid’s turn to be confused now as he raised a brow at you this time. “I mean, if you are-if you are… uh, com-comfortable with it… that is.”

Reid’s mouth is open in shock and you close your eyes, now realizing how it sounds. “Oh, God, this just got weird. Uh, how about I just sleep on the floor tonight?”

“No!” Reid answered immediately and you looked back at him, in shock on how fast he denied that. He clears his throat. “I mean, I don’t-I don’t mind. As long as, uh, y-you don’t?” He finished off in rather a question than a statement.

“Uhm, not-not at all. I’m freezing anyways.” It took a second for either one to move so you just started off by removing the rest of the pillow barrier between them. It a simple start to a grand finale.

Since Reid was very inexperienced on how to handle things with girls involved, you kind of just took the lead. You then hesitantly put your head on his chest, feeling his heartbeat going 100 miles per hour as you did so.

Reid felt like he didn’t know where to put his hands and immediately settled his right arm around your waist. You kind of found it cute at how flustered he seemed. You wrapped her arm around his slender torso, holding onto him.

In the midst of getting comfortable, the heat radiated off both of their bodies and you snuggled closer subconsciously if anything. Reid’s head rested on top of yours as you moved closer.

“This, uh, this isn’t weird, right?” You asked, beating yourself up for even asking. “Not weird at all.” Reid assured, answering rather quickly. “I think it’s best if we don’t mention this at all to the team, though—” You nod faintly, “I agree.” She said. “They’d never let us live it down. This is purely because I’m cold, that’s it.” Reid agrees, “Yes, that’s all it is.”

She could see Morgan and Emily’s teasing and Garcia’s prying from a mile away. There was absolutely no way they’d live down the harrowing embarrassment.

“Do you think, you could like… I don’t know, give me like some… random facts about something?” You asked and Reid didn’t quite understand what you were asking. “It would really help me sleep.” You added, knowing you could listen to him all day if you wanted. And he’d secretly hoped you wanted to.

So, Reid decided to ramble about anything necessary. It started off with some minor body heating facts, then about numbers, then Doctor Who, then the hotel building’s history and the architecture.

What Reid didn’t realize was that you’d had fallen asleep as soon as he started talking about Doctor Who and he should’ve realized sooner when you stopped asking questions and started responding with ‘mm-hmm’ every few seconds until you were finally lulled to sleep.

He finally came to a stop around 3:30am and noticed that the teeth chattering had finally stopped. He looked down at you and had taken account of your features like he hadn’t before.

Your nose that scrunched up when you slept and had an itch to scratch. Her eyelids hiding the orbs he’d admire once in a while when you looked his way. Her lips (that were in dire need of chapstick at the moment) but nonetheless looked… good. Definitely not kissable. Your hair, which was currently to your shoulders once you cut it on a whim. He never told you but he liked it at this length. He preferred your hair longer when it was but you could suit anything and he’d still think you were pretty.

Yes, he’d admit it — Spencer Reid thought you were pretty.

There was a total of five times in his life now that he realized he may have a slight crush on you.

The first time being when you walked into the bullpen that first day. You started off with a consult on the case and he admittedly thought you very pretty and Garcia and Emily teased him for it. But he was allowed to think you were pretty without liking you. But when it came to it, he was stuttering like an idiot and his facts surrounding the case were running 100 miles an hour in his brain and Emily said something about his IQ being slashed to 60. That’s when he knew something was up. He never got like this before. But of course, he’d never admit it.

The second time was when you defended him in Las Vegas when he thought his dad murdered Riley Jenkins. When Morgan and Rossi were giving him a hard time, you’d taken his side. It didn’t help that you’d also had issues with your own father. He always knew he could relate to you with the daddy issues — it’s probably the reason why you two ended up so close. You’d stuck by his side during the whole thing and he’d known you wouldn’t exactly do that for anyone else on the team that quickly after you’d joined. And he’d do it for you, too.

The third time was the time when they had that case in Canada and you two were paired up to look into the life of their unsub, Lucas Turner. He remembered climbing on the ladder and you following behind him and how you almost fell off the unsteady ladder but he’d caught you. You were both stuck in a weird position at first, his hand around your waist and your arm around his neck. He remembered how he looked into your eyes and felt a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach. And in a weird way, he sensed it from you too, but he wasn’t so sure if you felt the same way. He knew he was sure when you had immediately pulled away from the awkward encounter. But he couldn’t blame you. After that, the weird feeling in his stomach didn’t go away.

The fourth time was after he got shot in the leg and you had decided to stay with him for the night in the hospital. He didn’t even remember sleeping, if he was being honest. But he could remember your distinct laugh and your jokes and your facts about random stuff like he’d often do. You two had talked almost the whole night until maybe around 5am when you finally drifted off to sleep. He remembered how content he was when he turned over and had seen you sleeping right next to him. You looked uncomfortable in the chair you were sleeping in but you had wanted to be near him nonetheless. You had even taken him home once he was released. Of course, the team would come to visit before he got out of the hospital but you staying the entire time he was there meant more than anything.

The fifth and final time had been this moment. You, here, sleeping on his chest — simply because of body heat. He really didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable with that fact, he just thought he’d be telling you for her own benefit and to use that how you saw fit. He guessed, you saw it fit with him. And the fact that you liked his rambling, oh, that poor boy’s heart leaped so quickly.

But even after all these times he realized he may have a slight crush on you, he knew that you’d probably never feel the same way even with your head on his chest like this. You two were best friends and nothing more. Since JJ left, you two clung to the hip. You guys had each other now and that was pretty much all you needed. Of course, the two youngest team members should be friends, right?

Granted, you had eight years between you two which was also another reason why Reid couldn’t pursue his crush on you. You were twenty-one, turning twenty-two next month and he was coming up on twenty-nine. You’d started at the BAU the same time Rossi had, making you about eighteen when you were a consult on the case. But the way you carried yourself when you walked in the bullpen that day made you seem older. It seemed almost weird to him, liking you when you were so young. So, here he was, still holding back.

But now… times were different and they were different ages now and you were an adult in your early 20s. And finally since he maybe finally got to know you over the years, he realized you were an awesome person. An awesome person who bad things have happened to. In ways, he’d seen a younger version of himself walking through the BAU at times. You were nice and sweet and pretty and… well, Reid just didn’t know what his exact feelings were just yet.

When you two got up the next morning, you’d both kept your word about not reiterating a word to the team about their sleeping situation. You two actually hadn’t said a word to each other all morning because you were so busy, getting ready to leave for the jet.

And once you two left the room, you turned your key in and headed off to the jet to return home. What happened in that hotel room… stayed in that hotel room, as far as you guys were concerned.

But the one thing Reid told the team was that he didn’t even mind that you snored.

i hope y’all enjoyed my first tumblr story!! please let me know if y’all would like more!! :) thank you for reading! love you all!! <333

-mya

#criminal minds #mgg #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x bau!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x fem!reader #fluff #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x fem!reader #criminal minds x you #sc0ttsreid

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rafesangelita · 6 months ago

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♡ scare actors in a haunted house weren’t the only thing that made bambi!reader scream.. in which you and rafe accidentally stumble into an empty room while running away from a group of ‘killer’ clowns.

warnings: haunted house setting, slight teasing, ft. topper and kelce, getting chased, dirty talk, fingering, quickie, unprotected sex, semi-public sex

a/n: this is a collab fic w/ my mootie @fae-of-prey & my first ever collab on this account <3 please go check out the fic she posted to see the prompt i gave her 🤍 happy early halloween!

w/c: 1.6k

“rafe, i told you i didn’t want to do this!” you cried, clinging onto his arm as you two neared the doors of the haunted house. he took your hand in his, an amused expression playing on his face as your heart pounded in your ears. “baby, you’re with me. absolutely nothing could happen to you, ‘swear.” rafe reassured you, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. it didn’t help in the slightest when one of the scare actors crept up on you in the line, tapping your shoulder before screaming in your face. rafe, along with topper and kelce all laughed, your cheeks heating with embarrassment.

rafe saw a flash of hurt cast over your features, quickly shutting up his friends as he pulled you to his side. “alright, how about this; you walk through this haunted house with me, and i’ll finally take you to that pumpkin patch, ‘sound good?” you looked up at him, a pout on your lips. “..and you have to dress up as whatever i want you to be for halloween.” you added, both of you moving up in the line. refraining from cursing under his breath, rafe agreed. “alright it’s a deal.” he nodded, both of you locking pinky’s. soon, you two were at the front of the line, a man with a clipboard stood outside of the doors.

“if you could please look over this waiver, we need the signatures of all participants before allowing anyone inside.” rafe signed the waiver without hestation, passing the clipboard over to you. “you didn’t even read it..” you whispered, looking over the paper. obstruction of vision, flashing lights, small spaces, nothing too bad. you signed your name, giving the clipboard to the man before he opened the door for you and rafe. “have fun!” he shut it behind you two. you clung onto rafe, your boyfriend holding onto you tightly as he guided you through the dark room.

“you’re alright, just keep walking.” as soon as you took a step, a man in a grotesque mask popped out in front of you and rafe before allowing you two to go down the hallway. “i can’t even see anything!” you screamed, nearly tripping over your own feet. rafe cursed under his breath as he helped you balance, his hands holding you tightly to his side. “fuck, i didn’t think it was going to be this dark.” he looked around, your eyes shining with fear as a weeping lady started making her way down from the end of the hallway. “i think we should run.” you gripped rafe’s fingers, your heart pounding with every step she took.

just as rafe was going to agree, the lady in a bloodied white dress bolted towards you two, a piercing scream leaving her lips. “they’re coming!” you and rafe flashed each other a look, a metal door creaking open to your right. before you could turn, a pair of hands grabbed you by the back of your dress, the death grip you had on rafe’s arm making him tumble inside the room with you. “shit!” rafe fell, dragging you down with him. just as you two were getting up, the lights turned on, your eyes widening as you realized you and rafe were surrounded by at least eight clowns.

rafe eyed the various weapons they carried. from baseball bats with nails, to bloody chainsaws, he swallowed thickly at the menacing sight. “alright, this is a little scary now i can’t lie..” you whimpered when they started circling you two. “you only have one chance to get out.. make it count.” just then, they made way for you and rafe to run through a set of double doors, their heavy footsteps clashing with the cement flooring as they chased after you and rafe. the lights were flashing rapidly, making everything look as if it moved in slow motion. “y/n! over here!” rafe shouted, reaching for your hand.

you grabbed onto him, a gasp leaving your lips when you two ran past a sign that said ‘employees only’. “wait! i don’t think we were supposed to turn in here!” you were panting, looking behind you as rafe broke through the door. “who cares? at least we lost them.” he laughed, pulling you inside the dimly lit room before twisting the lock shut. he flipped the light switch on, and instead of being surrounded by clowns this time, you two were surrounded by racks of costumes. “yeah, we’re definitely not supposed to be in here.” you sighed, watching as rafe plopped down on a chair in the corner of the room.

taking a moment to inspect your dress, you grimaced as the once sparkling white material was now dingy and stained, your shoes matching the mess. “i look disgusting..” you whispered, your skin damp with sweat. rafe looked up, his eyes scanning down your figure. “no you don’t.” he scoffed, motioning for you to sit on his lap. you obliged, wrapping an arm around his shoulders as you took your seat. “what made you want to wear a dress for a haunted house, hm?” he pressed his nose against your neck, his hair tickling your skin. you giggled, resting a hand on his chest as you shrugged.

“just thought it would look nice..” rafe hummed, pressing a kiss to the underside of your jaw before you felt his fingers slip underneath the fabric of your dress. “what are you doing?” you caught onto rafe’s ministrations, your eyes darting around the room as his fingers inched closer to your underwear. “we’ve done it everywhere else.. why not add the annual ‘kildare haunted house’ to the list?” you gasped softly when he started rubbing you over your panties. instinctively, your thighs opened for the man at your side, your head falling on his shoulder while he continued rubbing hard circles onto your clit.

“rafe, what if someone walks in?” your cheeks heated at the thought. “they’re not.. will you please stop worrying and just let me take care of you?” you swallowed thickly, nodding as he brought your leg over his thigh so you could straddle him. “it’s not my fault you look so fuckin’ pretty every time we go out somewhere.” he said through gritted teeth, hiking your dress up around your waist. finally taking your lips with his own, you whimpered when you felt him move your panties to the side. “being scared gets you this wet?” he slid a finger between your folds, his digit gliding with ease.

you hummed, your hips moving to grind on his hand. “being chased seems to turn you on..” he teased your entrance, “at least now i know i could chase you around tanneyhill and if i catch you, i could do whatever i want to you.” you moaned at his words, the idea igniting a fire in your belly. “that sounds good?” before you could reply, you felt rafe’s finger slide into your soaked cunt, a half-scream falling from your lips at the delicious stretch. “fuck, bambi,” he smiled wickedly, using his other hand to hold your dress out of the way, “you’re gonna let everyone know we’re in here.” rafe laughed.

you didn’t care at this point, your eyebrows knitting together as rafe pumped his digit in and out of your needy pussy. despite you buzzing with pleasure, your clit ached to be touched, the lack of friction making you whine. as if reading your mind, rafe unzipped his pants, guiding the tip of his cock to your entrance before you sunk down on him, both of you letting out a moan. “even with fake blood on you, you’re gorgeous.” rafe wiped away a red streak from your cheek, his eyes swimming with lust as you moved on top of him. “thank you.” you hiccuped, grabbing onto his shoulders for leverage.

rafe’s hand snaked down between you two, his thumb stroking your sensitive bundle of nerves as he whispered filthy obscenities in your ear. “ride that fucking cock, baby. show me how bad you want it.” you cried out, your nails digging into his skin as he sped up the ministrations on your clit. the sound of your juices squelching with every movement of your hips turned rafe on beyond belief. within minutes, rafe felt his release approaching, your own high not too far away as you started trembling in his arms. your thighs burned for some relief, rafe could tell by the way your hips stuttered that you needed a break.

“rub your clit for me, bambi.” he guided your hand down to where his thumb once was, locking his arms around your waist before thrusting up into you at a brutal pace. you squealed in pleasure, both of your orgasms hitting each other at the same time. “son of a bitch..” rafe hissed as he spilled into you, your walls milking him for everything he had. you bit into his shoulder, the stinging sensation making him pinch your thigh. “oh my god,” rafe’s chest rose and fell with each breath, “are you okay?” you nodded weakly, resting your head on his shoulder.

rafe got both of you up, the two of you examining yourselves in the full body mirror to make sure you two looked presentable. “so i was thinking.. what if you dressed up as woody from toy story and i’ll be little bo peep?” you fixed your dress, batting your eyelashes up at him. once rafe fixed his belt, he flashed you a glare. “jesus christ, y/n..” he shook his head. “you promised!” just as you were going to clasp your hands together and beg, the door knob started rattling. “open the fucking door, man!” rafe recognized the voice immediately. “it’s locked, dumbass!”

“is that kelce and topper?”

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