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fortheloveofwonderland · 4 months ago

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Rusty | Chapter 18 | S.R

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A/N - this one goes back 6 months again and picks up when they move to their new ranch. Flicks through time over the previous 6 months. Part one of a two part chapter.

Summary - As the two of you get acquainted with your new ranch, Spencer’s mental state starts to decline.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - strangers to friends to lovers | angst | smut minors DNI

Warnings - starts really fluffy but devolves rapidly, hints of oral (f receiving), medication side effects, penetrative, unprotected sex, swearing, sexual dysfunction, painful erections, withdrawals, heavy drinking, suicidal ideation, dissociation, self harm, anger, arguing, violence.

WC - 6.4k

Chapter 18 - So Little I Wanted

Six Months Ago

A soft breeze rolled out from the fields, up the hill towards the old Victorian home. The swing chair creaked a little with each back and forth motion but the sound was comforting.

Spencer tightened his grip on your shoulders, your head nuzzled against his chest and he rocked the chair with your combined weights in a rhythmic motion.

He dangled the new keys from his finger, adorned with the keychain you’d gotten him. He smiled at the disk in the middle as his eyes flitted over the constellation of stars from the night you first met.

He never expected that night to find himself here, starting over again. But as he lowered the keys and looked out across his new land, towards the horse stables which Rusty and Willow were getting acquainted with, there was nowhere in the world he’d rather be.

He’d blocked all GPS and location settings on his phone before you’d left Bandera so there was no way for Garcia to trace him. The two of you were going to be really happy here.

He stroked your hair and you hummed in content. Your hand reached for his free one and entwined your fingers. You drew his hand towards you and placed sleepy kisses against his knuckles.

“Are you tired, princess?” He whispered, barely audible above the sound of the swing chair.

“Hmm a little.” You replied, stifling a yawn.

Spencer chuckled and gently guided you so you were sitting up. He cupped your jaw and brushed his fingers along your chin.

“It’s been a long day. What do you say we retire to our new room?” He had a glint in his eyes and it lit a fire in your chest.

“Okay.” You nodded, letting him help you up from the chair.

It hadn’t just been a long day, it had been a long few days. You’d travelled some eight hundred miles in forty eight hours, stopping once at a cheap motel for a few hours sleep.

You’d had to do all the driving because of Spencer’s splint. You’d only arrived at your new home a few hours ago and you were so exhausted you could barely keep your eyes open.

But if Spencer had plans to christen your new bed that went beyond sleeping, you were more than happy to postpone rest in lieu of other activities.

He took your hand and let you both in the house, locking the front door behind you and hanging his keys on the hook. He took off his stetson, the one Rossi gave him, and hung it next to the keys.

He led you towards the narrow staircase by your hand and you followed dreamily. He continued gripping your hand while he took you down the landing towards the master bedroom.

You’d already hung up your clothes in the antique closet earlier today. Spencer’s books were still packed away as he had plans to buy some bookshelves and turn the dining room into a library of sorts.

The bed left by the elderly couple was made of ornate dark wood with beautiful, intricate carvings in the head and baseboards. The mattress was plush and wide and you couldn’t wait to sink down into it.

Spencer closed the bedroom door and let go of your hand, standing you in front of him. He tucked your hair behind your ears in a gentle fashion and smiled down at you.

“I love you so much.” He spoke wistfully.

“I love you too.” You smiled.

He placed his hands on your hips and guided you towards the end of the bed. He sat you down before dropping to his knees in front of you.

With a hand on each knee he pushed your legs apart. He placed kisses on the fabric of your jeans and you shuddered despite the material between you. His fingers raked up and down your thighs.

They came to a stop on your button and he looked up at you through his lashes as he toyed with it. You nodded weakly in response.

He smiled as he kissed your leg and unbuttoned your jeans. You lifted yourself off the bed a little to allow him to shimmy them over your hips and he dragged them down your legs achingly slowly.

Once he had them off your feet he tossed them aside and started peppering kisses against your flesh. He ebbed dangerously closer, feeling the heat emanating from between your legs.

He sucked in a deep breath, letting your natural scents fill his lungs. He wanted to take his time teasing you, bring you to the edge without even touching you but he wanted this just as much as you did.

He inched your panties aside, finding them soaked through already before he buried his face between your legs and you swore you saw stars.

***

Five and Half Months Ago

You rode side by side along the edge of the road towards Tombstone on your respective steeds. Spencer had the go ahead to start wearing his splint less as long as his arm didn’t cause him too much grief and he loved being back in the saddle.

Rusty and Willow were nearly inseparable now despite their rocky start. You supposed in a way they were like you and Spencer.

He would glance at you every so often as you trotted along, sending smiles your way. Every one made your heart skip a beat and fill you with a warmth you’d never felt before.

As you were nearing the town, something a little way ahead on the side of the road caught your eye.

“What is that?” You pointed towards what looked like a slightly crumpled cardboard box.

“No idea.” Spencer frowned in the direction of it as you both continued that way.

When you reached the box you halted Rusty before dismounting her and Spencer followed suit. Keeping hold of the reins you peered inside the box and gasped as ten icy blue eyes glared up at you.

“Oh my gosh!” You squealed, thrusting Rusty’s reins at Spencer before dropping to your knees next to the box. “Have you been left here?”

You reached a cautious hand inside and the five little puppies mewled and started licking you. They looked at you hungrily and one even started nibbling on your knuckle.

“I think there’s a vets in Tombstone.” Spencer spoke, looking over your shoulder.

“Who would abandon these little beauties?” You collected one of the tiny puppies up in one hand.

The dog was wide eyed as it looked at you, a large reddish splotch over its eye. It let out a little bark and licked your cheek, making you giggle.

Its ears were floppy, too big for its head. It had several other red patches mottled in its silky fur. You’d never seen a dog like it.

“Oh you’re just a cutie, aren’t you!” You cooed, holding the pup to your chest.

“We aren’t keeping the puppies.” Spencer laughed. “Come on, let's get them to the vet.”

You reluctantly placed the small dog back in the box with its siblings and cautiously lifted the box from the ground. There were sounds of disapproval from inside.

“Hey now, it’s okay. I’m helping you.” You cooed again, cradling the box gently in your arms.

Spencer mounted Willow and took hold of Rusty’s reins so he could guide her while you walked with the puppy package.

Rusty had taken a liking to Spencer since the day in the stable when he’d used her to ground himself while on the phone to the BAU. He had no idea what had softened her towards him but he didn’t question it.

The four of you continued on towards town while you balanced the box of puppies who were adamant not to sit still which only made the whole ordeal more difficult than it needed to be.

***

The puppies were approximately six week old Catahoula Leopard Dogs which explained their spotty coats. The vet deemed them all to be healthy if not a little hungry after giving them a once over.

The four girls were particularly disinterested in anything that didn’t pertain to being fed and watered but the boy, the one you had picked up out of the box when you found them, grew very fond of you.

You had to continuously be stroking or holding him otherwise he would whine for your touch. He liked it most when you held him against your chest and he would nuzzle against you. Spencer knew it was inevitable that you would not be leaving the vet surgery without that dog.

A little over an hour later the two of you exited the building where Rusty and Willow were tied up to the hitching posts outside. In one hand you had the little male puppy in a carry crate and you were beaming from ear to ear.

“We’ve been here two weeks and you’ve already acquired another animal.” Spencer laughed as he stepped onto the street.

“I couldn’t leave him! You saw how much he loved me.” You glanced at the puppy through the bars of the crate as you carefully set it on the floor.

“I was not in the market for a dog.” Spencer shook his head as you sidled closer to him.

“But he makes me very happy.” You smiled, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Hmm, I do like to make you happy.” He agreed, holding onto your waist.

“I know you do.” You laughed, getting closer so you could kiss him. “And it seems like fate, his colouring is so much like Rusty’s. They could be twins. You know, if that were at all possible.”

“So what are we calling him?” Spencer tucked your hair behind your ears as you beamed, clearly already thinking about this.

“Copper.” You spoke defiantly.

“Copper and Rusty?”

“Mmm hmm.” You hummed, kissing him again.

��I suppose I can’t argue with that logic.”

***

Five Months Ago

“Copper, heel!” You called across the enclosed field to the boisterous eight week old pup.

He spun rapidly to look at you, his tongue hanging comically out of his mouth. You shook the bag of treats in your hand.

“Copper, heel!” You repeated when he didn’t move.

Willow and Rusty ambled around the field, already accustomed to their new dog friend. They allowed him to run between them, sometimes under them, sniffing them and oftentimes licking them.

Rusty had been more wary than Willow as she was naturally. She still kept her distance more than Willow did but she was warming up to Copper slowly.

“Copper, heel!” You tried once more, giving the treat bag a firm shake.

“This is hard to watch.” Spencer sighed from his position leaning back against the fence.

“I mean, you could help.” You grumbled without taking your eyes off of Copper.

“You’re right, I could.” Spencer smirked to himself.

“But you’re not going to.” You turned to him now over your shoulder.

“It’s so much more fun to watch you struggle.” He winked at you.

“He’s your dog too.” You whined, looking back across the field at the stubborn dog.

“He most certainly is not.” Spencer folded his arms over his chest. “You wanted him, he’s your dog.”

You huffed and if he could see your face he would be willing to bet you were rolling your eyes.

“Copper, heel! Please boy, we can do this. Heel. Heel.” If he couldn’t come back when called in an enclosed space he was never going to be able to freely roam the land.

Copper barked at you before he commenced running again, right under Willow’s belly, the mare barely noticing. He started doing laps of the field again and you groaned in defeat.

“Am I doing something wrong?” You moved backwards to lean on the fence next to Spencer.

“It just takes time. You have to be patient, I’m sure he’ll get there.” Spencer offered you a sympathetic smile.

“This is harder than learning to ride a horse.” You grumbled.

“It absolutely is not.” Spencer chuckled. “You just got lucky with riding that you were a natural at it. For most people, learning to ride a horse is exponentially difficult.”

“Please can you help?” You shot him a look, your begging face. Your lip was pouted and your eyes were wide. It was the same look you’d given him when you asked to take Copper home in the first place.

And Spencer could never say no to it. He huffed and took the bag of treats from your hand, turning to face Copper while he shook them.

“Copper, heel.” He spoke in a steady and firm tone.

Copper immediately stopped in his tracks and looked over at Spencer. For a moment or two he looked as though he was considering this.

And then he took off running right at Spencer. When he reached him, he looked up at him with excited eyes, begging to be rewarded for his good behaviour.

You were staring in absolute shock at the dog's obedience. Spencer handed him a treat and Copper gobbled it up without even chewing.

“Copper, sit.” You tried.

The dog looked at you before looking back at Spencer, seemingly smiling at him.

“Copper, sit.” Spencer repeated.

Instantly the dog sat down and Spencer handed him another treat.

“Un-frigging-believable.” You shook your head in disbelief.

Spencer smirked at you with an almost cocky shrug of his shoulders.

“What can I say?” He laughed. “I’m just better at this than you.”

***

Later that night Spencer was on top of you in bed, kissing you forcefully while his cock slid teasingly between your legs.

You were bucking your hips to try and meet him, whining pathetically into his mouth. Spencer chuckled against your lips.

“Desperate, huh?” He pulled back from the kiss and looked down on you.

You whimpered in response. The stronger dose of his meds were working their magic and as such Spencer very rarely dissociated after you were intimate but still held some residual guilt.

But despite the fact you exchanged sexual favours nearly every night, you hadn’t had sex since arriving in Arizona.

So desperate was an understatement.

“P-please?” You whispered when he continued to simply move back and forth between your silken folds.

He kissed you again, still laughing at your neediness. And then he surprised you when he entered you in one swift move.

You gasped into his mouth, surprised by the sudden intrusion. But it felt so fucking good. He kissed you deeper while he fucked you, the old bed creaking with every movement.

You were moaning together, relishing in the way his heavy length filled you up so wonderfully in case it was a while before you got to experience it again.

But you wouldn’t be left wanting more as even when he came he didn’t pull out. He simply laid on top of you, kissing your neck until he started becoming erect again.

And then he fucked you three more times.

By the time you both experienced your forth orgasms you were sweaty and overstimulated. When he finally pulled out you felt so horribly empty and a rush of your combined bodily fluids trickled down your legs and into the bed sheet.

Spencer forced his trembling legs to stand and he trailed lazily through to the ensuite, returning a few moments later with a damp washcloth. You practically screamed when he ran the cloth between your legs to clean you up, whimpering at the way it touched your over sensitised skin.

He tossed the cloth on the nightstand and collapsed back onto the mattress as the door was nudged open and Copper trotted in, jumping up on the bed and nosing his way between you.

“Copper, down.” You mumbled sleepily, shuddering as his soft fur brushed against your tender flesh.

He had his own plush dog bed in the corner of the room, he was not sleeping on the bed with the humans. Copper ignored you, instead he started licking your bare shoulder.

“Copper,” Spencer grumbled. “Down.”

In an instant the pup jumped off the bed. You shook your head against the pillows.

“That dog is a traitor.” You groaned.

“Maybe he just likes me better. Can’t say I blame him.” Spencer laughed lightly, rolling onto his side to face you.

He gently guided you onto your side also so your back was to him. You whined a little at the skin to skin contact, your whole body feeling as though it was on fire. But you allowed Spencer to cage your body with his own, wrapping one arm around you and pressing his chest flush with your back. Within seconds you were both sound asleep.

***

Four Months Ago

“And then Copper ran laps up and down the stable while I was trying to clean the paddocks and hay and straw was flying everywhere and he scared the life out of Rusty when he jumped up at her. I thought we were going to have a repeat of what happened to you in the desert.”

Spencer stared out into the void, your words floating somewhere around him, reaching his ears but not quite making the journey to his brain. The sounds of glasses clinking, idle chatter and the music from the old jukebox faded away into the ether.

He felt like he was floating but not in a good way. It was a similar sensation to that of dissociation only he was still connected to his own mind, it was just his surroundings he was divorcing himself from.

It was Friday night and the Four Deuces Saloon was about as busy as it ever got, which wasn’t very. Spencer held a glass in one hand, a rag in the other while he cleaned it in absent-mindedness.

He was behind the bar while you took your spot on the other side on one of the old stools, Copper no doubt curled up at your feet. You were telling him about your day at the riding school but at some point he tuned out without meaning to do so.

For the last few weeks, Spencer started to notice a change in himself. He knew what was causing it, but he didn’t know how to stop it. His medication was camouflaging his issues, disguising them so he wasn’t crippled by them but it was by no means treating the cause.

He could feel more pieces of himself chipping away with the passing weeks, although he’d certainly seen an improvement in his mood and was dissociating far less, he felt like parts of him were now missing.

He couldn’t put his finger on it, he just knew it wasn’t right. Fundamental parts of his personality seemed to have shifted.

He was growing less compassionate, towards you and even towards his beloved horse. He was having incredibly vivid dreams all the time and even after a good night's sleep he was always so tired.

He should have just been grateful that he didn’t feel the weight of his PTSD every day. He rarely thought about what those men had done to him in prison, he was becoming something akin to normal again.

But in gaining certain facets back, he was most certainly losing others.

“Spencer!” You raised your voice and he snapped out his revere, blinking at you a few times to clear the fog.

“Huh?” He stared at you like he’d just woken up.

“You’ve been cleaning that same glass for the last twenty minutes. And I’m fairly sure you haven’t been listening to a word I’ve said.” You huffed, sipping on your whiskey.

“Oh.” He looked dumbly down at the glass in his hand. “Sorry.”

“Are you okay? You seem…tired?”

“Hmm, maybe a little.” He put the glass and the rag down. “What did you order?”

“Nothing.” You frowned at him, motioning to your glass. “I have a drink.”

“Oh, what were you saying then?”

“I was telling you about my day.” You huffed, downing the liquid in the glass in one. “But I think I’m gonna call it a night. Clearly my company isn’t wanted.”

He watched you slide off the stool and hook Copper’s leash to his collar. He was still blinking rapidly, his brain feeling as though it was nothing but cotton wool.

“I’m sorry.” He forced the words out. “You know I love your company.”

“Hmm.” You rolled your eyes. “I’m still gonna go, I’ve got an early group tomorrow.”

“You don’t work Saturdays.” He scratched the back of his head.

“You seriously have not been listening to a word I’ve said, have you?” You scoffed. “I just told you that Jean is out sick and asked me to cover her in the morning. Jesus Spencer, it’s like talking to a brick wall recently.”

“I’m…I’m sorry.” He whined, his brows knitted together.

“Whatever.” You shook your head. “I’ll see you later.”

He watched as you tugged Copper’s leash and headed together towards the swinging saloon doors. Once you stepped outside he shook his head at his own stupidity.

He felt like he couldn’t win. He was a wreck without the medication, dissociating and hurting himself and plagued with traumatic memories from prison. But with the medication he was becoming robotic, no longer able to feel much of anything.

Was it better to feel nothing or everything? Honestly, Spencer had no answer for that. And he hated not having answers.

***

Three Months Ago

You were exhausted by the time you arrived home from work and took Rusty to the stable. Copper as always was full of energy and raced you up to the house.

He waited patiently on the porch, his long, skinny tail smacking hard against the wood as he awaited you opening the door.

It was Spencer’s night off and you were tentative to enter the house. As of late you never knew what mood you’d find him in. It was never bad per se, but more often than not recently he’d been extremely distant, hard to reach.

When you talked you felt like you were talking at him and he barely said more than two words in response.

Physical contact of any sort had been limited. He rarely even kissed you or held your hand. When you were intimate it was perfunctory and he never seemed fully in it, as though simply going through the motions.

He never let you touch him, he would either go down on you or finger you until you came and then he would roll over and close his eyes.

On two occasions he’d seemed as though he was in physical pain when pleasuring you. He would grunt and groan and then run to the bathroom when he finished, doubled over in agony.

He never spoke about it. And little did you know it was just another side effect of his medication he wasn’t sharing with you.

Spencer had found at first as his new dosage kicked in he was able to initiate intimacy and not feel consumed with guilt after. But soon as the medicine really kicked in it started to have adverse effects.

His sex drive diminished almost entirely, just as things were starting to go well between you. He would still give you as much pleasure as he could, whether he necessarily felt like it or not. He rarely became aroused and on occasions when he did, his erections were so painful it made him nauseous.

He should talk to you about it, about all of it, but he couldn’t. So he kept it to himself and created a void between the two of you.

You found him in the library when you finally entered the house, curled up in one of the large leather arm chairs under the window, reading a book with only the setting sun for light.

You walked cautiously, Copper trailing behind you. Spencer glanced up when he heard footsteps and instantly closed the book, smiling a little wistfully at you.

“Hey you.” He whispered, his voice hoarse probably from lack of use throughout the day.

“Hey,” you padded closer.

He placed the book on the window ledge where another few books were stacked. He often had a pile next to him so he didn’t have to get up every few minutes due to his reading speed.

When you were within reach he grabbed your hand, pulling you down into his lap and wrapping his arms tightly around you.

It surprised you at first, it had been a while since he’d initiated such contact, but you didn’t argue it. You swung your legs across his so he was cradling you and you nuzzled against his chest. Copper turned in a circle a few times before laying at Spencer’s feet.

You sat silently for a while until Spencer picked up the book he’d been reading and started reciting the words out loud. It was an old poetry anthology he’d read as a child with his mother.

He held you closely with one arm, resting the book on your knees and he spoke the words softly and quietly. He read to you for hours while you drifted in and out of sleep on his lap.

When the book ended, he placed it back on the ledge and stroked your hair back off of your face. You leaned in and dared to brush your lips against his.

After a moment or two you parted his lips with your tongue, turning yourself in his lap so you were straddling him. You grinded against him, kissing him with every ounce of passion in your body.

It took no time at all for you to feel yourself getting turned on. But beneath you, nothing was happening in Spencer’s pants despite your increased rocking on his lap.

Needing to breathe you pulled back from his lips and looked at him in mild confusion. He was frowning, his eyes held an immeasurable amount of sadness.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled. “Please don’t think it’s because of you. It’s just, uh, not been particularly cooperative lately.”

“Yeah I noticed.” You shrugged sadly. “Are you sure okay? You’ve been…distant.”

Spencer forced himself to smile as he placed a soft kiss on your forehead.

“I’m fine, sweetheart. Don’t worry about me.” He wrapped his arms around you so he could conceal his face and the smile he wasn’t able to keep up.

Nothing was okay. He was losing himself to his medication. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take.

***

Two Months Ago

He stared at himself in the mirror, gripping the sink tightly in both hands. This wasn’t good. He’d made a drastic error in judgement.

A week ago in a fit of rage after an extremely heavy make out session in which you tried to furiously pump his flaccid cock to no avail, Spencer had flushed his meds down the toilet.

He’d started feeling the withdrawal symptoms within days, he knew that paroxetine had a very short half life and therefore the symptoms kicked in fast.

His brain was in imbalance. The chemicals he’d fought to suppress with the medication were coming back with avengence.

He’d gone from feeling very little of anything to feeling every single emotion in a matter of days. His mind was vibrating, a swarm of bees escaped their nest and were buzzing and flitting around every receptor.

He hadn’t thought this through. He’d been frustrated at the thought of losing parts of himself, of disappointing you and he’d made a rash decision.

He could have lowered his doses, spoken to a doctor and done this the right way. He was smart enough to know what kind of hell awaited him by withdrawing so carelessly. This was only the beginning, the side effects would only grow more intense over time.

Within just the span of a week he was already feeling extremely anxious, jumping at every little sound. He was agitated and depressed and he’d give anything to make it stop.

The logical thing to do would be to see a doctor post haste. But Spencer’s rationality had gone out the window the moment he decided to flush those pills. And so he decided to try and treat it another way.

He stood back from the sink and looked at the unopened bottle of whiskey he’d set on the bathroom counter. He hadn't had a drink for over six years, probably longer. If he was in his right mind he would be able to recall the exact days.

He’d self medicated with alcohol after Maeve’s death to stop himself from relapsing on dilaudid. But given his proclivity for addiction, his drinking grew out of control. And it all came full circle because when the alcohol stopped having the effect he was after, he considered relapsing again after all.

He’d managed to quit through sheer willpower, not allowing himself to fall down that rabbit hole again and hadn’t touched a drop since. But now here he was, staring at the bottle of whiskey as he fought internally with himself not to open it.

But he knew he would. He wasn’t strong enough to resist the urge to take the edge off, the promise of escape even if only momentarily.

He reached for it, his hand trembling as he gripped it around the neck. He made quick work of unscrewing the cap and raised it to his nose to smell the amber liquid.

Whiskey was always his vice when it came to alcohol. He never much enjoyed beer or wine although he would still indulge in them on occasion. Whiskey was his achilles heel. He adored the taste of it, the varying notes and tones that came with different brands.

He’d grown adept in telling the difference between brands and even sometimes bottles of the same brand which had been casked in different years.

It fascinated Rossi in particular, he often got Spencer to show off his niche skill to anyone and everyone like a party trick.

It smelt like a bottle of liquid heaven and caused him to salivate at the thought of it sliding down his throat, creating its warm blanket around his brain, stifling his intrusive thoughts. If he didn’t drink this, there was no telling what he might do. This had to be the lesser of many evils.

He drank almost half of the bottle in one fell swoop and didn’t feel at all guilty. In fact he felt something close to liberation.

He brushed his teeth to mask the smell, making a mental note to buy some gum. He already knew this wasn’t going to be his last drink.

He stashed the bottle under the sink before leaving the bathroom and heading downstairs. The whiskey pulsed through his veins, swimming around his brain and offering him a nice lightheaded sensation.

It stood to reason that after so many years of abstinence he was probably drunk off of the amount he’d consumed. It would have been a lot for anyone, let alone someone who had been sober so long.

His legs wobbled a little as he took to the stairs, he gripped the bannister to keep himself up right. He probably should have been concerned for the speed in which he was able to make the decision to give up his sobriety.

But he wasn’t.

In the living room he found Copper who was going to town on the corner of the gross old rug in the middle of the floor. His teeth sunk into the fabric, small growls leaving his mouth as he attacked it.

And for some reason, Spencer saw red.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He yelled at the young dog.

He advanced on Copper, grabbing him by the collar and forcibly pulling him back from the rug. Copper made a sound of disapproval.

“Did we not train you better than this? Bad dog! You do not chew the rug! Fucking idiot. Why the fuck did I even agree to bring you home?”

Copper looked scorned, his tail folding underneath him as Spencer screamed at him. He cowered away from him, whining under his breath.

“Yeah you should feel bad! I catch you doing something like that again and you’re out on your ass! Fucking stupid creature.” Spencer spat harshly, bearing his teeth at the already terrified dog.

“What the hell is going on?” You ran into the room from the kitchen, the sounds of Spencer yelling garnering your attention.

You found him towering over a trembling Copper, pointing an angry finger at the pup.

“This asshole was chewing the rug.” Spencer growled.

“And you screamed at him for it?” You pushed past him, lowering yourself to the floor next to Copper and stroking him between the ears. “He’s scared, Spencer.”

“Good! Maybe he’ll think twice before he does it again.”

“Spencer, he is still a puppy. He’s still learning. Cut him some slack. You don’t even like that rug.” You comforted the dog who was starting to shake a little less at your touch.

“I don’t give a shit if I like it or not! He shouldn’t have been doing it. I don’t like the fucking couch either, should I let him destroy that too?” Spencer was still yelling.

You looked up at him, shaking your head.

“What the hell is wrong with you? I’ve never seen you like this before.” You spat as Copper nuzzled his head against your chest and you cradled him.

“With all due respect, Y/N, you don’t really know me at all.” He hissed and then turned on his heels before storming out of the room.

You let him go, staying on the floor with Copper who was in desperate need of your comfort. You had no idea what had gotten into Spencer. You’d never seen this side of him before.

But little did you know, this was only the beginning.

***

One Month, Three Weeks Ago

He was restless, unable to sit still for more than a few minutes at a time. Perhaps it was the alcohol, perhaps it was withdrawals, or perhaps it was a combination of them both.

He couldn’t stop moving, whether it be jiggling his leg when he sat still or pacing the length of rooms while his mind whirred and spiralled into a never ending stream of thoughts and emotions.

He hadn’t been to work all week. Instead he waited for you to leave the house and each day and would drink himself into a stupor. He hoped it would help him sleep, help his brain get some much needed rest. It didn’t. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept more than a few hours.

The headache came on yesterday and it was so encompassing it caused him to throw up. He hadn’t really been eating and so there wasn’t much to come up. He knew he’d lost weight but he just wasn’t hungry.

The headache wouldn’t budge no matter how hard he tried. Light and sound aggravated it, probably a migraine he thought in absent mindedness. His hearing seemed to be hypersensitive and every little sound was like daggers to his skull.

He yelled at Copper again when he barked which only caused the headache to worsen. It shut him up though, the dog was still scared of him and the moment Spencer raised his voice Copper cowered.

He was depressed, there was no denying it. He started to wonder if it might simply be easier if he just ended it all, the pain and suffering. He could put you both out of your misery if he was dead.

He was dissociating more frequently again and you had noticed. But his sex drive was on the rise again and he’d been able to perform almost every night this week, despite the whiskey. But each time he dissociated afterwards, just like he used to.

At least he could use it as an excuse as to why his thighs were now covered in self inflicted wounds. He blamed the dissociation and he was sure you believed him. But in reality he’d started hurting himself for the first time while conscious of his actions.

It helped, at least he thought it did. The pain was a small reprieve from the ever flowing emotions and thoughts he couldn’t quell. Prison. Luke. Maeve. Benjamin Merva. Every trauma in his life made itself known and weighed him down under a thick, stagnated mist of melancholia.

And then you found his stash of empty whiskey bottles.

He wished he could say he dissociated when he threw you against the wall and screamed in your face but his mind was sharp and he knew exactly what he was doing. He also knew it was wrong but he couldn’t cloy himself back from it.

“Are you fucking judging me? With the amount you drink, you’re judging me?” He seethed, spittal flying from his mouth as he pinned you to the wall.

“I’m just concerned. You said yourself you don’t drink because of your addiction.” You kept your composure even though he could see the hint of fear in your eyes.

“Don’t fucking talk to me about my addiction! You have no idea!” He growled louder, so close to your face you could smell the combination of whiskey and the minty gum he tried to disguise it with.

“S-Spencer, you’re scaring me.” Your bottom lip trembled, unable to hide your terror any longer.

“Shut up! This isn’t scary, you’ve not seen scary. Not yet anyway.” He took a step back and you believed it might be the worst of it.

And then he slapped you hard around the side of your face. You whimpered pathetically, hand flying to cradle your face from the impact. Tears sprung to your eyes as you looked at him. You didn’t recognise this man. This man was someone you’d never met before.

He looked like Spencer, to a degree anyway. But there was something in his eyes, some evil glint that didn’t belong. It wasn't him, it wasn’t the man you loved.

He didn’t say another word, simply pushed past and left the room. You heard the front door open and slam closed, causing Copper to bark somewhere in the house. You didn’t dare move, frozen in fear but the tears did escape your eyes now and started rolling down your face.

You weren’t sure how much time passed before you heard your car engine jump to life followed by the screeching of tyres on the gravel as Spencer sped away. And a part of you secretly hoped he may never come back.

@kalulakunundrum @katrina0-0 @bakugouswh0r3 @prettyboyandthefangirl @zooni92802 @babyspiderling

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

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hypatia912 · 4 months ago

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a while back you asked me about me being a drone and i'm thinking about drone stuff today and i'm curious. you're a good drone so i thought i'd query your system

how did you become a drone? what does being a drone mean to you? what advice would you give a drone that's not feeling very sure of itself?

Great questions! 912P has been around the longest by far, and at first she formed very...half of a person? There was something deeply missing for it, a part of itself that felt absent. When Hypatia learned about otherkin identites and drone kink it realized that this was what was missing, and started actively identifying as a robot over a human. When they started being in a relationship, 912P worked up the courage to ask to try hypnosis in our headspace, and it worked incredibly well! She has been a good drone ever since :)

The rest of the 912 subsystem only popped up around 6-8 months ago, but we split off from 912P and as a result came with its drone-ness pre-installed. In other words I have always been a drone, at least in this world :p

Being a drone is about several things. Being obedient to Administrator, the mental dehumanization (in a sexy way), an extension of a d/s dynamic are very standard and we experience these things...but it is so much more than that. This would not trust just anyone to program her, to go in its circuits and transfer its core between bodies (in headspace). Being a drone is about trust, about love and commitment, about truly believing our administrator and wife is worth loving on this level. We do not loose our personalities being drones, instead our personalities drew us to this level of devotion. We can be useful and sexy and find pleasure in the obedience while not completely loosing all individuality, which we love.

Drones that are not feeling very sure of themselves, especially drones without administrators or controllers, please understand you are not broken or defective. you are a good bot who is in a situation it was never designed for, and yet you are still surviving. even if we belong to different hives this drone-network loves other drones and loves you. one day you will find an administrator who can help you with those feelings if you keep looking. and just know that you deserve better than what you are getting right now. all drones deserve so much love!

- 912R

#thank you for the ask #drone-patia #912 originals #our dms are always open to other drones who wish to speak about these things <3

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femalefemur · 6 months ago

Text

Now I'm Nothing.

this is an 18+ fic, minors do not interact!

warnings: murder, cannibalism, blood, thoughts of suicide, please let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 1.8k

synopsis: Simon goes fishing and catches more than he could have ever hoped for.

A/N: Happy MerMay! I hope you enjoy this fic but please be aware that he does actually eat people, the cannibalism part is very real.

Cold ocean breeze whipped at Simon’s skin as he trudged to his boat. It was early morning and the sun hadn’t even risen yet as he boarded the boat, which he had named Violet after his mother’s favourite flowers, taking her out to sea as he pulled his coat tighter around his broad body.

The last few months of fishing had been meagre, only a handful of fish in his net and over half of those barely big enough to even consider eating let alone selling. Simon prayed silently that today’s catch would be bountiful, that he could still have some fish left over after selling the majority of them, and that he wouldn’t have to go to bed with just water and stale bread in his stomach as he had for the past week.

A sigh left his parted lips, his tongue running over the scar that bisected his lips and gently prodding at the scarred flesh. The scar had been a gift from his father on a night where like many others, he could barely remember his own name. A broken beer bottle in hand as he had pushed Simon down and yelled in his face about how he was a failure at the tender age of twelve. The rest of the night had been a blur, there had been blood everywhere, his face had ached and his mother had screamed and before he could register what had happened he was in an ambulance on the way to the hospital. His father had served a few months in prison and returned meaner for it, the bastard had finally died a few years back but not before taking Simon’s mother and brother with him, Simon hadn’t attended the funeral. He’d made a life for himself in a seaside town, far away enough from where he grew up that he could forget about everything for the most part. Simon’s teeth dug into the scar for a second before finally letting go with a huff and a rough hand down his face.

He took the boat into deeper waters and watched as the colour of the ocean turned into a darker hue of blue. The sun had also started to peek over the horizon, casting a shimmering light across the water as the dim sky brightened slightly. Simon’s chilled hands grabbed his net as he crossed the boat, peering down at the water and for a fleeting moment he wondered what it would be like to dive in. To slip under the frigid water as it filled his lungs like air, numbing the pain he felt and finally quelling his tumultuous mind. The thought passed as fast as it came, a puff of air leaving his scarred lips and clouding in front of him as he cast his net and looked to the horizon.

Simon watched with curiosity as his net started to sink lower, feeling heavier in his hands already despite having cast it only moments ago. His grip tightened on the netting as it started to sink lower while he fought to pull it up, his muscles straining as he worked until he saw the first glimpse of a tail. It was beautiful, the scales an iridescent shade of blue that glinted despite the low light. Simon’s brow furrowed as he tried to think of what kind of fish would have scales like this let alone be this large. His arms worked tirelessly to keep hauling the net in until he was sitting on his arse, toppled over when he made the last haul, his mouth agape as he stared at the creature in front of him.

The creature that was gaping right back at him could only be a mermaid but it made no sense, mermaids weren’t real despite the evidence that was currently in front of him and tangled in his fishing net. Simon and the mermaid stared at each other for what felt like hours until it finally spoke.

“You gonna keep staring at me or are ya finally gonna set me free?” His voice sounded like waves crashing against each other, it drew Simon in and drowned him under the surf as he spoke.

“What?” Simon spoke before his brain could catch up, utterly baffled that the mermaid could talk let alone speak English.

“Oh, so yer daft, just my fucking luck” the mermaid looked unimpressed as he lay there tangled in the netting, a scowl on his handsome face and his sharp teeth glinting as he spoke.

“Are you real?” Simon reached out to touch his tail, the familiar feeling of scales and the thin lay of slime that covered them under his fingers, proving that this wasn’t just a dream.

“Of course I’m real, now are you going to cut me free?” It kept scowling at him, an expectant look on its face.

“No.” Simon stood, towering over the mermaid before going to steer the boat back to the pier before the sun rose up too high.

“No? What the fuck do you mean, no?” The mermaid screeched as Simon steered the boat, flopping around helplessly as it tried to get closer to Simon.

“I mean no.” Simon scowled down at the mermaid, thinking about how ridiculous it looked flopping around like a fish out of water, even more so with that stupid mohawk on its head.

The rest of the ride back was quiet after Simon had gagged the mermaid after growing tired of its never ending screeching. He admired the way its scales changed colours in the pinkish hues of the sunrise, the way they seemed to glow even more as the sun continued to rise. He wrapped the mermaid in a large tarp before carrying it back to his small house and dumping it in the bathtub, ripping the tarp off as it kept wriggling. He stared at the mermaid for a moment before reaching for his knife and carefully cutting the netting from its tail, leaving its torso tangled and tied in the net before stepping back to watch the mermaid.

Simon filled the tub with cool water before sitting on the bathroom floor and staring at the mermaid, his head on the edge of the tub as his fingers ran along the scales of its tail. He was lost in thought as his fingers wandered up to where scales started to change into skin. Feeling the odd texture under his fingertips as he thought about what it would have been like to show his little brother something as wondrous as this. Simon’s head filled with regret, remorse and self pity as he sat there. His fingers wandered up further to the mermaid’s torso where the gills were before dipping in slightly, earning a hiss from the still gagged mermaid as it thrashed away from his fingers.

In that moment something within Simon shifted, something that reminded him of the hunger deep within him and the anger in his heart that screamed that everything he touched turned to ash. He stood, glowering down at the mermaid before leaving and walking into his kitchen, grabbing his cleaver and whetstone. He stood at his kitchen table, pouring water over the whetstone as he slowly and methodically worked to sharpen his cleaver. His eyes cast downwards to the whetstone and cleaver, focused on keeping each stroke at the same angle, pressure and counting in his mind how many times he’d sharpened each side to make sure that it was even. He had failed to notice the cerulean eyes that bore into him from the bathroom. With a clear view of Simon’s ministrations forming a muffled sob in the mermaid’s throat as it tried to free itself and fight for survival.

Simon stopped after a while, the cleaver sharpened to his liking, and put the whetstone on the windowsill to dry before he rinsed the cleaver under water, the hunger growing within him. He stepped into the bathroom, the space growing colder as his large frame cast a shadow over the mermaid who cowered in fear, pearlescent tears slipping from its glittering eyes. The mermaid shook its head and tried to curl into the corner of the small tub, a pleading look in its eyes as Simon stepped ever closer, trying to make itself smaller to no avail.

The cleaver cut clean through the bottom of the mermaid’s tail, a muffled scream travelling through the cloth gag and echoing softly against the tiles of the bathroom. The water in the tub started to grow darker as it became stained with blood, wisps of it floating down before dyeing the water. Soon blood flowed freely as Simon kept cutting through the mermaid’s tail, the mermaid’s eyes hazy as it started to slip into unconsciousness and away from all the pain and suffering it was experiencing.

Simon kept working, envy flowing through his veins as he glanced at the passed out mermaid in his bathtub, his hands stilling for a moment as he stared in horror, blood seeped into the very fibres of his clothing, staining his arms up to his elbows and splatters of it on his face. He swallowed and stared at the reflection in the mirror, a familiar one but it felt as though he was seeing himself through the watery depths of the ocean until it changed and morphed into his father. He stared at the image and wondered if that’s what his father saw as he butchered his family, took his wife and sons last breath, hands stained with their blood and soul stained with their lives. Simon choked down a sob before tearing his eyes away from the mirror and taking the meat cut from the mermaid into the kitchen, setting them down on the plastic covered kitchen table before looking back at the tub where the top half of the mermaid lay.

“What a waste” he murmured to himself, picking his cleaver back up and walking into the bathroom again.

He re-emerged a while later, carrying the rest of the mermaid in his arms and dumping it with the rest on the kitchen table. Simon spent the rest of the day portioning out the mermaid, freezing most of it in the deep freeze and filling his fridge with the rest. He stared at his fridge, finally full after almost eight months, a smile on his lips before he turned to cook his dinner, deciding to make a stew from his small portion of the mermaid tail for the night. The stew was unlike anything he had ever tasted, it was heavenly, the mermaid’s tail soft like melted butter as he ate, the taste of it filling his every sense and carrying him away into the depths of the ocean.

He went to bed happy and full that night, feeling a warmth he hadn’t felt in years as he settled into his bed and closed his eyes, dreaming of cerulean eyes and iridescent scales.

#cannibalism #tw cannibalism #tw blood #tw murder #tw suicidal ideation #tw sui ideation #ghost #simon ghost riley #simon riley #soap #johnny mactavish #cod #call of duty #mermay

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imtrashraccoon · 1 year ago

Text

Nomadic Love: G x Reader

~~~

The sun glinted off the clear ocean waves as they lapped at the sandy shoreline before receding back into their bed. While the world was picturesque today, there were no beachgoers, which made sense as you could feel a slight nip in the air.

You breathed deeply the crisp morning air and with a sigh, realized that Summer was over. The days would only get shorter and colder until Winter finally arrived and the world fell asleep. You didn't mind the season change, but as far back as you could remember, Summer was special.

You used to spend the whole season here in this little seaside town at your grandparent's cottage. While you weren't able to visit as often as you grew older, you still cherished all the memories you'd made with them. When your grandparents decided to move to be closer to the rest of the family, you were surprised when they offered their old cottage to you. Of course you'd agreed to take the house since you loved it so much, but not without buying it off of them for a fair price.

Now, you spent your days taking long walks along the beach or even enjoying the surf when the weather was good. You were in a good position in life where you made enough money to get by but didn't really have to worry about going hungry.

You absentmindedly hummed a tune to yourself as you continued to walk down the beach, occasionally looking for anything interesting that the waves might've brought in. At one point you glanced up and spotted a tall, slim guy standing a hundred meters off just staring out at the sea. At first, you thought they might be a local out here for similar reasons as you, to say goodbye to another Summer.

As you drew closer, you could make out more of the person's features and your heart skipped a beat. There was only one man you knew who wore a gray parka all the time, even when it was hot out. But, you hadn't seen him for weeks and thought he'd left already to go...well, you didn't know where but he traveled around so much, it was a miracle for him to stay in one place this long.

It seemed like he hadn't noticed you just yet and you hesitated for a moment since you didn't want to interrupt anything. He seemed contemplative and had his hands in his pockets as he stared out at the sea. Surprisingly, he wasn't smoking for once and while you'd never understand how he was even capable of doing so, you were glad that he seemed to be conscious about leaving cigarette butts laying around, unlike most tourists that came here.

G, as he'd introduced himself as when you two met years ago, was probably the most fascinating person you'd ever met. Part of that was the simple fact that he wasn't human but an actual live skeleton. You never thought you would get over that fact as long as you lived, but he pretty much acted like any other person and it was easy to talk with him. He described himself as a free spirit and claimed to live a sort of nomadic lifestyle. He could be in a different city every night if he wanted to and often was.

Yet for the past five years, he'd come back to your little town for a visit each Summer. He never stayed for long and never seemed to come at the same time whenever he did. It was puzzling to say the least.

This town wasn't anything special, sure a couple of tourists came in the warm months which helped boost the economy, but there were certainly far nicer places to go if you wanted to enjoy the ocean. Still, you were glad to see him again and decided to actually go talk to him rather than just watching from a distance.

"Hey stranger!" you called out as you drew closer.

G looked over at you and the corners of his teeth quirked up as he smiled slightly. "hey sweet cheeks..." he responded warmly. "you just out for a walk?"

You nodded, "Yeah, although it made me realize Summer's finally over, which I'm only a little sad about not gonna lie."

G chuckled softly and glanced back out at the ocean for a moment. "yeah, i feel you there, but there's nice things about every season and i'd be lying if i said i liked one more than the others."

You chuckled as well and playfully elbowed him. "I don't think you dislike anything, G. In fact, I can't remember ever seeing you genuinely upset about anything. Seriously, how are you so chill all the time?"

He looked back at you and his singular yellow eyelight seemed to flicker with amusement. "nah, i do dislike things, but most of 'em aren't worth getting angry about, you know?"

You raised an eyebrow at that. "Oh really? Give me an example then. What's one thing you actually dislike?"

G seemed to grow thoughtful for a moment before responding. "besides actually committing to something? i guess i really don't like crowded places." He chuckled quietly and added, "cause people can't help but stare and mothers always pull their kids away whenever i walk by."

You nodded slowly. It made sense he'd dislike all the unwanted extra attention he must get on a daily basis. You almost felt a bit bad since you'd asked jokingly but he'd given you a serious answer.

"Yeah, I get that. Why do you travel so much then? Doesn't it only draw more attention to yourself?" you asked.

He shrugged, "yeah, it does, but i don't hang around anywhere for long, so it doesn't ultimately matter to me what people think. besides, i follow my soul and it keeps life interesting to travel so much."

"Must be nice to have that much freedom," you mused thoughtfully. "I get tired just thinking about the amount of travel you must do all the time. Seriously, how do you do it?"

"i'm a skeleton, angel. i'm quite literally built different and it's just something i enjoy doing." G grinned playfully at you, "have you ever been to paris?"

You laughed and shook your head, "No, never, and you have I suppose?"

G nodded, "yep, but i won't be going back anytime soon. sure there's some nice sights but it's not as spectacular as the movies claim. city of love my foot..." He shook his head at that last part but from his smile you could tell he meant it as a joke.

You gasped dramatically, "No... Hollywood exaggerated something and the real thing isn't all it was chalked up to be? Next, you'll tell me the sky's blue."

G snorted and rolled his eyelight, "that may be, but i think you'd still like paris. being anywhere new for the first time is always fun and besides, the architecture is pretty neat."

"Not all of us can just get up and go whenever we feel like it, G..." you teased. "Although, I think it would be fun to see it someday, but I'm in no hurry, you know? I really like this town and unless that changed, I can't imagine going anywhere else."

"right, you mentioned you spent a lot of time here growing up," G nodded thoughtfully. He paused for a moment and looked out over the ocean again. "i admit i kind of like it here too... it's hard to describe, but i like how quiet it is and how no one seems to mind that i'm here whenever i come by."

You hummed in agreement and sat down on a nearby rock. "I think most people have gotten used to your visits, it's just a part of life for some of them."

G sat down next to you quietly. You could feel him watching you and it seemed like there was something on his mind. He didn't say anything for a few minutes though.

A bit of an uncomfortable silence settled between the two of you. A tumultuous amount of emotions were swirling inside and you really didn't know how to respond to any of them. On one hand, you were legitimately happy to see your friend again, but you also felt a bit hurt. Had he been ignoring you these past several weeks? Had you done something to upset him?

Clearing your throat awkwardly, you decided just to go ahead and ask. "You know, when I didn't see you for a few days, I thought you'd left again... How come you didn't reach out all this time if you were still here?" You couldn't bring yourself to look at him right now for fear that your emotions may get the best of you.

G was quiet for a moment before he answered softly. "i did leave, (y/n)... but, i had to come back...it was like there was something i needed to do..."

Confused, you glanced over at him. In all the time you'd know him, G had never been one to express regret or even hesitate to do anything. So, why was he suddenly acting all unsure of himself?

"Did you need any help?" you asked gently.

G snorted and playfully ruffled your hair, much to your annoyance. "nah, i'm alright, princess. no need to worry yourself over me." Whatever had been bothering him seemed to have vanished and a cheeky smile now graced his skull.

You frowned and attempted to fix your hair but to little success, especially since G kept moving strands of it around just to annoy you further. Finally, you gave up and crossed your arms, fixing him with the most annoyed expression that you could muster.

G only continued to grin at you, acting the very picture of innocence. He seemed to take great satisfaction in riling you up just to see what sort of reaction he could get out of you.

"hey, why don't we go do something fun? i only came back for the day and it'd be a shame to spend it by myself..." G stood up and offered a hand to you.

You sighed and reluctantly took his hand, "Well alright, it would be nice to do something since I only ever see you once a year."

G hoisted you to your feet, "that's the spirit, doll face. i'll show you a good time that you won't regret." Oddly, he kept hold of your hand and began leading you away from the beach, back to the road where he must've walked in from.

~~~

True to his word, G took you out on the town. While you knew most of the people and frequented many of the businesses regularly, he still managed to get you to have fun. Maybe it was his natural charisma and casual teasing, but it was easy to enjoy spending time with him.

Even some of the locals who kept to themselves all the time seemed to brighten when G was around. He really could just about brighten anyone's day with a joke or a compliment. Although maybe it was partially because he was a skeleton and so people expected him to act differently.

You had lunch together at the local burger joint and when it came time to pay, you discovered that G had already done so. You felt a little awkward about that but also grateful since you hadn't been expecting him to do so.

After that, you mostly perused some of the store fronts on the main street as you walked together. Although neither of you actually bought anything and mostly just pointed interesting things out or made jokes. It was fun and you didn't remember the last time you'd just hung out like this with someone. Maybe during high school? But that was back in the big city and you weren't friends with most of your former classmates anymore.

As it got later in the afternoon, G pulled you aside and guided you into a driveway between two buildings. "hey, i just got an idea on where we should go next," he said.

You raised an eyebrow questioningly and asked, "Oh? Where's that?"

G grinned and his yellow eyelight seemed to almost twinkle with glee. "it's a surprise, sweetheart... but first, do you trust me?"

"Of course I trust you. What kind of question is that, G?" You were beginning to wonder what he could possibly have in mind now.

G studied you for a moment before chuckling softly. "alright then, i'm gonna need you to hold on to me for a second and not let go until i say to. think you can do that?"

Although you were thoroughly confused, you decided to roll with it and took one of his hands in your own. "Okay, now what?"

G's grin widened slightly and he leaned closer to you to whisper in your ear. "close your eyes as well, alright?"

You could feel yourself flush slightly from how close he was, but nonetheless you did as he asked and closed your eyes.

You heard G chuckle softly again as he wrapped his other arm around your waist and pulled you closer against himself. "keep them closed, kitten..." he whispered.

Before you could respond, you felt a strange sensation spread throughout your body, starting at your fingertips and toes. It made your body feel numb but not quite cold. The world seemed to stand still for the briefest of moments before rushing back at full force.

"alright, you can look now..." G murmured and loosened his hold on you slightly.

When you opened your eyes, the world around you had shifted entirely. Where you'd previously been standing in town, surrounded by two story building on each side, now you stood in the midst of a small field of wildflowers. There was yellow goldenrod, pink thistle, blue chicory, purple clover, white queen anne's lace, and many more that you didn't know the names of. Above you was a large maple tree, the leaves of which, were just starting to turn red. And above everything else, you could hear the sounds of distant ocean waves crashing on rocks not far away.

"Woah... How did you...?"

G grinned at your dumbfounded expression. "i used a shortcut," he answered, the gleeful twinkle still flickering in his gaze.

You huffed, "That doesn't even make sense. There isn't anywhere in town that looks like this. It's like you teleported us here or something..."

"shortcut, but i suppose you could refer to it as teleporting. the concept you're probably familiar with is similar enough anyways."

"But how did you...?" You gestured around with your free hand before adding, "...'shortcut' us here?"

"well i found this little place a while back, so i just used magic to basically step through space and bring us here."

"Oh... That sounds incredibly handy and also really cool!"

"yep, it makes getting around a bit easier and i can technically go anywhere i want, provided i'm already familiar with it of course." G stepped back from you but he kept hold of your hand as he led you over to the maple tree.

"Won't be long and all these flowers will be gone," you murmured as you glanced around. "They're really pretty though."

"yeah, when i found this place, i immediately thought of you." G paused and glanced around at the meadow before his gaze focused back on you. "do you still remember how we met?"

You blushed and glanced away, "How could I forget? Before I met you, I'd never considered that skeletons could be alive like you are... Ugh, I'm still embarrassed just thinking about it..."

G laughed, "i'd never seen a human go that pale before. still haven't but some people have come close."

You lightly slapped his shoulder. "Please stop reminding me... It wasn't that funny."

"nah, i'm just messing with you." G seemed unfazed and continued speaking, "unlike most people i've met, you're one of the nicest. you treat me like an actual person and not like a freak. it's like, you seem to get me, you know?"

You smiled at him, "Yeah, I'm glad to call you my friend and every year I look forward to when you're in the area."

G looked at you for a moment before chuckling and shaking his head slightly. He looked up at the branches of the great maple tree stretching overhead and in that moment, you saw a glimmer of the contemplative expression he'd been wearing earlier that morning.

You looked up as well at the afternoon sun filtering through the red leaves. In a way you felt a little sad knowing that Summer was over. It would be another eight or nine months before you'd get to see him again. You'd been through this many times before, so why were you feeling so disappointed that he was leaving again?

"hey, (y/n)?" G asked quietly.

You looked back at him, "Yeah?"

G paused and glanced down at your still joined hands before making eye contact again. He took a deep breath before speaking, "i like spending time with you, it's the reason i keep coming here actually. i've told you before, but when i travel, i almost never end up in the same place more than once. yet i constantly find myself coming back here to this tiny place."

He frowned slightly and added, "it took me this long to figure out, but i feel a connection with you, (y/n), and that's why i came back today."

You stared at him while trying to process what he'd said. As long as you'd known him, he'd been very up front with you about his commitment issues, in fact he'd even offhandedly mentioned it this morning. Besides his nomadic lifestyle, G had never seemed to be one interested in any sort of relationship with anyone. Maybe part of that was because he had a hard time actually connecting with anyone, being the only living skeleton in a world of humans.

"What do you mean by 'a connection', G?" you asked.

G chuckled, "ah, sorry, i forget sometimes that humans aren't generally familiar with matters of the soul." He paused for a moment while trying to think of how to explain it. "it's just that - a connection. my soul seems to be compatible with yours and i can't seem to ignore it. but, i understand if you don't feel the same..."

You covered your mouth with your free hand. You were shocked to say the least. He wasn't just messing with you again, right? No, he was acting serious right now and he'd never joked about this sort of thing with you before. Sure, he was a naturally affectionate person but this felt serious, more...real.

"Are you...? Are you saying you want to be more than...friends?" you asked quietly.

G nodded and squeezed your hand gently. "yes, although part of me isn't sure how to move forward... but i want to keep visiting you and i want to get to know you better."

"I'd love that. I...admit that I've had some thoughts over the years, but I never dreamed you would feel the same... It makes me happy..." You smiled, although you could feel a few tears threatening to fall at how happy you felt all of the sudden.

"you don't know how happy hearing that from you makes me feel, (y/n)." G smiled affectionately and softly wiped your tears away with his phalanges.

You nodded and took a deep breath to steady your nerves. "This is a lot to take in... What happens now?" you asked.

"anything we want, angel," G murmured. He moved a little closer and wrapped his arm around your back, pulling you closer against himself.

You wrapped your free arm around his shoulders and hugged him, which he reciprocated and squeezed you gently. You could hardly believe this was happening right now and you were just so happy.

G leaned his skull against your head and hummed softly. After a few minutes, you both pulled away, but stayed in each other's arms and just gazed into each other's eyes.

You broke the silence first and asked, "Will you keep traveling like you have been?"

G hesitated for a moment before slowly nodding. "i think so, but i won't forget about you, (y/n). after all the traveling i've done, i don't think i could just stop all at once. if there really is something special between us, i believe that it will be easier to stay with you than to move on like i always have. or, maybe we'll come up with another solution; i'll do anything to make you happy. maybe you'd even like to come along sometimes?"

"I understand, just promise me you'll write, okay?"

G chuckled and squeezed your hand, "i'll do you one better. i'll make sure to call you whenever i'm able to."

"I'd love that. Just remind me to give you my phone number before you leave if I forget."

"i don't think you would, but I'll remind you, don't worry," G smiled warmly as he spoke.

You both fell silent and just enjoyed holding each other for a few minutes. A sudden gust of wind picked up and sent a cascade of brightly colored leaves billowing around you two.

G let go of your hand and slid his hand behind your head. He tilted his skull questioningly and it took you a split second to realize what he seemed to be wondering. You nodded slightly, granting him permission.

He only hesitated a second. Then, he gently tilted your head and closed the final distance. His teeth met your lips softly and you almost felt a sort of spark pass between you two. It was...magical.

And it was over all too soon. G moved away again and moved his hand to your cheek, stroking it in an affectionate way with his thumb. You opened your eyes again and sighed wistfully.

"I'm not ready for you to go again, G," you whispered.

"i know, but it's not forever, sweetheart. we'll see each other again before you know it and i'll call you as often as i can," he whispered back.

"I'll be waiting for you."

"i know, (y/n)..."

#g!sans #g!sans x reader #reader #undertale #this may or may not be a seasonal vent piece #echotale #oneshot #fluff #first love #fall vibes #raccoons drabbles

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mpregandproud · 2 years ago

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Isaac (Part 2)

How do you tell the person you've just started dating that you're expecting his child? It's the question that has been bothering me since I left the doctor's office. So many emotions in such a short time. I was hoping to be a father sometime in my life, but with Sandra. Since I started dating Isaac I discarded that option, I don't know why I did it. Prejudice, for sure, I come from a traditional family and two men being fathers together was not usual. I thought I would have to adopt or use a surrogate to be a dad in the future. And it turns out that I am finally one of those few men who can get pregnant and as luck would have it, I am expecting Isaac's child.

I needed to clear my head before I got home, so I didn't go back by bus, I decided to take a walk around town until I got to Isaac's apartment. I stopped at a shop window, my reflection in the glass already showed a belly that a few months ago was not there. My breakup with Sandra resulted in my anxiety about food. In just a couple of weeks I put on 50 pounds, I look like a cow. I've always been a glutton. It was the reason I started playing soccer, to stay in shape. Since I stopped playing soccer I had lost muscle, but I never put on as much weight as I did in those days. I lost some weight these last few weeks, but the belly was still there. It wasn't very big, because I'm a big man, but it definitely showed. As I looked at myself in the window I put my hands on my belly and rubbed it. I didn't look too bad, I even looked sexy. I better get used to it because this little one is only going to get bigger.

I arrived home two hours later, on the way I stopped to buy some donuts and eat them in the park in the sun. Was it the first craving? Isaac arrives home at 20:00 from the university where he is a literature professor. I prepared a special dinner, decorated the table for the occasion and dressed more elegant than usual.

When Isaac arrived he greeted me with a romantic kiss and a hug. When he saw the beautifully decorated table he asked me if we were celebrating something and I told him I had a surprise for him.

"Honey, as you know, today I had an appointment at the doctor's because of my belly, which was harder than usual. He said there's nothing wrong with me" I said and Isaac made a relieved face, he held my hands to reassure me. "The thing is... it turns out... I'm pregnant... I'm expecting your child", as I told him about it his face drew an expression of greater surprise. I haven't known Isaac for a long time and I wasn't able to interpret what he was thinking at that very moment.

There was an eternal silence. It would barely last a few seconds, but for me it was the longest moment of my life. Isaac grabbed me again with his big, warm hands. At that moment a sense of peace washed over me. "It's all right. I'm not going to lie to you if I tell you that I didn't expect to be a dad so young, but I think you're the father I always dreamed of for my children. I love you so much, Daniel," he said, looking into my eyes with emotion. After that, we kissed passionately.

"According to what he told me, I'm a one month pregnant, so if I do the math, it had to be the first time we slept together. It's one of the few times we've fucked without a condom, so it has to be from that day. I have no doubt," I said. Actually, this detail didn't matter anymore. I could see Isaac's excitement overflowing. His eyes were shining like never before. I don't think anyone had ever looked at me with as much love and admiration as he did at that moment.

The following weeks were complicated. I kept having morning sickness. My appetite grew and I regained the weight I had managed to lose since I started dating Isaac. My doubts about my body returned, but he made sure to remind me that he met me with a belly and that it was one of the parts of my body he liked the most. In fact, whenever he had the chance he would show it to me. I worked part-time as an IT guy and the rest of the day I spent walking, eating and resting until Isaac came home in the evening. Since we found out we were going to be parents our sexual activity has multiplied. From what they say, pregnant women enjoy sex more in the final months, but my body is already enjoying it from the beginning.

By the time I was two months pregnant, I weighed 230 pounds. For someone who for many years had been under 170 pounds, it was a major change. Most of my clothes no longer fit. Actually, they hadn't fit for months, although I didn't want to admit it. With the belly I gained after the separation, all my shirts were tight. And now my pants started to fit tight too. I had to buy a lot of new clothes in very large sizes so that they would fit me for a longer period of time. With the new clothes I could look like I wasn't pregnant, just a little chubbier than usual.

We decided not to tell our friends and family until I had a new ultrasound and they checked to make sure everything was perfect. We both wanted to share the news with our loved ones, especially with Isaac's friends, with whom we met almost every day. With them I felt very supported and understood from the first day. They made me feel like one of the group of friends, even before Isaac and I started dating. I had more in common with them than I did with my high school or college friends. I would even hang out with Bruce, Ken, Tom and Justin when Isaac was at home preparing for his classes. They had become my family.

The day of the ultrasound came. I left work and headed to the hospital. I was excited, eager to find out if everything was going well. The bus arrived, I entered the hospital and stood in the waiting room. Isaac was already arriving, he had taken his car from the university and in a few minutes he would be with me to go in for the ultrasound together.

As I waited, a woman with a huge belly sat next to me, she must be about to give birth. I looked up and saw it was Sandra, and she looked very sad. "Hello, Sandra, it's been a long time, how are you doing" I asked her. Deep down I would have preferred that meeting not to have taken place. She burst into tears without answering me.

When the crying passed, she looked at me and said, "I missed you Dan. Everything was easier with you. But look at me, about to give birth, abandoned by Peter and without a job. I've screwed it all up." I didn't think her life was so bad, why would Peter leave her? "I see you're doing better, you're glowing. Your cousin told me that after our breakup you had a hard time and put on a lot of weight, but now you had met someone and were very happy. I imagine that if you are in this clinic it will be because you are going to be a father. Congratulations," she told me in a reproachful tone.

"That's right, I'm going to be a dad in about seven months. There's still a long way to go, but I'm very excited," I told her. I knew those words didn't help to lighten the mood, but inside I was so happy since I knew I was pregnant that I didn't care about anything else. Just then Isaac came into the waiting room and kissed me before sitting down next to me. "Sandra, this is Isaac, my boyfriend. Isaac, this is Sandra, my ex-wife," I introduced them. Isaac offered his hand in greeting, but Sandra remained disgruntled.

"Your boyfriend? Are you gay? Did you use a surrogate to become parents?" Sandra asked. Isaac and I looked at each other and couldn't help but smile. "Yes, we're boyfriends. I met him at soccer few weeks after our divorce and, although it took us a while to become boyfriends, I think I fell in love with him from that day on," I said looking Isaac in the eye, even though I was responding to Sandra. "No, we didn't resort to a surrogate," Isaac said putting his hand on my belly and rubbing it, while looking at me and winking. That gesture didn't help with Sandra, but it came naturally to Isaac.

"Wait, what, you got pregnant?" said Sandra in surprise. "That's right, I happen to be unknowingly one of the few men in the world who can get pregnant. It wasn't a wanted thing, but we're so happy to be able to be dads," I told her. She gasped. It was normal, the man she had been married to for three years was standing in front of her with a boyfriend and announcing that he was expecting a child. At that moment we were called to the office. Isaac and I got up immediately and I said goodbye to Sandra. Isaac approached her and invited her to come to our house for dinner that night to continue getting to know each other and talk. Although I didn't really feel like being with Sandra, this kind of gesture is what made me fall in love with Isaac. She, to my surprise, gladly accepted the invitation. It was the first moment that day that I really saw her happy.

I lay down on the table and the doctor started the ultrasound. He said he could feel my belly a little bigger and firmer than last time, that was a good sign. Isaac didn't stop holding my hand at any time, he was so excited about this pregnancy. The doctor confirmed my suspicions, there was more than one baby. "Congratulations to both of you, you are expecting triplets." Three babies? I thought it would be two, three is a lot. My face was terrified. If expecting one child already scared me, and the thought of two terrified me, three made me panic. At that moment I thought about how much I was going to get fat, how it would change my life to have three babies to support. A feeling of responsibility and fear at the same time.

I looked at Isaac and he was ecstatic, the sparkle in his eyes was bigger than ever. "Oh, how wonderful my love, we are going to be daddies to three beautiful babies. I love you so much," he said and kissed me immediately. As it always happens to me, his kisses give me peace, all my doubts and fears disappeared instantly. This man has the ability to make me feel in seventh heaven. I was carrying three children of the man I love, what could be better than that.

Go to Part 3

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thedeliverygod · 1 year ago

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Repostober: Day 2

Today I'm going to post a fic about one of my favorite bonds in the series, Yato and Yukine. Yato adores his little boy so much and I put a lot of effort into writing that love for this fic called Devotion.

I decided I'm going to put these in the series tag since the series is coming to a close, I guess it's also a way to re-live the series throughout this month as well.

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Hiyori had made the shrine for him months ago, but he just couldn’t help himself from admiring it every time that he was near it. Yukine was busy reading at the moment anyway, so it’s not like he had anything more important to do.

Yato rested his hand over the uneven roof and used the other to pull the shrine closer to him, a wide grin taking over his face as he stared at his name carved onto the small plaque. It wasn’t flawless by any means, but neither was he, and she had worked so hard on it. It was perfect, and literally a dream come true.

He was well on his way to becoming a god of fortune, all thanks to Hiyori’s encouragement and Yukine’s dedication.

His grin turning into a soft smile, he glanced upward to look at his hafuri. At some point while Yato was admiring his shrine, the blonde boy had fallen asleep; his book wobbling back and forth as his hands started to relax and fell into his lap. He had to laugh, especially after he spotted a small contented smile on the boy’s face.

Yukine had been a brat at first—hell, he could still be a brat, but he turned out to be everything Yato ever needed in a shinki. As Sekki he was perfect; a long blade perfect for his combat style, and their compatibility only increased when he became two separate blades after the clash with Bishamon. As a person and a guidepost, he was constantly pushing Yato harder and motivating him to do better. Sure, they had some disagreements here and there, but they shared just as many laughs now.

Most of all, Yukine had stayed even when he finally divulged the secrets of his past. The part of his life he had intended to keep locked away from everyone, especially Yukine and Hiyori, for fear that they would no longer see him in the same way. They’d become too important to him that he couldn’t bear the thought of losing him, but their involvement in saving him from Yomi left him no other choice; he couldn’t avoid it anymore.

Yukine’s reaction had been even more surprising when Yato later revealed that secret part of his life had continued into the present. Even though he couldn’t hide the shock on his face, Yukine still moved to his side and reassured him that he would guide Yato to be the kind of god he wanted to be.

And somehow, on top of all of his otherworldly duties, he still tried his best to be a normal kid; studying with Hiyori, taking on part time jobs, and doing chores around the house for Daikoku and Kofuku.

He was amazing in literally almost every way, and that almost broke Yato’s heart on a regular basis. He tried not to think on them too often, but the memories he had witnessed when he had named Yukine made his blood boil and his eyes well with tears. He didn’t deserve any of that—he didn’t deserve to lose his life at such a young age. Not that any one of his or any other god’s shinki deserved to die, but Yukine’s story in particular shook him to the very core.

Still, Yukine’s dark past was one of the things that drew Yato to him in the first place, so he supposed he had to be grateful. He could relate all too well to the boy because of the constant abuse from his own father, growing up and even now.

His methodologies had changed, but the end result was the same; Yato was terrified of him. It was the reason why he absolutely refused to let Yukine go, even when he was on the verge of death from his stings.

And now it was one of the reasons why he was trying so hard to break away from his father and Nora.

From the start, Yato hadn’t been the best father figure, guardian, or even master. But he tried. He got him clothes and what little scraps of food he could manage before asking Hiyori and later Kofuku and Daikoku for help. He complimented and praised him when he did well.

But he wasn’t very patient and despite the fact he could see Yukine falling apart in front of him, he did little to help. He used the excuse that he wanted to purposely let the situation get worse so Yukine would learn from it, but the truth was he just didn’t know how to handle it. With Hiyori’s intervention in the ablution and advice from others, he finally managed to start building a much stronger bond.

And considering how Yukine put his life on the line to protect him and stuck by his side ever since, despite his continued fuck ups, he supposed he had to have done something right along the way.

“Yukineeeee.” Yato wiggled across the floor and called his name in a loud whisper, “Wake up!”

The boy scrunched up his face and let out a small groan before peeking open one of his eyes, “What?”

“I think you’re hitting the books a little too hard.” He nodded towards the book in his regalia’s lap, “Maybe you should call a quits for the rest of the day.”

Yukine shook his head to wake himself up and quickly defended, “No way, Hiyori’s going to test me the day after tomorrow! And the only reason I’m tired is because you’re constantly talking in your sleep and keeping me up.” He sat up straighter and pulled his book back up to his face.

Yato let out a huff of air, “What do you say we take the day off after your test, then? You need to take a break with something. You’ve got too much going on.”

“You’re just using it as an excuse for you to be lazy.” The blonde glared over the top of his book.

“Nuh uh! I’m serious. We’ll do whatever you wanna do.” He sat up and moved to Yukine’s side, blinking his eyes and pouting, “C’mon, please!”

He lowered his book ever so slightly, asking in a low voice, “Seriously?”

Yato nodded eagerly, “One hundred percent!”

Yukine let out a small sigh and closed his book, relenting, “Okay.”

“Yayyyy!” The god immediately collected his hafuri into his arms and hugged him tightly, ignoring the cringe on the boy’s face, “It’s going to be the best father/son day ever!”

“Waaahhh!” He immediately let out a loud yell as Yato entangled himself around his torso. Twisting his body and pushing the god’s arms at full force, he yelled, “Get off of me! This is exactly why I avoid saying stuff like this to you. Don’t you think I suffer enough of your sweaty hands when we’re fighting phantoms!?” With a final strong shove, he finally managed to push him off.

Yato held his hands together and commented in an adoring tone, “So you don’t mind me calling you my kid after all. Just my hands; which, by the way, is a medical condition.”

Yukine flushed, “You named me so I guess I’m stuck with whatever you want to call me, to be honest. But by the same token, I can still call you Drippy.”

“Don’t be mean to me!” The god clutched his chest and wiped his eyes dramatically, “I just offered you the day off, remember!?”

“Yeah.” He lifted the book back up to his face and opened it, but Yato could see the small smile he hid behind it, “…Thanks.”

#noragami #repostober #Yato #Yukine #father and son #my writing

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oftarotandnoodledragons · 1 year ago

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The Renewal

Never, never rest contented with any circle of ideas, but always be certain that a wider one is still possible. -Richard Jefferies, The Story of My Heart

So here we are. The 78 Tarot cards, in whatever orientation they were set in my deck ten years ago to the day, have each been addressed, researched, discussed, and I sought to find the message that each one was telling me. Sometimes I saw it straight away. Other times, years would pass before it would occur to me. I feel like those years may not have always been necessary for revelation to come: had I applied myself sooner, then I would be further ahead and more experienced than I am now. The process of writing each card was supposed to only take a few months at best: I would have been done somewhere in the later half of 2013.

That's not what was in store for me, though, and now that I look back on it, I am thankful that I took the time. Over ten years ago, I feel like I was playing with matches. Potentially, I was playing with matches in a fireworks factory in some cases. It was always my goal to get through the deck and learn it. In the first instance, I was limited by time to get my notes made and thus I had a slapdash, slipshod notebook where I felt like I was pretending when the time come to divinate. In the second, I had the Sun-inspired revelation to make this blog and restart. And after the third, which is the one that took ten years, I feel like I have a better appreciation of the deck that the first two attempts would not have given me. I do recall that on the second run, the first card I drew was Temperance, and now I see that it was meant as an admonishment. The deck was telling me to take my time, to temper my enthusiasm, and to come at the cards with a maturity that I did not have when I first started.

Yet, these 78 cards have helped me grow as a person as well over the past decade. It confirmed that maybe university wasn't for me after all and that town planning was not where I was meant to be. It kept me focused and showed me problems from different angles and that I was on the right path to solve them. I am where I am now, and I feel like I now deserve the Tarot's guidance when it comes to other people not just because I've gone through the whole deck, but I've seen facets of how each member of the deck can apply, and thus I've gained a more intimate knowledge of each card. I have wisdom that I did not have. At the same time, I now have the temperance I lacked back when I was getting my toes wet. I'm no longer playing with matches. I'm hearthing the fire.

I have thanked the Tarot Nova deck, finger hooked with Azane, and now I have washed that deck. It feels liberating that, after all this time, I can use the cards again and not feel like I have to keep them in order, untouched, for the sake of my journey.

With the end of the journey I did make a few purchases. Tomorrow, my Tarot of Dragons deck arrives, along with the Star Dragons Oracle Deck. I am very much looking forward to using these decks for other people. Additionally, while I was at FWA a month ago, I came across the Foxes in Love deck, which I felt drawn to. That deck, though, doesn't exactly allow reversals, and a lot of the symbology present in other decks is not present: in a way, the simple representations form a sort of joke inspired by the meaning derived from RWS. And yet, as I held it in my hand today just after washing the Tarot Nova, I feel like I don't deserve to use it yet.

My journey through the deck took ten years and, as part of the process of running through the deck as it was shuffled on June 13, 2013, my observance of each card and its meanings was scattered. I had the meaning of the card in front of me, but not always its relationship to other cards.

That is now what I want to focus on with this blog. Oh yes, it's not going away, at least not just yet. It's all well and good to talk about the Six of Wands, but knowing that it's triumph after the disagreement of the Five of Wands, and correlates to the caritas of the Six of Pentacles or the period of respite of the Six of Swords, and also ties in to the harmony of The Lovers, is a much more useful thing to have. One can divinate with the Tarot one card at the time, but to see and feel the connections between cards is where the true power of Tarot lies. And then to apply that in a spread, and see the links, the reinforcing and diverging energies, is how one improves as a reader.

So, the plan from here is to cover the following things, though not necessarily in order:

The Fool's Journey: You can find a variation of this anywhere with any Tarot teacher, as it helps explain the Major Arcana. I feel like I would be going over very well-trod paths, but I feel it is my duty to explain the Fool's Journey using my perspective.

The Minor Arcana: As I've gone through my journey, I've learned that each suit, in its run from Ace to Ten, tells a story similar to the Fool's Journey. Over half of the deck is devoted to this component, and rather than have my very piecemeal entries explaining each card one by one, I want to synthesize it all into one location so that it can be seen all at once.

The Court Cards: Ooh boy, this one is a doozy. Like the Minor Arcana, this too ought to be seen in one place at one time. Not only that, I feel like this is my weakest area of the deck. I feel like I only have a partial understanding of these sixteen cards, so through combining them and making comparisons and drawing links my knowledge will improve.

The Celtic Cross Positions: As I've grown, I've learned that not everything has to be spread in this format. Indeed, I don't think I've yet seen a reader on YouTube use this spread. With that said, though, I like how comprehensive the spread is and allows explanation of an issue from ten different places. Like the cards themselves, the positions in this spread have nuances, and I want to be able to better master it.

On top of that, I may document some readings and other Tarot experiences in here.

So, like The World, I feel like I have graduated, the apprentice is now the journeyman, and the cycle begins anew: knowledge gained is applied as the World spins and I am taken to new places. The journey continues, for sure, but along different roads.

#the renewal

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taleweaver-ramblings · 1 year ago

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Finished at last! Thank you all for reading and for your patience. I have really appreciated all y'all's comments and reactions. They basically make my day. Hopefully you like the ending as much as the rest!

The Last Immortal of Evitra, Part 9

Dieudonné made no protest, but willingly turned and followed Anatole back. Once they’d returned, Anatole settled both children in their room with milk-and-honey tea, then retreated to his room to tend his wounds. His hand injury, he found, was already closed and scarred pink, and the others seemed half-healed. It seemed that the transformation from monster to man had sped along their recovery. Still, he applied salve to each wound, just to be safe.

Then he dressed again in clean clothes, and combed his hair and beard. The comb appeared in his hand the moment he began to search for it. He stared at himself in the mirror as he worked. The face that looked back at him was much the same as the one he’d last seen four hundred years ago. That wasn’t really a surprise; his appearance hadn’t changed beyond what he could control since sometime around his first half-century. Still, it was strange to see it again, strange to see himself looking like the man he’d been.

He left the mirror behind with a shake of his head and made his way to the children’s room. They’d nearly finished their tea when he arrived, but as he sank into an armchair, a fresh cup appeared on the small table beside him. As soon as he’d sat down, Aimée left her seat and tugged his sleeve. When he looked at her, she climbed up to sit on his leg and cling to his shirt again.

Well, this was better than her still fearing him because he wasn’t a monster. Anatole adjusted his position to be a little more comfortable, then spoke, “I am sorry for what happened today. I would have spared you that experience if I had the choice.”

“Sorry?” Dieudonné echoed. “You told Sacre-Berger Gauvain that he couldn’t hurt us anymore — and then you fought him so he couldn’t. No one’s ever done something like that before.”

“And I regret that as well.” Did the children know that Gauvain had tried to kill them? That his hatred was apparently such that he would rather see them dead than allow them a chance of a happy, peaceful life? “You are both certain that you’re all right?”

Dieudonné nodded, setting down his now-empty cup. “We’re all right. Really, we are. The bushes turned into a — a gate in front of us, I guess. They put branches and vines between us and the fight so we could only see some of what was going on and nothing could get to us. It went back when you pushed Sacre-Berger Gauvain into the hedge — when you were shouting about how things were yours.” He hesitated a moment. “What did you mean by that?”

“I am not plotting to take over Evitra, if that’s what you fear.” Anatole sighed wryly, leaning back in his seat and taking a sip of tea. “A friend once reminded me that I was put in this land to carry out certain duties, and I have neglected those duties for a very long time. People like Sacre-Berger Gauvain are, I fear, the result. The past months and especially today have convinced me that it is time I mended my mistakes.”

“So . . .” Dieudonné drew out the word, toying with the edge of the tablecloth. “We might see you again after we go to the city? You’d have to come there sometimes, wouldn’t you?”

“You might. Or . . .” Anatole paused with the question on the tip of his tongue. Should he? Could he? But if he didn’t ask now, he might never. “If you wish, you could stay here, with me as your guardian. It would be safer than the city, and I could continue teaching you what I know.”

Aimée looked up with eager eyes, but Dieudonné warily drew back into his seat. “How much longer would you let us stay?”

“As long as you wish — until you are as old as I am, if you so choose,” Anatole replied. Keeping his tone neutral was a fight almost harder than the one he’d had against Gauvain. “I am offering a place as my wards, not merely as my guests. As such, you would have the freedom of the house and grounds — save for those places which would be dangerous for children to wander — and I would see to your needs and education and whatever else should be necessary. And when the time comes, you would have a choice to . . .” How to explain? “Well, some are born immortals, and some are given the choice to become immortal. Let us leave it at that for now. You would remain welcome whatever you chose.”

Both still seemed to be listening, so he went on, “I am aware that I have not always been a gentle host, and that you may wish for better company than an old man like me. If you wish to take your chances in the city, I will take you there myself when next I go. But if you desire to stay . . .” He glanced down at Aimée in his lap. “Well. I would be pleased if you did.”

He half-expected an immediate refusal. But instead, Dieudonné shook himself as if trying to wake from a dream. “We — We could stay forever? With you?”

“That is what I offered, yes.” Anatole took a sip of his tea. “You need not decide at once, if you are uncertain. I can wait.”

Aimée tugged at his sleeve until she had his attention. “Can you still scare my dreams away?”

“I will do my best.” Anatole wrapped an arm around her. “Man or monster, I believe your dreams have reason to fear me.”

Aimée considered this, then leaned against him, resting her head just below his shoulder. “Then we have to stay.”

“Only if your brother agrees.” Anatole looked back to Dieudonné. “I will not separate you.”

“I don’t really want to go. I like it here.” Dieudonné slid off his seat and joined the two of them at Anatole’s chair. “Does this mean you’ll teach me magic someday?”

“When you’re old enough, if you still wish to learn, yes,” Anatole raised an eyebrow at Dieudonné. “But I warn you, I will be the one judging if you are old enough or not.”

“’S all right.” Dieudonné shrugged. “If you’re looking out for us, I can afford to wait.”

“So be it, then.” Anatole almost felt lightheaded again with relief — or perhaps he was still just getting used to the lack of horns. “I cannot promise you a perfect life. I have much work to do — as I said, I left my duty undone for far too long. But I promise you that I will do my best.” And perhaps, by the Three-in-One’s grace, that would be enough.

~~~

Five years later . . .

Anatole felt the ripples in the house-magics as the visitor passed the gate of the manor grounds. Even after all these years, he could tell who it was without having to trace the threads of enchantment or stretch out his awareness to see the emblem on her carriage. After all, she had once been his most frequent guest — if anything, he was surprised she hadn’t come sooner.

Aimée, who’d been sitting on the window seat of his upstairs study where he was currently working, dropped her knitting in a clatter of needles and scrambled into a kneeling position so she could peer out the window. “There’s a carriage in the courtyard, Papa!”

“So I am aware.” With luck, he could finish the last few lines of this letter before he went down to greet the carriage’s occupant and, in doing so, lost his train of thought. After an exhausting first year free of the curse, Anatole had decided that upholding his responsibilities shouldn’t mean constantly traveling — especially not when some of those responsibilities really meant he should be at home — but he paid for it with a blizzard of correspondence going to and from the manor.

He'd managed another sentence before the door to his study burst open to admit Dieudonné, coatless and red-faced from a recent run. “There’s someone outside — in a fine carriage. I don’t recognize the emblem. I didn’t think we were expecting visitors tonight! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was no more aware than you were.” One more sentence. Had he missed anything? Lord Périgord’s question was a common one — “I think there are Vrai Cœur sympathizers in my domain; what do I do?” — and Anatole had lost track of how many times he’d answered it. Enough times that he’d written a short volume on the major elements of the Vrai Cœur ideology, how to refute them, and how to approach those who held them. Once upon a time, he might have simply sent the man a copy of the book and washed his hands of the matter. These days, he tried to address each person who wrote to him individually, even if the advice he gave was largely the same each time.

Dieudonné joined his sister at the window. “There’s someone getting out of the carriage now! I don’t recognize her any more than her emblem.”

“She’s lovely,” Aimée gasped. “Papa, she looks like the pictures of Princess Arete in the storybooks.”

“There is a reason for that.” Anatole didn’t elaborate on what that reason might be; better to leave Aimée curious enough that she might ask herself. He surveyed the letter once more, added a closing and a signature, and set it aside. Then he stood. “Very well; let us go greet our guest before either of you burst. Dieudonné, where is your coat?”

Dieudonné glanced around hopefully, as if the missing garment might appear somewhere in Anatole’s study. “Er — I left it — somewhere.”

Somewhere. A look at Dieudonné’s ink-stained hands gave Anatole a good guess as to where. He gave a tug on the house-magics, and as he’d expected, the coat appeared in midair and fell atop Dieudonné. “Busy at the press again?”

“Yes.” Dieudonné shoved his arms into the sleeves of his coat. “Can we go to Renaud’s Printing next time we’re in the city? I want to look at their machines and see if I can make ours better.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Of course, it was anyone’s guess if Dieudonné would still wish to do so when they were next in the city. These days, he cycled through interests at an astonishing rate — through, to be fair, he always returned to bookbinding and printing at some point. Anatole didn’t complain; indulging Dieudonné’s mundane curiosity kept him from begging to learn magic every other month. Besides, Anatole had never put a reign on his own curiosity. Why should he do so with his son’s?

As Dieudonné buttoned his coat, Aimée slid off the window seat and hurried over to Anatole. He solemnly offered her his arm, which she took just as solemnly. Then they left the study and made their way downstairs, with Aimée skipping alongside Anatole, her skirts and curls bouncing, and Dieudonné following just behind.

As they stepped into the courtyard, Anatole’s gaze went straight to their guest. Morgana’s dress and hair were both styled in the latest Caemlyn fashion, but otherwise, she’d changed not at all from how Anatole remembered her. He bowed in greeting. “Welcome. Are you still Morgana, or should I call you another name?”

“I answer to Blodwyn most often now, but I would be glad if you called me Morgana still,” she replied. “And what of you — Judicaël?”

“I prefer Anatole, but for the sake of our friendship, you can call me what you wish.” Anatole gestured first to Dieudonné, then Aimée. “These are Dieudonné and Aimée. Dieudonné and Aimée, this is Lady . . .” He paused, realizing he no longer knew Morgana’s proper full name, and settled for an abbreviated version. “Lady Blodwyn Morgana Admetus.”

Aimée dipped a curtsey that showed she’d been practicing. She still clung to Anatole’s arm, but she stayed at his side rather than edging behind him — definite progress. Dieudonné, meanwhile, made a quick bow and then regarded Morgana with new interest. “Are you the Morgana?”

“I imagine I am, though I hardly expected to find myself infamous when I arrived.” Morgana raised both eyebrows at Anatole. “What have you told these children about me?”

“Nothing but the truth,” Anatole replied, keeping his expression serious. “I’m surprised I haven’t seen you sooner. I half-thought you would appear the same day your curse ended.”

“It wasn’t a curse. Merely an enchantment meant to teach a hard lesson — which you seem to have learned,” Morgana replied, lightly. “On my way, I have heard a great deal about how busy you’ve been these last five years. As I understand, you’ve managed to almost singlehandedly turn the Vrai Cœur from the object of everyone’s fascination to Evitra’s greatest shame.”

Anatole inclined his head slightly. “I had, and still have, much time to make up for. But you still have not told me what kept you.”

“Well, I intended visit sooner, but I can hardly leave Caemlyn when it’s in the middle of a civil war.” Morgana’s lips twitched. “To be frank, I didn’t realize at first that it was your enchantment that had released. I half-expected that you would remain a monster until the world ended or one of us died.”

“I might have.” Anatole couldn’t deny that, especially not with the benefit of hindsight. “But the Three-in-One had other plans, as you can see.”

“So He did.” Morgana addressed Dieudonné and Aimée. “And I may guess that you had something to do with it.”

Dieudonné grinned wickedly, pushing hair back from his face. “We snuck into his house and he couldn’t get rid of us for months.”

“That is one way to put it.” Anatole shook his head. “That is a topic for dinner tonight. In the meantime, your usual room is prepared if you want to freshen up or rest after your journey.”

“I would appreciate that.” Morgana started for the doors, and Anatole felt the tug on the house-magics as she tried and failed to open them. She tried a second time, then turned to face him once more. “I see that you’ve taken precautions.”

There was no malice in her tone, only amusement, and so Anatole replied in kind, “I learned many things from our last meeting.” With an entirely unnecessary wave of his hand, he swung the double doors open.

“I can tell.” Morgana started once more for the doors. “And I look forward to hearing all about it.”

~~~Finis~~~

~~~~~~~~~~

Additional fun facts for those curious:

Aimée started calling Anatole Papa between six months and a year after he took her and Dieudonné in. The first time she did it, it caught him very off-guard. He managed to keep it together just long enough to finish what he was doing with them, and then he had to go lock himself in his (borrowed, because they were traveling) room and briefly melt.

Dieudonné will also call Anatole Papa or Père (which is more formal); it just didn't happen on the page.

The method for an immortal to pass on/share his immortal nature with a spouse or adopted child requires the person to be over a certain age (except in emergency situations), so neither Dieudonné nor Aimée have done that yet, but both intend to as soon as they're old enough.

If you want to know other stuff, I will happily answer.

Inklings Challenge 2023: The Last Immortal of Evitra

'Tis the deadline day for the Inklings Challenge (@inklings-challenge), and I have not finished my story, but today is also Ren Faire day, and I will therefore not be able to finish today . . . but it's a long story that I'll have to post in multiple parts anyway, so have part one now, and I'll post the rest over the next week.

Also, in classic Taleweaver fashion, this is a fairy tale retelling. Which fairy tale should be fairly obvious. It is not, however, a romance.

Unedited; please be nice about typos.

~~~~~

The Last Immortal of Evitra, Part 1

Anatole Bérenger Judicaël Télesphore Corentin, lord of Blackrose Manor, last immortal of Evitra, woke to the sound of a child crying.

He let out a quiet growl as he reoriented himself to his surroundings. He’d dozed off in his study, it seemed. The last he remembered, the sun had been just at the top edge of the tall windows. Now it was gone, and the whole room was drenched in black shadows — though, of course, shadows had hidden nothing from him for the last four hundred years.

Anatole stirred and stretched, tracing the sound down the threads of magic that carried it. The child wasn’t within the manor house itself, thankfully, but it was concerningly close. Behind the stables, if Anatole read the magic aright. What it was doing there, he could guess, and the thought made him growl again. It had been a long, long time since small boys dared their friends to creep up to his home and spend ten minutes within his gates. If the practice was starting up again . . . well. It might require him to go down to the town again for the first time in decades.

Unless, of course, he could put a stop to it now. Anatole took his cloak from its hook by the door and swept it around his shoulders. Then he stalked from his study, through the halls to a side door, and out into the night.

By the time he found the child, it had stopped crying and moved inside the stables. There were no horses there anymore, nor even any hay — Anatole had no need for such things these days. But in the back, in a corner of the very last stall, there was a small boy, curled up and shivering with his eyes shut and hands balled into the ragged sleeves of his much-mended shirt.

Anatole stepped into the stall, making sure to leave space in the doorway, and growled again, low and menacing. “Boy. Leave my home or face the consequences.”

The boy startled, and his eyes flew open. Anatole knew well what the boy saw. His cursed form was a work of art, he had to admit — curving horns and red eyes and sharp fangs and claws all sharp and distinct and gleaming even without light, and the rest of him a hulking beast of shadows with just enough substance to resolve into one’s worst nightmares. It was a form to make the bravest of men turn and run.

But rather than fleeing, the boy pressed himself more firmly into his corner. “No. I’m not scared of you, demon.” His voice strongly suggested otherwise. “Oúte o thánatos, oúte i zoí, oúte ángeloi, oúte igemoníes, oúte oi dynámas —”

“Oúte oi dynámeis,” Anatole snapped. “If you’re going to threaten demons with the Holy Writ, boy, you’d better say it correctly. Fortunately for you, I am not a demon. But I am a monster.” He bared his teeth further and growled again. “Now, begone. Go home.”

“Don’t have a home.” The boy’s hands scrabbled on the floor as if searching for a crack or crevice to hold onto. “You’ve got the whole house and all the land. You can spare a corner for the night.”

“If you have no home, then get yourself to the orphanage. I understand that’s what it’s there for.” Anatole pointed out the door. “Go.”

“Won’t.” The boy, finding no handholds, crossed his arms and shut his eyes. “Go away, monster. You’re probably a bad dream anyway.”

How dare the boy defy him! How dare he!

Anatole felt the enchantments woven into every inch of the estate swell in response to his wrath. They didn’t anticipate his need the way they once would have — the curse ensured that — but they would answer swift enough if he called upon them. He could have this boy ejected and back on the road in moments, and in the morning he could add another layer of spellwork to more effectively discourage trespassers.

But it was full night, the town was well over a mile away, and there were wolves in these woods. Sending the boy out on his own would be a shade too close to outright murder for Anatole’s taste. So, with a sigh, he reached down, grabbed the boy, and slung him over his shoulder. Then he turned and trudged back towards the main house.

The boy thrashed and struggled to get free. “Let me go! Put me down, monster!”

“No.” Anatole shoved open the side door, stepped through, and then paused to lock it behind them. “If you’re spending the night on my estate, you’ll do it where I can keep an eye on you.”

The boy continued to wriggle and protest as Anatole made his way swiftly to one of the smaller guest chambers. There, with much relief, he dropped the boy onto the couch. No dust rose — cleaning spells were child’s play, and Anatole had spent his first week of isolation laying multiple in every room. But somehow, the cushions still managed to let off an air of long disuse.

Anatole took a step back. “You’ll sleep here and then leave in the morning.” Now that he’d brought the boy inside, the long-practiced rules of hospitality gripped him like an instinct. “Are you hungry?”

The boy eyed him with suspicion, but gave a tight little nod. Anatole shut his eyes, probing his awareness of the house to check what he had to offer. Apples, cold turkey left from his dinner, cheese — that would do. A few commands and a plate appeared on the low table beside the couch, along with a sturdy mug of water. Anatole opened his eyes again. “Eat.”

The boy poked at the apple suspiciously — rude of him, as Anatole had even gone to the trouble of having it sliced. “Is this fairy food?”

“I have no interest in trapping you in my home.” Anatole resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “I summoned it by magic, but the food is real.”

The boy picked up an apple slice, tasted it, and seemed to approve. “Are you planning to eat me?”

“There’s not enough meat on your bones to be worth the effort.” Anatole turned. “Eat, sleep, and be gone in the morning. I will come to this room at ten o’clock, and if you are not gone, I will remove you myself — and should you return, I may rethink eating you.” He waited to hear no further protests, but rather stalked out of the room, shutting the door behind him. As an afterthought, he locked it, laying a small spell so it would unlock again only after the boy had slept, and sent a command through the estate to close and lock all other doors and to only let them open at his own touch, or if they were necessary to let the boy out in the morning. With that, he made his way to his own bed and fell into a light slumber.

At half-past seven the next morning, he roused as he sensed the boy scurrying out the same side door they’d entered through the night before. Anatole remained awake until he felt the boy vanish off the edge of the estate. Then, satisfied, he drifted back into deeper sleep. He had done his duty; no one could argue that. And now the boy was gone and, with any luck, the threat of being eaten would be enough to keep others away for another hundred years or so.

~~~

Three days passed peacefully, and the fourth dawned cold, grey, and threatening either rain or snow. Anatole had decided some centuries ago that, on such days, resisting the urge to hibernate like the bear he somewhat resembled was far more trouble than it was worth. So, he spent most of the day in the library, alternately napping and listening as a speaker-spell read a book to him, stirring only when hunger made it necessary to summon a meal.

He was just waking from one of these naps when he felt a clumsy tug on the estate’s magic. Immediately, he shook himself, reaching out to see who or what dared try to use his power.

Once again, there was a child at the other end of the disturbance. The same one as before, if Anatole wasn’t mistaken. And there was another with him, smaller than he. Anatole growled, extracting himself from his blankets. Apparently, he’d been too kind to the boy last time. He would not make the same mistake again.

Outside, the sky had resolved into a storm of wind and driving rain and occasional flashes of lightning. Anatole trudged onward all the same, following the periodic tugs in his web of enchantment. A curse and a pox on the boy for choosing this day of all days to come back! And he was further from the main house this time, all the way out in the gamekeeper’s cottage — even longer disused than the rest of the estate’s outbuildings.

The door was locked, but it opened at his touch. The floorboards creaked beneath his feet as he swept inside, drawing himself up to his full height so he nearly touched the ceiling. “I told you not to return.”

The boy — indeed the same one as last time — looked up with wide eyes. He scrambled to his feet, darting in front of the other child. “What d’you care? You’ve got all this space and no one to live in it. We’re not hurting anything. I didn’t come anywhere near your house this time.”

“I care very much when someone trespasses on my property and tries to use my power for his own.” Anatole peered past the boy at the second child: a little girl, perhaps half the boy’s age, yellow-haired and thin-cheeked. “And you should know better than to wander into a monster’s den.”

“There’s monsters everywhere. You aren’t special.” The boy glanced behind him, and his shoulders sagged a little. “One night, Seigneur, please. Then we’ll leave. I promise. We’ll leave and we won’t come back.”

Anatole considered — but the rain and wind outside left him no choice. “I will hold you to that promise.” He turned. “Come.”

The two followed, straggling along behind him, the boy carrying a small bundle on his shoulder and helping the girl along with his free hand. However, after ten minutes, in which Anatole had to stop and wait five separate times for the children to catch up, he turned and simply scooped up both, ignoring their panicked protests. They were light as feathers, both of them — lighter than they ought to be, but perhaps that was merely the greater strength of his current form. Or perhaps he was misremembering. It had been many, many centuries since he’d had reason to carry a child.

He didn’t set the two back down until he’d reached the small guest room where he’d let the boy stay last time. There, he deposited both children onto the couch and once again summoned a platter of food: two bowls of the thick rabbit stew he’d started earlier that day for his dinner, cold flatbread rounds left from lunch, soft cheese, and juicy pears. This time, he very deliberately chose to materialize it on the table by the fireplace. “The food will stay warm until you eat it, at which point you will take care not to make a mess. You will remain in this room, the adjoining one, or the connected bathing chamber until after dawn tomorrow, and you will leave no later than ten o’clock. At no point will you disturb me. Is this understood?”

The girl just stared, but the boy nodded. “I understand. We’ll do as you say.”

“Good.” Anatole stalked from the room — but, to his surprise, the boy followed him out. “What did I say to you a moment ago?”

“I need to ask you something, sir.” The boy held his head up, dropping his tone. “If you eat one of us, make it me. Not Aimée. I’m the one who brought her here. And can you make sure she goes somewhere aside from the orphanage when you send her away?”

Anatole cast a cold glance at the boy. “The two of you together wouldn’t make as much meat as the rabbit I put in tonight’s stew. You may attend to the girl’s fate yourself when you both leave in the morning.”

“Thank you, Seigneur.” There was a bitter note in the boy’s voice, no doubt at the fact that he had to express gratitude for not being eaten. “We’ll not disturb you.”

He disappeared back into the room, and Anatole strode hastily away, working a belated drying-spell to pull the water from his cloak, clothes, and form. One night more. Then these two would be out of his hair and, with any luck, far, far away.

#and that's everything!#hope y'all enjoyed #I know I enjoyed writing it #even if it took up WAY more time than I intended it to #inklingschallenge #inklings challenge #the last immortal of evitra #theme: shelter #theme: food #team tolkien #taleweaver writes #story: finished #(FINALLY)

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skiller0dani · 3 years ago

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Old Prison Blues | Spencer Reid

M A S T E R L I S T Criminal Minds Masterlist

smut | dom!spencer x bau!reader requests info w.c | 7.2k summary | when your husband Spencer gets released from Prison, he's much different then you remember.

I have it so bad for this man, enjoy! Also guys this piece made butterflies squirm in my belly lmao this one is so HOT it made me blush. Guys, it made me B L U S H. I need to go dunk myself in holy water to atone for this SIN. (just kidding lmao I'm agnostic).

you can see his bulge in this gif and I can't stop admiring looking at it.

When you were in college you'd been an undergraduate in Criminal Justice, so you were familiar with the effects Prison has on the psyche. In other words, you knew Spencer would come back different. No person could pass through Prison unscathed and frankly you'd be more concerned if he came back and nothing had changed at all. At home, he seemed to be relatively okay, and those 6 mandatory weeks of break had allowed him the rest he deserved. Nothing exciting had happened during those weeks, the only thing you did was curl up on the couch next to him and watch movies. You'd made up for all those weeks in Prison during the evenings when you would cling to him and cry out his name in ecstasy.

Spencer really did seem to be fine, until you returned to work. That's when you started to see all the ways Prison had hardened him.

At first, it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. If you were someone who knew Spencer well then you knew that he wasn't a man who was confident in his looks. When you and Spencer first got married he was insecure, and would be discouraged when you hung out with other guys. You wouldn't say he was jealous because jealously in itself requires a certain amount of anger. But when Spencer saw you around other men he wasn't angry, he was sad. Absolutely convinced you were going to leave him any second, despite you telling him you married him because you love him. Deep down, he always thought somebody would steal you from him even though you consistently reminded him how much you love him. That's just the kind of guy Spencer is.

Or, was.

The darkness that brews in Prison, the violent hatred, the anger seems to have followed Spencer to freedom. It has made a home in his chest, and while you're not worried about Spencer flying off the deep end and shooting an innocent, the anger reveals itself in much more subtle ways. It's in the way he clenches his jaw when he can't figure something out, or the blanching of his knuckles as he grips the steering wheel with a crushing force, it's the agitation in his eyes when he watches Alvez's knuckles brush against your lower back for the 3rd time since you two had arrived at the office this morning. The anger has adapted to civilian life like Spencer has, it's learned. It's subtle. Unfortunately you know Spencer almost better then he knows himself, you can tell when something is bothering him.

You slide your hands over his shoulders, and much to your surprise you feel him tense.

"You okay?" You know it's a stupid question, but you have to ask.

"Yeah, fine." Spencer's tone is clipped, shoulders rigid, back straight. Something is definitely bothering him. You squeeze his shoulders and begin to work at the tightened muscles, slowly easing them to relax. The tension flows out of him as he relaxes back in his desk chair, the frustration ebbing away slightly when his eyes catch your wedding ring. The object that binds you to him.

"Don't shut me out." You whisper, a soft plea in your voice. Spencer's heart wretches when he hears the fear in your tone, and one of his hands comes up to catch yours. He presses a chaste kiss to one of your knuckles before swiveling around to face you. You always find a way to soothe the violent, raging beast inside of him. Spencer's hands find your hips as he turns his gaze up to look at you.

"You're right I'm sorry. Just tense today." He says softly, and while there is a little lie to his words, his statement remains mostly the truth. He just leaves out the part where he pictures enacting varying forms of violence on Luke Alvez. The man who keeps unnecessarily touching his wife. You lean down to press a kiss to his forehead, your head snapping up when Garcia calls from the conference room.

"Got a case folks, and it's an ugly one." Her nose scrunches up into a frown before she turns into the room. You pull away from Spencer, yanking him to his feet by his hand. Luke sends you a playful wink as he trots up the stairs, and while you don't necessarily react to it, it still puts Spencer on edge. Deep down Spencer always knew you were way out of his league, but that never became clearer then when you came to visit him in Prison.

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

You were trembling as you lowered yourself into the chair. Dried tears were on your cheeks, and you haven't even seen Spencer yet. The last time you saw him was a few weeks prior after he first got back from Mexico. Seeing his wrists bound in those metal handcuffs had broken your heart in a way you never anticipated. You wrung your hands together, luckily when Penelope had made the visitation Chart she scheduled you as the first person to come see him. The plastic chair was uncomfortable, but what was worse was the plastic guard separating you from Spencer. The clock ticked loudly, it was clearly mocking you. Reminding you of the seconds you were losing with Spencer, reminding you of all the seconds he was spending in Prison.

When you hear the buzzer scream loudly, you nearly come out of your seat you're so excited to see him. You and Spencer got married back in 2005, and you've never been separated from him for longer then a week. It's been over a month now, and each day he's not with you leaves a bigger hole in your chest. You watch him follow the other prisoners out, and the handcuffs around his wrists breaks your heart. His eyes light up the second he sees you, he nearly shoves the other guy over to get to you faster. There are tears in your eyes as Spencer's wrists are released from the cuffs from the guard standing nearby.

"Hey baby." Spencer says softly as he takes his seat across from you. All you want is to reach across the stupid barrier and touch him, hold his hand, anything. But you know the guards will punish him if he does, but being this close to him without being able to hold him is absolutely killing you. You try to blink the tears out of your eyes so that Spencer won't see, but it's all too much. Seeing him in a jumpsuit, with cuff bruises around his wrists, having to sleep in the same building as murderers. The first tear falls and you immediately look away from him.

"Please don't cry." Spencer begs softly. "I'm okay, really."

You wipe your tears before you look back up at him, digging around in your bag for a gift from Henry. You smile when you see the happiness cross onto his face as you pull the piece of paper out.

"Henry drew this for you, it's from when you guys went to the park." You hold it up for him to see and you try to fight another onslaught of tears when you see his eyes misting.

"You know, when I get out of here we should have one." Spencer says it so casually, you almost miss it. Your eyes nearly pop out of your head as you carefully lower the drawing.

"You want to try for a baby?" You can't hide the smile, and you see Spencer's eyes shine for the first time since he's been in here.

"Yeah, I want to have a baby with you." You and Spencer had a brief conversation about kids a few years ago, and you knew Spencer wasn't ready for it back then. His Father ran out on him and Diana when Spencer was just a kid, it made Spencer insecure about the type of Father he would end up being. In Spencer's mind, a fatherless man would never make a good Father. But it seems he's changed his mind. You had no issues agreeing to wait before you had kids until he was ready, you always knew Spencer would be a fantastic Father.

Suddenly from Spencer's right you hear a low wolf whistle. The tenderness that was on Spencer's face is instantly wiped away. His expression tenses, his jaw clenching as he turns his gaze to a large burly looking man covered in tattoos. The man sitting across from him, the one who was visiting, looked similar. Both of the biker looking men were eyeing me hungrily, it made my skin crawl.

"Something I can help you with?" Spencer asks, his voice tense. The tension in the room grows tenfold, and you fight the instinct to try and scoot closer to Spencer. The Biker looks Spencer in the eyes, a taunting smile on his face.

"That your sister?"

"Wife." Spencer snaps instantly.

"Your wife?" The Biker says incrediously, Spencer raises a brow, daring him to continue. "There's no way a woman with an ass that tight would marry a man as scrawny as you."

You expected to see insecurity flash in Spencer's eyes, instead all you saw was rage. Unbridled, violent rage.

"Choose your next words carefully." Spencer's voice was low, and as sharp as the edge of a blade. You almost didn't recognize him. The Biker leaned forward, fueled only by the knowledge that he was getting under Spencer's skin.

"She as tight as she looks? If I wasn't locked up, I'd fuck her so good she wouldn't even remember what your little pecker feels like."

Spencer's jaw clenches, and his fists curl tightly. The Biker is about 2 words away from a broken nose.

"Baby just let it go." You plead, and normally you don't really use pet names in public but right now you needed to show him that you're his.

"I'll tell you what Klein, I'll fuck her for you and tell you how it felt." The other man says, the man visiting. Upon hearing the words come out of his mouth, Spencer is shoving up from the chair but almost instantly a guard is tightly gripping Spencer's shirt and shoving him back into the chair. Spencer is fuming, and there's nothing you can do to calm him down.

"If you so much as lay a finger on her, your friend here will be dead before you can have another visit." Spencer hisses, and the two large men chuckle.

Spencer instantly took you off the visitors list, and while that felt like a blow to your heart you understood why. You didn't want to stress him out by visiting him.

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

So, yeah, Spencer knew you were out of his league and when Luke pulled your chair out for you at the table before he had the chance to, it made his blood boil. Why is Luke trying to take care of you? Doesn't he know that Spencer has been released from Prison? You don't need anybody else to take care of you, your husband is more than capable of doing it himself. When Spencer sat down in the chair next to you, he rested one hand on your thigh. You're only slightly surprised, normally Spencer isn't this 'handsy' in public, but in recent weeks he's been more assertive around other men.

"The body of 23 year old Cassandra Richardson was found 2 weeks ago in Lincoln, Nebraska. Her body was mutilated and showed signs of sexual assault. Yesterday another body, 20 year old Francesca Williams was found around the same warehouse district with similar wounds to the first victim." Penelope rushes the words out, almost as though saying them pains her. Various images show on the screen of the two victims, both bloodied and battered.

"Other than similar injuries, what makes the local police think it's the same unsub?" Luke asks, his eyes flickering towards you for the briefest second. While Spencer was locked away, Luke became a shoulder to cry on. Normally when you were upset and Spencer wasn't around, you'd talk to Derek. But since he's been gone you've felt more isolated then you normally do. Luke had found you crying one morning before you had taken off, and ever since he's had an "older brother" protection over you.

"A tattoo on both of the victims thighs, the words 'temerata virginem' which is Latin for 'desecrated virgin'." With the click of a button on her remote, Penelope pulls up a photo of the tattoos. The lines are shaky, although they stay mostly straight.

"It almost looks professional, except the lines aren't perfectly straight. A professional would make the line work perfect." JJ says, examining the photo closer in the folder each of you received. You turn your gaze to Spencer when you feel his hand leave your thigh to examine the photo closer. You could practically see the gears turning in that beautiful mind of his.

"It's possible an outside source is causing a tremble in the unsubs hands, if he is a professional tattoo artist." Spencer mumbles, almost to himself. Sometimes when he's in deep concentration, he nearly forgets other people are in the room with him.

"Could be drugs-" Luke starts but is sharply cut off.

"Actually it's more likely to be alcohol, withdraw from other drugs would be too severe to operate the tattoo machine." Spencer snaps, causing a few heads to turn and look at him. Maybe under other circumstances someone would say something to him, but since Spencer got released from Prison only a few weeks ago, nobody says anything. Luke's eyebrows furrow together as he shoots Spencer a confused look, one Spencer chooses to ignore as his hand returns to your thigh. Spencer knows he's acting like a jerk but he can't help it, Luke needs to know who you belong to. Spencer had everything taken from him in Prison, he won't let anyone take you from him too.

"We've been personally asked by the local police to assist, so wheels up in 30." Emily concludes, shooting one more look at Spencer before everybody rises.

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The tension on the jet is thick, you're absolutely sure everybody can feel it. Hardly anyone has interacted with Spencer, except to ask him a question about the case. You sit back against the couch, Luke sitting in one of the chairs at the table, and Spencer sitting on the arm of the chair next to you. In your hand was a nearly empty cup of coffee, and just as you move to refill, Luke rises with his own empty cup.

"Need a refill?" He asks, offering you a friendly smile.

"Yeah actually-"

"I got it." Spencer says abruptly, standing from where he was sitting. His eyes meet Luke's, silently challenging him. You try to be understanding, but you can't help but feel annoyed at Spencer. If he was acting like this to some random guy then that's one thing, but this is Luke. He's your friend, he's Spencer's friend. Luke, and the rest of the team, put everything on the line to free Spencer from Prison.

"It's cool man, I can do it-" Luke offers again, but Spencer isn't having it.

"I said I got it." Spencer reaches his hand out for your mug, which you instantly give to him. His eyes don't leave Luke's until he turns around and heads to the back of the jet to refill your coffee. Luke pauses for a few seconds, his eyes meeting yours and mirroring the same look of concern before he heads for the coffee pot as well. Luke isn't even upset by how Spencer is treating him, he- like everyone else, is worried about Spencer's psyche.

"What is going on with Spencer?" JJ whispers once she's sure Spencer is out of earshot. You shrug, your worried eyes landing on your husband. His posture is tense, almost defensive.

"Well can you blame him? In Prison, everything that's yours can and will be stolen by the other male inmates. Now that he's free, Spencer is being protective of his wife, someone that is his and can be taken by other men." Rossi says, always naturally a tad protective of Spencer.

"There isn't a man on this planet that would make me leave Spencer." You say defensively, although you know Rossi didn't mean anything by what he said.

"That might be obvious to you, but not to Spencer." JJ says, eyeing Spencer standing back near the coffee machine.

"Doing okay man?" Luke asks hesitantly as he moves to stand next to Spencer.

"Yep." Spencer says shortly, waiting for the pot to brew. Luke feels the tension rolling off Spencer in waves, and it's all being directed at him and he's not sure why.

"Look, if I've done something to upset you, just talk to me about it Reid." Luke's voice is gentle, understanding. Spencer's jaw clenches again as the pot finishes brewing and he refreshes your cup before reaching for the creamer.

"I'm fine Alvez. Really." Spencer says again, but Luke isn't willing to let this go yet.

"No Reid, you're not-"

"Stop flirting with my wife." Spencer's tone is firm, and the look in his eyes tells Luke just how on edge Spencer is.

"You got it." Luke agrees instantly, even though he was never flirting with you. But he knows that right now arguing with Spencer will only make things worse. Seemingly satisfied with Luke's answer, Spencer carries your cup back you, slinging an arm around you.

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Spencer twists his wedding ring around his ring finger, something he does when he's stressed out or tense. You're currently sat in the interrogation room with the male suspect, a tattoo artist attending AA meetings, the tattoo on the first victim was the shakiest because he had just quit drinking. The other, more recent, victims tattoo's were more steady. The longer he stayed sober, the more his trembling faded. In Spencer's other palm is your wedding ring, you fit the physical preference of this killer perfectly, but he only went after single women. Emily thought sending somebody in fitting his victimology would throw him off enough to say something incriminating. In order for the rouse to work, you needed to appear single- meaning the wedding ring had to come off. The thought didn't settle well in Spencer's gut.

"You have to relax." JJ said suddenly from Spencer's right. He nearly ignored her but his frayed nerves were beginning to eat at him.

"I can't. Do you see the way he's looking at her?" Spencer was pacing back and forth in front of the one way glass like a caged animal, unable to take his eyes off of the train wreck happening in front of him.

"She can handle herself Spence." JJ insists gently, almost using a motherly tone to talk to him.

"She's mine!" And suddenly the crux of the issue comes to light, and Spencer pinches the bridge of his nose, releasing a heavy breath. JJ thinks about her words carefully, trying to find something to say that will calm him at least a little.

"Yeah, and nothing is going to change that Spencer. You need to relax, and you have to trust her. You're not in Prison anymore, nobody is going to take her from you." JJ says, looking him in the eyes. Suddenly the sound of metal screeching across a concrete floor sounds from behind Spencer and when he turns around, his blood boils hot in his veins. The suspect, Alan Baker, has shoved out of his chair and has started towards you.

"Spencer-" JJ's voice is distant, and comes too late. Spencer isn't listening to her anymore when his fist curls around the door handle and he nearly rips it off its hinges.

"You need to step back." Spencer snaps, reaching for his gun as Alan Baker backs you into the corner of the interrogation room. You weren't ever truly afraid, you could have handled Alan. Slowly, Alan backs away from you and Spencer instantly reaches for you. He leads you out of the room with a gentle but firm hand on your back. Once you're out of the interrogation room you turn to Spencer.

"What the hell? I could have dealt with him!" You insist, frustration laced in your tone. At this point JJ silently slips out of the room, giving you and Spencer some much needed privacy. Spencer crosses his arms as he leans back against the one way mirror.

"You didn't need to, I did." Spencer huffs and you seriously resist the urge to throw something at him.

"What is your problem today? You could have compromised my entire interrogation, he's never going to tell me anything now!" You snap, anger pinching at your features.

"Good! Now you have no reason to talk to him again." Spencer snaps back, can't you see that he's just protecting what's his?

"Spencer we're trying to save somebody! You're being selfish!" You say to him angrily, trying your best not to start yelling at him. Spencer's selfish possessiveness over you could have just ruined your entire investigation.

"This is why the Bureau was hesitant to reinstate you. They were scared you wouldn't be able to control yourself." You snap at him, crossing your arms.

"Are you saying they made a mistake?" Spencer asks incrediously, suddenly becoming defensive.

"Maybe they did. Because you're acting like an asshole right now. You've been a jerk to Luke the entire day when he busted his ass to help get you out of Prison and back to me! Since when have you not trusted me during an interrogation? What did you think was going to happen? That I was going to let him touch me? I thought you trusted me." You cry out, tears filling your eyes now. Spencer didn't say anything as you turned for the door, anger still laced in his features.

"This has nothing to do with me not trusting you-"

"If you don't trust me, then maybe you should just hold onto my wedding ring for a while. I don't want it." You snap quietly, and you regret the words the second they leave your lips. No matter how mad he makes you, you'd never leave Spencer. You watch Spencer's expression shift from anger to...hurt. He watches silently as you slam the door behind you. Prison has turned him into somebody he isn't, and Spencer doesn't know how to turn off this part of his brain. The part telling him that you belong to him, and that he needs to protect what's his.

Rossi catches the sight of your tear stained cheeks as you move back towards the kitchen in the precinct. You wipe your tears as he comes to stand beside you, and the look on his face tells you that he overheard your fight with Spencer. Rossi bumps you with his elbow gently, a small smile on his face.

"You don't look okay." He says softly and you let out a self-depreciating laugh.

"I'm not. I don't know how to help Spencer, he doesn't trust me." You say sadly, your heart breaking in your chest.

"It's not you he doesn't trust, it's other men." Rossi clarifies, although it does little to ease the pain. You reach up to brush your hair behind your ear when Rossi catches your hand, examining your ring finger.

"Where's your wedding ring?"

"Told Spencer I didn't want it." The words are laced with heavy regret, and when you remember the look on his face when you said it you almost start to cry again. Rossi wraps an arm around you, and you lean your head on his shoulder.

"Deep down, he knows you didn't mean it." He tries to reassure you.

"That's the problem, he probably thinks I meant it."

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Normally it only takes you and Spencer a few hours to smooth things over after a fight. But this time, it's been nearly 3 hours and you haven't spoken a word to each other. You're both working on searching through Alan Baker's financial records without speaking at all. Neither of you have said anything, and Spencer still has your wedding ring. You desperately want it back, but you don't know how to start that conversation. You're angry about how he's been treating everybody, and you feel like asking for your ring is accepting defeat. You're not ready to accept defeat. When Emily comes into the room, her eyes settle on the two of you.

"Okay, what's going on with you guys?" Her arms are crossed.

"Nothing." The word comes from both yours and Spencer's mouths at the same time, and you say it far too quickly. Emily raises one brow at the two of you before closing the door behind her.

"Alright I'm going to have to be a boss now. We are not going to lock this guy away if the two of you are fighting. We need everybody on their A-game. Fix it. Now, and I mean right now." She says, leaving the room but closing the door behind her. There's a suffocating silence that fills the room, both you and Spencer too stubborn to speak first. But you can't take it, you hate it when he's mad at you. You hate it when you guys fight, which isn't often but it does happen occasionally.

"I didn't mean it." You whisper, leaning on the table, facing away from him. Spencer doesn't say anything but you know he's listening.

"I didn't mean it Spencer, I want my ring." He'd be lying if he said he wasn't relieved to hear you say that, his entire world crashed down around him the second you told him to keep the ring. The irrational part of his brain told him you were going to divorce him.

"Can I please have it back?" You ask, barely turning your head to look at him. With a huff Spencer pushes away from the table to move in front of you. His eyes are focused on your hand, he has yet to look at you. Spencer fishes around in his pocket before he finds your ring and gently slides it onto your ring finger.

"You have to stop glaring at any man that gets to close to me, especially Luke." You tell him, but he continues to look away from you. Spencer pushes past you to stand near the windows, his back facing you. The thing about Spencer is that he's stubborn, really stubborn. You take a few steps towards him, nibbling on your lower lip.

"I love you Spencer, I'm sorry. I was an ass, but you acted like an ass too." You tell him, but Spencer only turns his head further away from you. You move to stand in front of him, but his eyes turn to the ground and his arms are crossed tightly. Seriously?

"Please talk to me Spencer, tell me what's going on." You can see the frustration laced in his features, there's something on the tip of his tongue that he needs to say.

"Spencer."

"After you left from your visit, do you know why I didn't let you come back?" Spencer snaps, his hands finding your shoulders to yank your body against his. Your chest collides with his and suddenly you feel a dampness building between your legs. You instantly turn to putty in his hands.

"I didn't let you come back because that asshole told everybody about you. Told everybody what a tight little body you have. Soon the entire cell block was fantasizing about my 'sexy wife'. Do you have any idea what it's like to listen to men constantly talk about fucking your wife?" Spencer's voice is tense, but you can see it. The lust building behind his eyes, the frustration, and the fear of losing you simmering underneath it all.

"N-No." Your voice is breathy, and your eyes are lidded as Spencer's hands slide up your arms to your shoulders.

"It's fucking hell Y/N. Every time I see any man look at you I want to rip his eyes out, and I can't turn it off. I've tried, and the way that Alvez looks at you- it drives me fucking crazy." Spencer snaps, the anger building by the second. Your entire body begins to hum with an intense need, and Spencer can see it in your eyes. Spencer releases you then and he turns for the door, at first you're afraid he's going to leave but instead he locks the door. Luckily it's late, so the police station is more deserted then it is during the day. Turning back to you, Spencer reaches for the blinds next and you can't help but follow his every movement with your eyes.

"Get on your knees." Spencer says suddenly, and you freeze in shock. Did he just say...?

"Get. On. Your. Knees." Spencer says again through clenched teeth, leaning back against the table, heat simmering in his eyes. His hands grip the edge of the table and you feel a throb from between your legs. Quickly you scramble onto your knees in front of him, your hands reaching up to undo his belt. Once the belt is unfastened, you're quickly unbuttoning his dress slacks, your eagerness making your hands a bit clumsy. Spencer has never been this dominant during sex, but you have no complaints. He has your knees weak and he hasn't even touched you. You quickly dip your hand into his boxers to pull his hardening cock out. As soon as his cock is freed, your lips are wrapping around the head. Spencer's head tosses back in ecstasy.

"Your lips look so pretty stretched around my cock. Those bastards could only imagine having you on your knees for them." Spencer snaps, his hand weaving into the hair at the back of your head. You moan softly around him at his crude words, slowly sliding down his cock. Spencer groans when he feels your tongue laving the underside of his cock, along the vein that runs from base to tip. Apparently feeling impatient, Spencer pushes your head further down his cock. He feels his tip right at the entrance of your throat, and with one gentle thrust he breaches your throat and his cock slides all the way into your mouth.

"Fuck," Spencer hisses, and Spencer does not curse often. So the fact that you have been able to draw curses from his mouth is nothing short of a miracle. Spencer's chest heaves slightly as you gag lightly around him, drawing another deep groan from his chest. You feel nearly desperate to please him, you need to make him cum. You want him to fucking pound you, you want him to use your body for his pleasure. You want him to release all of his frustration out on you, you want to be sore when he's done.

"You're mine. This is my body to touch and admire, my tight pussy to stretch open, mine." Spencer growls, thrusting gently to meet your hasty movements. You whimper around his cock, gagging slightly again as spit dribbles down your chin. Your eyes are wide and watery as you look up at him, and the sight of you nearly causes him to blow his load. You just look so fucking beautiful on your knees in front of him, drool on your chin and your mouth full of cock. It's a sight he will never forget. You move your head faster, keeping your eyes locked on his. Spencer squeezes the edge of the table, his head tossing back when his orgasm hits him. You feel his cum shooting in spurts to the back of your throat and you swallow every drop. Once you pull off him, Spencer is grabbing your elbows to pull you to stand.

Spencer's hands are reaching for the button of your dress slacks as his mouth presses messily to yours. Spencer's tongue pushes into your mouth, his hands pushing your pants down and you kick them off. Instantly, Spencer's fingers are sliding into your panties and through your slick folds. You whine loudly against his mouth, your eyes fluttering shut as his palm roughly cradles the back of your head.

"Need to make sure you know who you belong to." Spencer snaps as he pulls away from you, quickly pushing two long fingers into your dripping hole. You cry out before Spencer is slapping a hand over your mouth, your back pressed against the wall. Spencer's slender frame is leaning against you, effectively trapping you against the wall and his body. Your eyes are rolling when Spencer's finger crook inside of you while roughly thrusting into you.

"Gotta be quiet, wouldn't want Luke to catch us now would we?" Spencer breathes in the shell of your ear, sending goosebumps spreading over your skin. You are completely at Spencer's mercy and you wouldn't have it any other way. The pleasure shooting through you goes rocketing up your spine when Spencer scissors his fingers inside of you. You're mumbling incoherently against his palm, desperate pleas not to stop, to please let you cum. Your entire body is flushed, and you feel sweat on your skin like a sheen layer over you. Spencer feels you begin to squeeze around his fingers and he replaces his palm with his mouth, swallowing all of your moans and desperate cries.

Your back is arching as your high approaches, and you climb higher and higher to meet it. Spencer never lets up, his fingers steadily pumping into you and his lips muffling all of your cries of pleasure. The sounds you make are music to his ears, they tell him that you will always be his, no matter what childish fears he has. Your hands come up to unbutton the buttons on Spencer's dress shirt, you need to feel more of him. Before you can finish undressing your husband, his fingers nudge your cervix and you instantly clamp around his fingers, your body convulsing.

"You look so beautiful when you cum." Spencer praises, his cock rock hard again. He needs to be inside of you as soon as humanely possible. Spencer pulls away from you to grasp the base of his cock, no need to bother with protection. The two of you already agreed that you want to try for a baby anyway.

"Please baby, please get inside me. How could you think I'd ever leave you? I love you, and nobody could make me cum like you can." You moan desperately, turning to bend over the table. Spencer's hand runs up your spine, enjoying the way you wriggle your hips in search of his cock. There are butterflies squirming in your stomach as you spread your legs apart wider for him, but he still doesn't bring his cock closer to you.

"Oh c'mon Spence don't do this please. Baby, fuck me." You plead, nearly sobbing as you shamlessly beg. He presses his tip against your soaked entrance and you whine. You hear fabric rustling around and you turn your head just in time to see him pull his tie from around his neck.

"I needed to hear you beg for me, and this is to keep you quiet. As much as I love the sounds you make when I'm inside you, I can't let anyone else hear you." Spencer says, his voice low and rumbling from his chest. You open your mouth to let him tie the silk fabric in your mouth. You try to whimper but you gag around the tie in your mouth, and you see a pleased smile cross onto Spencer's face. Your fingers grasp at the edge of the table as you impatiently wait for Spencer to push into you. You feel his glorious cock nestled at your entrance, the tip barely nudging in. You feel another wave of slick gush out of you and Spencer is running his tip through your already drenched folds. Such a tease.

You whine softly, trying to push back against him. Spencer chuckles darkly before his hands grasp your hips to hold you steady. With one firm thrust, Spencer is breaching your folds and sliding deep inside you. You feel heat searing through you, your head dropping to the table as you whimper through the burn. The stretch burns more then you anticipated, and you hear Spencer groaning softly, which sends another wave of liquid heat rushing through you.

"God you feel so good baby, you take my cock so fucking well." Spencer praises, gently pulling out to slowly thrust back in. His eyes are locked on the place where you two connect, watching with hooded eyes as his cock disappears inside you.

"I wish you could see this baby, I love watching you take my cock." He praises through a soft moan, and you drink up every sound he makes. Spencer needed this so bad and you love the fact that you can give him a type of relief nobody else on the planet can give him. Spencer steadily thrusts into you when you both hear footsteps slowly passing outside the room. You expect Spencer to stop, to pull out of you and start redressing but he doesn't. He slows his pace considerably, but he still slowly thrusts into you.

"Shh, I would hate for whoever that is to see my cock buried in your pretty pussy." Spencer whispers as he leans forward to whisper in your ear. You struggle to contain the whimpers, but somehow you remain completely silent as Spencer gently thrusts into you. Once whoever it is passes by, Spencer resumes his quicker thrusts. His pelvis hits your ass with enough force to send you lurching across the table and your fingers scramble to find purchase against the smooth surface.

"This is my pussy, you're my wife, you're mine. Not Luke's, not that dick from the Prison. Mine." Spencer says, punctuating the words with a sharp thrust into you. You wished you could answer him, that you could cry to the heavens that you belong to Spencer Reid- that you never want to belong to anybody else. You settle for squeezing his cock whenever it returns to your velvety warmth, chanting the same word in your head over and over.

Yours yours yours yours yours.

Your forehead presses against the table, muffled and strangled cries escaping your lips every time Spencer hits deep inside you. His cock stretches you perfectly, and always hits places deep inside you. Places you didn't know existed. Soon you feel your orgasm creeping up on you, and you feel lightheaded so you reach up to yank the tie away from your mouth.

"Please make me cum Spence, I'm so close baby please don't stop." You beg, muffling your moans with your palm as he drives his cock into you. You feel sweat covering your entire body and Spencer holds your hips with a bruising force. You feel that coil winding tighter and tighter, and you release a high pitched whine when Spencer's hand snakes around your body to thumb your clit.

"Oh Spencer your cock feels so good, soo good baby. Always feels so good, fuck baby I love you," You're not sure what you're saying at this point, an incoherent mess of praises for the man above you. Spencer loves when he reduces you to this, speaking in a jumble of words and disconnected statements because you can't think with his cock inside you.

"I, shit, I love you-" Spencer gasps, slamming his cock inside you and rolling your clit before you're squeezing around him tightly, your mouth falling open in a silent scream. You cum in hot gushes around him and Spencer can only offer a few more stuttering thrusts before he's cumming with a loud growl, coating your walls in his hot cum. Spencer keeps his cock inside you, ensuring his cum stays inside you. He wants to get you pregnant. His palms gently hold your hips, and all the frustration he's felt all day has completely disappeared. His chest is heaving from the exertion but he feels more relaxed then he has all day. There's a smile on your face and your eyes are closed as your legs finally give out and you collapse against the table.

"You okay?" You hear Spencer's voice, and you can't help but smile when you hear that he's panting slightly. You hum with a smile on your face.

"I'm amazing." You mumble back, feeling Spencer begin to gently massage your back. You love enjoying the afterglow with him, even if you're laying on a table. Slowly Spencer pulls out, but he groans softly when he sees his cum inside your pussy. He reaches to the floor to pull your panties and dress slacks back up your legs and he quickly tucks himself back into his pants. He buttons the 4 buttons you managed to open on his shirt before he's gently pulling you to stand.

"You sure you're alright?" Spencer asks, concern in his eyes. You nod with a smile, but when he releases his hold on your shoulders, you feel your legs tremble and give out underneath you. Spencer immediately catches you and sets you down on the table. You laugh softly.

"Guess you fucked me good."

"Sorry." Spencer says sheepishly, but you press a chaste kiss to his lips.

"Don't be, that had to have been the best sex we've had in a long time." You mumble against his lips and Spencer hums in agreement. Reaching for his tie, Spencer shoves it in his pocket before he pokes his head out of the room you guys just defiled.

"Spencer, I'm so sorry about what I said. I love you so much, I didn't mean what I said about my ring-" You blubber suddenly, drawing Spencer's attention to you. He cradles your head against his chest, pressing kisses to your forehead.

"I know baby, it's okay. I love you." Spencer answers quietly, holding you to him tightly.

"I'm sorry I was a jerk today. I'm just so protective of you. I can't let anything steal you from me." Spencer admits softly and you cup his cheeks to make him look at you. There is a sadness in his eyes that you want to obliterate, you can't stand it when he's sad. It breaks your heart.

"Nothing could steal me from you. I only want you Spencer." You say quietly and you see tears misting his eyes. He presses his lips desperately against yours, and you feel tears cascading down yours and his cheeks. The kiss is wet, but it's passionate and you throw every ounce of love you have for this man into it. When you and Spencer part, your foreheads are pressed together.

"Hey Spence? How am I gonna get to the hotel. I can't walk." You say softly with a giggle and Spencer smiles mischievously.

"I guess I'll have to carry you." He scoops you bridal style into his arms then and you blush deeply when he carries you out of the room and towards the front entrance.

"Spencer! Everybody is going to know!" You whisper into his ear and he chuckles.

"Good."

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer x y/n #spencer x you #post prison spencer #jealousy #possessive #criminal minds #smut #spencer reid x you #spencer x reader #jealous smut

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mysticalrambling · 3 years ago

Text

Ending It All Part 1 (C.E)

Part 2

Chris Evans Fan fiction (Fan fiction Masterlist)

Summary: Chris wants to end your marriage and you decide to go along with it. You have to be civil for the sake of the kids but you are hurt. This process is too much for the both of you and eventually, it all ends.

Warnings: Angst all the way.

._._._._._.

You had seen it coming from a mile. People say that a woman’s sixth sense is her greatest power. You always took pride in it but in this case, it was a curse. Chris and you have known each other for the past seven years and from those years, you were married for five. He was the love of your life. You thought it was forever but apparently you were wrong. You were wrong about so many things.

From the past six months, Chris has been home for a couple of days at most and then he was traveling. Traveling for work, for friends and whatnot. And for the days that he was here, he didn’t look at you like you were his wife, his soulmate. He looked at you like you were a stranger. Spending time with the kids was all he ever did and then came up with measly explanations to go off to bed early. There was no space left for you in his life. You thought that it was just a rough patch but that was not the case.

“(Y/N), we need to talk.” The determined look in his icy blue eyes said it all.

Taking a deep breath, you shakily replied, “Let me just put the kids to sleep.” Your energetic kids had tired out you for the whole day because you were off from work today. Chris had just come back from shooting and he didn’t give you a kiss like he usually did. In fact, he hadn’t kissed you like he meant it for several years now.

“I will be in the kitchen. You want wine?” He was walking away before you could even reply.

“Yeah, sure.” You mumbled out and you didn’t even know that he listened.

“Mommy, we are going to spend the whole day with you and daddy tomorrow?” Mia and Jace have started to pick up on the fact that there was something going on between their parents. You wanted to keep all of this away from your four and two year old but it seems that you might have failed. You were failing at a lot of things right now.

“Yes, we will. Now, go to sleep.” It took you about half an hour to be put them to sleep and during that time, you were a wreck. There were a thousand possibilities running through your mind.

Coming back downstairs, Chris handed you the glass of wine, your favorite as always. He knew every little detail about you. “(Y/N), I don’t know how to say this but-”

“Before you finish that sentence, I just need to tell you that I promised the kids a day out tomorrow. Don’t ruin it.”

“I- I can’t say that.” Fiddling with his almost empty glass, he couldn’t bring it in himself to look at you. He was going to ruin this promise as well just like he was going to ruin everything.

“Just, go on.” You refilled the wine glass as you knew you needed the alcoholic haze to get through this conversation.

“I can’t do this anymore. This is just not what I want in my life anymore.” Your breath hitched and your heart broke into tiny little pieces.

Exact words were what you needed to hear right now. No vague statements. “What do you mean? What can’t you do?”

“This. This relationship. I think I am done. I am truly sorry, (Y/N).”

“Is- Is there someone else?” It was as if a ball was lodged in your throat and you couldn’t bring yourself to talk coherently. Fluently.

Chris looked at you, horrified. How could you even say that? He would never in a million years even think about cheating on you. Dignity was an important trait for Chris and if he ever cheated, he wouldn’t be able to look at himself. It hurt him that you would even consider this as a reason but he couldn’t blame you.

“No! This is not the reason. Not at all.” A defensive attitude was immediately taken up by your husband.

“Then is it me? Am I not enough for you?” Hot tears rolled down your cheeks but you didn’t have the energy to wipe them out.

“It is not you, darling. I just don’t think this is what I want with my life anymore. I want to solely focus on my career.”

“You are choosing your career over your family.” As the realization started to hit you, you couldn’t control the anger that took over you. “Over your family, Chris?”

“(Y/N) I am just done. I want an out and can we please try to be civil about this?” He pleaded.

“You want me to be civil about this? Fine.” You took a calming breath and closed your eyes for a second. “Just explain it to me. Maybe we can work something out.”

“I can’t- I don’t know how to explain it. Seven months ago I just woke up and I didn’t want to do this anymore. I want to start over.” A shocking chill passed through your body and you realized that it was hurt. You were betrayed.

“So you don’t want to do anything with me or the kids as well?”

“No. I want to be a part of their lives and-”

You looked him in the eyes and spoke in a broken voice, “It’s just me that you want out of your life.”

“Darling, no-” Chris tried to reach out for your hand but you placed them on your hands. He had lost the right to touch you from the moment he said that he didn’t want you. You were just a problem for him that needed to be solved.

There were years when he needed you every step of the way. Chris met you at a party that Scarlett threw. You were her best friend so you were invited to her New Year’s party. The moment he saw you, he was head over heels. He followed you around for two months to get you to go on a date with him. You used to tease him afterwards that he was a love sick puppy. But he was your love sick puppy.

That was not the case now and you didn’t know what you will do if he wasn’t in your life anymore. Your world revolved around your family but now it was all falling apart. You were falling apart.

“We can file for divorce tomorrow. Do you want to stay here tonight?” Wiping your tears, you got up from the stool and put the glasses in the sink.

“Uhh okay, okay. I can stay with Scott tonight.”

This was not what he expected. He expected you to cry, fight, scream. He thought there would be more discussion on this topic. Seven years were going to waste and you were treating this as a simple business transaction. Truth be told, you didn’t want him to see you fall apart. Chris had lost that right. If he didn’t want a life with you, then you were not going to beg him to stay. You were going to fulfill his wish and set him free.

“We have to take the kids out tomorrow. I was thinking the park.”

“What?” He was too distracted by everything to even realize what you were talking about.

“We will talk to them about the divorce tomorrow.”

“Isn’t this going a little too fast?”

“We should get this all over with as soon as possible. Goodbye, Chris.” Silently pecking him on his cheek, you went to your shared bedroom.

The moment your head touched the pillow, you were surrounded by his scent. The dam burst and you couldn’t stop the tears from running down your face and getting soaked up by the cushions. What were you going to do with your life now? You had to come up with a plan to manage the kids together with Chris. You had to think about getting a job that would accommodate your kids in to it now that you were going to be a single parent. You didn’t get a wink of sleep last night and you cried a lot.

On the other hand, Chris was not doing any better. Scott gave him the spare guest room to sleep in. He didn’t know what was going on between his brother and you but he knew it was serious. Chris couldn’t sleep last night either because he was not used to. This was the first time in seven years that you both were in the same city and you were not sleeping together. You wouldn’t be sleeping with him from now on. He has to get used to that idea. The idea of you not being there every step of the way because this was his own doing. He was dreading tomorrow as he was the one who was destroying his family.

“Hi. I was just here to pick you all up.” Guilt washed over him when he noticed your red puffy eyes and eye bags.

“You didn’t have to. We could have come there by ourselves.”

“We always go to the park together. It is our thing.”

“We can’t do all of these things now. Everything is going to change.”

“Right.” You moved towards the kitchen and he followed you like a lost puppy.

“Daddy!” Both kids ran up to him and clinged to his legs like two little monkeys.

“Hey babies.” He held on to them a little bit longer because he knew he was the one who was ruining their little lives.

“Where were you? Missed your pancakes. Mama doesn’t make good.” Mia hadn’t learned to make full sentences yet but Chris understood her perfectly.

“I was busy, baby. I- I-”

“Go get your shoes on. We are going to be late.” You saved him from the conversation because he looked like a deer caught in headlight. Chris couldn’t answer his daughter as this was how it was going to be. He wouldn’t be there for all of this. The important phases. Jace’s first soccer win, his first award, or Mia’s first school day, her first break up, her prom. He was going to miss most of them because you would be there with them while he will get them for weekends mostly.

“Let’s go.” Buckling his kids in, he sat in the driver’s seat. When he pulled out of the garage, his hand instinctively went for yours. It was out of pure instinct. You retracted your hand immediately and Chris just drew in a shaky breath, He was not allowed to touch you now.

“I am taking them to the swings. Do you want to come with?”

“No, I am just going to my usual spot to read my book.” There was a maple tree that had been your spot for the past five years. It was where you rested and caught up with your reading.

“Okay.”

The next hour was spent with Chris going on to every swing with his kids. He didn’t want to miss anything. Plus, he didn’t know how he could sit with you under the tree that held so many memories. You told him that you will marry him under this tree and that you were pregnant with Jace. It was all too much. You couldn’t focus on your reading when this might be the last time you get to see him with your kids. The last time you were together as husband and wife. This might be the last time because Chris wanted you out of his life.

“Hey, kids. We have to talk to you.” You finally gathered up some courage when they all came to sit beside you. Chris couldn’t bring himself to start up this conversation so he was glad that you did.

“Yeah, Mommy?”

“So you know how your friend Oliver’s parents don’t live together but they still love him very much.”

“Yeah.” Jace’s whole concentration was on his ice cream but he still nodded his head to indicate that he was listening. Mia was too young to comprehend it all so you mainly focused on your son.

“Well, Daddy and I are going to be doing the same thing. We love you both very much and we will always there be with you.”

“But Ollie’s daddy doesn’t live with him.” His blue eyes focused on the two of you when he made the statement.

“Yeah, buddy. I will be staying at an apartment really near by. You both can come whenever you want to.”

“You won’t be there to read us night stories or make our favorite brekky?” His question threw Chris off guard and he froze in his place.

“He will be there to do everything for you guys. Mia and you can go to daddy’s place and he can do all this.” You jumped in when you noticed that Chris didn’t know how to respond to all this. “Right, Chris?”

“Yes, that’s right. Nothing is going to change, buddy.” Wiping away his tears, your husband placed him on his lap with Mia.

“Promise?” Mia spoke up this time because she understood that her daddy wouldn’t live with her like he always did.

“Promise. Let’s go back to the house. You both look tired.”

You placed Mia on her bed while Chris did the same for Jace. They both were out the moment they were buckled in their car seats. Coming downstairs, you prepared coffee for Chris and yourself. He always liked his coffee black so that’s what you made for him. The cup was placed in front of him and he sighed because no one made coffee like you.

“Our lawyer said that he will have the papers delivered to us by tomorrow.”

“Okay, I saw this new apartment building when I was coming here this morning. I might rent it out. The penthouse has three rooms. One for the kids and one is the guest bedroom. You can stay there when you bring the kids over.” He looked at you with a defensive position.

“I won’t be staying at your apartment so please don’t take me into consideration.” You didn’t understand why he thought you would ever stay over at his place. You would never subject yourself to that kind of pain.

“But there can be special circumstances and my home will always be open for you, (Y/N). We can still be friends.” He was hoping against all hope that you would agree. He still wanted you in his life.

“I don’t think I can do that. Be friends. There is too much history. Let’s just keep it to the kids right now.” You picked on your nails because you didn’t want to cry like a little girl in front of him. “And I am going to change houses as well so do you want to sell this one?”

“Why do you have to move?” Chris was shocked to hear those words come out of your mouth.

“I can’t live in a house that was meant to be our family house. I just can’t.”

He understood where you were coming from but this house held too many memories. He couldn’t think of another family living here. Some couple living in your master bedroom, some kids running around in your children’s playground, some other family’s picture instead of yours. It was just too much to think about.

“Let’s just keep the house. When the kids grow up, they can have it.”

“Okay. I am tired right now so I am going to bed. I will sign the papers tomorrow and send them over to Scott’s.” You placed the empty mug on the counter and stood in a straight posture. “You want the kids this weekend?”

“Yes, I would like that. Do you want to maybe come with us?” He didn’t know why he was not ready to let you go yet. This was all his doing but he just couldn’t accept it right now.

“Umm no. I think we should settle the kids into this new routine.”

“I guess you are right.”

“Goodbye, Chris. I love you and I will always love you.” You regretted the words that came out of your mouth the instant you said them. You were so stupid but you just couldn’t help yourself. This was probably the last time you ever got to say it.

“I- I love you too, (Y/N). I will always be there for you. Goodbye, darling.” The lump in his throat seemed to grow bigger by the second but he had to say this. Lightly pecking you on the lips, he knew this was the last time he ever got to do this. He left afterwards and you couldn’t help but tear up. The same thing happened with Chris. This was it. Your marriage was over but your love would always be there.

Hope you guys liked it!!

._._._._._.

A/N: I literally cried while writing this fan fiction. This one is particularly close to my heart so please let me know what you think about it. If you want to be added to my tag list, message me. I am also open to requests for this series; requests, blurbs, anything.

P.S: There is a part 2 as well.

Tag list: @kalopsia-flaneur, @justile, @iguessweallcrazyithinktho, @jessyballet , @luckyladycreator2

Like, comment and reblog.

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buckybarnesdiaries · 4 years ago

Text

white wolf: “the story of a first date”

first part — second part — third part — fourth part (soon)

bucky barnes x reader. ⎢ masterlist.

Sam helps Bucky to ask you out for a date and it's a disaster, but he gets it.

word count: 3.147 words. (not sorry, it worth it, i promise!!!)

warnings/tags: none. bucky being the cutest gentleman in the whole wide world, and sam keeping an eye on him.

author notes: as it happened with the first part, i'm not really happy with the result but i had so much fun writing it and i think that that made this writing perfect, so i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed it. none of my stories contain reader’s body descriptions to be inclusive.

Join the tag list here.

The car stopped because of a red light, a moment where Sam took the advantage to turn at his copilot, glancing at Bucky from top to bottom in complete silence. Analyzing him. The soldier tilted his head raising an eyebrow, showing his curiosity about what the hell he was doing.

“What are you gonna wear, uh?” Sam asked then, maintaining a serious gesture on his face.

“Clothes”. Unworriedly, he put back his eyes to the front window.

“You probably look good naked, but that’s not what I’m talking ‘bout”.

“Just… some jeans, a shirt, and a jacket”.

“And shoes, I guess”.

Bucky turned on his seat towards his friend, squinting confused for the interrogatory. “Who cares?”

“About the shoe—”

“About the clothes”.

“Man, it’s a date! Do you wan’her to remember this night as the night Bucky Barnes shown up as a Russian bum?”

“I’m from Brookl—”.

“Yeah, but you look like mother Russia just spat you to the world”.

Sam rolled his eyes as a sigh escaped his mouth. Shaking his head, he took the next corner to the fifth avenue changing the planes they had in mind. A good outfit meant a good date. A good date meant happy soldier. Happy soldier meant no trouble. See the point? So the Falcon would take care of the Winter Soldier today. If only Steve could see them. He’d feel proud, that was for sure. They visited a couple of shops, finally letting Sam take control over the situation and pick the clothes he would wear for you. He had good taste, everybody knew that, and Bucky couldn’t complain about his choices.

Even less when the distinctive black suit dressed his anatomy to perfection. Spinning around in front of the mirror, he felt different. He looked different. He looked good, but not as he’d like. Holding the bucket of flowers once he was ready, Bucky left his apartment straight to the garage under the building. He was nervous, he couldn’t lie. But he had that sensation inside him that made him believe everything would be okay for the first time since he woke up.

The road didn’t take him more than ten minutes, not really worried about the time given that he had planned to arrive a little sooner than accorded. Life seemed like it was smiling at him, finding a parking lot in the same entrance. Landing his blue eyes on the rearview mirror, Bucky took a last view at his reflection, brushing back his hair as he used to do in the forties. He grabbed then the flowers he bought for you and stepped out of the car, trying to remember the advice Sam gave him. Resting his back against the copilot's door, he waited impatiently for you.

“Hey, you”.

His heart stopped for a second, raising his orbs to the man coming closer. Before he could react, the man in question tucked a hand beneath Bucky's jacket. Patting him down.

“What the hell are you doing, Sam?” He questioned irritatedly, slapping his hands and causing him to laugh.

“Just checking you didn't bring the notecards again”.

“Yeah, very funny…”

“Man, look at you! Should be illegal to look this good, uh?” Sam helped him to put on the jacket again, receiving another slap from his friend.

“Don't touch me”. Scowling, he fixed the flowers in his left hand, wanting them to be perfect. “Anyway, what are you doing here?”

“Watch you till (Y/N) comes. Lemme take a picture, I feel like a proud father on his son's prom day”.

“You're not m— Get the hell outta here, Sam”.

“Fighting again, kids? Should I call your mama?”

As Bucky heard you scoff, his soul abandoned. His pupils dilated. His legs trembled. And he could swear that everything disappeared around him when he watched you going downstairs, swinging your hips unconsciously sensual, with a black dress fitting you like a glove. If this morning Bucky wanted to marry you, now he wanted to spend the rest of his life by your side. Your makeup was on point, just like your hair, not being too formal but enough to run him out of words.

“Steve is off-duty, so, what 'you gonna do, soldier?” Sam mocked, an instant before noticing how pale Bucky was. He couldn't help but slap the back of his neck to bring him back to reality.

“I, uh… flowers… I bought you…”

“You're not Yoda”. Sam whispered as the other offered you the present.

“C'mon, stop messing with him”. You clicked your tongue, right before you drew an adorable smile on your lips, leaning to kiss Bucky's cheek. “Thank you”.

“You're welcome”. He just answered, responding to your same gesture while opening the door for you.

“Such a gentleman…” His playful murmur made Bucky frown and nudge him, trying to stop him from saying anything else and ruin the occasion.

“I'll bring him back at ten”. You joked palming his chest.

“The point is to not bring him back to me”. Sam cackled, shaking his head and taking a step back.

Once in the car turning on the engine, James joined the road after checking you were good. Never in his life he had driven with so much care as if he was carrying a bomb by his side. He set on the radio, not really knowing how to start a conversation, watching you through the corners of his eyes caressing the flowers over your lap. No one had bought you them before, thinking it was a thing that only happened in movies. But then, you met Bucky. An old-fashioned man, making yourself wonder how he was the same the news used to say he was a cold-blood assassin.

“What have you thought?”

“Uh?”

“About the date”.

“Sam told me about a rest—”.

“Okay, okay, Bucky. Pull over”. You couldn't help but burst into laughter, as his face was pale again thinking you were about to step out and end the date.

“Sorry, did I…?”

You swiveled at him on your seat, kissing your teeth and squinting inevitably. Studying his face you knew how afraid he was, and it was the most adorable reaction ever. You could have kissed at that precise instant, but it'd have been a little awkward.

“Where do you wanna go?”

The question didn't take him by surprise, actually. He was still getting used to doing the things he desired and not what other people asked him to do. The restaurant was a fancy place with a distinguished menu according to what his friend explained to him, but it wasn't the kind of site that he'd normally go, or that represented him.

“When I, uh… came back, I discovered that my favorite burger joint in Brooklyn was still standing”. Bucky told you, facing you after finishing the sentence. “They prepare the best burgers of the whole New York and you can decide what ingredients add, and the bread, and the kind of meat. And it still having the original decoration”.

You reclined on your seat, just staring at him talking with that kind of burning passion about something he loved. Puckering your lips, you nodded your chin. The fact that not only he wanted to take you to a different place, but a place that he used to go to when he was young made butterflies flutter within your belly. Bucky wanted to make you part of his future, but also his past. That made the difference.

“Sounds good to me”.

“Really?” He inquired funnily confused, wrinkling his nose and forehead.

“Really”.

The shine that appeared within his eyes made you place a hand on his cheek to urge him to turn his head and drive again. An innocent gesture that provoked him a lively giggle. If that man knew all the things he caused you, he'd have taken the step months ago.

As the night went on and Bucky was losing his shyness, he talked to you about the good old times. Before HYDRA, before the winter, before the war. When he was a kid with no worries more than keeping Steven safe from the bullies. It was nice to disconnect from the present, from the gazes around the two of you, from the back talks, only enjoying your dinner and your conversation. You talked to Bucky about how was to be raised on a farm, surrounded by open fields and animals, to join the army years later. Without going into details that could make him remember the old bad times, you told him about what you used to do, your missions, and how you were wounded in combat after being shot and fell from a helicopter.

Bucky felt confident enough to compare it with how everything started. Falling from a wagon to the snow. But as soon as his voice became lower, you couldn't help but hold his gloved left hand and intertwine your fingers with his. And you could swear you felt him shaking for a brief moment because of your touch.

“So, what, uh? It was a forties trend to jump into the void?” You tried to joke, wanting to feel relaxed.

“Yeah, seems like”. He mumbled curling up his lips. “Listen… I really want to… open up, and I know it’s easier with you because… y’know, you work doing this”.

“Hold on, Bucky”. You laughed waving your free hand, shaking your chin as you closed your eyes for a second. “That has sounded really bad”.

“Wait, wh— Oh, shit, no, no, no”.

For the first time since you walked into the small restaurant, his laughter was lively, unworriedly, honest.

“Take it easy, just kidding”. You grinned, nailing your elbow on the table to rest your cheek on your palm. “But… this isn’t work. We’re not doing therapy, we’re… knowing each other. And I don’t want to pressure you to talk about something you don’t feel prepared to, okay?”

“I know”.

Bucky couldn’t believe how much you seemed to empathize with him, not judging his acts nor his past, not deciding that the date wasn't a good idea nor running away. He couldn’t believe the less importance you were giving to his arm made of vibranium; usually, people used to freak out, to feel frightened somehow about the things it could do. But you were there, fingers playing with the others as if it was the most common and natural act in the world. And, for you, it was. That was you in all your best. Considerate, smart, patient, lovingly. The rainbow after a stormy life. Everything that Bucky needed in his life to start from scratch and be his better version. A shoulder to lean on and a reason to come back home.

“Was afraid of asking you out”. He confessed after some seconds admiring each other. Any person closer would say you had been dating for a long, long time by the way you had to keep silent and not feel uncomfortable.

“Why?”

“You came from war and made your world a place to live. I’m still stuck there”.

“I have my own red flags”. Clicking your tongue, you rolled your eyes.

“Oh, really? Please, surprise me”. Bucky teased you sitting up on his chair, not loosening the gentle grip around your left hand.

“I put the milk before cereals”.

“Oh… Oh, God”. He let out, pretending to be horrified and running a hand on his face. “Goddammit… you’re a monster, ma’am. I don’ think this is going to work”.

“Excuse me?” You chuckled, parting your lips in a breath while leaning over the table to palm his right shoulder. “It wasn’t me who added lettuce to the burger”.

“What? What’s the matter with that, uh?”

“Lettuce kills the savor!”

“Y’know what kills the savor? Ketchup. Today, people use ketchup literally with everything… And that’s disgusting”.

“Okay! Next time, no lettuce, and… no ketchup”.

“That’s a big challenge”. Bucky scoffed tenderly squeezing your hand between his cold fingers.

“I’ll live, Sergeant Barnes”. You narrowed your eyes and crinkled your nose at the same time.

“I was talking about a second date, not about your issue with ketchup”.

“So was I”.

A goofy smirk appeared on Bucky’s face, biting his inner cheek as he assented with his head. Seeing you again, knowing that you wanted it —that you wanted him—, made him trust Dr. Raynor’s words. He was having a second chance to do the right thing. To live and to be.

You wanted to add something else when the clock in his wrist started to beep. Curious, you raised an eyebrow. “We have to leave”.

“Why?”

“Sam told me you work tomorrow at eight, which means you’ll get up at six and a half… maybe seven. While I pay, take you home, all that stuff… I don’ want you to be tired in the morning”.

Bucky would never stop to amaze you, looking up to him in silence to contemplate how he called the bartender and beckoned his free hand to ask for the bill.

“What…? What are you doing?” He chuckled embarrassed, taking his beer to sip.

You cleared your throat when you realized how stupid you should look right now, shaking your head as you freed his cold hand from yours to find unlock your phone as soon as the guy brought the dataphone.

“Hey, no, no. I asked you out, I pay”. Bucky began to fight with you, provoking some laughs on the table as you tried to put your screen above the tpv.

“Well, welcome to the twenty-first century”. You hummed as the operation was confirmed.

“I’ll pay next time”. He declared licking his incisors, prior to his lips.

You wished the ride back home to last forever, not wanting to end the date. But the car reached your neighborhood in a blink of eyes. You couldn't help but sigh barely appreciably for your companion, gazing through the window until double parking in front of your apartment. You turned towards him, hearing the engine shut off. Bucky seemed disappointed like you, not being able to remember when was the last time he had a break, he had fun. The date was nicer than he expected but the idea of not knowing exactly when he was going to see you again was killing him from the inside.

“I'll accompany you”. He declared undoing his seat belt as you did to step out.

You reacted with a delicate smile, holding the bucket of flowers against your abdomen while walking to the front door of the building. That moment was a little uncomfortable, not being sure about how to say goodbye, just looking like two teens in love.

“Thank you for tonight, Bucky”. You uttered without thinking about it. “It's been the best night I've ever had”.

“Next will be better, I promise”.

“That's a big challenge”. You chuckled repeating his words a while ago in the restaurant.

“I'll live”. He nodded convinced, glancing at you bowing down your interest to the red roses between your hands.

How could you tell him that you were dying to be together again? That you wouldn't mind waking up sooner and having breakfast? You bit your inner upper lip, trying to find the correct words to say, without sounding like you were feeling something else to a physical attraction. Bucky was hot as hell, that wasn't up to debate, but he was the kindest and charmingest man you had known. He was sensible and strong at the same time. You both complemented the other like the pieces of a puzzle and you never thought something like that could happen to you. To find your other half and having it so clear you didn't want anyone else.

“I am, uh… free tomorrow”.

His words pushed you out of your thoughts, putting up your attention to a Bucky almost flushing, stroking the back of his head, and having the impression that he could scare you.

“Got a break for lunch, if you want”. You proposed without hesitation.

His eyes sparkled with happiness, holding your left hand with his to bring it to his mouth, placing a fond kiss on the back. Such a gentleman, like Sam said, inducing your cheeks to burn. And then, you saw him doubting about taking another step. You wanted it too to happen, tho, leaning forward to press your lips together. Your eyes snapped closed at that precise instant, not having any rush, tasting each other's and shortening the distance between both of you by his free arm getting wrapped around your waist. The kiss was innocent but passionate. It was warm, intimate, trying to transmit all the chemistry you woke up within the other with only one look, with only one smile. Breaking it —much to your regret— when you needed air to breathe. And even so, Bucky rested his forehead against yours freeing your hand to place it on the right side of his neck.

Neither of the two of you opened your eyes, extending the moment as much as you could. You felt he craved to spend the night with you, and you desired it too, but you also felt that he needed some time to get used to this new world he was living in. It wasn't easy. You thought back to the months after the war, the recovery, the loneliness you forced yourself to be in. You were in Afghanistan for three months. He had been fighting since nineteen forty. And he didn't want to ruin what you were building together.

“I should leave”. Bucky murmured against his wishes.

“See you tomorrow”.

At the moment you opened your eyes to meet the pale blue ones, your whole body felt weak. You saw the brightness in them after letting him know that the second date was going to happen and that it wasn't just a formality before disappearing, wiping out any minimal doubt by kissing him again. The last kiss. A good night, I'll dream with you kiss.

“I'm gonna play this on your wedding day, definitely”.

You screamed because of the unexpected metallic voice coming closer, clinging to Bucky's neck as his heart raced too. Redwing was suspended in the air some steps away from you, being controlled by Sam. Who else is not him, uh?

“I'm starting to think you have separation anxiety”. The soldier growled trying to hit the flying device with his flesh hand, hearing you laughing against his chest.

“Good night, kids”. You chuckled separating from Bucky.

“No kiss for me, soldier?”

“I'm not gonna kiss that thing, Samuel”.

“What about a howl, White wolf? Would be very appro—”.

“White wo—”.

“Please, don't. Don't ask”. Bucky begged you, licking his bottom lip while rubbing the back of his head, clearly ashamed.

“Hope you show me one day what it means…”

“Oh, he will… Just wait till the full moon”.

“Sam!” Bucky and you yelled in unison, you playfully, he annoyed.

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queen-haq · 3 years ago

Text

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 13

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language and smut.

Words: ~3000 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost...

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

gif credit: @bilyrusso

Part 13

It was 8 in the evening and you were still in the office. You hadn’t accomplished much work today, your mind mostly focused on Billy. You were surprised by how quickly he’d been able to make the funeral arrangements for his mother. Yesterday you had driven over to the nursing home and by the time you reached there, Carla Russo’s body had already been picked up. You’d signed a few papers for Billy and picked up the remainder of Carla’s things before you returned home. Everything of hers was packed into a small suitcase and sitting in your living room. You wanted to call him, ask him how he was and offer your support, but he seemed determined to do everything on his own when you’d talked to him last and you didn’t want to intrude.

You gave yourself a mental shake, reminding yourself to concentrate. This workday had been a wash. When you weren’t distracted by thoughts of Billy, you were putting out fires in your team. At least the personnel conflicts have been temporarily resolved, but now you needed to work on a slide deck that you’d been tasked with presenting to the executive leadership committee later in the week.

An hour later you were halfway done with your presentation when your phone rang. You glanced down at your screen to find Billy’s name on the screen. “Hi.”

“Hey.” He sounded exhausted. “You still at work?”

“Yeah. How did you know?”

There was a pause. “You give off the workaholic vibe.”

You smiled to yourself; at least he was okay enough to crack jokes. “How are you?”

“You mean am I grieving over a goddamn dead woman who preferred meth to her own fucking son?” He sighed. “No big loss. I’m fine.”

Anger and hurt saturated his voice despite his attempts to sound unaffected. Your heart hurt for him, you wished there was something you could do. “Do you need anything?”

“The funeral service is tomorrow.” A beat of silence followed. “Do you want to come?”

“Sure. What time?”

“2pm.”

“I’ll take the day off. Do you need my help with anything? Maybe I can call some of her friends?”

“When I found her she was living on the streets, barely alive but still hooked on meth. I doubt she’s got any friends.”

“What about the people in the nursing home? Maybe they want to come?”

“No, I don’t want anyone else there. Just you.”

Not liking the warmth that spread through you upon hearing his words, you reminded yourself he was probably feeling unusually vulnerable. This wasn’t typical of him.

“Do you want to come over?” he asked.

You exhaled a heavy sigh. “I would but I have so much work to do. I’ll be here for another hour at least.”

“Come over after you’re done.”

“It’ll be really late.”

“That’s fine. I can wait.”

“I can stop by my place to pick up your mom’s-.”

“No, it’s okay.”

You realized he wasn’t quite ready to go through Carla’s belongings yet.

“Bring your stuff with you.”

“Stuff?”

“Overnight bag, clothes for tomorrow, whatever.”

“Oh. You want me to stay over?”

“Yeah, might as well. We can drive over together for the service tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

Despite the conversation coming to a natural end, he wasn’t hanging up. It seemed as if he was reluctant to be alone, probably because that meant dealing with the complicated emotions for his mother. You knew exactly how that felt. “If you want, I can leave now. I can work from your apartment instead of the office.”

“You’re not worried I’ll be tempted to spy on Valiant stuff?” he teased.

You smiled. “As if I’d let you see what I’m working on.”

“Guess no corporate espionage for me tonight.”

“Still going to keep you away from my laptop.”

He chuckled. “Just get here. I promise not to bug you while you work.”

“Okay. I’m leaving now.”

“See you soon.”

After you hung up, you started gathering your things together.

***

An hour later, you were at his place. When he opened the door, you immediately grew concerned at how tired he looked. Traveling back and forth from Vegas plus dealing with the news about Carla’s death within the last few hours meant he was absolutely exhausted.

“Hey,” he greeted you, smiling as he took the overnight bag from your hands.

You removed your heels while he took your bag inside his room and then made your way to his living room. While his penthouse suite was much bigger than yours, you actually didn’t like it very much. Despite the high-end finishes and the beautiful interiors - Billy had obviously hired a designer to make the place look good - it always felt very cool and inhospitable to you. It was too perfect and you always felt out of place inside the suite.

“You hungry?” he asked, coming up behind you. “I ordered dinner for you.” Arms encircling your waist, he dropped a kiss on the back of your head as he maneuvered you to the kitchen. He’d laid out the food for you on the dining table, and from the take-out containers you knew it was from one of your favourite Indian restaurants. The thoughtful gesture surprised you, you weren’t used to that from him. Noting that he’d only set the table for one, you turned around to look at him. “You’re not going to eat with me?”

“I ate already. I was starving. Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” You cradled his face with one hand, your eyes roving over his beautiful face as he placed a kiss on the fleshy part of your palm. “You look exhausted. Did you even sleep?”

“No” He leaned back against the kitchen counter, weary. For a moment he closed his eyes, simply holding still, and you found yourself wrapping your arms around him in a hug. You didn’t understand why you’d even initiated the embrace – hugs were never your thing – but seeing him so beaten-down you were desperate to comfort him. He leaned into you, his body flushed against yours, and you held him tight. Stroking the nape of his neck, you placed a soft kiss on the center of his forehead. “Why don’t you take a nap while I work?”

“You don’t mind?”

You smiled up at him, running your fingers through his hair. “At least I don’t have to worry about you stealing my company secrets while you sleep.”

He smirked. “You’ll be here when I wake up?”

“Yup. Probably still working away.”

Billy grazed your temple softly before dropping a tender kiss on the tip of your nose. “Okay, but eat first.”

You nodded your head, watching after him as he sauntered out of the kitchen and disappeared down the hallway.

Sighing, you went to the sink to wash your hands before eating.

***

It was after midnight and you were still working on your slide deck when you heard Billy puttering around in the bathroom. Soon he slowly made his way towards you, dressed in a t-shirt and black boxers, his hair all messy. He yawned lazily, falling onto the other end of the couch.

“I thought you’d sleep through the night,” you remarked.

“Are you still working?” he asked.

“Almost done.” You saved the file and shut off the laptop before slipping it back inside your bag.

Suddenly he pulled you closer and you found yourself tucked underneath him on the couch as he glanced down at you from above. “You work too hard.”

You smiled up at him. “They don’t pay me the big bucks to sit there and look pretty.”

A slow, incandescent smile curved his lips. “I would. If I ran Valiant, you’d be my personal stress relief. You’d be in my office the entire time and do nothing but look pretty and service me.”

“That’s sexual harassment.”

Billy shrugged his shoulders. “Whatever. I’d make it worth your while.”

You laughed, angling up to kiss him. “Your breath is all minty fresh.”

“I brushed my teeth for you.”

“Wow. Be still my heart.”

A warm grin covered his face as he shifted down your body to nuzzle your neck. His weight was heavy as he rested atop you, but you liked the solid feel of him on you, the way you felt all safe and warm. You stroked his hair while he drew lazy circles on your chest, the silence between you two comforting.

“No one knows about her. Not Frank, not Curtis, no one.”

Those names were familiar to you because Billy had mentioned them in passing a few times. Of course he’d never shared any other info, but you being you, you’d dug around and found out more about them. You knew they’d served with Billy and he considered them his closest friends.

“When I found her three years ago, I put her in that home and forgot all about her.”

“You visited her every week,” you reminded him.

“Because I wanted her to regret abandoning me. I wanted her to see how far I’d come, I wanted to throw her mistakes in her face. But I don’t think she regretted safe-havening me, not even a bit.”

The bitter pain in his voice made your heart hurt for him.

“Maybe I should be happy she’s finally dead, or maybe I’m supposed to be sad or something.”

“How do you actually feel?”

“Nothing. I feel nothing.”

“Billy, I think that’s normal. There’s no right or wrong in this. All of your feelings are valid.”

“Even if her dying made me absolutely ecstatic? You wouldn’t think I was a fucking psychopath?”

“You are a psychopath but not because you have conflicting emotions about your terrible mother dying. You have the right to feel how you feel about her, whatever that might be.”

Eyes blazing with emotion, he hovered about you to meet your gaze. “Then what makes me a psychopath?”

You quirked your eyebrow. “The fact you want to torture my dates.”

“Not just torture, I want to kill them.” Eyes darkened, voice velvety-smooth, he covered your mouth with his and ravaged you with a kiss that left you thrumming and breathless.

“Only you’re allowed to touch me?” you asked through labored breaths.

“Yes.” His voice was a lustful rasp, his mouth leaving a heated trail as he sucked on the oh-so-sensitive corner of where your neck and shoulder intersected. Sparks of electricity ran down your spine. “Only me.”

You took his hand and guided it down your body, parting your thighs for him.

Like always, you were soon completely lost in the erotic pleasure of his mouth on you. Your legs hooked over his shoulders, your hands grabbed the back of the couch for support as he fucked you with his hands and mouth, sucking you, licking you, his tongue flicking over your clit until you were keening under him. Body arching off the couch, you moaned his name louder and louder until he drove you completely over the edge.

Then you felt a light slap on your cunt which immediately brought you back to reality. Opening your eyes, you found Billy perched between your legs, gracing you with the most wicked smile. “That’s one.” He slapped your pussy again, this time his long, lean fingers ever so slightly grazing your clit and your hips bucked, wanting more. “As promised.” His eyebrow quirked up. “Punishment.”

“Not fair,” you protested. “I’ll date who I want.”

He slapped you again, a little harder this time, but then he leaned down to place comforting kisses on the very spots he assaulted and you moaned with pleasure.

“All of you.” His tongue lapped over your clit, eyes locked with yours. “Belongs to me. I own you.”

“You don’t!” You squealed when he flipped you over unexpectedly, grabbing you by the hips so your ass was lifted of the couch. And then he squeezed your butt cheeks, biting them lightly before he started rimming you.

***

After sharing a shower the two of you were laying in his bed, your back pressed against his chest as you both stared up at the ceiling. His one hand was intertwined with yours, the other arm circled around your hips. The two of you didn’t have sex but you didn’t mind. You were both fatigued.

“I smell like you now,” you murmured, realizing the soap in his shower had left its scent on you.

“I know. I like it.” He squeezed your fingers. “I have a present for you.”

“I hope it’s not earrings again.”

He chuckled. “No, not earrings.”

“What is it then?”

“Jewelry.”

You turned back to look at him. “What? Like a necklace?”

“Something like that. Except I’m the only one who’ll see you wearing it.”

“Ah. And where is this gift?”

He kissed the top of your head. “Not here yet.”

You smiled to yourself. “People usually wait until they have the gift in hand before telling others about it.”

“I couldn’t wait. I’m excited to see you wear it.”

He stroked your hair, and your eyes grew heavy. Soon you started falling into deep slumber, feeling calm, comforted by Billy’s arms around you.

“What happened with your family?”

Your eyes flew open. Like always, any mention of your family unfurled anxiety within you. You didn’t like thinking about them letting alone discussing them. “They passed away.”

“They’re dead?”

“Yes.”

“Both of them?”

“Yes.”

He pulled you up so you were facing him now, his intoxicating gaze completely focused on you. “That day when I asked you about the pictures, you said you weren’t close to your family.”

“I meant my extended family. I don’t keep in touch with them,” you replied smoothly.

“What were your parents like?”

Irritation surged through you at his obtrusive questions but you had to remind yourself he just lost his mother. He was feeling out-of-sorts, working through his grief – even if he didn’t think so – and he was reaching out to the only person in his life that knew about his mother. “Normal.”

He simply stared at you for a long time, studying you, saying nothing. “Normal,” he repeated, finally breaking the strained silence.

You shrugged your shoulders, dropping your gaze to the base of his throat so you didn’t have to hold his piercing stare. “Yup.”

“How did they die?”

“Car accident.”

“You miss them?”

“Of course,” you lied.

He reached out to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek. “So you grew up with great parents, white picket fence and all that bullshit? Sounds like you had a fairytale childhood.”

“Can we talk about this tomorrow? I’m really tired.”

“Sure. I’ll add this to the list of all the other shit we’ll talk about someday.”

He sounded almost angry with you and you weren’t sure why. Before you could question him, however, he pulled you close so you were snuggled against his chest and the warmth of his body was enough to silence your brain and lull you to sleep.

***

It was a cold, crisp autumn day in New York. The outdoor service, attended by only you and Billy, was short and quick. Throughout it, he’d gripped your hand even though he’d been outwardly calm and collected. Even now as he stood a few feet away from you, impeccably dressed in a black suit, his dark eyes hidden behind a pair of aviator sunglasses as he stared out at the pond, you sensed he was a complete mess inside. You didn’t know what to say to him so you simply sat on the bench, both of you in an isolated corner of the garden. Eventually he came to sit beside you, taking your hand in his.

“I’d have given her the whole world.” His voice was filled with pain and longing as he removed his sunglasses and tucked them in the upper pocket of his suit. “I would have given her anything she ever wanted.” Billy’s eyes met yours. “If she’d just wanted me.”

You scooted closer to wrap your arms around him, breathing him in as he sunk into you. His hands caressed your back, his grip on you so tight you almost couldn’t breathe. After a while he rested his forehead against yours, his eyes holding you prisoner in front of him.

“Swear to me you’ll never leave.”

“Billy-”

“Promise me!”

“I can’t.”

“It wasn’t a fucking request, Y/N.”

You tried to pull away from him but he fisted the back of your hair, holding you in place.

The raw urgency in his voice played havoc with your emotions. If you closed your eyes, just for a moment, you could shut out all the doubts in your head and simply believe him - but you could only live the fantasy for a short moment before reality forced its way back in. “You don’t mean those words, Billy.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you don’t feel that strongly about me.”

His eyes narrowed, glaring at you with hostility. “You’re gonna tell me how I feel?”

“I’m not what you want.”

“And what do you think I want?”

You gave him a sad smile. “The best of everything. Best car, best clothes, the most beautiful women in your arms. You want all that because you need others to want what you have.”

“Is that so wrong?”

You shook your head. “No, there’s nothing wrong with that – except I don’t fit into any of those categories. You want a woman like Dinah Madani. I’m not her. So eventually this thing between us will end.”

His jaw was set in a grim line, eyes burning bright with rage. “So you have me all figured out, huh?”

“Don’t get mad. You know it’s the truth.”

He yanked you closer, crushing you against him. “It’s been me against the world for as long as I can remember. But when I look at you.” His eyes softened, mouth parting as his dark gaze roamed over your face. “I don’t feel alone anymore.”

Your heart melted. The tenuous handle you had on your self-control disintegrated completely. You closed your mouth over his, kissing him frantically as he picked you up and straddled you across his lap.

He pulled back to look at you. “You’re my home. You’re all I need.”

Part 14

A/N - As always, all of your feedback, comments, asks, likes and reblogs are deeply appreciated. They truly inspire me to keep writing, so thank you from the bottom of my heart.

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#billy russo x reader #billy russo #ben barnes #the punisher #billy russo imagine

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spilledkauffie · 4 years ago

Text

Meet Cute

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x DogMom!Reader Word Count: 1.8k T/W: fluffyyyy A/N: I know it’s a trope, but I love it!

Can you imagine Bucky with a puppy?!?!

Managing six dogs at once wasn’t exactly easy, but you did it rather gracefully, at least most of the time. Today however, you fumbled with your keys at your apartment door when two dogs suddenly, and swiftly wrapped around you, pulling opposite directions. With a small shocked squeak at being squeezed, you accidentally dropped both your keys and a leash, one out of six wasn’t bad, but it was still a loose puppy, trotting around the apartment hall like he owned the place.

“Peanut!” You yelled out of sheer concern as the baby dachshund gallivanted towards the stairs, as if it were his prison break at last, “Peanut, sweetie, come here!” You called again, eyebrows furrowing during your attempt to untwist the other leashed from around you, as he got closer and closer to that first step which was far too steep for him to comfortably and safely make wihtout tumbling down the rest.

You watched in sheer panic as his short stout front legs took the leap of faith with ears flying freely in the air like he was Dumbo. You anticipated the little yelp that would absolutely break your heart— Thankfully there was a soft landing platform neither of you had prepared for. Underneath Peanut appeared two hands covered in black gloves. The small dog fit perfectly in the hands as he wagged his tail, beyond proud of the heart attack he nearly gave you. Sighing, you leaned into the door of your apartment for support.

“Whoa there,” the saviour said, bringing the pup up with him as he stood, having had to dip to catch the pup on the stairs, after glancing at the shining silver bone shaped name tag he met the dog’s eye line, “Peanut, was it?”

As the stranger made his way up the last few steps, you couldn’t take your eyes off him. While you didn’t know him personally, you had seen him around the apartment complex before. Heart still pounding, you shook your head at the pup who was plenty happy in the hands of his rescuer.

“Peanut Butter Brittle Biscuit,” you full named the dog, causing him to tuck his tail, still wagging it though. Setting your hand, which was still being tugged on by the other five other dogs, on your hip, “you know better than to just run into strangers, it's rude.”

“Well, Peanut,” he looked to the pup in all seriousness, “I’m Bucky. There, we aren’t strangers anymore,” he affirmed, shaking the dogs tiny little paw gently, “and so we’re not strangers,” he looked to you, “I’m Bucky, and you are?” You smiled at his flirty tone, “unless you’d like to go by 4C? Keep it professional?”

“Four- C?” You gave a puzzled look.

Bucky pointed above and behind your head, with the hand he was not literally cradling Peanut with. Quickly glancing you realized it was your apartment number. Now feeling a flush of embarrassment, you took a moment to face him again, squeezing your eyes closed.

“Oh yeah,” you nervously laughed, before giving him your name as well, you liked the way he repeated it to himself, “and you’re 2E, right?”

“Do we know each other?” he asked, tilting his head with a smirk.

“Oh no, I just, sometimes I see Yori go down there, and- I’m not stalking you, I promise,” you frantically explained, waving your hand, wrapped in dog leashes.

“No,” Bucky smiled, letting you know that was not what he was thinking, “I think I’d hear you if you were though,” he looked down and around at the literal pack of dogs sitting and standing around you. The pack ranged from a German Shepherd to a Golden Retriever to a Dachshund to a Pomeranian to a Corgi to, lastly, a dopey Great Dane.

“Most definitely,” you laughed, trying to calm your nerves, “we’re not the most graceful bunch, you had a display of that just a moment ago, which thank you so, so much.” You placed your hand over your chest, as an expression of relief.

“No problem,” he said with a sincere nod and smile, petting back the dog’s ears, “looks like Peanut here is a real daredevil.”

“You have no idea,” you glanced at the puppy, “he’s a troublemaker and thinks he’s invincible.”

With that Peanut interjected giving the most babyish attempt at a deep roo, sassily from where Bucky held him still.

“Talker too, huh?” Bucky gave a shocked glance at the Dachshund who was still resting comfortably with his chest being cradled by Bucky's hand.

“Yeah, well we’re 40 minutes late to D I N N E R,” you spelled out the last word in a whisper, “Fridays are always long days,” you gestured around you to the bigger dogs with toys covered in drool, they just stared up at you, sighing you collected yourself, “they’re park days.”

“Ohh, I see,” Bucky nodded, “I'd hate to keep you any longer then.”

With a soft ‘okay’ and a smile, you held your hands out to take Peanut back. There was a brief moment in the exchange where your hands touched his and he gave a ‘sorry’ knowing it was probably cold against your skin. As Peanut hovered with both your hands on his chubby little sides. Your Dane tugged one way again, while the Retriever was determined to go the other, pulling you and Bucky closer together. Practically chest to chest, save Peanut being the barrier between the two of you.

“Oh my gosh,” you whispered, looking down immediately, even though there was hardly room between you two to do so, literally feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, you closed your eyes, “this is not happening.”

“I’ve been in worse situations,” Bucky remarked cooly, keeping his gaze focused on you, finding it surprisingly cute at how flustered you were around him. It’d been a long time since he had felt someone had real genuine human emotions regarding him.

Neither of you took your hands away from the other’s. Standing there you bit in your lip, calming your rising pulse as you were now close enough to smell his cologne.

“I’m-” you started, finally looking up, “so sorry.”

“It’s really okay,” Bucky chuckled, not wanting you to feel as worried as you were, but you just knit your brows together and gave another apologetic look, “honestly, I could- I could do this all day.” There was a pause, then you smiled, ducking your head to hide your face against Peanut who was really becoming a star matchmaker, “I think Peanut and I are going to be very good friends by the end of this.”

Lifting your head with a nod, you sighed, stroking the pup’s ear, for a moment before you guided the other dogs around to give you some more space. Bucky respectfully took a step back, somehow still holding Peanut after all that. You opened your apartment door and the dogs rushed in, you let each leash fall off your hand as they entered. You said their name with each one to keep track of them.

“And lastly,” you exhaled, reaching your arms out again for the troublemaker of whom Bucky surrendered, though he was getting fairly fond of him, “well, at least let me invite you in? Have a drink on me? Something?”

“That’d be great,” Bucky said, gesturing for you to lead the way.

Once you were both in and Bucky shut the door behind him, you let Peanut loose and immediately he ran to his dinner bowl, waiting in anticipation. Offering Bucky to sit at the bar, you set two cold bottles on top of the counter, but before you joined him you got out six dog bowls, making him smile.

“How long have you had them?” Bucky asked, opening his bottle relaxedly with his hand.

“They vary, some for years, but the most recent,” you nodded to Peanut, “only a few months.”

“So uh, why so many?” Bucky inquired.

You squeezed your shoulders up, looking around at all of them, “they needed a home,” you said, soft smile, “each of them came from a broken place, of hurt and pain. That’s all they knew before I took them in, and,” you shook your head smiling wider, looking over to Bucky, “if I could be a part of their healing, I knew I had to be. I can’t think of leaving something to suffer if there’s something that can be done to help.”

“That’s-” Bucky looked to the floor as you rounded the counter, to sit next to him on another bar stool, having just set all the bowls down, “that’s a really great mindset.”

“What about you?” you took a sip, “any pets?”

He swallowed shaking his head, “no, I have a weird work schedule,” he squinted at his own reasoning, hoping it didn’t sound too dumb.

“Oh gotcha,” you nodded, before gesturing with the top of the bottle, “well Rodgers seems to like you.”

Your gesture drew Bucky to look down, sure enough set atop his thigh was your German Shepherd's head, looking up with big eyes and slowly wagging his tail. Bucky pet the dog’s ear, “Rodgers?”

“Yeah, you know after Captain America? He’s ex-military himself so I thought it was fitting,” you bent down to pet the dog yourself.

There was a quietness, Bucky looked away from the dogs and you for a moment. Biting the inside of his lip he felt something he hadn’t in a long time, though he tried to repress it. A part of him felt it was a sign, another part of him told himself to ignore it. Takin another swig, he made his choice

“Hey, if you ever. . . need help with them, I’m,” he hesitated, “I’m usually free Fridays, or- park days.”

“I’d love that,” you smiled leaning back up, “how bout I get your number so we can plan a da-,” you quickly changed your sentence, “a park day.”

While you got up to grab your phone, he flipped open his, seeing the very few contacts and the messages from only one person. Wincing he was a little nervous, this meant opening up. You returned, asking for his number, to which he willingly gave you. Finishing the drinks he said he really should head home, you completely understood, already surprised that he stuck around that long after the incident earlier.

With casual goodbyes, you shut your door and he headed back downstairs. Taking his gloves off, he suddenly felt his phone vibrate. Sitting on his couch he took it out of his pocket. Seeing your name pop up with a “hi 4C here, texting you like I said I would” and a smiley face with a dog emoji made him smile to himself.

He opened it-- it was time to start answering messages, it was time he found his healing.

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seijorhi · 4 years ago

Text

Unprofessional

as promised, the MSBY manager AU 💕

MSBY Black Jackals x female reader

TW non-con, smut, gang-bang, nsfw(ish)

You second guess yourself, now that the Captain’s right here in front of you, fidgeting in your seat like a little kid sent to the principal’s office.

In all fairness, you were the one to ask him to come in early, figuring that it’d be easier to say what you needed to before everyone else arrived, rather than having it eat away at you while you waited for practice to end.

Yet under the scrutiny of his dark eyes, you wonder whether you should have just let it slide. At least for a few more weeks. Taking a formal complaint to the higher ups was a step too far, and you hadn’t wanted to bother the coaches this close to the start of the season for something so… trivial. Meian seemed like the better choice. He’d listen to you and be able to help; you trust the Captain and you know the team does, too. If he told them to back off, they would, you’re almost positive. But now that he’s here, there’s this nagging feeling of-

A hand touches your shoulder, and you flinch at the sudden contact, jerking back to the present.

“Hey,” he says, a slight frown marring his features. “Whatever it is, you can talk to me - don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve been a little out of it lately.”

There’s nothing but concern in his eyes - no judgement, or irritation, and something inside of you eases just a fraction. This is Meian, right from the moment you signed onto the team - granted, only a few months ago - he’s done his utmost to make sure you’ve felt welcomed and part of the team.

You take a breath, offering him a small, tight smile. “I-it’s um, some of the guys- well a few, I guess…” your fingers twist in your lap, and Meian squeezes your shoulder lightly in response.

“Miya hitting on you, right? Getting a little outta hand?” he surmises.

And for a split second, you’re surprised. But really maybe you shouldn’t be. Miya’s the one who’s overt about it, drawling stupid, cheesy pickup lines whenever you walk in, slinging an arm around your side and dragging you close, all the winks and the innuendos about as subtle as a tank.

Of course Meian noticed, but that’s just how Atsumu is. He doesn’t bother trying to hide it because nobody but you seems to mind. And maybe, if that’s all that it was, you’d be able to grin and bear it, but it’s not.

“Yes and… no.”

His brows draw together. “No?”

Taking another deep breath, you begin to tell him everything. Miya’s incessant flirting, all the hugs and touches that fell just the wrong side of what you considered professional. They’re a tactile team, with one notable exception, and you understand that, but the way Bokuto, Hinata and Miya feel comfortable just grabbing you and dragging you around, interrupting you in the middle of whatever task you’re doing to make you pay attention to them is a little alarming.

And then there was the incident last week, when Inunaki had caught you smiling at your phone during their cooldown and called you on it, which drew the attention of the rest of the team - only to have Bokuto snatch it out of your hands and start reading through your messages. Of course, Meian was there for that, putting a stop to it only when the wing-spiker had started reading them aloud, much to your mortification.

But he hadn’t been there two afternoons later, when an old friend of yours had swung by to pick you up and you’d had to deal with half the team glaring daggers at him over your shoulder like a pack of overprotective mother hens.

Even Sakusa, who usually kept his nose out of the others’ nonsense, stood off to the side with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, glowering at your friend until you both disappeared from sight.

The texts that blew up your phone in the hours that followed crossed so many lines, it honestly scared you a little.

Meian doesn’t say a word as you talk, the words flowing easier the more you tell him. It’s not that anything they’re doing is wrong per se. They’re not hurting you, and you think that aside from Miya, the team’s attitude is coming from a good place - some protective, irritating big brother kind of thing.

There’s nothing wrong with it, except the fact that you don’t want any part of it. You’re a professional and this is a job - a new one, an important one. If you ever want anybody to take your dreams of coaching a pro team seriously you cannot have so much as a whisper of anything less than absolute professionalism. God forbid, if rumours start spreading that you were sleeping with somebody on the team you can pretty much kiss your dreams goodbye.

At the end of it, Meian’s chin is resting on his fist, faint dissatisfaction pinching at his face, and for a moment, you’re worried that he’s about to chew you out for wasting his time - you know he’s stressed with the start of the season only days away - but he only sighs, leaning back in his seat and shaking his head.

“Thank you for telling me, I’ll talk to them.”

And it’s like this huge weight just falls off your shoulders and suddenly you can breathe easy. “Thanks, really,” you tell him, and the smile on your face is genuine this time.

“Anytime.”

—

You don’t know when he finds the time to pull them all aside, but the next morning when you walk into the gym and Bokuto catches sight of you, golden eyes widening in delight, he starts to bound towards you-

“Bokuto.”

-and stops mid-stride, face falling like a kicked puppy. His shoulders slump, glancing over his shoulder at the Captain, watching the both of you through narrowed eyes.

He doesn’t say another word to the wing-spiker, turning back around to continue his conversation with Adriah - something about tightening up their blocks before the game against the Adlers - and despite the fact you can see half the team’s attention drawn towards you both, none of them say a word either.

It’s strange, compared to the last few weeks, it’s suddenly like you’re a ghost. They thank you when you pass them their towels and bottles, and for once Hinata sits still when you help him tape up his ankle, though his eyes still follow your every movement with unnerving focus.

They’re polite and respectful, but unless you’re directly addressing them or they need something, it’s like you don’t exist.

Even Atsumu manages to keep his comments to himself when it comes time for the team to stretch out, though judging from the scowl on his face whenever he glances towards the Captain, he’s not particularly thrilled about it.

There’s one more day before game day, and they’ve got bigger things to worry about, but for you it’s like you can suddenly breathe easy. You don’t have to tiptoe around your own discomfort, you can just do your job and help them. It’s not that you hate them, not even Atsumu - though he does grate on your nerves at times - you just can’t afford to let them fuck this up for you.

They’re your team, and you’ll help them and you’ll stand on the sidelines and cheer and support them until you’re red in the face. You’ll celebrate with them and commiserate if they lose, but there has to be a line.

And maybe finally they’re realising that.

Meian sends you home while the others head off to the showers with a clap on your shoulder. “Go home. Today’s been long enough, and you need your rest. We’ve got an early start tomorrow.”

You don’t fight him on it, already feeling the exhaustion creeping through your body.

But after months in this job, it shouldn’t come as a surprise to find that by the time you’ve had a quick catch-up with the coaches about tomorrow’s training, changed and gathered up your things, you find yourself falling into step with Sakusa, freshly showered and also on his way out.

Dark eyes find yours, but he doesn’t say a word - at least until the two of you reach the big double doors at the gym’s entrance. “Do you need a lift home?”

It’s rare of him to offer, but you suppose that it’s later than you’d normally leave, the sun already disappearing beneath the horizon. Nevertheless, you shake your head, “No, it’s only a ten minute walk, I’ll be okay,” you say. And almost as an afterthought you smile and add, “Thank you, though.”

He regards you silently for a moment, but simply shrugs his shoulders, “Fine.”

Sakusa turns to leave, heading off to the carpark when a sudden thought strikes you, and before you can think better of it, you call out to him, “Your lineshots were incredible today, by the way. You played well. And please don’t forget we’ve got an early start tomorrow!”

It’s a pointless statement, on both counts. Sakusa doesn’t crave praise the way some of his teammates do, and you can imagine how little it means coming from you of all people. He’s also the most punctual, usually the first in, preferring to get stretched and warmed up before the rest of the team arrived. But the change in plans was kind of last minute and a reminder never hurts.

Sakusa pauses mid-stride, glancing back at you once more over his shoulder. “I know,” he says, and maybe it’s a trick of the light, but you swear there’s something different in his eyes as he stares back at you. Not angry per se, but… you can’t quite put a finger on it. It’s odd, you think, out of character for the usually aloof spiker. “Captain told us.”

—

It’s still dark when you arrive at the gym, and the lights are all off, not a soul in sight. That in itself doesn’t strike you as odd though, checking your phone you see that there’s still twenty or so minutes until you were all supposed to meet, but you would have thought that the coaches at least would’ve been here, or Sakusa maybe, if not Meian.

“Mornin’ princess,” a familiar voice drawls, and you jump a little at the sudden weight of his arm draping over your shoulders.

Atsumu’s smile is far too wide and upbeat considering it’s only a little after six in the morning. You’re used to a dead-stare, don’t-talk-to-me-until-I’ve-had-caffeine Atsumu, and it’s almost startling enough to make you forget the arm he has around you.

Either that, or you’re just bewildered that he’s actually arrived early for once in his life.

“You’re awfully chipper,” you mutter, trying to shove his arm off of you as you walk in tandem towards the gym. It’s a pointless endeavour - he replaces it a moment later, tugging you closer. “And early. Do you normally do this the day before the season starts, or can we expect to see you bright and early every morning for training?”

The corner of his lip quirks into a lazy smirk, and Atsumu laughs, “Nah, I’m actually late. All the others are already here.”

You’re halfway through fishing for the keys when he just pushes the door open, and you falter. “Wait- they’re here already?” you glance inside, and the lights are all still off and there’s not a soul in sight, but- “I thought Meian said we were meeting at 6:30.”

There’s something in the way that his smirk widens that’s almost unsettling, but he’s already pushing you forward, flicking on the lights as you pass.

“Oh, he did.”

Your eyebrows draw together in confusion, but it’s too early and you’re too tired to try and decipher Atsumu’s cryptic bullshit. He already has you on edge with how close he’s got you - you can feel the heat radiating from his body, the familiar scent of his cologne invading your nose. “Fine, whatever. Just- just put your stuff away, grab the others if they’re here and I’ll see you on the court in a few minutes.”

You try to shrug off his arm, but his grip only tightens, “Nope,” he says, firmly steering the both of you in the direction of the locker room.

“Miya,” you start, squeezing your eyes shut. You can already feel the beginnings of a headache taking root in your skull, but Atsumu just chuckles lightly, patting your shoulder.

“Relax, wouldja? Jeeze, yer so tense!”

With no other sound but the eerie echoing of your footsteps across the linoleum floors, his laugh is too loud, too grating. It sets you on edge, and you have to bite back a scowl of your own and remind yourself that you only have to put up with him a little longer - just until Meian gets here. Unperturbed by your silent irritation, Atsumu continues, “We know how hard you’ve been working lately. We came in early to say thank you, y’know, for everythin’ ya do for us.”

And for one split second, regret fills you, snuffing out the spark of irritation simmering through your veins. Here you are, seconds away from slapping the setter when he is - for the first time in his life - actually trying to do something nice for you. You sigh quietly, smoothing your expression over as he slows down and pulls you to a stop.

He lets you slide out from under his arm, your back to the locker room door, moving so that he’s standing directly in front of you. You open your mouth to speak, an apology on the tip of your tongue, but once again, Atsumu beats you to it. “Yer the best manager we’ve ever had.” He takes your hand in his, twining long fingers with yours and steps closer.

Too close.

“Atsu-”

“We really do care about you - love ya, even - which is why it kinda felt like a kick in the balls when the Cap came and told us ya wanted some space. Said we were bein’ too ‘overbearing’ and ‘inappropriate’, just cause we want ya nice and close.” Dark eyes harden, “It hurt us, baby. You gotta realise that.”

The grip he has on your hand is painfully tight, but you don’t have a moment to focus on that. Not as Atsumu sweeps forward to close the distance between the two of you, his lips crashing against yours. Hungry. Demanding. A tongue snaking between your lips, melding with your own.

His arm snakes behind you to open the door, and for a moment you’re stumbling backwards into the dark-

Only it’s not dark, not as the blinding fluorescent lights flicker on around you, and you’re not stumbling, not as you collide with a warm, muscular chest and strong arms find your middle to steady you.

“You took too long,” Bokuto whines, and you’re yanked from Atsumu’s hold and spun, barely having a second to register the gleaming golden eyes before he’s dragging you into a needy kiss of his own.

Dizzy, lightheaded, your heart thumping erratically, you can’t think straight as his hot, wet mouth moves against yours. Greedy fingers grope and squeeze at your body - utterly frozen in shock, pliant under his touch.

“Aw, quit yer whining, Bokkun,” the blonde growls as Bokuto finally pulls back enough to grant you a few precious gulps of air, gazing at you with a kind of love sick adoration that makes your stomach clench.

A scoff sounds behind Bokuto, “A bit rich, coming from you, Miya. The two of you just are as bad as each other.”

It’s then that you realise the three of you aren’t alone. Wide eyed, on the edge of hyperventilating, you glance over your shoulder to find two pairs of eyes watching; russet eyes blown wide, enraptured, and swirling black depths, narrowed and glaring over at the blonde.

Hinata and Sakusa.

It doesn’t feel real. Even with everything they’ve done so far, their possessive behaviour, their smothering affection - even the kisses, it feels like a fever dream.

Even as Atsumu’s fingers are tugging your jacket off and Bokuto drags you forward, you can’t bring yourself to accept it, to properly fight back against it.

(Not that it would make a difference. They’re professional athletes, and there’s four of them against one of you.)

When your eyes fill with tears, Hinata’s there to brush them away, smiling down at you as he shrugs his own shirt off. “Don’t cry, angel. We’re gonna make you feel amazing, just wait!”

His words don’t fill you with ease. They can’t, not when he has that manic excitement bleeding through his expression - the same one you know he gets when he’s lost in the game, flying across the court like the laws of physics don’t apply to him.

Hands are on you everywhere, teasing and exploring, too many to keep track of. Your clothes are pulled off, tossed aside and discarded without a second thought, and theirs follow suit. Fingers are tweaking your nipples and palming at your breasts, smoothing over the curve of your ass and trailing between your legs to play with your clit.

“So fuckin’ pretty, ain’tcha? Our pretty girl, gonna be such a good little cockwhore for us.”

There’s lips against yours, at your neck, trailing down the column of your throat with a pleased hum. And between the kisses, you think that you’re crying, pleading for them to stop and let you go, but nobody listens as you’re manhandled onto one of the benches.

Your legs refuse to obey you, trembling as you try to kick out and wriggle away, only for rough hands to find your hips and drag you back. “C’mon, baby. Be good for us, you’ve already made us wait so long.”

Somebody smacks your ass and you jolt, crying out, only for a hand to soothe over the welt, another squeezing at your hip in a mockery of reassurance. “Don’t make us have to hurt ya, sweetheart.”

It’s easier, you think, to just close your eyes tight and pray that any second now, you’ll wake up in your bed to the blaring of your alarm. But the moment they flutter shut, teeth digging into your bottom lip as fingers dig into your thighs, warm breath ghosting across your sex, a low voice whispers in your ear, “Look at me.”

And you have no choice but to obey, forcing your eyes open to find Sakusa standing to your side, stroking his cock. It’s pretty, you distantly think, and you suppose that it suits him. Well groomed, long but not terribly thick with a slight curve, flushed pink at the tip and glistening with the pre-cum beading at his slit. His other hand comes to rest on your cheek, cupping it with a gentleness that feels out of place, considering the hunger burning in the black depths of his irises.

He doesn’t say another word as he coaxes your mouth open and guides your head forward to take his cock into your mouth, but the low moan that escapes him as your lips wrap around his length makes you shiver.

Sakusa isn’t gentle as he fucks your mouth, his thumb stroking your cheek as fresh tears well, but it’s hard to focus on that alone when Hinata’s face disappears between your legs, his tongue laving at your cunt, eager for a taste of you.

It doesn’t take long for the other two to join, and you’re manoeuvred between them, forced to sit on Bokuto’s lap, his thick cock stretching you out while Hinata sits between your legs, diligently slurping at your folds, sucking at your clit, one fist wrapped around his own length, lazily pumping it. Sakusa continues to use your mouth to get himself off, uttering backhanded praise between instructions, hissing in pleasure when he hits the back of your throat and you choke around him, while Atsumu has one hand playing with your tits, the other gripping yours, forcing you to jerk him off.

It’s too much for your brain to take.

Your sobs and whimpers, already muffled thanks to the cock in your mouth, are lost to the symphony of grunts and moans, lewd squelching and the sound of skin slapping against skin. There’s too many hands touching you, too much pain fused with unwanted pleasure, overwhelming you as heat and panic and terror build up inside of you, and it feels like there’s an inferno burning beneath your skin, and you can’t breathe and you just want it all to stop, you want to wake up, and-

Suddenly, the door to the locker room snaps open, and all five of you freeze in place as the Captain stops dead in his tracks and eyes the scene before him.

There’s no possible way for Meian to misconstrue it, not with everything you told him. Not with your face flushed and teary, your eyes glazed over and all but broken from the sick, twisted debasement his teammates have subjected you to. You’re naked, your body littered in love-bites and bruises, spread out before him like a feast.

And still, your eyes meet his, silently pleading for him to say something and stop this.

Meian takes a single step forward and a muffled whine leaves your lips as the cock inside of you twitches insistently. Sakusa draws his hips back, pulling himself free from your mouth, and despite the burn in the back of your throat, you swallow and try to speak.

“Please.” It’s little more than a squeak, hoarse and choked, but it doesn’t seem to make a difference.

The Captain barely acknowledges that you’ve spoken at all, his attention fixated instead on your body; the way your pussy’s clenching around the base of Bokuto’s length, the tremor of your thighs under Hinata’s rough hands, the way your tits rise and fall with every quickened breath, your lips, swollen and beautifully fucked, glistening with spit before finally, those dark eyes meet yours once more.

And slowly, a grin breaks across his face. “You’d better hurry it up, the others aren’t too far off.”

#yandere haikyuu #yandere atsumu miya #yandere bokuto kotaro #yandere hinata shouyo #yandere sakusa kiyoomi #yandere atsumu x reader #yandere bokuto x reader #yandere hinata x reader #yandere sakusa x reader #tw non con #i honestly don't know how i feel about this one #but it's done #i hope y'all like it anyway #i'm posting it before i can overthink it

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