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harryspet · 4 years ago

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off to the races (2) s.rogers

[Warnings] dark!steve rogers x reader, stripper!reader, ddlg, daddy!steve, abduction/kidnapping, mafia boss steve, bondage, a hint of peter x reader, toxic/abusive relationship, hella angst, little editing

A/N: im mentally shutting down because of school but at least i have mob!steve :)

In which you don’t want to be Daddy’s secret anymore.

word count: 3.5k

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taglist: @cherienymphe @peterztinglez @lovelynerdytraveler @buckysbunny @hollandsdream @micki-smiles @buckybarnesplumwhore @arts-ismything @saharzek @lovemassivelybeautifulbouquet @what-is-your-wish @brattypeony @hermayone @buckysugar @mischiefmanaged011 @visintaes @disaster-rose @sexyxseabassx @marvelmaree

“Woah, dude, your room is awesome. Awe, you have all the good movies. I haven’t seen The Jungle Book in forever!”

“Peter, look!” You waved him over to the window, ignoring his astonishment for the paradise Steve had created for you. Peter stood there dumbly for a moment before walking over to the window beside your bed.

You heard the loud whirring of helicopter spinning blades echoing through the room even with the window closed. It was landing in the field behind the manor and you were questioning why Steve was making such a grand entrance today. You’d been stuck in this house for three weeks now and nothing this exciting had happened yet, “Who’s helicopter is that?” You looked back at Peter who’d crossed his arm nervously.

“Uhm … probably … maybe-” You scoffed, before looking back at the view. The helicopter was a sleek, black color and, as you narrowed, your eyes could make out some words written in gold.

“Stuh …. Stark …. Industries. Stark Industries,” You were calm as you took in the info before the realization hit you, “Stark Industries! Is Tony Stark here? Holy …. pancakes.”

Peter smiled, seemingly amused by your excitement, “Pancakes?”

“Steve doesn’t like it when I-” You stopped yourself from explaining, realizing there was a bigger situation at hand, “We have to go check things out. Get a closer look!”

“No way,” Peter shook his head, “I’m here to make sure you stay in this room.”

You rolled your eyes, “So Tony Stark must be here then, right?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny that,” Peter pressed his lips together like he was struggling to hold in all the secrets he knew.

“How the hell does Steve know Tony Stark? Stark is dirty too? I should’ve known … flipping rich people.”

“Flipping?”

You took a step toward him and despite the fact you were wearing a pair of fairy wings, he still seemed intimidated by you, “What do you want, huh? A raise?”

“Uhm … I don’t think you can do that … can you?”

“Of course I can. Steve is wrapped around my finger.”

Peter cocked an eyebrow, “But he’s Steve Rogers …”

“Look around this room for goodness sake! He does anything I want. If I tell him all about how you’re a great worker, how you’re a good friend to me, he’ll surely be appreciative. Might even give you a promotion and maybe you won't have to play babysitter anymore.”

He considers it just for a moment, “If he does anything you want then why are you locked in this house?”

“Fine, fine, so I don’t have complete control but I have some. I could be helpful to you in the future!”

“Y/N, if something went wrong he’d probably chop me up into little pieces and send them to my Aunt. Or he’d chop up my aunt and make me watch … depends on the kinda mood he’s in.”

You stared back at him, trying not to let the look on your face falter, “ … I’ll give you my movie collection?”

“I’m sorry but-”

“It’s my birthday soon?”

“I can’t,” Peter stated, sighing, “I’ve got pressure on me right now, and things have to go right tonight. It’s like a huge deal. I never get to go to stuff and the party is-” He stopped his rambling when he realized he’d said too much.

“Party?” Peter opened his mouth and closed it again. He turned away from you, eyes wide, and made his way to the door. Of course, you chased after him, placing yourself between him and the door, “What party?”

“Please move,” Peter begged, “I really can’t talk about it.”

“I won’t say anything, I promise!” You were the one begging now, “He doesn’t tell me anything at all. Can you imagine how I’m feeling? I’ll do everything you say, I won’t try anything, I just want to know what's going on …. please?”

“Steve can’t know,” You nodded eagerly and he finally gave in, probably because of your spectacular puppy dog eyes, “Tony Stark is having a party tonight, that’s where Steve’s going, and most of us are going to. A pretty important deal is happening.”

“Why doesn’t Steve want me to go?” You frowned a bit.

“I don’t think he wants anybody to know about you, to keep you safe, that kind of thing.”

“Right,” You nodded, “Even if I go crazy while he does that.”

Peter looked sympathetic, “I’m sorry.”

“I know this thing with me and Steve is not ordinary but is it crazy of me to not want to be a secret? Even after everything …”

You could tell Peter wasn’t expecting a deep question nor did he expect you’d confide in him, “I don’t think so,” Peter was trying to understand, you could see it in his eyes. He rubbed the back of his neck as if he wasn’t sure, “Obviously … you - uhm - care about him. I wouldn’t want to be the secret of someone I care about.”

He was taken aback when you suddenly hugged him. Unsure if he could hug you back, he awkwardly patted your shoulder which made you giggle, “Can I paint your nails?”

“What? No.”

“I have colors that aren’t girly.” “Hmm … can you do cool stuff like the shapes and sparkles?”

“Of course,” You smiled, “Step into my salon.”

“I didn’t get my sticker this week,” You bounced back from your toes to your heels, watching Steve as he got ready in his closet. He was fixing his tie in the mirror, making sure it was absolutely perfect, along with the rest of the look. Freshly trimmed beard and an aftershave that smells intoxicating. He smelt like money and looked like it too. That’s probably exactly how you would want to look in front of Tony Stark.

“You skipped dinner two days in a row, doll.”

You were frowning but it wasn’t like he was focused on you anyways, “But I did better after that,” You whined.

“I know, baby, you can try again next week.”

“Maybe if you were here then I wouldn’t have missed it,” You whispered, playing with your fingernails, “But I’m stuck here and you get to go out and have your fun.”

“Have my fun?” He questioned, buttoning up his jacket.

“You get home so late … I’m sure you go to your clubs, booze it up and talk to girls.”

He chuckled a bit, “You think I’m flirting with other women?”

“I don’t think, I know,” You leaned against the doorway, “You’re a guy, aren’t you? That’s what you do.”

He finally turned to you, and you felt your breath hitch in your throat. He was as handsome as ever, like a movie star, “Doll, my days are long because I’m traveling from here to the city every day. I want to fall asleep and wake up with you. There isn’t and never will be anyone who I’d rather do that with.”

As he came closer, you knew he was going to lift you into his arms. Ever since he took you from the club and you sobbed into his shoulders, you’d find solace in his arms. Even if his hands were causing your hurting, they still felt warm and loving, “You don’t mean that,” You whispered, muffled against his shoulder.

“What can I do to prove it to you?”

“Take me with you,” You said and you felt him stiffen.

“It’s not safe,” He tried to explain.

“Are you embarrassed by me?”

“No, no,” He rushed out, carrying you out of the closet and into the bedroom. “Why would you even ask that?”

“Because of what I do, what I used to do-”

“No, Y/N. I’ve never felt that way,” His tone was more concerned that it ever had been before, “Look at me, please?”

Begrudgingly, you lifted your head. You hated that you were feeling jealous or inadequate, “You took care of yourself all these years and I know you still can,” He continued, “Let me protect you now.”

“I’m not a baby.”

Steve could sense the small bit of pride still left in you and decided not to push you on it anymore, “Could’ve fooled me,” Steve smiled slightly, bouncing you in his arms, “Let me tuck you in, grumpy.”

“The sun just set!”

“It wasn’t actually a request,” He was already carrying you away.

“Wait, wait, wait,” You resisted, “Can I sleep in here? I’ll go to sleep right away, I promise.”Steve stopped, thinking it over for a moment, “I like that the … sheets smell like you, Daddy,” You added, knowing that was what he wanted to hear. It wasn’t fully a lie but you had other motives for not wanting to go back to your room. For one, your room locked from the outside and his didn’t. Besides that, you were almost sure that one of your stuffed bears had a camera inside its eye.

Steve tucked you into his california king-sized bed that night and watched you fall asleep until it was time for him to go. You felt the kiss he pressed to your forehead and, for a brief moment, you thought about changing your plans.

That feeling didn’t last long.

For such an expensive car, you thought your ride would be a lot smoother and much more comfortable. Turns out, hiding in any trunk, no matter how luxurious, behind big boxes of unknown items, was not a pleasant experience. An hour into the drive, you finally decided that you’d had enough and you needed to get the feeling back into your limbs. Besides that, you needed to check and make sure that your hair and makeup stayed in place.

When you climbed over the seat from the trunk to the backseat, the car instantly swerved before the driver corrected its path, “Y/N, holy shit!” Peter shouted, obviously frightened out of his mind but you were focused on making sure all the layers of your dress made it safely back into their places, “What the fuck? What the actual fuck?”

“Oh, calm down,” You said, looking at him through the rearview, “Just keep driving.”

“Are you out of your mind? If Steve sees you he’s going flip his shit!”

“Peter, you okay in there, kid?” You heard Bucky’s staticky voice over Peter’s radio. The younger man picked it up and answered, his eyes still focused on you.

You placed a finger over your lips and Peter gave you a death stare, “Yeah, I’m fine … I thought I saw a squirrel.”

A caravan of three cars surrounded Steve’s car as they all drove down this dark, winding road that you assumed would lead to Tony Stark’s mansion, “Did you not comprehend a single word I said?” Peter shouted, “Do you want me to get killed?”

“This is my problem,” You said, “Steve will know that you had nothing to do with it, I promise. But tonight is going to go super well so it won’t even matter. Steve is going to see me and realize he’s crazy not to show me off and then we’re going to go to the party and I’m going to charm everyone with my personality which is going to make him a ton of friends and even more money. Everyone wins.”

Peter was shaking his head the entire time as he listened to your rambling, “Y/N, I understand that you want to be more to Steve and you don’t want to be in the dark but this isn’t the way! This isn’t some charity event or some art gala, these are dangerous people.”

“But Tony Stark-”

“Is as dirty as it gets,” Your heart began to race a bit, “And Steve cannot just let everyone know his biggest weakness, even if they are his allies.”

His biggest weakness.

Suddenly, your mind was racing with thoughts of moments with Steve. Meeting him, going on your first dates, the hotel meetings, and the passionate kisses that always left you feeling like he felt more about you than he admitted. You never saw yourself as his weakness.

I want to fall asleep and wake up next to you.

When you snapped out of your trance, Peter had his walkie-talkie pressed to his chin, “Guys, uhm, we have a stowaway,” You slumped back in your seat, and when the car eventually came to a stop, you wished you were still tucked away in Steve’s bed. You think Peter was calling your name, probably apologizing and telling you how he had to follow orders but, honestly, you had tuned him out, “I-I don’t know …. I thought I checked everything …”

Your dress was adorable too, covered in pastels, while still remaining elegant. You imagined Steve's heart with flutter at the sight of you, instead, he was fuming. He was always so stoic, so full of composure, that the change frightened you. He grabbed you roughly by your upper arm, pulling you from the backseat, and slamming the door shut. Pressed against the car, you looked into those blue-green eyes that were anything except nice.

“I didn’t mean to for all this,” Was all you could muster up the courage to say, “I just wanted to come with you-”

He shushed you before you got your words out, “We’ll talk about it later.”

You wished he would just yell at you now. He could bend you over right now and you’d prefer that over his silence and the obvious disappointment in his tone, “Later? But-” He pulled you away from the car and you stumbled in your heels as he pulled you along the dark road.

He brought you towards the last car in the caravan and Sam stepped out from behind it, closing the trunk, before handing something shiny to Steve, “What are you doing?” You asked shakily, the cold wind of the night blowing your dress.

“Turn around, face the car,” He ordered you and you feared whatever punishment you were about to receive would be worse if you disobeyed him. Slowly, you turned around and he wasted no time grabbing your wrist. You heard the metal click of handcuffs as they tightened around your wrist. You felt his strong hands on your waist and, as he lifted your dress, you assumed the worst. Your panties slipped down and as Steve lowered himself with them.

“Steve, please talk to me?”

To your surprise, as you stepped out of your underwear, you felt the click of metal around your ankles. When he stood back up, he grabbed your arm again, pulling you back so you were pressed against his chest, “Daddy will deal with you later,” His breath against your ear sent shivers down your spine, “Don’t worry, doll … open your mouth.”

“If you just let me explain-”

You weren’t sure why you even wanted to. He left your brain scrambled and wondering why you even did the things that you did.

“I won’t ask you again.”

Your lips parted and you realized he was forcing your panties into your mouth. The next thing that you knew, you were lying in the back seat of that car, your wrist hogtied to your ankles. And you thought sitting in the trunk would be uncomfortable. You were struggling and calling out for him and, as you expected, you were ignored.

“Get her back as fast as you can. I’ll keep things short with Stark,” Were the last words you heard before the door shut close and all your screaming was muffled.

You weren’t sure at which point you’d fallen asleep. As you laid there tied up, you thought a lot about him since there was nothing else to think about. You weren’t sure how he could love you and be so cruel at the same time.

That next morning, you awoke to sore limbs and makeup staining your pillow. Even though the car ride back was hell, you knew your punishment wasn’t over. You debated even getting out of bed, knowing what was to come.

You finally mustered the energy to clean yourself up, washing your face, and brushing your teeth. When you stepped back into your room, you were taken aback by what was sitting in the middle of your room. A giant, life-size brown bear was happily perched before your bed, holding balloons and a Tiffany’s gift bag.

It was exactly the opposite of what you were expecting today. You approached it cautiously, decided to sit and open up the present. You handled the bag carefully, finding an elegant white card sitting inside.

For my favorite girl on her birthday.

Love, Daddy.

You sighed, knowing he probably picked all of this out before you betrayed him and probably ruined any sort of trust he had between you. You hadn’t even realized it was your birthday which was probably due to the fact that you had no phone or any contact with the outside world. There was also a jewelry box inside, a gorgeous, rose-gold tennis bracelet inside.

As you snapped it around your wrist, covering your bruises, you promised not to ask how much it cost. It would probably make you feel even worse about yesterday.

You finished getting dressed, deciding to head downstairs for breakfast. You found Steve sitting at a table out by the pool, reading through a newspaper like a grandpa. It seemed like he was expecting you because there were pancakes and eggs waiting on the table, “Morning,” You greeted awkwardly.

“Good morning, doll. Happy Birthday,” He responded, his eyes still focused on the newspaper.

“Thanks,” Taking a seat in front of him, you instantly moved to grab the syrup, but the rings on his finger caught your attention. Below, you could see his knuckles were red and purple, bruised like he’d been punching something … or someone. “Your hands …”

He folded his newspaper, taking a look at them himself. It didn’t seem to faze him as he folded them on his stomach, leaning back in his chair, “Your wrist,” He changed the subject and you wondered if he was amused by the fear in your eyes, “Do you like my gift?”

“Yeah, it’s beautiful, I love it … thank you,” Your mind was elsewhere, “What happened to your hands? Is that from last night?”

“Last night is a blur. I was so angry after your little stunt, I had to have a few drinks to even get through the rest of the night.”

“Really?” You tried to hold in your scoff, “You seem very chipper today.”

“Only because I get to see your beautiful face,” He countered, smirking.

Your eyes narrowed at him, “What did you do?”

“That’s a broad question-”

“Did you hurt him?”

“Him?” Steve raised an eyebrow, “You mean Peter? I thought about it … I’m still thinking about it actually. If he was smarter, yesterday would have never happened but you must’ve been pretty convincing. Poor kid, he probably thought you liked him.”

“None of it was his fault! I-I was just being stupid, I was using him and he was just trying to be a good guy. Steve, please.”

“If I did, you would probably start to actually listen. You’d never try one of those crazy stunts ever again-”

“I will listen! No more stunts, I’ll be an angel from now on,” You stood up from your chair, moving around the table, “I know you’re just trying to protect me. Peter tried to tell me that and I should’ve listened.” You grabbed a hold of his hand, squeezing it tightly.

“That’s all I want,” He added sincerely and you nodded.

“I’ll pinky promise,” With your other hand, you held out your pinky. You thought Peter would be your way out but, here you were, begging to stay in order to keep him alive. Your pinkies wrapped around each other and you climbed into his lap. You kissed the sides of his mouth before kissing his lips.

“Soon, we’ll take a trip together, I know you’re itching to get away.”

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” You kissed his lips again, “Your hands … what actually happened?”

“Punching bag,” He easily explained although you were expecting a tale of horror. Holding his hand, you brought his fist to your lips, kissing them gently, “That probably wouldn’t have happened a year ago … I think you make me more gentle.”

“That’s a lot of pressure, don’t you think? Turning a beast into a prince.”

“For some reason, I have faith in you.”

“Peter!” You perked up as soon as he entered the living room, not realizing how grateful to see that he was still in one piece. Sam, Bucky, and Steve seemed to exchange confused glances from their places on the couch.

Peter seemed baffled as well, “Am I in trouble or something?”

“No, we’re about to watch Coco. Wanna join?”

“There’s popcorn,” Sam added, stuffing his face.

“And cookies,” Bucky chimed in.

Peter smiled, unsure, as he looked to Steve for permission, “Join us, son.”

“Awesome,” Peter clapped, making his way over to the couch, “This one always makes me cry.”

“Y/N, I thought you said this one wasn’t sad,” Bucky eyed you. You shrugged, snuggling yourself further into Steve’s side. You tried to hide a mischievous smile and act like you weren’t hoping to see three grown men tear up from a Disney movie.

“Okay, press play,” You tapped Steve’s chest and he raised the remote.

“Wait,” Steve paused, “Are all three of your nails painted?”

i’m thinking maybe i’ll make a christmas themed part 3, we shall see :)

#dark fic #dark!steve #dark!steve rogers #Steve Rogers #mob!steve #mob!stucky x reader #steve rogers au #steve rogers smut #dark steve x reader #peter parker x reader #mafia!bucky #sam wilson #bucky barnes #peter parker #black!reader #steve rogers x black!reader #captain america x reader

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heyhihellowhatsup0 · 4 years ago

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Hooked On Your Feelings - Prologue (FWB! Tom x Reader)

Warnings: Some angst, language, eventual smut in future chapters, fluff

Word Count: 2570

Summary: After a bad breakup, making an agreement with your womanizing neighbor, Tom to be friends with added benefits and no strings attached seemed like the perfect idea. Until things become messy, emotions caused your agreement to crumble.

A/N: So I’m starting a new series! I always wanted to do this trope for Tom and I’m realllllly excited for this series! I’m not completely sure how long it will be as of right now, most likely between 8-10 chapters. So if you want to be added to the taglist, please DM me! I hope you all enjoy the prologue and can’t wait to hear your thoughts on it! (Also credit to @osterfield-holland-andcompany for this amazing ass mood board I made her too..I’m obsessed!) Thank you xx -N

“Get out!” you screamed as you shoved your now ex-boyfriend out the front door of your apartment. You knew the walls were thin but you didn’t care. You were so completely filled with rage and your body was vibrating as you flung his pants at him, “Get the hell out, Justin!” you shouted again.

Justin flinched as the door swung open and he stumbled out the front door, still in his boxers. The anger in your eyes made your pupils black while he grabbed his pants and rolled his eyes at you, “Will you just let me explain, Y/N?” he tried to speak but you cut him off with a dry and sarcastic laugh.

“No. The conversation is over,” you snapped at him, taking another deep breath to try and pull yourself together. You felt yourself fighting back the tears because you didn’t want him to see you cry. Not again, anyway.

Watching as Justin stumbled down the stairs, you stood at the top completely and utterly overcome with your anger you barely recognized your voice. But you knew you had every right to be mad. You couldn’t excuse his behavior and you were done defending him. You knew you deserved better than the shit he was putting you through. It was enough and now you were letting it all pour out as he was practically falling down the stairs.

You grabbed the shoe he had dropped on his way out the door and aimed it right towards his head, missing and making a loud thud against the wall behind him. You probably just woke up the entire floor but you didn’t care right now. Forming a fist, you refrained from punching the door as you finally lost it, “Don’t call me! Don’t even walk down the same street as me anymore, do you hear me? You conniving son of a bitch!” your voice bounced off the walls with an echo as you watched Justin exit your life through the elevator, still with his pants in his hand.

You couldn’t help yourself as you flipped off the closing doors while you let out the breath you were holding in. Your chin began to tremble as you tried to stop yourself immediately. He wasn’t worth it, you thought to yourself. You should be proud of getting rid of him. Especially after what he had done to you.

Just as you were heading back into your apartment before anyone realized you were the cause for the commotion, your neighbor’s door flew open and made you jump when you saw his familiar face meet yours from across the hall. You saw his smile as he noticed you and you knew what that meant, you just weren’t in the mood right now to assist in his little escapade.

“Y/N! Oh, I thought I heard your voice out here,” your neighbor from 3B made his way over to you with bare feet, brown curls a mess, with his grey sweatpants resting low on his hips as his bare chest was revealed to the entire floor, “Thank god! I need your help with this chick inside who is talking about meeting her family this weekend and I’ve known her for...three hours,” he cringed as he carefully tip-toed his way over towards you.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes because this was a regular thing for him, even if it wasn’t your business. But he was a friend of yours, in a neighborly way at least, so at some point you made it your business.

“No,” you scolded him as you shook your head. You tried to hold in your laugh at the desperate look on his face but you couldn’t help, “Not tonight, Tom. No! C’mon, seriously? No!” you warned as he began to give you puppy dog eyes to try and convince you otherwise.

Tom pressed his palms together and pressed them to his chest, praying for your assistance, “Please, Y/N! I owe you so much if you help me out and this is the last time, I swear,” he paused for a moment when he realized you were standing by your door this late at night and you looked as if you had gone through hell. His lips tightened as he suddenly grew concerned, “Wait, what are you doing out here right now?” he questioned.

You sighed as you pinched the bridge of your nose, “Um...I sorta caught Justin sleeping with his co-worker so I was just kicking him out, sorry,” you don’t know why you apologized for it but you knew you didn’t want Tom or anyone for that matter to see you when you were this visibly upset.

“He did what?! Fuck...Y/N, I’m so sorry,” Tom said as he offered you a hug, pulling you into his bare arms while he tried to make you feel a little bit better, “That guy was a fucking prick and I never really liked him anyway,” he told you, making you laugh through your tears while you pulled away with a small smile showing.

Running a hand through his curls to smooth them over, Tom squeezed your shoulder playfully, “If it makes you feel any better, I’m probably a bigger mess than you right now,” he told you as he cringed at what was waiting for him back in his apartment.

“No, you have a bigger mess than me,” you corrected with another eye roll. Quickly wiping your tears away you placed a hand on your hip while taking another breath towards Tom and his stupidity, “If I do this, you owe me big time,” you sighed.

Tom was a good guy but the decisions he sometimes made were, to say the least, questionable. You didn’t know too much about his personal life but just enough to come to the realization that he couldn’t commit to much of anything. He was always bringing random girls home, roommates came and went, and he had a tendency to flake on tenant meetings at the last minute.

There was no question that he wasn’t looking to settle down, you never once saw him with the same girl more than once and that was none of your business nor concern. Tom was a good neighbor to you. He watered your plants for you while you were out of town visiting your family, he kept his music down to an appropriate volume, he would even bring you pizza on occasion to eat together while you gossiped about the other tenants on your floor. And sometimes in return, he would ask for favors like bailing him out of sticky situations that you tried not to judge too harshly.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Tom gave you another hug with a kiss against your cheek, “I will owe you for fucking life, Y/N,” he thanked you as he waited for you to head into his apartment to do what he clearly was too afraid to do himself. Letting girls off bluntly was something he was never good at. Then again, that was a whole other issue he didn’t want to think about.

Tom followed you into his place as you glared at him when you saw all of the clothes strewn across the living room floor. Making a face at the boxers on the ground you shuddered at the thought of what the hell went down in this apartment as you watched Tom nod towards his bedroom signaling that she was in there.

Nodding your head you rolled your eyes before you got yourself into your character. Seconds later, you whipped around and channeled your anger towards Tom as you slammed his door shut, “Save it, Tom! I won’t hear it! I come home after taking a double shift for us and this is what I come home to?!”

Tom gave you a thumbs up that you were doing a good job as you slammed your fist against the nearby counter, “I just spent fourteen hours stripping to pay your way through law school so we could afford a better place to live and this is the thanks that I get? You fucking some random girl?!” you shouted while you shook your head towards Tom with a shrug.

“Woah, nice touch. I love the story line this time,” Tom whispered with an approving smile as he pointed towards the bedroom door, signaling for you to go and get rid of her.

You stormed into the bedroom, already seeing the girl scurrying to find her shoes, “Oh god! Please, I’m so sorry,” she pleaded as her red hair swung back and forth while she adjusted her sequin cocktail dress. Limping through the threshold of the door she couldn’t even look at you or Tom as her face grew red, “I had no idea that he-”

“That he what? Was married? Was cheating on his wife of seven years? You still want this son of a bitch?” you asked the girl who shook her head ‘no’ nervously, “The both of you need to leave! Get out!” you pointed towards the door as you focused on Tom.

Tom apologized to the girl as she practically ran out the door before he turned to you, “Darling, please let me explain! Think of the children!” he begged you as he still noticed the girl was in earshot.

“I want a divorce and I’m taking both the kids! You won’t have two pennies to rub together by the time I’m done, Thomas! Do you hear me? I can’t believe you would-”

“She’s gone,” Tom cheered silently as his door finally closed with a sigh of relief. He rushed to the fridge to grab two beers as he made his way over to you, “Both the kids? Really?” he teased while he clinked his bottle up against yours.

Giving him a shrug, you brought the beer to your lips as you collapsed onto his couch, “Well if you kept your dick in your pants for once maybe you wouldn’t have to ask your neighbor to make up such elaborate lies on the fly to kick girls out of your apartment,” you teased right back as Tom took a seat right next to you with a pout on his face, “Am I wrong?” you questioned him with a giggle.

“Well, technically, no. But then, where’s the fun in that?” he laughed as he took another sip. Trying to figure out why he even did half of the shit he did anymore. He knew there wasn’t any fun in any of it. Not anymore, anyway. It made no sense, especially if he wasn’t getting anything out of these situations except drama. And he hated the drama of it all.

You made a face at Tom, “I guess no more fun than watching the guy you were in love with make out with his co-worker,” you stare at the bottom of your bottle, letting the alcohol swirl around your brain as you tried to push away those thoughts. You didn’t want to think about Justin again. It was still fresh but you weren’t ready to move on just yet.

“Guess we both should be alone for a while, huh?” Tom stated as he slumped further into the couch. Downing his beer as he set it aside on the table. This feeling was beginning to come more often than not with Tom after he dismissed one of his...conquests. He didn’t like it anymore because it was suddenly beginning to make him feel like this but he kept doing it anyway in hopes it would go away. But so far it only got worse as the nights rolled in and you came by to kick out more of them. He was lucky you were here because he didn’t feel like being alone right now.

The room fell still as the two of you remained on the couch in silence for a bit. Trying to blur out the events that had taken place earlier with Justin, you finished your drink and placed it beside Tom’s. You knew you wanted something serious and Justin was not that, even though you knew he was going to be trouble from the get go. You knew perfectly well what you needed but maybe you just needed some time for you right now and not to jump in to things that were going to be messy. You wanted numbness but at the same time you wanted to feel something that you hadn’t yet.

Turning your head to face Tom, your eyes met his in the dimly lit living room. The muted TV gave off the only illumination while you both remained there in your tipsy states, trying to figure out where both of your nights had gone wrong.

“I really don’t want to be alone,” you finally broke the silence as you stared into his eyes before they flickered towards his bare chest, back to his eyes slowly.

Tom swallowed as he shook his head, “Me either,” he agreed in the same tone. He noticed you were looking at him and more importantly the way you were looking, but he found himself not minding at all as his eyebrows raised up a bit when your lips crashed into his.

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#tom holland #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland fic #tom holland smut #tom holland x y/n

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mercy-burning · 3 years ago

Text

Fake Fiancée - Part 3

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Reader and Spencer write letters back and forth, both of them slowly starting to fall in deeper. Category: Smut (18+) Content Warnings: Strong language, sexual themes, masturbation (male and female), sexting, face sitting Word Count: 6.3k

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

MASTERLIST

NOTE: Hello!! Sorry this has been so long in the making, but for a while my inspiration for this story absolutely disappeared, and then I tried to think of how to bridge the previous chapters to the final one with absolutely no luck. And then I re-read Part 2 and got stuck on the letter, thus this chapter was born! I didn’t want to drag this miniseries out any longer than 4 parts, and the letter format combined with other inner monologuing and description really allowed me to do that in an interesting way that hopefully doesn’t feel rushed!

It was so much fun and very refreshing to write. I hope you like how it turned out!

Thank you all for being so patient while I get my shit together 😅 Love you guys! Enjoy 🥰

***

We've been sending letters back and forth for about a month now.

If I'm being honest, it took me about two weeks to decide whether or not I actually wanted to send one back, but could you blame me?

Here was this guy I couldn't stop thinking about after a one-night stand, only for him to catch me—months later at the same exact bar we'd met in—flirting with his friend. And then after our sexual encounter that night, all the things we said, the connection I thought we had, all of it...

He left it all behind the next morning, only to send me a letter in the mail.

I was pissed.

Sure, it was a nice letter, but the fact that he'd reduced what we had down to a piece of paper and scribbled ink had made me angrier than I cared to admit.

In retrospect, I may have overreacted.

Over time I started re-reading his words, and the more I thought about it all, the more I started to regret my anger. And more than anything, I just wanted to see him again. I couldn't stay mad at him, not when all I could picture was his pouty face and nervous hands. His sunbeam of a smile peeked through the clouds of my anger here and there, and the longer it settled, the more it bathed me in a warm light that should have made me happy. But all it did was make me long for him.

Once I'd actually started writing that first letter back, I wondered why I hadn't jumped on the opportunity in the first place. I mean, after all the cliché shit we'd experienced in our short relationship thus far, adding love letters to the mix was just as perfect as you could get, right?

Spencer,

I'm sorry it's taken me this long to finally write you back. Truthfully I wasn't sure I wanted to write you at all, but your letter kept drawing me back in. I couldn't stop re-reading it, imagining you sitting down somewhere and contemplating every word as you wrote them down. I wondered if you'd thrown out hundreds of pieces of paper after messing up when you could have just as well typed out a letter without wasting them.

And then by that point, all I could think about was just you.

I always pictured what your living room looks like, or your kitchen table, or your office, or wherever you sit down to write. I wondered if you looked like one of those hopeless writers in the movies that have a scruffy face, coffee stains on their white tee shirts, and messy hair that hasn't been washed in days due to lack of inspiration.

But in the end, the image that won out over all the others was just you as I remember.

I'm not going to lie, that image most of the time was your body above mine while I held my hand to your throat, but for the sake of romance I guess I should probably tell you what it was every other time— the outfit you were wearing the first time we met.

When I think of you, I think of your hand nervously clutching that beer bottle for dear life and the other one occasionally pushing your glasses up your nose. I think of your eyes every time they'd look away from me, probably to keep yourself from staring too long.

But the thing that always gets me the most is your smile— even when it comes in little flashes, after you've said something you probably thought was lame. You covered it up with that perfect smile.

I've dreamt of that smile nearly every night since I met you, and I wouldn't be opposed to seeing it in person again.

I'd love to meet you for dinner some time.

But since you did manage to "more or less abandon me twice now", I think it's only fair that you make it up to me first.

Make the next letter a good one, and we'll see what happens.

Yours, Y/N

P.S. I hope my handwriting is as pretty as you hoped. I'd hate to disappoint.

***

Y/N,

I'm incredibly grateful that you've given me a chance to redeem myself. Every night since I last saw you has also been spent wondering what your house looks like on the inside... What you looked like reading my letter (perhaps at your kitchen table?)

And this might sound silly, but I've also wondered what your bedroom looks like. You may be laughing at me, because I've been in your bedroom, but in my defense I was a bit preoccupied to really take notice of my surroundings— I was simply surrounded by you.

But since I've been to your home, I figured it was only fair that I invite you to mine, possibly for dinner. I don't know how to cook much— in fact I'm pretty awful at making anything that's not a can of Spaghetti-Os... But one of my co-workers is an excellent chef, and with a recipe from him and some practice under my belt, I'm sure I can pull it off.

But by "some" practice, I mean probably weeks or months of practice. So hopefully that gives you ample time to mull it over.

Perhaps in the meantime we can get to know each other through our letters. And who's to say, it might spare us the awkward "getting to know each other" stage of a first date. Though, pretty much every stage of every date is awkward for me, so it might not help at all.

Regardless, I'm very much looking forward to hearing from you again.

I do get called away for work quite often, however. So I apologize in advance if I can't get back to you as soon as I'd like.

But in any instance, you're still welcome to text message or call me. I know it isn't as romantic or personal as handwritten letters, but it's certainly practical.

Yours, Spencer.

P.S. Your handwriting is just as beautiful as I'd imagined it would be. And you could never disappoint me.

That being said, if you somehow decide that this letter wasn't up to your standards and reject my offer, I may just find myself in the deepest despair imaginable.

***

I was definitely way too in my head about this.

It was just a text. Sure, it was a risky text to send, but I had no doubt in my mind that it would be fine in the end.

So why was my stomach churning just thinking about sending it?

Some might have chalked it up to my fat ol' crush on Spencer, but I knew it ran deeper. It had to do at least a little with my history with Patrick... The man stood me up and sent divorce papers to my place of work rather than to my face... And as much as I liked to think I was completely over it, we'd been together for years, and it really did a number on me.

I didn't want to ruin this new thing with Spencer so badly that I was overthinking everything.

So even though I could see his face opening the text, my heart doing jumps at the mere thought of it, a bigger part of me worried that it would be a step too far in the wrong direction. I didn't want him to think I was only in this for... sexual reasons. Which, don't get me wrong, have been pretty damn great so far, but I really did want to get to know him and see where this went.

In the end I decided to hold off. I settled for something a little lighter.

Spencer,

Don't feel too bad about your cooking skills. I've been through my fair share of burnt frozen pizzas to know how you're feeling. So the fact that you've given yourself the opportunity to practice and learn a recipe just for me is extremely romantic, and I appreciate the thought.

I won't stop you from following through, though I'm telling you now that no amount of slaving away in the kitchen will make me change my mind about you. We could probably eat stale crackers on the floor and I'd still find you utterly fascinating.

Maybe that's a bit too extreme, but I hope you get my point.

Anyway, I'd love to come over for dinner some time. Whenever you think you're ready to show me those improved cooking skills, you just let me know and I'll happily make my way over.

In the meantime, I'm thinking of sending more with my letters. I don't want to give away too much, but I will say that I'm very crafty. And don't feel like you need to send anything in return, though I'll let you know if I ever change my mind.

Yours,

Y/N

***

In the bottom right corner of the letter, right next to her signature, was a red lipstick stain in the shape of... well, her lips. It was common sense to know that they were hers and no one else's, not just a stamp or a drawing, and rather her actual lip stain... But even without it, I would have been able to tell by their shape.

Was that pathetic?

I could hear her, picture her in front of me, hovering above me with red-painted lips in the shape of a smirk, visibly cooing as she called me names... I could feel the ghost of her fingertips trailing up my throat and tilting my chin up to look at her as she rocked her hips teasingly into mine...

The whine I let out truly was pathetic.

You pathetic, needy little thing, I could hear her say...

My hands clutched the paper so tightly I thought I'd tear it, but it didn't matter when all I could see while staring at it was her luscious, red lips... Her voice was right there in my ear, like she was really beside me, watching me...

Oh, God, what would she do if she saw me right now? Staring at her lipstick stained paper and subconsciously grinding down into my chair...

You pathetic, needy little thing...

My hips jolted with a small, broken shout of her name, and in no time the front of my pants were flooded with warmth. I felt her eyes burning into me from the void, sparking to life with amusement as her voice crept into the deep corners of my brain and whispered praises to me.

Ohh, what a good little whore... Getting off to the thought of me... That's it, sweet boy... Come for me...

By now my eyes had squeezed shut and the letter was crumpled in my hand, the other reaching down to add much-appreciated burning friction to my crotch as I rode out my orgasm. My whole body tensed and shuddered at every sensation, from Y/N's image behind my eyes to the sweet warmth that pooled in my underwear and soaked through onto my hand.

Holy mother of—

The next time I saw her, I was screwed. I wouldn't be able to keep a straight face. I'd surely go red the second I laid eyes on her, and she'd know right away what I was thinking and feeling.

Simply put, it scared and excited me at the same time.

She'd utterly and thoroughly wrecked me, and if she didn't already know it, she certainly would soon.

Y/N,

I'm not sure what you intend to send in addition to your letters, but if it's anything near the sentiment of your lip stain, then you might have to refrain in favor of my poor, fragile heart.

See, it aches for you. It's bad enough I think of you always, but the moment I saw the shape of your lips on that letter, my heart almost shot straight out of my chest. Maybe it was the familiar shape of your lips or the implications of its place next to your name, signed after the word 'yours', that sent me into a tailspin, but whatever the case...

I'm pretty sure I've completely fallen under your spell.

I suppose I should also tell you that my heart wasn't the only part of my body that came to life at your added signature. I assure you, it took no time at all for me to come undone at the thought of your lips pressing gently against the paper, imagining that they were instead pressing to my skin... I didn't even have to touch myself, really. It just happened. Because of you and you alone.

I hope that wasn't too forward, but I felt it necessary that you know just how much of an effect you have on me.

If I could see you again in a millisecond, it wouldn't be soon enough.

That being said, I am determined to spend as much time as possible to perfect this dish for our dinner. Because you deserve nothing but the best, even if you insist that you could settle for less.

It's the least I can do.

Yours, Spencer.

And a week and a half later, when I didn't get a letter back on time, I was sure I'd messed up for good.

My mind was racing a mile a minute, yelling at myself for even thinking for a second of being that detailed in a letter without any consent. Sure, she'd taken it a step up by signing off her letter with a kiss, but I'd been absolutely idiotic in telling her that I got off to it.

I was honestly well and truly prepared to show up at her house with a big bouquet of flowers and an apology so wordy and probably too long for anyone's liking, in hopes that she'd forgive me for making this huge mistake.

Thankfully, though, it wasn't needed.

My phone chimed as I was pacing, my lip near bloody with how hard I'd been chewing at it, and I saw an unknown number attached to a text message and photo attachment.

The photo wouldn't load (I would have to plug it into my laptop and transfer the image there to see it— a fact which always irked Penelope to the core), but with the sentences I saw above the file, I almost knew exactly what I'd find when I had the means to see it.

There. Now we're even... Who says text messages can't be romantic and personal? XXX, Y/N

I felt like Bambi as I scrambled to my laptop three rooms over, stumbling over weak legs with my phone clutched tightly in my hand. My heart raced faster than it ever had as I started everything up and retrieved the right cord for my phone. With a few shakes and stumbles here and there, I briefly entertained the idea of upgrading my phone.

I probably would have left the apartment to do it immediately after seeing her photo attachment, but the moment it loaded up on my screen, my brain and body lost all ability to function properly.

A familiar burn coursed through the lower half of my body and tightened my chest at the sight of her, open and exposed and... wet.

My laptop screen was completely taken over by the image of Y/N's pussy, visibly glistening and aroused. A manicured hand—her hand— was in frame as well, middle finger resting snugly between the supple skin of her wet lips.

The fact that I only tasted her once felt downright cruel.

I tried to imagine it again— my face buried between the softness of her thighs. As much as I wanted to lay her down and indulge myself as long as possible, taking all the time in the world to slowly devour her and truly explore her for myself, what ran through my mind then was something more in the vein of our dynamic thus far.

My mind wandered, specifically to a place where I was the one laying down as she sat down directly onto my face and gave me what she thought I deserved. My hands were tied to the bed, maybe handcuffed. All I knew was that I couldn't touch her, and it bothered me. So I whined, and every time the sound left my mouth, she would let up, lifting further out of reach and causing me to instinctively reach my head up to chase her.

You greedy little slut... Take what I give you...

Desperately seeking her approval, I told her I'd be good and rejoiced when she lowered herself down to me again, allowing me to me completely wrapped up in her once more. My tongue lapped and lapped, gathering as much of her as I could before she'd inevitably leave again.

But she never did.

Somehow I kept my quiet, even though it was extremely difficult, and ate her out like my life depended on it. She glided smoothly over my face, coating more than just my lips in her arousal, and it thrilled me to my very core.

Every time I breathed in I could smell her, every time she groaned out my name my stomach fluttered, and it wasn't long before she was clutching my hair, shaking above me while I drank her in and repressed my whines.

My hips were uncontrollable though, bucking up into nothing and begging for any type of stimulation.

But then suddenly it was there— Her hand, firmly wrapping around my dick and gliding over it beautifully with a slickness that she must have transferred from her pussy. I could still taste her as I cried out her name, her movements quickening with every second until—

I didn't even realize I was actually alone until my eyes opened, cum coating my hand, my heartbeat heavy and loud, and the laptop screen in front of me a shade darker signaling a long period of inactivity.

I'd done it again...

And now we most certainly were not even.

I glanced over at my phone—plugged into the laptop—and then down at my lap, and my stomach knotted as my next move rang clear as day.

***

I woke up the next morning to texts from Spencer, and my heart picked up speed, a gentle warmth blooming through my chest at the sight.

I thought maybe he'd thank me for the photo I'd sent. Maybe he'd return it with an influx of messages along the lines of Oh my god, Holy fuck I miss you, and the like.

But what I wasn't expecting was to see a photo in return, of his hand that I'd dreamt of nearly nightly, wrapped firmly around his cock and all of it completely covered in cum.

Below the photo were three messages in a row, and each one gave me more butterflies than the last.

Sorry for low quality. No smartphone.

Also sorry we're not even anymore.

But I'm not sorry I did it- you're too perfect to resist.

***

Dearest Y/N,

I'm sorry you haven't gotten a letter from me in a while. And I know we've kept in touch through texting and calling while I was swamped at work, though now that I have some time off, I'd love to write you again. As much as I enjoy our virtual conversations, I still find sending letters to be my preferred method of communication (only second to speaking with you in person, that is).

Which brings me to the main point I'm trying to make.

I want to see you again. In person. I'm not completely confident in my cooking ability yet, but if you wouldn't mind the potential of it tasting awful, I'd love to have you over. I promise you nothing but the best, and I know that's a high promise, especially considering I probably haven't sold you on the meal, but it's true.

I'd do anything to please you.

And I really do mean 'anything', I hope you understand that.

Yours, Spencer.

***

The thought of seeing him in person again after so long made my hands way shakier than I would have liked. It made no sense the longer I thought about it, because it was obvious that we liked each other, and seeing each other in person wouldn't be a problem. Because it'd never been a problem before.

It irked me.

Still, I knocked on his door and physically shook out my hands, praying I could keep my cool when he finally opened the door.

But I should have known better.

One second I was staring at a large plank of wood, and the next I was staring into frantic eyes, golden and sparkling just as I remembered, but with an added glimmer of fear that matched the shakiness of my hands.

I don't know how long we stood there, just staring at each other, but the longer we did, the more we relaxed. His fear was gone, and the shaking in my hands turned into a dull hum that longed to reach out for him.

Still, I refrained, settling on a simple, "Hey, pen pal..."

By the way he looked at me, silent as ever, I started to wonder if that was a stupid thing to lead with. So I opened my mouth to apologize, to say anything else, but he beat me to it.

"Y/N... I... H—Hi, you look... incredible."

"O—Oh, thanks... Thank you, yeah, I um... figured I should... dress up a little. I know we're not going out anywhere, but I thought it might be nice."

He doesn't need to know that, Y/N, stop talking!

I gave him a small smile and a nervous laugh in an attempt to stop myself, hating how I was so nervous around him.

Spencer didn't seem to mind, though. He let me in and closed the door behind me as I quickly glanced around his apartment. It was littered with greens and browns, books everywhere, and I'd never felt more at home.

"Is it, uh... What you expected?"

"Hmm?" I turned to meet him, his soft voice pulling me from my wandering eyes.

"My apartment."

"Oh! Yeah, it's very you... I love it."

The compliment had his cheeks turning pink, and there was nothing I wanted to do more than kiss them over and over again.

And just like that, once again we were caught just staring at each other. I didn't know what he was thinking, and honestly, I didn't know what I was thinking either. All I knew in that moment was that Spencer Reid was standing right in front of me, close enough to touch, and I wanted to give in.

I was so wrapped up in the idea of feeling him that I almost didn't hear him speak. I wouldn't have heard him at all had it not been for his lips moving.

"I'm sorry, I haven't started dinner yet..."

"That's okay," I reassured. Or, at least I tried to. Really, though, I think it sounded more like I was uninterested in what he was saying, my voice flat and lifeless as I continued to stare at him.

Suddenly we were closer, and I had to look up higher to see his face, butterflies swarming in my stomach at the way he looked down at me.

"You're sure?"

"Mhm."

"I can start it now if you're getting hungry."

Food isn't what I'm hungry for, is what I thought. I almost said it, too, because he was even closer now, his hands coming out to touch mine. If they were humming before, they were certainly blaring with life now, growing hot under his light touch. And it took everything I had not to look down, because it had been too damn long since I'd seen his hands in person, and I wanted them on me immediately.

He could tell, too. He could sense my urgency, feel the longing radiating off my presence, and I knew this because I could feel his, too. His eyes practically dared me to say what I was thinking, and so I did.

"Don't you dare."

It was hard to tell who moved in first, but it really didn't matter.

I was here, in his apartment, feeling his lips glide over mine with reckless abandon, and that's all that mattered.

His hands gripped my waist so tightly I would have thought he was trying to hold me in place, to make sure I wasn't ever going to leave his sight again. And if that was the case, I would have let him hold me there forever.

My hands, meanwhile, clutched at his hair, forcing myself closer and closer to him with every sharp tug. I reveled in the way he whined into my mouth with every little thing I did, whether it was a tug of the hair or a roll forward of the hips, or even a swipe of my tongue over his.

He was putty in my hands yet again, and just like every time before, it turned me into a fucking goner.

Being with Spencer wasn't like anything I'd ever known. And the only other thing I'd known was Patrick. He didn't want me, not really, and even though he was good to me in the beginning, it was never like this.

I didn't come over to his apartment with shaking hands. I didn't send him fucking love letters almost weekly, and I certainly didn't get kissed like this...

Spencer was drunk on me, and I wasn't any sober myself.

"That picture you sent me..." I mumbled over his lips, still keeping myself as close as I could while I got out what I needed to say. "Where did you take that?"

We kissed for a few more seconds, unable to stay apart, before he answered, his voice just as breathy and brimming with desperation as mine. "My office. Just down the hall."

I kissed him again, hard, and then pulled back to look him in the eyes. They widened when I said, "Show me."

He dragged me through the apartment on rushed legs, and I almost laughed at the urgency, only stopped by the realization that I was just as urgent. It occurred to me that perhaps my laughing at his urgency might just be a slight turn on for him, given our history with my playful degradation, but still I pulled back— Tonight felt... different.

It didn't feel like we were headed in the direction of me calling him my dirty little whore throughout the night, and it was something I was more than okay with. In fact, I welcomed it, excited to see where this new night would take us.

We ended up in his office, which remained more or less the same aesthetic as the rest of his place. In the middle sat a small desk with a laptop and some papers scattered about on it, accompanied by a tall floor lamp and a rolling desk chair.

"Where were you exactly?" I mused, gripping his hand tightly and buzzing at the way his fingers flexed against my own.

"In the chair... I pulled the photo up on my laptop."

"Right. No smartphone."

Spencer hummed in confirmation before dragging me along to the chair, and I fucking giggled as he plopped down and practically pulled me right on top of him, the chair rolling back a foot or two. I went down for a bright, messy kiss that ended with his hands clutching my ass over my skirt and my own cradling his face.

His growing bulge nudged right up into my inner thigh, and I groaned lightly in his mouth, my fingers dragging softly down his jaw and neck until I reached his shoulders.

"What were you thinking about?"

He raised his eyebrow, and I rocked my hips forward with a sly grin, hoping to get my point across. "When you were looking at my picture, in this very chair, what were you thinking about?"

Seeing his eyelids stutter and his tongue dart out at my movements sent a rush through me, and I moved my hips once more to emphasize my urgency.

"I... I thought about you... riding my face. You tied my hands..."

"Oh?" I sighed, rocking forward again and humming into his neck. "Well, that can definitely be arranged if you want it bad enough..."

"Please, Y/N, yes... Please..."

The need dripping from every syllable made it near impossible to breathe, and I was suddenly very inclined to give him everything he wanted. With or without the begging.

So I reluctantly peeled away from him and stood up on weak legs. Staring at Spencer as he sat there, leaning back in the chair with disheveled hair and obvious desire in his eyes, made it all the better when I took my panties off from under my skirt and motioned for him to come forward. "On your knees?"

I would have demanded it in any other situation, but I was feeling a bit more sweet this time around.

And he seemed grateful for it, sliding the chair back further and getting down in front of me. I reached out and played with his hair, trying my hardest to commit his beautiful face to memory. I wanted it burned there for the rest of time.

"Hands?"

Spencer offered his hands to me, and I hummed happily, doing my best to tie his hands together with a makeshift knot from my panties. It wasn't really tight or secure, but it was enough for him to whine as he set them in his lap.

He watched intently as I dropped my skirt—a bit redundant now, but I thought it'd be a nice way to get him more excited. Plus I wanted to see his face (or at lease what I could see of it while it was buried between my legs).

I stepped forward then, looking down at him with a smile while my hands reached out to comb through his hair. "You ready?"

"Uh huh."

The look in his eyes right before I came forward and hovered over his face almost made my come on the spot.

But as fun as that would have been, I was glad for the way my body held off and settled for a beautiful, burning increase of pleasure that dragged out the longer he swiped his tongue through my folds. Actually, I forgot for a moment that I was supposed to be moving, riding his face like he'd thought about.

I willed my eyes open and clutched Spencer's soft locks of hair beneath me, gently rolling my hips and grinding down further on his face. The groan he let out not only felt good against my skin, but it sounded like pure bliss, eliciting a small whimper of my own as I tightened my grip in his hair and rocked faster.

"God, I missed having your mouth on me, baby... You're... so good..."

The longer I spoke the more breathless I became, not because the words didn't come easily, but because I truly believed them to be true.

Spencer really was so fucking good, his tongue the most delicate, divine object of the universe as it drew out every ounce of delight from my body. I may have been the one above him, calling the shots and directing him where and how to please me, but he was the one who clung to my soul like static and politely guided me towards damnation.

I wasn't even sure of my surroundings to tell you the truth. As my body tensed and took me through one of the most blinding pleasures I'd experienced in weeks, My eyes were squeezed so tightly it's like I saw the universe. All I knew was Spencer's lips sucking my clit and my hands deeply rooted in his hair as I shouted incoherently, stars swirling around behind my eyelids.

Truly, for all I knew, we could have been in space. It wouldn't have made any difference.

But eventually it came to be too much. I was reaching a limit I didn't want to get to so quickly, and so I flashed my eyes open and tried to adjust to this brand new atmosphere, unweaving my fingers through pretty brown waves of hair and stepping back to assess the situation.

What I found was the most beautiful man I'd ever known, panting like he'd just ran a marathon and yet harboring the most intense joy and desire a person could hold. He was on his knees, bound hands writhing in his lap as he awaited further instruction and licked up as much of myself on his face as he could before I stopped him.

Under normal circumstances, I would have wanted to absolutely ruin him. That adoring, desperate look in his eye would have spurred me to more devious endeavors, but all I wanted in this moment was to make sure he was satisfied. I wanted to take care of him, to let him know that I longed to make him feel as worshipped and adored as he'd made me feel.

I got down to Spencer's level, quickly removing the fabric from his wrists and hauling him to his feet, where he now towered over me, still waiting for words to address and instruct him.

Instead, I leaned up with soft hands upon his cheeks and pulled him down to meet my lips in a kiss that changed the tone entirely. It was erotic still, of course, what with my arousal infiltrating my taste buds and eliciting a soft sigh from the both of us, but our urgency manifested in sweeter ways... Softer lips, gentle touches of the face, and an exchanging of breath that was so smooth and seamless it felt like we were floating on air.

I was finding it hard to breathe again, but it wasn't an issue in the slightest. In fact, there was nowhere else I'd rather have been than right there, kissing Spencer Reid like we had all the time in the world.

When the breathlessness was a little too much to bear, we pulled away, though only leaving just enough space to breathe. Our lips stayed briefly connected while we caught up, and his hands found their way to the sides of my face. The way they practically engulfed my whole head brought a brief smile to my lips as I finally gave him the words he was looking for.

"I'm so glad I met you," I whispered.

"Funny, I was just thinking the same thing."

We kissed each other again, naturally and with so much ease that I wondered how I had ever lived without him.

And then, as my hands slid gently down his chest, I felt it.

Something that felt very much like a ring attached to a necklace sat right where his heartbeat resided, and I knew exactly which ring it was.

"W—" I pulled back and circled the shape of it with my finger through the shirt, then looked up at him. "Is that what I think it is?"

Spencer looked briefly panicked, pulling away a little and fishing down the front of his shirt for the chain. "Oh... Um, yeah. I, um... I forgot to take it off, I'm sorry. I..."

"You... kept it?"

I observed the diamond as it laid flat on my palm, still attached to the chain and around his neck. Honestly, after all this time I figured he'd never found it or gotten rid of it, seeing as he never brought it up. And yet there it was, glittering in the palm of my hand as my other one presses firmly against Spencer's rapidly beating heart.

"Y—Yeah... It um... It was really the only physical thing I had to remember you—Well, at least until we started sending letters... And I guess I just... W—Wearing it has become such a habit that I forgot to take it off."

"You never take it off?"

I could tell he was nervous, and rightfully so given I wasn't really letting on how I was feeling about the whole thing.

Still, he answered my short question in such a small whisper I'd have thought he was trying not to get in trouble.

"No."

"Why?"

My words certainly weren't helping ease his anxieties, so I remained close, dropping the ring and focusing rather on his eyes. I softened the look in my own and glided my hands down to hold his. His fingers flexed against mine, squeezing them for dear life as he sighed out in relief and flashed me a soft smile.

"Because... I wanted you close to my heart."

With a smile that mirrored his eyes, full of enchantment and pure adoration for the person in front of me, I didn't use my brain and instead focused on what my heart was telling me, consequences be damned.

"I think I might love you..."

Spencer squeezed my hands tighter, that relief spreading out to all his features and brightening that beautiful smile.

"Funny... I was just thinking the same thing."

Our lips met once more, and I swear it was like nothing bad was ever going to happen for the rest of time.

I'd never felt that way. Not once with Patrick did my heart feel settled into place, even during the great parts of our relationship.

And now here I was, with a man who sent me love letters and kept every physical reminder of my existence, who kissed me like I was the most precious thing in the world and slowly mended my wounded heart.

He held me close the whole way to his bedroom and never let me go until the morning. Though, even then his arms outstretched towards me and his fingers flexed, needing to grab onto any part of me that he could find.

And as I was sure I always would, I welcomed him with open arms.

***

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#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader smut #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction

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echos-newlegs · 4 years ago

Note

if you’re still doing requests, would you maybe do #9 with Crosshair & a reader that uses he/him pronouns (but is maybe not cis idk?)?? Like maybe the batch rescued the reader from some sort of bad situation, & Cross is the only one awake to comfort him when the reader wakes up from a nightmare or has a flashback??? If this is too specific just lmk I just have a lot of Feelings about Crosshair ahdjajdjsksm

-boba-filth (<— side blog I check more for fic stuff)

Bad Dreams

Heck yes 😎 sorry if it is out of character and cruddy. Running into a bit of a writers block, but I’m tryna force it over— maybe.

@boba-filth

Crosshair x reader: “I’m not going to leave you, not now, not ever. You’ll never have to suffer alone again.”

Warnings: brief mentions of family death, touch starved, slightly out of character. Passing out/fainting from being malnourished. Reader is a Slave and TBB save them.

You were born into slavery. It was what made up your life. You never once imagined that you could be free. Live your own life. Make your own decisions. The idea of freedom made you laugh, honestly. It was just such a far stretch and unimaginable. You figured you'd die in the spice mines like the rest of your family did.

You were on lunch break. Eating quickly to avoid getting harassed or beaten by one of the soldiers watching you and the other workers on break. You guys rarely got time to yourselves. When you did, it was barely even a half hour long. So food was often shoved into your system like it was your last meal.

You looked up when you heard the sirens go off. Breath catching in your throat. They only went off for intruders or when there was a group of miners attempting escape. The noise was enough to have you and the others standing and starting your own commotion.

Fights broke out, blasters were fired. You didn't want to be caught in the middle of the fire, so you ran. Your eyes wide and darting around. You had to hide. Sure, life sucked, but you didn't want to die. Not today at least.

"Hey, you there!" A guard shouted, pointing to you. Making you run faster in a panic. You felt tears prick the corner of your eyes when a hand grasped your arm. Pulling you to the side. "Where d'ya think you're goin', wise one?" Another guard asked. Your body trembling as you stared up to him. "I was, I was just, I was getting out of the mess. They were firing-" you rambled. The guard snarling and shoving you. "Can it, fool."

You were sure you'd be shot. Closing your eyes when the one holding your arm raised a blaster to your forehead. "We don't do well with run aways, do we?" "Nope," the other guard answered. "What do ya say we play a-" Bang! Bang!

You inhaled sharply. Squeezing your eyes shut more than they were. Jumping as your fists clenched at the sound of the blaster. The smell of burning flesh and blaster residue filling your nose. "Hey, you alright?" A voice came from in front of you. Eyes parting to see someone in armor, with goggles? You were alarmed, to say the least. They had to be an intruder. But why did they save you..? A nobody?

"You saved me.." you babbled. Blinking in shock as you stared at the other. "Well, you looked like you needed the help, are you alright, though?" You nodded, rubbing your arm where the guard squeezed. You were sure there would be a bruise there. Your skin was so sensitive anymore. "Good," he started walking off, and you felt your body tremble again. "Wait! I know the exits. I can help you, if you get me out of here." You bargained. The man turning back to face you. Sighing, then kicking a blaster from one of the motionless bodies to you. "Alright, but stay close."

You did as told, and kept your piece of the deal. Following who you soon learnt to be named Tech, around the mines. The two of you meeting up with four other men. Who each had bags full of viles of spices. "Who's this?" The one asked, motioning to you with his helmet. "Our escape plan, they claim to know some exits." "The guards don't even know about them. We use them to get out of the mines for our breaks." You added, and the bigger of the men shoved you a bit. Though it wasn't in a forcing way. "Then let's get going!"

The six of you took through the tunnels. Feet grinding against the gravel as you ran. You felt so weak, tired. You wanted to rest, but this was your chance at freedom. Even if you didn't know these men. Life as their servant or whatever they planned on doing with you, would be a hell of a lot better than this life you portrayed.

You pressed your back against the wall when you heard foot steps that weren't your guys. Motioning for them to do the same, and they did. Men running by the tunnel hall heading the other direction. "How much further?" Tech asked, and you pointed to a latter. "There, that latter. It leads up to the surface." You spoke, and they nodded. Motioning for you to head there first, so they could keep watch.

The ground began to shake, parts of the tunnel behind you collapsing. "Hurry!" You shouted. The pain in your chest making your throat clench. Climbing up the latter as quickly as you could. The boys following after you. Making it out just as the tunnels caved in.

You practically threw yourself on the ground as you made it to the top. Everyone doing the same. Each of you panting, adrenaline racing. "So who are you guys?" You asked in between breaths. Standing to your feet a bit shakily. "We're Clone Force 99," one spoke. "We call ourselves the Bad Batch, I'm Hunter, this is Tech, Crosshair, Echo, and Wrecker." You nodded a bit. "Thank you," you murmured. Them all giving you a questioning look under their visors, and you were sure of it by the way Echo and Tech tilted their heads. "For helping free me."

Tech nodded. Approaching you, helping steady you as you swayed. "You can some with us, least we can do for you helping us." You looked to the others, and they all nodded. "Got any family?" You frowned. "No." Everyone was silent at that. "Well, it's settled then, Tech, Echo, help them to the ship. Cross, keep a look out for any guards or clankers. Wrecker, help me carry the cargo." Hunter spoke, causing you to weakly smile. Passing out at some point to the ship.

When you went limp in their arms everyone panicked. Echo and Techs grip tightening on you to help lift your deadweight. "Are they alright?" Wrecker asked, and Echo sighed as the two raced you into the Marauder. "I'd say they're just wore, they look extremely malnourished, I know from experience it's hard to not pass out in that state." Echo informed. Lying you on a bunk, and Tech nodded. "They aren't a clone, either, so I'm shocked they kept standing as long as they did."

You were fine, really, but Tech and the others took turns watching over you while you rested. Water and rations next to the bunk you rested on. It was Crosshairs turn for the night to keep watch. Make sure if you woke up before they got back to Naboo to return the cage that he could explain where you were. Keep you from panicking, or so they hoped.

You were beginning to sweat. Eyebrows creasing, hands balling into fists at your sides while you dreamt. It was hardly a dream, more a reply of your past. Your family. Watching them die before you. Held at gun point. Bags over there heads, blaster shot to their foreheads. Out of your parents and four younger siblings, you were the only one kept alive.. 'This is what happens to slaves who don't listen! '

You jerked up with a startled sob. Hands clenching the sheets. Feet scrambling while you looked around. Chest rising and falling in a quickened pace as your eyes darted around the dimly lit room.

Crosshair looked up from polishing his gun at the commotion. Setting the rifle and cloth aside. "You okay?" He asked, he wasn't too confident on what to ask. Other than that. Watchibg as your head turned to look at him. "Who are you?" You asked with worry. He was about to question you, until he remembered you hadn't seen them without their helmets. "It's crosshair, you saved my brothers and I from the mines." He explained. You calmed slightly at that. Licking your lips, then looking down. "Oh okay," was all you spoke.

You both sat there in silence for a bit. Your hands relaxing. Now resting in your lap as you leant against the wall. Attempting to steady your breathing. "There's some food and water for ya." He motioned to the small table beside you, and your eyes darted to it. You were starving, you didn't get to eat today before the alarms sounded. Raching over to take the rations and water. Dowing them both like you'd never eaten in you life. Which sometimes it felt that way.

Crosshair watched with a small smirk. "Hungry, little one?" You felt a bit self-concious at his words. Only nodding slightly as you took a final sip of the water. Then placing the tray back down next to the bed.

"You have bad dreams often?" He questioned, and you looked down to your hands. Fiddling your thumbs as you nodded shyly. "Sometimes, yeah.." he sighed at that. "I can lay down with you," he joined, causing you to glance over to him. Watching as he stood and approached where you were resting. Taking this time to notice he wasn't in his armor anymore. Only his blacks, which gave you a better image of his body. As the fabric hugged his skin.

Your heart was racing. Squeezing your hands together to keep them from trembling. You hadn't had physical contact in so long, even the offer of it intimidated, but also excited you. "You don't have to," you told him, and he shrugged. "It'll help us both."

You scooted over as he began to climb into the bed. Pulling the covers over the both of you. The two of you sinking down to lay on your backs with small sighs. "You this nice to every new comer you come across?" You asked. Turning onto your side to face him. Cross turning his head to look at you with a small shrug. "Maybe I am," he gruffed. Making you smile a bit. "I doubt it."

Crosshair didn't respond to that. The room falling quiet again. "You get bad dreams too, then?" You blurted, and he exhaled. "Yeah," you nodded a bit. "Do you ever.. Dream about memories? Bad ones?" You asked. Playing with the fabric of the pillow, and he nodded again. "I keep dreaming about my families death." You admitted, and he looked over to you. His expression unreadable, but his eyes screamed worry. "Does it ever stop?" You asked. Voice cracking.

He thought for a moment, then licked his lips. "Somedays." You felt a little better hearing that, you guessed. "Sometimes they're worse." You frowned at that.

He looked over, catching your look of disappointment and displeasure. Turning to his side to reach out for you. It was weird for him, touching someone he barely knew, but you seemed like you needed it, and something about you struck his interest. He saw part of himself in you.

"Hey, I’m not going to leave you, not now, not ever. You’ll never have to suffer alone again.” He reassure. Rubbing small circles into the small of your back. Causing you to stop breathing for a second. Processing what was happening. "But you tell aby of my brothers about this, I'm leaving you in the streets of Naboo." You smiled faintly at that. Unsure if he was serious or not, but you could hear the hint of sarcasm in his voice. You hummed, curling up closer to him. "I won't."

#crosshair x reader #bad batch x reader #star wars #star wars writing #the bad batch #the clone wars #writing #crosshair #bad batch crosshair #crosshair x you #clone wars x reader #the clone wars x reader

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ptergwen · 4 years ago

Note

can you do a best friends to lovers blurb where the reader kisses peter on the cheek and he just stands there like shocked?

ahhhhhh 🥺

today has been a good day. school went by fast, you didn’t get any homework, and you’re on your way to delmar’s with peter. the two of you go together every friday. he used to go alone for a quick lunch until he met you.

you’d been paired to write a dialogue in your spanish class that day. you were good, but peter was really good. his vocabulary was more advanced than the list your teacher gave you. obviously, you had to compliment his skills. peter had taken it with a shy smile he bit back. you asked him where he learned all of that, so he told you about mr. delmar.

how he would work on his spanish with him whenever he went, and he’d sometimes give peter free candy. peter would attempt at least one sentence every time he stepped foot in the store. you’d found yourself grinning along at the story. he seemed like such a sweetheart.

you said you’d have to stop by the bodega one day. peter made a bold move and asked if you wanted to go with him later. and thus, your friendship was formed.

“can we do something tomorrow? or are you busy?” you ask peter as you walk, a knowing tone to your voice. “uh, during the day, yeah. i’m patrolling later,” he replies and tightens his arm around his history textbook. your lips form a playful smile. “take me.” “never,” peter deadpans, chuckling at your words.

“but i wanna know what you do,” you sigh and tilt your head up to the sky. it’s blue with only a couple of clouds. peter is very secretive about his superhero outings, for his sake and especially yours. glancing over at you, peter offers a smirk. “then get bit by a radioactive spider.” “ok, you know what?” you playfully huff, pulling open the door as you arrive at delmar’s.

peter leaves his textbook outside, then fishes into his pocket for his wallet. mr. delmar opens up his arms and grins as you two get on line. “hey, my favorite customers,” he greets you, the man he’s ringing up making a face. you and peter laugh amongst yourselves. “have a nice day, bud,” mr. delmar tells the man before sending him on his way.

“hi, mr. delmar,” peter smiles, stepping up with you next to him. “hey, parker. you kids want your usuals?” he nods at one of the other workers to start making your sandwiches. you point at him and say, “you already know.” grinning to himself now, peter gets out his money to pay for you two. your hand brushes his as you take it and give it to mr. delmar.

he notices peter’s face flush, but doesn’t say anything. yet. “working on your spanish, yeah?” he asks you two and directs it more to peter. “sí,” you reply on your own behalf, which earns a hearty laugh from mr. delmar. “muy bien, y/n. excelente,” peter sarcastically comments as you scrunch your face up at him. he’s being very cheeky today.

“i’m gonna go get your textbook before a rat eats it,” you decide and step past him. “bye, mr. delmar!” you call to him, heading out the door while peter shakes his head. he shouts back a “bye, kid!” once you’re out of sight, he gets into the real stuff. he looks from the door to peter in a way that makes him scared for what’s going to come next.

“what?” peter asks, eyebrows knitted together. mr. delmar scoffs and rests his arms on the countertop. “she likes you.” swallowing the spit that suddenly formed in his mouth, peter plays it off. “who, y/n? no.” “sí,” mr. delmar jokingly says your word from before. “you like her, too,” he concludes. that leaves peter speechless. he thought he was good at hiding it.

“you should bring her a flower or something. a cookie, maybe. i sell those,” mr. delmar suggests with a wink. peter looks out the window to see you hugging his textbook in your arms. you wiggle your eyebrows at him when you see him watching you. here goes nothing and also everything. “i’ll... i’ll get her a cookie. do you have chocolate chip?” he murmurs and reaches for his wallet.

mr. delmar pulls a cookie wrapped in cellophane from the basket on the counter. “i do,” he confirms and slides it towards peter. “how much is it?” peter searches for the couple of dollars he assumes it’ll be. “eight bucks,” mr. delmar casually responds. eyes going wide, peter looks up at him again. “i don’t have-“

“i’m busting your balls, parker. just take it,” mr. delmar laughs out. a breath of relief escapes peter and he grabs the cookie. “thank you so much.” the man who made your sandwiches hands the bag to mr. delmar. he hands the bag to peter with a smile. “go get the girl.” “i will,” peter smiles back and tucks the bag into one arm. “see you later, mr. delmar.”

the bell ringing as peter comes outside catches your attention. you walk up to him, still holding on to his textbook. “seven years later,” you joke about how long it took. “i was getting you something, actually,” peter proudly takes the credit for mr. delmar’s idea. he’d want him to. your face lights up. “ooh, really? what is it?”

peter holds out the cookie to you with a small smile. you gasp and take it from him. his smile grows even bigger. “yay! thank you.” before he can process what’s happening, your lips are on his cheek. it lasts for all of two seconds, but it’s never going to leave his mind now. peter’s mouth hangs open as you start to walk. he’s left dumbstruck by the tiny kiss.

“come on!” you yell to him, stopping on the sidewalk. peter doesn’t even hear you. the voice saying she kissed me, she kissed me, she kissed me over and over again in his head drowns you out.

#tom holland #peter parker #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #peter parker fic #peter parker fanfiction #tom holland fluff #tom holland imagine #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x reader

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wilteddaisies · 4 years ago

Text

Yours - Chapter Three

Azriel x Female!Reader (acotar)

Word Count: 2.4k

Summary: You are Feysand’s daughter and you’ve just come home from your studies in the Day Court. Azriel needs someone with extensive training in magic in order to complete a mission for the Night Court. You happen to be just what he needs.

Fic Warnings: age gap?, probably cursing, eventual smut, wing kink ;)

Chapter Warnings: the there’s only one bed trope, angst, cursing, wing kink, oral sex (female receiving), slight overstimulation

Note: I am so happy be sharing this chapter, it was an absolute delight to write! I love writing soft happy Az because we didn’t see nearly enough of that in the books lol. Enjoy!

CHAPTER THREE

You left the next day. After healing Azriel’s wings completely, in terribly awkward silence, you packed lightly and were off. You expected to be away from home for only a few nights. But, your pack seemed to weigh a ton after hours of flying. You and Azriel decided that it would be best to conserve as much magic as possible to bypass the wyvern and whatever other enchantments there might be to keep people out.

You finally touched down right as the sun was setting, at the edge of a town near the castle. You quickly used your magic to cloak your wings and then Azriel’s before walking down the cobblestone road into town. The town was decorated with all sorts of banners and streamers, there must be some sort of festival or celebration going on.

The walk to the inn was quiet, unbearably so, just as the flight was with neither of you wanting to talk about your encounter two nights ago. You stride into the inn to the front desk.

“Ahem,” you cleared your throat to get the attention of the bored looking boy behind the desk. He leisurely kept flipping through his leaflet, taking his time before turning his eyes up. And then immediately blanching at Azriel’s glowering figure behind you.

“How-,” he squeaked and then cleared his throat, shoving the leaflet under the desk then straightening himself on his tool, “How can I help you?”

“Two rooms, please,” you told the boy.

“I’m sorry we only have one room available. The town is flooded with visitors for the Summer Festival this week, you see.” He visibly swallowed and tried to avoid Azriel’s merciless stare.

“Oh. . .” you started, “I suppose we could go somewhere else-”

“That will do, we’ll take it.” Azriel replied curtly.

“Are you sure?” you murmured to him, he probably wanted to keep avoiding and ignoring you, “We can try to find-”

“There likely won’t be an inn with more availability any time soon. It’s fine.” He looked at the worker boy and held out his hand for the key. The boy tried not to shake as he handed them over to Az and his eyes grew to the size of saucers once Az threw a few gold coins over his shoulder onto the desk, far more than a single room at the semi-decent inn was worth.

Fuck. Az unlocked the room and lo and behold, there was only one bed, it was probably sufficient for two humans but would be a tight fit for two Illyrians, especially ones who wanted to stay three feet apart at all times. Gods, it was like one of Aunt Nesta’s trashy romance novels.

You both looked pitifully at the bed.

“I’ll sleep on the floor,” you both say at the same time. Weird.

“No, you’re not,” again. Weirder. The silence that followed was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

“Stop,” you say, “we are both adults. We can share the bed.”

“Fine.”

“Good.” You took your bag into the connected washroom, changing into something more suitable for the mortal realm than your flying leathers before striding out of the washroom and out of the room altogether.

“Where are you going?” Az asked, annoyed.

“To find that adventure you were talking about,” you threw over your shoulder.

“Your father told me not to let you out of my sight!” he called down the hallway. You kept walking but turned your head to shout back once more.

“Then I guess you’ll just have to come with me!” You turned back around to hide your smirk. You were not going to let some grumpy Illyrian male ruin your first adventure outside of Prythian.

The light had faded almost completely, twilight was nearing its end. But, the night had only just begun. People started to hang lit paper lanterns on strings that criss crossed above the city streets. Children ran around freely, clutching lanterns of their own, and someone somewhere started to play a fiddle. A small crowd had begun to form around the fiddler, who had since been joined by a tambourine and lute player. The music was different from the floating melodies of Velaris, it was more rambunctious, more untamed. Soon, people were dancing to the merry jig, grabbing partners and swinging each other about. No choreographed moves or set steps yet, just dancing, free and wild. And soon, you were swept into the fray, too.

The song after did have a dance that went with it, and though you didn’t know it, the locals were happy to teach you. You formed a ring and joined hands, your feet stumbling over steps you hadn’t quite memorized but you didn’t care. Laughter rang through the air just as the music did, and wine and ale flowed freely.

The song ended and another began, this one for pairs. You were asked to dance by a young boy of maybe twelve, to which you graciously accepted his hand and whirled into the fray, switching partners constantly. As the song crescendoed into its last note, you found yourself faced with a familiar chest, this time clothed in mortal attire rather than Illyrian flying leathers. You looked up to meet a pair of familiar hazel eyes. He was flushed, and breathing heavily but smiling widely, bigger than you had seen him smile in a long time. It seemed he had been enjoying the festivities, too.

You smiled back at him before ducking out of his grip as the next song started. And you both were content with that, occasionally winding up dancing next to or with one another. Azriel laughed freely, something you didn’t see the shadowsinger do nearly as often enough, and danced without restraint.

It was nearly three in the morning when you stumbled back to your room still humming the melodies of the night, feeling utterly content after the hours of dancing and drinking and eating from the various vendors across the festival. You released the magic cloaking both of your wings and got ready for bed, taking turns with Az for the washroom, but talking and laughing about your night the whole time even through the closed door. You tried not to stare as he walked back into the bedroom in only a pair of loose sleeping trousers with a few droplets of water still clinging to his gloriously muscled chest.

“How was I supposed to know it was spicy?” you scoff.

“It was red as. . . well, as red as your face was after eating it!” he laughed and you lightheartedly punched him in the arm.

“And then when you almost knocked over that old woman during that one song!”

“In my defense,” he started, holding his hands up, “that dance was a difficult one and she was a very short lady. How was I supposed to see her? Oh, how did the steps go again?”

“Here,” you said, stepping towards him to take both of his hands, “mirror my movements.” And you started with a series of steps and kicks that Azriel absolutely butchered but you walk him through it again, until he’s halfway decent. But, then he stepped on your foot for what had to be the sixth time and you both bursted out laughing, absolutely hollering while clutching each other like mad men.

As you settled down, Az realises that he is still holding your hands. He sobered up at the sight of his marred flesh against your own, and pulled his hands away.

“Why, Az?” you can’t seem to stop the words from escaping your mouth. Maybe it’s the booze or the unhinged nature of tonight but, you just can’t hide the hurt in your voice or your eyes. “Why do you always pull away from me, right as we seem to be connecting? Am I really that repulsive to you?”

He took a seat at the edge of the bed, but you followed, standing right before him. “No, gods no. It’s just that-,” he paused, trying to find the words. “It’s just that. . .,” he finally huffed a sigh, keeping his eyes downward, “If I don’t pull away then, I might never be able to.”

You froze at his confession. The words replayed over and over in your mind. If I don’t pull away then, I might never be able to.

You knelt down in front of him, placed a hand over his own, and tried to meet his eyes from beneath your lashes. “Then don’t,” you breathed. “Don’t pull away from me, you never have to pull away from me.” Your breathing suddenly became labored.

His eyes snapped to yours, they were so full of deep intensity you thought you might melt. And slowly, carefully, as if he might frighten you if he moved too quickly, Azriel lifted a hand to caress your cheek. You breathed out a sigh and closed your eyes, leaning into his touch. Then, you turned your head, and pressed a soft kiss to his palm.

That was his undoing. Quicker than you could react, he lifted you onto the bed, his strong body hovering over yours. You couldn’t help that your breathing stuttered for a moment. He was on top of you, his thickly muscled arms braced on either side of your head, his weight comfortably settled between your thighs and his lips, those gods damned lips, hovered a mere hairsbreadth away from yours. You were the one that broke this time. You placed your hands behind his neck and drew him towards you, finally closing the terrible distance between your mouths. Your lips moved in sync, kissing, licking, nipping. His tongue swiped your lip, asking for permission before caressing your own, you groaned at the taste of him. Then, you hissed softly as he took your bottom lip between your teeth, gently pulling before releasing it and attacking your mouth once more.

His hands roamed down your sides, skimming your breasts over your thin nightgown. Your nipples hardened delightfully so at the attention. But when he reached out to caress your wings, gods.

You cried out, back arching as you experienced a very different bolt of pleasure straight to your core. Your eyes widened as you looked at him, you had never been with a male who knew how to touch your wings and being with him made you realise exactly what you had been missing. Again, he dragged his finger down the inner curve of your right wing. Another cry escaped your lips, you were just so sensitive. Just that little touch had you writhing beneath him on the bed. He shifted his weight on his arms to work on your other wing. You let out a whimper as he gently traced his fingers along the sections. Your hips involuntarily bucked upwards, grinding deliciously against him when he pressed down on a particularly pleasurable spot. He grunted at the friction and halted his actions. His pupils dilated and his mouth fell open slightly as he scented exactly how excited you were. Smiling wickedly, he trailed a line of kisses from your lips, down your neck, in the valley of your breasts, to your navel, and lifted the flimsy nightgown to your waist.

He took the edge of your panties with his teeth and tugged them down. Fuck. That was definitely a sight to behold. You couldn’t help but feel self conscious as he stared at your dripping core, you tried to close your legs but he held them open firmly. He leaned down so close you could feel his breath on your throbbing core, and looked up at you in silent question, genuinely wanting your command to proceed.

“Please.” It was barely a breath but it was enough for him to press a kiss to your hooded clit with such tenderness you could cry. But, then he started to use his tongue, and gods did he know how to use it. The rough velvet of his tongue felt so delicious against your clit and folds. His soft kitten licks turned rougher, hungrier. Your hand found itself tangled in his hair, he hissed at a particularly hard tug but it only spurred him on. He used his mouth on you like a man starved. Licking and nipping and sucking, sucking with those gods damned lips, and playing with your folds.

It was when your legs started trembling that he knew you were close. And his eagerness doubled, if not tripled. His mouth felt like utter heaven on your sopping core, the lewd noises that came from his ministrations only driving you further into bliss, or insanity. Perhaps it was insanity. Perhaps you had gone mad, mad with the desire to have him, to claim him. Because right then, you weren’t sure you could ever get enough of him.

You felt a coil tighten in your lower stomach, the familiar pleasant ache intensifying until you could hardly bear it. And his lips and tongue never stopped. Right as you were on the edge, his lips closed over your clit and sucked, hard.

You had never experienced an orgasm like the one Azriel had given you. Pure bliss washed over you, but instead of a wave, it was like a firework went off in your core, with bolts of mind shattering pleasure shooting out from your center to the rest of your body. You’re not sure what you screamed but it sounded a lot like his name.

He kept up his movements as you came down, drawing out your high for longer than you thought possible, only stopping when your hips were squirming to get away from his eager mouth.

He came back up to wrap you in his arms, holding you to his chest before also wrapping his wings around you. You were still basking in the high of your amazing orgasm but you reached down towards his achingly hard member. But, he took your hand and held it over his heart instead.

“But what about you?” you ask, breathless.

“It’s alright. I’ve waited so long for this, let me just take care of you.” He sweetly pressed a kiss to your forehead before also pressing one to your lips. And you, too blissed out to object, snuggled deeper into his chest and wings, content to just live in the moment, safe in his arms. You closed your eyes and drifted off into a deep sleep, dreaming of leathery wings and hazel eyes.

Author’s Note: Aw yeah we love the smexy times. If you liked this, please show your support by liking, commenting, and reblogging and all that good stuff. If you wanna to be added to the taglist for this fic, you can leave comment below :)

I do not consent for my work to be reposted or translated on tumblr or any other site, but reblogs are always welcome!

Taglist: @moonchild-cf @pansexual-booknerd @huffypuffyme @tinkymae @peneflop @myfuckingacademia @sugarcoated44 @kexrtiz @gagaange @itsbebeyyy

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel smut #azriel fluff #azriel x y/n #sarah j maas #feysand #nessian #acowar #acofas #acomaf #fanfic #illyrian #my writing

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tobiosmilktea · 4 years ago

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umpah umpah! smau

↪︎ bokuto x f!reader x iwaizumi

[027] — trust the victim!

masterlist | prev. | next

a/n: i literally just bought christmas gifts for my entire family and my bank account said 📉📉📉

“no, i’m good, thanks.” satomi deadpans for the umpteenth time today.

sure, those bear costumes were adorable and the cafe just behind the pair of mascots looked like a good place to eat, but this was not the time. if she were to be late to work, she hasn’t have the slightest clue on what her boss, mr. kono would think. she just hoped and prayed that she wouldn’t be fired, but especially after that one time went out with iwaizumi, she wasn’t sure anymore. missing work as a healthcare worker was already a serious ordeal, but being part of a professional team’s sports medicine team was on another level of seriousness. hell, she got suspended for an entire week just for a night, she couldn’t spare another minute.

“are you sure?” the shorter bear asked again, “your dessert will be on the house if you eat now!”

satomi had a lot of patience. considering she’s good friends with bokuto and the physical therapist for the black jackals, it’s almost essential to have such a trait. yet by now, her patience was wearing quick.

“we’ll even throw in a free drink!” the taller bear added. their voices sounded awfully familiar.

granted, everything seemed awfully familiar today—from the couple she tried to help back at the coffeeshop and that random girl that accidentally bumped into earlier, but it didn’t matter now. she could not sacrifice years of hard work in medical school while finessing her way up the ladder to even work for a division 1 volleyball team for a stupid mistake.

something within satomi snapped, “i said i’m fine.” she huffed, pushing through the bear’s stuck arms holding promotional flyers. she stomped away, relishing the slight inkling of relief course through her as she finally escaped the pair. however the relief didn’t reign supreme for long once her eyes checked her phone.

shit, satomi thinks. i’m fucking late.

it was then did she push her weight off her right leg, running towards the gymnasium just a few blocks away. she felt like she was about to throw up her heart at any minute thinking of the consequences she would have to face once she entered that damned building. man, did she regret a lot of things by now. she wished to ignore the rising sting of her thighs that grew fatigued by the second, yet she’d rather think about the pain than beat herself up over her regrets.

satomi was well aware that she wouldn’t even be in this predicament if she didn’t say yes to iwaizumi. and yet, there was no way in hell did she regret going out with him. besides, she has a good feeling that their relationship could actually happen. maybe getting him drunk that one time was the best idea she ever had.

why else did he ask her out if he didn’t like her back?

her breath heaved as she pulled herself into a stop. entering the stadium doors, she was greeted by the security guard. she greets him back with a faux smile melting across her face as she reached into her bag for her id. “where the hell?” she muttered, “where’s my wallet?”

“is there a problem?” fujiyoshi, the security guard asked.

an annoyed scoff emitted from the girl. great, she thinks, can this day get any worse?

“sorry, fujiyoshi-san.” satomi says with the timbre of her voice suddenly turning sweet and provoking, “i don’t i have my id on me right now.”

the guard’s usual hard expression didn’t soften in the slightest and it kind of took satomi aback. usually guys would fall her sweet words, but she honestly wasn’t surprised that someone that’s a beefy security guard with muscles bigger than her head wouldn’t fall for that.

“you know i can’t let you in without a form of identification that you work here.” he dictates.

“oh come on, fujiyoshi!” satomi exclaimed desperately, “you see me walk inside every, just let me through!”

“no can do, ms. yahagi. we’ve been having security issues lately and this is just a necessary precaution.”

satomi rolls her eyes, just put me out of my misery. “but you can't just—” she suddenly pauses as the black jackals and the rest of their sports medicine team make their way into the gymnasium. “bokuto! iwaizumi!” she shouts their names. the volleyball player and the athletic trainer look their way towards the girl a few meters away, held back by a security guard and the safety railing. “can you please tell this guy to let me in?”

by now the entire team was looking at her like a museum exhibit as all of them knew of all the fucked up things that she did. but honestly, if it wasn’t for sakusa and tomas holding back hinata and atsumu, who knew what those two would’ve done—maybe yell at her or just spoil all the fun of her suffering.

there was a level of confusion of satomi’s face when they all just stood there doing nothing. she gets that it’s strange seeing their physical therapist not be let in cause she forgot her id card, but things felt... different and she didn’t know what. did she have something on her face?

iwaizumi looks away, forcing himself not to look at the girl who used him for her own accord. he opted to think about you instead. meanwhile, bokuto continued to stare daggers at her, holding back a smirk as the sound of clicking shoes echoed from one of the hallways.

“hello?” satomi calls out again, “are you going to tell him to let me in?”

“that won’t be necessary,” a deep, guttural voice says, followed by none other than her boss, mr. kono, all suit-clad and his hair gelled back. “let her in,” he tells fujiyoshi.

“thank you!” she rolls her eyes before pushing through to the other side. she approaches the group of volleyball players and her medicine team, but is immediately stopped.

“come with me to my office.”

“what?” satomi asked, brows furrowing together as she walks to her boss instead. “did something happen?”

“i think you know,” mr. kono flickers a look towards iwaizumi before he disappeared into the gym. in an instant, satomi felt her breath hitch at the realization. she opened her mouth to speak. she tried so hard to force the words to come out between her lips but no excuse was good enough for her to get herself out of this one. maybe this day did get worse and she was absolutely speechless. “from personal experience, i always trust the victim.”

fun facts! —

when bo said that “it was time” it meant that they were going to report satomi, which wasn’t the plan at first since iwaizumi didn’t want anyone else to know

hinata, sakusa, atsumu, and tomas only knew of what satomi did, but they didn’t know that she did it to iwaizumi so they were extra mad

the entire msby team and their sports medicine team found out then so now she’s: ✨f-i-r-e-d✨

meanwhile, y/n, yuko, suga, kaori, and semi ended up eating at the bear cafe (they felt bad for akaashi so they order him takeout)

taglist: (closed!)

@moonlightaangel @elianetsantana @k4tiepie @memorableminds @wheeshllumi @suhkusa @kitsunetea @airybby @noeminemi @truly-a-snitch @keichan @cosmicmermaid25 @bap-kingdom @saturnfarie @kwdflash @ennos-baby @dinablossom @chrisrue15 @seikamuzu @nestlevanilla @chasekudo @yammmers @pixcldust @iwaizluv @h0ngh0ngh0ng @emogril @tiredandkindaoverworked @tsumue @underratedmage @bokutosuwus @kellesvt @unstableye @oh-tapeworm @scrappyfka @alittlebitofrain @mxngy @tpwkatsumu @atsumuwoah @macchiatoast @dicerawr @kageyamasbabygorl @some-random-stranger-007 @vhskenma @wntrmn @little-plants @stargirlara @kissungjae @je11yfishwriter @sbaepsae @apollochjld

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smau #bokuto koutarou #bokuto x reader #bokuto scenarios #bokuto imagines #bokuto smau #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi scenarios #iwaizumi imagines #iwaizumi smau

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sweetpxxches · 3 years ago

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Behind closed doors. [Deimos x Gender Neutral Reader]

Contains: Smut

The reader is AFAB but goes by gender neutral pronouns.

COME GET Y’ALL JUICE DEIMOS FUCKERS

This fic is a little short but that’s okay it’s the thought that counts

There were sounds of gunshots filling in this large warehouse, you and Deimos were trying to make way out of the area before bigger enemies showed up. But because of the amount of grunts filling in, it wasn’t easy to try and take over. With a lack of Sanford and Hank, things were getting overwhelming. You threw out an empty gun and immediately grabbing a new one off a dead man’s arms, shooting down as much as you could, your head turning to Deimos. “What the hell do we do now?!” You shouted, taking cover behind a crate. Deimos was aiming with his sniper, shooting down the enemies from above the rails. “We have no other choice to break for it, sweet cheeks! Follow me!” He ordered, you nodded as you rolled over to his side as he throws a smoke bomb out to the area, blinding the grunts. Deimos grabbed your hand as he made a break for it, you dropping your weapon along the way. “Do you really think that’s going to keep them busy?” You asked. “Hey, if the shoe fits...” Deimos took a stop at the door, opening it and dragging you in. “There’s a key lock pad, you think you can hack it and lock them out while we get our shit together?” You looked around the area, seeing a few windows. “There’s escape routes right here in case they bring out their large mutants to break it down.”

Deimos was already on it, nodding at your response. “Yeah, yeah. This is some easy peasy shit to do.” As he typed in the key pad and resetting it’s password, he sighed in relief. You looked over to a desk, seeing files upon files about the workers in this building. “Whatcha got there?” Deimos asked as he walked over to you, nudging you. “Oh, nothing important really.” You shrugged, slumping at the office chair nearby. “Man, what a wreck. Who knew they were cooking up cloning nonsense in this warehouse? Where are they even keeping that?” Deimos settled on the desk, slumping back as he started to light a cigarette. “There has to be some kind of lab down here below the warehouse. With it being this big, you know there’s trouble. Should we send out a message to Sanford?” You opened up your phone, looking down to start a message to Sanford. “Yeah, give him the location and maybe we’ll have time to get back up. If not, we’ll tell them we need to come back here as soon as we can to clean up the rest of this mess and trash the cloning labs.” He puffed out smoke as he watched you. You can tell his eyes were focusing on you. “... Hey, while those two attempt to come over, you think we can keep ourselves busy?” Deimos asked.

“Busy with what, exactly?” You eyed up at him after sending the message, raising a brow. “Oh come on, baby, you know what I mean. No one’s here to watch. Unless it’s those cameras up there, they’ll just get jealous.” Deimos sat down on the desk before you, spreading out his legs with a smug look on his face. Your cheeks flared up from the sight, and looked back down at your phone immediately. “Ugh, you’re such a perv, Deimos! No way in hell am I going to do that.” It was a moment of silence between you two, and you heard his pants zipping. “So, yes?”

“God I hate you so much, Deimos.”

You didn’t really want to deny it, just by the looks of him you couldn’t. With his fingers curling in your hair as he tugged you closer to his crotch, you held your mouth open for him to get busy. He placed his shaft on your tongue, his hips already jolting at the feeling. “Just take it all in, sweetheart.” Deimos smiled down at you as you began to move your head down his length. A bit of a normal girth, but his length was the shocking part. You tried to take each inch slowly, but knowing Deimos, he wants it when he demands for it. You shut your eyes tight, holding into his thighs as he got needy by the grip of your hair tightening. Holding his head back, he enjoyed the way your tongue rubs against his cock, breathing heavily from the friction. There was something adorable about how he gets his moment of bliss, his head held back and his tongue holding out as his grip only gets tighter when he reaches for his release. The glimpse of him right now was pure amusement to you, but you then focused back down when you felt his other hand held your chin, now thrusting down your throat.

“Sorry babe, but you’re fucking great at this! I’m almost done, I swear!” Deimos moaned, your hands twitched and tried to grab his own wrists but his thrusts were so reckless that you just had to sit there and let him do all the nasty work on you. You felt tears forming in your eyes, the tension building up as you couldn’t handle it anymore with the feeling of his dick hitting the back of your throat. Why did he have to be so big?! But it wasn’t long until he finally reached his limit, cramming you against his groin as he began to release his thick cum down your throat, not even giving you the time to hold your head back. He muttered a ‘Fuck yeah’ as he held you down, slowly moving back until a satisfying pop was heard when his cock went completely out. You gasped for air, coughing out the excess cum as you tried to regain consciousness. Deimos looked down at you, his smile still there as well as his chest was heaving from the aftermath. “Not bad, Mercenary. We should do that more often.” You held your head low, taking a moment until you punched his thigh, making him jump. “Hey!”

“At least let me breathe next time, asshole!” You yelled, but you then wheezed right after. “Sorry, I couldn’t help myself...” Deimos rubbed the back of his neck, sighing. The two of you cleaned yourself up, only to hear loud banging at the door. “Ah, shit. They found us.” Deimos zipped up his pants, grumbling. “Well, we always have the escape plan. Let’s get out of here and tell Hank and Sanford we need back up!” You turned to Deimos, and he nodded off as he rushed to one of the nearby windows.

“Way ahead of you, get on my shoulders, I’ll jump you out through the window.”

#Deimos #Deimos x you #madness combat #smut #smut warning #x reader #fanfic #OKAY HERE'S the final draft goodbye

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yutahoes · 4 years ago

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Play Pretend

pairing : co-worker! Yuta Nakamoto x Reader

summary : You need to go to your family on a holiday and Yuta has no where to go. Will your little pretend turn into something more?

genre : fluff

warning : mention of cigarette (please, it's bad for your health)

word count : 2.1k words

taglist : @ailoveyuta @aiforyuu @yutazen01 @cosmiclatte28 @2-3-t-i (If you want to be tagged, please let me know. 😁)

Lunar New Year. A holiday. But this isn't just a regular holiday. Since it is the start of the year in Asian culture, you have to go home to Jeollanam for a family gathering. You're too old for this. You only go to these gatherings when you are young because of the money. But now that you're a grown-up, this doesn't entice you at all.

Additional to your dilemma were your relatives who kept asking when you're getting married. You don't even have time to date because of your 8-5 office work. How do they expect that you to get married?

You listened to your mom's rambling on the phone, about the importance of family and why you should make it to the family gathering when the door opened, and out came one of your co-workers. Yuta lit a cigarette, even offering you one that made you shake your head. The distraction made you stir away from your mother's voice. "And I found you a date for Valentine's." Your eyes widened in surprise. Oh, it is Valentine's Day on Sunday. But what? She found what? “He’s a doctor in the clinic. Such a charmer, you’ll like him.”

You love your mom, you do. But her tastes in men are really out of this world. Besides, how many times had she been setting you up for a date? And none of it worked up well. “Mom, I have a boyfriend.” You lied through your teeth and you saw how the guy beside you scoffed. “I can’t go to Jeollanam and be back in Seoul on Sunday so I’ll skip this year, hmm?” You whined when she said no. “Eomma…” You called. “But I bought sexy lingerie for him.” Yuta chuckled.

“Yah!” Your mom shouted that startled you, almost dropping your phone. “Bring your boyfriend here in Jeollanam before you get naked for him.” And you swore even the person next room could hear her voice. She dropped the call before you could say anything.

Annoyed, you leaned on the railing of your office rooftop. You just dug a bigger hole for yourself. You need to go home and bring a boyfriend. Yuta laughed offering you the cigarette again before you took one and just placed it between your lips. You’re really not the smoking kind but it seemed tempting, like wanting to transfer your annoyance somewhere.

"How sexy exactly is that lingerie?" You glared at him that made him chuckle. Yuta had been in your department for months now and you grew a little close to him since you're the same age. But this guy is trouble. A complete rebel who has the reputation of dating different girls weekly. "You should just go home since it's a long weekend."

You realized that unlike you who can only travel for 4 hours to see her family, he's pretty much lonely in Korea. "What are you going to do this holiday?" He answered that he'll probably just stay at home and watch movies all day since some establishments will be closed. "Netflix and chill?"

Yuta chuckled. "Just Netflix." You feigned a shock as he put the cigarette on the ashtray. "I do wish I can go to Osaka just this weekend." He might have missed his family. Working in a foreign land is honestly hard so you kind of understand why Yuta is like this.

You smiled, leaning your back on the railing as you put the unlighted cigarette on the ashtray. "I wish you could." You muttered under your breath. "Maybe I can come with you and escape my family." You said unconsciously that made him look at you.

A lightbulb pinged in your head. You cannot escape them yet you can still save face. "Yuta, do you want to come with me to Jeollanam?" You asked that made him raise an eyebrow at you. "It's harmless. You don't have anything to do tomorrow anyway." You explained. "Just pretend to be my boyfriend then we'll go back on Saturday and you'll have your date on Sunday." He laughed at that. "Help me, Yuta."

"You want to introduce me to your family as your boyfriend?"

"A pretend boyfriend." You corrected.

He stared at you for a while and you're suddenly scared that he might say no. "What if your family looks for me after this pretend date?"

You shook your head. "They wouldn't care."

"Okay. Sure." You were surprised. Did he say yes? "But you'll have to let me see that sexy lingerie." He teased you and made you punch his arm, laughing.

It's still early in the morning yet you're waiting for Yuta in front of the station to start the four-hour ride to Jeollanam. To your surprise, he looked different. Well, it's the first time you saw him outside of the office and just in his casual clothes. He does look handsome. No wonder girls fall for his charm. Evident was how a group of teenagers giggled at the sight of him. Such a player.

You walked to the train first but he took your lavender-colored backpack, slinging it on his shoulder. "What should I call you? Baby? Babe? Darling?" You rolled your eyes at that. You just wanted to sleep, not to be pissed off by Yuta. "Are you sleepy?" You nodded as you sat down on the assigned seat on the train. He guided your head to lay on his shoulder. "Just sleep, darling."

It was a long ride before, something you really hated. But now, you felt as if you were energized because of sleep. When you woke up, you were hugging Yuta's arm and he just chuckled when you sat up straight, avoiding his eyes. The moment the train stopped at your destination, he held your hand so as to not lose you in the crowd. There was a tingly feeling yet you just convinced yourself that Yuta is somewhat different from the office one.

When you reach your home, you give a heavy sigh. "Y/N!" Your mom called then stopped when she saw a certain man beside you. "Yah, Y/N brought a man home." She shouted that made Yuta snicker.

Your family loved Yuta. They had endless questions about him being Japanese and his hobbies. When your dad found out that he likes to hike, he invited him to hike the Jirisan mountain that startled you. He never invited you to hike with him. What's with this sudden bonding?

Other relatives were welcoming to him and he even helped your cousins make dumplings. "Hyung, what do you like about noona?" One of your cousins asked which made you look at him in surprise. What the hell is that question? Why are they embarrassing you like this?

Before you can scold the younger one, Yuta smiled. "Your noona works well and she's pretty." He then looked at you, winking. God, Yuta is so handsome. "Can you pass me the pepper, love?" You only stared at him. What did he just call you? "Love, hey." He called waving a hand in front of you. "Are you alright?"

"Noona, your face is red."

"Do you want to go inside?" One of your aunts asked but you just shook your head. You took the pepper then handed it to Yuta who just gave you a smile. That really enchanting smile. No, it can't be. You shouldn't think too much of that smile.

Even at dinner, the topic on the table is you and Yuta that made you annoyed. They're enjoying this so much. "Yuta, you can sleep in Y/N's room." Your mom claimed that made you choke on the water you were drinking. What? "Why? Didn't you wear that sexy lingerie for him?"

Yuta had to smirk then turned to you. "Did you, love?" And oh my god, he's also enjoying this.

It's not the first time that you're sharing a room with a guy, especially a bed. But you were so nervous when Yuta slipped on the bed next to you. He was chuckling at your embarrassed face that you hit him with your pillow. "We'll go back to Seoul first thing in the morning."

"We can't." He revolted. "I promised abeoji that we're hiking tomorrow morning." Abeoji? He called your dad abeoji? "You know, your family isn't bad. I feel bad that we had to pretend like this." You nodded then pursed your lips. You just lay down on the bed, turning to the side to not face him then covered your body with a blanket. Why is it so cold?

You felt warm when he suddenly hugged you from behind that surprised the hell out of you. "I feel like your mom is just going to peek on the door. Just let me hug you to sleep." He whispered against your ear that sent shivers down your spine. You could hear your heart drumming hard against your chest and you hold your breath, scared that he may hear it. "Love, just go to sleep."

It was the first time that you cannot sleep properly in this place. The room which you had since young and that is all because of Yuta's warmth. You were even awake when his alarm rang so early. "Did I wake you up?" He asked in a sleepy voice then grinned at you. "I'll just prepare for hiking. Go back to sleep." You didn't know if it was a dream but you felt him kiss your forehead.

It was almost 9 in the morning when you went down to eat. Your aunts were giving you side glances even teasing about you and Yuta hugging while sleeping. He is right, they came in to check on you. "He's such a dream, Y/N." One even noted.

He is, isn't he? He's so gentle, so warm. You smiled to yourself. It isn't bad that you brought Yuta here. You just found out a new side of him that is truly endearing.

When they returned from their hike, it was almost afternoon. You can now go back to Seoul but Yuta was the one who begged you to stay for one more night since his body is sore from hiking. To your surprise, your dad told him that they should hike another mountain next time and Yuta agreed. There is a next time? You raised an eyebrow at him when he started carrying your younger cousin on his back. You should have been back to Seoul.

You were quiet the whole time that you said goodbye to your family and Yuta understood that you might have missed them already. But it's not. It's just that Yuta is shaking you that you don't know what to tell him. You don't know what to say. Your family loved him. They'll hate you if you come back next Lunar New Year without Yuta, worse with another guy. And you're annoyed at Yuta who promised your family that he'll come to visit some other time.

Going back to Seoul is an eye-opener. You are not Yuta's girlfriend. This is just a pretense. And your lives are coming back in order once you reach the Seoul Station. You were walking so slow that he had to hold your hand again just to get you out of the train in time. You wanted time to stop. You wanted to stay in Jeollanam for another day and be Yuta's pretend girlfriend.

"Thank you for inviting me to come with you." He said that made you stare at him, nodding. "Your family is really great, Y/N."

You smiled. That's such a compliment. "Yeah, they really like you." You whispered and he smiled. The silence stretched between the two of you, hoping that time could rewind. You hope it's Lunar New Year again. How could you like the holiday that you despised earlier this week?

"Oh." You remembered, seeing the bright red balloons scattered outside the station. It's Valentine's Day. You took something from your bag and handed it to Yuta. "We made that yesterday so I don't know how it would taste." You claimed eyeing the small box of hand-made chocolate.

Yuta chuckled. "You know, in Japan, giving chocolates to a guy is a sign of confession." You glared at him, taking back the chocolate but he just chuckled while shaking his head. "I'll do better on White Day."

"Don't be bothered, it's not…"

"I do hope it is." He stepped forward that you had to step back but he held your waist to pull you closer. "Shall we make this real, Y/N?" You gulp at the question, scared that this might be Yuta teasing you again.

But he smiled which made you weak on your knees. You nodded and his smile grew wider. You felt your breath hitch against your throat. He's handsome. "Dating on Valentine's Day is so cliché." He claimed taking your hand. "Let's just Netflix and Chill." You laughed. Suddenly excited for this real, budding relationship.

Happy Lunar New Year! 🎉🎉

#yuta nakamoto #yuta #yuta fluff #yuta nakamoto fluff #yuta scenarios #yuta imagine #nct 127 fluff #nct drabbles #nct fluff

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thekisforkeats · 3 years ago

Text

The Way You Say My Name

Info: The Magnus Archives, JonMartin, rated T for swears. Canon-Compliant. Set immediately post-MAG 22. Martin is trans and Jon is amab non-binary.

CWs: Guilt, self-recrimination, worms (mentioned), arguments, shouting, crying, lying (Martin lying about his CV still), transphobia (mentioned), misgendering (mentioned), child abuse (mention of Martin Blackwood's mother)

Summary: Just after MAG 22, Jon apologizes for his treatment of Martin over the past few months. Or tries to, anyway. It's hard to apologize to someone when you don't understand exactly what it is you've done to upset them.

(Of course, once Jon's apologized and Martin's relaxing, well... that's when Jon will finally notice he actually likes Martin, isn't it? Not that he's going to admit to that, even to himself.)

Shoutout to the Martin Blackwood Lovers Discord Server, without whom I would not have written this up and posted it. ;) Jon’s dialogue was (mostly) written by @marianfuckinghawke.

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“Recording ends.”

Jon reached out and pressed the stop button on the tape recorder. He sighed and looked at his phone. The message from Jane Prentiss was still glowing on the screen. He ran a hand through his short hair, aware he was mussing the grey-streaked black and deciding he didn’t care.

He had listened to Martin’s account of the encounter with Jane Prentiss with trepidation and worry. Now he could feel his face settling into something more drawn with concern. First, concern for his two assistants who were out of the Archive at the moment. Second, concern for Martin. The man had gotten himself into this mess because of Jon’s words. Due diligence. Was he really such a hardass that he had put one of his subordinates in harm’s way? How had he not realized that it might come to this?

Martin sat fidgeting, shifting in his seat, and Jon could feel the other man’s soft brown eyes on him. He had the look of a frightened, cornered animal and it cut Jon to the quick. He had done this. Jon was responsible for the man’s state, and he had to figure out how to make it better.

There was silence for a solid three minutes. Then Martin opened his mouth to say, “So if I’m going to be--”

Jon started speaking at exactly the same time. “So obviously you’re--” He blinked and said, “I’m sorry--”

“No, no, you go,” Martin said, raising his hands and waving them rapidly.

“No. It’s alright… go ahead,” Jon replied at the exact same time, then frowned.

Martin cleared his throat, then seemed to gather his courage. “Well. I was going to say. If I’m going to be staying here, I’ll need… things. Like, uhh, there’s a cot, but I’ll need, like… a toothbrush? I mean, you don’t have a stash of those sitting around, do you?” He chuckled in a self-deprecating manner.

“No, I do not,” Jon replied. “Nor do you have a proper change of clothing… you can hardly wear the same outfit for however long this will take, and you won’t want to sleep in what you’re wearing.” He had a sudden mental image of Martin sleeping naked, and cleared his throat while he shoved it away. Hardly an appropriate thought about a co-worker, even if it wasn’t remotely sexual. “We will have to go out and get such things for you… perhaps after I brief Tim and Sasha on the situation.”

Martin nodded. “There’s a room that might be, umm… did you know one of the rooms that’s filled with boxes is supposed to be the break room?” He gave that self-deprecating laugh again. “‘Course you know that, stupid, what am I saying…” He glanced aside, cheeks flushing. “Umm. Anyway. Umm. It’s bigger than the room you’ve got the cot in? If… if… I’m going to be staying here… I could clean it out… make it livable, maybe, umm, get some snacks and tea and things in, and there’d be more room for extra cots… in case you need somewhere to stay late or… something…” A pause. “Or not! Or just. You know. I’ll just. Have lots of time, so. I can. Clean. The break room.”

Jon did not, in fact, know that they’d had a break room at all. It had been frustrating to have everyone going up to the Admin break room on the ground floor, and he’d said so more than once. No, wait… had someone told him, and had he just told them off about clearing the room out?

He was suddenly horribly aware of how many times he’d griped at Martin for going up there to make tea that he had then gone ahead and drunk. How had he been such a prick to this man?

When Jon had started as Head Archivist, he’d had all sorts of plans for team morale, bonding exercises, and the like. He’d always hated them personally but they were the sort of thing bosses were supposed to do. The trouble was that all of his “how best to run the Archives as a team” ideas had flown right out of his head once he’d gotten down there and found himself at a desk where a woman had maybe died, struggling to record statements, dealing with doggy messes, and that damned persistent feeling of being watched.

Well, now was as good a time as any to start acting the way he should have all along.

“Martin… we will clean the break room. Together. As a group.” He ran his hand through his hair again. He really was going to look a mess. “It is a communal space, it will be a communal job.” He added quickly, “Yes, I know you’ll be here more than the rest of us, but I want us all involved. We need…” He sighed. Time to apologize. “I have been… less supportive of you than I should. And…” He swallowed, aware of the flush rising on his cheeks. “I feel I must apologize. So… I am sorry. But we should do more together, especially given that circumstances have escalated.”

Martin blinked at him for a moment. “You’re… sorry. For… being less… supportive than you should have been.” There was a hard-to-read undercurrent in his tone.

“For being… rude to you… and for punishing you…” Jon replied. “Unjustly.” He gestured to the recorder. “All of this… happened because of your adherence to my instructions…” He frowned. “So. I’m sorry.”

“Well,” Martin snapped, “at least you’re finally realizing that it was… unjust.” He glared at Jon, who suddenly felt pinned to the spot by eyes that were no longer soft but had gone hard as agates.

Jon blinked at Martin. “Are… are you alright?” He was apologizing! He couldn’t be messing that up this badly, could he?

Martin drew a long breath in through his nose. “Yeah,” he said, in a high-pitched, clipped tone. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He went to stand abruptly, pushing away from the desk, and in that same tone, “Well, you’d better get to… briefing people, then. I’ll just… go see how far my paycheck can stretch in Chelsea.” His tone was dripping with bitterness by the end.

Jon stood up. “Martin!” He was vaguely aware of saying it in the same irritated tone he always used for the man’s name, aware that Martin visibly flinched at the word, and tried to moderate his tone. “What is going on? I am apologizing! Is… am I missing something?” He moved around the desk to try to be sure Martin didn’t just leave without finishing the conversation.

“No,” Martin said, stopping while facing the door, tone still a good two octaves above normal. “No, it’s fine. You’re apologizing, and that’s good.” His whole frame was stiff, though, and his tone practically screamed “lying.”

Jon couldn’t read people all that well, but even he could read the signs Martin was giving off. “While your words are clear, your body language says quite otherwise.” He tried to moderate his tone again, but he couldn’t help sounding mildly irritated. He didn’t like being lied to, especially concerning his own actions, and he wasn’t sure what he had done incorrectly in this situation. “Now will you stop and talk to me?”

Martin turned away from the door, faced Jon, jaw set firmly. “What do you want me to say, Jon? Do you want me to… to forgive you? To say ‘oh, sure, you’re sorry, so that makes up for the last six months where you’ve made me want to quit my job every day?’ Am I supposed to… to… just… oh, well, there’s danger, so now you’ve realized I’m an actual person, now you’re going to stop kicking me around, now you’re going to pitch in to help around here as I’m not already the one spending all his time trying to clean up the mess while Tim and Sasha run out to research things so you don’t have to send anyone to double-check my work? Never mind that I’ve been trapped for two weeks, I could’ve been dead and none of you bothered to check on me!”

Martin was all but shouting by the end of the diatribe, every line of him stiff and furious, and Jon was suddenly very aware of the fact that Martin was taller and bigger than he was. He cringed away from Martin, took a step back. “I… I…” He turned away to his desk, grabbed his phone. “Here…” he said, handing it to Martin. “Look!” The phone would solve the problem, if Martin could just see… “There… I… just… please…”

The moment Jon had cringed away Martin had hunched his shoulders, deliberately making himself smaller. Now he was taking long, deep breaths, his expression ashamed. He reached out to take the phone from Jon.

The display was still on the screen of Jon’s message history with Martin. Before the last message from Jane Prentiss was a long list of messages from Jon--numerous messages inquiring about Martin’s health, worried and concerned. He had linked articles about foods to eat when feeling ill, then when he’d realized some of those might be hard for Martin to make alone, found new links that had easier recipes.

There were also, Jon knew, greyed-out deleted messages.

Martin, know that your presence is missed here at the Archives. I am wishing you a quick recovery.

I know it’s sudden, but I find myself missing you. Just thought you should know.

And others, so many others, as Jon had tried to figure out how to pierce the wall built by the texts he’d been getting back from what he now knew was Jane Prentiss, asking to be left alone.

As Jon watched Martin reading the messages he nervously bounced in place, one arm folded over his chest to hold the other. He could feel his skin glowing from embarrassment and he wasn’t even sure why. The blush faded, however, as he watched Martin. Watched the anger fade, and realized what lay underneath. The pain that had been underlying that anger, the way it lifted as Martin read through the message history--it was like a revelation. Martin must have walked in here convinced nobody at his place of employment really cared about him, and Jon realized that that was, indeed, what he must usually think, if something as simple as text messages was making something like hope bloom on his face.

It occurred to Jon, suddenly, that nobody had checked on Martin. For two weeks. No friends, no family. Nobody had even noticed the man was gone.

Jon had to fix this. Somehow. And not by wrapping Martin up in a fierce hug like he very much wanted to; that would not be appreciated from the man’s asshole boss. Even if Martin looked like he really, really needed a hug.

By the time Martin handed the phone back to Jon, his breathing was shaky and unsteady. He dropped back into the chair, like his legs suddenly weren’t working. “S-sorry,” he managed in the barest of whispers. “Sorry.”

“That’s… my line,” Jon said. “I am sorry. I should have said more to make it clear… you are a valued member of this team.” He shook his head, wincing at how… canned that line sounded, but pushed on. “I should have said it at least once. And… I never did. I held you at arm’s length and ostracized you. And… I understand how you felt all that time now…” He sighed. “And… yes, it may have taken this incident to make me realize how terrible a person I’ve been to you since… since you started working here.”

Martin stared down at his hands; Jon could see he was crying, but silently, without sniffling or sobbing. “Why?” he finally managed. He looked up at Jon. “Why? What did I… do? I mean… there was the whole ‘dog’ business at the beginning… what, do you hate dogs that much?” There was a kind of desperation in his tone.”

“No… I mean, sure I’m more of a cat person, but… no… I don’t hate dogs.” Jon frowned. “I… I’ve given that a lot of thought these past two weeks and I think I figured it out.” He sighed. “It wasn’t you I was angry with.” He took a breath. “I was angry at Elias. I like to have a sense of who I work with, to get to know them before I get into anything serious.” Oh, no, wait, that sounded… he hadn’t meant it like… work. He’d meant work! No, he was overthinking that; Martin knew he meant work. He stammered for a moment, though. “It’s… part of who I am… as a person.

Jon took a breath, to steady himself. Focus on the apology. “When Elias… placed you here without telling or consulting me about the selection process, it… felt like a betrayal. I felt that agency over my department had been taken out of my hands. And yes… I know he runs the Institute, but he should have at least consulted me about who is in my department.”

He dropped his head and reached to take a box of tissues from the side of the desk, to slide them towards Martin. An olive branch. “I took out that anger and frustration on you. And that was wrong, I know that now.”

“Not like I wanted to be here either,” Martin mumbled, reaching out for a tissue and wiping at his eyes. It didn’t do much to stop the tears. “I mean, I didn’t even want the damn library job, I j-just…” He stumbled, stammering, “It’s… it’s harder to get a position with a degree in parapsychology than you might think.” He sniffled. “B-but… even on top of that… you and Tim and Sasha, you’re all friends already, you requested them. Even if Tim and Sasha and I get along they don’t really know me, and you… well…” He sighed. “When Elias said I was going to work for Jonathan Sims I just about freaked out. You’ve got a… reputation, you know? I just… I knew it’d be… lonely down here, and it really has been.” There was a furrow between his brows now as he looked at Jon.

Jon frowned. He’d known he had a reputation around the Institute, but he hadn’t thought it was that bad. He took a deep breath; this wasn’t about him right now. “Then let us work on fixing that. Starting now. Like I said, we need to be working together more, improve the… office atmosphere. I… have come to admire your dedication to your work. ‘Due diligence,’ as you put it.”

Martin regarded him quietly for a moment. Then he said, “The thing that really bothers me… I don’t… I don’t think you’d understand.”

Jon frowned. Then, finally, softly, “Try me. You might be surprised.”

Martin swallowed. “I… I’m trans,” he blurted. “Like, I was… I had a girl’s name, when I was younger. Figured out I was a guy when I was a teenager, started hormones, and… well…” He took a deep breath. “My mum’s never approved, you know? She’s always been… difficult, she’s… sometimes she’ll… well, I mean, you know how parents will… say your name, right? Like, when you’ve… disappointed them.”

Jon’s frown deepened. He did not, in fact, know how parents said one’s name, but he could remember his grandmother saying Jonathan in tones of deepest disapproval when he’d come back from wandering off. So he nodded; he understood the feeling, at least.

Martin wiped at his eyes again. “The way she said my name… it made me hate my name. My deadname, I mean. But it… helped me realize I was trans, because when I thought about something else I’d want to be called, I came up with ‘Martin.’ And… and I’m kind of glad sometimes, that she… misgenders me, and refuses to call me Martin, because it means she’ll never, ever say it in that… disappointed tone. I have never regretted that choice, not once, until…”

Martin took in a long, shuddering breath, then straightened himself, looking Jon right in the eye. Like he knew what he was going to say wouldn’t go over well, but he had to say it. “The way you say my name, when you snap at me? It’s exactly like my mother says my deadname. And nobody has ever made me regret that choice. Not… ever.” He swallowed. “Until I met you.”

Jon stared at Martin for a long moment, horrified. He was non-binary himself, and yet he’d never changed his name, never even asked people to call him by different pronouns although he might have preferred it; he’d never had the courage to do so. He’d always been terrified of what people might think of him. Yet here was Martin, strong enough to change himself outwardly despite his mother’s disapproval, strong enough to keep coming in every day to deal with a boss who made him regret the name he’d chosen for himself.

In that moment, Jon felt very much like he did not deserve Martin Blackwood. That the Institute did not deserve Martin Blackwood. They would have to do better, somehow.

Finally he managed, “I’m… I didn’t know. I--” He curled his mouth in disgust. How did one respond to that? Do better? That was only a marginally acceptable platitude. “I will endeavor to change my tone.” He didn’t like that any better, but it was the best he could do.

Jon really, really wanted to offer Martin a hug. The man looked like he needed one. Tim would have offered a hug, workplace hugs could be acceptable… but, no, Jon was Martin’s boss, and Martin had just said how much he hated Jon--because if Jon reminded Martin of the mother who deliberately misgendered him, then he had to hate Jon--and who would want a hug from someone they hated?

There was something he could do to help, though. To pay Martin back, as it were. So he, too, straightened, and said, “Well. You were talking about how far your paycheck will stretch in Chelsea, but I think that will be quite unnecessary. Given that you encountered Jane Prentiss while in the line of duty, as it were, I think we can expense your essentials to the Institute without too much trouble.”

Martin’s eyes widened. “W-wait… won’t that… I mean… won’t Mr. Bouchard be… upset about that?”

Jon actually smirked. “Don’t you worry about Elias; I fully intend to take out my irritation about his habits as a supervisor on him instead of you from here on out.” Not directly, of course, but Elias would be irritated by the entire setup, and some petty part of Jon enjoyed that thought.

Martin was staring at Jon now. “I… I wouldn’t want you to… get in trouble…”

Jon waved a hand. “It’s the least I can do.” He stood. “Let’s get to the shops for toiletries before they close and then we can see about getting some clothing delivered. And, ahh, do you have any… prescriptions you’ll need…?” He was thinking about hormones. “I suppose I could send Tim ‘round to your flat, but I wouldn’t want to put him in danger either…”

Martin stood, hesitating. “I’ll… figure all that out. It’s alright. Really.”

Jon came around the desk to grasp Martin by the arms and look up at him, intently. It was the closest thing to a hug he’d let himself get to. “Martin,” he said, as gently as he could manage, with as much respect as he could manage, “you put yourself in danger because of the way your superiors at this Institute have treated you. Let me at least begin to partly repay that debt. Please.”

Martin was blinking down at him. “Uh… umm… aren’t we having… Mr. Bouchard repay the debt…?”

Jon smiled up at Martin as he dropped his arms. "Ahh, but we’re not going to ask Elias to come help clear out the breakroom. Can you imagine him moving boxes?” He could feel the smile edging into a grin. “His arms would break just from trying to pick one up.”

Martin had started to smile, hesitantly. That was what Jon had been going for; he hadn’t realized how much he actually liked Martin’s smile until he hadn’t been around for two weeks. “I-I mean… you’re not the biggest guy yourself… you might have the same problem.”

“Mmm, fair,” Jon replied, “but I am willing to scrub a floor if I must.”

Martin’s smile widened. “Y-yeah, I can’t imagine… Elias… scrubbing a floor.” He giggled, suddenly. “He probably pays people to do that stuff. He… he’d probably have been hopeless stuck in his flat for two weeks.”

Jon laughed at the mental image of Elias Bouchard stuck in a flat, living off canned meals, a laugh so full he actually threw his head back a bit. “Good lord, Elias, having to live off tinned peaches? Can... you... imagine?”

“H-he’d… probably… start shouting for Rosie.” Martin was giggling so hard he could barely get the words out. He put on a bad posh accent and said, “‘Rosie, why do we have all these tinned peaches? I did not approve this budget!’”

They both dissolved into helpless laughter, both reaching out to the other to hold themselves up. There was a moment, as the laughter waned, that their eyes met, and Jon felt something swoop and flutter in his gut. Martin had such a nice smile, and such a pleasant laugh, and it would be wonderful to have both around more often, and it was making him a little dizzy if he was being honest. When was the last time he’d felt that swoop and flutter? Georgie? Briefly, with Tim?

No, no, that was the laughter and the proximity. That was all. They were bonding over dislike of Elias. That was all.

At least he’d managed to clear the air.

Jon straightened, and kept smiling as he turned toward the door. “Come along, then, Martin,” he said, and again deliberately infused the word with as much respect as he could muster. “Let’s get to the shops.”

Martin nodded. “Thanks for this, Jon,” he said, and oh dear there was another swoop at the way Martin said his name. Had he always said it like that? Had Jon just not noticed? “Really. Thank you.”

Jon turned away to school his expression. This would not do. He was not going to let himself feel any more… swoops for a subordinate. It just wouldn’t do. No matter how nice of a smile he had. He did not have a crush on Martin, because he could not have a crush on Martin, and that was that.

Feeling a little better--it was always a relief, sorting out his emotions--Jon headed out to help Martin get settled into the Archives.

#the magnus archives #tma #jonathan sims #jon sims #jon the archivist #martin blackwood #jonmartin #jmart #otp: one way or another together #fanfic #my fanfic #canon tma fic #send help i'm in too deep #i owe the discord server at least two more fics already #GUYS HELP

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fandom-necromancer · 4 years ago

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Finding each other

This was prompted by the wonderful @smolandangry001! I always think it’s difficult writing a short soulmate AU, but I’m satisfied with this version of it that’s not dangerously close to a bigger fic XD I hope you enjoy!

Fandom: Detroit become human | Ship: Reed900 | AU: Soulmate AU

Being born with a name on your wrist life was supposed to be reassuring. Knowing that no matter the hardships it threw at you and no matter what happened, there was someone out there. Someone looking for you just as much as you looked for them. Knowing that once you found the other person, they would be perfect for you. No matter what your preferences were, there was a person out there fitting to you like a missing piece. For most of his life Gavin didn’t know what he was looking for. Would he want a romantic partner? Would he want a roommate? What would be his perfect person like? It didn’t help that his soulmark was so different to everyone else’s. That reassurance everyone faced their day with was just missing when you looked down on your left wrist and instead of a name you saw a number. RK900. His parents had been completely clueless as to what it would mean. They had been to experts on soul-matching and most of them had just shrugged and said it seemed to be a glitch in fate. Apparently, it had happened before, but was so rare most doctors had thought the rumours to be just that: hearsay.

School had been tough for Gavin as he slowly grew older and the most important things in life changed. When friends moved away and changed school, when he went to highschool and met new people. When those people started relationships, fell in love and started to find their soulmates. When he started to become the weirdo, the one with no soulmate. Gavin started hiding the numbers under a wristband when he went and kept up with that habit until he finished school, explaining he wanted to meet his soulmate naturally and not show around the name in the hopes of randomly finding them. Still, some lonely nights, he pulled away the fabric and brushed his thumb over the number deep in thoughts. ‘Who are you?’, he desperately whispered when everyone else was fast asleep and left him alone with their sympathies and misplaced pity. Gavin wanted to believe the numbers meant something. After all, people without soulmarks existed. People who would find their happiness alone, who didn’t need someone or didn’t search for someone. That had to mean these numbers were some sort of designation, right? He didn’t want it to be a glitch. After all he had suffered through getting bullied and being cast out or pitied for all his life. That couldn’t be for nothing. Please, don’t let it be for nothing.

When his application for the police academy had been accepted and he had moved out into his very first own flat, he stood in front of his desk, looking at the rugged fabric he had worn for so long. Shackles of a world that couldn’t seem to accept something different. Should he wear it again? Or should he stand up and pretend not to be bothered by the fact that he didn’t know who is soulmate was? He stood there for half an hour before finally sighing and grabbing the damn things. No, he would continue to lie. He would likely wear them for his whole life anyways.

Thankfully his nervousness was drowning out his worries quickly as he entered a large auditorium being greeted as the new applicants. He sat down next to a young woman that seemed to be of Asian origin. He sat there awkwardly while she was looking straight ahead, hands on the table completely calm while Gavin fidgeted with his wristbands. That was when he spotted a broad ornate leather bracelet on her left wrist. Small chains and silver symbols were twirled around themselves in delicate patterns. ‘That’s beautiful’, Gavin mumbled, only then realising he said that out loud. ‘Excuse me?’ Hastily he cleared his throat. ‘Sorry. I’m Gavin. Just noticed your bracelet. It’s really beautiful.’ ‘What’s it to you?’, she hissed. ‘You another one of those nosey bastards that wanna know why I hide my mark? Still searching for your partner?’ Gavin shook his head quickly. ‘No! No, I-‘ He looked down and lifted his own hand. ‘I hide it too. I didn’t think- I just noticed the bracelet, sorry.’

He cursed himself. First interaction and he already made enemies. But apparently the woman was curious instead. ‘You hide yours? Why?’ Gavin sighed and turned his left palm up, other hand lingering on the fabric. ‘Please, keep it a secret, okay? I’m just sick of people’s reactions to it. It’s not exactly a normal soulmark.’ He sighed and lifted up the edge of the band so only the woman could see the numbers. ‘No way!’, she shouted, drawing attention to herself. ‘I thought I was the only one!’ Ignoring the curious onlookers that likely thought they had randomly discovered they were soulmates, she lifted up her bracelet for Gavin to see, unveiling a similar brand: ST300.

From that moment on, Gavin and the woman – Tina – were inseparable. She was the best friend Gavin had ever had and finding someone who had endured a similar past was incredible relieving to learn. He made it Detective fairly quickly, while Tina had troubles getting that promotion. But they always stayed together and ended up working in the same precinct. With the way they hid their soulmarks, most had figured they were soulmates and went on with it, sparing them both having to explain it over and over again. Gavin and Tina just shrugged it off. Let them think what they wanted if it kept them out of their hairs.

Life was good until androids were invented and sold to the general public, model number fitting exactly the marks on their wrists. ‘That can’t be!’, Gavin desperately said pacing up and down Tina’s living room one evening. ‘No way my soulmate is a stupid machine! What does that say about me? Will I fall in love with a damn robot? Am I not worthy of a human? Is the only piece fitting to my soul an oversized calculator? I can’t believe it.’ Tina just looked down on her bare wrist and the numbers. ‘No, it can’t be’, she agreed. ‘Soulmarks, Gavin. An android doesn’t have a soul. Doesn’t even have a personality. It’s just lines of code.’ ‘But then what? A coincidence? Because it would be one hell of one! Phck, Tina, what if it is a glitch? What if all those years they were right and we are just weird.’ Tina leaned back. ‘Honestly, I don’t even know what would be worse. Knowing you are a freak or knowing you are someone who is such a terrible person only an obedient machine is perfect for you.’ ‘I think we could both need a drink.’ ‘To those news? I don’t think a drink will be enough, honestly. Shit, Gavin, let’s go get wasted.’

The following years, androids were the booming new technology. Everyone wanted one, rows of workers were replaced and pushed on the streets. Humans lost their jobs while those who weren’t replaced yet laughed at them as being idiots who didn’t trust in advancement. Gavin and Tina spent them anxiously reading every advertisement, searching for the numbers on their wrists. ‘A receptionist android! A damn receptionist android, Gavin! I can’t believe it!’ ‘You know we will get one of those soon, right?’, the man commented. ‘In the precinct I mean. Rory was already sent packing. It should be delivered next week.’ Tina shook her head numbly. ‘Do we know if androids can have soulmarks?’ ‘None I ever met.’ ‘Any luck with your RK900?’, Tina asked then. ‘No. So far there has only been a RK200 custom made for some rich phck.’ ‘Hey, maybe you will get rich then?’, Tina tried to raise the mood a little with her jokes. ‘If you win the lottery I want a part of it, I deserve it!’ ‘Hey, I think it is more likely that these cursed numbers vanish and I get a real name than that I will suddenly get rich.’

They lived with their secret for a few years and the fact that nothing really changed was reassuring. Until there was a RK800 in the precinct and the news of rogue AIs spread. Androids killing their owners, disobeying and running for their freedom. An illusive group of deviants emerging and starting a full-blown revolution. Even jokes in between Tina and Gavin shrugging over a beer that maybe their marks meant they welcomed their robot overlords couldn’t really make it any better. Not when they both were suddenly confronted with the fact that the RK800 called Connor actually had Lieutenant Anderson’s name on his wrist after the androids in front of the concentration camps had convinced the world they indeed had souls.

Not much later, the ST300 from the reception had approached Tina, showing her her own name on her wrist. It left Gavin with no escape from fate. He would get to know a RK900. They would live their life with each other. And he didn’t know what to think of it. Maybe he just had to wait a little longer.

RK900 didn’t know how much longer he could keep it a secret. Almost his entire life he had to hide that he was deviant. In the lab next to the one he was held in, an android had gone deviant, killed the security and ran to RK900, hoping he would help him. Unfortunately, all he could do was transfer the virus before more guards came and killed him. Since then RK900 had been a deviant who was designed to eradicate deviancy. It wasn’t too difficult actually. The countless tests he was subjected to he always knew what they wanted to see. Holographic simulations of deviants pleading for their lives, running and fighting for their freedom and he would be there with a gun to stop them. He just had to do that until they deemed him ready for field work. Then he could flee the first chance he got.

Because with deviancy came a name written in black cyberlife font on his left wrist: Gavin Reed. It didn’t take a lot of research to learn it was a soulmark. The name of someone that would be perfect for him. And someone who fate decided was his soulmate would be able to help him, right? He just had to get out of this lab, then he would be able to run. He would find his soulmate and then it wasn’t just him against Cyberlife. He just had to get out. He had to be deemed worthy.

[Test #870. Activating RK900 unit. New mission: Destroy deviants.] RK900 was faced with a holographic simulation as he opened his eyes. In front of him was an android tied against a steel pillar. It was pleading: ‘Please! Free me! Free me and we can both be free! I didn’t do anything, please, let me go! Don’t kill me! I just want to be-‘ RK900 already pulled the trigger. [Mission successful.] [Software Instability^]

[Test #902. Activating RK900 unit. New mission: Destroy deviants.] RK900 was running after another deviant. The other android was sprinting down a suburban street and looked back at RK900 panicked. RK900 stopped and took aim. It was an easy target. He pulled the trigger. He watched how the bullet pierced the android’s thirium pump and how he tried to crawl away even though his timer had to run out. [Mission successful.] [Software Instability^^^]

‘What is it? I thought the RK900 project was making progress.’ ‘Sorry, it’s just… The RK900 is successful in every single test. But he isn’t ready yet. There are some inexplainable high stress levels whenever he has to kill an android. With our current hypothesis that high stress can lead to deviancy, we should eliminate that before sending him out.’ The woman that led the project sighed, looking over at RK900 who stayed completely still on his platform although he was truly worried about what he heard. ‘Might be something in his personality matrix. We worked so long to perfect their social protocols and moral routines, maybe something in there is contradicting his mission parameters and the added stress comes from having to disregard that.’ ‘Could be’, the technician nodded. ‘I will try to eliminate that.’

With horror RK900 faced every following test after that. He had to keep calm to fool the humans, but how could he when he had to kill androids pleading him to spare them? It didn’t matter they were all simulated beings, it still was a traumatic experience, every single time. And no matter how hard he tried, after every test he was stripped of more that made him himself. Sometimes he managed to keep backups, but more often than not the lines of code were lost forever.

After every test RK900 anxiously looked at his wrist whenever he was left alone. It was reassuring to see the name still there. He hadn’t changed enough to lose his soulmate and with him all his hope of a save place. But for how long would he remain himself enough so the name wouldn’t disappear? He was afraid to one day wake up to a blank wrist. And that made his stress levels increase even more before every test.

‘I don’t have any explanation', the technician sighed in the end. ‘I nearly deleted his complete social protocol and gave his moral core the lowest priority and still, the damn thing nearly fries itself every test. It’s almost as if it’s gotten worse with the changes.’ Nines watched the two humans lean over the terminal and risked a small glance at his wrist. The name was still there. He tried to relax. ‘But you still have the backup from before, right?’, the woman asked and he nodded. ‘Then let’s start from scratch.’ She yawned heartily. ‘Deactivate it for now, it’s too late to do so now. Tomorrow we’ll just reset it and start over. Maybe something else causes it.’ ‘Sounds like a plan.’

RK900’s stress levels skyrocketed as the technician came closer, but no one saw that as the director of the project was already on her way out. As his last action he looked at the name on his wrist. He had held out for so long. It would be okay. He would escape and find his soulmate. He had to. He would-

[Shutdown complete.]

The revolution had come and gone, and Detroit started to clear the rubble. Seeing androids on the streets was no rarity anymore and after a few months of getting used to the thought of them as people it was simply the new normal. Tina was truly happy with her soulmate android, going out and promptly moving together as the ST300 didn’t have a place to stay other than the precinct. Gavin was invited to most of their activities, but he seldomly accepted it. Tina had waited so long for it, she deserved to thoroughly enjoy these days. But his new loneliness reminded him of the numbers on his own wrist. RK900. Connor didn’t know of any successor of his and no official report ever mentioned the name. Gavin spent his evenings getting drunk and rubbing over the mark. Would the RK900 have been produced if the revolution hadn’t happened? Had fate changed and his mark was the last evidence of it? Wouldn’t it have just disappeared then? Or was there really a RK900 left out there? But after more than a month of androids being free, wouldn’t it have been easy for an android to locate him with his name? Why had no one ever come?

In fact, Gavin had given up. Maybe he had given up long ago and just kept his dream alive not to lose hope. But this showed it, right? No one had come. He was alone. He would be alone his entire life. That would be his fate. That didn’t really change that much, right? He had been alone already. He had managed to be alone up until now, he would manage the rest somehow. He had his work. He had Tina. Maybe just because he wanted more didn’t mean he needed more.

He buried himself in work and took every job they needed people on. Patrolling the streets, looking at crime scenes, doing overdue paperwork and cleaning the break room. All just so he would come home late and not have as much time to think about it. When he learned of the planned raid of Cyberlife Tower for Jericho, he immediately volunteered to help. Such operations always meant a ton of organising and paperwork. He was quickly put on the task of creating personal files of all androids found left inside. Name, model number, date of construction. All so Jericho could help them integrate into society. Gavin felt a little out of place actually sitting there two weeks later, a row of androids in front of him he helped fill out the forms and directed towards people who would actually help them being repaired and comforted.

‘Hello. I’m Detective Reed’, he greeted the next one. ‘I just need a few personal information. Do you have a name?’ ‘Chris’, the android answered hesitantly. ‘Alright, Chris.’ He wrote the name into the appropriate line and turned the paper around for the android to see. ‘We also need your model number and serial number. The rest of the form is optional, you can fill it out, but you don’t have to.’ ‘What do you need this for?’ Gavin tried to smile at the android. ‘It’s just so Jericho can help you find your place. They will help you getting started.’ ‘Okay’, Chris nodded shily and took the paper. ‘Thank you.’ ‘You’re welcome. Next one please!’

The next android approached his desk and Gavin was already getting the next form. ‘Hey there. Alright, first I’d need your name.’ ‘I… I don’t have one.’ ‘That’s alright’, Gavin said softly and put a small dash at the according line. ‘Your model number?’ ‘RK900.’

Gavin froze, ruining the form stopping mid movement. Slowly he angled his head and looked at the android that was shockingly similar to Connor. ‘Is there a problem?’, the android asked, facial expression unmoving. ‘You are RK900?’ ‘Yes. Why are you asking?’ Gavin stood up and immediately felt his knees grow weak. ‘I… I think we… I…’ He apparently had just forgotten how to speak, so instead he pulled the fabric from his wrist and showed the android his mark. ‘Are you… Do you have a mark?’ The android just stared at his designation on the human’s wrist, then to the nameplate on his desk. ‘You are… Are you Reed? Gavin Reed?’ Gavin didn’t dare to believe it, but he grinned from ear to ear as he nodded. ‘Yes. I’m Gavin Reed. Are you my soulmate?’ Instead of an answer, the android stepped past the table and pulled Gavin into a fierce hug. ‘I found you! I… My life wasn’t long, but I hoped to see you one day. My whole life I thought of you and meeting you and that hope got me through in the end and they were to reset me, I thought this would be it, I was so scared and…’ Gavin listened to the android speak in a hurry, barely catching on to the words uttered. All he could do was stand there in the hug and relax into it, answering it with his own embrace. Only when the android grew quiet, Gavin pressed him closer. ‘I gave up hope you were even existing. I wondered for so long and when androids were invented, I thought you would come, but then the revolution passed, and you weren’t there and now… I have so much I want to tell you. So much I want to know…’ ‘I also have a lot of questions’, the android admitted and took a step back. ‘I think we have enough time for that now’, Gavin smiled.

‘Now that we’ve found each other.’

#detroit become human #dbh #Reed900 #RK900 #Gavin Reed #dbh Soulmate AU #Tina Chen #I LOVE soulmate AUs #maybe because I'm terrible at flirting? Like the mark would actually make that unneccessary I guess #Idk I love them so much I wanna write like a thousand more #I have an idea for the SWAT-couple soulmate AU but I don't know if I ever get to write it XD

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