#and he said he wished he could lower the prices but just couldn’t

[anaquariusfox]

No shade towards this user! But I would actually love to address this statement or thought process.

(And its actually £37 for you!)

But nonetheless, there are many things to consider when you’re criticizing an artist for the price of their works and here are a few!

How much time goes into the process of a piece(s)!

For example, I made not only one zine, but two in the span of 7 months. While working a 40+ hour a week active job. So all my free time was consumed with this zine. You may think $43 is a lot for a zine, but I am just one person make a whole NSFW zine. I wasn’t one of 20+ artists and fic writers putting one piece into a whole zine. And I won’t undervalue myself and my time! Also, most of my commissions, for one custom piece, cost more than not only my nsfw zine, but both my zines combined.

How much time goes into the technically side of the piece(s) (I.e. creating the actual zine with printing companies and sizing and resizing, and shipping and handling artists usually handle themselves)

For myself, it was hours and hours of file converting and resizing and in the end it still didn’t look good in zine previews, that’s why I decided to go digital.

The exclusivity of the artwork(s)

You’ll find a lot of things of this nature are either limited time products or exclusive to the product itself! For example, all my pieces in my NSFW zine, are for the zine supporters only, as well as my SFW being half favorite pieces and half new, zine exclusive pieces!

The content of said artwork(s)

My zine for example, is a “taboo” type of artwork, it’s basically a book full of porn. Not a lot of artist draw porn and even less nsfw artist, share it on social media! But here I am, sharing a whole exclusive zine of porn for two lovable characters! Oh, and as trans characters haha. They’re t4t in my zine because I draw the representation I want through my favorite characters!

* And in the end really! *

You’ve got to understand, as artists, we are putting out so much free content on social media. Whether it’s every day, every other day, once a week or once a month. You, as a consumer of our work, get free content (both old and new), all for free! Is that not wild?! For example, people pay $10 a month to see all the porn I’ve ever drawn on Patreon on then get to see the latest porn and sfw stuff I post! Ive been told by so many friends that I should charge more even! But that’s not the point of this post.

Artists could never share again, or put their craft and skills behind a massive paywall, but we love sharing and putting art into the world, cause fuck, a world without art would kill me. I literally love scrolling through my social media and seeing all my mutuals and artists I follow share their work and interests through art. I love seeing their minds work and what they felt so proud of to share it with the world.

And on top of that, if you think something is a bit too high in price, just remember all the free content the artist puts out, remember what art piece you love the most from them and why you followed them in the first place maybe! And by purchasing an item(s) from them, is a way of showing them support for all the joy their art has brought you 🫶😊 and just supporting artists in general vs large corporations who usually underpay their artists or just straight up steal art.

**In the end, I won’t undervalue my time and skill for a quick sale cause I’ve had people happily support me at the prices they are and I’m so grateful te for them.**

*** No artist should undervalue their work! We have a skill and took time to create this skill and study our skill to become better and better 🫶***

I do hope that anyone with the same mind set as this user, might have a new POV on the artists side/ BTS side of an artist and content creator when judging their prices.

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

Simon was seething. Never had he been so viscerally angry, his temper dangerously towing the tight rope that was his self control. You’d almost been killed. You’d been shot, and you were damn lucky that it hadn’t been fatal.

He found you on the roof later that night, no longer hiding the pain the bullet wound in your side had caused once you thought you were alone. It took all of two seconds of him seeing you hurting like that for him to snap.

“The fuck were you thinking out there, Y/N?!” His voice echoed in the night air, causing you to flinch slightly. “Do please tell me you’ve got a reasonable explanation for what happened.”

“Simon, please just calm down for a minute.” Your voice was soft, too soft, and it only fueled his anger more.

“Calm down? You want me to calm down?” Simon bellowed, his self control rapidly slipping out of his grasp. “You almost fuckin’ died, Y/N!”

Simon hated the way you flinched, hated the way you backed up ever so slightly away from him, but he couldn’t control himself. He had almost lost you.

“I know that, Simon. I know. But I don’t regret what went down.” You forced your voice steady, your eyes not leaving his as you attempted to stand your ground. “I-.”

“You don’t regret almost getting shot? Y/N, you’re not on this team to make reckless decisions. If I knew you’d be making choices like that, I’d have had Price kick you off the team months ago! Almost dying, for what? For what?!” Simon moved closer to you, the red in his vision nearly blinding, and this time you didn’t back away.

“For you, asshole!” You screamed, your hands reaching for Simon’s chest, pushing him as hard as you possibly could. Simon barely moved an inch before you screamed again. “For you! If I hadn’t taken that bullet, you would’ve died!”

Simon’s world stopped in that moment, the red vanishing from his vision, his heart coming to a slow halt in his chest as he absorbed your words. For him?

“He was aiming at you, Simon. If I hadn’t stepped in the way, we would’ve lost you. And I.” You trailed off, unable to look at the hulking man in front of you. “I don’t know, I didn’t hesitate, it was as if it was just instinct for me.”

Simon could hear his heartbeat in his ears, the soft thud thud thud the only thing keeping him grounded. You’d saved him. You’d risked your life to save him.

You, the sweet soldier who always put others first. You, the one who’d always patched him up late at night, laughing at his shitty jokes. You, the one who understood him like nobody else. You, the one person in this godforsaken world that got him to lower the never ending walls within him. You, the one he’d unknowingly loved for years. Saved him.

“I know it was stupid, and if you want to kick me off of the team for it, fine. But I’d do it again.” You threw your hands up in the air, and Simon didn’t miss the way you winced from the pain in your side. “I don’t regret it.”

Simon only stared at you, his eyes betraying none of the inner turmoil that he was currently experiencing.

“I couldn’t lose you, Simon.” Your voice was barely audible as you spoke, your eyes falling on the lower half of his mask. “Not now, not ever. I don’t know what I would’ve done if that bullet hit you.”

Simon’s eyes found yours as he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He opened his mouth to speak, but his tongue felt heavy, incapable of moving. For the first time in his life, he truly didn’t know what to say.

He watched as you chewed your bottom lip, your eyes leaving his yet again as you looked down at your feet. God he wishes he could say something, anything, but as always words failed him around you.

“I’ve got to go report in to Price.” You said, slowly turning away from him to face the door. “I won’t apologize for what I did, but I’m sorry for causing you to doubt my ability to support the team. Have a good night, lieutenant.”

Watching you turn away from him had finally stirred something within him, his heart rapidly beating in his chest. He had to make this right.

“Y/N.” Simon found his voice as you reached the roof’s door, causing you to turn to face him. “Wait.”

Your heart practically stopped beating upon finding Simon’s mask discarded, his face now fully bare for you to see. You weren’t sure what you had expected, once you’d finally seen him, but it certainly wasn’t this.

He was simply beautiful. Every scar, every small freckle, dimple, wrinkle had formed his face impeccably well, and you couldn’t help but stare at him as your mind ran completely blank.

You’d fallen for the masked man long ago, his dry humor, loyalty and bravery were something that’d you’d found yourself drawn to. You’d meant what you said to him about not regretting taking a bullet for him. You loved him. And truthfully couldn’t fathom a life without him.

“Now you see me.” Simon breathed, his eyes softening as he watched you take in every inch of his face. He should’ve felt vulnerable, shy even. But he didn’t. Not with you. He wanted you to see him, every imperfect inch of him.

He bared himself to you, let his face and eyes tell you everything he didn’t know how to express with words.

“I’ve always seen you, Simon Riley.” You spoke, your voice barely above a whisper as your hand softly cupped his cheek. “Always.”

And that was all it took for Simon to know he loved you.

[heytheredelulu]

Unbreakable

Unbreakable Part 2 can be found here!

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

ALL OF MY WORK IS 18+

C/W: Oral sex (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, cream pie, language

Summary: You’ve always wanted to be a mother but your husband is too tormented by his past to believe he could ever be a good father. For so long you’ve accepted that it will never be in the cards for you- after all, it’s only a small price to pay to continue to live the life you’ve built with the man you love. But what happens when you finally admit that you want what he refuses to give you? Will you push him away with your confession or will you finally make him realize that he’s not the man he believes himself to be?

A/N: Look, I’ve been hormonal as hell for the last two weeks and it’s got me craving some angsty, soft, needy Bucky-

And some passionate, sensual baby makin’ sex.

So without further ado, please enjoy the longest fic I’ve ever written.

“Doll?” Bucky asked softly, kneeling down in front of you and lowering his head to your level in an attempt to draw your attention up from the book sprawled open in your lap.

You’d been much more reserved as of late and it was beginning to worry him. Your smile seemed a little weaker, a little more forced, and your overall demeanor had reversed; as if the bright light that you always exuded had been extinguished and you were now floating along on the furls of smoke that were left behind- here physically, but mentally you were always elsewhere.

“Hmm?”

You turn the page gently without looking up and Bucky sighs, reaching to carefully slide the book off your lap, snapping it shut and placing it on the coffee table.

“Look at me, angel.”

You let out a slow breath, lifting your head to meet your husband’s troubled gaze, his brows furrowed in concern.

“You wanna tell me what’s wrong, or are you gonna keep hiding out with your nose in a book all day?” He asks quietly, hoping that this time you’d open up, pull back the curtains you’d drawn so tightly and let him into those veiled thoughts of yours.

You shrug, trying to avert your eyes but his hand gently grasps your chin, tilting your face back towards him.

“Angel, please.”

You shake your head, afraid to share with him what’s been troubling you for weeks, afraid to dredge up long washed away agreements.

“It’s stupid.”

He raises an eyebrow, pinning you under his cerulean stare.

“Nah, it’s not stupid if it’s got you this worked up. C’mon.”

He affectionately tucks a piece of hair that had fallen loose when you’d shook your head back behind your ear before offering you a small smile that breaks your resolve and you feel the tears beginning to form on your lower lash line, the translucent beads of heartache obscuring your vision.

“I want a baby.” You whisper, immediately wishing you’d never uttered those four words once you see the corners of his lips begin to pull downwards.

When he slowly stands and takes a hesitant step backwards, that mask of stoicism you’ve worked for so long to peel away slipping back into place, your heart seizes in your chest.

“Bucky..” You plead, a tear slipping down your cheek as you rise from your seat and reach out for him, afraid you’ve pushed him too far with your admittance. “James.. Baby.”

He shakes his head, holding his palm out towards you in a feeble attempt to maintain his distance while he mulls over your confession but you press forward, placing your hand gently on his forearm.

“I need some air.” He mumbles, shrugging off your hand and moving quickly towards the door.

Before you can muster the voice to call out for him again, the door is closing behind him with a soft click and he’s gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Why couldn’t you have just kept your mouth shut?

You scold yourself, your mind reeling with the possibility that you may have said too much despite only saying so little when you hear his motorcycle roar to life out in the garage.

He was running again.

You’d known the idea of children was a difficult subject for Bucky. It had only come up in discussion a handful of times before and when it had, he was always quick to dismiss it, stating he’d be a terrible father before descending into a rabbit hole of self-deprecating comments you’d have to reach down and pull him out of with a steady hand of reassurance.

As time went on you’d pretty much conceded to the idea that you’d never have the chance to be a mother if you wanted to continue to live the life you’d built with the man that you loved and you’d grown to accept that fact. At the time it felt like a small price to pay for the joy and love that Bucky brought you but as the years went on and your friends and coworkers grew their families, welcoming new, bright eyed babies, you began to feel a sense of longing for what you had always thought you’d never want.

His behavior was so much different this time, the way he’d clammed up, shut you out and needed to completely remove himself from your presence. His reaction had never been so extreme before and you couldn’t help but wonder if it was how desperate you’d seemed- the tears in your eyes, the pleading in your tone.

Those thoughts and unanswered questions weighed heavily in your mind while you escaped the afternoon inside the pages of your book until the sun began to set through the bay window and you finally dragged yourself up to bed, your restless mind carrying you into a dreamless sleep.

It was nearly 2 in the morning when Bucky crept barefoot into your bedroom, the hall light bathing your sleeping figure in a corridor of fluorescent light as he quietly opened the door. His breath caught in his chest as he lingered in the doorway, this vision of you reminding him just why he always affectionately referred to you as his angel.

He shut the door softly behind him, shedding his t-shirt and jeans before gently pulling back the sheets, his heart and his cock simultaneously swelling when his gaze settled on the image of you in your silk night gown as it rode innocently up your supple thighs.

He crawled silently up the foot of the large bed, lowering himself onto his stomach and settling between your legs, his hands gently kneading the tender flesh of your thighs as a low and shuddered breath blew from his lips.

He carefully pushed the hem of the silk garment higher, exposing your cotton briefs and the soft flesh of your belly, moving to rest his head against the bare skin. His hand hesitantly caressed your abdomen.

All afternoon his head had been plagued with the fear of losing you, the feeling of inadequacy resulting from the pain in your tone when you confessed the desire for something he felt he could never provide.

But once alone with his thoughts as he tore down the interstate on his motorcycle, physically trying to outrun the deep rooted trauma of his past, the pieces began to fall into place for him.

You’d loved him unconditionally through his trauma, offered him unwavering support and shined light to the darkest depths of his soul, always seeing something inside him that he could never see in himself.

But you were fading. Becoming physically and emotionally withdrawn under the weight of sacrificing such a fundamental need that you craved- all for him.

Maybe he’d never overcome his past. Maybe there would always be a darkness beyond the surface that kept its claws dug deep into the innermost reaches of his subconscious.

Or maybe he had already overcome it and had just been so blinded by his own self loathing that he hadn’t realized. Surely if he was as cold and broken as he believed himself to be, he never would have been capable of loving you in the all encompassing way that he did.

You, the one person in his life that could melt the ice encapsulating his heart with only a flash of your warm smile.

He’d never wanted children. He always believed he’d be a terrible father but the desperation in your eyes when you confessed that you wanted a baby with him brought him to consider that maybe it had always been his own insecurities rearing their ugly head as they always did when he tried to imagine himself as anything more than the man he used to be.

His hand stroked idly across your bare abdomen in slow, languid movements as he tried to picture the soft flesh stretched and swollen with his child.

His child.

A life created from the love and the passion that the two of you shared, to raise in the home you’d built together, to nurture with the kindness that you exhumed and to mold into a better person than he could’ve ever hoped to have been with the guidance only someone as patient as you could provide.

He’d never wanted to be a father, never thought he was capable of being a father.

But you, you made him feel as if he were capable of anything and as he had pulled his motorcycle over onto the side of the highway and wept that evening, he knew now without question that he wanted- no, needed you to bring his child into this world.

“Baby?”

Your sleepy voice penetrated his thoughts as you spoke into the dark room and reached your hands down to tenderly run your fingers through his brunette locks.

“You came home.” You mumbled, trying to rouse from your slumber enough to properly talk to him.

Bucky raised his head off of your belly, sliding his hand up your torso, through the valley of your breasts to settle at your nape. He gently cupped your jaw and tilted your head to look at him as he hovered above you.

“Of course I came home.” He says, the hurt evident in his tone. “Why wouldn’t I?”

You catch your bottom lip between your teeth to prevent it from quivering as your emotions begin to rise to the surface again.

“I don’t know. I just-“ You hesitate, worried that you’re toeing a fine line of sending him running again if you don’t choose your words carefully.

“Angel..”

He settles his thumb over your mouth, effectively silencing you as he gently strokes the pad of his calloused thumb across your bottom lip.

“I always come home.” He whispered, leaning down and tracing the tip of his nose across your jawline. “I will always come home to you.”

“I thought I’d scared you off.” You admit softlyly, reaching your hand down to caress his cheek, the light stubble rough against your skin.

He leans into your touch, his eyes slipping closed as he draws in a shaky breath.

“You could never scare me off.”

His jaw clenches and he opens his eyes, looking at you with a haunted gaze.

“If anything I’m scared of myself, doll.”

You move to sit up, wanting nothing more than to take him in your arms, chase the demons from behind his eyes with the comfort of your loving embrace but he’s quick to place a large hand between your breasts, firmly pressing you back down onto the mattress.

“No.”

He repositions himself above you, dipping his head and bracing his weight on his muscular forearms as he trails a line of open mouthed kisses down your bare abdomen.

His breath fans against the soft cotton of your panties as he hooks his fingers under the waistband and removes them at a torturously slow pace.

“I don’t wanna talk about me and my bullshit.” He says in a low voice, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh and sending a shiver up your spine.

“Actually, I don’t wanna talk at all.” He adds, lifting your legs to rest over his shoulders.

“Bucky.” You warn softly, reaching your hand down to push his hair off his forehead. “We really should talk about this. We can’t avoi-”

He steals the words from you when he gently spreads your folds with his fingers, his breathy chuckle warm against your sex.

“I’ve got a much better way to make use of my mouth.” He murmurs, bowing his head and glancing up at you with lustful eyes. The image of him between your thighs, looking at you with such intensity was enough to silence you entirely.

“Let me show my angel what heaven feels like.”

A desperate moan rises from your throat as Bucky laps at your weeping cunt in long, slow strokes with his flattened tongue. He laves upward, tracing gentle circles around your clit, catching the swollen bud between his lips and suckling, your back arching off the mattress in response.

“Fuck.” You whimper, carding your hands in his hair to hold him in place.

He hums, flitting the tip of his tongue downwards and dipping into your fluttering hole, drawing a gasp from your throat as he fucks you with it, euphoria building at the base of your spine.

“For an angel-“ He mumbles and raises his head up, his unshaven chin slick with your arousal, pinning you under his gaze as he sinks two fingers inside you and begins pumping them slowly.

“You sure do taste like sin.” He muses.

He latches back onto your clit, flicking his tongue in quick movements while simultaneously curling his fingers inside you, stroking you closer towards climax with every ministration.

“Baby, I- fuck!”

Fire erupts through your core and you clench around his fingers, tightening your grip on his hair and jerking your hips upward to grind your cunt against his face as you cry out in ecstasy.

He chuckles against your tender flesh as he withdraws his digits, the warmth of his breath causing you to writhe against the sheets as you ride through the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“You’re so goddamned beautiful when you come.” He whispers, wiping his mouth on his forearm and shifting his weight against the bed as he rises momentarily up to discard his boxers.

He positions himself above you, bracing himself on his palms, his biceps flexing as he dips down to press a kiss to your pulse point.

Dazed and breathless, you reach down to guide him to your entrance, pausing when your hand curls around the warmth of his bare cock.

“Shit, condom.” You mumble, working to maneuver yourself out from under him in order to reach towards the bedside table.

He stops you with a loose grasp around your throat, gently pushing you back into the pillows.

“Don’t need one.” He breathes out, settling himself between your slick thighs.

Your brows furrow in confusion and your mouth falls open in question but he carefully slides his hand up your neck to grip your jaw, pulling you into a deep and sensual kiss.

You slide your hands across the expanse of his toned back, returning the kiss with equal intensity before he breaks it, resting his forehead against yours.

He silently guides your hand to his hard and aching cock, closing your fist around it as he releases a shuddered breath against cheek.

“You’re gonna take my cock.” He grunts, peppering kisses across your jawline. “You’re gonna take my cum.”

He bucks his hips against your grip, urging you to bring him against your weeping hole.

“And you’re going to have my baby.”

Your eyes widen at his words, the quiver in his voice telling you this isn’t just some form of dirty talk but that he’s sincere and desperate.

“Bucky, are you sure?” You ask in a broken whisper, clarifying for good measure.

“You are going to have my baby.” He repeats, his voice carrying demand.

You let out a whimper, lining him up with your entrance and withdrawing your hand once he presses the leaking tip of his cockhead into your cunt, quickly burying himself inside you with a purposeful thrust of his hips.

You gasp at the stretch and he stills, his pelvis flush against you, sucking in a sharp breath at the way your inner walls are gripping him, free of the confines of a condom for the very first time.

“Goddamnit, angel. I don’t think I’m going to last very long.” He chokes out, the feeling of your tight, wet cunt engulfing his cock leaving him nearly breathless.

God, what he would do to stay inside you like this forever.

He draws his hips back, retreating almost completely before thrusting back into you. His lips part and his brows knit, breathy moans rising from his throat as he picks up a rhythm, his very soul craving to feel you around every inch of his length.

His hunger for you is apparent with every deep and merciless thrust and that sense of needful longing sets your every nerve ablaze.

He crashes his mouth against yours, kissing you frantically as reaches for your hands, lacing your fingers together in a fervent grip.

Pleasure pools low in your abdomen and you bring your trembling legs up to wrap around his waist, rolling your hips up in sync with his strokes as you chase your climax.

He groans in response and increases his pace, his heavy sack slapping against your ass with every frenzied rut into you.

“Oh fuck, please, baby. Please come on my cock. God, I need to feel you. Fuck, fuck!” He pleads with a shuddering breath that betrays how desperately he’s fighting to maintain his tempo as he climbs closer towards the edge with every passing second.

The sight of this beautiful man barely able to refrain from falling apart for you, begging for you to come on his cock, is enough to break you. White hot pleasure spreads through your core, flooding your body in a wave of euphoria as you cry out for him in choked sobs.

“Bucky! James, baby!”

He pounds into you at a brutal pace, incapable of holding himself back any longer, drawing strangled noises from you as he fucks you through the waves of the orgasm gripping your body.

“I love you, I love you, I-“ You whimper over and over in a cock-drunk stupor, rocking your pelvis sloppily against his movements.

He grunts, his hips stuttering as he stammers out your name in a breathless plea before giving one final deep thrust and he stills, emptying himself inside you with a throaty moan.

Bucky slumps forward burying his face into your neck, words of praise falling from his lips in a whisper against your skin as you remain in each other's embrace, hearts racing and chests heaving in the afterglow.

The steady thumping of his heartbeat begins to lul you towards a state of peaceful sleep and as your eyes slip closed, you feel the bitter emptiness of him withdrawing from inside you only to jerk back to full consciousness at the sensation of his fingertips against the tender flesh of your swollen cunt.

As you start to rise up on your elbows in order to better observe what it is he’s doing, he softly shushes you, smirking as he trails his fingers along your slit, gathering up any of his seed that had managed to escape your aching hole and gently pump it back in with his fingers.

“Not letting you waste a drop.” He murmurs, collapsing onto the bed beside you and reaching an arm around your waist to pull your back against his broad chest.

He envelops you in his warmth, his strong arms wrapped lovingly around you as he rests his nose against the crown of your head, slowly and deeply inhaling your scent.

“What made you change your mind?” You ask softly, snuggling your cheek against the bicep of his flesh arm.

His vibranium arm drapes across your abdomen and he splays his palm above your pelvic bone, gently brushing the cool metal of his thumb back and forth in affectionate strokes along your bare skin.

“You.” He replies, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Me?” You ask incredulously. “How the hell did I manage to change your mind about something you were so adamant about? We didn’t even talk about it, Buck. I just told you what I wanted.”

He sighs, settling his chin atop your head. “You’re right, we didn’t.” He admits in a low voice. “But you know I’m a man of few words, angel.”

“But that doesn’t mean we just avoid the subject completely and then jump headfirst into this. Not that I’m complaining, it’s just that I need to understand how you managed to get here. That was- this was unexpected.” You respond, placing a gentle hand over his forearm and stroking your fingertips lazily across the spray of soft, dark curls adorning it. “You say you’re a man of few words but I know damn well you have a lot to say, you just don’t like saying it. You don’t like grappling with your emotions, Bucky. I think maybe its because you spent so long having them repressed against your will.”

He’s silent for a beat before drawing in a slow breath and in those several moments of quiet you feel a rising sense of dread that maybe you had overstepped with your assessment.

“Do you know why I call you ‘angel’?” He asks quietly, his thumb stilling against your lower belly.

You tilt your head in confusion. “What?” You question, your own fingers slowing their leisurely circles along his arm. “Baby, you’re deflecting.”

“I’m not.” He explains, raising his head, his thumb resuming its languid strokes across your skin. “Just answer my question.”

You huff, resisting the urge to roll your eyes by instead moving them back and forth to follow the movements of his thumb. “It’s a pet name, like baby or doll.”

He shakes his head and lets out a soft chuckle, his breath tickling the back of your neck.

“It’s a pet name, yeah. But do you know why I call you that?” He asks.

You shrug. “No, I guess I don’t.” You reply, tilting your head back to look up at him. “Are you gonna tell me?”

His lips curve into a smile as he looks down at you and in the dim light of the bedroom you notice how glassy his eyes appear, as if he’s just a blink away from a tear escaping his blue eyes.

“Because you saved me.” He whispers with a small crack in his voice that makes your heart ache. You want to ask him how- how he could possibly say something as bold as that you saved him, but your breath is caught in your chest at the vulnerability Bucky is showing you in this moment.

“Baby, when you met me I was so broken. I think maybe I still am.” He continues, resting his cheek against your shoulder in a clear attempt to hide his expression from you because he was stubborn and you were right. Emotion was not something Bucky expressed freely because he spent nearly his entire life with them suppressed so if he had any hope of baring his soul to you now, he couldn’t possibly let you see his face as he did it.

“No one dared to get close to me because they were too afraid of getting cut on the shattered pieces of who I was. But not you. Never you.” He explains, pausing as he draws in a slow and shaky breath while he considers how to express how much you mean to him when he wasn’t entirely sure there were even words capable of doing so.

In his brief pause you shift your weight, rolling over to face him properly before he continues.

“You didn’t care if you got cut because you saw something in me worth believing in and you weren’t afraid to bleed to get to it. You rebuilt me. You saved me.” His voice is hoarse as he struggles to hold his composure and keep from breaking down completely. “Your faith in me gave me hope- it gives me hope that maybe I’m capable of more than I think I am.”

A single tear finally breaks free, slipping free of his lashes and sliding slowly down his cheek in the wake of his heart lay bare to you.

“You give me too much credit.” You whisper, reaching up to brush away his tear with a trembling thumb. Your touch lingers on his skin and he places his hand overtop yours, pressing your palm to his cheek as he pins you under his tender gaze.

“You don’t give yourself enough credit.” He counters.

“Neither do you.”

He opens his mouth to argue but closes it and sighs when he realizes you’re right. You’re always right.

“I love you. I love all of you- every single piece, including ones you say are broken.” You whisper, offering him a soft smile as you gently push the hair back from his sweat-slicked forehead.

“They are broken.” He breathes out.

“I don’t think that’s true. If it were, could you really love me the way that you do? Think about it, Bucky. After everything you’ve suffered? You’re not broken, you’re unbreakable.”

He hesitates, running his hand down his face to mask the way it crumples at your words and wipe away the tears now falling steadily down his cheeks.

“I don’t deserve you.” He whispers.

You sit upright, leaning forward and cupping his face in your hands, forcing him to meet your eyes.

“You deserve everything, Bucky. Life owes you love. It owes you kindness for fucks sake.”

“Not after what I’ve done.” He mutters, the ghosts of his past flickering behind his eyes as he begins to retreat down that godforsaken rabbit hole inside his head again but you won’t allow it. Not this time.

“Especially after what you’ve done. Because you weren’t given a choice.”

He shakes his head, his eyes squeezing shut as if he can’t bear to let you see him this way.

“And what happens when they find out who- what I used to be?” He asks in a pained tone, nodding towards your belly as if he somehow believes his seed has already taken root in your womb. “They’ll find out. We won’t be able to shelter them from the truth.”

“Baby, look at me.” You demand, your expression stern as you rise up and lean forward on your knees. “Will it matter when they only know you as the you that you truly are? How can I make you see yourself the way that I see you?”

Bucky sighs, his shoulders slouching. “What would I do without you?” He asks quietly, resting his hand against your thigh and kneading the flesh beneath his fingers.

“Never have clean laundry or dishes.” You tease in an attempt to lighten the sullen mood. He stares up at you in disbelief for several long moments before unexpectedly delivering a swift smack to your bare ass, drawing a yelp from you that is immediately followed by a string of lighthearted giggles.

“Damnit, doll- I’m being serious!”

“So am I!” You argue, stifling a laugh. “I found a cereal bowl under the bed!”

He groans, covering his face with his hands. “It was one time.”

You smirk, your eyebrow quirking up in skepticism.

“That’s one time too many.”

“You’re ridiculous.” He grumbles.

“But you love me.”

He hooks an arm around your waist, pulling you into his embrace with a dramatic groan and you rest your head against his chest, draping your arms around his neck.

“I do.” He whispers, tracing his fingertips along your spine. “More than I could ever begin to explain.”

“A broken man couldn’t love me. A broken man wouldn’t know how to love me.” You point out. “And God, baby- you make me feel loved every moment of every single day.”

His breath catches and you can hear his heartbeat begin to quicken in his chest against your ear before he rolls over abruptly, pinning you underneath him as he looks down at you with an expression of adoration and that familiar fire in his gaze.

You tilt your chin up, a grin stretching across your face as you place your palm against his chest and state proudly, “You are James Buchanan Barnes and you are-“

He devours the words from your mouth before you can finish speaking them as he kisses you with urgency, stealing the breath from your lungs with the way his mouth moves desperately against yours.

Your hands explore his toned back, the feeling of his muscles flexing under your touch driving you to greedily draw his body closer to yours until he settles his weight onto you.

He breaks the kiss with a smirk on his lips as your head falls back, sucking in a sharp inhale at the warmth of his cock pressing into the soft flesh of your bare thigh, already hard and weeping for you again.

He lowers his head, nuzzling his forehead against your temple as he completes your stolen sentence in a whisper against the shell of your ear:

“Unbreakable.”

Taglist (Taglist is open):

@badbunnybabygirl01 @suz7days @truthfulliarr @lilacka @writtingrose @samsgoddess @wintrsoldrluvr @loveisallyouneed1125 @vicmc624 @millercontracting @wildernessflora @mydorkyboys @blackhawkfanatic @honestlywork @ladyvenera @cavity-exe @ihavetwoholesforareason @km-ffluv @shortnloud @mrs-katelyn-barnes @somnorvos @22rhianna2006 @misshale21 @angelbaby99 @deans-spinster-witch @kezibear @alexakeyloveloki @terry2227 @acornacreacure

[her-power]

just for tonight (Joseph Quinn x fem reader / one shot) 18+

warnings: adorable as well as smutty. I guess that sums it up!

summary: this is a one shot based on an interesting dream I had involving JQ & myself & a casino. my hyper-fixation heart couldn’t help it and wanted to turn it into a story. enjoy!

a/n: a new Eddie Munson series is in the works & fixation on the darkness II is in brainstorm mode!

word count: 2k? Maybe? I don’t know, I didn’t use my word document for this one lol

You wished you didn’t agree to go to this bachelorette party. You weren’t even in the wedding party but your friend who was a bridesmaid begged you to come because she couldn’t stand the maid of honor. Most Saturday nights you spent lounging on your couch with your cats, and a book on your lap. You felt like a grandma, but you were trying to be a good friend. The bride was in her early twenties, the rest of the party were in their mid twenties. You and your friend were the only ones who were thirty.

You really hated staying out late. It was almost 11 o’clock, you were sitting alone at the bar in the casino of the hotel you had to book. The bridal party wanted to head out to the next town to a bar that closed at 2am, that’s where you draw the line, you’d rather get drunk by yourself and then drag yourself to your hotel room. You were on your second tequila sunrise, which is a lot for you, playing candy crush on your phone, feeling eyes on you from drunk men who would walk by, preying on you. You could never take a compliment but you were pleased with how you looked tonight. A lightweight black mid sleeve dress adorned your curvy figure, went down to your ankles and had two slits up both sides of your legs. The bodice had a cut out diamond shape, exposing some of your sternum below your breasts. You didn’t wear a bra, the tie front of the bodice supported the girls delicately. You had finished your drink, and one magically appears in front of you.

You glance up at the bartender through your eyelashes. “I didn’t order that.” You say kindly.

“No, but the gentleman across the way did.” She tells you with a smirk and you glance behind her. Your breath hitches and butterflies fill your stomach; the most beautiful brown eyes stare back at you, smiling sweetly at you, holding up his glass as a hello. You have to close your mouth, you couldn’t believe someone as handsome as him had bought you a drink, and you couldn’t shake how familiar he looked to you. You clear your throat, digging through your wallet for a ten dollar bill, you hold it up, giving him a questioning, awkward smile. Casino drinks were way too over priced unless you were gambling. He laughs, and your nerves come back as he gets up from his seat and walks around the bar towards you. You rub your sweaty palms on your knees, your leg begins to bop uncontrollably as you feel his presence stand next to you.

You don’t look at him right away, but after giving yourself a little pep talk, remembering what your grandma said about men, you look up at him with a smile.

“I don’t want your money, love.” He’s English, his voice is nice, soft with a bit of a rasp. You realize you’re staring and laugh awkwardly, looking away and he smiles back at you, his cheeks dimpling.

“These drinks are way too overpriced.” You say quietly. “Please, take it.”

You move the bill towards him but he places his hand over yours, crumpling the bills under your hand and gently moves it away. You sigh, shaking your head, placing the money back in your wallet. “Okay, if you can afford it.”

“I can…I suppose.” He laughs softly.

You meet his eyes again, you were definitely a little drunk because you still couldn’t place why he was so familiar to you.

“May I sit?” He asks you and you nod. He slides on the bar stool next to you, his knee grazes yours slightly and you swear you can feel a current shoot down to your lower belly.

“Why did you buy me a drink?” You ask, a blush rising to your cheeks. “I mean, I look pretty pathetic, sitting alone at a bar while her friends are off galavanting somewhere else.”

He grins, perfect teeth. “I think you look pretty beautiful.”

You swallow a nervous laugh. “Oh.”

He cringes and chuckles. “I know, that was lame. I’m sorry.”

“Not lame, I just don’t know how to take a compliment.” You laugh, taking a swig off the drink. “It’s also my choice to sit alone at a bar. I didn’t feel like staying out til two a.m.”

“Ooof. Let me guess, bachelorette party?” He sips his own drink, leaning his head on his palm as he looks at you. You nod, taking another swig. “You seem nervous.”

“Nah.” You laugh a little too loudly and he stifles a giggle. “I’m just…I’m not used to…this. I mean…you’re just…I could just be drunk but, you’re insanely handsome.”

He rolls his eyes. “Oh stop.”

“You can’t take a compliment either!” You laugh, nudging his shoulder. You were loosening up, and part of you thinks it’s his calm energy, and obviously mixed with the alcohol.

Realizing you had knocked back your entire drink, you do the logical thing and order another one. The two of you got to talking, mostly about favorites, why he was there alone, if he gambled and if he had a favorite late night snack. He said his name was Joseph, or Joe. You had turned your body closer to his, the slit of your dress had fell down just the right way so your leg was exposed. You caught him subtly glancing that direction, a blush creeping up on his cheeks when he realized you saw him looking. You clear your throat, glancing at the time on your phone. It was after midnight.

Call it a night and get his number.

Invite him upstairs.

Listen to your grandma.

Invite him upstairs.

“Do you like scrabble?” You ask him, smiling at the silliness of the question.

“Like the game? Yeah…why?” He laughs.

“I have travel scrabble in my room and free alcohol. Whoever loses has to order dominoes.” You grin, your head was foggy but you weren’t that drunk where you couldn’t make consensual decisions.

“Okay, shouldn’t take long for me to win.” He winks at you and you roll your eyes. You both pay your respective tabs and exit the casino, the two of you walk towards the elevator but you stop, leaning on his shoulder for support, unbuckling your heels and sighing with relief before stepping in the elevator. “I don’t know how you ladies do it with the heels.” He laughs.

“Worst. Nightmare.” You groan, tossing the heels into a nearby trash can. He raises his eyebrows and smirks, you catch his look and laugh. “$3 at savers. I have other shoes.”

“Just checking.” He giggles, letting you on the elevator first. You press the button to the 14th floor and he lets out a laugh.

“Your hotel is on the 14th floor? What do you know, so is mine.”

You give him a mock shock face. “Must’ve been fate!” Yeah, you were drunk.

“Oh shush.” He laughs, shaking his head. You had moved yourself closer to him by accident, you were beginning to sway, but he didn’t seem to mind when your hand lightly touches his and he places his hand gently on your lower back as the elevator doors open. You fumble with your purse, trying to find the keycard, weeble wobbling your way towards your room. You see the number for 1457 and hover at the door.

“Well, this just got even more interesting.” You look up at him curiously and he point to the room across the hall. ���That’s my room.”

“No it’s not.” You say, genuinely shocked this time. He gives you a smile, taking his keycard out of his pocket, going up to the door and sliding it in the slot. It lights up green and he opens the door like he just did a magic trick.

“I think you’re stalking me.” You say, finally finding the keycard and sliding it in the door. You push open the door, turning on the lights and tossing your purse on floor. He follows you in, shutting the door and locking it behind you.

“I believe, darling. That you’re the one stalking me.” He grins, his body very close to yours you could feel the heat radiating off of him. His hand reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and you shudder.

“Scravel. Trabble. Oh my god. TRAVEL SCRABBLE.” You cackle and quickly move away from him, you didn’t know why, he was definitely about to kiss you. You could feel his eyes on you as you dig through your luggage to find the game, you look up at him and suddenly feel shy. “What?”

“Nothing.” He smiles, leaning against the wall. “You’re just adorable to look at.”

Heat rises to your cheeks, and you bite your lower lip, going back to searching for the game. He takes the bottle of red wine on the table and pours it into two plastic cups. You laugh when he hands it to you after finding the game.

“Classy.” You grin and clink your cup against his. You both sip the wine and you jump onto the bed, opening scrabble and sitting criss cross apple sauce. He sits across from you, placing the cup on the nightstand next to the phone.

You hand him his letters and the two of you sit silently as you move around the tiles.

Que.

Quest.

Tech.

He makes a word that is just jumbled letters.

“That’s not a word.” You tell him.

“It so is a word!” He laughs.

“LEK is not a word!”

“Google it.” He smirks coyly at you.

You narrow your eyes at him and open your phone, you let out a laugh. “LEK is a basic monetary unit of Albania?! There’s no way you knew that!”

“Are you upset with me for knowing unknown words?” He leans towards you, smiling. “I mean, I can order us the pizza.”

Your breath hitches, he’s so close to you, your knees are almost touching. Your eyes dart from his lips to his eyes, your heart was racing. In one swift arm motion, you launch scrabble off the bed, taking him by his shoulders and wrapping your legs around his middle.

“Fuck the pizza.” You say, before crashing your lips against his. His arms are strong as they wrap around your waist and you straddle him. His hand moves up your leg, to your thigh, gripping the muscle as he moves his way on top of you, his tongue sliding delicately in your mouth. You grip his hair in your fist, he moans softly against your mouth, your hands pull his dress shirt out of his pants and glide up his smooth back. He pulls away from your lips, kissing your neck softly, in between your covered breasts. Your eyes flutter close when you feel him slide down towards your waist and he scoots back on his stomach, massaging your calves. You lean up on your elbows, and watch as he moves the slit of your dress to the side. He leans forward but you stop him with the base of your foot against his forehead and he laughs.

“I don’t normally do something like this.” You tell him, swallowing hard.

He gently moves your foot away, resting it on his shoulder. “I don’t either.” He gently kisses your calf. “We don’t have to…”

“No, no…I want to.” You smile shyly. “I just don’t want you to think I’m the kind of woman that will…”

He moves back up to you, your leg going with him, draping over his shoulder. He cups your face, runs his thumb along your lips. “I don’t think you’re that kind of woman.”

You smile, lifting your face up to kiss him gently. He smiles into your kiss, sliding his way back down in between your legs. Your heart races, feeling him pulling you towards him by your thighs, your knees bend and your head falls back against the pillow as he leaves soft kisses on your inner thighs. You feel his fingers dance gently along the straps of your underwear and you lifts your hips as he pulls them off slowly. He looks up at you through his eyelashes and grins. He looked so sexy. You could honestly come by just his look alone.

“You are very, very beautiful.” He says softly, and his face disappears. You gasp softly when you feel his lips kiss close to your sex, and your back immediately arches when his lips wrap around your clit and he sucks. You grip the blanket beneath you, a moan escaping your lungs.

“Ohhh…” You moan loudly, your hands fists his hair as he swirls his tongue in circles, licking you delicately and kneading at your thighs. You could already feel your orgasm building, but this was just…too fucking good. You didn’t want it to stop. You bite your bottom lip, your tummy muscles clench as your orgasm screams out of you and your back arches. He continues to eat you up, burying his face deeper as you continue to come.

He lifts his face, wiping his lips and smiles, you catch your breath, leaning up to catch his lips. You tasted yourself, and that made you crave him more. He holds your face with his soft hands and you move on top of him, ripping the buttons of his shirt open. He groans softly as you pull away from his lips and kiss his chest, moving your tongue in long stripes across his torso and move your lips down to his hips. You unzip his pants, kissing him gently on the sensitive skin on his pelvis and he shivers, letting out a soft gasp. Your eyes widen as you expose him, questioning whether or not you could fit this in your mouth. You kiss the tip gently and he moans, letting out a laugh of pleasure as you take him entirely into your mouth. He pulls gently at your hair as you swirl your tongue around the head, moving your fist up and down. His head hangs over the bed as he breathes heavily, you watch his chest rise and fall.

He gasps. “I want…I want to feel you.” You lift up your head and he sits up, taking your face, kissing your swollen lips. You shiver, more butterflies settling in your tummy and he watches as you lift your dress above your head. You instinctively shield yourself and he stands up, smiling at you, taking off the rest of his clothes. His hands gently go to your arms and he rubs his palms against your soft skin. You blush as he pulls your arms away from your chest, his eyes scan your body and he meets your gaze. He gives you another sweet smile, leaning forward to kiss you gently, you wrap your arms around his shoulders to deepen the kiss and he kneads at your waist. He cups your ass, lifting you up to the picture wjndow ledge and he stands between your legs. You pull away from his mouth, smiling shyly.

“Condom?” You ask him. He smiles, nodding and going into his jacket pocket. You laugh almost.

“What?” He chuckles as he places the rubber over his erection. “I’m a gentleman. I’m never gonna assume.”

Your heart does a pitter patter, you swear you could see yourself falling in love with this man. He cups your cheek, kissing you deeply and you open your legs wider for him. He hooks your leg around his waist and stares into your eyes. He slowly slides into you and you gasp, your head falling back against the window with a thud. He lets out a sharp breath, gripping your thighs as he pushes himself deeper. He kisses your neck, thrusting into you faster and his lips catch your hardened nipple in his mouth.

“Mmmm…ohhhh…fuuuck…” You’re surprised at your own sounds, how insanely pornographic they sound and you moan even louder when he grunts loudly.

You pull his face towards yours, biting his lower lip and he holds onto the window for support, rocking his hips faster and faster. You whimper and he picks you up, still inside you and kissing you passionately as you both collapse on the bed. You place your leg on his shoulder and he kisses your calf, holding your leg to him as he moves, his other hand reaching to cup your breasts. You place your own hands through your hair, grazing up your body, the pleasure you were getting from him was making you see colors. His moves become a little ragged, and you can tell he’s getting close.

“Kiss me.” You moan, another orgasm building fast. He does as he is told, slipping his tongue in your mouth, thrusting harder and deeper. Your nails claw at his back, and he grunts loudly as you clench around his cock, screaming so loud you’re positive the whole building heard you. He comes hard seconds after you, his moans full of raw, raspy intensity. You hold him close to you, caressing his damp hair as you catch your breath. He lifts his face up to look at you and kisses you softly. You smile against his lips and he gently pulls out of you. He sighs, resting his head on your chest.

“I don’t mean to put a damper on this wonderful night…but I really have to pee.” You laugh and he chuckles against your chest, moving off of you. You hop off the bed, grabbing a pair of shorts and a t shirt from your luggage and rush into the bathroom, after doing your business you tidy yourself up and brush your teeth. When you exit the bathroom, Joseph is sitting with his ankles crossed in a t-shirt and sweatpants. You had forgotten his room was across the hall.

He smiles sweetly at you and you smile back, crawling next to him in the bed. He cradles you against his chest, gently running his fingers through your hair.

“Question game?” He says with a laugh and you nod.

“Okay, where did you grow up?”

You suddenly felt a pit in your stomach. Talking about home opened wounds that were still healing, but you answer him anyway. “Massachusetts.”

“With parents and siblings?” His finger dances gently around your shoulder.

“No siblings, just my parents.” You sigh. “Only child.”

“Me too.” He chuckles. “Where are your parents now?”

Fuck. Here comes the most awkward interaction in the world. He feels you tense up but doesn’t say anything. “…you don’t have to answer that, love. I’m sorry if it’s a touchy subject.”

“No.” You laugh awkwardly. “It’s not, it’s just…what I’m about to tell you usually makes people feel uncomfortable and word vomit which makes me want to crawl into a hole, but I don’t think you’re that kind of person.”

You feel his eyes on you and you glance up at him, he was really listening to you. “My dad lives in a one bedroom apartment with his dog Felix in Boston. And…my mom…she died when I was seventeen.” His hold on you tightens and he gently caresses your face, moving his face closer to yours to stare into your eyes.

“Tell me about her.” He says softly and tears immediately spring to your eyes. You have never had someone say that to you, not even your loved ones, let alone a stranger.

So, you tell him. You tell him how she was the funniest woman on planet earth. How she could quote some memorable movies using their voices and would go out of her way to make a person laugh. How much she loved you. How angry you were when she died. How you hope to never scream like that again in your life. How sometimes you wish you could go back, and take her place.

You feel his lips on your cheeks, kissing your tears away, you didn’t even realize you had been crying.

“Oh my god, I’m sorry, this is embarrassing.” You laugh, wiping your face.

“Don’t ever apologize for talking about an important person like her. She sounds like a lovely woman.” He rubs your cheeks. “She made one hell of a daughter.”

You laugh softly, pressing your forehead against his. “How is it possible I meet a perfect stranger at a casino and I still have no idea who you are?”

He laughs and sighs. “Well…do you know Metallica?” He almost blushes and you stare into his eyes, confusion on your face.

Then you realize.

Holy.

Fucking.

Shit.

Holy. Shit.

You gasp loudly, launching yourself back from him, your body falling off the bed as he tries to grab you and you land on your back. You let out a laugh.

“Are you telling me…no, no, no, hold on. Hold on.” You meet his eyes and he’s stifling a laugh but also looks horrified. “Joseph…Joseph…Quinn? Who played Eddie Munson? Are you…me? Me?!”

You lean up on the edge of the bed, staring straight into his eyes, he looks like a lost puppy and your heart skips a beat. “If you want me to leave, I will leave. I know it’s a lot; I do, but…I felt something as soon as I looked into your eyes. I can’t explain it…but I understand if you don’t want me here.”

You stare at him, leaning closer to him, your hands grab his face. You gently run your hands over his cheeks, his lips, studying him more. “No…I want you to stay.”

He lets out a sigh. “Really?”

You smile largely. “Right now, you’re just the handsome man who bought me a drink at a bar, who made me laugh and listened to me talk about the worst day of my life. You left no hints, you were just you. Just for tonight, and forever, that’s who you are to me. Just Joseph.”

He smiles, grabbing your hand, his cheeks dimpling, and you kiss him.

Boy, do you kiss him.

Fin.

[dejwrld]

⤷‧₊˚  extra credit comes with a price when it involves professor ackerman. 

┊ •° ੈ ⋆° ┊ warning readers discretion is advised — female reader, female anatomy described, reader is black coded, grad student!reader, professor!levi, age gap (reader in late twenties while levi in thirties), praise kink, degradation kink, corruption kink, oral (character receiving), reader gives levi a mouth hug lol, dom!levi, told in 2nd pov, levi is 6'1 in my head and in this fic (he was made short because they didn't want him to outdo eren's face card), mdni

a repost from my old account.

The top of your black pen grazed over your lip as you stared at your current grade. Graduation was just around the corner, it was practically in the palm of your hand. But here it was sliding through your palm bit by bit as you watch your grade descend lower and lower for your physics course. You only blamed yourself. Registering for classes later than usual and was stuck with the professors that had a horrible rating on ratemyprofessor.com.

Your eyes never twitched in annoyance before reading the reviews and rating on Professor Ackerman’s. To rants about how hard his tests were, his harsh grading, and even locking the lecture hall door so late people couldn’t come in disturbing his teaching. You felt frustrated that this one course seemed to be the one to decide if you’ll be walking across the stage in a couple weeks. So, you sucked in your pride and decided to ask for the one thing Professor Ackerman wrote in bold letters on his syllabus that he does not give out.

Extra Credit.

Perhaps, you were wishing the worst as you sat in the library. Your pretty smooth thighs adjust in the seat to prevent the nervous squirming waiting for a reply. Your teeth were grazing at your lower lip as your fingers kept clicking to refresh your emails. When you saw the email, your mouth gaped open seeing that he approved giving you extra credit. You were mentally doing a happy dance as you concluded that this would be another semester of you being on the Dean’s List after Professor Ackerman’s extra credit.

You promptly responded that you’ll stop at his office before you leave campus to go home. Which you quickly got a response from Professor Ackerman. Your eyes scanned over the harsh email of him demanding you to come receive the work now because he refused to wait for a student that came to him demanding help. You let out an annoyed sigh and questioned how could such a harsh man still be a professor at your university. You packed up your stuff quickly and made your way to his office. As you were leaving, you nearly knocked down Historia and Ymir.

“I’m sorry you guys, gotta meet with Professor Ackerman.

,” You briefly said as you went to leave.

“Professor Ackerman? Gosh, the last person, who went to his office hours they dropped the class.” Historia mentioned. She toyed with the ends of her cream sweater.

“Yeah, I even heard they left his office crying,” Ymir even adds.

“Thank you guys, for making me nervous about picking up extra credit work,” You admitted as you watched them disappear into the library.

When you reached his office, you felt so nervous. Your hands shook just a little as your mind was racing with so many thoughts. You hoped you didn’t stumble on your own words as you accept the extra work. You had to walk in there with your head held high and thank him for even giving you the opportunity to get your grade up. However, when your body slid into his office majority of your thoughts went out the window and your brain grew fuzzy.

It wasn’t any secret that Professor Ackerman was drop-dead gorgeous. He aged like a fresh bottle of wine imported from Italy. Many students and faculty whispered among each other about him. Wondering if he had a lover at home or if he even socialize at all. He was a huge mystery.

“Professor Ackerman, I am here to collect the extra credit work you mentioned in your email,” You say.

Your fingers toyed with the ends of your skirt as your eyes were peering at him while he was grading papers. His eyes never bothered to look up at you, “Just sit down and give me a minute.” He uttered in annoyance.

You did what you were told, occupying the brown leather seat that sat in the corner of his nicely decorated office. Professor Ackerman let out a sigh of frustration, “Not there. Right here.” His hand that wasn’t holding the red ink ball pen motioned to the seat in front of his desk.

You quickly stood up going to the seat that was in front of his desk. He went back to grading the work on his desk as your curious eyes once again scanned his office. From the ancient artifacts that were decorating the shelves, the number of books he had, and even the one picture of him smiling with a group of friends. Which actually took you by shock even seeing him smiling at all.

“You know, I don’t really give out extra credit.” Professor Ackerman said as he finally placed his pen down to look at him.

His intimidating stare caused you to shift yourself in the seat you were sitting in. Your fingers toying with each other as you were searching for words to say. You were wondering how could you be so confident answering and refuting him in class, but now that the two of you were alone you were a flustered mess.

“Which I appreciate you for even offering it to me.” You answered truthfully.

You only gained a hum in response before he was back grading papers. “Do you know why I’m giving you extra credit (Y/N)?”

“I’m an excellent student in your class.” You answered truthfully. After all, last time you checked you did have the highest grade in his course.

“If you were so excellent, you wouldn’t be here for the extra credit.” He shot down your comment and that felt like a dagger pierced at your heart.

“Well then, I don’t know.” You shrugged your shoulders.

He placed the pen down once again just for him to look at you. Once again it felt like you were in the hot seat. He leaned back into his huge leather chair, “You have a pretty mouth.” He bluntly admitted.

His comment caused you to be so confused. But that was until he urged you on your knees right in front of him behind his large desk.

Your mind was racing with so many thoughts as you looked up at him through your eyelashes. The look of innocence painted your face as your hand rubbed at his clothed bulge through the charcoal grey-colored slacks he wore. A low chuckle escaped his lips as he was rolling up the sleeves of the white button-up he wore. When his sleeves were rolled up to his liking, he stared down at you. As if you were below him.

“Open your mouth.” He demanded.

You did what you were told. Opening your mouth open to show him your exposed tongue waiting for his next command.

The pad of his index and middle finger pressed against the flat of your tongue. Your eyes began to water as his slick digits only pushed further causing a pornographic gag to escape from the back of your throat. Professor Ackerman’s lips curled into a smirk as he removed his fingers, a string of saliva followed along with his digits as he went to unbutton his pants.

“Pretty smart girls like you deserve extra credit don’t you think?” Professor Ackerman questioned. His fingers toyed with the band of his Calvin Klein briefs now this his slacks were hanging loosely around his waist. “Answer me (Y/N).” He says as his thumb traced alongside your lower lip.

“Yes Professor Ackerman. A pretty smart girl like me deserves the extra credit.” You babbled.

“Mhm, I think so also. But my extra credit always comes with a price.” Professor Ackerman hummed as he tugged his cock out of his briefs. His member springing out with perfection and the only thing you could do was watch.

Your eyes lit up with eagerness and your mouth watering at the sight of his pretty cock. He kept it nicely shaved all the way down to his balls. The head of his cock was a flawless pink shade and it was shaped perfectly. You couldn’t stop thinking about the possibility of his tip rubbing at your wet folds teasingly before sinking himself in you fully. But you knew that wasn’t going to happen. The way your knees were on the wooden floor as you waited for another command like a perfectly trained pet, Professor Ackerman wasn’t going to give you the satisfaction of feeling his cock inside you.

His hand grabbed a hold of his cock as he tapped at your lip gloss-covered lips. A devious smirk paced on his face before he was speaking once again, “Suck it really well and the extra credit is all yours (Y/N).” He cooed.

Your heart was pounding against your chest as his precum smeared against your lips. You perched yourself on your knees to get comfortable before leaning forward to attack. Your pretty lips wrap around the head of Profesor Levi’s cock tasting the saltiness of his precum. A low hiss escaped the professor’s lips as you could feel him shutter against your touch. Your hands then went up to massage his shaft while your tongue licked up and down the base of his cock. Saliva beginning to coat your hands as your head was bobbing up and down on Professor Ackerman’s cock.

The lewd sound of sucking echoed within Professor Ackerman’s office as you were going down on him. His fingers ran through his jet-black-colored hair as he was turning into a moaning mess before you. His face turned as red as a tomato with each stroke you did with your hands while your lips smothered his tip. Despite being on your knees and only touching the older man with your mouth, you could feel the amount of heat was radiating off his body. Which you knew he was only growing hot with each second when he was unbuttoning his shirt to toss it across his office.

He looked down at you with such a flustered look, it caused you to smirk as you were stroking him off trying to catch your breath. When he saw your smirk, he would return one right back at you But his was very more sinful. “Smart girls don’t use their hands. Stop using your hands.” He demanded.

As your hands that were covered in your own saliva dropped to your side, your eyes begin to water as you felt Professor Ackerman’s hips push forward. The pornographic gagging sound followed by more saliva coating his cock caused him to move even faster. Your tears begin to burn your eyes with each harsh thrust towards your face. Your saliva was dripping out your mouth like a dog and your tears were staining your cheeks testing out your waterproof makeup. Professor Ackerman’s right hand grasped at the back of your head before he’s pushing your head forward. His cock disappeared into your mouth bit by bit as you gagged aggressively. Your gagging sent vibrations around his cock causing Professor Ackerman to utter out a string of profanity words. The tip of your nose pressed against this happy trail with ease as your hand grasped at his toned thighs. Your fingernails dug into the skin of his thighs as he held your head down while his cock rested in the pit of your throat.

When he let go of your head, your head bounced back like a yo-yo. Your chest rose up and down as you were trying to catch your breath. A thick string of saliva connected from your pretty mouth to Professor Ackerman’s cock. Your hand wiped at your tears that were clouding your vision and you could feel your lace panties grow wet at the action that just happened. Professor Ackerman made you choke on his cock and you instantly grew soaked. Who would have thought?

“We’re not done yet doll,” Professor Ackerman uttered as he’s grabbing a hold of your head once more. Guiding you to suck once again, but this time he had both of his hands on the back of your head guiding your movements. “Such a pretty smart girl that can suck my cock so well.” He complimented.

“You look so stunning wrapped around me like this.” He praised through subtle grunts.

Your tongue swirled around his tip and that seemed to push the professor further off the edge.

“Keep doing that and I may cum right in that pretty mouth of yours.” He added.

As you kept sucking at his cock, your hand reached down to rub your wet folds through your panties. Professor Ackerman chuckled at your poor excuse of desperation. “Want me to touch you huh?”

With his cock in your mouth like a flavored popsicle, you would nod with enthusiasm. You needed him to touch you. You craved for his fingers to be the one rubbing at your puffy lips. But through your glossy wet eyes, you were met with Professor Ackerman’s cruel smile. He wasn’t going to give you what you wanted. Instead, you watched as he swooshed around his own spit in his mouth before letting the huge droplet of saliva travel down to his cock that still was in your mouth. His own spit landed on the shaft of his cock that wasn’t buried deep inside your mouth.

“Now use your hands if you want that extra credit (Y/N).” Professor Ackerman urged.

With eagerness, your hand clasped around his shaft and you begin to massage it at a rhythmic pace. Using his own saliva as lube while you sucked at his tip and massaged his shaft. Once in a while, your tongue dragged alongside the one vein that occupied the back of his cock before cupping at his ballsack.

“Fuck, that feels good.” He cursed. “I’m going to cum.”

As if that flipped a switch inside you, your mouth latched onto his ballsack while your hand massaged his shaft. Sucking fiercely enough to gain whimpers and groans from Professor Ackerman as his body began to shutter. You released yourself from his heavy balls with a pop before your went back to massaging his dick, your thumb pressing against his swollen tip once in a while.

“Please (Y/N)—”

“Please what Professor Ackerman,” You cooed while you kissed at his tip once again, your hands still gripping at his cock.

“The extra credit is all yours, just let me cum.” Levi urged as his hips bucked forward just to feel even more friction around his cock.

“I’m not stopping you from cumming Professor Ackerman.” You said as you pumped his cock in your hand. Imagining that perhaps your hand was your tight cunt wrapped around him.

Professor Ackerman uttered a word in German as thick ropes of his cum began to decorate your hand. Your hand slowed down at a steady pace with each pump of the creamy white substance decorated not only your hand but the blouse you were wearing.

Professor Ackerman plopped down on the large leather seat behind his desk as you climbed back off the ground. Your knees were bruised harshly, cum stained your blouse, and your throat still was grasping for recovery due to the way he pushed so aggressively towards you. You smooth down your skirt before picking up the folder filled with the extra credit worksheets. Smoothly letting them drop into your bag and going to make a quick exit. Frankly, you didn’t want to get caught by another student or even a faculty member. Your hand went to unlock the door, but you heard Professor Ackerman’s voice stop you.

“Are you stupid? Are you that much of a nuisance that you’ll go out like that?” Professor Ackerman said, he stood up shuffling to the small brown chest in the corner of his office. His nicely tailored dress pants hung loosely around his waist as went through it.

When he stood back up, he had a crewneck sweater shirt with the university name on it. However, this one was a bit different from the ones that were currently being sold in the bookstore. This was a vintage one, assuming it was from when Professor Ackerman graduated.

You tugged off your shirt with quickness and stuffed it into your bag and soon tugged on the sweatshirt. It lingered with that familiar cologne he wore. Eros by Versace.

“Please return both the work and my sweatshirt by the end of my office hours tomorrow.” Professor Ackerman bluntly said before he was cleaning up the mess the two of you had made.

“Yes, Professor Ackerman.” You respectfully responded before leaving his office.

The thing you just did for extra credit.

[riverbutghost]

Cold But Warm

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and your lieutenant found a safe cabinet. And once all of the adrenaline left your body, you realized that you got a little wounded, which led to you and your lieutenant to have a conversation.

Warnings: blood, military stuff, strong language, Simon acts like an asshole ‘cause he’s scared… Also, this is so rushed and i don’t like this one but here we go lol

Masterlist ~ check my other fics if you like this <3

Also, please send me requests lol

Russia was cold, as usual. But it was December, and you were wandering around in the Russian forests. It was something else.

“I’m freezing!”

Simon huffed at you. He was starting to get sick of your complaints. He gritted his teeth.

“Stop whining like a fuckin’ child.”

You rolled your eyes. He was a good soldier, he would never complain about his surroundings or anything at all. You admired him sometimes, all the time.

He was one of the best, his tactics were always impressive. His flirting skills were impressive too.

“You had said something about needing time?”

His steps faltered for a second. He returned being cold and dismissive in a second as well.

“I don’t remember.”

“Back at the base, like three days ago or something.“

He shrugged. You were starting to get annoyed at him for not giving a fuck. He was always like this.

“Can you slow down for a second? Jesus…”

You gripped his arm hard enough to make him falter. He turned around, took three steps towards you in an angry way. You stepped back at the same time as he took a step towards you.

Your feet slipped and all of a sudden you were on the ground. You groaned at the pain in your butt. He hovered over you menacingly. His eyes weren’t the soft ones you knew. There was something there, an anger.

“I said I don’t fuckin’ remember. Can’t you just shut that stupid mouth of yours for a second? I’m trying to hear something for fuck’s sake!”

You narrowed your eyes at his tone and anger. You wished you had teamed up with Soap instead, but Price wouldn’t let you anyway.

You couldn’t help but feel a little hurt at his sudden change in behavior towards you.

What could have happened in a week for him to change?

“Get up sergeant.”

He turned around, started stepping away from your flinched form. You wondered why he was that angry. Surely, the comms weren’t working because of the weather. But there had to be something else. Something you couldn’t get your finger on.

You got up, took quick steps towards him. His posture was sharp, ready for anything. You averted your eyes from him after checking him out.

“Focus,” You mumbled to yourself, for thinking about him, your superior, that way. What were you, a high school student?

He was a distraction.

-

“S- Ghost?”

You waited for his reply as you breathed a long sigh, the journey was clearly exhausting. And you found nothing, not a single rock because of the snow. It was hard.

You were sweating one second, then feeling cold. Your vest was useless for this weather. You just hoped you wouldn’t freeze.

“Someone’s here.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. You couldn’t see anything.

“Wha-“

Simon pushed you out of the way at the same time the shots started coming. You coughed a little then rolled over to your side, your gun ready to shoot anything. You looked down, gasped at how close you were to the cliff. It wasn’t that deep, but still.

Simon was behind a tree, you were laying on the ground. He was a few feet away from you, shooting at anything and everything. You watched him shooting, at the same time trying to make sure you were okay while talking to his comm. He was a multitasker. For sure.

You got up quickly, a slight pain tugging at your lower abdomen. You brushed it off, your heart pounding with nervousness. You crouched.

You quickly hid yourself behind a tree next to Simon.

“Where did they come from?!” You yelled over the noise.

Simon grunted. He wasn’t panicking like you do, again proving that he was always a good soldier.

“I don’t fucking know.”

You didn’t question anything further than that, he was clearly pissed.

“Fuck- Fuck!”

Simon yelled and threw his gun at the ground, getting a pistol from his holster. Your stomach filled with proud for your teammate Soap, for giving him an extra pistol. You were going to kiss him on his cheeks when you were out of there. If you could.

“We have to move.”

You gulped down your nerves. How could you move in this situation?

“How?”

He turned around, looked at you while reloading his pistol. He tilted his head towards the cliff.

“We’re gonna jump.”

“What?!”

Simon turned again, one hand moving to his throwing knife. He threw the knife right into the enemy’s neck. You reloaded your gun, only to realize there wasn’t any ammo left.

“Fuck! I’m out.”

You panicked, it was a shitty time for you to be out of ammo. You didn’t even have another gun because you forgot. Yeah you fucking forgot.

“Jump! I’ll cover you.”

You looked at him worriedly. It was all happening so fast, and you couldn’t comprehend anything. You were going to die.

“It’s just water, sergeant. I’ll find you.”

You jumped after looking at him with determined eyes. He visibly swallowed.

You couldn’t help but feel scared while falling down to the water. It wasn’t something you liked, God it was the worst thing ever. Your body made contact with the freezing water, and you couldn’t help but get lost in your memories from your past.

The torture, the abuse, the training..

You felt your eyes close, falling and falling in the deepest parts of the water.

-

Simon wasn’t kidding when he had told you he would find you. He was indeed, searching for you.

When he had finished killing them all, he jumped of the cliff because he couldn’t spot you from up there.

He searched through the freezing water, even though his mind was trying so hard not to shut down from the cold.

He spotted you eventually, you were laying down on the snow a few feet away from the water. He rushed towards you, hands immediately gripping your vest and pulling it off. He lowered himself down a little, tried to hear your breathing. You were, to his surprise, breathing slowly. Though your shaking was not normal.

He scooped you up, carrying you safely to the cabin he had found while looking for you.

He kicked the door open with his feet, then pushed it again after entering. He put you down on the soft mattress, which seemed clean enough.

He then started working on the fireplace, trying to make something warm for you.

“Hey,”

He sighed at your soft voice, shaky from the cold. He sighed again after hearing the fire’s cracking noise. He got up and turned around, looking at your shaking form.

“Strip.”

Your breath hitched, your mind going to the past. He realized the mistake he made, and cleared his throat.

“I’ll give you a sheet that I’ve found. Now, strip. Don’t want you to have hypothermia or some shit like that.”

You nodded, still looking at him. His eyes moved from your hair to your face, to your body and you shook.

“Get out?”

Simon cursed himself for a moment, then left the room. He thought about the decision he had made, to stop talking to you unless it’s necessary. It made everything easier, he thought. But no, it didn’t. He was rude to everyone except you, until now. He was rude to you too, to keep you from being a liability to him.

“Uh, Simon ?”

He composed himself, then left the little kitchen. He looked at you, your face a little pale. He hummed, tilting his head a little.

“I think I got shot.”

His face turned serious as you could tell from the mask, he took rushed steps toward you. You were holding the sheet to your body, still shaking from the cold but not as much.

“Let me look,”

A wave of insecurity washed over you. You were totally naked, and he was asking to see your body? Hell no.

“Uhm, let me-“

Simon stood up and took a pillow from the couch. He gave it to you.

“I need to see, c’mon now.”

You pulled the sheets away, holding the pillow to your chest. Simon kneeled down, fingers delicately holding your waist. His serious eyes trembled slightly at the sight. You didn’t get shot, the bullet just grazed the side of your chest.

“It’s just a scratch.”

“Yeah, I know.”

He looked up to you.

“Does it hurt?”

You swallowed the intense pressure of being naked in front of him, your lieutenant. Your lieutenant who fucked you so good that you forgot your own name-

“No, just feels uncomfortable.”

He nodded then got up. You frowned a little. Why was he acting like that?

“Simon-“

“Gonna go get some water.”

You gulped again. It was like the first time you had met. He was making you nervous, and you didn’t like it one bit. You wanted him to come closer, cuddle you to him while you stroke his hair. Apparently, he had decided to keep things professional. All of a sudden.

He came back with a washcloth and a bowl of water. You gulped down your nerves.

The washcloth softly touched your side, making you suck in a breath.

“Why are you distant all of a sudden?”

His hand stopped for a second. He looked up to your eyes, then back down. He continued tapping your side softly, even though his eyes hardened a little his touch was still gentle.

“I’m not.”

You scoffed. He gripped the washcloth harder than before, and dipped it in the water again.

“Stop it, Simon. Fuck, it hurts.”

His hand stopped midway through, and looked at you. He thought you meant the scratch for a second.

You didn’t mean to tear up, but there it was. Your eyes blurred, and your lips wobbled a little. Simon gripped the bowl, a little pressure more and the bowl would break.

“Stop it.” He said sternly.

You hiccuped, the soft noise clenching Simon’s heart. His knuckles were white under his gloves. He looked down and up again. You were fully crying now, your hands coming to your face.

“You’re all I have-had.”

Tear after tear ran down your cheeks, soft sobs echoing through the little cabin. Simon looked at you, you were slowly crumbling in front of him. He made you feel that way, he crushed you.

Simon put the bowl beside him with shaky hands, then gripped your hands, putting them down. Your eyes found him, softly looking at him.

Simon took the pillow which was hiding your chest and put it down, eyes still looking at you. You didn’t say anything. His hands then found your waist, pulling you to him. You immediately threw your arms around him, resting your head on his shoulder. He stayed still, rubbing his hand up and down on your back. You sobbed on his shoulder.

Simon’s heart was beating extremely fast, he wasn’t sure if it was heart attack. He was scared. He had never felt this scared about someone before. It was tugging at his heart, and the fact that he made you cry didn’t help but worsen the feelings he had.

“Why?”

Your muffled voice came after a few seconds.

“Thought I had to stay away,”

You cried harder at that, hands gripping his shirt. He had taken off his vest, but still the mask was on.

“Don’t- don’t do that please.”

Simon hugged you harder, tighter. He was stupid for sure, to make a decision like that.

“Never felt like that before,” He mumbled, voice groggy. You sniffled.

“Like what?” You asked.

Simon fell silent. He knew what he was feeling, but didn’t want to admit. He was scared, of losing you too. It was all so complicated, and he was tired. Of all this feelings, it was overwhelming for him.

“M’sorry, pretty girl.”

You shivered at his nickname, remembering the last time he had said it. Your head left his shoulder, and you looked at him.

“You’re so stupid.”

You sniffled, an angry expression visible on your face.

“I’know.”

You licked your lips, then looked at him through your eyelashes. Simon tilted his head. Your hands slowly moved to his face, holding the hem of his mask.

He hummed lowly, his chest vibrating. You slowly took his mask off, giving him enough time to intervene.

Your hands roamed over his face, every detail had already been on your head. You kissed his lengthy scar, making him feel alive again. He hummed, the sound vibrating through his chest.

He hummed again and dropped his head to your forehead, mumbling apologies over and over again while kissing your face.

He felt weird, overwhelmed about all of this. He broke his decision in a second just because of you, and he wasn’t regretting it. Not yet anyway.

“Don’t do that again, okay?”

You mumbled, eyes dropping ever so slightly. He hummed, giving one last kiss to your jawline.

“Never, love.”

[heartysworld]

Hope || Azriel × Fem!Reader

A/N: I decided to start posting some of my old ACOTAR fics here since I'm feeling nostalgic. Keep in mind that it's been 2 years since I wrote these, so they might be a bit shabby. I'll try and find time to edit them as best as possible, bit for now enjoy these rough drafts.

Also, tell me if you prefer them in 1st or 2nd POV!

W.C:1.6k

Warnings: childbirth

My entire body was hurting,ankles swollen,back sore and constant headaches. I couldn’t complain thought. That was the price you have to pay in order to create a new life inside of you.

Azriel and I couldn’t be happier when we found out. Both of us suffered a terrible childhood,and having a loving and stable family was one of the things we dreamed of the most.

Fae children are rare,that’s why when we found out we were expecting we cried and laughed together for hours.

Right now I was in the kitchen,preparing a cake for when Az returned from a month long mission. He left when I was in the seventh month and I have grown a lot since then. It was my birthday today too,so thr only thing I wished for was a big hug from my mate,and for us to have a nice,peaceful evening.

Evevrything was finally finished and so I waited and waited for my husband to return,only to go to bed alone that night with a heavy heart and a tear-stained face. He never came home. I was worried,he would have called out for me through our bond if something important held him,but I had no news from him.

Time skip

The next morning I was awoken from the sound of the front door opening and closing. It was Az, I could feel him. With a heavy sigh I got up,putting all my energy in as my baby bump was quite the big obstacle for me.

Paddling down the stairs I went in the kitchen where the noise was coming from. There stood my husband ,a smile on his face as he looked through the cabinets for something to eat.

‘’You’re finally back !’’- I exclaimed as I gave him a big hug as much as my belly let me.

"I am back, my love. Back to my family. How's our little princess been? She's grown I can tell." - he asked,loving tone in his voice as he put his hands on my lower stomach as our baby kicked.

"Both of us missed you dearly. Seems like she can sense her father is back too." - I smiled, giving him a small kiss.

"I expected you last night, Az. You had me worried. What happened that kept you for so long?" - I asked.

"Elained asked if I could visit her, when it was time to leave  it was already late so she offered me to sleep over and come back in the morning." - he explained, a smile still on his face.

My face faltered.

"You... You went to see Elain?" - I asked again, needing to hear that sentence one more time.

"Yeah, that's what I said." - he replied.

In this moment nothing but fury resided in my body. He left me alone on my birthday to go meet with another woman!

"You left me here alone last night so you can go see Elain!" - I shouted, making Azriel jump.

"Hey, calm down. I don't see a problem, love. I'm here now am I not." - he replied, trying to take my hands in his, but I shoved him away.

"Why are you mad Y/N. Elain is my friend, I have the right to see her." - he said.

"And I'm your wife! The woman pregnant with your child! And instead of coming home to us you went to another woman!" - I screamed now.

"You being my wife doesn't mean I can't visit my friends, Y/N. If you're jealous just say it. Don't act like a child." - he raised his voice.

"I have nothing against you meeting your friends, but not friends who you have a romantic past with. Ever since I got pregnant you have been away more time than you've been home. I'm staring to feel like you're not ready to become a father. In case you've forgotten it was my birthday yesterday. That's why I expected you to come back-you promised. "-I said, my voice was starting to crack as my hormones took their turns.

" Y/N... "-started Az. His voice was laced with pain and regred.

" There's food in the bottom left cabinet if you're hungry. I'm going to bed. You can do whatever you want, go give the cake to Elain if you wish. I don't care." - I murmured as I waddled up the stairs as tears started going down my cheeks.

A few minutes later I heard the front door open and close, indicating that Azriel left. He actually left. That was the last straw as more tears appeared and I crumbled down on our bed, crying.

As if once again being able to feel my pain, my baby started kicking energetically.

"Calm down, my love. Daddy loves you. I hope he will never abandon us, or at least he will never abandon you."-I said quietly as I patted my belly.

I have fallen asleep when I was awoken late at night by a sharp pain in my lower stomach.

Fear filled me as I got up from the bed and headed towards the bathroom.

I took off my underwear only to see a big spot of blood on it and more streaming down my legs.

"Azriel... Azriel please if you can hear me, something's wrong with our baby, there is so much blood. I'm scared. Please come back!"-I sent down for him as I came back to the ned holding my stomach as I cried.

There was no one else I could call for. The only thing I had for communication was my bond with Azriel, and he was Gods know where.

" Please baby, don't leave us so soon. We waited for you for centuries. Don't do this to us." - I cried more as I layed in our bed, pain shedding me into pieces.

I dont know how much time passed, I was barely keeping myself conscious, my breaths slow and shallow. It was then when I felt someone's presence in the room and someone else coming to my side.

"Y/N... hey look at me, love. I'm sorry it took so long to get here, I'm sorry. I brought Madja with me, everything will be alright. Please just hold on." - he said as he caressed my cheek with his rough hand.

"Azriel..." I barely got it out of me "Save our baby, if I don't make it-tell her about me..." I breathed out. "Let her know her mother loved her.... endlessly." - I finished, I was starting to see dark spots when I heard Madja speak.

"The baby's wing tore a part of the inside tissue, that's where the bleeding's from. Aside from that, it is too early for it to be born. The chances of survival are low,but I'm going to give my best." - she said as she got to work.

"Azriel."-I loomed into his beautiful eyes once again. "I'm sorry for screaming at you.... I love you. So much." - I said as I put my hand on his cheek.

"Stay with me,love. It's all my fault. I should've came back as soon as I could, and I shouldn't have left you in the morning. Stay with me, ans we'll see our beautiful girl very soon. You hear me?" - he said as he shook me so I could stay conscious.

Time skip

Hours went as I layed on the same spot in our bed as I pushed and pushed. Madja gave me some kind of tonic to keep me awake and make the pain bareable.

The rest of our friends winnowed in soon after Azriel arrived. Feyre was at my side, guiding me through the process. Azriel went out of the room after lots of convincing from me. He needed a break from the awful scene before him.

I have no idea how much longer it went before I heard a small cry echo in the room as I felt instant relief. My body healed itself hours ago, but our baby was still very small and hard to take out.

Tears streamed down my cheeks as they put her against my chest. She was so small, smaller than normal, but she was here and she was alive.

Both of us fell asleep before seeing Azriel, I was too tired to keep my eyes open, much rest was needed.

I don't know for how long I slept but when I woke up I was greeted by the beautiful sight of my husband holding our daughter, whispering sweet nothing to her as he showered her with kisses.

"Azriel." - I said as his head snapped in my direction. He slowly came to my side, nestling the small child in my hands.

"I am so sorry for what happened yesterday Y/N. I want you to know that I love you much. I never intended to hurt you. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me." - he said, giving my forehead a kiss.

"I'm sorry too, Az. I was tired and on edge. And when you told me where you went I lost it. I hope you can forgive me too." - I said, offering a small smile.

"So... have you thought of any names?" - he asked, looking at our daughter once again.

"Hope, I want to name her Hope. Because she's what will give us power and will to keep going. For her." - I said.

"So Hope be it." - he said as he kissed me again.

We spent the rest of the day enjoying our new addition to our family and thinking about tje bright future that waited for us.

If you're interested in more of my fics let me know!

[anniebeemine]

Count Your Luck- s.r.

a/n: I was thinking about this post for days before I finally sat down to write this. Thank you to @frankiebirds for making the initial post.

warnings: Roommate Spencer, reader insert, slightly illegal activities, mentions of stripping, brief mention of violence, littlest part about a man being creepy

word count: 12.2k words

“This is due at the end of the month?” Spencer asked, his voice tight as he stared at the bill in his hands. The number printed at the bottom was enough to make his heart stop.

The woman behind the counter nodded, her expression softening into one of pity. “Yeah, sugar. By the end of the month.” He could see the sympathy in her eyes, the way she looked at him like he was just a kid in over his head. Because he was.

Spencer swallowed hard, feeling the lump in his throat tighten. He knew she was trying to be kind, but it only made him feel worse. He tried to focus on the task at hand, not on the gnawing realization that he would never be able to scrape together this much money in time. Even if he asked for an extension, it would just push the problem down the road, leaving him trapped in a vicious cycle of bills and deadlines.

He glanced over at the doorway to the common area of the facility, where his mother sat by the window, staring out at the garden. She looked peaceful there, a faint smile playing on her lips as sunlight filtered through the glass. She was safe here, comfortable—at least, as comfortable as she could be, given her condition. Her episodes were fewer and farther between now, the staff attentive and compassionate, but the care she needed came at a steep price.

Spencer’s stomach twisted as he thought about the guilt that had plagued him since the day he’d signed the papers to have her committed. It was the right thing to do—he knew that—but it didn’t make it any easier. His mother needed help he couldn’t give her. The facility was the best option, but it was also the most expensive.

He turned back to the woman at the counter, his voice hoarse. “Is there... any way to lower the cost? Maybe work out a payment plan?”

She shook her head, her pity deepening. “I’m afraid we already have you on the lowest rate we can offer. I wish I had better news for you, sweetheart.”

Spencer nodded, his heart sinking. “I understand,” he said quietly, folding the bill and tucking it into his jacket pocket. “Thank you.”

He stepped outside into the cold winter air, exhaling a shaky breath. His mind raced as he walked, the weight of his responsibilities bearing down on him. He was barely 18, still trying to figure out how to navigate the world on his own, and now this. 

As he made his way to the bus stop, he thought about his own situation. He had just begun his winter semester, juggling an intense class schedule, and he’d recently signed a lease for an apartment with a roommate he’d never even met. They were matched by the apartment manager, both desperate to fill their spaces. He hadn’t even had a chance to settle in yet, let alone get to know the person he’d be living with for the next year.

Spencer wrapped his coat tighter around himself, the wind biting at his skin. The idea of asking his roommate for help crossed his mind, but he dismissed it almost as quickly as it came. They were probably in the same boat, scraping by just to cover rent and tuition. And what would he even say? ‘Hi, I’m Spencer, nice to meet you—by the way, do you have a couple thousand dollars lying around?’

No. This was his burden to bear.

When he arrived at his apartment later that evening, the place was dark and quiet. His new roommate hadn’t moved in yet, and the silence was almost suffocating. He dropped his bag by the door and sank onto the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling. The enormity of everything pressed down on him—the bills, the coursework, his mother’s care, the future stretching out ahead of him, uncertain and terrifying.

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm his racing thoughts. He had to keep it together. There was no other option.

The next day, Spencer dragged his feet to class, exhaustion gnawing at him. The morning sun hadn’t done much to wake him up, and his mind still buzzed from the constant worry. His mother, the bills, his studies—it was all too much. As the professor droned on about advanced quantum mechanics, Spencer tried to focus, but his brain kept slipping back to his mother, her care facility, and the mounting cost of it all.

When class finally let out, he practically ran to his on-campus job in the cafeteria. It wasn’t glamorous, not by a long shot. He worked in the dish room, scrubbing and rinsing plates, silverware, and trays, running them through the industrial sanitizing machine. The smell was stomach-churning, a mix of stale food, wet sponges, and industrial soap. It clung to him no matter how hard he tried to avoid it, but it was money—money he needed desperately.

As he started the sanitizing machine, Spencer did the math in his head. If he worked enough hours, he might be able to pay this month's bills by Christmas. He counted his paycheck before he even received it, trying to figure out how much more he needed to make ends meet. His stomach twisted. Even though he could breeze through most of his homework, he couldn’t take on another job without spreading himself too thin. His body was already showing signs of the strain—exhaustion, hunger, stress-induced headaches.

Leaning against the machine, Spencer felt the weight of everything press down on him. His mind started spiraling, thoughts racing about deadlines and debts, his mother’s well-being, and the pressure of school. It was only when the machine beeped that he snapped back to reality. With a heavy sigh, he pulled the trays from the machine and got back to work.

Later, he rushed to his next class, sliding in two minutes late. His jeans were soaked at the hems from the dish room floor, and his fingers were wrinkled and sore. But he sat down, doing his best to settle in for the lecture. He couldn’t afford to fall behind, no matter how overwhelmed he felt.

By the time he made it back to his apartment that evening, he was dead on his feet. The hallway leading to his door was a maze of plain boxes, stacked haphazardly against the walls. Spencer’s brows furrowed as he carefully weaved through them. Standing in the middle of it all was a woman, her arms wrapped around a small, white dog that shivered and barked at Spencer as he approached.

"Tootsie, hush," the woman muttered, silencing the dog. The air around her smelled of expensive perfume—too strong, especially after a day in the dishroom.

Spencer gave her a tight-lipped smile, feeling out of place, then noticed his apartment door was open. Before he could ask what was going on, a tall man, about his age, stepped out of the doorway, nearly bumping into him.

"Uh, sorry," Spencer said, awkwardly shifting his bag higher on his shoulder. "I’m Spencer. I live here."

The man gave him a once-over before offering a quick nod. "Ricky. I’m just helping my sister move in."

Spencer blinked, confusion flickering across his face. "Your sister?"

Ricky nodded in the direction of the woman with the dog. "Yeah. Y/N. She’s, uh... she's the one moving in."

As if realizing that his sister would be living with another man, Ricky puffed out his chest slightly, standing a little taller, his posture becoming subtly defensive. Spencer didn’t miss the shift, but he also wasn’t sure how to respond. He wasn’t a threat, but Ricky clearly wanted to make sure he knew where things stood.

Y/N approached, flashing a warm smile as she juggled the dog in one arm and extended her hand toward Spencer. "Hi, I’m Y/N. I guess we’re going to be roommates."

Spencer waved, unsure if he should shake her hand while she held the squirming dog. "Nice to meet you."

The interaction was awkward, but Y/N’s friendliness helped ease the tension a little. Spencer glanced back at Ricky, who still looked a bit uneasy. "How are you finding the apartment so far?" he asked, trying to make small talk.

"It’s fine," Ricky replied shortly, still sizing Spencer up. "But, uh, Y/N’s the one living here, not me."

Spencer nodded, feeling the tension ease slightly. "Got it. Well... welcome, I guess."

Y/N grinned, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Thanks. It’s a bit chaotic right now, but I think we’ll settle in soon."

Spencer smiled back, though his mind was already racing with thoughts about the new roommate dynamic, the bills, and how this new chapter was going to unfold.

Spencer excused himself to shower, feeling the weight of exhaustion pulling at him. "I’ll let you guys finish up," he mumbled, giving a small, awkward wave as he stepped past Ricky and Y/N. His feet dragged as he made his way to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him. The soft click of the lock felt like the only solid thing in a day that had otherwise spun wildly out of control.

He leaned against the door for a moment, taking in a deep breath. The tension in his shoulders felt like it had seeped into his bones. The exhaustion from class, work, and now the unexpected change in his living situation pressed down on him. His mind buzzed, running through endless calculations—his budget, the bills, his studies—and now the added complication of a new roommate he hadn’t planned for.

Spencer peeled off his soaked jeans and grimy shirt, tossing them into the laundry bin before heading into the small bathroom. The hot water felt like a temporary escape, but even that couldn’t fully wash away the day. He let the water beat down on his tired muscles, trying to clear his mind, but all he could think about was how much more complicated things had become.

The shower didn’t last long. After dressing in an old pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, Spencer collapsed onto his bed. He thought about picking up one of his textbooks, catching up on some reading, but the thought of focusing on anything academic felt impossible at that moment. His mind was a knot of worry and fatigue.

Lying back against the pillows, he stared up at the ceiling, trying to push the thoughts away. But they persisted, swirling around like a storm he couldn’t escape. Outside his room, he could hear the faint sounds of boxes being moved and hushed conversations between Ricky and Y/N. The light shuffling of cardboard against the floor, the occasional frustrated hiss from Ricky about where things should go, and Y/N’s soothing tone filled the apartment. They weren’t loud, but it was just enough to keep Spencer’s mind awake, hovering on the edge of sleep but never quite tipping over.

He tossed and turned, trying to find a comfortable position, but the unfamiliarity of the sounds and the day’s stress made it impossible. His thoughts jumped from one thing to the next—his mom, the medical bills, his winter semester, and now, this new roommate who came with a brother that seemed more than ready to take on a protective role.

As the night wore on, Spencer couldn’t help but feel like everything was slipping out of his control. He was used to having everything carefully managed, but now, with his mother’s care weighing heavily on him, and the added pressure of keeping up with his studies, this new shift in his living arrangements made him feel like he was teetering on the edge.

Eventually, as the shuffling in the apartment faded and the apartment quieted down, Spencer found himself drifting into a restless sleep. But even then, his dreams were filled with fragmented images of bills piling up, his mother’s vacant stare in the facility, and the growing distance between him and the life he wanted to lead.

Tomorrow, he thought vaguely as sleep finally overtook him. He’d deal with everything tomorrow.

The next morning, Spencer woke to the faint sounds of movement from the living room. When he emerged from his room, still groggy, he found Y/N already up, sitting cross-legged on the floor, sorting through a pile of shirts. Her hair was pulled back, and the soft morning light filtered in through the windows, casting long shadows over the mess of boxes still scattered around.

"Sorry if I was too loud last night," she said without looking up, her voice light but carrying a hint of apology.

Spencer, grabbing a bowl of cereal, shrugged. "It's fine," he replied, offering a small smile she probably didn’t see. The clatter of his spoon against the bowl filled the quiet air as he sat at the small kitchen table, his mind already racing with the day ahead. There were the usual things to stress over—his classes, his job, the bills—never-ending responsibilities that seemed to pile on like the dirty dishes he'd scrubbed the night before. But now, at least half the rent was covered. That thought brought a slight sense of relief. One less thing to worry about, at least for now.

The January weather in Las Vegas was brisk, cooler than most people expected from a desert city. A chill crept in through the windows, and Spencer made a mental note to grab his jacket on the way out. The mornings were deceptively cold this time of year, even if the afternoons warmed up. Y/N hummed quietly to herself as she continued folding clothes, and Spencer, despite his usual social awkwardness, found himself oddly comfortable with the silence that hung between them.

"I'm heading out," he muttered after finishing his cereal, grabbing his backpack and slinging it over his shoulder. Y/N looked up and gave a quick wave as he headed for the door.

"Good luck with your classes," she said, and for a moment, Spencer hesitated, feeling something like gratitude bloom unexpectedly in his chest.

He gave a quick goodbye and left the apartment, stepping into the crisp morning air. The sky was a pale blue, the sun just beginning to rise above the skyline. He hopped on his bike and pedaled toward the science building, the cold wind biting at his face. It was going to be a long day—hours spent in and out of labs, followed by an exam he had to ace if he wanted to keep his GPA where it needed to be.

By the time evening rolled around, Spencer found himself standing at the bus stop, waiting to catch the bus to his second job. His fingers, still slightly wrinkled from handling lab equipment all day, fidgeted as he checked the schedule. The bus to the restaurant was pulling up, but another one—Bus 47, heading directly to the casinos—caught his eye.

He hated the valet job. The tips were terrible, the hours long, and it always felt like he was wasting time when he could be studying or working on something that actually mattered. The idea hit him all at once, and before he could think twice, Spencer made a split-second decision. He ignored his usual bus and boarded the one bound for the strip instead. His heart pounded in his chest as he sat down, clutching the strap of his satchel tightly.

The strip was as garish and glamorous as always, lights flashing and the distant sound of slot machines filling the air. Spencer stepped off the bus, feeling out of place among the well-dressed crowd. People in sleek suits and elegant dresses strolled through the casino floor, sipping on overpriced drinks. He glanced down at himself—jeans, a hoodie, his worn satchel slung over his shoulder—and felt like an outsider.

But he didn’t stop. He kept walking, weaving through the bustling casino, trying to ignore the nagging voice in the back of his mind, the one that kept telling him this was a bad idea.

The sinister thought crept up slowly, and Spencer found himself trying to shove it down. Counting cards—it wasn’t exactly illegal, but it was frowned upon. And for someone like him, it wouldn’t be difficult. He knew the math, the probabilities, the strategies. It would be easy. Too easy. He tried to push the idea away, but it lingered, gnawing at him, tempting him. After all, wasn’t this a way to fix everything? To take control for once, to stop worrying about bills, about rent, about his mother’s care?

Before he could talk himself out of it, he walked up to the cashier and traded in his emergency cash for chips. His hand shook slightly as he held the stack, heart pounding louder than ever. He found a blackjack table near the back, away from the main crowd, and sat down. Spencer stared at the green felt, his mind calculating the odds before the dealer even shuffled the cards.

He took a deep breath and placed his first bet, knowing full well there was no turning back now.

Spencer’s leg bounced the entire bus ride back. His heart hadn’t stopped racing since he left the casino, and now, sitting there with a small mountain of cash stuffed in his backpack, he felt more jittery than ever. He was too shaky to ride his bike the rest of the way, so he walked, clutching the bag tightly against his chest. Every step felt surreal. What had he done?

By the time he made it home, the hallway was dark and quiet. He fumbled with his keys, his hands trembling, and slipped inside the apartment as quietly as he could. Y/N’s door was closed, the light from beneath faint, and the thought of anyone seeing him right now—of anyone knowing what he had just done—made his stomach twist. He hurried to his room, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

For a moment, he just stood there, staring at his backpack as if it were something dangerous. Then, with a shaky breath, Spencer sat down on the edge of his bed and unzipped the bag. Inside, wrapped haphazardly in his hoodie, was the cash. More money than he had ever seen in one place, let alone had in his possession. His fingers were trembling as he pulled it out, the stack thicker than he’d expected.

He counted it out slowly, each bill feeling heavier than the last. His eyes stung with tears as he finished, the reality of it hitting him like a wave. It was enough. Enough to pay his mother’s bill at the hospital, enough for groceries for the week, maybe even enough to put a little aside for rent. It was more money than he had ever made at his jobs. But it wasn’t the kind of money that came without a cost.

Spencer sniffed, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. His head dropped into his hands, and for a moment, he let the guilt, the shame, and the overwhelming relief swirl together into a confusing mess. He had cheated. He had counted cards, used his mind to exploit the system, and won. And though it wasn’t illegal, it felt wrong. He wasn’t supposed to be that person. 

But what else could he do? His mother needed him. The bills needed to be paid. 

He sniffed again, taking a deep, shaky breath. “I’ll take it to the bank in the morning,” he whispered to himself, as if saying it aloud would somehow make it all more manageable, more real.

Carefully, Spencer stacked the bills into a neat pile and placed them inside an old shoebox he pulled from his closet. He slid it onto the top shelf, hiding it behind some books and clothes. Then he stood there for a moment, staring at the closet door, willing himself to feel better.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he felt hollow, a pit forming in his stomach as he sat down on the bed again, the weight of the day settling heavily on his shoulders. His mother was safe, for now, but Spencer couldn’t shake the feeling that he had crossed a line he couldn’t uncross.

February had rolled in cold and uninviting, the chill in the air matching the unease still settled in Spencer’s gut. He hadn’t set foot in the casino since mid-January, but the memory of it still gnawed at him, like a dark, heavy weight that wouldn’t lift. Every time he let himself think about it too long, his stomach twisted into painful knots. He hated what he had done, hated even more that he had felt so desperate. The envelope of guilt sat unopened in the back of his mind, but he couldn’t afford to dwell on it.

His boss at the valet job had not been pleased with his abrupt absence, but after some tense words, Spencer had been given a second chance. The job was exhausting—long hours of running back and forth, parking expensive cars he’d never be able to afford, all while wearing shoes that pinched his feet. But it was money, and that was all that mattered. Between his classes, his job in the cafeteria, and the valet shifts, Spencer felt like he was running on fumes. He could feel the toll it was taking on him physically and mentally. His grades, thankfully, were still holding steady, but every night, he collapsed into bed, bone-tired and drained.

He didn’t know how Y/N did it. He heard her every night, just after they’d bid each other a quick goodnight. It was a brief exchange—him in the kitchen, her walking through the apartment. By the time he heard the water running from her shower, Spencer was usually halfway asleep, already slipping into that heavy, dreamless rest that only exhaustion could bring.

But then, like clockwork, he would hear the creaking floorboards in the hallway, the soft shuffle of her feet as the front door opened and closed around 9:30 p.m. every night. He never asked where she went. It wasn’t his business, and he had enough to deal with. Still, there was something unsettling about it—how she returned just before dawn, the soft creak of her door waking him briefly before he drifted back off. By the time Spencer left for his classes in the morning, Y/N would already be up, her own schedule just as busy, if not more so. It made him slightly worried, but again, he had no space left in his mind to think about it too much. 

His days were a blur of lab work, lectures, and dishwashing shifts, a seemingly endless cycle that left little room for anything else. But whenever he could, he visited his mother. Nearly every day after classes, he made the trek to the facility, spending whatever time he could with her. She was doing well—comfortable in her surroundings, though her episodes were still frequent enough to remind him why she needed the care. He wished he could be there more, but someone had to pay for the doctors and nurses who cared for her when he couldn’t. That was his burden to bear.

He would never forget the look of surprise on the billing woman’s face when he handed over the cashier’s check. Spencer had barely been able to make eye contact with her, the shame of how he’d acquired the money still burning deep in his chest. But the feeling of seeing the bold red stamp reading “PAID” across his mother’s bill was enough to loosen the tight coil inside him, if only for a moment. 

Still, he knew this peace was temporary. The next bill was always just around the corner, and the weight of it was never far from his mind. Spencer’s life was a balancing act—one misstep, and the entire thing could come crashing down. But for now, at least for a little while, the scales were even.

By April, things had changed for Spencer in ways he hadn’t fully expected. The weight of the bills had shifted into something more manageable, though the method by which he achieved it wasn’t exactly moral. February and March had been paid off the same way as January—quick trips to the casinos, a few nights of heart-pounding card counting, and the cash had come flooding in. It was easier now. The shame of the first time had dulled into something distant, almost numb. Sure, he knew it wasn't illegal, but rather a gray area he tiptoed into, but it was working. He had never felt better, at least financially. 

With the extra money, he’d been able to quit the valet job, cutting back on his time in the dishroom, and it felt like a massive relief. But the adrenaline rush that came from counting cards, from walking away with thick wads of cash, was hard to ignore. He knew he wasn’t being careful enough. He’d already been banned from two casinos, the pit bosses noticing his near perfect streaks. Maybe he could have been slicker, lost more games to throw them off. But that thrill—it was hard to fake losing when his mind was calculating every move to win.

Still, despite his newfound financial freedom, Spencer couldn’t help but notice the toll it was taking on him. Not the gambling, not directly. But everything else. The rush of cash had bought him more time, more freedom, but it also brought a lingering sense of dread. He had to keep doing it to maintain the lifestyle he had now. And that part of him that prided himself on being better, being honest—it was shrinking, buried under the weight of necessity.

Y/N seemed tired. They’d spent a few rare evenings together over the last couple of months, bonding over their mutual exhaustion, both swamped by their studies. Those were moments Spencer cherished. When he wasn’t thinking about his next trip to the casino or how to avoid getting caught, he found himself wondering about her. Child psychology, she’d told him one night, across campus from where he spent most of his time. He’d learned more about her in those brief conversations than he had in the months prior.

She worked as a secretary, she’d mentioned, spending her lunch breaks catching up on classwork and staying late at the office to make up for time lost during the day. Spencer had always known Y/N was busy, but hearing about her schedule made him realize just how much she was shouldering. It was no wonder she was always tired. He admired her for it—her perseverance, the way she was pushing through her own struggles without complaint. But part of him was worried. She looked drained most days, and he had seen the bags under her eyes getting darker with each passing week.

He was worried for her, but Spencer was also grappling with something else—a growing realization of what he had done to himself. This life, this cycle of stress, had become his norm. He had stumbled into a situation that gave him fleeting moments of relief, but the guilt was never far behind. How had he, someone so logical, so meticulous, let things spiral out of control like this?

As April wore on, Spencer found it harder and harder to reconcile the person he was becoming. He hated the lies, the sneaking off to casinos, the constant paranoia of getting caught. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep this up, but he also couldn’t see a way out. The bills would keep coming, and he needed to keep paying.

By mid-May, Spencer had been banned from his fifth casino. He'd seen it coming, of course. The way the pit bosses eyed him, how the dealers seemed too aware of his every move. It was a familiar pattern now, a mix of adrenaline and dread that built up until it all came crashing down. As he walked down the strip, waiting for the bus, he debated slipping into another new place, starting the cycle all over again. His phone buzzed in his pocket, pulling him from his thoughts. 

Y/N’s name lit up the screen.

"Hey, Spencer," her voice was shaky, breathy. He froze in place. Something was off.

"Are you busy?" she asked.

Spencer scanned the street, spotting a nearby taxi. His heart quickened, and he felt the familiar swell of concern.

"No," he said. "Is everything alright?"

There was a strained chuckle on the other end of the line, but it wasn’t convincing. “Yeah, I just… I shouldn't have called. You sound busy.”

He furrowed his brows, his voice softening. “Are you sure? I’m not doing anything. Do you need me to come get you?”

There was a pause. He could almost hear her swallow, hear the lump in her throat as she answered, "Yes. I'm at a bar. Flynn’s."

"I’ll be there soon."

When Spencer arrived, the first thing he noticed was the look on her face. The worry in her eyes, her lips pressed tightly together. The second thing that hit him was her outfit—she wasn’t dressed for a night out, wearing boxy sweats and gripping a duffel bag slung over her shoulder. She looked out of place, vulnerable. Spencer stood outside, waving until she spotted him through the window. Relief washed over her features, though her posture remained stiff as she stepped out of the bar.

The night was still, the moon high above them as they began walking. Neither of them said anything for a while, the silence stretching but not uncomfortable. Spencer kept glancing at her from the corner of his eye, trying to piece together what had happened, why she had called him. The streetlights cast long shadows over the sidewalk, and Y/N’s grip on her duffel bag never loosened.

“Thanks for coming,” she finally broke the silence, her voice small. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

Spencer shook his head quickly. “I was already out. You didn’t wake me, and even if you had—it doesn’t matter. You can always call me.”

Y/N gave a faint smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes. "I appreciate it," she said quietly, her gaze fixed on the pavement in front of them.

Spencer wanted to ask, to push, but he held back. He figured if she wanted to talk about it, she would. And for now, just being there for her was enough. The weight of her exhaustion, her unease, hung between them like a thick fog. Spencer wasn’t sure how to break it, so he stayed close by her side, making sure she knew he wasn’t going anywhere. 

The rest of the walk was quiet, the city alive around them but somehow distant, a blur of neon lights and distant voices. Spencer couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to this than just a bad night, but for now, he wouldn’t push. When they finally reached their apartment building, Y/N stopped at the door, exhaling deeply.

“Thanks, again,” she said, a little stronger this time.

Spencer gave her a reassuring nod. “Anytime.”

By June, the semester was finally over, and Spencer felt a weight lift off his shoulders. Without classes, he had more time to focus on two things: earning money and spending time with his mother. He visited her as often as possible, only leaving when he absolutely had to—whether for work or when the nurses firmly but kindly reminded him that visiting hours were over. 

He spent hours by her bedside, reading to her from medical journals or simply sitting in silence, watching her sleep peacefully in her room. The guilt of putting her there still lingered, but there was comfort in knowing she was safe. The nurses were kind, and although his mother had a few episodes here and there, overall, she seemed calmer. Spencer found himself staying later and later each time, as if his presence could stave off her illness just a little longer.

But even with his deep love for her, Spencer couldn't deny the other pull in his life—the casinos. He visited again, more subtle this time. He had learned from his earlier mistakes, easing his way into games without drawing attention. It was riskier now, with a reputation at some of the places, but Spencer was good at covering his tracks. Counting cards wasn’t difficult for him; if anything, it was almost too easy. 

In the span of just a few weeks, Spencer had tucked away a small nest egg of cash in his room, hidden carefully in a shoebox in the back of his closet. It was a safety net, meant for emergencies or to help cover his mother's bills when he fell short. 

At first, it had been all about necessity, but slowly, he felt his self-control loosening. He was winning more often than not, and it felt good. He started spending a little more on himself—things he had gone without for far too long. 

He treated himself to a new satchel, a sleek, brown leather bag that replaced the worn-out one he'd carried for years. He bought new shoes, sturdy and comfortable for his long walks to class or visits to his mom. He even scheduled a few doctor’s appointments, something he hadn’t done in a while. A new prescription for his glasses, and a splurge on contact lenses. It was all practical, he told himself, but it was hard to deny the small thrill he got from being able to afford it without guilt.

As for Y/N, she hadn't called him again since that night in May. Spencer had been concerned, at first, but then reasoned that she was likely dealing with her own busy life. He had tried to bring it up once, about a week after their walk home, while they were sharing dinner in the dining room. 

They had been laughing over one of Spencer’s stories—an encounter with a particularly rude valet customer who didn’t appreciate Spencer’s encyclopedic knowledge of vehicle makes and models.

“You know,” Spencer began, stirring his pasta, “I’ve been meaning to ask… what were you doing at that bar that night?”

He asked it gently, hoping not to push too hard. But the moment the question left his lips, he noticed the way Y/N’s eyes dimmed. Her smile faded just a little, and she shrugged, her focus shifting to her food.

“Bad date,” she said quickly, her tone dismissive.

Spencer hesitated, watching her closely, but decided to leave it at that. Y/N clearly didn’t want to elaborate, and he had enough of his own worries without prying into hers. They had fallen into a comfortable rhythm, an unspoken understanding. Spencer could sense that something was off, but he respected her space. Besides, he had enough going on with his mother, his finances, and his new balancing act between work and, now, self-indulgence.

The summer stretched out before him, a mix of freedom and burden, and Spencer was still unsure which one would win.

It was a calm night in July when everything caught up to Spencer. He’d been at the blackjack table, calculating odds with his usual precision, when a pair of casino security guards approached him. There was no immediate panic; he thought maybe they were checking IDs or doing a routine sweep. But then they pulled him away from the table, leading him to a back room where the pit boss and a few other staff members waited. The accusation was clear—he’d been caught.

Hours later, Spencer found himself sitting in the back of a squad car, the distant hum of the Las Vegas strip fading into the background. His heart pounded, but not for himself. His mind was on his mother. Locked away, he had no idea what would happen to her if he couldn’t make it back in time. Would the nurses understand? Would she panic without him there? The thought of her being confused and alone gnawed at him more than the fear of his own fate.

At the station, they took his details—name, age, bond amount—and left him in a holding cell. It was a small, cold room, dimly lit by flickering overhead lights. His thoughts raced as he sat on the hard bench, trying to figure out who to call. The shame was overwhelming, like a heavy stone lodged in his chest. He couldn’t call his professors; that would be a disaster. And his mother? No way.

After about an hour of internal debate, he settled on calling Y/N. His finger hovered over her name on his phone screen, anxiety twisting in his gut. Would she even answer? Would she be angry? Disappointed? He didn’t know what to expect.

He pressed the call button, holding his breath as the line rang and rang. No answer. The phone clicked, and he was met with her voicemail. 

Spencer slumped back against the cold wall of the cell, rubbing his hands over his face. He felt worse now, his chest tightening with guilt. He had dragged Y/N into this, into his mess, and now she wasn’t even answering. He was probably interrupting something important. Maybe she was at work, or worse, maybe he had pulled her away from something fun—a rare night out, even.

Another hour passed, his mind continuing to spiral into a web of worry. An officer came by, handing him his phone back.

“Try again,” the officer said, her tone flat.

With shaking fingers, Spencer dialed Y/N’s number once more. This time, she answered on the third ring. The background was filled with muffled music, her voice breathy as she greeted him.

“Hey, Spencer,” she said, sounding out of breath. “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

His heart sank. He could hear the noise, the laughter behind her, and instantly regretted calling. He pictured her out with friends, enjoying a rare night off, and here he was ruining it. He almost didn’t want to ask, but he knew he had no other choice.

“Y/N, I… I’m sorry. I got arrested,” he admitted, his voice small. “I—I don’t know who else to call.”

There was a long pause on the other end.

“Where are you?” she asked softly, and even though he couldn’t see her, he could picture the worry in her eyes.

“I’m at the downtown precinct. They, uh… they’re holding me for-”

He hears a zipper zip on her end. “I’ll be there soon.”

It took nearly an hour for her to show up, and in that time, Spencer could feel the weight of his situation pressing down harder with each passing minute. The fear, the guilt, the helplessness—it was all suffocating. He kept replaying the last few months in his head, wondering how he had let it spiral this far.

When Y/N finally arrived, Spencer felt a mix of shame and relief. She was still in the same sweats he had seen her in earlier that day, but her face was tight with concern. She barely said a word as she walked up to the front desk and counted out $1,000 in mixed bills, sliding the cash toward the woman behind the glass. The whole interaction felt surreal, like he was watching someone else’s life unfold from the outside.

The woman at the desk gave her a bored look before droning, “Someone will call him about the outcome. He’ll have a court date soon.”

Y/N nodded, taking the receipt and turning toward Spencer, who had been standing a few feet back, avoiding eye contact with everyone in the room. She motioned for him to follow her, and without a word, they stepped out of the police station into the cool night air.

For a long while, neither of them said anything. They just walked, side by side, the weight of the situation hanging heavy between them. Spencer could feel the tension, the unspoken questions bubbling beneath the surface.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, his voice cracking with exhaustion. “I didn’t mean to drag you into this.”

Y/N stopped walking, turning to face him. Her eyes softened, though there was still worry etched in her features. “We’ll talk about it later,” she said quietly. “Let’s just get home.”

Spencer nodded, too ashamed to say anything more. They walked the rest of the way in silence, and as they reached the front steps of their apartment building, Spencer couldn’t help but wonder how he was going to dig himself out of this hole.

August was supposed to be the start of a fresh semester, but instead, Spencer found himself sitting in a courtroom, missing his first day of classes. Y/N’s boss had managed to find him a pro bono lawyer, and after hours of waiting and worrying, the relief came in the form of a fine. It wasn’t an insignificant amount, but Spencer had enough in his checking account to cover it. No jail time. No criminal record. Just a bruised ego and a promise to himself that he’d get things back on track. Y/N had saved him, and he didn’t know how to properly thank her.

So, he bought her dinner.

They sat together, a comfortable silence filling the space between stories. Y/N laughed at something he said about an eccentric professor, and for a moment, all the weight of his mistakes felt like it had lifted. Spencer thought about how nice it was to have a friend—a real friend. Someone who didn’t judge him for his faults, who didn’t ask for explanations he couldn’t give. That night, as they cleared away the dishes, he thought about how different his life would be if she hadn’t picked up the phone.

As summer faded into fall, the pressure mounted again. His mother’s care, tuition, bills—everything felt like it was closing in. Despite the warnings he gave himself, Spencer found his way back to the casinos. At first, it was just to make ends meet, but soon he was hooked again. The thrill was intoxicating. His confidence grew, and with it, the risks. He found himself in underground poker games, the stakes higher than anything he had played before. It was dangerous, but he couldn’t help himself. The money was good, and for a while, it felt like he had control.

Until he didn’t.

One night, he left a private game with his pockets full, the air cool against his skin as he walked down a dimly lit street. He was feeling good—too good. But as he neared the end of the block, two men appeared from the shadows. They didn’t say much, just took his money, his watch, and left him with a bruise on his cheek and a burning pain in his stomach from where one of them had punched him.

When he got home, Y/N practically jumped off the couch the moment she saw him. Her eyes widened, and before he could say anything, she was leading him to the couch, gently pushing him down.

"Sit," she said, her voice calm but firm, though her eyes couldn’t hide the worry. A moment later, she returned with two ice packs, pressing one into his hand and placing the other on his cheek.

“What happened?” she asked, trying to keep her tone steady.

Spencer winced as he gingerly pressed the ice pack to his stomach. "It’s nothing," he mumbled. "Just ran into the wrong people."

Y/N’s brows furrowed. "Do you want to call the police?"

He shook his head quickly. "No, it’s not worth it. I shouldn’t have been there. It’ll just waste their time."

She didn’t seem convinced, but she didn’t press him. Instead, she sat down next to him, her shoulder brushing against his. "You don’t have to keep doing this, Spencer."

He closed his eyes, feeling the weight of her words settle on him. "I know," he whispered, but in the back of his mind, he couldn’t help but wonder if he really did.

By fall, Spencer and Y/N had fallen into a comfortable rhythm. Their routines intertwined seamlessly, like two cogs in a well-oiled machine. Despite everything else going on in their lives, they found small moments of joy. In early October, they decided to start decorating for Halloween. Some might say it was too soon, but neither of them cared. Spencer had been the one to suggest it, eager to cling to something fun and lighthearted amidst the constant stress. They spent a weekend hanging fake cobwebs in the windows and placing plastic pumpkins and skeletons around the apartment. Spencer, surprisingly, found himself smiling more than he had in a long time. 

It was a reprieve, even if temporary. The guilt still lingered at the back of his mind, nagging him whenever he returned from the casinos. He had stopped going to the private games—too risky after that one night. But he hadn’t stopped gambling altogether. He couldn’t. Not yet. His final semester was in full swing, and December commencement loomed closer. Graduation meant he wouldn’t have to re-enroll, wouldn’t have to juggle classes and the pressure of supporting his mother. He could finally find a stable job. Something steady that would take care of them both. He told himself it was just a matter of surviving until then. 

But as the weeks went on, the weight of it all began to creep back. Spencer would lie awake at night, staring at the ceiling, his mind running circles around his choices. Guilt gnawed at him for falling back into old habits. He tossed and turned one night in the middle of October, unable to shake the unease. Y/N had left late again, her car still broken down, and he assumed she was working extra hours to cover the cost of repairs. He figured she’d taken up more shifts at the bar where he’d picked her up that one night. It made sense, though he hadn’t asked. It wasn’t his business, he reminded himself. 

But he couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. She’d been working late a lot more often lately, coming back in the early morning hours, and it worried him. He kept telling himself she was just working hard, like he was. Still, the quiet of the apartment gnawed at him in her absence.

As he lay there, trying to force himself to sleep, the buzzing of his phone cut through the silence. His heart jumped. It was late—who could be calling him? He reached over to the bedside table and grabbed his phone. Y/N’s name lit up the screen. He furrowed his brows, a knot forming in his stomach as he sat up in bed.

“Hello?” Spencer answered, his voice low and cautious.

“Spencer…” Y/N’s voice was shaky, barely above a whisper. “I… I need your help.”

The knot tightened in his chest. “What’s wrong? Where are you?”

There was a pause on her end, and he could hear the faint hum of traffic in the background. “I’m not far. Just… can you come get me? Please?”

Without hesitation, Spencer threw back the covers and started pulling on a pair of jeans. “Of course. Where are you?”

She gave him the address, and Spencer was out the door within minutes. The streets were dark, illuminated only by the faint glow of streetlights, and his heart raced the entire way. Spencer expected to find himself standing outside Flynn’s again, but this time it was a different bar. His stomach twisted when he realized it wasn’t a bar at all, but a gentleman’s club. The neon lights flickered faintly, casting a garish glow over the entrance. Through the slightly ajar doors, he caught a glimpse of dim lighting, red velvet chairs, and the unmistakable sight of scantily clad women moving between tables. His cheeks flared up instantly, and he fought the urge to turn around and leave.

The bouncer at the door eyed him with a bored expression. “ID,” the man grunted.

Spencer fumbled with his wallet, barely able to focus as he handed over his driver’s license. The bouncer barely glanced at it before stepping aside. “Enjoy yourself.”

Enjoy myself? Spencer thought, feeling sick. This wasn’t his scene. He wasn’t the type to gawk at women in lingerie, no matter how much he understood that it was just a job to them. It still made him uncomfortable. He could already feel his nerves bubbling up as he hesitantly stepped inside, the heavy door closing behind him. The music thumped through the room, loud and rhythmic, and the room was filled with men, most with glazed-over eyes, openly staring at the performers on stage.

His eyes darted around the room, scanning for Y/N. His heart raced faster with each passing moment.

Before he could take another step, a woman with bright red hair, wearing a barely-there outfit, leaned against him, pressing her body too close for comfort. "Looking for a good time?" she purred, her voice smooth and practiced.

Spencer swallowed nervously, his hands stiff at his sides. "Uh, no—actually, I’m, uh, looking for someone. Y/N?"

The redhead’s expression shifted instantly. She straightened, her flirtatious demeanor dropping. "Y/N?" she repeated, her eyes narrowing as if she were assessing him. "What’s your name?"

"Spencer," he answered, confused by her sudden change in tone.

Without another word, she grabbed his wrist, pulling him toward a door behind the bar. Spencer blinked, stumbling slightly as he followed her. The catcalls and whistles from the nearby men echoed as they passed, but he barely registered them.

"Come on," the redhead muttered, leading him through the door and down a short hallway. "She’s back here."

Spencer’s heart pounded in his chest as they approached a small room near the cooler. When the redhead pushed the door open, he saw Y/N sitting on a metal stool, her knee bouncing wildly. She looked shaken, pale, her hair a mess. As soon as she saw him, she rushed forward and wrapped her arms around him.

"Thank you for coming," she murmured against his chest. He could feel her trembling.

Spencer awkwardly returned the hug, his arms wrapping around her in a comforting gesture. "Of course," he replied softly. "Do you want to head home?"

Y/N nodded, pulling away slightly to meet his eyes. "Are you okay with taking a cab?" she asked, her voice still shaky.

Before Spencer could answer, the redhead piped up again. "Clive’s back," she explained, crossing her arms over her chest. "Y/N doesn’t like to leave alone when he’s here. Usually we have a guy to drive them home, but he's sick."

Spencer frowned, the pieces starting to click in his mind.

Without a second thought, he pulled out his phone. "I’ll call a taxi."

The ride home was quiet. Y/N sat beside him, her eyes staring out the window, while Spencer tried to process everything. He hadn’t expected any of this when she’d called him.

When they got back to the apartment, Y/N immediately started pacing in the living room. Spencer watched her from the doorway, unsure of what to say. He started to retreat toward his bedroom, giving her space, but her voice stopped him.

"Can you stay for a bit?" she asked quietly, her voice so small he almost didn’t hear it.

Spencer hesitated but nodded. "Yeah, of course."

They sat in the living room, the silence thick between them until Y/N broke it. "How was your day?" she asked, trying to keep her voice casual.

Spencer blinked, surprised by the question. "Uh, it was... fine. I went to see my mom today."

Y/N stopped pacing, looking over at him. "How is she?"

"She’s... the same," he admitted, feeling the familiar weight settle on his shoulders. "She’s in a home now. Schizophrenia."

Y/N’s expression softened. "I’m sorry."

He shrugged, trying to downplay it. "It’s just... my life."

The room fell into silence again. Spencer wasn’t sure what to say, but before he could think of anything, Y/N spoke again, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I don’t want to be a stripper." Her words hung in the air, and Spencer felt his heart sink. He looked over at her, watching as she wrung her hands together nervously.

"It’s easy money," she continued, her voice shaky. "But I know you’ll see me differently now."

Spencer’s throat tightened. He shook his head, his voice soft but firm. "Y/N, I don’t see you any differently."

Spencer watched as Y/N exhaled, the tension in her shoulders loosening as his words settled over her. He hadn't realized until now just how much she had been carrying, how deeply she feared judgment. In that moment, he felt an ache—a quiet understanding of how much they'd both hidden from each other.

He swallowed hard, the knot in his throat tightening again, but this time, it wasn’t just from the weight of her confession. His own secrets had been buried for months, festering beneath the surface. Now, with the raw honesty between them, they suddenly felt too heavy to keep to himself. The words he hadn’t meant to share began bubbling up before he could stop them.

“I… I’ve been hiding something too,” he began, his voice so low he wasn’t sure if she heard him at first. When she looked up at him, eyes still soft but curious, he knew he had to say it.

He shifted in his seat, fingers nervously tapping against his knee as he searched for the right way to explain. But the truth was, there wasn’t a ‘right way.’

“Y/N, I—” he started, then hesitated. His heart pounded in his chest, and he could feel the rush of guilt flood his system before the words even left his lips. “I cheat casinos. It’s… it’s not like I’m counting cards—well, I guess I kind of am. But it’s not exactly illegal… more of a morally gray loophole.”

Her eyes widened slightly, but she didn’t say anything, just listened. He kept going, his words spilling out in a rush, almost as if he needed to explain himself before she could react.

“It’s the only way I can afford my mother’s care,” he admitted, his voice hoarse with emotion. “The medical bills, the home, everything—it’s all so expensive. I didn’t know what else to do. I wasn’t making enough just working. So I started going to casinos, trying to use what I knew, what I was good at, to make enough money to keep her safe.”

He could feel his pulse in his ears, the blood rushing to his face. He hadn’t planned to tell her. He hadn’t even planned to admit it to himself. But here he was, spilling the truth in one messy, unfiltered confession.

“I know it’s wrong, but I couldn’t watch her suffer. I just… I didn’t want to lose her.”

Silence filled the room. Y/N didn’t look away, didn’t interrupt. She just watched him, her expression unreadable as the weight of his words sank in.

Spencer felt exposed, like a spotlight was shining down on him, illuminating every flaw, every mistake. He wasn’t sure what kind of reaction he was expecting—anger, disappointment, maybe even disgust. But instead, there was a shift. A quiet understanding settled between them, like they had reached some unspoken agreement.

Y/N slowly moved from where she had been standing and sat down beside him. She didn’t say anything at first, just rested her hand gently on his. Her touch was warm, grounding, and it sent a wave of relief through his chest.

“I get it,” she said softly, her voice filled with empathy rather than judgment. “You’re doing what you think you have to do.”

Spencer blinked, taken aback by her response. He had been bracing himself for condemnation, but instead, there was this—a quiet acceptance. She wasn’t condoning what he’d done, but she understood why.

“I don’t see you any differently either, Spencer,” she added, her eyes meeting his. “We’re both just trying to survive.”

Her words hit him hard, the rawness of them resonating deep inside him. They were both tangled in their own struggles, doing what they thought was necessary, even if it blurred the lines of right and wrong. And in that moment, Spencer realized that they weren’t just two people keeping secrets from each other. They were two people trying to navigate a messy, complicated world in the only ways they knew how.

For the first time in months, Spencer didn’t feel so alone.

As the months passed, Spencer and Y/N's connection deepened, their shared confessions forming the foundation for a much stronger bond. Spencer, once hesitant to let anyone get too close, found himself softening in her presence. He kept his phone on all night, ready to answer her calls without a second thought. Y/N seemed to sense that he was always there for her, and the distance that had once separated them as roommates faded into something much more personal.

On quiet nights, when Y/N didn’t have work and Spencer wasn’t pulled into the casino world, they spent hours talking. Spencer even began taking her with him to the casinos, showing her the ropes, teaching her how to gamble with efficiency and precision. He was patient, guiding her through the math and the psychology of it all, explaining his methods for maximizing their chances without raising suspicion. She picked it up quickly, and they even managed to win small amounts together, enough for a celebratory dinner or a couple of drinks afterward. 

Mornings became their time to unwind. They would sit over coffee, the rich aroma filling the small kitchen, and swap dreams and desires. Spencer talked about his future, how after commencement, he was hoping to find something steady so he could finally stop relying on the casinos to support his mother. Y/N shared her own ambitions, but they were less concrete. She wasn’t quite sure what the next step was for her—she just knew that the life she was living wasn’t what she wanted long-term.

Dinner was different—lighter. They laughed over the mishaps of their day, whether it was Spencer recounting an awkward encounter with a professor or Y/N sharing wild stories about strange customers at the bar. The ease between them was palpable, and Spencer realized that he looked forward to those moments just as much as anything else.

As the semester drew to a close, the temperature dropped, and the crisp air signaled the end of fall. Spencer found himself in an odd limbo, stuck between the stress of final exams and the excitement of commencement. One afternoon, he was sitting at the table, filling out a request form to bring his mother to the graduation ceremony. His brow furrowed as he concentrated, not noticing Y/N slip through the front door until she spoke.

“Groceries are put away,” she called from the kitchen, her voice bright. A moment later, she settled onto the couch, tucking her legs underneath her. “So, what do you think about becoming a nanny?”

Spencer glanced up, raising a curious eyebrow. “Me? I’d be terrible with kids.”

She let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Not you, Spencer. Me. I was just thinking about it. You know, maybe it’d be a change of pace, something different.”

He pushed the form aside for a moment, turning in his chair to give her his full attention. “I think you should go for it if you’re interested. It’d definitely be a shift from bartending.”

Y/N sighed, leaning her head back on the couch. “Yeah, but I don’t exactly have stellar references…”

Spencer cocked his head, confused by her sudden hesitation. “What do you mean?”

With a small smirk, Y/N lifted the hem of her shirt just slightly, swirling her hips in a playful motion. Spencer blinked for a moment before it clicked, and then he chuckled, the realization dawning on him. “Ah, right. The whole… dancer thing.”

She rolled her eyes, but there was a smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah. Not exactly nanny material, huh?”

Spencer shook his head, still amused. “I don’t think that disqualifies you, Y/N. You’re good with people. You’d be great with kids.”

“You think?” She shifted, her tone lighter now, though still carrying a hint of doubt.

“I know,” he replied confidently. “Besides, what’s the worst that could happen? Give it a shot. It can’t be any worse than some of the jobs you’ve done, right?”

Y/N laughed softly, the tension easing from her shoulders as she let his words sink in. “I guess you’re right. Maybe I will give it a try.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, the warmth of their shared space wrapping around them like a blanket. Spencer glanced back down at the form in front of him, his thoughts wandering as he imagined his mother sitting in the audience at his graduation. His life, once filled with uncertainty, now felt like it was finally moving forward. And sitting there, with Y/N across the room, he realized he wasn’t facing it alone anymore.

Commencement day was a blur of emotions for Spencer. He stood in his cap and gown, the weight of his degree finally sinking in as he scanned the audience. His heart swelled when he saw his mother, Diana, sitting near the front, smiling proudly. She’d been well enough to come to the ceremony, and the fact that she was there—present and lucid—made everything feel even more meaningful. Y/N sat next to her, waving at him with a wide grin, and for the first time in a while, Spencer allowed himself to feel like everything was falling into place.

After the ceremony, they all went out to dinner. It was a simple restaurant, nothing extravagant, but the company made it perfect. Diana was animated, more herself than she had been in a long time, and Y/N fit seamlessly into the mix, chatting comfortably with Spencer’s mother as if they had known each other for years. Spencer sat back, watching them, feeling a rare sense of contentment. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to forget the anxieties of the future.

The night carried on, and after dinner, Spencer walked his mother back to her room at the assisted living facility, staying well into the late hours. Diana seemed more at peace than she had been in months, and Spencer clung to that, knowing how fleeting these moments could be. They sat together, her hand in his, as he nervously told her about the job offer he had received from the FBI.

"I don’t know if I’m ready," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "It’s... it’s a lot. I don’t know if I’m the right person for it."

Diana’s eyes, filled with a mother’s wisdom and love, softened as she squeezed his hand gently. “Spencer,” she began, her voice calm and reassuring, “you’ve been preparing for something like this your whole life. You’re brilliant, and you have a good heart. I think you know what the right thing to do is.”

He swallowed hard, looking down at their joined hands. The FBI was something he never imagined for himself. He had attended a career fair weeks ago with Y/N, more for her than for himself. She had been relatively uninterested, wandering through the booths, but Spencer had found himself lingering near the FBI’s table, mesmerized by the thought of working for them. He could picture himself in the field, wearing a bulletproof vest, solving cases that no one else could. The idea had shaken him, and he’d quickly dismissed it at the time. But apparently, Jason Gideon, the FBI agent manning the table, had noticed. He’d taken an interest in Spencer, encouraging him to apply.

“I just… I don’t know if I can do it,” Spencer admitted, his throat tightening again. “What if I fail?”

Diana’s smile was soft, knowing. “You won’t fail. And even if you stumble, you’ll get back up. You’ve always been resilient, Spencer. Don’t let fear stop you from going after what you want.”

Spencer’s eyes met hers, and in that moment, he knew what she was really saying. She was urging him to take the leap, not just for himself but because she believed in him. And maybe—just maybe—that belief was enough to tip the scales.

He sighed, nodding slowly, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

Diana chuckled softly, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. “That’s because I know my son.”

The conversation lingered in his mind as he walked home that night, the streets quiet under the chilly December sky. By the time he arrived, Y/N was already asleep on the couch, a blanket draped over her. Spencer stood for a moment, watching her in the soft glow of the living room lamp, feeling grateful for the way she had been there for him through everything.

He quietly retreated to his room, but he couldn’t sleep. His mind was racing with thoughts of the future, the weight of the decision in front of him. He could almost hear his mother’s voice urging him forward, telling him not to be afraid.

As Christmas Day rolled around, the apartment felt eerily empty. Most of the furniture was gone, and the decorations were sparse. Spencer was on his way to visit his mother’s facility, a tradition they had every holiday season, when Y/N’s voice called out, stopping him in his tracks.

“Spencer, wait!” she called, shaking a small stack of neatly wrapped boxes in her hands.

His heart melted at the sight. He walked over, his smile widening. “Is that my gift?”

Y/N grinned, handing him the boxes. “It sure is.”

Spencer grabbed two boxes from under the small Christmas tree they had left standing in the corner and handed them to her. “And these are yours.”

They settled on the couch, exchanging gifts with the kind of quiet excitement that came from years of friendship.

He tore open the first box, revealing a soft, purple scarf. Spencer laughed, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as he ran his fingers over the fabric. “A purple scarf?”

Y/N nodded, her eyes twinkling with warmth. “It gets cold in D.C., so I thought I’d give you something for when you get off the plane, Agent.”

The word “Agent” made Spencer’s chest swell with pride, even as he blinked back tears. He opened the next boxes, finding a few sweaters, gloves, and a thicker coat. Practical gifts, but thoughtful nonetheless. They were things he would need for his new life, things that showed how well Y/N knew him.

Y/N, meanwhile, opened her gifts with a bright smile. Inside were a few children’s books, a brand-new lunchbox, a journal, and a manual on nannying. She looked up at Spencer, her eyes soft with gratitude.

“These are perfect,” she whispered, flipping through one of the books. “You really thought of everything, didn’t you?”

Spencer chuckled, shrugging modestly. “I wanted to make sure you were prepared for the new job. It’s going to be a big change.”

She smiled at him, the kind of smile that told him how much she appreciated him—not just for the gifts, but for the friendship they had built over the years. “Thank you, Spencer.”

For a moment, they just sat there in the quiet, the weight of the future hanging between them. But it wasn’t heavy, not like before. It felt hopeful. Like they were both ready for whatever came next, even if it meant parting ways for now.

“You’re gonna do great, you know?” Spencer said, his voice soft.

Y/N met his gaze, her smile warm and full of confidence. “So will you, Spencer.”

Spencer’s heart fluttered as he stood at the counter, fidgeting with his fingers. Telling Y/N he wasn’t renewing the lease had been eating at him for days. He finally worked up the courage, watching her closely for a reaction.

“I won’t be renewing the lease next month,” he blurted, his voice slightly shaky. His nerves prickled with unease. He was afraid of leaving her, of this new chapter that would take him away from the apartment they had called home for so long.

Y/N breathed a dramatic sigh over the counter separating them. Spencer blinked, confused by her calm reaction.

“I’m not renewing either,” she said with a nonchalant shrug, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

His heart skipped a beat. “Wait—what?”

She gave him a grin, leaning on the counter. “I found a family to nanny for. A woman who’s a child psychologist, ironically enough. I’m transferring to a different campus next semester to be closer to them.”

Spencer let out a breath, relieved and proud of her. They shared a quick laugh, the tension melting away. For a moment, they just stood there, smiling at each other, their eyes filled with a mix of pride and the unspoken acknowledgment that things were changing—but it was the good kind of change.

The morning sun glinted off the tarmac as Spencer stood beside Y/N in the airport parking lot, a mix of excitement and apprehension swirling in his chest. The reality of their impending separation felt heavier than the duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He glanced at Y/N, who stood next to him, her hands stuffed deep into the pockets of her jacket, a bittersweet smile on her face.

“I can’t believe this is it,” he said, his voice slightly wobbly. “It feels like we were just decorating for Halloween.”

Y/N nodded, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “Time flies, doesn’t it? But you’re going to do amazing things, Spencer. I know it.”

Taking a deep breath, he pulled out a pen from his jacket pocket and flipped open her address book. With careful strokes, he wrote down his new address in Washington, D.C. The words felt surreal, a tangible representation of how much had changed in such a short time.

“There,” he said, closing the book and handing it back to her. “You have to come visit. You can stay with me, and we’ll explore the city together.”

“Deal.” She looked down at the page, tracing his address with her fingertip as if committing it to memory. “Just don’t forget to send me a postcard or two, okay?”

“Of course,” he promised, a small smile creeping onto his lips. “I’ll even send one from the FBI office.”

Y/N laughed lightly, but there was an edge of sadness in her voice. “I’ll be waiting.”

They stood in silence for a moment, both of them acutely aware of the ticking clock and the finality of the moment. It felt strange to be standing there, knowing they were about to go their separate ways. He would be stepping into a new chapter, and she would be continuing her own journey.

Spencer took a step closer, his heart pounding. “Can I have one last hug?” 

Y/N stepped forward without hesitation, wrapping her arms around him. He breathed in her familiar scent—a comforting blend of lavender and something uniquely her. It felt both reassuring and achingly bittersweet. He held her tight, as if trying to absorb every moment they had shared, every laugh, every worry, and all the late-night talks.

“Promise me you’ll take care of yourself,” she murmured into his shoulder, her voice muffled. “I don’t want to hear any stories about you getting into trouble.”

“I promise,” he replied, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes. “And you take care of yourself too, Y/N. You deserve all the happiness in the world.”

With that, they hugged once more, the embrace lingering longer than it should have. It was a goodbye filled with unspoken words, memories, and a strong bond that would remain even across the miles. Finally, they stepped back, both reluctantly breaking the contact.

“Okay, I guess I should go,” Spencer said, glancing over his shoulder at the terminal. 

“Yeah,” Y/N replied, biting her lip as she fought to hold back tears. “I’ll be okay. Just… don’t forget me.”

He reached out, squeezing her hand tightly before letting go. “I could never forget you, Y/N. You’ve been one of the best parts of my life.”

With a final wave, he turned and headed toward the entrance of the airport, glancing back once to see Y/N standing there, her silhouette framed by the bright morning light. He could see the glimmer of tears in her eyes, and it pulled at his heart.

As he walked through the sliding glass doors, he couldn’t shake the feeling of loss settling in his chest. He reached the lobby, the sounds of the bustling airport swirling around him, but all he could think about was her. He found a spot by the large windows, waiting for his flight, but his gaze remained fixed outside.

It wasn’t until he spotted her car pulling out of the lot that he felt a wave of emotions crash over him. He watched as she drove away, the red taillights disappearing into the distance, and his heart ached. A mix of gratitude and longing filled him as he thought about all the moments they had shared, how she had been his anchor in a storm of chaos.

Spencer pulled out his phone, his fingers hovering over her contact information. He sent her a quick message, a simple “Thank you for everything. I’ll miss you,” before slipping the phone back into his pocket. 

He could feel the weight of her absence already, but deep down, he knew this wasn’t truly the end. Their friendship had weathered so much; he had faith it would withstand the distance. 

As he settled into a seat in the waiting area, his heart brimmed with both hope and sorrow, knowing they were both embarking on new journeys. And as he stared out at the endless sky, he vowed to make the most of this opportunity—both for himself and for Y/N.

[multi-fxndom446]

Think of me once in a while

John ‘Soap’ Mactavish

Warning: literally angst. I have no excuse I had an urge to write something sad so now you all suffer with me.

Summary: you sacrifice yourself for Johnny.

Word count: 1.3K

The violins started slowly, one by one joining the next until it was an overwhelmingly devastating sound.

He liked to think you would’ve liked it had it not been so sad. You always did like slower songs, if the orchestra he took you to years ago was anything to go by.

You were in tears by the end and he never understood how something without words could have such a drastic impact.

He understood now though.

He understood as he stared blankly at your coffin being lowered into the ground. The few people there were making there stops to put a rose down on the casket as it was being lowered and he couldn’t help but think how you deserved more.

Your line of work wouldn’t allow you to have a public funeral, not that it would’ve mattered. There was no one else beside the 141 in your life and they were all there watching.

But still…he couldn’t help but think how you deserved something bigger, something that you would be recognized for. Something that he could say a speech on how you saved many lives..how you saved His life.

He clenched his fist. He wanted to hate you for this. He wanted to hate you for taking the hit for him, for laying your life down for him. All because, in your words, the team needed him more than you.

God if you were stood next to him he’d be shaking you, calling you an idiot and to never do it again. He’d tell you to never lose your life for his. Hed-

Johnny stopped. His heart breaking into a thousand pieces. He’d cry.., he’d hold you just to feel you alive against him and maybe just maybe he’d get the chance to finally tell you he’d loved you and maybe you would’ve let him kiss you.

But he can’t now.

“Johnny.” Ghost laid a hand on his shoulder. He could tell he was trying to be gentle but he didn’t know if ghost had a gentle bone in his body. “They’re gonna start with the dirt soon..”

Johnny nodded in a daze. “Johnny.” Simon said again quietly. “The rose.”

He looked down to his clenched fists and saw what he meant. The rose, the same ones everyone had thrown onto your casket, was still clutched tightly in his hand.

Simon gave him a nudge forward and he took reluctant steps, his gaze falling onto his captain who wore a mask of indifference. Though if he looked close enough he could see the cracks.

The last time he saw you before you were laying in his arms came flooding to the forefront of his mind each step closer to the hole in the ground.

~

You were standing at a booth, pretending to look at some greeting cards when he appeared on the other side.

He picked up one of them but wasn’t paying attention to it. He was trying to discreetly get your attention but you wouldn’t look at him.

“Y/n, you seein’ anythin’?” Simon asked and Johnny watched as your gaze finally flitted up to meet his for a second before scanning the crowd.

“Targets getting ready to move.” You muttered softly and moved away. Johnny watched you get further from him and his heart ached.

He was angry, he had been angry for what felt like months since Makarov escaped. Sometimes his anger blinded him but he tried his best to never let it be directed at you.

Even if it had you had seen his anger a good amount of times, you’d been on the shit end of the stick more times then he’d like to admit but you never batted an eye. Never shut him out when he snapped at you, so why now?

You almost seemed distracted. Floating through the task at hand.

Johnny wanted to reach for you, wanted you to tell him what was wrong but when he took a step forward Prices voice cut through. “Soap get a move on.”

“Ey.” He forced himself to look away and move on. He wished now he would’ve taken the second to brush your hand, something small but comforting.

If he’d known it would be the last time he saw you breathing he would’ve told you to stay where you were. To not move.

But he couldn’t turn back time.

The dreaded moments that came after were ones he wished he could bury so deep they never resurfaced.

One minute he was calling orders at price so they could diffuse the bomb then next Makarov had a gun pointed to the side of his head.

His life flashed before his eyes. All those moments with you, the moments he should’ve said something, should’ve kissed you, held you, loved you. All gone.

“No!” Your voice cut through the fog. His eyes widened in shock when you seemingly came out of nowhere and managed to direct the gun to you the second Makarov pulled the trigger. Shooting you in the chest.

Johnnys eyes stared at you in shock as you looked at him with the same expression, blood already coating your clothes.

He caught you the moment you fell to the ground. The sounds of gun fire as price shot at Makarov falling on deaf ears. All that mattered was you.

“What-“ Johnny choked, hand fumbling with the straps of your gear so he could get a better angle of the wound. So he could put pressure on it. “What tha hell did you do.” He gritted at frustrated when your gear wouldn’t move.

“It couldn’t be you.” You told him. You had the audacity to look relieved about what you did. Like you accomplished your own goal. “They need you more.”

“What?!” He shook his head. “What the hell are ya’..?” Johnnys sentence trailed off. The distance, you being distracted, It all made sense. He recalled then the time he walked in on a heated conversation between you and Price. He thought he heard his name once or twice but the moment you saw him your whole demeanor changed and you were all smiles as you ushered him out.

You knew you were going to do this. You knew one day you’d give your life up for his. “Why…?” But you couldn’t talk anymore. Your body growing colder in his hold. All you could manage to do was grip onto his hand and nod as if that would explain everything.

The rest was a blur. Makarov got away but Johnny sat there with you in his arms until Simon came up, checking your pulse then shaking his head in Prices direction.

You were gone.

~

Johnny kept his eyes on Price until the very last moment when he dropped the rose down. Watching it as it joined the rest of the bouquet.

He glanced up. The violins had stopped playing. He realized it was because the funeral they were there for came to a close and they were all leaving and he was left feeling emptier.

“I know you won’t like the answer.” Price said with a sigh as he came to stand next to him. “But I think you want to know.”

“You knew.” He muttered.

Price nodded. “I knew she cared for you.” Johnny scoffed.

“She knew from the beginning this is how she wanted to go out.” Price continued. “She decided that on her own. Don’t waste what she gave you.”

Johnny titled his head toward the sky to try and stop the tears. Price patted his shoulder before he walked away, taking Gaz with him.

Simon watched further away so Johnny could have a moment.

There was so much Johnny wanted to say. So much he wanted to yell. But knowing he wouldn’t ever be able to come back to this spot to see you again, he said the only thing he hoped would give him closure.

“I love you.”

-

[solemnvelvetangel]

"Come To Bed" - Ango Sakaguchi

Notes:

July 10th, 2024

Word Count: 979

GN! Reader

Content Warning: None.

Not enough fics for him, to be honest...

___

Saying that Ango Sakaguchi is a hard worker is an understatement. His work is his everything, consuming his days and haunting his sleepless nights. He will spend hours hunched over his desk looking through documents, responding to emails, taking phone calls, everything a good government worker should do. He was a model worker, at the price of being a neglectful lover, that is.

You tossed and turned in your sheets, the fact that there was so much room felt… wrong. You wished that you were being smothered, that your lover would just come to bed and invade your space so you could feel a lot less lonely at night. You groaned and sat up, lowering your head into your hands. You’re not sure how much of this you can take. You were tired of sleeping alone, of waking up to no one there to wish you good morning. You knew his work was important, but…

You let your feelings win this time. You sighed, before kicking the blankets off of your body and climbing out of bed. You grabbed your robe and shrugged it lazily onto your shoulders and slipped your feet into your slippers before making your way to his office in your shared apartment. The door to his office is wide open, the light from his desk lamp dimly creeping into the hallway. You walked up to the door frame and watched as Ango typed away at his laptop. Just as you suspected.

He kept switching between typing and reading over physical documents that he had on his desk. He was so focused, that he hadn’t even heard your footsteps approach his office. He really was in his zone. Even though he was busy, you couldn’t stop yourself from slowly approaching him from behind. You lift your hands and place them gently onto his shoulders, the sudden contact making him freeze and his typing come to a halt.

“... Why are you awake at this hour?” Ango asks, his voice a bit rigid. He didn’t sound angry or annoyed that you had walked into his office unannounced, he sounded… tired.

“Waiting for you.” You replied, wrapping your arms around him and lowering your chin onto his shoulder. The smell of his cologne, the warmth of his body, and the feeling of the shape of his shoulders flooded your senses for the first time in what seemed like an eternity.

“You don’t have to do that,” He said, resuming his typing once he relaxed into your embrace. “You should go rest, it’s two in the morning.”

“I could say the same to you.” You said softly, holding him a little tighter. “Come to bed with me…” Your voice sent shivers running down his spine. His heart ached for your touch, for your body to be nestled between his arms as the sound of your breathing lulled him into a calm sleep. God, he wanted that so badly. He craved it.

“I have to finish this report, you know it’s important.” He said, pushing the thought away. No, he can’t get ahead of himself. He needs to finish this project. The sooner he can finish, the sooner he can be totally yours. He turned his head to see your expression, your gaze had fallen to the floor and your mouth was bent into a small frown.

“Okay…” You responded in a quiet voice. “Good night, Ango.” You gave him a chaste kiss on the cheek before pulling away. His body suddenly felt cold as you exited his office. He stared at the empty door frame for a few moments before sighing and turning back to his laptop.

Instead of getting back to work like he anticipated, he sat there for five minutes just staring at what he wrote. Not reading. Just staring. His eyes were getting heavy with sleep, and all of his limbs were sore. He groaned before putting his head in his hands, cursing himself. Why can’t he focus? Why can’t he just get it all done and over with? Why did he have to stay up all night, writing a report that he could care less about?

Come to bed with me…

Those words rung in his head, silencing all other thoughts. Maybe, just this once… he’ll let his heart win over his head.

Screw it… He thought as he shut his lap top and got up from his chair. He turned off the lamp in his office and headed towards the bedroom. He lingered in the door frame, seeing you sitting up in the bed, still awake. It took you a moment to realize he was standing there. There was a long moment of silence before you held out your arms, leaving them open for him.

“Come here…” You said, and he couldn’t say no. He climbed onto the bed and into your arms, your back pressed against the mattress as he rested his head onto your chest. The sound of your heartbeat filled his ears, making him feel calm and warm as his arms wrapped around you.

“What about your report?” You asked as one of your hands smoothed down his hair.

“I can finish it tomorrow…” He replied quietly. “Right now, I just want to be in your arms.” His eyes began to feel heavier and heavier as he melted into the embrace. To him, this was heaven.

“Alright,” You said, giving him a kiss on the forehead. “Good night…” He didn’t respond back, you looked down at him to see that he had already dozed off. He probably hadn’t gotten proper sleep in a long, long time. You felt a smile tug at your lips as you laid your head back on the pillow, content that he was in your arms instead of sleeping alone for another night. He was here. With you. And that was enough to make you feel at peace.

[babygirl-riley]

I have a request for ghost x reader where reader and ghost are in a relationship and reader is going to be switched into another task force and hasn't told ghost and when she tells ghost he like gets all sad and scared that he'll never see the reader ever again and they cry together cause they made such good memories with eachother and the 141 and in the end maybe reader transfer is canceled and she not going anywhere and is staying with ghost.

Change of Plans Pt. I

Ghost and you talk about the new orders that was giving to you from Price

“There’s no end. There’s no goodbye.”

A/N: Yeeeeeaaaah so you gave me ideas and now it turns into a 3 part series. 👉🏻👈🏻 Hope you enjoy the first one 🫠 Little change of plans for the moment 🤭

Warnings: Angst, fluff, established relationship, small very small mentions of smut, small cuddle moment, sad!simon but ya know doesn’t really express it, swearing

simon x reader guide

simon x reader fluff/angst

Pt. II

The silence was strong, you could hear an sort of movement that the base would make. Someone turning a faucet or a pen dropping. You sat on your bed with puffy red eyes as Simon stood frozen in the middle of your room. You had to tell him before Price announced it to the team.

You fought about for weeks about the orders telling Price to basically buzz off. That this was your team. Your family. So Price being Price tried to have the commander that wanted you on their task force at bay. Until today. Price asked to meet him in the office after the another successful mission.

“Commander Graves is getting impatient y/n,” Price said lowering his voice as you shut the door. “I’m sorry I tried.”

When he handed you the envelope you laughed darkly. “You gotta be shitting me Price.”

“I wish Sargent.” He said frowning, he sat in his chair for a moment before sighing. “He wants you tomorrow night. They are going on their own assignment that they need you on.”

You glared at the envelope, you could rip it to pieces and say to hell with it. But now it’s in writing and pretty sure this Commander Graves made more copies. After a long silence Price stood up to place a hand on your shoulder. “1400 the last plane to the force leaves. Better start saying your goodbyes.”

So immediately you looked out for Simon going from hallway to hallway. Building to building. He had to be the first one to know. You and him had been together for about 9 months now. Secretly no one knew. Maybe they did find out and you were being punished this way. Instead of insubordination, that’s why Price didn’t say anything for a while.

When you found him he was walking with Johnny getting cleaned up from the previous mission. “Lass! There ya are! What did the capt…”

“Not now Johnny,” You snapped, feeling guilty right after. “I need to speak with you privately Lieutenant.”

Simon snapped his eyes over to Soap who was standing in awe before looking down at you. “‘Ight, catch up with ya, yeah.” He said to Johnny who nodded to his reply.

Now you were both here, sitting in your room. You handed the envelope first as he opened it slowly. Simon was confused at first as he read before snapping his head up. “What does it mean your leavin’?” He growled, you thought he was mad at you.

“I don’t know some Commander down in the US needs me there,” You sighed wiping your eyes. “Says that they need a Lieutenant there.”

“But ya not a Lieutenant.” He said gripping the paper.

You inhaled deeply, you pointed to the paper. “Read more Simon.”

That’s where he froze and just re read the words over and over again. “By the United States Commander in Chief Hershel Shepard, you have been promoted to Lieutenant y/l/n as of February 20th, 2022.”

Simon couldn’t believe it, you were leaving back to the states after years on being on the force. He just got you. Finally figuring out what he has felt for months being with you. Caring for you. Maybe even love you. Now you were being taken away. He heard you sniffling bringing him back into reality.

You watched as slowly he brought his head up, being faced with his skull mask. His painted eyes looking right at you. “No we are talkin’ to Price maybe he can…”

“Already tried that.”

“‘Ight then we go to Shepard himself maybe talk to him…”

“Simon, we can’t he is the head honcho. He is the one ordering this by Commander Graves too. So there isn’t any way around this.”

Simon scoffed. “Why have you given up? It’s like you don’t want to fight for this.”

You scoffed back and rose from the bed. “I have been dealing with this for two months now. We have been trying Simon. You think I want to leave them. To leave us?”

Simon stood there for a moment, emotions coming through that he never would think that he would have. All the things you both have been through. It all started because of pent up emotions that both of you didn’t know how to release besides having sex. Then came the attachments. Laughter. Jokes. Bantering. Hell even the fighting.

Simon stood there for another moment debating on just leaving the room. He doesn’t know how to deal with this situation. The more he stared at you the less he wanted to leave, he wanted more time.

“Maybe it won’t be forever ya know? Maybe it is just a train up for his team and that’s that.”

Simon knew better than to think like that, think that there is hope. You were always better than him in that aspect. Looking for the light at the end. Simon sighed and walked to you as he sat next to you. He started to lay down and guiding you down with him. “Maybe.” He mumbled.

You followed him down placing your head on his chest as he combed through your hair. You sighed as you thought about everything both of you have been through. You chuckled making Simon break a smile. “What is it?” He asked softly.

“Remember when I first started on the team and I thought you liked sugary coffee,” He groaned as he laughed a little bit more. “Then like 2 months later you finally broke and said that you only like tea and not the sugary shit.”

Simon nodded his head. “Blood hell pretty sure I gained a few pounds from just one cup,” You giggled as you looked up at him. “I won’t forget when the grenade landed next to you and Johnny during training. You tossing it to Johnny and him passing it back to you. Fumbling it like two blokes.”

You slapped his chest. “Hey! That wasn’t entirely my fault. The damn private didn’t pull the pin so I thought to give it to him. Well I remember beating you at sparring.”

Simon gave a fake shocked look. “Technically I did, it turned to the tie breaker”

You glared at him in curiosity before turning red. “The tie breaker doesn’t count.”

Simon gently grabbed your chin with his thumb and index. “If it wasn’t for the tie breaker I would be here with ya, love.”

You half smiled, tearing up again. “I will come back Si.”

Simon’s heart started to ache as he inhaled deeply. “And I’ll be waitin’.”

[dragonbe-writing]

Fallen Feathers

Fantasy AU ft. Knight!John Price

Summary: John Price is sent out by the king to hunt a monster. He wanders through the woods and finds a girl, living alone who wishes not to be seen.

This is Part 1 of a series

Word Count: ~2K

Author's Note: Hello! It's been a while. I've had this story idea typed up for nearly a year and just couldn't get comfortable with it. But I've been inspired by @a-small-writer-in-a-big-world 's fantasy AU, and decided just to post this and see what happens. Enjoy!

Sweat trickled down the back of his neck as he made it to the top of the hill. He looked out over the basin, the sun rising behind him and casting shade from the trees out onto the village below. The village- Edriel (Ee-drill), -was already bustling with life in the early hours. Farm-help out watering crops before the sun wilted them, mothers cooking breakfast for the little ones before their day of chores and play, priests walking through to say their blessings and good mornings. 

A world of intimacy, a world of peace. 

The very things John had sworn to protect, the very reason he was on this hill in the first place. He was a Commander, a third-rank Knight sent out to protect the village. His village. The place he’d grown up, the place he devoted his life and servitude to. 

A monster lived in the forest, he was told. The King ordered him to find and slay the monster. So, John turned away from the village, and headed into the forest.

He used his sword to cut through the thick brush, heading for… well, he wasn’t sure. The King wouldn’t give him a description of the monster- perhaps he didn’t have one. But if he didn’t have one, then was John just chasing a rumor? He had been under the King since he was a boy, it was a little insulting to be sent on a goose chase. 

Slice.

He was a Commander, for God’s sake! A third rank Knight- a position he had worked hard for. And here he was, running around the forest, looking for something that wasn’t even there. 

Slice.

This is a rookie’s task, he figured. Something to keep them busy, to test their loyalty.

Slice.

Perhaps the King was becoming senile in his old age. Or maybe John was just upset at the mission. He saw the way the other Commanders smirked when he was given his task. It was embarrassing, especially after a life of devotion. 

Slice.

The brush cleared away, revealing a secluded area that looked… cared for. He crouched under a branch, keeping his sword at the ready- just in case. A small stream ran near his feet, water as clear as he’d ever seen. There was a garden, and even a house. It looked similar to the Edriel houses, however it was poorly built. Things seemed to be added over time: patches to the roof, new ties for the wood. He studied it carefully, jumping when he heard a noise from inside the house. 

“Who’s there?” a woman asked from inside the house. She sounded human. 

“I am a Commander of Edriel’s army. I am coming in,” he said, sword raised as he opened the door. 

The house was small, just enough for one person. The curtain was closed, engulfing the house in darkness. He could tell she was in the corner, but he couldn’t see her. 

“Open the curtain,” he ordered, his voice coming out gruff. 

“...I’d rather not,” she said quietly, her body pressed against the walls. “I-I am horribly burned, I’d prefer not to be seen.” 

John lowered his sword, putting it back in its sheath. “Yes ma’am,” he said in a much softer voice. It was a foreign feeling. It had been ages since he had spoken so softly. “...what is your name?”

She went quiet, and it sounded as though she was shuffling on her feet. A wave of realization washed over him. He had broken into this poor woman’s home and demanded to see her. She was probably terrified. 

“I am John Price, a proud Knight of Edreil,” he started, hands behind his back as he respectfully tipped his head. After a few moments of silence, she spoke. 

“Adelaide,” she said quietly. 

“Adelaide… what?”

“Just Adelaide.”

A tense silence covered them. He cleared his throat, looking around the house. “..Okay, Adelaide. I apologize for my rude intrusion. If I may… why do you live out here?” he asked.

“People do not stare at me out here. It is peaceful,” she said. “What has you out here?”

He hesitated. His business was embarrassing, but if anyone knew where a monster was, it would be her. He took a breath. “The King has sent me out in search of a monster.”

“A monster?” she asked, voice pitching higher. 

“Do not worry,” he said quickly, raising a hand in front of him. “I will take care of it, you will be of no harm.”

“What does it look like?”

Another pause, this one longer. He let out a low sigh, his chainmail armor clinking as he raised a hand to run through his hair. 

“...You do not know?” 

“...no, ma’am.”

He swore he heard her snort. “What kind of king sends a knight out with no description?” 

He huffed, rolling his eyes. “You’d be a fool to talk poorly of the King in front of one of his knights,” he said dryly.

“Are you going to detain me?” she asked with a hint of amusement.

“I could,” he responded quickly, hand resting on the hilt of his sword. He was met with silence, to which he sighed. “Do you know of any monster living around here?” 

“...no. But, I will be weary,” she said to him, any details of emotion stripped from her voice.

He gave her a nod and turned to leave. “Good day, ma’am,” he said, closing the door to her home and going out the way he came. 

As he continued his search for the monster, he thought about her. Was she truly so badly burned that she must live alone? He didn’t remember a fire in the village. 

Perhaps she was from Pulsk? 

No, surely not. Pulsk was a lawless trading post crawling with criminals, monsters, witches- she would not have to move from there, her appearance would not be so bad there. So she must be from Edriel. But he had never heard of a fire that bad- he had never heard of a woman living outside the village. 

How long had she been alone? Who else knew she was there?

~~~~

John was sent out every day for the next week. It seemed he’d be doing this until the monster was found. On the fourth day, he stopped by her area again. 

“Miss?” he called out. He heard a door slam, and saw the curtain in her window close. 

“John?” she asked worriedly. 

“At your service. May I come in? Is it dark enough?” he asked, waiting by the door for her word. 

“Yes,” she called out after a moment. He opened the door, the smell of smoke filling his nose. She must’ve blown out a candle. She was in the same corner as last time. 

The light from the door fell on his face, lighting him up with a glow. He smiled at her, clearing his throat. He shifted a bit uncomfortably on his feet. “How is life out here?” he asked, eyes glancing around as he tried to figure out where to look. 

“Peaceful. Quiet, most days,” she replied. His lips pursed, eyebrows creasing. 

“…Would you like me to leave?” 

“Oh! Oh, I didn’t… I did not mean you,” she clarified quickly. He imagined she looked worried, and he smiled a bit to make her feel better. 

“So, other people visit?” he asked with a grin. 

“Well… no…” she murmured, and he chuckled. It was a deep timbre that reverberated through his chest. 

“Right,” he said. They fell into a silence, and he shifted again. It was difficult having a conversation with someone you couldn’t see. “…do you ever miss the village?” 

He heard ruffling- it must’ve been her clothes. “No. I miss the food sometimes,” she said, watching as he looked around her place. “There used to be a woman who sold pastries. I think about her quite often.” 

He lit up, eyes shining and lips stretched in a smile. “Mrs. Dresel?”

“Yes!” she said, the most enthusiastic he’s ever heard her. “Is she still alive? She was quite old when I last saw her…” 

“Yes, she’s still around. Still making those pastries, too,” he smiled fondly, thinking of them. “I have not visited her in a while,” he thought aloud. 

“Nor have I… for obvious reasons…” she said and the house creaked. John looked around at the roof worriedly. “Oh, it does that,” she said dismissively. 

“…did you build this yourself?” he asked her, eyes scanning over the structure. Pillars of wood, stuck together with what appeared to be mud. The roof was wood planks, with some more mud, and dried straw. Simple, but effective. 

“I did,” she replied, also now looking at it. 

“…it isn’t bad,” he said with a shrug. She let out a laugh. 

“You’re very polite.”

“I’m a Knight.”

She laughed, making his eyes tear away from the roof back to the corner she hid in. He could imagine her, standing there with bright eyes. It made him chuckle. 

“My house isn’t much, but it is mine,” she continued. 

“It’s lovely,” he replied, eyes going back to the structure. “Very impressive.” 

“Thank you,” she replied. “Any luck on finding your monster?” 

He groaned, rolling his eyes. His entire body tensed, lips pressed in a thin line. “No. I’m starting to think the King is playing a trick on me,” he remarked, chainmail clanking. 

“Perhaps he’s gone bad? Like a fruit?” she offered up, amusement clear in her voice. 

“Careful,” he warned, trying not to smirk. “I still work for the man- even if he is a bit mushy.” 

She laughed, a noise that made the corners of his lips turn up. He pictured her shoulders shaking, her smile wide and unapologetic. He wondered how often she laughed out here.

“You’re funny- for a Knight,” she poked, voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“D’you have a thing against Knights?” he asked, arms crossed over his chest but a smile on his lips. 

“They haven’t always been kind to me,” she remarked, making his mood change. His arms fell to his sides, and his eyebrows creased as his smile vanished. 

“Then you must’ve been doing something you weren’t supposed to,” he replied with a bit of an edge. A blanket of tension wrapped around her house. 

“…do you take me for a criminal, John?”

He thought in silence for a couple moments, before finally replying. “No, I suppose not,” he muttered, almost begrudgingly. Though, if a Knight had been rude to her, it was likely deserved. “Never mind.”

They fell into silence, the air thicker than the smoky scent of her home. She huffed a bit, more rustling heard. “Don’t you have a monster to catch?” she asked, voice carrying a sharpness to it. 

He cleared his throat, chainmail clunking as he readjusted himself. “Indeed. Have a good day, Miss Adelaide,” he said politely, before turning and leaving her house, door closing behind him. 

Perhaps she was a criminal. Why else would a knight have been rude to her? It would make sense, her living out here by herself. He would have to go through the old town logs, see if the name Adelaide appeared. Though, it might be difficult without a last name. 

He was ducked under the branch again, leaving the area she had claimed. He huffed, wiping the sweat on his neck with his handkerchief. 

What if she wasn’t a criminal? What if she was just horribly burned? He still could not remember a fire that bad- though, if he looked through the logs… 

He had taken his horse, Obsidian, with him today. He gently pet her nose, sighing softly. “C’mon, old girl,” he said, hoisting himself up onto the saddle. “Back to the castle- let’s get you an apple, hmm?” 

[ghosts-bandwagon]

Could you please do prompt 29 with a fem! reader trying to get price to try new things?

29. I’ll let you do anything, just touch me, please

You’ve been teasing him all god damn day and he was ready to go wild. You’d told him a few nights ago that you wanted to rile him up, to dedicate a day to driving him up a wall, edging him without even touching him. Said that you’d read somewhere it makes the sex more intense that way, and while yes, John is a patient man, when it comes to destroying you, that patience is out the window. But he loves you and he was curious as to how it’d play out, so he agreed to it with a kiss and a warning that he wouldn’t be held responsible for anything that happened once it came down to it.

You spent the morning with featherlight touches drifting lower and lower until you were right where he wanted you to be, but then you gave him a kiss and got out of bed. When he stood behind you and held you while you cooked, you moved back against him, rubbing against the tent in his sweats but when you heard him groan and move his hands to your hips, you pulled away and set breakfast on the table. All day, incidents like this. The almost touches, the promise of the fucking of a lifetime.

You were sat beside each other on the couch, idly watching a movie when he felt the tips of your fingers graze his thigh and he was rock hard in seconds. He couldn’t focus on anything at that point, breath coming in short pants,

“Sweetheart, please, I think that’s enough, don’t you?” He tried so fucking hard to keep his voice even, but it shook and you know you had him right where you wanted him,

“I thought you wanted to have a little fun.” You teased, jutting your lower lip in a mock pout,

“I’ll let you do anything, just touch me, please.” He pleaded, hands gripping the couch cushions, the fabric groaning and threatening to snap under the strength of his hold. He threw his head back with a sigh when you reached down his pants and pulled out his cock, angry and throbbing and so fucking painful, he hissed through his teeth when you gave his shaft a few pumps before sinking down on your knees between his legs,

“As you wish, sir.” You purred, licking a stripe from the base of his cock to the tip, swirling your tongue and giving a light suck, he bowed off the couch, already so embarrassingly close to the edge. He dared to peek down at you and saw the mischief dancing in your eyes.

Fuck it’s going to be a long night.

[aaaaaaaaaaaa-hey-its-jude-or-bee]

weird dream I had but here we go!’!!

Tw; character death.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Johnny and Simon were walking together, out. On a mission, the pair were walking together in silence, Johnny felt unsure, lost maybe, but more so.. like he’s done this before, he has sure, but, this area. This place. This time. It felt familiar. Nostalgic even, but in a.. uncomfortable, uneasy setting, Simon was ahead of him, they were walking on the grass, Johnny had heard price say before hand, something about Simon, “I will not let this happen again.” Price said, and Johnny didn’t get to ask what price meant by that before him and Simon went on the mission, so, Johnny was staying close by Simon at all times, the duo have been walking together in silence, sometimes talking to one another, but, Johnny couldn’t shake the feeling something bad was going to happen, and yet, it did. He turned and suddenly, Simon was gone, he was missing and he soon seen a bright light in the distance, he didn’t know what it was, it was different from what he had seen before, walking in darkness before suddenly the lights are shining brightly in the far distance, he cannot make out the sounds he’s hearing, but he goes to it, suddenly he sees an ambulance, and a crowd of people, and soon he sees price in the middle, with a medic there as well beside price, Johnny soon gets closer, but when he does, he sees Simon. Lying on the ground, in the middle, surrounded by everyone.

Johnnys eyes are wide, he’s confused, lost. The sounds in his ears are ringing, he cannot make out what anyone’s saying.

Until

He figures out.

Simon’s dead.

Simon.

Is.

Dead.

Johnny woke up again, he didn’t know what to think, about that same dream; nightmare. That same fucking nightmare he’s had for so long. He doesn’t know how he had lost Simon, how did he lose sight of Simon? He doesn’t understand. How can he fix it? He wants to fix it. But he cannot. He wishes he could. Each single time he passes that area he cannot get those images and those memories and sounds out of his head. He was walking along the sidewalk on the odd cold night, tears steaming down his face as he passes by the bench he and Simon used to sit at together, during the autumn season, and the winter season, it was oddly cold, it wasn’t supposed to be cold. But his body felt cold, as if someone was touching him, hugging him, holding him as he walked, the same cold touches are the same places Simon used to hold him. His hair was grown out too, he was in casual clothing, just casual. He was wearing Simon’s sweater, and baggy sweatpants. Simon’s ghost still followed him, it should’ve been fun to joke about that, because Simon is ghost, but. Simon is a ghost in reality. And Johnny will never get the chance to see him again. Not after they already lowered the body into the ground in the casket with Johnny’s sweater in the casket by Simon’s side. He will never get to see Simon again.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

[bigassmoonchild]

Now I'm curious on how you planned to off Simon like non Canon maple syrup can we get his death or HC on How everyone deals with fucker dying

(i never actually wrote out his death, but i sat for close to ten minutes debating on going thru with it. also MEDICAL INACCURACIES as well as DEATH)

you had helped sedate simon, ensuring the doctors could check on him and make him comfortable. you sat next to him, watching his peaceful face while waiting for the doctors to return with the news.

god, you’d missed simon. he was your alpha, your mate and now the father of your child. these last few months without him hurt beyond belief. the knock on the door brought you from your thoughts, turning to watch the doctor walk in.

she had a rough look on her face, brows slightly furrowed and she wasn’t making eye contact with you. clearing her throat, she gave you a quick glance before opening the file she had in hand. 

‘ma’am, we’ve got the brain scan results back,’ she whispered and your heart sunk. you knew the way she was speaking, you understood why she was talking so softly. you’d done this before, but you could never have assumed it hurt this much.

she gave you a frail smile. ‘i’m so sorry, but his brain is shutting down. he doesn’t have long left,’ she whispered, finally making eye contact with you. you had thought you’d felt nothing when you were told he was possibly dead, but now you truly felt nothing.

a strange sense of numbness spread through your body and your eyes shut. you could feel the tears, hot and wet, dripping down your cheeks. there was nothing left of simon, but a shell of the man he had once been.

your lover was gone, even if his body was still breathing right there. you were alone.

the doctor stood there as you blinked back into it. ‘could you bring his pack, please?’ you whispered hoarsely, feeling the burning of your nose with more tears to come.

how could you love a man who had continuously hurt you, someone who couldn’t even decipher his own emotions? because he was all you had.

you knew nothing you said or did would bring back your mate, but you could feel the pit in your stomach with the realization you’d have to inform them. price and soap, gaz and everyone he’d ever made a connection with.

the knock on the door jostled you from these thoughts and you saw them come in, moving around simons bed. ‘is he gonna be alright?’ price whispered and you shook your head.

‘we were too late,’ you whispered to the group, dropping your head down into your lap and letting the sobs out.

and for weeks you lay in your nest, surrounded by the slowly fading scent of simon. surrounded by all the memories you would never have with him, left alone to raise the pup.

the pack left you alone to grieve. all of you were grieving in your own way. price buried his sorrow with simon, leaving barely enough to get by with his own omega and pups.

gaz found himself training harder and harder. he wanted to be better, faster. make sure he knew exactly what to do in any scenario. he worked himself thin trying to just be better.

soap was hit almost as hard as you, trying to find ways to have corrected what happened. he worked himself to the bone trying to figure out what he could’ve done different to save simon. he spent countless days and nights trying to fix his wrongs but he couldn’t.

he never would’ve been able to do anything different, he hadn’t even been on the mission.

it was raining when his funeral was held. price and the rest of the pack stood around you as you watched your lover, your mate be lowered into the ground. you’d bought a beautiful headstone, it stood tall, with just the same amount of broodiness that simon would carry himself with.

you’d brought flowers of all kind, laying them around his now covered casket as a final goodbye. kissing his headstone, you stood and allowed price and the others to help you home.

for some time after his death, you’d wished for a boy. hoping without hope that he would grow to be similar to his father, but without the same level of emotional constipation his father had.

and it was soap who took to helping you as the months wore on, soap who took you just after your birth to introduce your pup to simon. feeling the love wash over you, even through the pain when you’d realized alpha wasn’t there.

he would never see any of the firsts or lasts.

that grave plot was where your pup introduced you to their own, laying fresh flowers where they had died. and lying just under the newest member of the family, you and simon laid together.

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Beelzebub come to God killer cat who is in the domain that no one in the underworld dear to come, but he dose and this area belongs to the cat who is in one of the many forms of the head of the dog and body of a skeletal figured and asked about the cursed he have

And cat just said " Oh yeah you curse alright but not from me as I just do my own things, but seem you are cursed since if your birth by someone else, I can reverse it but you'll have to be bound in a new curse "

-Throughout Valhalla were quiet areas, mostly in the underworld, where others would dare not come, which gave you the perfect place to get away from everyone and just relax and be alone for a while.

-It also gave you an opportunity to play around with your alternative forms, not your cat-like form or your humanoid form, as you could change into anything you wanted.

-You heard footsteps approaching you from behind as you had the body of an unknown creature, but only the skeleton, tall and foreboding, with the head of a dog with large fangs and bright glowing eyes.

-Nobody came to this section of the underworld, due to dark curses that supposedly loomed there, there weren’t, at least not anymore, as curses meant nothing, they were just as easy to destroy as anything else.

-To hear footsteps was surprising enough, but when you saw who approached, you couldn’t help but grin, baring your abnormally long teeth as you lowered your head, leaning over Beelzebub who didn’t look frightened in the least.

-You chuckled, “You are either very bold or very foolish to come here, young one. To what do I owe your visit?” he bowed his head to you, being respectful, “I saw how easily you took care of those curses that Hades asked you to get rid of. I came to ask for your help.”

-You knew the curse that he was speaking of, and your body shrunk, to not be looming over him, but remained in the unsettling, at least to others, form you were now in.

-You leaned in close and inhaled his scent, smelling the curse, “Ahh- you were cursed by one before you were even born, and you have carried that curse for so long, and lost so much to it. It is not one of my curses but I can remove it, for a price.”

-Beelzebub’s eyes went wide, hearing this information, hearing there was a chance to be finally rid of this curse, “What is the price?” he knew not to be too excited, as while you had not shown your cruel side to anyone in Valhalla, besides scaring them a little, he needed to be careful.

-You pointed a bony finger at his chest, “The curse is a part of you, without it, you will die. I know that is what you wish for and what that succubus’ curse aims to prevent until there is one strong enough to kill you, curse and all. I will not kill you, as it is not your fate to die by my hand, but I can remove this curse, but another will take its place. I will leave the choice in your hands, young one, it is a risk of your own choosing.”

-Beelzebub hesitated in accepting immediately before he spoke, “May I ask what kind of curse you would replace my own with, should I decide to go through with it?” Your hand lifted to his cheek, stroking gently, bone fingers against his skin, “Having lived with a curse for so long and wishing for death- what a sad little god you are. The curse will be as strong as the one you hold now, but you will be able to control it except for one week twice a year.”

-You didn’t give him an outright answer, giving only a vague idea before he took your hand, immediately accepting.

-You bared your teeth in another smile as you shook his hand and instantly his world spun before everything went dark.

-When Beelzebub awoke next, he was in his bed, you sitting on his chest in your cat form, looking amused before he sat up, feeling tired before he looked at his hands, seeing nothing different.

-When he entered the bathroom to see if there were any physical changes, he stomped back out, holding a long black tail and pointing at the fluffy black cat ears on top of his head as his face was burning bright red, “What is this?!”

-You licked your paw, not at all bothered, “Your new curse! You now share your body with an ancient cat demon, and it gave you a tail, fangs, claws, and cat like ears.” Beelzebub calmed, hearing this, realizing a cat demon would be better than Satan.

-He thanked you for this kindness, as he felt lighter, freer before he paused, “Wait- so what are the two weeks a year that I won’t be able to control this curse?”

-You said your answer like it was no big deal, “Oh- you’ll go into heat twice a year and you will need someone to *explicit* your *explicit* and *explicit-explicit-explicit* you at least twice a day for a whole week to keep you under control or you’ll go crazy.”

-Beelzebub was white, collapsing to his knees in shock, hearing of his new fate as you licked your paw, “Do you have someone who can do that for you?” he didn’t answer, instead falling to his side, his eyes spinning as his processed this new curse.

-What has he done to himself?