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ms-demeanor · 8 months ago

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Friends, I think we need to talk about Covid.

I want to get a few caveats out there before I start:

I am aware that there are people who need to exercise extreme caution about Covid; I live with someone who has two solid organ transplants and who is at the most immune compromised level of immune compromised. *I* have to be extremely cautious about covid.

Masking does prevent a certain level of transmission, and people who think they may have covid should mask and people who are concerned that they may be at high risk for covid should mask.

You should be vaccinated and boosted with the most recent vaccines that are available to you; covid is highly transmissible and very serious, you do not want to get covid and if you do get covid you don't want it to be severe and if you do get covid you don't want to give someone else covid and up-to-date vaccinations are the best way to reduce transmission and help to prevent severe cases of Covid.

We should be testing before going to any gatherings, and informing people if we test positive after gatherings, and testing if we suspect we have been exposed.

It is bullshit that there aren't good protections for workers who have covid; you should not be expected to go to work when you are testing positive

It is bullshit that people who are testing positive are not isolating for other reasons; if you have Covid you should not be going out and exposing other people to it even if you are experiencing mild symptoms or no symptoms.

We do need better ventilation systems for many kinds of spaces. Schools need better ventilation, restaurants need better ventilation, doctor's offices and hospitals and office buildings need better ventilation and better ventilation can reduce covid transmission.

I want to make it clear that Covid is real and there are real steps that individuals and systems can take to prevent transmission, and that there are systems that are exerting pressures that needlessly expose people to covid (the fact that you can lose your job if you don't come in when you're testing positive, mainly; also the fact that covid rapid tests should be ubiquitous and cheap/free and are not).

All of that being said: I'm seeing some posts circulating about how we're at an extremely high level of transmission and the REAL pandemic is being hidden from us and, friends, I'm pretty sure that is just incorrect and we're spreading misinformation.

I'm thinking of this video in particular, in which the claim is made that "your mystery illness is covid" in spite of negative tests. The guy in the video says that there's nothing else that millions of people could be getting a day, and that he predicted this because a wastewater spike in December meant that there was a huge spike in cases.

I've also seen people saying that deaths are where they were in 2021-2022, and that we're still at "a 9/11 a week" of excess deaths and friends, I'm not seeing great evidence for any of these claims.

I know that we (in the US, which is where the numbers I'm going to be citing are from) feel abandoned by the CDC and the fact that tracking cut off in May of 2023. But that only cut off for the federal tracking.

I live in LA county and LA county sure as shit is still tracking Covid.

If you want a clearer picture, you can see the daily case count over time compared to the daily death count:

Okay, you might say, but that's just LA.

Alright, so here's Detroit:

Right, but maybe that's CDC data and you don't trust the CDC at this point.

Okay, here's fatalities in New York tracked through New York's state data collection:

It's harder to toggle around the site for South Dakota, but you can compare their cases and hospitalizations and deaths for early 2022

To cases and hospitalizations and deaths from early 2024

And see that there's really no comparison.

Okay, you might say, but people are testing less. If they're testing less of course we're not seeing spikes, and they're testing less because fewer tests are available.

Alright, people are definitely testing less than they were in 2021 and 2022. Hospitalization for Covid is probably the most clear metric because you know those people have covid for sure, the couldn't not test for it.

Here are hospitalizations over time for LA:

Here are hospitalizations over time for New York:

As vaccination rates have gone up, cases, deaths, and hospitalizations have gone down. It IS clear that there are case spikes in the winter, when it is cold and people are indoors in poorly ventilated spaces and people are more susceptible to respiratory infections as a result of cold air weakening the protection offered by our mucous membranes, and that is something that we will have to take precautions about for the forseeable future, just as we should have always been taking similar precautions during flu season.

So I want to go point-by-point through some of the arguments made in that video because I'm seeing a bunch of people talking about how "THEY" don't want you to know about the virus surge and buds that is just straight up conspiracism.

So okay, first off, most of what that video is based on is spikes in wastewater data, not spikes in cases. This is because people don't trust CDC data on cases, but I'd say to maybe check out your regional data on cases. I don't actually trust the CDC that much, but I know people who do tracking of hospitalizations in LA county, I trust them a lot more. Wastewater data does correlate with increases in cases, but this "second largest spike of the entire pandemic" thing is misleading; wastewater reporting is pretty highly variable and you can't just accept that a large spike in covid in wastewater means that we're in just as bad a place in the pandemic as we were in 2022. We simply have not seen the surge of hospitalizations and deaths that we would expect to see in the weeks following that spike in wastewater data if wastewater data was reflective of community transmission.

The next claim is that "there is nothing else that is infecting millions of people a day" and covid isn't doing that either. The highest daily case rates were in January of 2021 and they were in the 865k a day range, which is ridiculously high but isn't millions of cases a day.

But what we can see is that when people are tested by their doctors for Covid, RSV, and the Flu, more tests are coming back positive for the Flu. Covid causes more hospitalizations than the other two illnesses, but to be honest what the people in the video are describing - lightheadedness, dizziness, exhaustion - just sound like pretty standard symptoms of everything from covid to the cold to allergies. There are lots of things your mystery illness could be.

The video goes on to talk about the fact that people aren't testing, and why their tests may be coming back negative and I'd like to point out that the same things are all true of Flu or RSV tests. People might be getting tested too early or too late; getting a negative test for the flu isn't a good reason to assume you've got covid, getting a negative test for covid isn't a good reason to assume you've got the flu, and testing for viruses as a whole is imperfect. There are hundreds of viruses that could be the common cold; there are multiple viruses that can cause bronchitis; there are multiple viruses that can cause pneumonia, and you're not going to test for all of these things the moment you start feeling sick.

He then recommends testing for multiple days if you have symptoms and haven't had a positive test (fine) and talks about the location of the tests (less fine). Don't use your rapid tests to swab your throat or cheek unless it specifically says that they are designed to do so. Test based on the instructions in the packet.

He points out that the tests probably still pick up on the virus because they're not testing for the spike protein, they're testing for the RNA (good info!)

The video then discusses something that I think is really key to this paranoia about the "mystery illnesses" - he talks about how covid changes and weakens your immune system (a statement that should come with many caveats about severity and vulnerability and that we are still researching that) and then says that it makes you more susceptible to strep or mono and that "things that used to clear in a day or two now hit you really hard."

And that's where I think this anxiety is coming from.

Strep throat lasts anywhere from three days to a week. A cold takes about a week to clear. The flu lasts about a week and can knock you on your ass with exhaustion for weeks depending on how bad you get it. Did you get a cough with your cold? Expect that to take anywhere from three to eight weeks to clear up.

I think that people are thinking "i got a bad virus and felt really sick for a week and haven't gotten my energy back" but that just sounds like a bad cold. That sounds like a potent allergy attack. That doesn't even sound like a bad flu (I got a bad flu in 2009 and thought i was going to straight-up die I had a fever of 103+ for three days and felt like shit for three days on either side of that and took six weeks to feel more like myself again).

Getting sick sucks. It really, really sucks. But if you're getting sick and you're testing for covid and it's coming back negative after you tested a few times, it's almost certainly not covid.

The video then says "until someone provides evidence that it's not covid, it should be assumed to be covid because we have record levels of covid it's that simple" but that's not simple. We don't have record levels of covid and he hasn't proved it. We have record high levels of wastewater reports of covid, which correlates with covid cases but the spike in wastewater noted in december didn't see a spike with a corresponding magnitude of cases in terms of either hospitalizations or deaths, which is what we'd have seen if we had actual record numbers of covid.

He says that if you want to ignore this, you'll get sick with covid, and that about 30-40% of the US just got sick with covid in the last four months (which is a RIDICULOUSLY unevidenced claim).

He says that we need to create a new normal that takes covid into account, which means masking more often and testing more often and making choices about risk-avoidant behaviors.

Now, I don't disagree with that last statement, but he prefaces the statement with "it doesn't necessarily mean lockdown" and that's where I think the alarmism and paranoia is really visible here. We are so, so far away from "lockdown" type levels that it's absurd to discuss lockdown here.

What I'm seeing right now is people who are chronically ill, people who are immune compromised, and people who are experiencing long covid (which may not be distinct from other post-viral syndromes from severe cases of flu, etc, but which may be more severe or more notable because of the prevalence of covid) are talking about feeling abandoned and attacked and left behind by society because covid is still out there, and still at extremely high levels.

I am seeing people who feel abandoned and attacked because the lgbtq+ events they are attending don't require masking. I am seeing people who are claiming that it is eugenicist that their schools don't have a negative test policy anymore.

And this comes together into two really disconcerting trends that I've been observing online for a while.

The claim that the pandemic is still as bad as it's ever been and in fact may be worse but we can't know that because "they" (the CDC, the government, capitalist institutions that want you back in the office, the university industrial complex that wants your dorm room dollars) are covering up the numbers and

Significant grievance at the fact that people are acting like number one is not true and are putting you at risk either out of thoughtlessness (because they don't realize they're putting you at risk) or malice (because they don't care if the sick die).

And those things are a recipe for disaster.

I think I've pretty robustly addressed point one; I don't think that there's good evidence that there's a secretly awful surge of covid that nobody is talking about. I think that there are some people who are being alarmist about covid who are basing all of their concern on wastewater numbers that have not held up as the harbinger of a massive wave of infections.

So let's talk about point number two and JK Rowling.

Barnes and Noble is not attacking you when it puts up a Hogwarts Castle display in the lobby. Your favorite youtuber isn't trying to hurt you when they offhandedly mention Harry Potter.

If you let every mention of Harry Potter or every person who enjoys that media franchise wound you, you are going to spend a lot of your time wounded.

People are not liking Harry Potter at you.

Okay.

People are also not not wearing masks at you.

You may be part of a minority group that experiences the potential for outsized harm as a result of majority groups engaging in perfectly reasonable behaviors.

There are kind, well-meaning, sensible people who go out every day and do something that may cause you harm and it's not because they want to hurt you or they don't care about whether you live or die, it is because they are making their own risk assessments based on their own lives and making the very reasonable assumption that people who are more concerned about covid than they are will take precautions to keep themselves safe.

We are not at a place in the pandemic where it is sensible to expect people with no symptoms of illness to mask in public as a matter of course or to present evidence of a recent negative test when entering a public building in their day-to-day life.

I think now is a really good time to sit down and ask yourself how you expect things to be with covid as an endemic part of our viral ecosystem. I think now is a good time to ask yourself what risk realistically looks like for you and for people who are unlike you. I think now is a good time to consider what would feel "safe" for you and how you could accomplish feeling safe as you navigate the world.

I'm probably going to continue masking in most indoor spaces for years. Maybe forever. There are accommodations that SHOULD be afforded to people who have to take more precautions than others (remote learning, remote visits, remote work, etc.), and we should demand those kinds of accommodations.

But it is going to poison you from the inside out if you are perpetually angry that people who don't have the same medical limitations as you are happy that they get to go shopping with their faces uncovered.

So now I want to talk to you about my father in law.

My father in law had a bone marrow transplant in 2015. That's the most immune compromised you can get without having your organs swapped out.

The care sheet for him after the transplant was a little overwhelming. The list of foods he couldn't eat was intimidating and the limitations on where he could go was depressing. It cautioned against going to large events, it recommended outdoor gatherings where possible but only if he could avoid sunlight and was somewhere with no history of valley fever. It said that he should wear masks indoors any time he was someplace with poor ventilation and that he should avoid contact with anyone who had an illness of any kind, taking special note to avoid children and anyone recently vaccinated for measles.

It was, in short, pretty much what someone immune compromised would need to do to try to avoid a viral infection. Sensible. Reasonable. Wash your hands and social distance; wear masks in sensitive contexts and don't spend time in enclosed places with people who have a communicable illness.

This is what life was always going to be like for people who are severely immune compromised, and it was always going to be incumbent upon the person with the illness to figure out how to operate in a society that is not built with them in mind.

It is not the job of every parent I encounter to tell me whether their child has been vaccinated against measles or chicken pox in the last three months. That isn't something that people need to do as part of their everyday life. However it IS my responsibility to check with the parents I'm hanging out with whether their children have been vaccinated against measles or chicken pox in the last three months so I know if it's safe for my immune compromised spouse to be around them.

If you want an environment in which you feel safe from covid, at this point in the pandemic (when the virus is endemic and not spreading rapidly as far as we can see from case counts) it is your responsibility to take the steps necessary to make you feel safe. Some of those steps will involve advocating for safety improvements in public spaces (again, indoor ventilation needs to be better and I'm personally pretty extreme about vaccination requirements; these are things we should be discussing in our school board meetings and at our workplaces), some of those steps will involve advocating for worker protections, guaranteed sick time, and the right to healthcare. But some of the things you're going to need to do to feel safe are going to come down to you.

If you are concerned about communicable diseases you have to be realistic about the fact that our society doesn't go out of its way to prevent communicable diseases - norovirus among food service workers pre-pandemic is pretty clear evidence of that. You are going to have to be proactive about your safety rather than expecting the world to act like Covid is at 2021-2022 levels when it is measurably not.

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fmhobeus · 9 months ago

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jjk men and their red flags

a/n: i'm feeling problematic :> tell me what u think (agree/disagree/add more?) this is all for shits n giggles !! non sorcerer au kinda

kento nanami — (over)protective

but like... to the point where it feels like he's treating you like a child! he doesnt like to see you sweat or even work at all for that matter. he loves it when you cook but has bought covers for all the knifes. if he sees a burn on your hand get ready for a 10 minute long lecture. if you accidentally fall he wont let you get up for atleast 3 days to help you ""heal."" it's almost like he doesnt trust you to take care of yourself :') he probably has like 3 separate first-aid kits everywhere.

suguru geto — emotionally unavailable

i feel like this is explainable to his character (sort of.) i dont think that he'd make you feel isolated at all, he's be an amazing listener and probably memorizes every word you say. he listens to you rant and even trauma dump with insane patience. but at some point it feels as though you hardly know him. he's talk to you a lot but very little of it is personal and you hardly know what he's thinking because his ass is not tell you. he also unintentionally distances himself from people from time to time. this applies to you too and you can feel him getting emotionally distant sometimes. it isnt something he does knowingly but it sure ass hell bothers you.

satoru gojo — very clingy and needy

this nigga. he is so utterly clingy. and at first it's perfectly fine, even appreciated by you. you still love him like crazy of course but it is just overwhelming. he is like a child most of the time, he need you around him and is always accompanying you wherever you go, and he expects you to do the same. he also doesn't believe in "me time" because why would you feel better when you're away from him: (? want to hang out with your friends? what do you need them for: (? he's right there. he is also physically incapable of listening but boy is he good at making up.

toji fushiguro — controlling

he is so controlling omfg. it's usually subtle but sometimes he will outright just say no to things he doesnt like, not caring if you like them. it gets to the point where he actually starts to change your personality. he is very caring and that's his justification for this typa stuff. it is usually harmless stuff but he gets paranoid often. he doesnt let you wear miniskirts out if you're not with him. he doesn't let you befriend people he thinks are into you. he barely lets you buy stuff on your own, he usually gifts you whatever it is youre into at that moment. borderline turned on by fear and you being dependent on him.

choso kamo — has no social life outside you

pretty self explanatory. he doesnt have many friends outside you and isn't interesting in making them either. total loser. so taking him out to events, he probably doesnt interact much and chooses to look at you the entire time, which annoys your friends. he answers their questions pretty bluntly. he's never down to have people over and lowkey hates when you are.

hiromi higuruma — workaholic

also self explanatory. he leaves early, comes home late. you barely see him on the weekdays. sometimes he goes as far as ignoring your calls when in between cases. he calls you periodically but has to have an alarm set to remind him. he loves you very very deeply but is just used to working non stop T_T

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teojira · 6 months ago

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Scar x fem! Reader/Rover from Wuthering Waves where Reader is trying to get Yangyang back, and Scar offers to give her back for a kiss from reader 🫦

[What's the harm?] [Scar/reader drabble]

Summary: Scar strikes a deal with you, for both your and Yangyang's freedom. (You are Rover in this!)

Word count: 1k+ (I got POSSESSED)

Pronouns: She/her implied

Warnings: Possibly OOC but the game is 3 days old, have mercy. Slightly nsfw! Scar is down bad. You're Rover in this and you're also down bad.

A/N: I want him so bad, the constant flirting with MC? The way his eyes soften at her? I'm in love with him so bad.

“Where is she?” He's already isolated you for Yangyang, bringing you into his domain.

It's unnerving, standing alone with a man you've seen cause so much trouble, someone who constantly is trying to get into your head.

The comments he makes, there are so many of them and they just keep coming.

Is he lying about wanting you? Lying about wanting your trust? Is this just a ploy to get you on his side?

You're not sure, your brain can't deny that this is a trap, he trapped you, but your brain can't deny that he's looking at you with a soft gaze that you're sure he's never graced another human with. He looks like he simultaneously wants to eat you alive and protect you like he claims.

Scar himself stands a few feet away, arms crossed as his eyes trail along your form, starting from your feet, lingering a bit on your chest until finally meeting your eyes. You swear you can see a twinkle in his eye, and he doesn't even remotely try and hide the way he licks his lips at you, a predator grin making it's way on his handsome face.

“Oh come on Rover, she'll be fine~”

“I'm not doing this with you, give her back.” You steel yourself, hand resting on the scabbard of your sword, ready for him to attack.

To your surprise, he knocks his head back and laughs, shaking his head, the movement jostling his locks. He turns back to you, moving closer, step by step.

“Look at that, that fire in your eye is mesmerizing Rover, you're that concerned with a woman who only wants to use you?” He coos, voice mimicking how an adult talks to a child and you feel small, taking a small step back but the distance still closes, he's not letting you get away.

“Stop. I'm not playing this game with you Scar, let me go and give Yangyang back.” You hate how your voice trembles a bit, hating yourself for his presence having such an effect on you.

“Yangyang This, Yangyang that, what about me my dear? Why don't you say my name like you do hers? With that fondness.” He glowers, finally closing the distance, stepping into your personal bubble and cornering you against a large rock.

“What are you even-” You can't help the flush that rushes to your face, your head dizzy at the proximity. The body heat radiating off of him is jarring, but not as jarring as his smell. He smells of ash and burnt wood, and a mix of his own natural scent and it feels warm and safe. For the first time since you've woken up, you feel protected, despite him being the enemy. The same one who the nation you're supposed to protect hates.

It's so stupid, it's so stupid.

"Say my name.” He's leaning down now, was he always this tall?

“W-” He cuts you off, grabbing your jaw with one hand, squeezing your cheeks ever so slightly, only releasing to brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Say it, Rover.” His face is so fucking close, you can feel his breath tickling your face.

"Scar." You breathe out, your head spinning, this is wrong, you shouldn't have let him get this close, you need to get out and find Yangyang, what the fuck are you doing?

"Give me what I want, and I'll let you both go." He murmurs, eyes zeroed in on yours.

His heterochromatic eyes are beautiful already, but the way they're so dilated, barely any of his color is shown.

"I'm not following."

"Just a kiss my dear, just one."

"How do I know you're gonna keep your word?"

"You don't, but I don't think that's gonna stop you." He coos again, moving to trail one of his hands down your back, pushing you closer to his body, your chests both heaving and resting on one another.

He's right, as of right now, there is absolutely nothing that will stop you from this, from giving in just this once.

You lean in first, shutting your eyes tight.

It's Scar who does the rest, crashing into you like a wave, trying to consume you.

He kisses you like you're long lost lovers, pouring so much passion into the kiss that you can't ever hope to return, so when he pushes you up against the rock, you know this'll be a reoccurring occurrence. It's addicting, the feeling of his lips finally on yours, all the tension finally reaching a climax. His tongue is damn near down your throat, swallowing down your moans as much as he could, his hands gripping your hips so hard, you wouldn't be surprised if it left a mark later (a small part of you hope he does).

It takes everything in your power to pull away, but the second you do, he moves to start licking at your neck, you can feel his canines run along a specific patch of skin that makes your legs weak. You place a hand on his chest, trying to gently push him away.and when that doesn't work, you bring your other hand up to run your fingers through his locks and tug him away.

The groan he lets out is downright sinful. He looks up at you, his expression as if he just fucked you within an inch of your life, his hair mussed, his lips glossy from your combined spit.

"Was that good enough?"

"Oh honey, you're lucky I don't take you right here. But I am a man of my word." He hums, licking his lips and letting out a snicker. With a shocking gentleness, he pecks your lips one last time.

"Wake up now."

"Rover! Rover! Are you okay?" Yangyang has your head on her lap, one of her palms on your forehead, feeling the warmth there.

All you can do is groan and bring a hand to your face, covering your cheeks.

"What'd he do to you in there?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰ��ʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ᴛᴏ ʜᴇᴀʀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴏᴏɴ!

#this took on a life of its own hi everyone (screams)#wuthering waves x reader #scar x reader #wuthering waves scar #wuthering waves #wuthering waves scar x reader #wuwa scar #wuwa #teddy loves waves ☆

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drgnflyteabox · 4 months ago

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mdni - the 141 find a cozy place to stay during an op (that's definitely all that happens). implied fat!reader

(dubcon, poly, gangbang, anal, price is in charge of everyone<3)

So blizzards can happen in the blink of an eye on high, isolated mountains, right?

And the 141 have done missions in rural places, snowy places, mountainous places, right?

And there are tons of tiny little isolated towns, all over the world, built around these mountains for one reason or another - coal mining, logging, etc.

Now imagine the 141 on a mission, somewhere cold, somewhere isolated, a place that feels like the edge of the world. Desolate.

Now imagine the 141 seeing, in the near distance, a winking pale orange light. It's a good enough place as any to approach - it isn't safe to be caught in this blizzard, anyhow. Even with their gear, the safehouse is still an hour away and the snowfall seems historic...

Now imagine you're sitting in your family home, all alone, going a little crazy with cabin fever. Your woodstove is burning hot, but you're still cuddled up in knits and a thermal underneath. You're making stew for dinner with root vegetables from the basement cellar, it's bubbling and softening for you while you crochet, trying to keep your mind off the monumental shoveling task you'll have to deal with tomorrow

Until there's a knock on the door.

"Hello ma'am, I'm just wondering if me and my friends here could rest until it's safe to continue our hike?" (I love the way gaz says ma'am)

Hike? Nobody hikes up here - you've only ever seen a couple tourists in your life, thrill seeking ice climbers who came and went.

And they certainly weren't dressed in snow camo, hiding guns behind their backs.

But you were raised right, and the man at the door has kind eyes - he's handsome, too, but you'd never say it out loud. Gaz pushes the door further in when you tentatively open it, and in comes barreling three more massive men, their boots stomping and leaving a mess.

Soap smells the stew on the stove and beelines for it, lifting his helmet to inhale deeply.

Ghost sweeps the room like it might be hiding an enemy somewhere- even though it's one room total, the stove in the middle, separating the kitchen and your bed.

Price approaches you all apologetic, apologizing for "these ruffians", holding his camo helmet to his gut like it's formalwear. "Apologies, sweetheart, we weren't expecting the weather to turn on us."

You aren't quite sure how you end up sitting on prices lap, naked except for your socks, while he squeezes your stomach and grunts in your ear not to be shy when putting your weight on him. His other hand is cupped over your pussy, murming thank yous for feeding his men.

They're eating your stew, stripped out of gear, cocks tented in their white cargos.

"We're a gaggle of lucky boys, eh?" Soap says. "Nice, cozy, soft girl. Warm cabin. A man could get used to this."

You wind up pressed down on your mattress, hands held behind you by one man while another fucks you hard, spurred on by price behind them. At first, it's johnny, whining high in his throat while price guides his hips and gaz holds your arms by your head. "Need to thank her proper, boy." The obvious authority in prices voice makes your pussy clench around him, and he shakes over you, trying hard not to come too early.

Gaz reaches down from where he's holding your arms, pinching your clit until you buck against Johnny and squirt around him.

Then it's gaz, who lifts your legs and squeezes your big thighs, locking eyes with ghost. He's steady, only breaking composure when Simon praises him. "Thats a lad. Good, just like that, Kyle." He's the first to ever make you come from penetration alone, hips moving in a way that makes your abdomen tighten and tighten and tighten until you reach the longest orgasm of your life, nearly crying with how intense it feels.

Price ends up flipping you over - nudging you up on your hands and knees, the bed creaking with the combined weight of he and his lieutenant taking their places in front and behind you.

Simon slips his cock in your mouth, staring down at you through the balaclava. You can barely make out a thick scar, one that looks like it might go through his whole face. You lose focus when price pushes his fingers in your ass, though, and you squeal.

There's no where to run except further down simons cock, though, where you gag, spit running all down your chest onto the bed.

"Shh, sh," Price rubs your flank like you're a spooked animal. He squeezes the ample flesh of your asscheek appreciatively. "Jus wanna give your poor pussy a break, aye? I reckon she's tired,"

He pushes into you impatiently and it burns a little, but he soothes it with a palm over your soft, sore cunt. Rubs a thumb over your clit slowly, jostling you back and forth over simons cock.

You come once more before the night is over, tears finally running down your cheeks, mixing with your saliva, with simons come. It's a painful orgasm, wrenched from you - but that makes it all the sweeter.

They wipe you down and spoon feed you more stew, after, to recover your energy :') price has the boys tidy their boot tracks and put away leftovers while he and Simon hold you from both sides. They can barely fit with you on your bed, but tucked in like this - on top of your furs, naked as the day you were born, praised for your soft body and "What a good girl you are, babydoll."

Sigh

I'm sure this idea has probably been written but I was listening to this and couldn't stop imagining it lmfao

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tbaluver · 2 months ago

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Can you do the boys with a mentally unwell reader? Like she has depression, ocd, or anxiety that she takes medication for?

S/O Who Faces Mental Illness- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader tags: ( for all ) mentioning of depression/ depressive episodes, ocd rituals, anxiety/ social anxiety a/n: hi anonnie ! ♡⸜(˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝ sorry this took awhile, this was sitting in my drafts and i would keep coming back to it. i just wanted to make sure this topic is handled with care. i know that everyone has different types of depression, anxiety, and ocd so i wrote the ones that i'm familar with and gone through. i hope this was okay lmk ! ̤̮

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Xavier:

Xavier has always been such an attentive lover to you and he’s grown increasingly worried as he observed your unhealthy habits. He notices how you spend more time in bed than usual, longer than he would stay in bed. How you seem disinterested in eating, even if it were foods you typically enjoyed. Noticing how these impacts have affected you, he has made the effort to educate himself better on what you’re going through to understand and support you better.

If you were taking any medications, he'll read the entire packet that came with it or look up as much information he can online. He'll try to remember all the side effects that comes with it and makes sure to check up on you whenever you take them.

He notices when your energy plummets so it’s his duty to take care of you. He tries to make everything easy for you. He’ll make sure to tuck both of you in bed, turning off the lights when you both get ready, making sure to have food delivered when you wake up. Xavier encourages you to take a walk outside with him, helping you get some fresh air and encouraging you to step out of bed. He’ll hold your hand the entire time.

Distractions were one of the ways he could get your mind off any anxious thoughts or from any of your OCD rituals. He'll have a list of your favorite things to do and see if it helps. He'll stay with you in bed all day if that's what you need and wouldn't let you isolate yourself. Will also build a fort to cuddle you up in and have you tucked in his arms.

Anytime you two were out and you started to feel drained, then he'll take you back home. You two can stay in and cuddle.

He never pushes you beyond your comfort levels. If there was any situation where you started to feel uncomfortable, then he'll lead the situation and you somewhere else that sets you more at ease.

Zayne:

Zayne is no stranger to the topics of mental illness. He’s gone through extensive studies and many clinical experiences with patients. But with you, it's different. Your struggles aren’t just a clinical case to him, they’re personal. He’s acutely attuned to subtle changes of your mood and actions. He notices the quiet shifts in your expressions, or the way your eyes dull and lose their sparkle. Even though it’s hard to read through his expressions, it truly does hurt him to see you suffer. Your internal pain that you battle inside hurts him more than words can convey.

If you were to go through a depressive episode and you feel like you can’t do everything you need, then Zayne has no problem doing the extra housework or helping you with your physical health. He would reassure you to not feel guilty even though he’s busy with his work or any paperwork's. You have done so much as a loving partner to him and he will always return the favor for you.

He’ll help you shower and dress you up. He'll make sure to brush your hair gently and that you brush your teeth. He’ll even make sure you eat enough and he’ll praise you for taking every bites.

He’s always there for you. Even if he was in the middle of work, he would remind you to never hesitate to reach out whenever you feel isolated or just needed to vent, anything. Spam him, leave voice messages- he’ll read every word and listen to each message and reply with care. No matter how busy he might be, he’ll find a way to call you as soon as he can. He wants to make sure you’re okay and to remind you that you’re never alone, even when he’s away. Your well-being matters so deeply to him that he’s committed to be there for you in every possible way.

He'll keep note of all the side effects you've experienced with your medications, so he's aware of the potential issues that might arise when you take them. Will send you texts reminding you to take your meds at the right time and to make sure you eat before you take them so you don’t get nauseous.

He’s a very attentive and caring partner, he pays close attention to the triggers of your OCD and observes the coping mechanisms you have. He notices your struggle with hand washing compulsions and understands how these rituals can take a toll on you. He’ll try to help you by pointing out that excessive hand washing can actually be harmful, as it washes away the beneficial ones that your body needs.

He'll be very reassuring when you feel the need to constantly check up on things. He won't judge you for it but instead he'll offer to check on it himself and reassure you that everything is okay.

It wouldn’t be new to him to avoid places that were crowded or super noisy. He would know where all the less crowded and quiet places are. At this point, he already had taken the time to understand your triggers and sources of anxiety. He just wanted to be well-informed so he can help you avoid these situations and provide the support and care you need.

If you were to experience an anxiety attack, he remains calm and patient and helps you try to breathe. Whenever you need to vent, he’s always there for you. He’ll let you curl up on his lap while you talk, gently stroking your hair. Although he’s quiet while you talk, you know he listens to every detail and he doesn’t want to interrupt you. After you finish sharing, he’ll offer advice or discuss the situation to help you work through it together.

Rafayel:

He knows that you were going through significant struggles because it often kept you doing certain things with him. There are times when the weight of your depression and anxiety feels so heavy that it drains your motivation, making your favorite hobbies or simply just doing anything seem out of reach. Sometimes the intensity of your OCD leads you to stay up, unable to rest because you repeatedly check things like the light switches, doors, windows, and everything else in the house.

OCD is a topic that Rafayel wouldn’t tease or be playful on with you. He notices the small things when you repeat patterns or prefer certain number sets. He’s very patient and understanding about this topic but anytime you feel as if your ocd ritual was messed up, he is quick to run to your side and reassure you that everything will be okay.

Rafayel has been in a dark place himself so he knows the signs when you’re struggling. Whether you’ve been through this over and over again, he’ll help you through this every single time. If you don't have the energy to take a shower or a bath, then he’ll simply carry you and wash you himself. He’ll join you and use your favorite bath bomb scents and make it a little fun by blowing bubbles at you. A smile would curl up on his lips when he sees you smiling again.

He wouldn’t force you to talk. He’ll do most of the talking and hopefully it takes your mind off anything you were anxious about. When you are ready to talk, he’ll praise you. It’s a big step forward in healing and he would be listening attentively to everything you say.

Rafayel would text you throughout the day and ask how you were feeling. He's always there at your beck and call. If you need anything, he already has it and he's on his way to you.

If you were out in public and you started to feel uneasy, he would lead you somewhere else. Rafayel would always be holding your hand for security and to make sure you were always right by his side. He doesn't mind wherever you both go, as long as he's with you. He makes sure that you two can go to places that aren't crowded or noisy but still enjoyable and fun for the both of you.

He’s very worried whenever you take medications. He knows that they can have some mean and nasty side effects and that’s the last thing he would want you to go through. He’ll always make sure to check up on you a couple hours later to see how you’re holding up.

Sylus:

It does not take him long to notice you were acting off. Nothing can get past this man and he doesn’t want you to feel like you have anything to hide from him. No matter what the issue is, he isn’t leaving your side and you’ll both work on the issue together. He doesn’t want you to go through anything alone.

When you feel empty and you simply want to sink into your bed and lay there motionless because everything in the world was just too much, Sylus will not hesitate to take action. He’ll make sure you're eating nutritious meals by calling his private chefs or he’ll make them himself. He’ll sit right beside you and watch you take enough bites or he’ll spoon feed it to you himself. Sylus would make sure to tell you that you were doing so well even if the bites were big or small. After you are done eating, he’ll make sure that you take all your meds and check up on you if any of the side effects arise.

He’ll be right by your side at any doctor's appointments. He’ll carry you to the bathroom himself or he’ll use his evol to help wash, dry, and dress you up. Sylus would encourage you as well to go on walks with him so your body is still moving and so you can get some fresh air. He does all of this because he loves you and he doesn’t want you to lose any of the progress you made. He knows your capabilities and he knows you will get through this. He’ll be right by your side the entire time.

When he notices that your OCD rituals are becoming overwhelming, he doesn't hesitate to step in to help. He finds engaging activities for the both of you to do so it steers your focus away from the obsessive thoughts. Understanding how OCD can distort your perceptions, he uses distractions as a way to gently pull you out of that obsessive cycle.

Sylus would let you know that he’s accessible. Whenever you need him, feel free to call him any time and he’ll drop anything and come by to help you.

Don't even bother brushing off any of your issues. Anything that bothers you, he's always there to listen and help you. He’s a great listener and he never judges you for any problems you had and the reason behind your behavior. His shoulder is for you to lean on, cry on, laugh on, and hold on, etc. He’s understanding and wants you to be happy again.

When he’s away, he will have food delivered to you. He’ll make sure you eat and that you take your meds right after by calling or texting to remind you. Or he’ll just send Mephisto to you. He’ll caw/squawk repeatedly until you finish your meals.

601 notes · View notes

lavenderspence · 6 months ago

Text

To Lean On You | Spencer Reid

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Content Warning: post prison!Spencer, mentions of addiction, prison talk (typical for the prison arc), gun use, mentions of death, suggestive themes, idiots in love, angst, so much angst.

Word Count: 8.6K

Summary: You and Spencer wasted years, truths hidden, feelings uncertain, and a fear of the unrequited. It took ten weeks, isolated, silent, and broken, for the realization to strike. There was no life, if you didn’t have each other.

A/N: It’s finally here! Wow, writing this was a wild ride, honestly. Over a month of writing, blood, sweat, and tears poured over it (there were in fact some tears). This is also the first thing I’ve written in 3 years and I'm very happy to finally be out of my slump. It's probably the angstiest thing I've written ever, and at the same time, I feel like it's not the greatest, but deep down, I still love it, haha. Let me know if I've missed any warnings. And, enjoy and any feedback is appreciated. <3

Here are some of the songs I listened to while writing this if you want to get into the mood:

Hearts by Jessie Ware

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived by Taylor Swift

Lost Without You by Freya Ridings

In This Shirt by The Irresponssibles

masterlist

79 days, 3 hours, and 27 minutes - that’s how long it’s been since he got arrested in Mexico.

70 days, 6 hours, and 13 minutes since you saw him being pulled out of the courtroom after he was deemed a flight risk and denied bail. 70 days, 6 hours, and 13 minutes have passed since you last saw him.

65 days, 7 hours, and 11 minutes, since he was transferred to Millburn Correctional Facility, and this whole nightmare, had started.

Per Penelope’s carefully crafted schedule, every team member has made numerous trips to visit Spencer - every member except you. You’d only made one trip out, and that had been 3 days after he’d been transferred.

March 4th, 2017

It’s been 8 days since you saw him led in cuffs out of that courtroom, where Penelope had broken down in Luke’s arms, everyone too shocked to make a sound. He’d looked back, his eyes meeting yours briefly, and it had been as if you’d almost seen your reflection in the mirror, every emotion had run between you both in a matter of seconds.

Shock, you’d almost been sure they would grant bail, and you’d be able to take him home. Almost.

Fear, for his future and his well-being. Fear of the uncertain.

Desperation, the desire to run to him and take him into your arms, finally, and to not let go.

Except you’d held his gaze for as long as you could before you’d looked down and turned your head to save him from seeing you break down in tears. You’d made a hasty escape after that, not sparing any of your teammates a glance, and walked out of the courthouse, stopping by a tree outside. The urge to curl up into a ball and hide, pretending none of this had happened, was strong, and then a hand wrapped around your shoulder. You had turned around, only to see Rossi and one of his sad little smiles, the ones you rarely saw.

“It’s going to be okay,” he’d said, squeezing your shoulder. ”The kid is strong.”

You’d sniffled, trying to hide the tears in your voice. “Yeah, well, I’m not sure I am," you’d whispered in despair.

You were better than you had been 8 days ago, calmer. Although still heartbroken, you were looking forward to seeing him, seeing with your eyes that he was okay. Garcia had seen him, 2 days ago, before you’d been sent out on a case.

“He looks good. I mean, as good as that big genius brain of his can look in prison. His eyes were sad though, really, really sad.” She’d paused as if to assure herself it would be alright, “I’m sure he’s looking forward to seeing you, sweetness.” She’d squeezed your hand, but her statement hadn’t rung true.

Your hands were shaking, you weren’t sure what from. The anticipation you’d felt? The nerves? Or the words you had a hard time coming to terms with.

“I’m sorry, but your name isn’t on Spencer Reid’s approved visitor list,” the guard at the checkpoint had said after rechecking the list.

“There has to be a mistake, I made an appointment,” you insisted, feeling yourself unravel. It wasn’t possible, you knew for a fact you were on that list, Emily had made sure of that.

“Look, lady. There are only 10 names on that list, and yours is not one of them. Now, you need to move, because there are people here waiting to see their loved ones.” you’d hiccuped and turned around, walking to the lockers to unlock your gun, badge, and phone.

“I’m here to see a loved one.” You’d wanted to scream, but you knew it would have been futile. There wasn’t anything you could do at that moment.

You walked to your car, dialing Emily’s number, “This is Prentiss.”

For a second, only your breathing could be heard over the sound of the wind, and then a tiny sniffle. You wiped at your eyes and nose, and then spoke up, barely, “Why am I not on Spencer’s approved visitor list?”

“What do you mean? Every member of this team is on the list. So is his lawyer and Diana, even Derek,” you could hear the surprise in her voice, yet you couldn’t keep calm any longer.

"They refused to let me see him! I made the appointment, Emily, and I came, hoping I’d finally see him hear his voice, and ask him-” Your voice broke mid-sentence, and after taking a deep breath, you continued, “Ask him if he was okay, and I was denied because out of the 10 names on that list, it seems mine’s not one of them.” You finished defeated, barely above a whisper.

All was silent for the moment, save for what you could hear was Penelope’s voice on the other end of the line, quietly asking what was going on, “Let me call Fiona and the warden, and I’ll see what happened. Meanwhile, I need you back here, because we just got a case.” Her voice wasn’t leaving anything up for discussion. Still, you couldn’t go, not until you saw him.

“Emily-” she cut you off.

“It’s not a discussion. I’ll resolve this, but I need you here and your head in the game. Am I clear?” Her voice was stern, but maybe that’s exactly what you needed. Maybe.

“Yeah, clear. I’m on my way back.” You took a deep breath and started the car and the journey back to Quantico, but your mind stayed right there, on the bars that kept you away from the one thing you held dearest.

As it turns out, there was nothing the warden or Fiona could do. Even Emily Prentiss, Unit Chief of the BAU, couldn't “resolve” the situation. Days, weeks, and months passed, and for 70 days you couldn’t see him, isolated out, not even knowing why.

“-to be in the courthouse in one.” You snapped out of your thoughts, only catching the end of the sentence, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes. You were tired, and it had little to do with the fact that you had been up all night, going over all the evidence with the team and tracing Lindsey Vaughan’s steps to a T in an attempt to exonerate Spencer and finally bring him home.

You were exhausted, both physically and mentally. You’d been up for more than 24 hours now, but then you hadn’t been sleeping all that well to begin with. Every single night was spent wondering how Spencer was doing, and every time you closed your eyes, you saw him in that cell in Mexico.

His eyes were red, high out of his mind, barely coherent, dirty, and injured - a far cry from the person you were used to seeing every single day - energetic, passionate, and brilliant. After 12 years, if there was one image you wished to erase from your memory, it was this one. Not all the blood you’ve seen spilled, every victim, be it men, women, or even children, all the horrors of the job, but this. Maybe it made you a bad person, but there was nothing worse than seeing the one person you held dearest at their lowest and not being able to do anything to stop it.

Every waking hour that you weren’t on the job was spent wondering how he was doing and if he was okay. If he was healthy, unharmed, and safe, or as safe as an FBI agent could be in prison. But most of all, the one thing that had kept you up at night, slowly destroying your sanity and making you question everything, had been the one question you couldn’t seem to get an answer to.

“Why doesn’t he want to see me?”

You’d asked everyone and had waited with battered breath for an answer, a clarification on the matter, and it never came. As shocked as you had been at the notion that you wouldn’t be seeing Spencer for an indefinite amount of time, your team had been even more shocked. They knew the kind of relationship you and Spencer had, how close you’d become over the years, and how much you relied on each other.

You’d asked every team member, you’d asked yourself, you’d even asked Spencer in a few of the letters you wrote to him, and then there had come a point where you just stopped.

You were torturing yourself more than enough, day after day, and every single night, asking yourself a question you wouldn’t get an answer to. Not as long as he was locked up in that hellhole and you were out here, trying to keep together the pieces of something, that was on the verge of breaking.

You felt a hand taking hold of yours, and for a second, you tensed up. Pulled out of your thoughts, you looked up and were met with chocolate brown eyes, full of worry - Emily’s eyes.

You glanced around the room, only to realize it was empty, save for the two of you. You hadn’t felt when the others had left, that’s how deep in thought you had been.

“Where did you go? I’ve been calling your name for a while now,” she spoke gently, squeezing your hand. If you were honest, that’s the first time she asked you anything about the situation. You’d spent weeks suffering in silence and trying to pretend that you weren’t slowly dying on the inside.

You briefly thought about lying, it wouldn’t be the first lie you’d told since Spencer had been incarcerated, but you didn’t have it in you to hide anymore.

And so, for the first time since Spencer’s hearing, you told the truth.

“Nothing makes sense anymore, Em,” it left you in a whisper, “I’m barely holding it together. I feel like I’m drowning sometimes, and just when I breach the surface, I’m pulled back in. My mind, it’s...I question everything, all the time. My mornings start with thoughts about him, and my nights end with tears over him, over this entire…this nightmare. I keep waiting for my alarm to go off, to wake up and realize that this has been a plot of my imagination, some cruel joke my mind has conjured, designed to show me... "Your eyes welled with tears, prepared to admit something you should have long ago. Emily gave your hand another squeeze, prompting you to continue, and so you did, admitting it for the first time aloud.

“Designed to show me that I can’t live a life that doesn’t have Spencer in it.” You wiped at your eyes, willing your tears at bay. When you dared to look up, you were met with the eyes of the only other person besides Spencer who has been a constant rock in your life for the last 11 years. What you saw in her eyes then wasn’t surprise like you’d thought, but relief. It took you a moment to fully read her, but it was like a switch had gone off when you finally did.

“But you’re not surprised to hear this, are you?” you smiled sadly, a light laugh leaving you.

“I wouldn’t be a good friend if I didn’t have my suspicions, and I’d be an even worse profiler,” she smiled at you, “Plus, there are some feelings that you just can’t hide,” you blinked, and then you blinked again. You hadn’t come right out and said it, and yet she knew, she somehow knew.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” you tried to backtrack, but you knew it was a losing battle. Emily knew you well enough to smell your bullshit from miles.

“That’s exactly how you meant it, and don’t even try to deny it. I see it every damn day. It’s how you leave the room whenever you hear someone talk about visiting Spencer. You don’t want to hear how he’s doing because you wouldn’t believe it, not unless you see him with your own eyes. But you can’t, so you’ve resigned yourself to the torture of not knowing instead of giving yourself the smallest amount of peace by asking. You’ve been suffering in silence for almost three months, too stubborn to say anything, thinking you were doing yourself a favor. And what for? You’re crying yourself to sleep every night and coming to work the next morning, pretending everything is fine when clearly it’s not. You think you’re fooling everyone, but the only person you’re tricking is yourself. And how’s that working out for you?” she had a point, and it’s not like you weren’t aware of that fact. You knew what you were doing wasn’t okay or healthy. You had the most stable support system imaginable to get you through the hardest parts. It was hard, though, especially when the person who was suffering the most was the person who’d taken your heart with him.

“Way to call me out, boss.” you were just about ready to end the conversation, you couldn’t take any more of this. You’d promised each other long ago that you wouldn’t profile each other but you had a feeling that was exactly what Emily was doing right now. Maybe not on purpose, and with every good intention imaginable, but you didn’t want that. You didn’t want one of your best friends to try to understand you based on behavioral analysis right after you’d spilled your soul out to her.

“Just calling it the way I see it, someone has to,” she smiled, but then she shook her head a little before continuing. “What I want to know is why you didn’t say something earlier. You know I would have been there to listen, and so would have the team.” Damn, Emily Prentiss.

You didn’t have to think hard about it, you’ve been ruminating over everything for days. You were trying not to, but whenever your mind wasn’t focused on a case or the many drinking nights spent in Penelope’s purple adobe, that was where your mind would take you.

“Out of fear, I think,” you started, unsure for a second, still nervous to admit it. It wasn’t exactly what she was asking, but it was a start, “I was afraid, and I still am. I’ve been baiting myself into thinking it was just some sort of fondness, a little stronger than that which you feel towards a friend, and far lesser than what it actually is. I thought that if I didn’t say anything, I could go on lying to myself, and nothing would have to change, we wouldn’t have to change. Because words hold meaning, and an admission like that holds weight. What would I have done if it was just me who felt like this? I would have ruined the one thing we’ve both cherished for over a decade.” It felt good to finally say all of this out loud instead of holding it inward. But then again, Emily always knew when you'd had enough.

She’d told you time and time again the same thing Hotch had asked of her when she returned to duty after faking her death: “Let me know when you are having a bad day.”. Honestly, you’d held off long enough, and so had she. It was a whole miracle she hadn’t pressed you about your behavior earlier.

“That’s not what I was asking,” you said, shaking your head with a smile to let her know that you weren’t done speaking.

“Everyone was suffering as a result of what happened in Mexico, what I was feeling wasn’t any different, Emily.” You were flippant about it, you always have been. You preferred isolating yourself and hiding everything instead of seeking a shoulder to bear the weight of what you felt.

“Our sadness came from the fact that our friend was framed. And yours? That’s different.”

“It isn’t,” she scoffed, getting up. Now you really felt like you were about to get scolded like a child.

“Yes, it is. God, you and Spencer are the same. It’s like I’m looking at his doppelganger without the whole… IQ of 187. You share some of the worst qualities a person can have,” you laughed at that, “You are both changeophobes-” you cut her off

“Metathesiophobia, fear of change.” She only raised her hand at you, as if to say, “See, you even sound like him,” which made you laugh even more.

“You close yourselves off after a sad or traumatic experience, silently hoping you’d be able to get through the worst of it on your own. Most of the time, it’s evident that’s not the case. You only ask for help when you’ve reached rock bottom or have no other choice, but you’ve had a choice from the get-go. Your stubbornness even stems from the same anxieties, it’s infuriating,” she seemed to calm down then, in defeat maybe, or she hadn’t been mad, to begin with, she sat down again.

“My point is, it shouldn’t have taken you learning that he might be coming home today to tell me all of this. I’ve known for a long time that there was something far more than platonic friendship on your end. You shouldn’t have tortured yourself since his trial to try to put the puzzle pieces together. You aren’t late, you have all the time in the world to say what you feel and what you want, and rejection shouldn’t be a factor, believe me. You need to make peace with that fear because Spencer is coming home today. And whether you are ready or not, you both need to have a serious conversation.” You appreciated her determination about Spencer being released, but then again, you had more than circumstantial evidence to support the fact that he was innocent. But, as always, Emily was right. He was coming home today, and after months of not seeing each other, there were a lot of things you needed to say.

“I know. Thank you, Emily, for everything,” you whispered, squeezing her tight.

Spencer’s POV

The first breath of fresh air after being on the inside for months felt far more overwhelming than he thought it would be. Being in charge of your being and your responses and emotions felt almost unnatural like the feeling of it didn’t belong to him. The sound of the wind and the traffic, people’s voices, and even the simple act of getting comfortable in the leather seats of the jet overwhelmed any ability to concentrate and think straight.

In itself, it was strange. The prison was loud, the prison commissary at breakfast, lunch, and dinner was a cacophony of prisoners talking, cells being opened, and guards barking orders. The yard was loud too, although, in the middle of nowhere, nature could still be heard - the sounds of trees and the lone birds, if he had to guess a mix of Mourning Dove and Field Sparrow. Their songs were soothing most of the time, a welcome distraction from the usual noises around him.

Without the atmosphere he’d gotten used to and subjected to all of those sounds and people whose presence he found comforting before, he now felt almost out of place. He wanted to feel at peace, he wanted to feel free, and although he technically was, his mind was more trapped than he’d actually been in that 2 by 2 cell in cellblock C.

He kept replaying some of the hardest moments from his time in, every threat, every punch he’d gotten, and the phantom feel of the fists connecting. Luis’ blood on his hands, the smell of bleach incorporated with the drugs, the tip of the sharpened toothbrush embedding into his thigh. All he’d done to survive, harm, and more harm, only to make it out alive.

He barely recognized himself. He’d deliberately ignored looking at himself in the small plastic mirror in his cell, for fear of seeing what he’d had to become. Gone was the Spencer who’d use his brain to get out of situations, whose obliviousness more often than not helped to balance his intellect with the socially acceptable. Gone was the bubbly personality of a kid excited to share a plethora of facts with his friends.

In his place sat a man, tormented by the reality of the hatred felt towards him. The reality of being a pawn in a game whose complexity could have been his downfall. A man whose genius, as much of a blessing, could sometimes be a curse. A man who had felt too much and was made to experience far more loss than his quaint heart was able to take. In the end, he kept losing, be it his father, by no choice of his own. His mentor, at the hands of a killer’s insanity. His friends and loved ones, hoping for a better life or his freedom, made to rot in a place he didn’t deserve to be in.

Some would doubt that he had anything at all left to lose. All in all, how much more could the scrawny twelve-year-old child prodigy, left to survive in a public high school, take?

His mind had been plagued by that question for years. He’d thought about that more than he’d like to admit. After every loss, there’d been a split moment where he’d asked himself what was next. What would be the next thing life would take from him? And every time, he’d had to wonder if, next time, life wouldn’t reach for the one thing he couldn’t allow to be taken from him. The one thing that, were he to lose, he’d never recover. He had hoped, sometimes prayed, that after everything he’d seen, everything he’d lived through, this would be the one thing that’d be spared.

Locked in that cage, he’d tried even harder to ensure that there wouldn’t be another loss in his life - not anymore. Be it good or bad, he’d done everything. For 70 days, he’d had to assure himself he was doing what he thought was right, and what he wasn’t saying, he’d be forgiven for. He’d had to dodge questions and see the disappointment in his friend’s eyes, and when that wasn’t enough of a burden to bring all of his anxieties to the surface, he’d resigned himself to reading the words of the person he was doing all of this for - you.

He’d reread every letter to the point where the edges of the papers were worn out, even though he’d known the contents by heart on the first read. He tortured himself by looking at your handwriting, analyzing the slanting of the words and the pressure of the pen. The little stains on the paper, he didn’t have to be a genius to know, were your tears. It broke his heart, to know he was causing you this much pain. He didn’t need to be there to see it, he felt it through your words.

He often questioned if it was worth it, if he was protecting you, or himself, or maybe even what you were or weren’t.

Even now, the weight of your words sat heavily on his mind, and right by his heart, in the pocket of his jacket, he felt the weight of the 9 letters you wrote.

As he looked over from the little window of the jet, he couldn’t help but wonder if, in his desire to shield you from everything, he hadn’t gone too far. Ultimately, was he going to be forgiven, or be forced to pick up the pieces of the reality broken by his own doing?

“Don’t do that.” JJ’s gentle voice startled him from the overwhelming nature of his thoughts. She’d spent the last 30 minutes since they boarded silently observing him, waiting for him to pick up a conversation. But he’d decided to stay num.

In every twitch of his fingers, in his desire to get comfortable but being unable to, she could see that he was restless. If she had to guess, his mind was much the same.

“Do what?”

She gave him a look, one, had he not known her long enough, he might have been offended by. Clearly, she was offended herself, watching him play the clueless card.

“Spence, I don’t need to profile you to know that your mind’s running a thousand miles a minute, contemplating your decisions, and I don’t think you should. You did what you thought was right, and no one blames you for that, not for Mexico, and not for what you did after,” she spoke evenly, gathering even Penelope and Alvez’s attention from where they sat. He looked over, receiving a smile and a nod from both before focusing on JJ again.

Rationally, he knew she was right about everything. He didn’t need to run himself ragged with everything he could have done differently, or search for the perfect way to explain, or overall, the perfect outcome of his own decisions. He knew there wasn’t one, there was no perfect way to say what he needed to, no perfect words to pick so he could fix this and erase the pain he knew he’d caused.

Perfection wasn’t something you could strive to achieve, because there’s no such thing as perfection. The term was diverse, everyone had a different perspective on what that might look like. If for JJ, perfection was the family that waited for her at home every time she returned from a case, for Spencer, perfection was vastly different.

For him, perfection was the rich aroma of coffee that could cause someone’s insulin to spike because of the amount of sugar in it. The softness of a book page between his fingers, or the familiarity of a book he’d read before but needed to revisit.

Perfection was the sound of your laugh whenever he was the one to prompt the sound. The way your eyes lit up every time you listened to him babble on. Perfection was the time he got to spend with you every day, every hour, and every minute that he could remember with almost scary accuracy.

He could sit and wonder what the perfect way to go about this was, but there simply wasn’t one, there was only the truth. And as painful, hopeful, or even a little dumb as it was, that was the best he could give.

And maybe that’s what his mind should focus on instead, the truth, in its simplest form, at its core the truth he’d hidden for months, and then the truth he’d hidden for years.

He had wondered long enough if he’d made the right choice. He spent plenty of time focusing on the shame he’d felt, prompted by the disappointment he’d seen in his friends’ eyes whenever they brought up your name. How he’d sit, silent, or give an answer so short and angry, it’d add even more shame to the one he already felt.

Beyond his time in prison, where he spent most of his time questioning his decisions, he spent years before that questioning himself as a person. His place on the team, his intelligence, even his failings. His inability to form relationships where he’d be seen as more than Dr. Reid, or the skinny kid, pretty boy, or a genius. A relationship that’d make him feel like simply Spencer, without the added adjectives, that sometimes made him feel like a circus clown.

Only when he’d been locked up, had he started to realize that he’d finally built a relationship with someone with whom he could be himself. The most basic, boring, and peaceful version of himself, and slowly, all had started falling into place.

How content he felt whenever he was around you, the desire to tell you every good or bad news he received. How when you asked about his mother, it warmed his heart, or how worried he felt when you acted stupid in the field. How out of control he’d felt when you’d gone missing last year. Or even, at the time, the unexplained jealousy he’d felt seeing you talk with another man.

Morgan had asked, once, twice, a lot, if maybe he didn’t have a crush, but he’d denied it, every time. And every time he’d question himself, he'd dismiss the idea just as quickly.

Yet, upon being forced away from you, the pieces had started mending into one.

Every realization he’d had was like a new broken piece being glued to the overall mosaic. And every new piece added built everything he felt about you. And it was a lot, and it was overwhelming, and so, so right, it sometimes felt wrong. Because he was inside a prison of his own doing, and you were out there, made to wait for him, for an explanation, for the truth.

And he’d vowed to himself that the moment he was out, he’d put everything on the table, no matter how much he’d fucked up or how much he’d hurt you. He’d sit there, and he’d let it out, and if necessary, he’d even beg for your forgiveness.

Because there wasn’t a moment in this life, he wanted to live through, without you there with him.

Your POV

You pulled the trigger, your eyes focused, and your hands steady. Three consecutive shots were fired, each one hitting its intended target. Three more followed, and then as many as it took to empty the magazine.

You put down the gun and took a deep breath, steadying your heartbeat, trying to rid yourself of the deep-seated anxiety you felt. An odd sense of calm overtook you whenever you found yourself at the shooting range. Maybe it was the everpresent scent of gunpowder or the quiet only disturbed by the firing of a gun. Or even the possibility of escaping your rising thoughts, the desire to run or scream, sometimes both.

There was a sense of solitude there that almost made it easier to breathe. The repetitive motion and the weight of the gun in your hands felt like second nature.

Front sight, trigger press, follow through, just like Hotch had taught you all those years ago. As long as you held that gun, your mind was quiet, and you focused on something other than the worry you felt.

It made sense you found yourself there shortly after Emily had shared the long-awaited good news - Spencer was finally free, and JJ, Penelope, and Luke were on route back with him. For a short moment, you’d felt the weight being lifted from your chest, and then it dropped again, now tripled.

Suddenly, your earlier conversation with Emily had gotten as real as the target before you. Even with the sense of peace, you’d felt after, your thoughts on the matter clear, you still felt a sense of dread at the idea of seeing him.

As if he wasn’t your best friend, the man who’d long ago won your affection and captured your heart, but rather a stranger who held your future in his hands. And he might as well be, because whatever the truth to the questions you wanted answered was, one thing was for sure.

It’d either make or break you both.

You picked up a new magazine, and loaded the gun, aiming at the target before releasing the safety. Before you fired again, you released a breath, and with it, all the feelings within you - fear, uncertainty, yearning, and the sense of madness, which, although mild, was persistent.

You fired once, twice, your aim impeccable, and then, out of nowhere, you missed.

The hair at the back of your neck rose, your heart rate quickened, and the feeling of another’s presence in the room was unmistakable. It took you just a second to put the pieces together, the intrusion felt like anything but that.

Instead, for a brief moment, the person brought with them a familiar feeling of calm. In the next instance, though, reality came crashing like a tidal wave, and you knew you’d run out of time.

Your hands shook as you put down the gun. You could feel him watching you, probably standing next to the door, as if he couldn’t will himself to move closer. The anxiety was palpable in the air, although you couldn’t really say if it was yours or his, most likely, it was a mix of both.

You went to reach for your protection but hesitated. Once you took it off, there’d no longer be an excuse for you to ignore him, you’d finally have to meet the reality he’d so carefully crafted for you.

Even though you felt like you could barely breathe, the desire to finally lay your eyes on him won out.

Without missing another beat, you took off your earplugs and then your eye protection. You could faintly hear the sound of shoes squicking against the floor. He could never stay still when he was nervous.

You picked up on the sound of your own breathing too, the beating of your heart was almost erratic. You were waiting, what for, you weren’t sure.

He was waiting too, for you to turn around, to lay his eyes on you. Like a sadist, waiting to see the pain he’d caused, or a masochist, wishing for his own in turn.

70 days of slowly killing you both.

When you finally dared to turn around, it took you a moment to fully take him in. He looked like the Spencer you knew, yet there was something different about him too. Dressed in his usual suit and tie outfit, he didn’t look comfortable. His posture was rigid, almost defensive. It wasn’t a conscious decision, that much you were sure of.

His hair was longer, pushed back, curling at the ends, and he’d lost some weight. Not much, but enough to make an impression after all this time. He looked pensive, like the weight of the world sat on his shoulders, but maybe it was just the weight of the consequences he had to face.

Your eyes ran over every inch of him multiple times, intentionally avoiding his gaze for as long as possible. Seconds and minutes passed, and you weren’t really sure how much exactly.

Spencer knew, though, of course, he did. If his fear of meeting you eye to eye was as great as yours was, you knew he was counting until the torture of the act itself was over.

89 seconds he’d counted, although now with you there, they felt longer than the days without you did.

When you eventually met his gaze, you felt a part of your heart chip on the inside. What people said about the eyes being a portal to one's soul couldn’t have been more right in that moment. Spencer, a man who excelled at hiding his emotions when he really wanted to, had let them out as clear as day for you to see.

His eyes sparkled with so much sadness and guilt that it threatened to take you apart even before he had the chance to talk. Something softened within you at that moment, but in the next instance, it was like someone else took over.

One moment you wanted to cry for him or with him, and the next you felt like your whole being needed to be let out.

“Is that…is that all you can offer me right now? More of your silence? Don’t you think I’ve had enough of that?” The questions, a few of many to follow, had a bite to them.

His face fell a little, taken aback by your tone. He fidgeted with his fingers, unsure what to say, or where to start. How could he answer your question? He pictured a scenario where his words flew freely, where he gave you an explanation worthy of forgiveness and a confession, so earnest that it ended with you in his arms.

Try as he might, the words didn’t come to him, just a barely audible accusation.

“That’s not fair.”

You scoffed, as if in outrage. A madness, one born out of so much heartbreak, took over, it was blinding. If someone had asked you to explain yourself, you’d say that wasn’t you. You’d never be so forward, almost cruel, to him, but at that moment, being mad sounded so much better than being vulnerable. Like a shield, you weren’t ready to let go of yet.

“How exactly is this not fair, Spencer? It’s the truth!” you yelled, and you felt free, finally letting it all out. “You want to know what isn’t fair, though? The way you isolated me OUT of your life! For three months, I’ve had to stand on the sidelines and beg for scraps, just to know you were okay. Every pitiful look I’d get from the people I consider family felt like another stab to the heart. That’s what’s not fair!” You were screaming so loud. It was a good thing the range was soundproof, otherwise, the whole of the BAU would have been deep in your business by now.

If he looked surprised by the accusation, he didn’t really show it. His posture took a turn, though. The rigidity disappeared, and in turn, it opened, as if the need to comfort you overpowered the uncertainty or the mask he’d had to hold while imprisoned.

You didn’t want his comfort, not right now. Maybe later, when all was said and done, you’d get to have a normal conversation without the frustrations of the past. At that moment, you just wanted everything out of your system. You wanted the questions, the answers, and the truth.

His silence continued as he started closing the distance between you. You wanted to move, to create more distance, but there was nowhere to go. You were squeezed between the range, and him. Whatever else was left than to continue begging for clarity.

“It’s not fair being sent away the first time I came to see you. To learn you didn’t want to see me! Each time it was my turn to visit you, do you want to know where I was? I sat outside that fucking prison, wishing for a glimpse of the person who’s been my rock for 12 years! Holding back tears, thinking you didn’t…you didn’t care like I did. Is this what I really deserve after 12 years by your side?” You almost slipped, you almost told him, and maybe you should have, it might have prompted him to talk or to say something. But no, he stayed silent. Step after step, he limped, his cheek twitched, and his brows furrowed, but like a coward, he remained quiet.

He was meters away from you, three more steps, and he’d completely close the distance, and meet you face to face.

“Say something, Spencer, damn it!” Your throat burned from the strain, and he advanced even more. “Anything,” you finished in a whisper, and all of a sudden, all the fight left you, and your eyes watered and your vision went blurry.

He was just a step away then, and when you looked into his eyes, you couldn’t help but see how they shined.

He reached forward, one hand taking hold of your arm while the other went to hold your waist, but you shook your head. “No, Spencer, please,” you whispered. You didn’t want to find yourself in his arms, because that would be the last of your composure, gone. You’d surrender to the feel of him like you even had a choice not to.

He didn’t stop, not until you were snug into his arms, one of his hands at the back of your neck, holding your head tenderly, but the arm around your waist held onto you as if he was scared you’d slip away from him.

Once in his arms, you finally let go, breaking down into pieces, hoping he’d be able to hold them all from crumbling to the ground.

“Hey, shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” He kept repeating, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your pulse point. All the while, you could only stand, your arms at your sides, as if paralyzed.

Being in his arms felt like being home somehow. It felt so right after having been deprived of the feeling for so long. It felt like there was nothing wrong, and nothing could go wrong at that moment.

Even though you hadn't initially wanted his comfort, somewhere deep inside, you craved his tender touch. You craved the feel of his body near and the faint scent that was so uniquely him - a mix of coffee, fall, and old paper, books. You realized then that you craved the sound of his voice too, another part of him you’d been deprived of.

The voice of the always rambling boy that never failed to bring a smile to your face, even when you couldn’t understand him sometimes.

And the more he whispered, his voice broken and shaky, the harder you cried. You’d thought nothing could match the heartbreak of his actions or the anger of his silence, but the reality of being held against him brought the realization that your suffering mirrored his own.

If you’d been dying on the inside for months, he’d been on the other side of the link holding you tethered to each other, dying just as much.

And you couldn’t hold yourself back any longer after that. You buried your head in the crook of his neck, and your arms finally circled his waist underneath his suit jacket, fisting the back of his shirt as if it were your one lifeline.

You felt him exhale when you finally returned his touch, most likely in relief, before he dropped a light kiss on your head.

You cried for the relief of having him back and close. For unspoken truths and time wasted, years of figuring out feelings clear as day. For all the anger, for all of his silence, for all you felt for him.

He cried for all the pain he’d caused you and for all the time he’d wasted being alone instead of being with you. He cried for himself, he cried for you, and he cried, overwhelmed by his feelings for you.

You clung to one another, crying, and minutes were passing and neither of you cared. Not when you had each other.

After a while, when both your tears dried out and your cries quieted, but you still felt the need to hold each other close, you dared to murmur a broken “Why?” hoping he’d hear, hoping he’d understand.

It didn’t take him long to mumble a reply, no longer silent.

“All the words in the world available, and I wish I could explain.” it came out just as quietly, both of you scared to break the little bubble you’d found yourselves in.

You pulled back from him, wanting to look into his eyes, red-rimmed and still sparkling when you felt yourself begging again.

“Then try, please, because I’d rather know, and not understand, than not know at all.” And it was the truth. He could speak in riddles if he wanted, but you needed to know why he’d made that choice.

You looked at him expectantly before he pushed a piece of hair back, and his hand once again settled at the back of your head, gently cupping it.

“I wanted you safe from a world you didn’t belong in,” he admitted on an exhale, like a lifelong secret he’d gotten tired of holding onto.

You looked at him in wonder, and it was on the tip of your tongue to tell him he didn’t belong in that world either, but just as you opened your mouth to speak, he shook his head.

“I was ashamed when I had you removed from the visitor’s list. I didn’t want you to see me like that, like a criminal,” he started, pulling you into his arms, not wanting to admit it to you eye to eye, out of fear of being right. Of course, he was wrong, but that didn’t stop him from wondering.

“The first time JJ visited me, they leered at her like they were being fed fresh meat, taking her in, committing her to memory. A cage full of animals. I knew then that I didn’t want that for you, and any guilt I had at keeping you away disappeared that day. It hurt me, knowing I was failing you and whatever trust you had in me,” he whispered, wishing to keep the reality of his thoughts and his feelings in a little bubble as if you only existed in it.

“I’m not the same person I was before, I couldn’t be him, even if it meant losing a part of myself in the process. I couldn’t really be a decent human being without bearing the consequences. Everything I saw, everything I did, and everything that was done to me, I don’t think I’d ever fully be the person I was before. And that too, I’m thankful I spared you from seeing.” It would explain his rigidity, a defense mechanism he’d had to get used to.

And while everything he’d said thus far was true the biggest truth, he’d had yet to say. He had yet to really explain why he’d done what he’d done in the first place. He was stalling, still afraid, but the longer he held you, the longer he felt your heart beating in time with his, the more sure he became.

To hell with the consequences, to hell with whatever happened after, he was right here in the now, alive, breathing, his arms around you, finally at peace.

He pulled back, took your face into his hands, and finally whispered.

“Most of all, though, I knew I loved you enough to risk us if it meant keeping you safe.” It left him in a rush, a confession waiting to be let out for months. A feeling he’d had for years, and a moment where he could finally be open about it.

“What…?” you licked your lips, shocked that you might not have heard him correctly. ”What does us mean?” This part of the conversation felt like you were daydreaming about it, it just didn’t feel real.

“It means whatever you want it to be. Whatever you want us to be.” All of a sudden, it was that simple.

“So, you love me?” You had a hard time taking it all in, yet your heart fluttered in pure happiness. “And you…you want us?”

"Yes.” Even before you were done speaking, he was already answering. He was desperate to finally admit he was absolutely smitten by you.

Months of figuring out your feelings, years of hiding them, a conversation to finally prompt a confession out of you, and all this time it was reciprocated. You could have cried, happiness like no other coursing through you, pure bliss.

You wanted back into his arms, you wanted to kiss him so badly that your blood was burning from the need to feel him like you'd never been able to before. And yet, you knew there was something else you needed to do before you could finally do it.

“Spence, you don’t push away the people you love, no matter the cost. You rely on their love to help aid you when you’re at your lowest.” You gave his sides a light squeeze before you looked back into his eyes, only to see them hopeful and uncertain at the same time.

He looked hopeful, for the possibility that you might actually love him back, but uncertain because it felt like you might be pushing him away this time.

“I can’t go through this again. Having to watch you wither away, in prison, at home, or by your own thoughts, I won’t be able to handle being pushed away again,” whispers, cries, pleas, memories full of heartbreak intertwined with present confessions full of joy.

His eyes watered then, his lips trembling. Any sign of hope was gone, and in its’ place stood the realization of a man who’d maybe gone a little too far. He’d pushed you away, and now, it was your time to be the one sticking and twisting the knife deep, breaking his heart in the process.

If someone were to ask him at that moment what his biggest regret was, he’d say this. This was his biggest regret, his own choices.

A tear escaped him, and you reached up, wiping it away gently before you spoke again.

“If..if this is going to go anywhere, you need to rely on me. You need to believe that I can handle anything and everything, just as long as you are by my side. All those years of being pushed away - your addiction, Maeve and Gideon’s deaths, your mom’s diagnosis, Cat Adams - you weren’t alone then, you aren’t alone now, and you won’t be alone in the future. You’ll always have me by your side, you’ll always have my support. Most of all, you’ll have my love, but when things get hard, I need you to lean on me, and trust that I can help you because together we can pull through everything, anything is possible as long as we are together.” You finished on an exhale, full-on crying now. You could barely see him, but from the little you could, you saw tears streaming down his face, and a smile that grew wide, happy.

Those words, he knew them word for word. For 13 days, he’d repeat them, no longer needing to see them written down, he had them engraved in his brain. Your letters he could recite, but your final one he’d remember as long as he lived.

“I promise to lean on you and trust that you’d help me because together we can pull through everything, anything is possible as long as we are together,” he whispered back, his eyes searching yours for just a moment before he pulled you in, and finally, his lips met yours.

He kissed you, tentative at first, testing the waters. He wanted to take his time, commit your lips to memory, gentle, and plump, exactly how he’d imagined they’d feel. The more he kissed you, the more he couldn’t stop. Passion, urgency, desire - his kisses turned desperate like he wanted to swallow you whole and never let you go.

He bit your lip gently, asking for access, before his tongue intertwined with yours and he pulled you flush against him, closing any gap left between you. Chest, hips, there wasn’t an inch where you weren’t touching.

It felt so familiar, even though you hadn’t kissed before. So right, like no one's kisses had felt before. As if your whole lives, kissing each other was the missing piece in a complicated puzzle, waiting to be put together. Coming together as one, it felt magnetic, a feeling of euphoria, pure ecstasy, no one else mattered, no other feeling mattered at that moment, other than your hands on each other and your lips locked together.

Time was passing by, and you didn’t care. Years of missed opportunities, hidden feelings, and long-awaited realizations all led to this moment. Starved for each other, a kiss full of fervor and even the taste of tears was present. Unimaginable, but very real.

When you finally pulled apart, he wiped your tears, and you wiped his in turn, before he gathered you back in the comfort of his arms, laying a kiss on the side of your head.

And between the four walls around you, nestled in each other’s arms, the place where no one could touch you, in a shared breath you both whispered.

“I love you.”

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ginnsbaker · 1 year ago

Text

Bulletproof

Summary: You're the only Avenger who sleeps in a cell. | Series Masterlist

Word count: 2.9k+ | Tags: Mild Angst, Fluff, Sharing A Bed, Enemies to Lovers

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Gender Neutral Reader

Requested by anon:

could i maybe request wanda x r where the whole team kinda mistreats them and wanda is especially bad. & r saving wanda on a mission, with this: wanda: “How'd you know you were bulletproof?" r: "I didn't. I just knew that you weren't."

Author's note: Thank you to the anon who requested this :) Not sure if this is exactly how you wanted it, but I had fun writing the battle (my first time!) Hope you don't mind I took some liberties ;) Takes place before Civil War.

“You don’t have to be so mean to them,” Natasha tells her.

Wanda's eyes narrow as she continues to fixate on you, her glare seemingly willing the daggers to find their mark. You can sense the energy of her powers tingling in the air, but she maintains control, stopping the daggers just short of their target.

“They need to know what they’re up against,” Wanda retorts, her accent slipping through in a rare moment. “If they’re going to be one of us, they have to prove themselves.”

Natasha moves to stand between you and Wanda, her body language calm but assertive. “They will, in time. But not like this.”

You can feel your heart pounding, but you refuse to let Wanda see any fear in your eyes. Your choice to leave your former life and join this team wasn't made lightly, and you won't be intimidated.

“I'm right here,” you say, stepping forward. “And I'm not going anywhere. If you want to test me, do it properly.”

Wanda smirks, and the daggers drop to the floor, clattering loudly in the silence. “Impressive,” she says, almost as an afterthought.

Steve Rogers, observing from the sidelines, steps in to defuse the situation. His authoritative presence commands respect, and his voice is steady and even. “That's enough for today. We're a team, and we need to start acting like one.”

He looks at you, his eyes filled with understanding but also a hint of caution. “However,” he continues, his tone shifting, “You'll still be sleeping in the cells.”

Your heart plummets, each word from Steve feeling like a blade to your chest. Being sent back to that room, devoid of windows, with only a tiny bed and a comforter too thin to ward off the chill, feels like a betrayal every time. You've spent nights there, shivering and reflecting on your decision to join this team, yet still, you find yourself confined.

“After several months of captivity, even cooking your dinner, you still don't trust me?” you ask, trying to keep the hurt out of your voice.

Steve's expression softens, but his resolve remains firm. “It's not about trust,” he says quietly, his voice carrying a weight of experience and pain. “We've been crossed so many times before, mostly by former HYDRA agents.”

Like you, he doesn’t need to say.

You understand the logic, but it doesn't make the reality any easier to swallow. The sense of being an outsider, the cold isolation of the cells—it wears on you.

Wanda, who had been silent up to this point, suddenly speaks up. “Maybe you should just leave then. If it's so unbearable, why stay?”

The room goes quiet.

A thousand retorts spring to your mind, but you swallow them down, unwilling to escalate the situation further. The temptation to throw back that it's rich coming from her, considering she's also a former footsoldier of HYDRA, is strong, but you bite your tongue.

You look at her, stunned by the bluntness of her suggestion, but also recognizing the challenge in her eyes.

Her words strike deeper than she may realize. Leaving isn't an option you've entertained, mainly because there's nowhere for you to go. No one left in your life to turn to. This makeshift “family” despite their reservation and distance, is all you have.

The days that follow are marked by a subtle but relentless isolation.

In the training room, Wanda's partnership becomes more aggressive than usual. Her powers lash out without warning, her critiques sharp and cutting. You hold your own, but the lack of camaraderie is palpable. Each comment she makes stings, and with every barb, you feel more and more alone.

At meal times, the rest of the Avengers seem to be in their own world, deep in conversation, sharing stories, laughing. You sit at the end of the table, your presence barely acknowledged, a shadow among them. Your attempts to join in are met with curt replies or indifference. You try to brush it off, believing that you should be used to rejection by now. But no matter how much you tell yourself that you're accustomed to it, that you've developed a thick skin, the pain is still there, raw and fresh.

Mission briefings are no better. Your opinions and insights are consistently overlooked. You contribute where you can, but your ideas are dismissed without consideration. You are a tool, a means to an end, not a part of the team. The realization gnaws at you, festering in the pit of your stomach.

Casual encounters with the team become equally disheartening. Tony passes you in the hallway without so much as a glance. Natasha avoids eye contact. Bruce mumbles something noncommittal when you try to engage him in conversation. Steve's assignments are devoid of the warmth or encouragement he shows to everyone else.

Your cell becomes a constant reminder of your status, metaphor for how the entire team treats you.

You’re both just a weapon and a first-aid kit at their disposal.

Wanda is relentless, her words sharp and her gaze cold. You have no idea why she treats you worse than any of them, why her manner towards you has turned so hostile. You don't understand why you get under her skin without even trying, why she seems to target you with a venom that feels deeply personal.

You were expecting that Wanda would be the one to understand what it feels like to be an outsider, given that you both share a common history as former HYDRA agents.

As the days turn into weeks, the isolation wears you down. The walls of your cell seem to close in, and a growing determination to prove yourself begins to take hold.

You'll show them all that you're more than just a disposable weapon.

But underlying that determination is a gnawing doubt, a fear that no matter what you do, it will never be enough to earn their respect, their trust, or their friendship. It's a lonely road, and for the first time, you begin to wonder if Wanda's earlier suggestion might hold some truth.

Perhaps it would be easier to leave.

It’s not like you know the extent of your abilities, but they bring you along the most dangerous missions for one thing:

Your healing ability.

On top of your martial arts training, you provide a sense of security to your teammates, knowing that you'll be there to heal them if they get hurt.

Now, you find yourself on one such mission, infiltrating a den of underground supers. These aren't ordinary criminals; they're mercenaries hired to carry out the dirty work of high-ranking government officials. It's a treacherous job, one filled with unknown risks, and you've been paired with Wanda for the operation.

As you and Wanda are attempting to escape, things take a turn for the worse. You find yourselves cornered in an alley, your escape route cut off by a group of armed thugs and a few individuals displaying unnerving superpowers.

Wanda takes on those with special abilities, her eyes glowing red as she unleashes her powers in a flurry of attacks. You, on the other hand, focus on the armed assailants, wielding two-handed pistols with expert precision. Bullets fly, and bodies fall as you both fight for your lives.

But in the midst of the chaos, you notice something that sends a chill down your spine. Snipers, perched on a nearby rooftop, taking aim at Wanda. Even with your healing abilities, you know that a precise shot to the head would be fatal.

“Wanda, get down!” you shout, but she's too engrossed in her battle to hear you. Your mind races, knowing that you have only seconds to act.

Without a second thought, you turn and run towards Wanda, your body moving on pure instinct. Bullets whiz by your ear, but you keep going, your focus solely on reaching her before it's too late.

You leap into the air, positioning yourself between Wanda and the snipers just as they pull the trigger.

You hear the distant release of the bullet, muted but deadly.

The world seems to slow down as you brace for the impact, only to feel the bullets bounce off your skin.

You land, unscathed, your mind reeling from the realization that you're bulletproof. But there's no time to dwell on it.

Wanda looks at you, her eyes wide with shock but also gratitude. “How did you–”

“No time!” you cut her off, urging her to keep fighting. “We have to get out of here!”

Wanda's eyes flare with a vivid scarlet as she zeroes in on the snipers in the vicinity. With a flourish of her hands, she uses her powers to locate each of their positions. A pulse of energy emanates from her fingertips, reaching out to the snipers' weapons, and within moments, the firearms disintegrate into dust, leaving the men defenseless.

Seeing an opening, you reach for Wanda's arm, your grip firm but not rough. There's no time to waste, and you start pulling her towards the exit, half running, half dragging her to safety. Her breath is warm on your neck, her body close to yours, as you weave through the maze of alleyways, your heart pounding in your chest.

Once you're at a safe distance, Wanda turns to you. “How'd you know you were bulletproof?”

“I didn't,” you admit, still in disbelief, and much to Wanda’s horror that you almost got yourself killed for her sake. “I just knew you weren't. And if those bullets got to you, I wouldn't be able to heal someone who's already dead.”

Wanda stares at you, her eyes searching your face as if she's trying to see something… deeper. Her lips part, like she wants to say something more, something that's just on the tip of her tongue but won't come out.

That's when you realize that you're still holding her arm, your bodies so close that you can feel her heartbeat. A flush of embarrassment washes over you as you become aware of the intimate proximity. Wanda clears her throat, a delicate, almost shy sound, and you immediately let go of her arm.

The silence that follows your sudden step back is heavy and awkward. You can't help but glance at the spot where your hand had been moments ago, still feeling the ghostly sensation of her arm beneath your fingers.

You look at Wanda, and she's looking back at you, her eyes wide and filled with something you can't quite name.

And then, without warning, Wanda starts to laugh.

It's a soft, bubbling sound at first, almost as if she's surprised by it herself. Her laughter grows, becoming louder and more contagious, and you can't help but stare at her, your mouth agape, wondering if she's lost her mind.

“What's so funny?” you finally manage to ask.

Wanda wipes a tear from her eye, still chuckling. “I was just thinking,” she says, her nose scrunching, something you haven’t seen on her and you find it quite… adorable. “You're like a shield now. As effective as Steve's vibranium one, maybe even more so.”

The absurdity of the statement causes you to finally join in her laugh, and your heart seems to flutter at the sound of Wanda's glee.

“I don't know about that,” you say, trying to sound modest but unable to keep the smile off your face. “Steve's shield has a bit more style.”

“Oh, I don't know,” Wanda teases, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “There's something quite stylish about being bulletproof. And practical too.”

Was that a compliment?

You shake your head, still smiling, your previous awkwardness forgotten. You're not only pleased at the first light banter you've shared with a teammate but also smiling at something else, something that stirs deep inside you and that you're not quite ready to confront.

Your crush on Wanda Maximoff.

The toll of the day's event is weighing down on you and Wanda, but like every mission, you're required to report the details of the mission–successful or not. Your muscles are sore, your mind is weary, but the mission was a success, and you can't help but feel a sense of accomplishment.

Arriving back at the Avengers compound, you follow Wanda into the debriefing room where Steve is waiting. Wanda explains what happened, how you discovered your newfound ability, and saved her life. Her voice is filled with respect and something more, something warmer, as she recounts your bravery.

Steve's face lights up with pride. “You both did well today. I'm proud of how you handled yourselves out there.”

You exchange a glance with Wanda, waiting for something more, perhaps some acknowledgment of your change in status within the team, or even an upgrade to your sleeping quarters. But instead, Steve simply nods, his face turning serious. “Dismissed.”

Wanda's face falls, and you feel a sharp pang of disappointment. You start to retreat towards your cell, the cold, windowless room that's been your home for months, but Wanda's voice stops you in your tracks.

“Wait a minute, Steve,” she protests. “After all that's happened, after all Y/N has done for us, don't you think it's time for a change? A real room, perhaps?”

Steve looks between you and Wanda. You hold your breath, hoping for a reprieve from the isolation you've been feeling.

Finally, Steve sighs, his face softening. “Wanda, if it were up to me, Y/N would have their own room already. But it's not that simple,” he explains, his voice strained. “I still need to place an official request with Tony. He's the one who approves these things.”

You can hear the frustration in Steve's voice, and you realize that he's fighting for you, in his own way.

“Fine,” Wanda says, crossing her arms. “But this needs to be done quickly, Steve. It's not right.”

“I agree. I'll talk to Tony first thing tomorrow.”

As you turn to leave and retreat back to your cell, Wanda's hand on your arm stops you, and you look back at her, surprised by the action.

“Come with me,” she says. Without another word, she leads you towards her quarters.

Your heart quickens at her words, and you follow her, trying to process what's happening.

Is she really inviting you to stay in her room?

Once inside her quarters, the reality of the situation sinks in, and a nervous tension takes hold. Her room is filled with personal touches–little trinkets, photographs, her clothes all over the place–that provide glimpses into a life you've only seen from a distance. You feel like an intruder, momentarily paralyzed as you take in the intimacy of her space.

Wanda seems to pick up on your hesitation, her eyes narrowing as she studies you. A smirk plays on her lips as she teases, “Don't look so terrified. I won't bite.”

You chuckle at her remark. “Well, that's a relief.”

Wanda's eyes sparkle with amusement, and she moves further into the room, gesturing for you to follow. “Make yourself at home,” she says. She then goes to the closet and begins to pull out a spare pillow and blanket. “You'll be staying here with me until we sort out a room for you,” she says.

“Thanks, Wanda,” you say softly.

Without further comment, you move to make your bed on the floor, your movements deliberate and slow as you try to give her space and respect her privacy.

“What are you doing?” Wanda asks, her eyes widening as she realizes your intention.

“I'm just getting ready to sleep,” you explain, feeling slightly embarrassed. “I'm quite tired.”

“No, what are you doing on the floor?” she clarifies, a hint of disbelief in her voice. “You're sharing the bed with me.”

“I wouldn't want to impose,” you say, though the offer is tempting.

“You're not imposing,” Wanda assures you, her eyes sincere. “You've earned a proper bed, and I trust you.”

The word 'trust' hits you like a wave, and you feel tears pricking at the back of your eyes.

Blinking them back, your voice cracks a little as you reply, “Thank you, Wanda. That means more to me than you know.”

“Good night, Y/N,” Wanda whispers, turning on her side to face you.

“Good night, Wanda,” you say, just as softly.

You both settle on the bed, and with a flick of her wrist, Wanda uses her powers to switch off the light.

The softness of Wanda's bed is worlds away from the harsh, unforgiving mattress in your cell. You find yourself sinking into the plush comfort, every muscle in your body releasing the tension from the dangerous mission earlier. The scent of Wanda on the pillows only adds to the incomparable comfort they provide. The difference is staggering, and it contributes to you falling asleep much more quickly than you have in a long time.

In the middle of the night, you're stirred awake by the feeling of Wanda rolling closer to you. Her arm finds its way over your stomach, and her soft snores fill the room. Being ever alert, the small action wakes you, but as soon as you realize it's just Wanda, a smile forms on your face.

You lie there for a moment, taking in the warmth and the gentle pressure of her hand. A soft blush creeps up your cheeks as you place your hand over hers to keep it there.

You've become more than just teammates.

You've become friends.

And maybe, just maybe, something more.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x you #wanda maximoff #unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda maximoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff #captain america civil war #the avengers #oneshots #steve rogers #fic request

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nyctoaerah · 4 months ago

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Yandere!Limerence!Giyuu Hc's pls? Both nsfw and sfw<3 your writing is so good btw! I'm inlove with limerence🤍🤍 sorry if it's not specific enough 🥹 I just can't get enough of giyuu<3

⋆♱⋆IN LIMERENCE

Warnings: Yandere Behaviors, Loads of Manipulation and Gaslighting, Stalking, Nsfw in the end, tiny bit of somno at the end. MDNI

Pairings: Yandere! Giyuu Tomioka x Fem! Androphobic Reader

The moment that Giyuu finds out about your fear of men, he resorts to an act of shame: He pretended to be a girl, knowing full well how deeply traumatized you are by your male comrades—hell you’re even afraid of your own mentor — Uzui, so who’s to say that you wouldn’t be scared of him if you find out that he’s a male?

So In an act of desperation, he lowers himself so low, because he doesn’t want you to hate him, reasoning with himself that you already see him as a girl anyway, like, his pronouns suddenly turns from he/him to she/her whenever you’re near, not only that, he makes sure to make his voice as soft and as feminine as possible whenever you’re near, after all, he can’t have his pretty darling afraid of him now, can he?

He doesn’t mind wearing makeup or lipstick as long as it doesn’t jeopardize his cover. The other Hashiras were beginning to question whether Giyuu was transgender, and while this wounded his pride, his primary desire for you to be comfortable with him was more stronger than the shame he’s feeling.

He gets jealous whenever you’re near Mitsuri and Shinobu, because he knew damn well that those two girls obviously has feelings for you and they have a lot of chance with you, considering your androphobia — and the fact that there’s a 70% chance that you might be a girl kisser.

He doesn’t like the fact that the two girls, Especially mitsuri — who wasn’t afraid of showing her feelings for you, always hugging you and bombarding you with compliments. Because honestly, what’s the point of having those two girls around when you can have him instead?

He showers you with gifts and often treats you to outings, but truthfully? Those are just his ploys to isolate you from everyone else, after all, he craves your presence and has already sunk to great lows for you; and he definitely won’t let you slip away from his fingers.

He would always stalk you, so he would eventually find out the things that you liked, the things that makes you tick, your fear, and other stuff, and he uses it to his own advantage — especially your androphobia, saying things about the other hashiras, especially the male ones, about how they treat him so bad, and how they make him feel like an outcast. And honestly? you’ll have a hard time trying to find out whether he’s being genuine or not, because it was very obvious that the other hashiras dislikes him. The fact that he’s such a soft-spoken manipulator doesn’t help either

He’s totally into it when you play with his hair; it’s like his personal spa day, He’ll plop his head on your lap like it’s a throne, soaking up your ramblings like they’re the latest gossip,

Here’s where it gets a tad too cozy: whenever you’re yapping about the mysteries of the universe, and there he is, lounging on your lap, His fingers would start their little expedition up your thigh, but don’t worry, he’s a gentleman—he’ll halt if you give him a swat or tell him to stop. But if you let him continue? Well, let’s just say that’s a one-way ticket to a very different conversation.

Giyuu really loves pleasuring you with his fingers and mouth, his fingers would drill deep into your dripping pussy, while he whispers sweet nothings into your ears while he fingers you. Yet, beneath this guise of sweetness, a hidden agenda brews. He hopes—prays—that the intensity of your ecstasy will render you oblivious to the prominent bulge that would always tent his pants, whenever he would get the chance to get in your pants.

He totally shuts you down when it comes to him getting any pleasure, like, no way! If you did, you’d realize he’s definitely a guy, not a girl! So, it’s mostly him just giving you some action. Deep down, he’s kinda happy you’re not sexually active and just goes with the flow. And Honestly? He probably thinks you’re asexual. But man, when he gets all worked up and his cock starts leaking and getting painfully hard, he just ends up taking care of it himself. Sometimes, though, when you’re snoozing, he can’t help but use your hand to get himself off instead.

©𝐍𝐲𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐚𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐡 || 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 || 𝐋𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐩𝐚𝐝.

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬, 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝.♡

𝐀/𝐍: WOAHHH, this is the first time i got asked for hc’s on one of my books😭😭 so this is actually pretty unique LOL. Anyways, this hc’s is based of my book: Limerence. It’s a yandere!kny book and it’s a harem — it’s why mitsuri and shinobu r said to have feelings for you:) you can go check it out on my wattpad! It’s the rewritten version, but if you read the quotev version (the previous one) it’ll make sense why reader thinks that giyuu is a girl, since the rewritten version hasn’t reached that part yet. But i suggest that you read the rewritten version more cause the orig is cringe af LOL.

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milksuu · 1 year ago

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Sorry, Mom. I'm The New Cleaning Lady For Heartsteel

Pairings: various!Heartsteel x f!reader

Status: on-going (Cross posted on AO3)

Content/Warnings: 18+ content, explicit themes, suggestive language

Summary: Identity theft was a crime—that was obvious. But when it meant paying off the bills for basically existing and your mother’s hospital expenses, committing a felony didn’t seem like a bad thing. It was like that one quote, from that one band, with that one hit song: “Two sides to a story but they never tell me side.”

Or…something like that. Wait, what was their name again? Heartsteel? Sounds like a dating sim game.

[Reader takes the identity of her mother, who had been hired to be the new cleaning lady for an up and coming boy band named ‘Heartsteel’. Obviously, there’s no way they would ever find out. But that was a joke. Because they’re definitely finding out: one by one.]

“You…brought your own cleaning supplies?”

“You always need to be prepared, young man,” you replied, adjusting your duck-yellow cleaning gloves. They squeeked and flopped comically around your hand and fingers.

“Ma’am, you do understand today is solely the house tour.” The man folded his arms neatly against his chest, white brow raised. “In order to rely on you fully, you’ll need to be familiar with the estate first. I thought we discussed this beforehand. That and…we have cleaning supplies to provide you with here.”

You paused at the grand modern entrance. You lifted your bucket full of sponges, brushes, and cleaning spray from the dollar store. 'Buy-one-get-one' on all cleaning supplies was the grand deal of the day. How could you pass a penny-pinching bargain? Swallowing your shame, you settled the cheap items on the pristine granite floors.

“Oh, is that so? Must’ve slipped my mind. Age will do that to you.” You forced a chuckle, adjusting your sterile mask across your youthful face. “That and, I have such a passion for cleaning. I can't help myself. I see the inside of a house, and I just have to clean it. I’m sure you could understand that.”

“I don’t believe I could,” your employer said dryly. “Anyway, if you will, follow me.”

You nodded and shuffled along accordingly. As you stared into the back of his immaculately pressed business attire, a new-found horror struck through you: you had no clue what your employer’s name was. Frantically, you scavenged your pockets. From it, you pulled out a business card, holding it so close to your face you smelled the tinge of clean cologne.

YONE

RIOT RECORDS

DJ / PRODUCER

EMAIL: [email protected]

TELEPHONE: XXX-XXX-XXXX

“The bottom floor consists of all of the amenities; gym, entertainment area, recording studio and so on.” Yone stated as he stepped into the open-kitchen plan. When he regarded you again, you awkwardly plunged the card back into your pants pocket. “The boys have their own scheduled chores every week. They’re expected to do it without you having to help them. I’m trying to keep them humble, but easier said than done. Refer to the chore calendar on the fridge. And try not to interfere with it too much.”

“Okay—who switched my protein powder with flour?” Behind an opened cabinet, a heavy-muscled stacked man growled. “Guys. Seriously. This stuff’s expensive. Where’d it go?” When he poured the contents out into the trash can, he plucked out a note from the bottom of the canister. The small print read:

‘Protein powder tastes like dog food.’’

The weight of realization punched him square between the eyes. He threw open the pantry, where dog kibble was stored in a tub at the bottom marked ‘Ernest’. Sett pulled open the container, and sure enough, found his protein powder and scooper. There was no mistaking his favorite smell of cinnamon crunch isolate, now mixed with the scent of dry-bacon kibble. Another note pasted the inside lid:

‘Woof–Woof ฅ՞•ﻌ•՞ฅ’

“A–phe–li–os,” the name gritted between his canines. His ears flattened against his untamed hair, and crumpled the note to dust in his palm. “Oh–Ho. Mess with me all you want; but never mess with my gains. I’m gonna’ prank him back so hard tonight, he’s gonna’ be begging me to stop.”

“Sett,” Yone coughed, grabbing the Vistayan's attention. “We have a guest today. Our new cleaning lady.”

“Oh, sorry about that.” Sett wiped his powdered hand against his sleeveless shirt. He reached and took your rubber glove with a squelch. “Hey, how’s it goin’, Ma’am. The name’s Sett.”

You swallowed hard, hoping your glove would remain securely covering your hand. You feared if he pulled back, he would reveal a hand that wasn't so wrinkled for someone supposedly in their late-fifties. And that was according to your mother’s age printed on her driver’s license. Thankfully, you could tell he restrained himself to a delicate shake.

“Would talk more but gotta hit the gym. Nice meetin’ yah though,'' Sett started away, and called back over his shoulder. “Mom, can you take care of Phel for me? I dunno' where he hid the dog food for Ernest.”

Yone exhaled a silent sigh, and part of you felt pity for your employer. He seemed like a parent with a tag-team of overbearing children running around the house. Being a single parent was difficult; you knew this first hand from your own up-bringing. It made you grateful for your mother’s patience and attention. It was the reason you were here in the first place.

“Let’s continue with the tour upstairs,” Yone said, motioning you to a loft-style staircase. “The second floor consists of all the bedrooms and laundry room. At the end of the hall is my room. As it stands, it’s completely off limits to everyone, including yourself.” He turned a sharp chin in your direction, “Am I understood?”

You gulped and pressed your shoulders straight. “Of course.”

“Mommy, help me!” A bed of green hair bounced to Yone’s side, tugging at his tailored suit. “Kayn’s bullying me again. But I didn’t do anything wrong, I swear.”

“You’re such a crappy liar.” The presumed assailant, Kayn, stomped out of the hallway bathroom. Magenta hair stuck to his furrowing brows. With just a towel wrapped around his steaming waist, his abdominal muscles tensed, pointing aggressively at his target. “I was trying to shower in peace, until bubblegum pop princess over here came barging in trying to take selfies of himself. Did you know people usually shower naked? I’d like my junk not to be posted on social media, unless I’m the one doing it. For cash.”

“It’s not my fault you’re always going over your shower limit. News flash: we each only get fifteen-minutes. But you’re always breaking the rules! You know I take my selfies at the same time, at the same place, every single day. So how about you do us all a favor, and get some better time management?”

Kayn raised a vein popping fist into the air. “How about I get you a better face instead?"

Ezreal cried fake sparkling tears, cowering further behind their producer.

“Enough. The both of you,” Yone tightened around his words like a leash, restraining the quarreling pair. “For once, I’d like for you two to at least pretend you get along in front of others.”

The two whined and grumbled under their breaths till they fell to a silent agreement. But the peace treaty wasn’t upheld for long. You saw a zap of yellow from the corner of your eye. The image was so fast, you thought you must’ve imagined it—Nope. You definitely saw something. Kayn’s towel knot popped loose. And it wasn’t caused by an event of divine intervention.

The towel billowed towards the ground. And the world felt as if it was turning in slow motion, like one of those car chase movies with excessive explosions. Except, the only explosion here would be your very own heart.

Sure, you took an anatomy class here and there. In high school, you remembered the penis joke’s and games, and they never flustered you. Heck, not even when your friends set your desktop screen to a .gif of dicks spinning in circles—you found that hilarious. And when anatomy classes began in college, they were all very clinical, rudimentary, and otherwise a snooze fest.

But seeing one in real life when you’ve never had a boyfriend or a one night stand, was truly groundbreaking. Earth shattering, even.

Penis (en)counter: 1

While you were stuck in your prison of naïve embarrassment, Ezreal laughed and pulled out his cell phone, camera light shuttering a mile a minute.

“You little shi—!” Time sped forward again. With fast reflexes of his own, Kayn whipped the towel and knot back in place. “That’s it. You’re dead.”

“Uh–Oh. Time to run again,” Ezreal quipped, zooming off down the stairs.

With all bark and full bite, Kayn vanished like a cloud of smoke in pursuit. You coughed against the smog, while Yone merely swatted his hand back and forth, dissipating the gray wisps.

“You’ll have to excuse them,” he commented. “They share the same room, but have vastly different personalities. I arranged most of them together, thinking it’d help them understand each other on a deeper level. And ultimately, help them perform better together in the studio and on stage. My efforts are…yet to be determined.”

“That’s alright. Can’t be easy for young men their age to share anything. Especially with them being full of energy, testosterone, and other things. O-Oh, to be young once more…ah-ha…” you laughed nervously. Oh, God. What the heck were you saying? Honestly, you had to give pardon to yourself. You were still trying to recover from seeing your first penis up close and personal.

The image would be forever burned in your mind.

You were pulled from your self-conscious thoughts. Down the hall, a pair of shadowed eyes peeked through a sliver of door and frame. When your gaze locked together, the other pair of eyes shifted shyly from side to side. As if a poltergeist existed within the room, the visage faded back into the uncanny crack of darkness. The door creaked closed, with an audible click and lock.

Yone pursued straight to the door, and you stood a few paces back. If there was any chance that a ghost was inside living rent-free, you wouldn't be the first it possessed. You weren't a certified Ghostbuster.

But you also weren't a certified Dustbuster, either. No one will know, know one will know, you chanted the comforting hymn.

“Aphelios. Open the door. I know you’re in there. I can see the computer light flashing,” Yone stated, rattling the door knob. “Where’s the kibble for the dog? Sett told me you have it somewhere.”

There was a beat in the air. From behind the door, you heard feet pacing back and forth, and the sounds of finger taps against a phone screen. Yone’s phone pinged with an alert. He pulled it out, and opened his text messages.

‘I can’t open the door all the way. I set the bucket of dog food to fall on Sett’s head when he comes in. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ’

“For the love of…no more pranks today." Yone pinched the bridge of his nose with a groan. "But I doubt you could even manage that. Whatever trap you’ve ensembled, take it down—now. And put the dog’s food back in the pantry. Unless you want to donate a cut of your earnings every month to Ernest’s pet store bill.”

Another pause, followed by begrudging phone taps.

‘Fine, m O T h E r…(¬_¬")’

“That might take him a few. Depending how intricate the set up was. I would be surprised if the only thing involved in this scheme was just the dog food.” Yone motioned you back down the stairs. “Last thing to see is the outdoor space.”

Continuing with the tour, you passed through the lower floor, stepping down a hallway decorated with awards and magazine clippings. From commercial modeling gigs to sold out venues, your eyes glistened at the polished look the group was slowly cultivating. Which you had to admit, completely contradicted their personal lives.

When you reached a sliding glass door that stretched from floor to ceiling, you stepped out onto a landscaped deck. Lush modern garden trims, a shaded outdoor lounge, and smooth sandstone pavement decorated the space. At the backend, an infinity pool rested in pristine stillness.

At the head of the pool, a person of sculpted bronze physique posed in swimwear on a lounge chair. When you approached along with your chaperone, he picked up his tropical drink, and tilted it in a cheering gesture.

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t Mama gracing me with his presence. And look's like someone else is with him, too.” The man basking in the sun's rays and oil slicked, shucked his sunglasses onto his dread locks. “Let me guess. This must be the new cleaning lady you hired to pick up after our mess.”

“To a certain degree,” Yone replied. “But not all of the mess, K’Sante. Out of everyone, you should know better.”

“I only joke, Mama.” He grinned smoothly, taking a sip of his frozen alcoholic refresher. “Say, have you seen Sett? I told him to come join me for a tan by the pool. If he wants his muscles to truly pop, he needs to use some oil and not be allergic to the sun. The man is whiter than the sky is bright today.”

As he laughed to himself, Ernest left his chew toy at the far side of the pool, and came to sniff your shoes. With a smile, you slipped a very small piece of your long sleeve up, allowing him to sniff at your skin. The dog lapped his tongue around his slobbering chops, barking delightedly and pawing for you to pet him. You were more than happy to oblige.

These gloves came in handy after all, you thought pleasantly as globs of saliva fell in heaps over your fingers.

“What’s this? Ernest taking a liking to the cleaning lady already,” K’Sante mused at the sight. “Barely warmed up to us when we first met. We won’t mention the illegal trespassing but, call me impressed.”

With a wink, he flicked his sunglasses back down to the bridge of his nose. “That or he has a ‘ting for older women. Can’t say I blame ‘em. An experienced woman has a certain power that’ll make any grown man cry. And from my own experience, it is never for mercy.”

Oh, boy. You couldn’t imagine your mother being interested in the cougar life-style. Not that you would approve of it. And you were certain your father would descend from the heavens and deliver the backhand of God to any young man who dared otherwise.

Before Yone could address the unsavory statement, Ezreal burst through the backyard sliding doors. Still possessed with laughter, he hopped and skipped over pool chairs and tables. The merriment stopped short when Kayn caught up to the cheeky idol, snatching his wrist which held the phone. From the staggering halt, the phone slipped from Ezreal’s hold, somersaulting towards the pool.

“M-My phone!” Ezreal paled at the thought of losing thousands of stored photos of himself—Oh, and the blackmail photos he was going to use against Kayn, too.

Yanking his wrist free, Ezreal pursued the device. But Ernest’s rubber hotdog toy squealed beneath him, forcing him off balance. Kayn latched an arm around Ezreal's slim waist, and pressed him safely against his bare chest.

He huffed against Ezreal's ear. “You can’t swim, you idiot. Remember? Just let it go.”

Ernest barked at the surmounting commotion. Being the valiant guard dog with the perfect pedigree, he bounded on his thick paws to catch Kayn by the towel, with all the intent to keep them both from falling in. What a good boy! Unfortunately for Kayn, Ernest bit a bit more than he could chew.

Kayn’s voice bass boosted ten-octaves lower. “MY DAMN ASS!”

W-Whose voice was that? Was that even the same person? The thought rattled through you.

A chunk of Kayn's soft meat condensed in the jaws of a furry devil. A shock travelled up the nerves of his spine, into the the muscle fibers of his arm, shoving Ezreal forward. Ezreal flailed his hands in the air, desperate to find some semblance of balance—with no luck, at all. Fumbling on his tip-toes, Ezreal plummeted into the pool with a splash. Kayn stumbled from the after-shock of his spirit being bitten straight through his buttcheeks. His feet met the cursed rubber squeaker, sending him following suit into the pool. Except, the towel had its own plans. It decided to stay behind and not get involved.

Penis (en)counter: 2

“I heard some commotion, fellas. What’s goin’ on?” Sett stepped out from the sliding doors. He caught witness of Ezreal’s face treading water, gasping for bouts of air. Sett’s muscles popped at the sight, barreling towards the scene. “Don’t worry, Ez. I’m coming for yah, buddy!”

Sett launched himself into the air, preparing the most athletic Olympic dive ever conceived.

Kayn inhaled sharply as he broke through the water's surface tension. Recuperating his breaths, he slicked his wet hair back from his face. Looking down at the waters crystal reflection, an odd shadow grew in size around him. And according to the forecast earlier; there was no chance in Hell of clouds or rain. Lifting his nose to the darkening sky, he blanched in sheer horror. A body, massive enough to eclipse the sun, hurled down like a meteor descending to Earth.

What day was it today, Doomsday? He must've forgot; Kayn never bothered to look at calendar's, anyway.

Back to the painful mistress that was his life; a weak, painful moan escaped him. “You can’t be serious. This isn’t the cool death I deserve—”

Those were Kayn’s final words. A wave rivaling a tsunami consumed him, a random pizza chair float, and the immediate surrounding pool area. Standing in the designated splash zone, pool water soaked your soles, leached into your socks, and dampened your pants to the knees. From K’Sante’s spot, a shot of chlorine or two spiked his drink. He snatched his sunglasses off and shouted the words; “This was the last bit of banana daiquiri mix, you aboas! Now I have to go down to the liquor store and hope they sell it frozen already.”

Yone, with all the grace anyone could hope to be blessed with, merely side-stepped away. A single speck landed on his polished shoes. He narrowed his steely eyes, flicking away the insignificant drop.

You caught something flashing on the second floor of the estate. Looking up, you shielded your eyes from the glaring sun. From one of the windows, you spotted someone holding up a sign. You assumed it was Aphelios. The poster read:

‘4/10 Ezreal. 6/10 Kayn. 10/10 Sett.’

With a dramatic burst through the water, Sett hurled Ezreal over his massive shoulder, and walked out of the pool. Placing Ezreal onto his soaking back, he coughed and gagged against the awful taste of treated water.

He smiled at his new-found savior. “Thanks, Sett. I’m fine, but what about Kayn…”

The group shifted their attention over the silent, lapping water. After a bubble or two, the sight of Kayn’s bare bottom surfaced to the top. Floating like a wet and rounded land-mass, with the additional landmark of a pink dog-bite.

“Kayn! Hang in there, pal!” Sett launched himself once more into the water, creating another wave of soaking magnitude.

Although the drink had already been spoiled, K’Sante reflexively covered the top of his daiquiri glass. “For God’s sake, Sett. Take your time. It’s not like you’re saving the life of an innocent man.”

As chaos continued to ensue around the gang, Yone placed himself at your side. With a shake of his head, he crossed his arms, and sent a ghost of a smile your way.

“Welcome to Heartsteel,” he said. “Your first day starts tomorrow.”

Looks like your identity was safe…for now, at least.

an: thanks for reading! the rest of the this story will most likely just be on my AO3. You can find me @ milksuu. comments and suggestions always welcomed. <3

#heartsteel #league of legends #Heartsteel x reader #kayn x reader #ezreal x reader #aphelios x reader #Sett x reader #K'Sante x reader #Yone x reader #reader insert #league of legends fanfiction #cross posted on ao3 #divider by @benkeibear

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gracieheartspedro · 7 months ago

Text

Your Needs, My Needs

I : Strawberry Wine

a masterlist of how you can help gaza

the prelude to this series

pairing: cowboy!joel x f!reader (no outbreak)

description: joel fixes your toilet but you can't help but yearn for more time with him. so you invite him to dinner and try to win his stomach? aka love?

word count: 3.2k words

warnings: there is no smut in this part. still MINORS DNI! no use of y/n! vague talk of reader's old life before texas, no real description of the reader, reader does have anxiety/mental illness that is not fully recognized/diagnosed, mentions of eating food, reader lives alone, reader got MONEYYYY, mentions of joel's ex wife (gasp), alcohol consumption, smoking cigarettes, kissing, flirting. all the fluffy stuff <3

author's note: hey...hey.... how y'all doing?? i'm so so so sorry this has taken so long. my life has been crazy for the last like 4 months and I'm finally getting settled into my life again. I miss y'all and I miss writing, so HERE I AM! I'm hoping everyone who wanted me to tag them months ago is still cool with me tagging them 4 months later lol. okay, lemme know what you think xoxo

Joel comes and goes for days. The first day he returns, he inspects your toilet again and tells you he has the wrong tools. You discuss a game plan and by his initial projections, your toilet should be fixed the next day. But when he fails to come by in the morning, you decide to call the phone number on the post-it note he left for you the day before.

The phone rings and you get an answering machine of a younger girl telling you to leave her and Dad a message after the beep. When the line lets out a long ding, you breathe out the random croak in your throat.

“Uh, hey, Joel, it’s me. Just seeing if you’re stopping by today. If not, that’s fine, I’ll be home all day today and tomorrow. Okay, uh, bye.”

Hours go by and you find yourself pacing, regretting your decision to leave him a message. What if he gets it and thinks that you’re crazy?

Ever since you had made his acquaintance, you felt completely reliant on interacting with him. It may be due to the fact that you haven’t socialized with anyone else in months. You were very good at isolating yourself, but lately, it’s been eating you alive being so alone. Now that you had this big house, the silence felt almost too quiet. Joel’s southern drawl and straightforward responses gave a bit of light back to your life.

Around dinner time, your landline rings. You practically fall over your couch racing to pick it up, hoping it was him.

“Howdy neighbor,” He grunts through the phone, “Sorry I didn’t come by today, hope ya didn’t miss me too much.”

You let out a dry laugh, trying not to sound too giddy about him following up with you. You were borderline pathetic.

“No, I just wanted to make sure you were still alive,” You manage to get out, “You are still alive right?”

“Still kickin’, just busy as all get out. ‘M fixin’ to head to your place now if you’re not busy.”

You look down at your pajamas and start to nod. It’s not like he can see you through the phone, but you are reacting to his words like he’s right in front of you.

“Sure thing, I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

“So… It’s really just you here? All by your lonesome?”

He’s messing with his toolbox, searching for the one tool he needs to fix the toilet. You stir your fresh brewed tea, ensuring none of the sugar clumps up at the bottom of the mug. You had offered him some, but he politely declined, telling you that he had a big dinner.

You take a sip, testing the sweetness. “Just me. How about you? Just you and your daughter, right?”

He laughs heartedly, turning towards you from where he’s squatted. You look at him with curious eyes, unsure if you asked the wrong question. He stands up, a wrench in his hand, a smile still spread across his face.

“Her mama left town with her new boyfriend about 5 years ago. Wanted the city life, not the life I gave her. It’s been just me and her ever since.”

So he’s single. You think to yourself.

You realize the laugh was probably because of how absurd and new it must be for someone to ask him about his life. He grew up here and you are positive everyone here already knew all about his business. You are a breath of fresh air for him.

Before the silence becomes awkward, you speak up. “City life ain’t worth a shit.”

“Yeah, she’s different. Won’t speak ill of her ‘cause that’s my bosses’ mama. She sees her now and again. They are just very different.”

The conversation comes easy with Joel. While the first couple of interactions you two shared were a bit strained, after days of small talk, you realize he’s the truest Southern gentleman you’ve ever interacted with. Polite with a little bite. He never speaks ill of others, except his brother. He loves to pick on Tommy. He seems like an attentive father. He loves to pick at you, always pointing out your Northern tendencies. Your horrible driving. Your accent and your speech patterns. But he’s also very complimentary. A couple of days ago, he remarked how nice your perfume was when you were standing close to him. It made your heart skip a beat.

And on top of all of those things, he’s very easy on the eyes.

“That’s mighty fine of you not speaking ill of your ex,” You try to drag out the silly Southern saying, which causes him to chuckle again. You smack your lips before continuing, “Wish I could do the same.”

You are not sure what he’s doing to the tank of your toilet, but you watch him strain to get a piece out of the corner with the wrench he has. He clenches his teeth, turning the piece to the left to loosen it.

“Exes are exes for a reason,” He grunts, fiddling with some more things in the tank, “I ain’t too hung up on datin’ right now. I got my girl and my horses.”

“And now you got me, your annoying neighbor who almost crashes into your horses and asks you to fix toilets.”

He breathes out loudly, “Yeah, ‘nother pain in my ass. Just what a man needs.”

The toilet is fixed too quickly. You had busied yourself with other small cleaning tasks that when Joel finds you in the kitchen doing dishes, he startles you. It took him about 15 minutes to finish the job and you had thought you could at least finish up the dishes you made from dinner.

“‘M all finished up. Gotta get back home to do some rounds at the stables,” He says as he waltzes over to your paper towel holder. He grabs a sheet and begins to wipe his damp hands, “Anythin’ else for me today?”

You turn off the running water, going down a list of fixes you could ask him to do. You decide it’s probably best to just ask him to swing by another day to help you with other things.

“No, thank you though, Joel. I am sure I’ll be by to ask for more help,” You chuckle, shaking your hands dry, “I owe you dinner or something.”

As you say it, it feels like all the air leaves your lungs. He’s staring at you and there’s a glint in his eyes. You are not that good at reading people, mostly because you are deathly afraid of being wrong. His eyebrows raise as he leans against the counter near you. He’s so close and in your space, but you try to push the thought of him coming onto you out of your mind.

“What’do you got on the menu tomorrow?”

His voice is kind of husky which makes your brain draw a blank. You wipe your hands on your pants before crossing the kitchen to check your fridge. You glance through your ingredients, settling for the only dinner item you can conjure up that his southern palette may like.

“Baked chicken and vegetables?”

He nods, tossing his paper towel into the bin beside you. “Yeah, I've been needing a home-cooked meal. Think I could come over at like 5? Tomorrow?”

You recollect a time when a guy showed interest in wanting to hang out with you outside of work. It had been years and he was not nearly as attractive as the man in front of you.

You nod slowly, trying not to look too robotic due to your nerves. “Sure thing, cowboy.”

You did not know what to wear. You contemplated going into town to see what the local boutiques had but you ran the risk of Joel seeing you out. You didn’t even know if this was a date.

You settle on a sundress you have owned since high school. It’s the perfect length and while your mind goes to wanting to impress Joel, you also need to be comfortable.

You cleaned your house, adding some new decorations to your living room walls. You even clean your sheets and make sure your bedroom is vacuumed.

When the time comes for Joel to arrive, you pace the kitchen anticipating the doorbell. You already had all the food prepped and ready to put in the oven. The vegetables have been cut and seasoned. Everything was just the way you needed it to be.

Joel gets there 5 after your scheduled time. When you welcome him at the door, his hair is styled and you can tell he put on his “fancy jeans”.

What you didn’t expect was the bouquet of flowers he had in his hands.

“Afternoon, neighbor,” He begins before extending the floral arrangement towards you, “My girl said I had to bring you something nice. Somethin’ bout being a gentleman.”

You smile widely, giving flowers all your attention. Even with the fragrant bouquet, you get a whiff of his sandalwood cologne.

“Nice to see you cleaned up for me, cowboy. Come on in, dinner is about to get put in the oven.”

You catch him scanning you up and down when you place the spread of chicken and vegetables on the table. He was in the midst of talking about his daughter and her band fundraiser, but he completely halted when you took notice of his staring.

You settle into the dining room chair across from him, waiting for him to continue, but he doesn’t.

“She needs more sponsors?” You break the silence, wanting to move away from the sudden awkwardness.

He swallows, reaching for the serving fork, “Oh, yeah. She needs to reach a certain goal to go on her senior band trip.”

You try to avoid his wandering gaze again, focusing on organizing your plate of vegetables. “Where are they going?”

“Disney. She ain’t never been out of Texas, so she really wants to go.”

You remember all the trips your family said they’d go on to Disney, but they never did. Your father could not stand being around his own children, let alone other people’s children. You think about how he used to complain about your constant questions, all the times he completely ignored you for your brother. You start to spiral, the anxiety creeping up in the back of your throat. You push your chair out from under the table, excusing yourself for a moment. You go to the bar you have set up in the living room and grab the only sweet wine you have. Strawberry. You grab two glasses from the top of the setup and walk back to Joel.

“Forgot wine,” you mumble, setting a glass in front of him, “You want some?”

He is already picking at his chicken, “Yeah, I’ll take some.”

You are quiet as you uncork it expertly, pouring it into each of the glasses. Joel watches you like a hawk. You can tell he’s trying to read your expression, so you try your best to remain neutral even though your hands are shaking.

You place the bottle in the middle of the table, making sure it’s easily reachable.

You finally sit back down, sipping the red liquid. The strawberry flavor isn’t very strong, it’s more like a hint of the berry. You had gotten the bottle from a roadside stand in Kentucky. An older lady who must have owned a vineyard nearby was selling them for $5 each. You told yourself you would only use it for a special occasion. This event seemed fitting.

Wine always makes you flushed, but you are always a bit flushed around Joel. Even more so when he’s watching you so intently.

After a couple of sips, you finally rest your shoulders and begin to eat your dinner.

“I could sponsor her,” you finally say, returning to the previous conversation. For some reason, you felt obligated. Joel quickly retaliates, shaking his head as he chewed on your roasted veggies.

“You ain’t gotta do that, doll.”

The nickname rings in your ears. You take another sip of wine. You can tell Joel notices your reaction because he smirks with his mouth full.

“But I want to, Joel. I’m sure she has worked hard her high school career, she deserves to have fun.”

He hums, but still shakes his head negatively, “I can’t let you just pay for-”

“You can and you will,” You enjoy another bite, smirking at your defiance towards him. He looks perplexed. “So when is this fundraiser? Is there like a dinner or something?”

He finally caves, “This Friday at the school. It’s a dinner and auction. I guess if the kids don’t find their sponsors, some local businesses are willing to sponsor them.”

“Are you going?”

“Yeah,” He cuts up his chicken, “I guess you’re gonna come along, too, if you’re givin’ my girl all that money.”

“Does a check work?”

He sits back in his chair, already finishing off his wine, “You seriously don’t have to-”

“What are neighbors for, Joel?”

He nods, “You mean friends.”

You furrow your brows, trying to let your hazy mind find a time when you called him your friend. This was a new development.

“Friends, huh?”

He pours more in his glass, “Well, I’d like to think so.”

The wine is hitting your system and you realize your arms feel lighter. You grab the stem of your glass and tip it up to down the rest of the alcohol. Joel’s eyes are trained on you, waiting for a snarky response.

“Do friends stare at other friends like that?” You pour more wine for yourself. You realize he’s done eating so before he can respond to your flirtation, you speak up again, “You done with that?”

He looks down at his empty plate, “Yes, ma’am.”

“Yes friends look at other friends like that, or you’re done eating.”

He grins, “‘m done eating, doll.”

You two find your way out to the rocking chairs. They were left there by the previous owners and you could tell they were probably as old as you.

You had another full glass of wine, sipping it as Joel lit up a cigarette. He admitted it was only a bad habit when he was drinking, which was rare. “Sarah gets onto me when I have even one beer. So this has gotta be between us two.”

You swirl the crystal, watching him carefully take a drag of the stick. “Your secret is safe with me, cowboy.”

He giggles as he lets out a huff of smoke. “I haven’t had secrets in a long time. Guess I’m lucky it’s with the town stranger.”

The statement hits you in the very pit of your settling tummy. You furrow your eyebrows, leaning forward towards him. Your chairs are not that far away from one another, so this is probably the closest you have ever been to him except for that one moment in the kitchen.

“Luckiest man in Texas that’s for sure,” You muster, averting your eyes. You could not stare into his beautiful brown eyes for too long. “Having the privilege of getting me out of my head. No man has done that in years.”

“What? You not good at letting loose?”

You shake your head, knowing that he did not understand what you meant. You take a moment to inhale, finally glancing up at him again. “I think I may just be cursed.”

“Now, why do you say that?”

You contemplate spilling the beans. Letting your heart fall onto your sleeve after years of shielding it from anyone who looks your way. Your lips part, but no words come out. It’s just the sounds of the cicadas.

“As soon as something is good, it gets bad somehow. I don’t even get a moment to savor it.”

You feel the statement down to your bones. The last time you felt settled in your own life, the rug got pulled out from under you. You cannot remember a time when you truly felt present in a special moment. You always felt like you were floating outside of your body, watching things happen and never really truly feeling anything.

You don’t expect him to lean closer to you, “Whatever happened before you got here, you ain’t gotta worry about it anymore. You obviously put distance between you and what happened for a reason. Let this little side of the world be your home now.”

You push your spiraling thoughts away, letting him be right.

“I’m workin’ on getting settled. It’s easy when you have a handsome cowboy to help along the way.”

It comes out like word vomit. Between the wine and the nerves coursing through your entire being, you can’t help but admit your little crush on the man. You slap your free hand over your forehead, admitting defeat before he can even respond. You knew he would take the comment and run with it.

“You always flirt with your friends, sweetheart?” He was toying with you, which was a good sign. If he wasn’t interested, he wouldn’t call you such a thing.

You smile, releasing your face from your hand. His eyes are tracing every curve of your face, a subtle pass that you did not capture quickly enough.

“Only ones that fix my toilets.”

And then, he kisses you. It happens so quickly, that you don’t fully grasp that it’s happening until you're molding your lips into his. Once your buzzed brain picks up the fact that the man you have been crushing on is kissing you, he pulls away. Your eyes are still closed, your hands still gripping onto your wine glass.

He huffs loudly and stands up quickly. Once you place your eyes on him, he’s pacing around the back deck stairs, not too far from where you’re sitting. You instantly bite back the urge to ask him what’s wrong, because there’s always something wrong.

“‘M sorry, sweetheart. I should’na done that.”

He instantly regretted it. The thought made your throat tighten. He continues to walk back and forth, causing a draft.

“It’s fine, Joel. I’m n-not mad.”

He shakes his head, halting his robot-like movements. He finally looks at your pitiful expression and lets out a long sigh. “I don’t think I’m much of a gentleman, kissing you on the first date.”

You watch as he places his hands on his hips, contemplating his whole life right before your eyes. You realize he is too traditional to see that nowadays, people are sleeping together on the first date. First base is nothing. You rest your glass on a decrepit table next to you and stand up.

You slowly approach him, trying to catch a glance from him, but he continues to avert his eyes. You grow bold enough to tilt his chin towards you, letting your guard down for a moment.

“You’re such a gentleman, it hurts,” you whisper, slowly letting a smirk grow across your face. The comment makes his shoulders lower, finally relaxing from such a heated moment.

“Just don’t wanna mess this up with ya,” He murmurs, only letting you and the nearby fireflies hear you, “I enjoy spending time with you.”

You slowly lower your hand to your side, trying to act casually about the confession. But the truth is you want to run and wake up every cow and horse within a 10-mile radius with a squeal of delight.

“I like spending time with you, too, Joel.”

He takes your hand as you say it, bringing your knuckles up to his lips. His breath is hot on the back of your hand before he says, “Well now, I quite like the sound of that."

taglist (some of y'all can't be tagged, I tried lol)

@midnightdragonzero @casssiopeia @anoverwhelmingdin @notsosecretspy @raindrcpsangel @art-estrange @misstokyo7love @lizzie-cakes @d1lf-loverrr @ashleyfilm

@blckbrrybasket @cande-beggins @gloryekaterina @lilyevanstan1325 @frogtape @jamesdeerest @mellymbee @arrowsandanchor @polishedtaylor @harrieandharassed @ranahx @youwouldntdownloadapizza @jmillersgirl @wintersquirrel @stefanibear003 @joliettes @startsm00n @abbsfrommars @76bookworm76 @youotterbekiddingme @jodiswiftle

#joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #joel miller tlou #joel miller fanfic #joel miller au #joel miller the last of us #tlou au #pedro pascal characters #gracieheartspedro

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acapelladitty · 7 months ago

Note

Cooper gives big sub energy if you open your eyes wide enough, don't you think ditty?

A/N: Maybe not sub energy but please enjoy this little thing where Cooper is forced to eat his partner out for being an ass. (1.7k words)

(tw: face sitting, orgasm, oral sex, dirty talk, threat of violence, biting, come marking, playful snark, mild violence)

Call Out Loud For You

Link to AO3 series

Fic Masterlist

Standing at the foot of the large cot which you had both decided to claim as 'home' for the night, your hands felt heavy on your hip as you held your ground against the smug ghoul who lounged against the threadbare sheets.

It had been a rough day. A bounty hunt very quickly went sideways as an isolated raider turned out to be very non-isolated indeed. And his friends weren't willing to give him up without a fight. But, as always, when the dripping blood finally settled and the missing limbs had been counted, it was Cooper and yourself who emerged the victors.

But still.

He had been a prick about it.

"Apologise." You demanded, wounded pride making you determined to get at least that out of him.

Sucking his lips in to unleash a short whistle, Cooper was unrepentant.

"Ain't got nothing to apologise for, so I won't be wasting the words."

His arm is raised overhead, nude body laying out utterly shameless and reddened against the pale sheets. A rogue chain had caught him across the outer thigh and the marks there would take days to heal. Your efforts to help with the injury had been swiftly rebuffed as he realised you were still looking for an apology and he had instead elected to strip off and drop to the cot, claiming it as his own.

For someone who was so vilified and hated due to his appearance, it sure didn't seem to bother him when it suited his mood.

Deprived of your own clothes due to the sweltering heat of the approaching night, you stood before him with equal pride - refusing to back down.

He knew he was in the wrong.

Those little affectionate brushes against your back and casual grabs at your body that had punctuated throughout the day after the doomed raid had screamed his unspoken guilt. But his stubbornness was maddening.

As was how horny his little games had made you.

Fuck it.

You were getting yours, one way or another.

"You always told me that the only thing we get in the world is what we're willing to take."

Proclaiming the sage words from a scowling face, you throw the advice back at him like a horse kicking up dirt.

"That I did."

"Then lie your stupid ass flat out on that cot. Arms by your sides and legs straightened out."

Surprise crosses his face for only a moment before being swiped away by something lecherous as his right hand drops to cup at his cock, the thick length laying half-hard against his upper thigh.

"I don't see how riding this old stallion is going to get your point across but I ain't complaining."

Shaking your head as you climb into the cot, your body slithers up his own like a serpent coiling in the desert heat until you can straddle his waist - making a point to ignore his cock as you sit above it.

"I'm gonna sit on your face and you're gonna eat me out until I forget that I'm mad at you. You're going to treat my cunt like it's your last supper before they execute your stubborn ass."

Narrowing his brow, the missing hole where his nose should be flaring as he inhaled, Cooper shook his head with a somewhat playful defiance; most of his fire having been extinguished by your soft body atop his as his hands immediately flew to your hips and groped at the flesh there.

"The hell I am. That sounds like a sorry to me, darli-"

Your hand makes a resounding crack as it collides with his hollowed cheek. On a regular man, it would leave a livid mark, but on Cooper - his skin already a darker shade than anything you could accomplish - it is truly undetectable.

What is slightly more detectable is the sly smirk which curls at the corners of his ragged lips and the way his pupils seem to dilate as he inhales sharply once more.

"Oh, it's like that is it."

"Damn right." Running your thumb across the ridge of his cheek, neatly atop the area which you had just slapped, you enjoy the rough sensation of his skin against your own as his hands increase their grip of you. "And if I hear any more backtalk then I'll just smother you. End of all my problems."

A thoughtful hum rumbles past his throat, and you feel it through your palm as you spread your fingers across his chest.

"Not the worst way I've died." Cooper admits. "Alright, darlin', hop on. But don't say I didn't warn you."

Shuffling forward, your inner thighs burn as they swipe across his collarbone in their efforts to position yourself so that his face - eyes burning in the shadows of their sockets - was in a prime position to service your eager sex.

"Might be the last meal you get, handsome." Sighing out the words, you spread your knees wide as you take the time to ensure your own comfort. "So don't waste it."

His response is too low for you to pick up properly, the syllables more a growl than anything else, but you can hear the bitchy quality to his tone as he dutifully pushes his mouth up to brush along your cunt.

He immediately sets out to punish you for that earlier slap, sucking at your folds with his lips and teasing the skin with blunted teeth. It's a lot and your fingers curl against the wall which the head of the cot sits against as you resist the urge to press down harshly on his face.

He seems to be enjoying himself though, his tongue licking a sordid line from your hole to your clit in one solid stripe.

"Fuck, Cooper-" You whine, legs tightening around his shoulders as his tongue grazes your clit; a sensation which sends lightning up your spine as your body tenses involuntarily.

Knowing he hit a good spot, he repeats the feat. His roughened lips add a cruel intensity to his movements as he suckles at your most sensitive nerves. It's hot and intense and too fucking much-

Grinding your cunt down onto his face, you momentarily mourn his lack of nose as an amusing image of being able to swipe yourself across it for extra stimulation flits through your mind.

His tongue would do though and you press your cunt against his mouth with vigour, forcing him to abandon your clit and refocus his attention on your hole. You're already painfully wet, his tongue lapping up more moisture than it was providing, and you feel him growl against your sex as he tastes you properly.

A vicious cry slips free of your throat as he disobeys your earlier demands and his calloused hands wrap around your inner thighs, pulling your lips apart to allow him easier access to his apology. His skin is hot as hell, the leathered texture as delightful as ever as his mouth messily latches on to your skin - sucking, biting, licking, and teasing every possible inch of you until your words are broken and incomprehensible.

A sharp pain makes you cry out and you feel the full ache of a bite radiating from your inner thigh, the skin unbroken but no doubt soon to bruise due to the hard treatment. The dual sensation makes your head swim as the pressure of arousal builds in your cunt.

Discomfort and pleasure.

Ecstacy and pain.

Pure Cooper in his most concentrated form.

Nearing completion, you can't help the bucking of your hips as he struggles to hold you into place - your cunt grinding on his mouth and chin as you chase that high.

"Fuck, Cooper. Just so- so fucking good. Need to do this- FUCK- do this more. Put that mouth to good, ugh, use."

It's a babble and a mess. Words stuttering and pitching as his lips find your clit once more and his tongue flicks against the engorged nub, sending you careening over the edge of the abyss.

Hands scrambling against the wall as your orgasm hits, the hot pleasure cascades through your body in waves - tensing and relaxing your frame in sync as you press down on his face. Without much choice, he swallows everything, his busy tongue refusing to let up its devouring of your cunt as your thighs clench around his skull.

Earlier musings blown to the side, you take a moment to appreciate that his nose was missing as your frantic jerking across his face would have probably broken it in several places. You ride your orgasm out against him, allowing him time to breathe when he earns it as his face skilfully tilts to the side to pull in sharp intakes of air.

Eventually the tension in your legs dies out and your cunt grows too overstimulated to be fully enjoyable and you push your hands off the wall, forcing your cum-soaked thighs to slip along his chest once more as you collapse to the side of him.

His face is a sight. The raw-looking skin glistened in the low light as his mouth and chin remain covered by your mess. His eyes were bright, piercing through your relaxed features as you wrap your leg around his own - marvelling at the temperature difference.

"Not bad, old timer."

Blissed out by his efforts, your attitude was much more amicable and to show your forgiveness, you lazily grip at his cock; the length rock hard and visible leaking pre-cum due to his own untouched arousal.

Deciding that maybe he did deserve a treat as he wiped off his mouth with the back of his scarred hand - bringing the collected mess to his mouth for a final taste - you run the pad of your thumb across the flared head of his livid cock in a playful tease.

"Let's see if we can do something about this little problem here."

"Little?"

Cooper's voice came roughly, his own aggression mellowed out by how visibly pleased you were with his efforts.

Still, he couldn't resist the bait.

"Not that little, I gotta say." You reply. "In fact, maybe I should return the favour and-"

Trailing off, you wetten your lips with your tongue and make a lurid sucking noise, something obscene and nasty, as your thighs press together gently.

It's not really that much of a surprise when his hand moves like lightning, snaring around your neck and pushing your head towards his cock while a faint yet familiar smirk sits on the corners of his lips.

It was your turn after all.

#amazon fallout #fallout #fallout 2024 #cooper howard #the ghoul #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x you #fallout smut #ghoul smut #cooper howard smut #walton goggins #fallout tv #fallout prime

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yan-lorkai · 3 months ago

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Hi!! I loved your hcs of the Octotrio with a yuu that seems to only have a talent in art. I related to it a lot because sometimes I feel like I’m not good at anything else other than drawing.

I was wondering if you could do the same prompt with Riddle, Ace, Deuce, Cater, Leona, Malleus & the Scarabia boys please? If that’s too many you can just do Leona, Malleus, & Scarabia. Thank you 😊

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: I guess everyone has one of those episodes, huh? I've been writing for more than 8 years now and sometimes I get hit by the "aa but I'm only good at writing, I should totally try something" and then I try something new and hate it bcs I really love to write and nothing can compare lmao. Anyway, I hope you like this darling, I did all the characters requested too btw ~

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Ace would be playful and encouraging, but his competitive nature would lead him to manipulate situations to keep you close. He’d play little tricks to make sure you stay dependent on him, offering "helpful" critiques that subtly undermine your confidence in anything but your art. His lighthearted facade would hide a deeper need to be the center of your attention, he is your muse, the one you use to practice, the who inspires you, making sure that you see him as the only one who truly understands and supports you, all while ensuring you don't realize how he’s subtly sabotaging any other talents you might want to try to explore, for he fears you will not want to spend more time with him anymore if that was the case.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Cater would use his social media prowess to make you art the talk of the school, ensuring your work — and by extension, his support — is always in the spotlight. However, his validation would come with a price, as he subtly isolates you from others, creating an environment where you feel your art is only appreciated by him and his curated audience. Cater’s charming persona would hide his darker intentions, as he manipulates your into believing that your worth is tied to the art you create under his influence, all while keeping you emotionally dependent on his constant praise. You're already good at other things, so surely you don't need to have another hobby, right?

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Deuce, unlike Ace, would be fiercely protective of your artistic talent. He’d encourage your art with an almost desperate intensity, pushing you to try different brushes and pens, different scenarios and things, but he'd also pressure you to stay focused on what your good at, ensuring you don’t waste time on things you never tried before. His possessiveness would manifest in his need to be your protector, to the point where he'd become intimidating towards anyone who tries to steer you away from your art, that does not apply to yourself, while he think your drawings / paintings are very beautiful, he would not force you to make it more if you're having an episode where you doubt your skills and think you are good only on the art field. If you want to explore new things, Deuce will be by your side the entire time.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Riddle would be intensely supportive yet controlling, pushing you to perfect your craft while ensuring you don't stray too far from his strict rules, even more if you are already his lover. His obsession with your success would become borderline suffocating, as he constantly monitors your progress and enforces discipline to keep you on the right path, nurturing your already beautiful talent. To Riddle, your art is flawless, it's personal and have a touch of you in every drawing, be it digital or traditional. When you come to tell him about your doubts, about how you're only good at art, Riddle promptly sooth you with gentle words, albeit he is a little awkward while talking. He offer to teach you about whatever you want to learn but be prepared because he is somewhat a strict teacher.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Leona would admire your dedication to your art, and he would ask questions about it too, learning as much as your interest as possible. However, his possessiveness would be almost primal, keeping you close under the guise of protection, ensuring you don’t waste time on anything — or anyone — else. Leona would be dismissive of your attempts to explore other talents, reinforcing that your art is the only thing that matters. His control would be subtle yet overpowering, as he ensures your world revolves around him and your art, leaving you with little room for anything else.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Malleus would shower you with endless admiration, captivated by your artistic talent, even more if you were influenced by an artistic movement. He'll notice all the little details, the subtle way the traces converge, how the color scheme is perfect, the way the shadows and the light reflect. He is your number 1 fan, so supportive of you. However, his intense fascination would drag you into his lonely world, where your art becomes your only outlet and he is your audience - though he has your drawings framed and hung on the walls of the castles, so everyone can look at it and admire. Malleus may not understand your struggles and why would you want to pursue another hobby, but he can arrange anything you may want to try at least once, from singing and dancing to sewing and knitting, even the art of potion making, archery or fencing. He just know you're going to find something you like as much as your art, and if you are happy so is he.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Jamil would secretly nurture your talent, subtly guiding your creativity while undermining any attempts you make to excel elsewhere, he sees your art as something free and with many meanings - it makes him relaxed in some sort of way and Jamil wants to be a little greedy here, he wants you to continue creating more pieces, always keeping you under his watchful eye as you started drawing / painting. There's just something so intimate, so calming about it he can't wrap his head around. He loves watching you creating your art, feeling is guard lowering just a little. If you ever approach him with your doubts, Jamil take you to the kitchen so he can teach you a few things about cooking. It's a different kind of art but when all is said and done, it's just as good as when you're creating and make you feeling accomplished.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Kalim would be so overwhelmingly supportive and enthusiastic about it, showering you with gifts and opportunities to nurture your artistic talent, buying everything you may need to create your art, a new software? Sure, no problem, he brought the most expensive one too. A few new pencils and pens? Right away. You need more frames and paints? It will be here in a couple of hours. However, his naivety mixed with possessiveness would lead to unintentional control over your life, as he tries to keep you happy and close by his side. Kalim’s well-meaning gestures would create a gilded cage, where your art flourishes but your freedom is slowly stripped away. He would be oblivious to the suffocating effect of his love, believing that as long as you're happy creating art with him, nothing else matters, leaving you feeling trapped and not knowing how to communicate with him. He have done so much for you already!

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kaciidubs · 11 months ago

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hey kacii boo 💞 i have a request if that’s okay?

hear me out ☝️

a/b/o OT8 skz x omega reader and reader finds out she is pregnant? the boys start noticing her acting different and she accidentally leaves a pregnancy test on the counter, causing the boys to see. When she gets home, the boys sit her down and talk to her about it ending in group cuddles from the boys 🫶🏻

I'm in love with this, truly! ❣ Word Count: 1.9k [I did not mean to type that much] ❣ Warnings: A/B/O Poly! SKZ x Omega! Reader, pregnancy, angst if you squint, mention of birth control, fluff, comfort ❣ Additional Tags: Mentions of Chris being an alpha, Felix, Jisung and Hyunjin being omegas as the only specific pack roles, no clear mated pairings within the pack but it's sort of Chris x Reader centered toward the end

It would begin with the most intuitive of the pack members noticing your extremely slight deviation from your usual routines - Felix.

He was a fellow omega, like Jisung and Hyunjin, but he was the most aware of everyone's trends and habits; which meant it was immediately apparent to him that something was wrong when you start doing small things like wearing pajama pants around the house as opposed to your favorite, work out pajama shorts.

Eventually, the small things he noticed began to grow into big things that the rest of his pack mates would catch onto, such as the way you turned away your favorite snacks when Changbin offered them, or the way you couldn't seem to stand the smell of Seungmin's shampoo though you spent countless nights washing his hair with the same product before. There was even one night where you snapped at Jeongin when he tried cuddling up to you when you least expected it, then immediately started crying because you felt bad.

Since that night you'd resorted to staying in the "guest room", which was simply a spare room for anyone who needed their own space for some time - which was highly disliked by each of your pack mates, but they wouldn't take away your decision.

One day, when you were out running a few errands, Minho was the brave soul who would venture into your temporary room to do a bathroom sweep to clean and take out any trash. What he didn't expect, however, was the waft of an overly sweet scent overwhelming his senses the second he opened the door - nor was he expecting to stumble across a plastic pregnancy test on the counter.

When you walked through the front door, reusable bags in hand, you were met with eight pairs of eyes staring at you, freezing you in place as you stared back with worried confusion.

"Um... Hi?"

The mix of scents usually eased you, but with the thick layer of anticipation and worry threaded throughout, you weren't sure what to expect.

"Kitten, can you come sit with us for a minute?" Minho offered softly as Changbin was the first to stand, walking over to take the bags from your hands and bring them to the kitchen for the time being.

Left with no other choice, you walked into the living room and sat in the empty space between Felix and Hyunjin; Jisung sliding onto the floor to rest against your leg while Jeongin and Seungmin settled against the opposite, before Changbin filled the space behind Hyunjin while Minho remained next to Felix.

Easing into the comfortable, impromptu cuddle puddle, you figured the impending discussion was going to be simple until Chris stood before the group - directly in front of you.

"Love... You know you can tell us anything, right?"

You bristled at his cautious tone, though the feeling of Hyunjin's hand grazing against your own eased your guard. "I know I can - what's this about?"

"You've been acting different lately, and at first we just thought it was because of a period, or a new symptom of your heat coming up, but then you started avoiding food and smells, and isolating yourself from us." Chris tried his best to keep his tone level, to keep the authority that swelled within him at a tolerable value, but his unwavering gaze showed all of his emotions. "Then Minho found this-" reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out the same device that had thrown you into a panicked fit, so much so that you had to leave the house for a sudden errand run, "-and it all started to make sense. Why didn't you tell us you were pregnant, love?"

A pang of shame shot through your heart like an arrow, and judging by the disheartened whines from the boys immediately around you, they already felt the shift within you.

"We aren't upset, Jagi," Jisung pouted up at you as he nudged your thigh with his nose, round eyes filled with love.

Hyunjin nodded against your shoulder, bringing your hand up to press a soft kiss to the back, "We're just worried about you, muse."

A shivering breath rattled through you as you blinked back hot tears, looking up at the eldest, the head alpha among your unlikely pack.

"C-Chris, I- I don't-" You sniffled, cursing the tremble in your voice, "I wasn't trying to keep it a secret, I swear - I knew something was different but I didn't want to assume anything until I took the test last night and-" Biting back a sob, you felt a soft touch against your cheek - Minho's hand wiping away a stray tear. "I just... I didn't know how to say it so I went out to clear my head and figure out the words to say to you - to everyone because I- I'm not sure who got me pregnant! I didn't even skip my birth control, for fucks sake!"

This wasn't planned - despite a few discussions here and there about the potential idea of introducing pups in the future, none of you had done the true mating bond to solidify who would be the one to directly grow the pack with you, and the stress of it all had pushed you to isolation without you even realizing until you'd moved yourself to the guest room.

"Bunny, please take a breath for us." Changbin pleaded, leaning over so you could have a clear view of his comforting gaze, "You know none of us would be any type of hurt over who's pup you're carrying, not when it's the miracle of you being the one bearing them. It doesn't matter who did it, we'll figure that out when the time comes, all that matters is you being healthy and cared for - no more isolating."

"Bin's right," Chris piped up once more, drawing all attention to him with ease, "all we want to do is make sure you're okay - no matter how sudden this is, I don't think any of us weren't aware of something like this potentially happening. None of this is anyone's fault, none of ours and none of yours, you hear me?"

Nodding softly, you smiled at the subtle sensation of Seungmin squeezing your calf in a hug of sorts while Jeongin nuzzled against your thigh.

Minho cleared his throat softly, leaning forward to take your free hand within his, "I... I didn't mean to intrude on your privacy, Kitten - I would never look through your things without you knowing, and I'm sorry for not going to you first."

You squeezed his hand, looking at him with warm, glimmering eyes, "It's okay, Min, I know you meant well - I'm not mad at you at all. Honestly, it would've only been a matter of time until someone clocked it was pregnancy, anyways."

"You do have a new smell, Pup." Seungmin muttered from the floor, Jeongin nodding alongside him.

"Felix thought you were falling out of the pack - Chan had to talk him off the ledge," Jisung laughed, earning a few chuckles from Changbin and Hyunjin at the recollection of the memory.

The blond whined, lips pursed into a pout, "I was worried we did something wrong! I'm sorry I'm the only one who thinks of these things!"

Cooing, you nudged the side of your head against his, "It's okay, Lixie, there's no way I'd ever think of leaving any of you, you guys are my home."

He hummed softly, and you could feel the cuddle puddle slowly begin to set in but there was one final thing missing before you could truly feel at ease with the situation.

Untangling yourself from the tangle of bodies and arms, you made your way toward the eldest who was watching the scene with warm eyes and a soft smile - something he'd taken a liking to doing when he thought he wasn't being watched.

Without a moment to spare, you wrapped your arms around his middle, melting into the familiar mahogany and coconut scent as his arms wrapped around you in kind, securing you in a natural protective hold.

"I'm sorry for worrying you, Channie." You murmured into his chest before leaning back to look at him, "And I'm sorry for not saying anything when I first felt off, I genuinely didn't think it could've been this."

"You don't have to apologize, baby, you were only doing what you felt was right at the time." Pausing for a moment, he studied your face slowly, "I know this whole conversation was a lot to throw at you so soon, but I just want to make sure... Are you okay with this? Do you want to have a baby right now?"

You nodded before he could even fully finish his second question, "I'm sure - I know I was scared on how to say it, but I never felt scared about not being able to take care of this baby, not when I have the world's most amazing pack to raise it in."

It was the truth, there wasn't a single doubt within you that made you believe that having a pup would be difficult in the pack - it was a possibility, a thought that had been floated around enough to start considering the full mating process, and now was the time to turn that thought into a processing reality.

A deep rumble vibrated through Chris's chest and he ducked his head in an attempt to hide away from the blush that had already consumed his ears, the sound making you melt against his body and draw the attention of the seven boys watching from their seats.

"Someone's happy to be a dad," Hyunjin teased with a grin, earning a scoff from Minho.

"Who says it's him?"

"I'm just saying it cause of his reaction! Technically we're all dads until she gets a scent tie, so why can't I place my bet now?"

Jisung groaned, "Placing bets on a baby is so inhumane... I bet it's Changbin's."

"What?! Why is my name in this now? What if it's Jeongin's?"

The youngest made a sound that could only be best described as confused shock as his head shot up to look at the man, "Listen, I'd be honored, but I can say for a fact it wasn't me! I'm too young to be a father!"

"That's not what you were saying when-"

Chris cleared his throat with a pointed look, "Okay, how about we not have this debate and go cuddle and think about dinner, yeah?"

With that, the mini crowd dispersed in a jumble of comments, heading down the hall toward his room since - in an ironic retrospect - that's where the biggest bed was put.

As the living room grew quieter, he looked at you with warm eyes, "I have a feeling it's mine."

You laughed in shock, hitting his chest lightly, "What happened to 'let's not have this debate', Mr. Bang?"

"It's not a debate! It's just a... speculation, a theory, if you will." He murmured softly, leaning down to press his lips to yours in a quick kiss. "Now come on, the last time that combination went into my room, they turned my bed into a wrestling ring and I just found a replacement for my lamp online."

Letting him lead you down the hall, a soft smile settled onto your lips as your free hand came to subconsciously rest over your stomach - the pride of the new life growing within you and the one changing before your eyes filling you with a new sense of optimism and anticipation.

[unedited]

#✧. ┊ kacii answers #✧. ┊ lovely ihrtlix #stray kids x reader #ot8 x reader #Poly! SKZ x reader #Werewolf! AU #Werewolf! SKZ AU #bang chan x reader #lee minho x reader #seo changbin x reader #hwang hyunjin x reader #han jisung x reader #lee felix x reader #kim seungmin x reader #yang jeongin x reader

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thecapricunt1616 · 7 months ago

Text

Vervain - c.b. one-shot

𝓢𝓷𝓲𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓽 (𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓮 𝓑𝓣𝓒): “I want you to fuck another baby in me.” You said and kissed him deeply, grinding against him and running your hands over his chest and abdomen, tugging at the tie of his sweatpants. He moaned in surprise and grabbed your bum, squeezing and spanking you lightly before pulling away after a few more moments of you essentially eating eachother alive to breathe.

♡ O/S Inspo: Vervain - Use in Protection, purification, youth, peace, healing, sleep and baths. For all-purpose protection of homes and people (especially children).

♡ Summary: You & Carmy had your first baby 8 weeks ago... seeing him being so attentive and such a good father is for some reason inducing a baby fever - again.

♡ W/C: 4.6K+

♡ Posted Date: 05/09/2024

♡ A/N: OOOO hey yallllll! Capri is back - She was written by the writing bug this morning!!! I have other requests i'm still working on but for now - I am swallowing my stage fright, I hope this suffices for what you were wanting future Mrs.Berzatto eek!!! Thank you so much for requesting from me! You can see the request this one-shot is based on right ♡ here ♡ if you aren't following @carmenberzattosgf already I'm quite unsure how you found ME before you found HER go give her a freaking follow!!!I am seriously such a fangirl for her work and was over the moon when she requested me!

♡ Warnings for BTC: Pregnancy stuff, breeding kinks, talking about parenting stuff, Dad!Carmy, unedited (we die like men), NO USE OF Y/N!, AFAB/Feminine reader w/ long hair implied

➵ 𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 ♡

➵ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 / 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘵 ♡

It had been exactly 8 weeks today from when you’d given birth to your baby girl, Athena. Of course, you weren’t thinking about this yet - because you were peacefully sleeping away in bed, at 8:45 am. Each day you woke though, you were surprised your life wasn’t a dream.

Being married to your ultimate dream man, with the most beautiful little baby and not a rush in the world. Carmy had known when you got pregnant he’d be taking some time off after you gave birth to care for you, especially since you’d been trying for a baby so he was more prepared to have everything set up. He made your life almost impossibly easy.

Impossibly meaning it was nearly…isolating how simple your problems were compared to other moms. Since Carmy was like - the fucking golden standard of dad. You weren’t sure where he learned all this shit- especially since his father was never around and you knew for a fact didn’t treat his mother like this. You honestly felt bad complaining about anything to other moms - because in comparison when you did they were needing to do way more then you, and alone - because their husbands simply didn't care, or weren't interested in learning.

He had completely taken over the nighttime feedings, every 2 hours an alarm buzzing him awake on his watch. He would go ease little Athena awake, come back to the bedroom, gently wake you, set a boppy in your lap, help you undo your maternity bra and get her latched, and rub your back through the cramping that breastfeeding brought, whispering sweet encouragements and kissing your temple.

After she was done eating, he would help you get situated again, bottle up the letdown milk and put it in the mini fridge he’d gotten for your bedroom for this specific purpose before bringing your daughter back to her nursery and burping her, before changing her and putting her back down - just do do it all again an hour and 15 minutes later.

He took over the cleaning completely - your house was spotless nearly at all times, and of course you were very well fed. He would combat the exhaustion fatherhood brought by passing out next to you in bed after he brought you breakfast on a cute little tray and Athena had her morning feeding before being put down for a nap, baby monitor on his chest so he could jump up the second she fussed.

“G’morning mama” was what woke you this morning, that and gentle kisses on your forehead. You heard quiet little coos and immediately your eyes were open on instinct, to see little Athena nuzzled up in Carmys arm like a little football and a tray of amazing smelling breakfast in your face.

“I want my baby” you open your arms and he gently placed her on your chest to which she grunts happily and squirms her little legs, doing everything she can to lift up her head to see you.

“She’s such a good girl mama she helped me make breakfast f’you this mornin’ she’s the best little sous ever” he cooed, looking at her beaming with happiness as he rubs her little back.

This was what got you. You weren’t sure if it was the hormones, if it was the fact your husband looked like a fucking Greek god incarnate, or if it was just - you don’t know…human fucking nature?! Literally? But the insane level of need that you had for him - you wanted another one.

Athena wasn’t even rolling on her side yet and you were already craving being pregnant. Well- Carmy did love your body while you were pregnant. You loved your body while pregnant, you felt sexier and more feminine and pretty and overall like a goddess. Mostly thanks to Carmy and his constant praises, and the way you two were fucking like rabbits during your pregnancy and you missed that.

“What’s f’breakfast daddy?” You pucker your lips to which he obliges and gives you a sweet peck

“So this mornin, Miss Athena she decided on an omelette so we have a French omelette with dill-“ he explained and you inturrupt with a giggle

“Did you? You came up with that all on your own Athena? Such a smart girl!” You joked, kissing the top of her soft head to which she just huffed a breath to your skin and made little baby grunting noises as she wiggled her legs

“She did! Then we also have a light cucumber salad f’you with fresh herbs ‘f’course, sourdough toast, and a banana smoothie. All made with love” he kissed the top of your head.

Each morning after her first feeding, he would take Athena into the kitchen with him, baby wear her because he is just that perfect, and explain every little detail to her softly while he would cook breakfast, giving her head gentle kisses along the way and rubbing her back soothingly. He did the same while cooking lunch, and dinner. The first time you saw this you burst into tears at the sweetness and the beauty of creating your own family.

“Wow sweetheart thank you! This looks sooo yummy” you kissed the now drowsy baby’s nose and she smiled softly, causing you to smile and Carmy to gasp happily.

“Look at that little smile ‘eh? Such a pretty girl” he rubbed her back gently and you carefully picked her up and put her on his chest so you could eat, to which he happily laid back, palm flat over her little back patting her soothingly.

“Can’t wait to try this bear looks so yummy” you pull the tray in your lap and cut off a bite, trying it and nodding “course a ten.” You look at him and he huffs a laugh as to not wake the baby who was clearly ready for another nap

“Y’always say ten” he said softly and pressed his lips to Athena’s head gently, breathing in her baby smell. “Do you know what day it is?” He mumbles and looks over at you.

“I’ve been waiting for this day for….eight weeks” you smirk and he shook his head amusedly with a smile.

“Babe- you’ve been” he covers her tiny ears “you’ve been sucking me dry I didn’t even have a break. This is gettin’ exhausting” he joked and you laugh quietly as to not disturb the baby.

“Not my fault you’re like- don’t get me started I need to eat and shower and shave and - today is a big day.” You said and sipped your smoothie, humming happily “this is really good seriously bear” you told him and he rubbed your hand gently before pressing it to his lips

“Alright well that means I better get a move on then and there’s laundry t’do so I better go put ‘er down, you eat. Watch y’show ’er whatever and you can do your shower mm?” He asked and you nodded happily.

Of course he’d oblige your every wish. He had always been this way, but became even more lenient after you’d gotten pregnant. You made sure many times through tearful guilt that he wasn’t making himself resent you, and he assured you that everything he does he wants to do and only does because of the fact that he wants to, he also assured you he could never resent you or even dislike you, or anything less then be fully in love with you.

You had a luxurious shower, slathered on your favorite lotion and were even able to blow out your hair, putting on your favorite pair of lacy panties. You were upset you had to settle for a nursing bra, but knew Carmy wasn’t going to mind. You put on one of your comfortable slips, even put in some earrings after doing your skincare. By the time you were done Carmy was just getting Athena up from her nap and changing her diaper before bringing her in

“Say hi mama” he takes her little hand waving it at you “did you have a nice shower?” He pecked your lips sweetly and helped you get settled with her on the bed so she could eat.

“Very nice - thank you for taking care of everything sweetheart” you sit back, sighing softly and resting your head back “I love you” you look over at him with a sweet smile.

“I love you beautiful, how y’feelin any cramps?” He asked and held your hand, lacing your fingers together sweetly and kissing your fingers.

“No- well…not as bad anymore If anything when she’s not as hungry my boobs start to hurt” you explained and he nods

“Well y’look beautiful baby, I love these on you” he gently touches your earring bringing a smile to your lips, he always notices the smallest things about you. Like he has you memorized.

“Thank you Bear” you said softly as the baby makes little gulping suckling noises. Carmy chuckled, rubbing her belly lightly.

“That’s the good stuff huh little? Mama’s got the golden tap” he jokes and you laughed, holding her securely

“Stop! Stop making me laugh she’s comfy latched like this you’ll piss her off” you nudge him with your foot gently

“It’s true! You were the one that forced me to try it. It’s sweet, I see why she likes it.” He said and you scrunch your nose, biting back giggles

“Yes because it encourages her to eat it.” You gently brush that spot over her nose bridge and forehead, causing her eyes to flutter shut “that’s why when she’s 6 months we can’t let her have fruit for a while cause she’ll think everything’s sweet like my milk” you explained

“Mmm…read that too in one of the books you got- it’s a good call” he thumbs over her fingers gently that were wrapped around his forefinger tightly like a baby monkey.

“You should sleep” you told him softly. “You can have snuggles with her I’ll watch you”

He smiled and leaned in, kissing you lovingly “thank you sweets. I can burp her s’okay. I already got the towel” he said and grabbed it from his nightstand.

She only took a few more minutes before she slowly stopped suckling and instead went to fall right asleep but before she could you took her off and handed her over to Carmy for burping to which she fussed before she realized her dad was taking her then she relaxed again.

After Carmy fell asleep, you went to put her down for a nap as well and put away the laundry Carmy had washed. It was about 3 hours before Athena began to fuss again and you went to get her, sitting in her rocking chair after you’d changed her and reading her a book as she ate.

Carmy came in just as you were finishing up The Very Hungry Caterpillar “that’s a good one huh princess?” He said softly, gently caressing her cheek with his knuckle to which she fluttered her eyes open and smiled slightly before closing them again.

“Mmhmm, that one always puts her to sleep, she stopped eating 3 pages ago but I like to let her have a little time” you said and gently pulled her off to which of course she fussed. Carmy took her, hushing her sweetly and putting her on his shoulder.

“Y’mommy spoils you little girl” he told her, gently bouncing her as he burped her, putting a cloth on his shoulder and kissing her head. You smile slightly as you fixed your bra and nightgown

“I’d say we both spoil her. The doctor says she’s the happiest baby she’s met” you fixed her little sock that she’d managed to wriggle down to her toes before kissing her foot

“And the smartest and the prettiest and the most perfect “ he told her sweetly patting her back as she let out a big burp “good girl” he said and you giggled

“That was a good one” you told her and kiss her head gently, seeing him like this with her, especially mixed with a sleep thick voice, no shirt, and messy curls - not to mention the stubble from not bothering to shave as often. He looked…delicious

“Mmm- such a sexy daddy too” you mused, kissing his neck gently and rubbing your palm over his abs that had gone a bit softer due to spending way less time in the gym, but you loved it.

“Yeah? Even with throw up on my shoulder mm?” He joked, and usually that would be gross - but fuck. The way he stepped up as a father constantly - everything he did was with the two of you in mind and you never even had to ask. He’d quit smoking for god sakes without you saying a word once he’d found out you were pregnant.

“Especially. You’re so fucking amazing Carmy. Let me go to the bedroom so you can put her down but we need to talk” you told him and kissed his lips lovingly before heading back to the bedroom so he could work his magic getting her to sleep.

It only took him 20 minutes before she was out and he came to the bedroom, carefully shutting the door behind him. “Needa talk mm? Got a feelin’ we won’t be doin much talkin’ “ he teased, throwing her spit up towel in the hamper easily and coming to lay down with you. As soon as his head hit the pillow you were straddling his lap, your hands on either of his shoulders like a hungry lioness in heat.

“I want you to fuck another baby in me.” You said and kissed him deeply, grinding against him and running your hands over his chest and abdomen, tugging at the tie of his sweatpants. He moaned in surprise and grabbed your bum, squeezing and spanking you lightly before pulling away after a few more moments of you essentially eating eachother alive to breathe.

“Holy fucking shit” he said, chest rising and falling quickly “what got into you- im not complaining but-“

“Get me pregnant. I love it- I love it Carmy. God I feel so fucking hot. And seeing you with our daughter being all attentive and good to her? Holy fuck baby. Mm when people look at me - when they look at us I love it. I love knowing that people know you knocked me up.” You said, kissing his neck and sucking a hickey into the stubbly skin there. He moaned softly, palming your ass and squeezing your upper thighs

“No baby not yet - not yet mm? Y’need time to heal…we can pretend mm?” He counters and gently brushed your hair back. You whine and pout, pulling back and looking at him

“No. I want it now get me pregnant now.” You beg and hold his hands “pleeease I’m all healed remember? It’s 8 weeks.” You said and kissed over his tattoos, hoping you were distracting enough to get him to agree.

“Mm yup you can have me inside you again, but doctor said having another baby so fast would cause them to have low birth weight. We don’t want that for our babe no? Also y’breastfeeding babe. The chances of you getting pregnant are super low” he said and you huff, sitting up frustratedly

“You really know how to turn a girl off, you know that right? Can’t you pretend to satisfy your wife? Don’t you think I know?! Do you think I’m stupid?” You snip and he raised his brows

“Y’gettin sassy w’me?” He questioned lowly and squeezed your hips “fix the attitude” he ordered and you bit back a smile.

“No.” You crossed your arms “I don’t have one” you snip “you’re being mean t’me. Y’being mean to your wife” you teased, shoving his shoulder into the pillow playfully.

“Ohh” he chuckled a bit “did you just push me?” He mused, grabbing your wrist firmly but not enough to hurt, just enough to show you he was willing to play.

“What would you do about it if I said yes?” You leaned in so close your noses were touching.

“You’d be in trouble” he smirked, leaning in and tugging your bottom lip between his teeth and sucking and nibbling it gently the way drove you wild. You moaned softly, your eyes fluttering shut. The feeling went straight to your core, warmth flooding your abdomen and your clit twitching with excitement.

“Please” you said softly, well as much as you could mumble with one lip the other still being assaulted by Carm who was very much enjoying the way you were squirming in his lap to get any kind of friction you could.

He finally releases you “please what angel?” He spanks you lightly “what d’y’need mm?” He lifted your nightgown over your ass and squeezed the flesh, reaching under you and cupping your heat. He hummed at the feeling of dampness already soaking the lace, collecting as much as he could on his fingers.

“I need you t’fill me up again. Fuckin breed me make me a mommy again mm?” You begged, grinding against his hand - not even caring about the whorish filthy moans falling from your lips. You’d been fantasizing about this for weeks now, the relief of his hand- his wonderful calloused, thick, muscular hand, felt like it was enough to send you into a full orgasm just from the pressure his fingers were giving.

“Holy fuck y’soaked babe- my god” he groaned, pulling your panties to the side and gently rubbing circles into your swollen throbbing clit that was already twitching. Your hips buck and you bit down on your hand to hold in a cry as to not wake the baby. The next 3 or so minutes you couldn’t even remember what you said as he rubbed firm quick circles over your clit and after not having been touched for nearly 3 months - you were cumming on his hand mumbling his name, and profanities that would likely be considered sacrilegious while whimpering and squirming, thighs shivering - the whole 9.

“Wow” he muttered, and if your orgasm wasn’t so intense you would probably have laughed at how amazed he sounded. “Y’good?” He rubs your stomach gently and you nod quickly, trying to even your breathing.

“Fuck-“ you said once you came down “I literally blacked out for a second I think-“ you laughed and he followed suit, carefully laying you down after tucking 2 pillows under your hips to keep you elevated and tugging your panties off.

“Shit babe y’get all soft on me?” He teased, carefully wrapping your thighs around his waist and pushing down his boxers and sweats just enough to let his cock free. You loved this. It all felt so normal, you were worried it would be awkward getting in bed again, but you two were picking up right where you left off.

“I think you’re underestimating how sensitive hormones make you” you said as he kissed over your stomach and hips, licking a stripe up your heat causing you to gasp and grip the sheets tightly , your core clenching around nothing. Each touch felt like the power of a lightning strike, it was so much better than before. It had to be the hormones, but shit - now that you knew how good this felt you were worried you could never get enough of him.

“I guess I was. Also y’super sweet now by the way - sweeter then before I should say” he spread you wider with his fingers to lap up more of your arousal and you look down at him, moaning at the sight.

“God I fuckin missed you between my thighs - you’re so pretty” you smile, watching as he strokes himself as he continues to pleasure you first per usual. “Can you- try inside?” You asked gently and he looked up at you, resting his cheek on your thigh.

“You’re ready for that?” He asked softly, his lips and chin glistening with slick.

“Yeah- uh…try one? Maybe just one at first” you said sheepishly and he nodded, licking his lips

“Course sweetheart, tell me if s’too much yeah?” He assured and rubbed over you gently before easing a finger over your entrance.

The feeling was…well.

It was similar to the uncomfort of your first time, which - if that was the case then it would just take a few times to feel good again. “How’s it feel?” He gently sucks your clit as he eases to the second knuckle, curling gently

“Mm- okay? Not like it used to. But kinda like it used to…maybe it’ll feel better the more we do it” you assure and he nods a bit, flicking his tongue over your sensitive bud in the way that always got you to open up to him and you gasped lightly, back arching and core going lax. He slipped the final knuckle in and placed a kiss to your mound before slowly pumping as to not overstimulate you.

“Yeah- mmm yeah” you breathe as it started to feel more familiar, the muscles loosening once again and relaxing. “Another- you can try another.” You told him and gently lace your fingers in his hair. He carefully eased in his forefinger, curling them against your g-spot and your thigh twitches, you nearly sobbed at the feeling that shot through your body at the contact.

“Oh- okay found it-” he chuckled a bit “sorry did it hurt?” He asked and you shook your head quickly

“Again” you said softly, trying to remain all of your control because you knew as soon as you lost it finding it would be nearly impossible and you two had a sleeping tiny human 1 room over.

“Y’feel a lot tighter” he said, pumping his fingers slower, curling them against that fantastic spongey spot each time and you felt that coil in your belly tightening rapidly and it was going to snap now, any moment. “Y’like gushing right now” he chuckled, but it fell on deaf ears because your mind was fuzzy with pleasure.

You couldn’t form a thought even if you tried, the mixture of his tongue sloppily drooling all over your clit as he padded over it, and the jolt of pleasure each curl of his fingers - it was a place long forgotten since your baby had been born since your priorities had both been changed and refocused for the time being. You weren’t able to warn him, you couldn’t do anything other then mutter his name as your orgasm washed over you so hard he had to hold your legs open so you didn’t crush him by mistake.

“Fuck me- fuck me baby please Jesus- fuck me” you found yourself begging as you fluttered your eyes open and he was looking up at you in amazement like an owl, mouth slightly agape.

“Holy shit” he muttered “you’ve never cum like that- what the fuck- I thought I almost killed you” he kissed your thigh and you laugh, a real laugh, chest rising and falling quickly as the aftershock of your orgasm reels back mixed with your giggles.

“Please. Please” you cup his cheeks “cum inside me” you beg. He trailed kisses up your body, meeting your lips and pulling you into a hot, messy kiss. Mixed with clashing teeth and mixing of spit and sucking of tongues, before lining himself up and carefully pushing his tip in. You whimpered into his mouth and he pulled his lips away from yours, a small string of saliva connecting you both

“Did I hurt you?” He asked worriedly and you shook your head

“Feels so good bear. Keep goin’ fuck I f’got how full I can feel” you pulled your lips back to his and felt him smile into your lips, holding your hand and lacing your fingers as his other hand worked on rubbing circles into your clit. He kept you quiet by making out with you as he thrusted in fully, staying still for a moment so you could adjust to the sensation once more.

He grunts, feeling your walls flutter around him and you giggle in response, causing him to moan at the feeling of your walls squeezing around him “shit don’t do that I’ll fuckin cum”

“Then move dummy!” You push your heels into his ass and he chuckled, thrusting slowly in and out, nearly to the tip, before thrusting all the way back in to the hilt- his balls touching the curve of your ass

“ are y’fuckin kickin me like a horse?” He teased as your back arched off the bed, a whiny moan tearing from your throat and he covers your mouth quickly, “here y’are beggin me t’fuck a second one int’you- y’haven’t even learned how t’be quiet for the first. The baby is sleeping.” He grumbled, and the way he was getting rough with you to protect your baby was enough to throw you into your third orgasm, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes from the overstimulation of your clit, whining and squirming beneath his grasp.

“Y’gonna be quiet? Er do I have to keep you muzzled ‘mm?” He teased, removing his hand from your mouth

“Promise- I promise- please please please Carmy - give me another one I promise I’ll be so quiet” you said softly, your voice pleading and begging. He moaned, thrusting a bit harder

“Can y’take it? Mm? Are y’sure Y’can take me again princess? Last time I knocked you up it took quite a few months a’you face down, ass up, full a’my cum. Nights at a time. Y’don’t remember how you’d whine about how sore you’d get while you were ovulating? Mmm? Fuck you so full y’get sore- fuckin y’four er five times a’day?” he grabs your face, forcing you to look at him with mushed cheeks.

You whine pathetically, mumbling little ‘yes’ ‘mmhmm’ and ‘please’ you manage to get out an “I miss that so much Carmy” you whimper as he cages you in with his arms, his chain dangling in your face and brushing against your chin as his thrusts get sloppier.

“Yeah? You miss bein full a’my cum? Y’miss wakin’ up in the mornin’ drippin’ w’me honey?” He mutters into your neck, feeling droplets of your sweat mixing together as your bodies rubbed with his incredibly deep thrusts, nearly laying over you. But Carmy was the most comfortable blanket you could ever ask for.

“So much- so so much baby. Y’know Athena would be such a good sister- she needs a little friend mm? Y’gonna give your girl what she wants?” You scratch down his back as he pounds right into your g-spot, “oh I’m gonna cum” you whined, back arching and chest pressing flush to his.

“Fuck - fuck- yes. Yes baby. Fuck m’gonna fuck you full I promise- fuck I’ll give you whatever you want baby I fuckin love you I love you” he moans into your neck, whimpering softly as he shoots hot thick ropes of cum deep inside you, fucking you through your fourth orgasm of the day, rubbing over your belly gently “gonna fuckin stretch this belly out again mm?” He growled hotly in your ear and you giggle, slapping his back playfully.

“You're so funny talking about wanting to wait” you said and he huffs a laugh into your neck.

“Yeah yeah. Legs up- Thena’s gonna be hungry soon so Y’can only prop up there f’r like half an hour” he said and helped you put the pillows against the headboard with your hips on them so you were at an angle and rest your legs up on it to let gravity do its thing. It wasn’t surprising to you, but he absolutely wasn’t opposed to another one so soon after a little convincing.

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