#just want to be with them all day and never go back to work
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
fantasizing about bf! katsuki paying for his pretty little girlfriend's nails because he wants to spoil you rotten.
at first, you were reluctant to book an appointment because you didn't have the time or the money. however, your pro hero boyfriend was wealthy, insistent, and super fucking stubborn.
âwoman, if itâs something you want, iâll pay for it," katsuki says softly, enjoying the feeling of resting his chin on the top of your head.
you were currently cuddling on your shared bed in the apartment, one of those slow days where you both had nothing to do but relax in each others arms. "i can drive you there if its a problem. no big deal.â
"katsuki, i can't ask you to do that," you say, looking up at him. "its too much. i'll just buy press ons or somethingâ"
katsukiâs face scrunches up in the disgust at the idea of you using those press ons. back when you just moved in a few months into the relationship, those damn press ons were always everywhere around the apartment.
and sometimes, it'd get awkward when you're digging your nails into his flesh, moaning softly around him as he thrusts into you but then you make him stop half-way because your nail fell from the bed.
it got to the point where he found one of them under the drawer where you kept your... toys, and he knew they had to go. it took you some convincing, so he wasn't about let his hard work die in vain now.
"fuck no. i ainât letting you walk around wearin' that cheap ass shit again," he scowled at you. "and the hell you canât ask me. you're not askin', i'm offerin.â
"i dunno, katsuki..." you bit your bottom lip, reluctant to accept. it was nice that your boyfriend wanted to treat you but you couldn't help but feel guilty. "i don't wanna bother you. i don't need it that much 'nyway. and you could just spend your money on.. well, other things."
"the only thing botherin' me is you being difficult," he pouts at you, leaning down to give your lips a soft peck. "so, sweets, shut up. just let me take care of you, alright?"
and you were grateful you let him take care of you as you admired your freshly done nails a few days later, the glossy finish catching the light perfectly. you couldnât stop smiling, especially when you remembered telling your nail tech about katsuki and she told you: "girl, hes so doing this because hes gonna propose. please say yes, for the love of god!"
of course, you wanted to express your gratitude for him. and what better way to thank him by wrapping your hands around his cock, fingers lingering on his length, showing off your new nails to him?
"fuck," katsuki hisses, breath shallow as he looks down at you. "god, baby, you look so pretty like this..."
you were on your knees, only wearing his shirt and your panties as a hand jerks off his length. the other holds his hand, fingers intertwined as you mouthed at his cock. you licked on the throbbing, pink tip, sucking the precum out of him with a blissed out expression.
you almost looked like you were in a trance. and seeing you there, looking all pretty and disheveled like a succubus, never failed to make his cock hard.
"yeah?" you look up at him with smiling eyes, pulling away from his cock with a soft, wet pop, rubbing a thumb on his aching tip before flicking your tongue at it again.
katsuki canât hold back the soft moan that leaves his lips, his head lolling back as he tries to keep his breathing under control. he groans, his hips bucking against your touch.âfuckin' hell, woman, yeah.. so pretty.. just like that..."
katsuki's hand tightens around yours, looking at your newly manicured nails. he lifts your hand up, admiring them. the glossy finish really does look so pretty on you.
âfuck. they look so beautiful,â he murmurs, bringing your hand up to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. "look so beautiful wrapped around my cock..."
"thank you, baby.." you flush a little, your tongue swirling around his tip. "..really appreciate it, i do. hope this serves as a nice thank you.."
katsukiâs face is tinged with a faint blush, his expression softening at your words.
âno need to thank me, sweets. your happiness is all the thanks i need. but thisâ shit,â he lets out a low moan when you suck on his tip again. "this is always.. a nice surprise..â
"surprise?" you smile. "you didn't think i'd do this to you..." you lap up his tip in between words. "after being so nice to me?"
katsuki lets out a quiet laugh, âyou wanted to make me feel good, sweets? yeah? that why youâre on your knees for me?â
he gives you a playful grin, watching as your hand continues to move over his cock. his free hand tucks a strand on hair in between your ears, cupping your cheek. âalways my good girl..â
you flush with embarrassment, thighs clenching from his words. "shut up.. bet if i bought you something you like, you'd go down on me too..."
katsuki canât help but bark out a laugh at your comment, the image of you buying him a gift and him then going down on you was an appealing thought. but. he grabs your chin and tilts it up, forcing you to look at him and slowing down the pace.
âoh, baby. iâd make you feel so good. i'd eat you out like you were my last meal."
he gestures for you to open your mouth, his thumb tugging down your chin. and when you do, he suddenly spits on your tongue. you felt strangely vulnerable, swallowing it as his thumb rubs your swollen lips.
"but no way youâre buying me shit. thatâs my job. to spoil you," his eyes darken at the sight of you sucking on his thumb, roaming over the concave of your mouth.
embarassment rose to your cheeks as you looked up at him, feeling flustered. "but... i wanna spoil you too."
he lets out a low hiss, feeling the vibrations of your hum around his thumb. he pulls his thumb out, his hand coming down to grab your chin, leaning down to face you.
"don't even think about it, sweets. i'm not asking," he tilts his head at you with a pout. "if you so much as buy me a pack of gum, iâm going to take you on a trip to bali."
your eyes widened in surprise, not sure how to, and voice your concern. a trip to bali would be great, but you just wanted to give him something too. "isn't that... uhm, isn't that a bit much?"
"don't give a shit. just let me have this one, alright?" he sighs, looking down at you.
"i want to take care of you," katsuki stroked your cheek with his thumb, a small smile creeping onto his face. "i like seeing that smile on your face when i do. makes me happy."
you felt your heart almost burst, looking at him with what feels like so much affection. he was just showing you so much love, how could you not melt?
katsuki knew he was getting soft, clicking his tongue at you. he scoffs, rolls his eyes and squeezes your cheek. "your nails looks cute anyway. got that?"
you bit your lip. whats the worse he could do when you bought him something anyway? after a moment of contemplation, you nodded, katsuki's grin spreading across his lips.
"good. now, get up here and gimme a kiss."
you nodded again, your heart racing as you stood up and perched yourself on his lap, breath hitching when you feel his cock press against your damp panties before pulling him in for a gentle, but passionate kiss.
katsuki groans into the kiss as you straddle his lap, his hands immediately finding your hips and pressing you down against his bulge. you can feel how hard he is beneath you, whimpering as he deepens the kiss.
âsuch a pretty thing,â katsuki murmurs, feeling how wet you are against him, looking down at the heat of your arousals. âgettin' me this hard and still having this onâŚâ
katsuki's finger tugs on your panties as he kisses you in between words. he fists his cock, and hits the fat tip against your panties, hissing softly from underneath you. "you're so fuckin' wet, sweets, and i've barely even touched you..."
"katsuki..." you whimper, whining as you feel the head of his cock against you, almost kissing your clit through your panties. "please... can't handle it anymore... please, j-justâ"
katsuki lets out a soft growl, leaning into your shoulder to bite on the curve of the skin. you squeal when you feel his lips and teeth graze your shoulder, sinking into your flesh, just wanting more of him, whining his name.
"please what, baby?" he murmurs, kissing the skin he's bruised on you. "be a good girl and use your words."
"wanna.. say thank you," you gasp, slowly grinding yourself on him. "please... please, fuck me.. katsuki.."
katsuki grins against your skin. there she was. his needy little thing he loved so much, practically begging to be ruined.
youâre suddenly on your back, the couch cushion soft against your back.
âatta girl.. now weâre getting somewhere,â his hands are already on your shirt, roughly yanking it up. âyou gonna be a good girl and do what i tell you?â
you nodded eagerly, breathless as you let him strip you. not like you wanted anything else anyway. you tug down hard on your panties, tossing them to the floor and leaving you naked, your soft skin hitting the cold air.
katsuki watches as you kick off your panties, clearly looking all too pleased. he shifts, his torso hovering above you and caging you in between the couch. one hand moves up to your chin, pinning you to the couch and forcing you to look at him.
âyouâre gonna cum screaming my name, got it?â
you hold onto his back, nodding as you whine from underneath him, ready to take what he could give you.
and when your newly-manicured nails digged into his skin as he thrusts into you, hot red nail marks decorating his back, katsuki felt nothing but pure bliss.
#bakugo katsuki smut#bakugo smut#katsuki smut#bakugou katsuki smut#bakugou smut#bnha smut#mha smut#bakugou x reader#bnha bakugo katsuki#bnha bakugou#katsuki bakugo mha#bakugou katsuki x reader#mha bakugo katsuki#mha bakugou#katsuki bakugou#mha#bnha katsuki#bnha drabble#bnha#mha imagines#mha bakugo x reader#mha fluff#bakugo katsuki#katsuki bakugo#bakugou katsuki#bakugo fluff#bakugo katsuki x reader#bakugo x reader#bakugou fluff#bakugou imagine
665 notes
¡
View notes
Note
Any thoughts for WETnesday with Bucky?đ¤đ¤
Okay, Syd. I wrote this after work for Wetnesday and promptly fell asleep. So, I'm posting this on Thirsty Thursday! And that has to be Mr. Barnes before you two are married.
Dinner Plans
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Summary: Bucky doesn't want to be late for dinner, but you don't seem to be in a rush to go.
Word Count: Over 2.8k
Warnings: Established relationship, quick unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, lovelies), possessive behavior, a bit of humor and fluff, feels, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).
A/N: I love this couple, okay? @targaryenvampireslayer and @starlightcrystalline, I hope you enjoy! â¤ď¸ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!
It was still early in the evening as Bucky got ready for dinner. Checking his watch once he put it on, he sighed. If he was late, Steve would give him a hard time. And if Steve gave him a hard time, Sam would only give him the gasoline to fuel the fire. Just the thought of it had his face shift to his grumpy stare you loved.
His gaze softened when you went to the vanity. Would the guys give him a hard time if he said he was in love and wanted as much alone time with you as possible? How being with you was like floating on a cloud and being pulled back down to earth all at once? He didnât care if theyâd call him out for being sappy. He sure as hell suffered enough in his life that he could afford to be appreciative of you and maybe a little selfish when it came to you.
But checking the time, he grumbled. âWe were supposed to leave five minutes ago,â he said.
He wouldâve rather gone to a hole in the wall kind of place or a diner to have dinner, but it wasn't his turn to pick the dinner out with some of the gang. Plus it was nice getting to dress up with you since you liked how he looked in suits. To be fair, you said he looked good in anything and he felt the same way about you. How you always managed to look like a goddess, heâd never know.
You hummed. âWe still have a few minutes to spare,â you said, which he wasnât sure how you knew since you hadnât looked at the time. âAnd you are not dressed yet, so itâs not like we can head out the door.â
He paused to stare at you. âNeither are you,â he pointed out, licking his lips as you leaned forward a bit more as you applied your makeup. He shook his head after a moment, trying to snap himself out of the spell you always managed to put him under. âIâm bringing you one of my cardigans to put over your shoulders in case you get cold.â
Because the weather was nice for the evening, you picked out a sleeveless dress. He didnât know if the restaurant would be cold though, and he didnât want you shivering through the meal. You likely had something to match your dress, but putting one of his cardigans over you was like that extra touch of belonging to him in case anyone got any ideas.
âYou just want one of your shirts draped over me like a big neon sign that says Iâm yours and you don't want guys checking me out on my dress,â you said like you knew exactly what he was thinking. There was no reason to deny your words since it was the truth. âBut I appreciate the thoughtfulness.â
âI do like my clothes draped over you,â he smirked. He liked having his smell on you, too. âBut you know what I donât like? Steve and Sam bitching if weâre late. Itâll spoil my appetite.â
âAww, my poor super soldier,â you teased, smiling at him in your reflection and making his heart skip a beat. âIf weâre late, you can just blame me. I wonât let them give you a hard time, okay?â
Bucky couldnât blame you though. Not entirely. You were late getting in the shower thanks to him insisting on the two of you staying in bed. Serum stamina or whatever you wanted to call it, but he felt bad some days for his almost constant need. You didnât seem to mind though.
âThey wonât believe me,â he said, staring again when the strap of your bra slipped from your shoulder. âAnd baby, you know I adore you, but you need to quit distracting me so I can finish getting dressed.â
Ever since you moved in, youâd been a distraction in a wonderful way. He often found that heâd pause to look at photos or little touches you incorporated into the place, giving him a chance to reflect on memories you made together and even learn more about who you were before you met. Hearing your laughter or voice call to him from another room also made him drop whatever he was doing, too. Sharing a space with someone could be daunting, but it was easy with you, like you had lived together for years. It made him look forward to more.
âMe? Distracting you?â You turned your head toward him and gave him an innocent glance. You were anything but innocent. âI'm not doing anything.â
Bucky almost snarled. Like hell you weren't doing anything. Swaying your hips and prancing around in your lingerie before you sat to get ready, lingerie which barely covered your gorgeous tits and sweet cunt. He wanted to rip it to shreds or tear it off with his teeth. You wouldnât mind, right? He could always get you more to destroy.
âNot doing anything? Look at you,â he said incredulously as you turned back to the mirror and pushed your bra up. He shouldâve been holding your breasts. âWhy aren't you wearing a robe?â
You tilted your head. âWell, you said before I got in the shower that we were in a slight rush, so I figured putting on the robe was a waste of time. At least I have my underwear on, though I know youâd rather I be naked.â
If Bucky had his way, youâd be naked all the time. At least, when you two were at home. Logically he knew he couldnât have that at work, functions, or anything of that nature, but the image in his head was nice. âFor such a rush you seem to be taking your time.â
âI'm not taking my time. I'm finishing my makeup,â you argued, carefully applying your lipstick. âLike it?â you asked, blowing him an air kiss. It was a pretty shade. It would look even prettier smeared around his cock.
He closed his eyes with a groan. Some days he felt like a caveman with the thoughts that consumed him. âYou look beautiful,â he said once he opened his eyes. Like always. âNow get your dress on so I can show you off before I put the cardigan on you.â
âShow me off?â You slowly stood from your chair and gave him a generous view of your backside. His cock twitched in his pants, and there was no reason to hide the pure lust in his eyes when you turned to face him. âYou flatter me, Mr. Barnes.â
He chuckled. It always did something to him when you called him Mr. Barnes. It was something affectionate, sweet. âI think youâre the one flattering me, Mrs.-â he exhaled before he could finish, and he heard the hitch in your breath across the room.
âWhat was that?â you asked breathily.
He adjusted the watch on his wrist and avoided your gaze. You were his girl, yeah, and the love you had for each other spoke volumes, but you werenât his wife. Not yet. God, how he wanted you to be- for you to take his last name, wear his ring on your finger, be his partner in all aspects of life. He wanted it to be more than just a dream.
âI didnât sayâŚâ He cleared his throat and put on a blank face, only because he didnât know how youâd react. âAnything.â
Your eyes raked over him before you beckoned him forward with a finger. He swore no one would ever control him again after HYDRA brainwashed him, but you couldâve commanded him to do anything. It didnât frighten him because you would never harm him, never take advantage of him. Taking him into your care and maintaining his trust was one of the ways you showed you loved him.
Once he stood in front of you, barely an inch away, you whispered, âWere you about to call me Mrs. Barnes?â
He swallowed hard, his heart racing. It was one thing to say you loved each other, to want a future together, but what if you werenât ready when he popped the question? âI was,â he whispered back.
You smiled, not looking the least bit put off or afraid. He should've known it wouldn't bother you, especially with you being the one to say âI love youâ first. âI think that has a really nice ring to it,â you said, your hands moving to unbuckle his belt.
âYou think so?â he asked, forgetting for a moment that he was capable of breathing. âYou like the idea of being my wife?â
Bucky would no doubt be the kind of husband whoâd brag about you. Heâd find ways to insert âmy wifeâ in conversations just to let others know that you picked him out of everyone else on the planet. Not just that, he wanted people to know how proud he was to be your man and that heâd find reasons every day to be proud of you.
âI love it,â you confirmed, sighing when he ran his fingertips along your arms. âMakes my heart race,â you admitted. He could hear it. âMakes me wet.â
Bucky arched his hips and pressed up against you. âBaby, youâre gonna kill me,â he whispered, not stopping you as you unbuttoned his pants. He was thinking of just cancelling dinner so he could throw you on the bed and stay inside you for the rest of the night. âWe need to-â
âOh. Now might be a good time to tell you that Steve pushed the reservation back by a half hour,â you cut in, mouthing over his racing pulse. âHe figured heâd message me since Iâm better about checking my phone, and-â
Bucky picked you up with ease and tossed you onto the bed. Your wide-eyed expression as you bounced nearly had him busting out of his pants, and he didnât hesitate to crawl over you and pin you down. Relishing in the moan you let out when he lightly bit your neck, he did it again a little harder. âNo wonder you took your time and teased me,â he smirked when you squirmed beneath him. âMy future wife.â
âMy future husband,â you moaned, bucking your hips up. âNeed you in me. We can be quick.â
You got a hand in his hair and forced his head up to yours, your tongue impatiently pushing into his mouth. He groaned in understanding, feeling just as desperate as you. Knowing how turned on you were at the thought of being his wife turned him on, and he could barely form a coherent thought as he took his cock out and gave it a couple of quick pumps.
âSay it again,â he demanded, shoving your panties aside and rubbing the head of his cock along your slit. He took his time earlier today stretching you, and he wanted nothing more than to feel you around him again.
And the way you reached between your bodies and gripped the base of his cock, he knew you wanted the same when you said, âFuck me, my future husband.â
He eased in gently, making you whine. He thought heâd whine, too, for a second because of how good he felt. God, how good it would feel to hold your hand one day and feel his ring against your skin. âYou okay?â he asked, dragging his thumb along your lower lip once he was fully inside you. You were tight still, so wet, and oh, he was going to fuck you and make it quick, but he wasnât going to hurt you.
âIâm okay,â you whispered, starting deep into his eyes as you clenched around him with purpose and brushed his hair back. He tried to be still, tried not to thrust like a wild animal. âAre you?â
âIâm okay,â he promised, easing his hips back. âJust hold on while I fuck you.â
Your back arched when he slammed himself back in nice and deep, your cry bouncing off the walls. Here in the comfort of your home you didnât have to smother any noises, didnât have to keep quiet. He wanted to tell you how much he loved you, how you were the queen of his world.
Being inside you all he got out was, âYou feel so fucking good.â
And because you could read him like no one else could, you tenderly smiled. âI love you, too.â
He threw his head back as you clutched his arms, determined to make you feel good, determined to show you how much he loved you even as he fucked you. âGonna put you on your hands and knees after dinner. Make you watch in the mirror while I fuck you,â he groaned. âCan imagine it's part of our honeymoon.â
âPlease!â you moaned, trying to meet his thrusts.
Bucky grabbed your thighs to lift you higher, uncaring if he ruined his pants for the evening. Watching you tremble beneath his, a vision of ecstasy, he was happy to stay there forever. Wrapped up in you was where he always wanted to be.
âGonna come,â you moaned, reaching up to pull his hair again, your body quaking. âBucky, please.â
Bucky groaned. He hadnât rubbed your clit how he wanted to. Didnât get to tear your bra off and tease your nipples. He did promise to fuck you later though, and heâd do all those things and more. âThen come for me,â he smirked, leaning down to say against your lips, âFuture. Mrs.. Barnes.â
You got impossibly tight and the flood of wetness that gushed around him triggered his own orgasm, a rush of heat filling him as he filled you. His mouth fell open as you clung to him, and he heard you moan his name as your eyes went glossy. He wanted the image of you getting off to taking his last name etched in his brain for all time. He wanted his name to fall from your lips again and again on your wedding night.
The cloud in his mind began to lift. You, his future wife, were beneath him, still shaking, still holding him like a lifeline. He didnât want to let you go either. âHoly⌠shitâŚâ you panted.
He braced himself above you, trying not to crush you as the euphoria slowly faded. It never really went away though. Not with you. âHoly shit,â he agreed. He stayed inside you, your sweet mewl making him smile as he kissed you. âIs this a new kink?â he asked, pressing his forehead to yours.
âYeah,â you exhaled, touching his cheek. âNew kink unlocked.â
Touching your lips with his once more, he chuckled. âYou ruined my pants,â he teased. It wouldnât have been the first time. The first time you rode his thigh and got your release all over it, he nearly came, too. âGood thing I have a few minutes to change.â
He cradled you close when he shifted to the side, making you moan again. âYeah, well, you ruined my panties. Fair is fair.â
âI did,â he smirked, running his fingers along your spine. âHey.â
âHey what?â
âI love you,â he whispered, wanting to say it as often as he could. They werenât just words, but a declaration, a promise.
âI love you, too,â you whispered back, tracing one of the buttons on his wrinkled shirt.
His lips brushed your forehead. Heâd never get tired of hearing you say that. âIf I asked you to marry me right now, would you say yes?â
He wouldnât propose right this second. You deserved something more romantic. But in his heart, he just wanted to hear you say that youâd say yes.
You giggled, your eyes full of love. âI would say yes in a heartbeat,â you replied, kissing him gently. Your answer relieved him. âAnd Iâd marry you anytime, anywhere.â
He raised an eyebrow. âBut?â he asked, sensing a âbutâ in there.
âBut donât ask me right now, okay?â you smiled, in sync with his thoughts. âI mean, Iâd like to think my pussy would make you propose now-â
âAnd it would,â he smirked.
You giggled again. âBut ask me when Iâm not expecting it⌠Whenever it feels right to you.â
âI will,â he promised.
âLooking forward to it.â You snuggled closer and missed his look of adoration. âHold me for one more minute before we get ready to go?â
As if he could ever deny you. âIâll hold you as long as you want,â he whispered.
He no longer cared if Steve or Sam gave him shit should they show up late. If you wanted him to skip dinner just to hold you, heâd do it. If you wanted him to surprise you when he proposed, he would. And no matter when Bucky asked you to be his wife, heâd make sure it was perfect as it could possibly be.
AHH! I love them so much. How do you lovelies think he proposed? â¤ď¸ Love and thanks for reading! â¤ď¸
Masterlist â Bucky Barnes Masterlist â Ko-Fi
#navybrat writes#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fanfic#bucky barnes fic#bucky barnes imagine#bucky x reader#bucky x female reader#bucky x you#bucky fanfic#bucky imagine#x reader#james buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#the winter soldier#winter soldier#sebastian stan#sebastian stan x reader#sebastian stan characters#a united front au#mr. and mrs. barnes#bucky barnes smut#bucky barnes x f!reader
464 notes
¡
View notes
Text
As someone who is relatively new to fanfics, I have to say I donât really understand some of these interactive processes. To me, a fic is like a home cooked meal. I may taste something and decide itâs not for me or I may go back for thirds â but my ability to consume or enjoy it at all is due to the person who created it. As I would never sit down and eat a meal someone cooked without saying thanks (and gushing about what I loved most), I canât really fathom reading and just walking away without saying thanks. In all but a very few instances I hit the kudos button because it cost me $0.00. Even if I didnât think it was the greatest thing Iâve ever read, Iâm at least saying âthanks, you did the damn thing and kudos to you for putting it out there.â
It seems like a level of rudeness I canât fathom to not say how much I enjoyed a story if I did (to the point that Iâve been mulling over a fic I read last night all and itâs bothered me I didnât leave a comment and only a kudo - I will be fixing that when I log in tonight because even if the fic is âoldâ or other people already said it, the author deserves to know the story haunted me all day and that I enjoyed it.) Youâre privileged enough to enjoy someoneâs art (which sometimes is a huge investment of their time and efforts) for free. It feels like the least I can do is acknowledge (again, for free!) that I enjoyed it or that I want to show the author support to keep writing.
As a writer, I admit that I spend a lot of time squinting at hits vs. kudos and trying to extrapolate if people enjoyed. I assume that if my work has hits but not kudos that someone read (or attempted it) and decided they didnât like it/it wasnât for them and that it was so bad they didnât want to even give me a thumbs up for making an effort. I assume this, because I assume other people consume fic like I do. Reading OPâs story really makes me scratch my head⌠like people may pull up a chair to my table where Iâve spent weeks âcooking upâ something, enjoy it, and walk off without even saying thanksâŚand then go tell other people how great it was? No disrespect to people who donât kudo/comment on everything they enjoy, but I guess Iâm just stunned people wouldnât even bother to click a button to say thanks if they thought it was a worthwhile effort.
Idk, I gotta go log in and tell someone how much I enjoyed something I read yesterday and keep being an outlier, I guess, lol.
A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.
My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.
My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.
This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.
Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.
I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.
So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.
#fanfiction#fanfic#ao3 writer#ao3 fanfic#fanfic writing#writer stuff#ao3#comments are the currency of the realm#thank you for every story you have written and shared#writing is hard#writing is fun#comments are life#archive of our own
30K notes
¡
View notes
Note
Pookie! I need you to write me something pretty please :)
Can you write Remus comforting a reader with an anxiety disorder when someone told them "there's nothing to be anxious about. You just want attention" ??? Pretty please?? Love you pookieeeeeee
Thanks for requesting!
cw: mean girl stuff, social anxiety
Remus Lupin x fem!reader ⥠929 words
âShh.â Remus holds you close to his chest, his hand moving up and down your arm now that your crying has slowed. âItâs okay. Itâs just us, yeah?âÂ
âYeah,â you echo, croakily. Youâre glad you canât see your boyfriendâs face, for fear youâd die of embarrassment otherwise. The looming insecurity of your day stands over you like a grim reaper.Â
You arrived home from a friendâs birthday dinner to find Remus sitting on the couch, already marking the page of his book as he turned to you with a soft smile.Â
âHi, sweetheart. How was it?âÂ
You replied, through a laugh that turned into a sob halfway through, âNot great.âÂ
The dinner had been an event of foreboding for you since your invite. Youâd been determined to be a good friend by not bailing, but actually going had confirmed your worst fears; it was loud, crowded, filled with people you didnât know and didnât fit with. Your outfit wasnât right, the menu was daunting, and conversation swirled all around you about things you werenât a part of. The fallout was basically inevitable.Â
You perhaps waited too long to excuse yourself. You were sweating buckets and breathing around a lump by the time you did, whispering an explanation to your friend before locking yourself into a bathroom stall to talk yourself down. Youâre sure she didnât mean anything by telling the people sitting closest to her why you were goneâyou donât think sheâd do it to gossip, and sheâs never talked down to you about that sort of thing, at least not to your faceâbut by the time you returned one of her friendsâa stranger to you, whoâs name you canât even rememberâhad formulated a fairly decisive opinion and dubbed you an attention seeker.Â
You stayed only a little longer after that. Just long enough to avoid attracting more attention. And you worked yourself up well enough on the way home that all it took was one innocent question from Remus to send you crumpling into his arms.Â
Youâve tried to steel yourself more than once, but any attempts at stoicism have been foiled by your boyfriendâs tender looks and whispered placations, which only make you cry harder. If youâre an attention seeker, Remus is your holy grail. Self loathing sits lodged in your throat like a stone.Â
âWhose friend was it, again?â Remus asks, stroking your arm gently.Â
You take a breath, trying to steady your voice. âDoes it matter?âÂ
âI donât mean itâs your friendâs fault, sweetheart,â Remus says. Heâs all softness and patience, better than you could ever deserve. âI just thought you might talk to her, if you want to. She ought to know her friend is going around saying cruel things.âÂ
âShe was there.â Your throat tightens at the memory.Â
âOh. Then I donât suppose you need to say anything; Iâm sure sheâs already very upset for you.âÂ
You try to laugh, frustrated with yourself when it only seems to spur another wave of tears. âRem. Youâre biased.âÂ
âWhat?â Remus sounds genuinely surprised. âYou donât think sheâs angry with that other girl?â
âSheâs her friend.âÂ
âSo are you.â His arms tighten around you protectively, chin bumping your head. âI may be biased, but the other girl was clearly in the wrong. Thereâs no excuse for the way she acted.âÂ
A dozen rebuttals fly about your head, but you keep your mouth shut. You donât have the energy to argue. Unfortunately, Remus hears your argument in the silence anyway.Â
âSweetheart,â he says softly, âno one puts themselves through what you do for attention. You donât choose to feel that way.â
You hunch your back, tucking your head underneath his chin. âI do get attention for it, though.âÂ
âThat doesnât mean you want it.âÂ
âBut Iââ
âDo you want it?â You canât see Remus, but you hear the hardened edge to his tone. âDid you like it, when that girl called attention to you in the middle of the dinner?âÂ
Your voice smalls. âNo.âÂ
âRight.â The gentleness returns. Remus puts his lips to your head. âI know you didnât, dovey. So donât torment yourself, please. She doesnât know anything about you.âÂ
You push your lips together. He lets you chew on your next words for a while, his thumb swiping softly back and forth over your upper arm, the sleeve of your top shifting slightly with the motion.Â
âWhat ifâŚâ You gnaw the inside of your cheek. Remus waits. âWhat if everyone thinks that?âÂ
âMm. Well, for what itâs worth, I donât think most people would. Surely not anyone who knows you, or anyone worth being around.â He takes a breath, thinking. âYou canât always control what people think. I know you say Iâm biased, but anyone who thinks something like that really isnât worth thinking about at all. Youâve got enough going through that head of yours, yeah?â He kisses your hair fondly.Â
âI guess so,â you admit.Â
âYeah,â Remus decides. He pulls away to see your face, pushing hair away from your tacky cheeks. âIâd say so.âÂ
You wonder if you look as horrendously in love as you feel. You think you must, because your boyfriendâs expression softens impossibly further as he turns his head to give you a proper kiss. You feel raw but comforted, and suddenly, totally exhausted.Â
âLet the bullies worry about themselves.â Remus gives you a tender look. âIâll worry about you.âÂ
You let a small smile tilt your lips. âAnd what am I left to worry about?âÂ
âNothing,â he says solemnly. âThink you can manage that?âÂ
âNope.âÂ
âMm. Well, try.âÂ
#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x fem!reader#remus lupin x you#remus lupin x y/n#remus lupin x self insert#remus lupin fanfiction#remus lupin fanfic#remus lupin fic#remus lupin hurt/comfort#remus lupin fluff#remus lupin imagine#remus lupin scenario#remus lupin drabble#remus lupin blurb#remus lupin one shot#remus lupin oneshot#marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fandom#the marauders#hp marauders#marauders era#marauders x reader
297 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Series masterlist
You had never given him your address, so dinner was forgotten about. You never brought it up again, and neither did Oscar.
Until you were sitting at the vanity in your childhood bedroom, amelia watching as you got ready for the day. "Mama," whe began, the bench beneath you moving every time she swung her legs. "When is Oscar coming over for dinner?"
You stopped with your makeup the second the memories of asking him came flooding back. "I don't know, 'melia," you answered honestly, putting your foundation down. "But we'll ask him today."
Your daughter was a wild child. You couldn't control her. The second Oscsr entered your line of sight in the park, wearing his workout gear, Amelia ran towards him. Still holding Coopers pram, you couldn't catch up with her.
But you didn't need to worry. Oscar hugged her and held her hand, walking her back towards you. "My mummy wants to know if you can come to ours for dinner," she said.
No, Amelia was meant to ask, not ask for you. But that was exactly what had happened. Your eyes were wide as you looked at Oscar. He matched your expression.
But then he crouched down, meeting Amelia's height. "I'd love to, 'melia," he said and held out his hand, high fiving her.
***
It hadn't been easy to convince your mother and brother to leave for the night. With embarrassment written on your face, you confessed that you were having someone over for dinner.
A friend, just a friend. Yes, the friend that you, Cooper and Amelia met at the park. No, it's not something romantic. Yes you will kick him out before 10pm so they can come back.
Your brother was laughing at you as he and your mother left the apartment.
Getting all three of you AND the apartment ready was no easy task. You got amelia dressed, sparkly shoes and cute little bow in her hair. You put Cooper down to sleep and left his baby monitor on the kitchen counter, listening for him.
The ingredients for dinner were left out on the side, a bottle of white wine accompanying it.
Just before seven, there was a knock on the door. Amelia held your leg as you pulled the door open, revealing Oscar.
White shirt and jeans. It was a simple outfit, but it worked so damn well on him. You swallowed, holding back to inappropriate whistle you were ready to release and stepped aside to welcome him into your mother's apartment.
It was a little embarrassing. Single, with two kids, living in your mother's apartment. You didn't hide that fact from Oscar. It was the circumstances life had thrown that way, and you weren't going to let it hold you back.
Oscar sat at the table as Amelia showed him the crafts she had done at nursery. "And at Christmas we can make decorations! I wanna make something to put on grandma's tree!"
Oscar grinned as he looked at her paintings. "Would you make something for my tree, 'melia?" He asked and she nodded.
"Yeah!"
You laughed at your place at the stove. Every time Oscar asked if he could help, you shook your head and sat him back down, fingers lingering on his chest for longer than you meant for them to.
You picked up the baby monitor and listened for any noise from Cooper. Nothing. Your baby was fast asleep.
Plating up the foot, you sat opposite Oscar. You talked between bites of food, learning more about each other. It was more details than you'd discussed in the park, more intimate details.
About his childhood. His dreams (although he kept it brief). His family life, living in Australia, going to school in England. It was all so interesting.
After dinner, you put Amelia to bed. She was reluctant, making you use the stern mum voice. Amelia huffed as she got into her pyjamas. But she hugged you and climbed into bed.
Grabbing your glass of wine, you led Oscar over to the couch. He sat beside you and placed his own glass on the coffee table.
Tucking your legs beneath you, you sipped your wine. Oscar swallowed and asked the question that had been playing on his mind. "What happened for you to be living with your mum?" He asked, adding a quiet 'if you don't mind me asking'.
Your mother didn't even know what happened. Your hand shook as you put the glass down, looking back towards the hallway, to the room Amelia was sleeping in (your oldest brothers room had becomes hers for when you stayed over. Perks of giving birth to the first grandchild).
"Amelia's dad was an asshole," you muttered, folding your arms over your chest. "He was sweet all the time I was pregnant with Amelia and Cooper, but things changed the moment I gave birth. The shouting and screaming, spending all of the money I had saved to take care of my kids while I was out of work-" You didn't go into details about the worst bits. "-I knew I had to get out of there. So, I came to stay with my mother."
For a moment, Oscar was quiet. "Yeah," he agreed. "Sounds like an asshole."
You released a weak laugh. "Thank you for agreeing to this," you whispered, moving slightly closer to him. "Amelia really likes you."
"Is she the only one?" He asked it so fast, you almost didn't hear it. But you moved closer, pressing your lips against his cheek. When you pulled away, his cheek was stained with lipstick. You moved to wipe it away, but Oscar caught your hand, stopping you.
***
It was just before ten when Charles Leclerc escorted his mother back to her apartment. "She's fine, mama," Charles said as he pushed his key into the lock and twisted it. "She's a big girl now."
He opened the door and let his mother walk in. The apartment was quiet, but that was to be expected. You had kicked your date out, as you agreed, and Cooper and Amelia were asleep.
The kitchen was a state, not yet cleaned up after dinner. Pascale blew out the candle on the table and walked forward.
A gasp left her lips as she walked into the living room.
There you were, lips pressed against your dates cheek. But she knew your date, as did Charles.
"Oscar?"
#f1#formula one#formula 1#f1 imagine#formula one imagine#f1 x reader#formula one x reader#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#oscar piastri#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri fluff#oscar piastri x you#op81#op81 imagine#op81 x reader
393 notes
¡
View notes
Text
áŻâ
đđđŻđ˘đ¤đ đđđđđđđ§đ¨đ§đŹ
MDNI
SFW
- Lesbian (canon)
- Heavy metal is her favorite genre of music.
- Doesnât have a hand towel in her bathroom. She shakes her hands to dry them and wipes them on her pants.
- Keeps her nails short and hates keeping them painted. She sees it as a waste of time since it chips so frequently.
- Has horrible long term memory but can remember the most random, specific memories or facts.
- Got hit by a motorcycle once and got into a fight with the driver.
- Would have had an emo phase when she was younger without knowing what being emo meant.
- Secretly not so secretly the biggest hater. Does gossip just in her own way of posing things as a fact.
- Hated any type of schooling with a burning passion. Did not do well with the structure it demanded and most likely did not do any schooling after the required amount.
- Snores so loud like a dad and will wake herself up with her own snoring at times.
- Ungodly high tolerance for alcoholâŚwe all see how frequently she drinks.
- Also has an amazing spice tolerance and can eat basically anything. Human vaccum!
- Loves reptiles
- Hates clowns
- Tries to shower often and hates when sheâs working for long days without being able to go home to clean.
- She has never done taxes
- When Sevika was younger if she caused something to go wrong she would flee the scene and let someone else take the blame. She isnât above doing it now.
- Likes being alone. Give her a cigar and some whiskey and sheâs set to be alone for the rest of her life. Sheâs had enough human interaction for one lifetime.
- Honestly bad at handling criticism and tries to rationalize everything she does in her head.
- Gets offended when people incorrectly assume things about her.
- She is completely oblivious to anyone liking her romantically or showing interest in her. She isnât very conscious of being romantic so it goes over her head if she isnât actively deciphering if someone is flirting.
SFW (serious)
- Hates hugs but will reluctantly give side hugs to someone very close to her.
- Sevika finds herself blaming Silco some nights and other nights she wants him to come back so she doesnât have to deal with the chaos Zaun has fallen into.
- She has a love-hate relationship with her parents and ultimately wishes her childhood was better.
- Raised stray dogs on the streets as a kid because she thought of them like her.
- Has insane troubles trying to fall sleep.
- When she does eventually get to sleep she keeps a knife under her pillow. Do not wake her up unless you want to get hurt đ
- Doesnât verbally say i love you much. She prefers relationships where you both silently know how much you love each other.
- She can like physical touch at times and seek it out, but she doesnât like it all the time. Sevika can love deeply, but she doesnât do well with clingy people.
- She gets overwhelmed pretty easily. Though she doesnât show it much on her face, itâs easy for her to feel suffocated by lots of things happening.
- She has to get used to cuddling and only cuddles with people she highly trusts where she doesnât feel as if she is physically trapped.
- Would not be into toxic relationships. She hates situationships where she isnât secure and/or doesnât exactly know what she is with someone. Sevika needs something stable or she will not open up.
- Views her childhood self as a completely different person than herself. She mourns the kid who lost their happiness.
- Doesnât fall in love easily because of the walls she has built up for years.
- Hates receiving help. Hates asking for it even more.
- Was called scrappy when younger and grew up to become âa scary ladyâ. When sheâs able to settle down more she realizes how much she hates being stereotyped as this always angry and violent person.
- After becoming a councilor and being alone again years of pain came back. It took her a long time to work through all of it. She could be doing the most random thing and would burst into tears.
- When she hangs out around people she prefers to be in silence.
- Is hard of hearing after the amount of head trauma she has had. By the time she was in her late 50âs she lost complete hearing in one of her ears.
NSFW
- Likes using her strap but prefers feeling you on her skin.
- Loves scissoring, but only does it on special occasions because hit makes her hips ache.
- Likes being bit (are we surprised?)
- Manhandler.
- Loves seeing you drip over her fingers, stretching you out is her favorite part because she always takes her time.
- Is a masochist, not so much a sadist. She sees enough people getting hurt every day by late season two she wouldnât inflict pain on you in bed.
- Bush!!!! Loves bush, has a bush, wants a jungle.
- Prefers you dressed down. Never complains when you dress up but seeing you in every day clothes, her clothes, or pajamas is her favorite thing.
- It turns her on when you are at equal positions in your relationship instead of one being over the other, but doesnât mind your subbing or domming more. switch sevika is real.
- PRAISES! Comes up compliments in bed that you didnât even know she appreciated.
- Loves you dominating her. Giving up all the power she has to constantly hold it turns her brain to mush.
- Every time she is buried between your thighs she will massage them as she gives you head.
- Wears boy shorts underwear and briefs. Keeps them low cut to show her happy trail.
#sevika#sevika headcanon#sevika headcanons#sevika arcane#sevika x reader#sevika x y/n#sevika x you#sevika arcane x reader#sevika imagine#arcane headcanon#arcane headcanons#arcane sevika#lesbian#headcanons
280 notes
¡
View notes
Text
i once had to break up with someone while we were still in love. i was going through a rough patch and they needed more than i had to give. right person, wrong time
they tried to get back together with me on 3 separate occasions in the following month
the first time they sent me this long text about how
âwe could work together so that itâs different this time. you didnât let me help you with your issues and i never communicated mine. i just canât shake the feeling that we made a mistakeâ
i missed them dearly and i almost went backâŚbut they hadnât changed and neither had i. as much as i wanted to pretend we could work on it, i knew that it would just be a matter of time before we broke up again. breaking their heart once almost killed me and i simply couldnât risk doing it again. so i wrote a heartfelt paragraph to say
âi wish you the best and i want to make you happy, but itâs only been a week and nothings changed. im sorry but noâ
it hurt, but it was necessary. i hope they understood where i was coming from. then a few days later, they texted me again and said
âwe had something specialâ (and we did) âi take all the blame. you were always enough, all i need is youâ
again, i thought about it for a momentâŚbut the truth is that if they didnât have needs then we wouldnât have broken up. i knew i was just as much to blame as them. they just wanted the grief to go away and would say anything to make it happen. if we got back together, id let them down again so i wrote a few short sweet sentences telling them that
âyou have a lot to offer and youâll find someone else. ill always be rooting for you. im sorry, but noâ
the third time they insisted on calling. i told them I wouldnât change my mind, but they insisted things would be better if we could talk over the phone. for 45 minutes, they repeated everything they ever said. trying to find anything that would change my mind.
âive never felt like this beforeâ
i tried to be gentle with them but there are only so many ways you can say
âim sorry but noâ
eventually they ran out of words. they apologized and said theyâd leave me alone, but ill never forget what they said before we hung up
âi wish i couldâve written this off like you didâ
they thought that I had just moved on and what we had meant nothing to me i didnât know how to explain that every time i said
âim sorry, but noâ
what i really meant was
âi love you enough to let you goâ
#my writing#writeblr#writers and poets#writing#writers on tumblr#poetry#autism#love#mental health#quotes
4K notes
¡
View notes
Text
The Cooldown.
One shot.
Pairing: Boyfriend! Joel Miller x Mid/Plus size Afab!Reader
Pictures used are just for reference purposes, you are the lucky gal in this fic
Summary: Your boyfriend can't resist offering you a little post workout fun. Completely inspired by those pictures of Pedro from yesterday.
This one goes out to all my thigh riding girlie's (gn) <3
Warnings: 18+ MDNI! Established relationship, AU no outbreak, Mentions of being body conscious in the past, vague descriptions of being fuller figured nothing specific though, sweaty post gym thigh riding, Praise, dirty talk. Undefined legal age gap. Spanking.
Not beta'd and probably not proofread very well, putting the disorder in adhd, as ever. âď¸
Word Count: 1.1k
Masterlist
âCâmere babyâ Joelâs patting his thick thigh with a lecherous grin on his face as heâs watching you peel off your gym wear, the damp nylon is sticking to every inch of you.
You respond with a soft snort âWhat do you mean come here? Joel, I feel gross. That work out nearly killed me today.â It had been his idea to start going to the gym together, another âcouples bondingâ experience heâd said. He was big into that kind of thing, but honestly you were pretty sure it was so he could watch your tits and ass jiggle, he thought he was slick.
âDo I look like I care darlinâ? Get that beautiful ass over here and ride my thigh, câmon...â Itâs a command and an invitation all in one, your boyfriend of two years knew what he wanted, heâs never sugar-coated it and that horny, feral part of your brain loved that about him.
So, you shuck off your sports bra over your head, tossing it into the hamper. You can feel the sweat that had collected beneath the material was now running down your sternum, trickling to your belly button. Youâd already be in the shower if you were alone, but these days doing anything alone is a huge feat in itself where Joel is concerned. On the days heâs not working, or when Sarah is at school, heâs with you, making the most of your time together. Usually naked.
You watch as his once brown eyes go almost completely black with desire, pupils blown wide, the bulge in his sinfully short shorts is impossible to ignore. Youâd tease him a little more if you werenât so fucking turned on. Maybe a joint session at the gym had been for both his benefit and yours. Heâd been eyeing you in your figure hugging leggings and tight little sports bra while youâd been ogling his thighs and ass the whole time.
You should have known that once you made it back to your place, youâd both be spending the rest of the day engaging in a more horizontal form of exercise.
So you tug off your leggings, shimmying out of them as you take your panties off with them, his eyes never leave you for a moment, his gaze is both predatory and appreciative. Youâre his. Every day he thanks his lucky stars for that.
You put on a little show for him as you strut towards the bed where he sits, his thighs parted wide, leaning back on his palms. Your hips shake hypnotically with every step. Before Joel, you hadnât loved your body that much, but now with the way he worships every dip and curve, whether it be with his eyes, lips, tongue or fingers, now you love your fuller frame. Gone are the days where youâd be covering up in t-shirts that swamped you at the gym, you were beautiful and you didnât feel the need to hide any more.
You lower yourself onto his thick thigh, more defined these days, heâd said a while ago that he wanted to stay in shape now he was getting âolderâ, if not for his sake then for the sake of his babygirl and you were more than happy to support him, they way he supported you in everything you wanted to achieve.
âThatâs itâ He coos, leaning back just pinning you with a stare that has you melting already âFuck darlinâ look at you, pretty as a picture. Yâlook good just like this...â
You preen under his praise, a little giggle leaving you as you plant your hands on his broad shoulders and start to glide along his thigh, the ridges and hairs tickle your clit just right. âMaybe we just skip the gym next time... Stay home and fuck all day instead?â That earns you a sharp spank, making you gasp, soothed by his thick fingers pawing at the fleshy part of your cheek. Itâs a sweet sting thatâs left there, one you know has probably left a red mark, one that has your cunt clenching around nothing nonetheless, dribbling onto his naked thigh.
âI could spend all day in this pretty little pussy, yâknow thatâ His hands come up to your hips, kneading the soft flesh under his fingertips âBut thereâs just something about you... All hot and sweaty out in public that makes my motor run baby... maybe next time yâlet me fuck you in the locker room huh? Stay nice anâ quiet for me while I bend you over one of those benches? That sound good sugar?â heâs guiding you now, pressing you down harder against his thigh, urging you to roll those gorgeous hips of yours.
With a breathy moan you nod and he spanks you again, the slap echoing throughout the bedroom.
âUse your words sweetness, need tâhear you say it.â
You feel your release quickly creeping up on you, his thigh is getting slicker by the second. You grind yourself deeper agaisnt his thigh with his guidance giving your swollen little clit all the attention she so desperately needs. âYes! Fuck baby- P-please next time... N-next time fuck me just like that...â
He can feel you tensing up on top of him, he can hear the little hitches in your breath all the subtle cues that tell him youâre about to make a mess on his thigh.
âThatâs it darlinâ just like that, keep goinâ.. Fuck... After this weâre gonna go take a shower together and Iâm gonna bury my cock so deep inside you, that you wonât know where you end and I begin... Gonna make this tight little pussy sing for meâ His jaw is set and tense as he grits his teeth, urging you to move faster, you look between the two of you seeing his cock straining painfully against the stretchy fabric of his shorts, begging to come out and play.
You throw your head back, nails digging into his taut flesh as your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave of pleasure. The deep, filthy groan that leaves him as he watches you fall apart is one that will be engrained in your memory for years to come.
His thigh is soaked, he can feel it running down his knee and he fucking loves it. Your cries of ecstasy are just dying down when he releases his grip on your hips and helps you up onto your feet, holding you upright since youâre knees are buckling like a deer taking their first steps.
Heâs guiding you towards the ensuite when he ducks his head down to drawl in your ear âCâmon baby, letâs get you all cleaned up so I can make you dirty againâ. Â
Tags: @almostempty @itwasntimethatdidit40 @joelmillerisapunk @baronessvonglitter @syd-djarin @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @guiltyasdave
#pedro pascal#joel miller#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfiction#the last of us au#joel miller x you#joel miller smut#the last of us#joel miller x afab!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x f!reader#thigh riding#joel miller x plus size reader#Boyfriend Joel Miller#smut no plot#plot what plot#get it girl#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal fanfiction#ppcu fandom#ppcu fanfiction#ppcu fics#ppcu#pedro pascal character#pedrohub
360 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Out of reach
Pairing: earlyseasons!Spencer Reid x hotchner!fem!reader Summary: You pull away from Spencer because of your jealousy. You go back to him after a few drinks in. WC: 9k A/N: fluff! pining! idiots/friends to lovers! alcohol consumption; spencer is a bit mean; reader doesn't communicate; hotch is a little older to have a daughter around spencer's age (do not come at me this is fiction). If I missed anything, please let me know! I had so much fun writing this one and it's now one of my favorites <3 masterlist
The jet was quiet as you and the BAU team made your way back from Los Angeles after successfully finding Lila Archer's stalker. The case had been a bit draining, after all, you've only been working with the FBI for a couple of months, and seeing dead bodies and all those other displays of violence was something you were still trying to get used to. Despite your sensitive nature, being Aaron Hotchner's daughter meant that you had mastered the art of a poker face through the years, not that it meant that your inner feelings were any less important. This is how you found yourself sitting all alone in a corner of the jet as everyone minded their own business. On any other day, you'd be sitting next to Dr. Spencer Reid, talking about whatever it was that could get your mind off the case you had just wrapped up. Spencer and you were friends, some would even say the best of friends, but you didn't mind about naming things â what mattered the most is that you got to be yourself around him and you didn't bother hiding behind the Hotchner glare, as he once put it.
Despite being unknown territory for you, after all, feelings and all that were protected by a deeply analytic and practical mind, you knew what you were feeling. Well, you were analyzing your reactions to check what had actually happened â and the thing is, you couldn't admit, not even to yourself, what that sinking feeling in your chest when you watched Spencer saying goodbye to Lila was. Amid your analysis, Spencer quietly approached you, silently motioning to the seat next to you. You nodded, shutting every single thought of him. Or at least, trying.
"Hi."
Hotch glare. "Hi, Reid."
Spencer felt nervous. He had never been on the receiving end of your⌠wrath before, so it was unknown territory and he didn't know how to act. His racing heart and clammy palms weren't helping him, either. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Listen, um, you... can... can we talk?" The stammering. Way to go, Spencer.
Glancing at him, ignoring the skip in your heartbeat, you nodded. "Yeah. Is everything alright?" A firm, secure tone. You mentally patted yourself on the back.
"You're a little distant... andâand I got a bit worried. Did... Did something happen?" He wanted to kick himself. What kind of person can't hold a serious conversation without stuttering like an idiot? Get a grip, Reid.
"No, Reid. Everything is alright. I'm just... thinking." You said.
Bullshit. You both knew that. Spencer, on the other hand, didn't know why it was bullshit. But he knew it was.
"Are you sure?" He asked, leaning towards you, almost invading your personal space and he shut his eyes before delivering the next question, "Is... I haven't done anything to upset you? Right?"
You took a second to answer him, willing your voice to stay still and the knot in your throat to go away. "No. It's nothing you've done. It's just... it's on me." You gave him a small smile that didnât quite reach your eyes â that's when he knew something was definitely wrong.
He nodded, but he was still worried by your sudden change of behavior, especially towards him. It was like he was anyone else, again. And, God, he didn't want that. "What is it, then? You can talk to me, you know. We're best friends."
Best friends.
The words felt bitter on his tongue. The sound of them broke your heart all over again.
Best friends. "Right. Yeah. I know." You said, quietly, and it felt a little lifeless to him. He clenched his hand, fighting the urge to touch you, to ask you what was truly bothering you. "Thanks for offering."
Spencer felt conflicted. If he didn't say anything and didn't push you to speak, you would probably bury whatever it was that you were feeling and it would lead him into being even more worried about you. If he did, you would probably snap at him because of his undesired, bothersome insistence. "It's nothing." He said, defeatedly. "Can you just... Do you promise it's not me?"
Your heart ached and you smiled at him, a tiny, faint, barely there smile. He was so adorable, sometimes. "I'm just upset over something else. Donât worry. You didn't do anything wrong." You finished, trying to convince yourself that he had not, indeed, done something wrong.
And he didn't. He didn't. You and Spencer, despite your proximity and sometimes incredibly ambiguous relationship, hadn't said anything about deeper feelings towards one another. You let yourself admire him, lovingly, from afar, and were happy with the snippets of attention you had from him when you two had some free time. You two were regulars in the coffee shop near his apartment and, by now, the local librarian, Mrs. Jones, could probably fake your signature from how often you two went there to borrow books. She would watch you two behind the bookshelves, whispering excitedly and curiously to each other about whatever suggestions you were getting from each other. As you missed Spencer's longing glances to read a summary, Mrs. Jones smiled to herself, both at how adorable you two were and how oblivious you were. In museums, you would sit down after some time walking around to his explanations of art and historical movements that impacted the expression of a certain age â you pretended to not know a few things, just so he could speak his heart away and not be interrupted by your own contributions.
You kept silent to make him happy.
Which was exactly what was happening now.
Spencer knew, for sure, that you were hiding something from him. But he also knew that he had no right to force it out. He fidgeted awkwardly, not knowing what to do with his hands, his heart still clenching. âBut, but... youâd come to me if you needed help, right?â
You nodded, unable to speak. You knew you were wrong, omitting things from him. Just as the guilt was starting to weigh in your heart, Derek passed by you two with a magazine in his hands, throwing it at Spencer, exclaiming, "My man!"
You looked down, already knowing what it was. Spencer was a mess beside you: blushing, stuttering, avoiding your and Derek's gaze and throwing the magazine as far as he could, like it had burned him. Your reaction was a subtle twitch of your lips, not in amusement, but in need to disguise the pang in your heart. You both spent the rest of the flight sitting in silence, simply being in each other's orbit. You, guiltily. Spencer, worriedly.
Your reaction â or lack of â was staggering to Spencer. He thought you two were getting somewhere, despite your closed off nature and demeanor, he thought he was finally cracking you up. Everyday was torture, seeing you walk through the bullpen's glass doors with your professional clothes and your composed figure. It was torture to see you walk around so prettily and serious, holding his bare heart in your hands, and not even realizing it. By now, he lived and thrived on those rare opportunities you had to spend time together as he became more and more covered in you.
As the jet landed and Spencer walked out to talk to Derek, you pettily made sure to step on Lila Archer's face when leaving the jet in sheer frustration.
Back to the bullpen, you had gone to the restroom to splash some water on your face in order to calm your nerves and to tell yourself that it was only a matter of time until things got back to normal â until you got back to normal. Glancing at your reflection in the mirror, you wondered if Spencer could tell that there was something wrong with you, if you had let any of your feelings slip during your short conversation. The version of you that stared back was as impassible as you ever were. As you made your way to your desk in the dimly lit sea of desks, you caught Spencer and Derek talking, both having their backs to you.
Sighing, you just left the headquarters, not wanting to know what they were discussing, or rather, knowing what they were discussing, but unwilling to stay, even if it would quench your curiosity as to what Spencer had been thinking.
Maybe you didn't want to know the answer.
â
The days went by, cases coming left and right, flights making you almost dizzy â not that you would admit, but you were terrified of heights. Between those and your training, you barely had time to think about Spencer and the entire Lila occasion. You spent your days busy with work, studies and physical training in order to keep your mind away from that, but as you lay awake at night, the memories would come back to haunt you relentlessly to the point you had recurring dreams of them. Together, as you watched from the sidelines. You kept to yourself, slipping further and further away from Spencer.
Reid, on the other hand, felt your absence more than anyone. You took a rain check on all the invitations he made, even when he invited you to movie night, when he would definitely choose a Russian movie because you mentioned once how you liked how the language sounds. There wasn't any more donuts on his desk as he arrived in the morning (he would always joke that you and your father secretly lived in the headquarters and that someday he would see Haley bringing your groceries to the secret house), and there was no one for him to throw his paper airplanes, small flashcards with the Russian phonological alphabet, at. The change in your behavior was absurdly clear to everyone: you barely called or texted him anymore, you didn't look his way when someone told a joke to check if he thought it was funny... He was sulking, to say the least. Upon questioning you, you blamed your lack of free time and as he was going to question you further, you said in a teasing tone that not everyone was like him and that the FBI was actually making you go through all the training phases.
Finally, during the end of a particularly frustrating workday, he finally snapped, grabbing your arm before you could enter the elevator. It was only you and him in the otherwise empty hallway. "Ok. What's been going on? And don't," he said, closing his eyes, "don't dance around the subject. Don't say it's the Academy. Don't say you have to work. Don't. Please, be honest with me."
The exasperation in his eyes and in his tone almost broke the wall that hid your true feelings, but as you glanced at him, you figured you couldn't do it. Be honest? What for? To hear that you're nothing more than his best friend? Losing said friend was not an option, not to you, at least. But you also knew that you weren't treating him right, that keeping him out was not at all fair to him, that leaving him in the dark was as hurtful as it would be to lose him.
Breathing deeply, you answered with the same stoic expression you wore every single damn day. "I told you, Reid. People go through different, busier times in their lives." The lie tasted like acid.
Spencer clenched his teeth, frustration and confusion beginning to override some of his social anxieties. âThat! That!â He asked through clenched teeth, his gaze intense.
"That what?" You asked, puzzled.
"You... you stopped calling me 'Spence'ânot that you did it often, you did it more when we were all alone, and it... it sucks! It sucks because I don't know what happened or what I did that was so wrong to make you stop liking me!"
Come on, just say something! Get angry, get sad, get something!, his mind screamed.
"I never stopped liking you," you said, looking away from him. His words hit a particular spot that you were totally willing to discover later, but the mere thought that he knew that you liked him more than as a friend made you shiver.
"That's not the point! Orâor rather, it is! Because if you didn't stop liking me, why would you act like you did?" He asked, his tone rising a bit.
"Calm down."
"Calm down? I will not calm down!" He almost yelled. His eyes widened slightly, disbelief clear in his features and tone, not to mention the frustration. "Just. Please.â He said, closing his eyes, willing himself to tone it down, not that it worked... âTell me what you're thinking, what happened to you! For once! Any normal person would react and stop acting like an emotionless robot!"
You gaped like a fish out of water, taking a small step back, his words digging a hole in your heart. Upon hearing his own words and noticing you distancing yourself from him, all the anger vanished from his body. The widened eyes were a sign of realization of what he had said to you. During the early months of friendship, you had confided in him that you struggled with portraying emotion like others normally did. Maybe it had something to do with growing up with a father who did it so perfectly when he was out of the house. When he wasn't actively playing the âdadâ part, Aaron Hotchner would wear an unreadable mask like it was his armor, his defense from the outer world, but as soon as he got home, he was back to his main role. You would watch him with his coworkers and mimic him perfectly to make him laugh. At some point, making fun of and imitating his demeanor had become some serious form of self-defense for you. Spencer, then, joked that you were making your way to the perfect job, but then he had gotten serious and told you that it wasn't a flaw. That it wasn't a problem that you kept deeply to yourself sometimes â that it was okay to be yourself around him. You had felt safe by his side since then.
But now, what did those words mean? Were they lies?
He breathed out your name, softly, "I... I... I'm sorry."
"Just drop it," you replied, pushing the elevator button. Your dismissive tone and your action of leaving made Spencer feel utterly desolate, like he had done the wrongest thing in the world and perhaps he had, but he just wanted you to let him in. For once, he wanted to have the answers from your lips, not spend any more time analyzing your every single action and words...
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."
"You know, SpencerâŚ" he looked up at you when he heard his name, as you held out an arm to hold the elevator doors open. As if thinking better than to say anything, you sighed and turned to enter the elevator, shaking your head with the most disappointed look he had ever seen on your face.
Spencer tried looking at you one last time before the elevator doors closed, and despite your face being as unreadable as it often was, he saw a flicker of sadness that stung his heart more than he liked to admit. If he hadn't done anything wrong before, now he had utterly fucked everything up.
â
The drive home, for Spencer, was a torture. He knew that he had to pay attention to the road ahead of him, to the other vehicles and drivers, but his mind kept drifting to the last glimpse of you back in the headquarters. Your empty eyes appeared behind his eyelids every time he pressed his eyes closed. He willed himself not to cry, to not blur his vision, taking his frustration out on the steering wheel, where his grip was so tight that his knuckles turned white. As he parked his car and looked up to one of his windows, he remembered you. Because of course he would remember you.
The sight was almost comical, to be honest. You, clad in one of the suits that fitted you so well, sitting on his windowsill, a cup of green tea in hands as you stared out the window, trying to analyze every single drop of rain before it reached somewhere outside your vision range. The funny thing was that you had no shoes on, instead, Spencer lent you a mismatched pair, not being one used to having people over, he didn't have a pair of spare slippers. Then, you sat there with a dinosaur-pattern sock on one foot and a striped-pattern sock on the other.
Spencer, sitting on his sofa and holding his own cup (he had let you choose your mug and stayed quiet when you pointed quietly at his favorite), smiled to himself. It was weirdly calming seeing you out of your character, doing something so... human.
"I can feel you staring, you know," you said. And your tone was almost... teasing?
"Right. Sorry." He said, looking down at his steaming tea.
"I'm not scolding you," you said, turning to look at his direction with a grin.
"Right, noâheh..." he replied, bashfully, cheeks reddening at the sight of your smile.
If only you knew... how many hours he would lay awake at night, as thoughts swirled in his head, how everything seemed to shut down at the thought of you. How he would fall asleep to the wish of being on the receiving end of one of your rare smiles, how he appreciated that you were always the first one he talked to upon his arrival at the headquarters. How... how he would do anything for you to look at him under a different light.
Seemingly out of nowhere, you giggled. Everything stopped.
Spencer.exe has stopped working.
"HehehâI guess... It's not everyday you get to see a Hotchner so out of itsâhehehâhabitat." You quipped, looking at him with a smile on your face.
Suddenly, Spencer lost his voice. The connection between his brain and his tongue, which felt heavy, disappeared. Completely speechless, eyes slightly wide at the sound of your laughter. It made you laugh a bit more, but when his stare and open mouth got too much to handle, you looked down at your feet, wiggling your toes to distract yourself from the intensity of his gaze full of awe. Then, Spencer got back to his senses, smiling at you as you missed it to look away in embarrassment.
Spencer blinked away the tears and left his car, entering his apartment. As he took off his shoes, he let the tears fall at the sight of your windowsill.
â
Meanwhile, you were getting wasted at some bar. Not just any bar, but the one you usually went with Spencer when you were feeling daring and wanted a change from the places where you both used to go to. You were a bit of a lightweight, so a couple of drinks were enough for you to start playing trivia with Spencer and let your gaze linger for longer, basking in the sight of him so carefree, having fun with you.
Upon your arrival, the bartender that usually took care of your orders, MJ, greeted you with a smile. When she saw no one was joining you, she frowned. "Good evening, Hotch. Where's loverboy?"
You sent her a look, but since you were letting your guard down, after all, there were no acquaintances or friends around, you didn't know if the look came out as a glare or if you looked like a kicked puppy. She snorted. "Gee... That bad, huh?" She asked, and you didn't answer again, though you muttered a soft thanks, MJ when she gave you your go-to drink.
And it turned into two drinks. Three. Four...
(MJ was now giving you alcohol-free drinks, too worried for your well-being. You and Spencer started to grow on her as you two kept coming back.)
You rested your chin on your left hand while you traced patterns with your right index finger on the counter. MJ was eyeing you suspiciously, drying a few glasses with a washcloth. "He kissed another girl." You admitted, quietly.
"No way." She gasped.
"Way."
"But... I thought you two were a thing." MJ was baffled, placing down the objects she was holding in sheer shock. "I always thought you two were like... together for years."
"We were a thing.... I think, at least... I don't know, MJ." You sighed, tucking a stray of hair behind your ear. Looking up at her, hazy eyes taking in her focused expression, you sniffled, "we were on this case and then he met a girl and then the next moment the two of them were making out in a pool. In a freaking pool."
She tsked, anger flashing in her eyes, "I swear, those nerdy guys are the worst."
"Yeah..." You muttered, fiddling with your straw. "Can I have another one?"
She pursed her lips, but she relented. Then, as she handed you the liquid, a guy sat next to you. Did he look like Spencer or were you already hallucinating?
"Hi. I'm Dave. Can I buy you a drink...?" He asked with a small smile, wanting to know your name.
No, not Spencer. Itâs cool.
"Hi, I..."
MJ cut you off. "Hey, Dave, I think she had too much to drink already."
They exchanged looks and it took you a minute to feel offended by her interruption and knowing you were perfectly capable of speaking for yourself, but realizing you would probably have to entertain a stranger, you felt grateful for it.
Dave left with a sour smile. "Thanks." You muttered, again, looking at MJ.
"Do you need me to get you a cab, honey?"
"That would be great." You said, placing money bills to pay for your drinks and the tip.
MJ looked around to spot someone to keep an eye on the bar as she led you out of the place, hand never leaving your shoulder. As she called a cab, she made you stand on only one leg to make sure you weren't gonna need her to go with you. You scoffed, but obeyed her all the same, with a low snicker. As you two waited for the cab driver, a woman who MJ trusted with her life (and her favorite regulars), you tried to make conversation to make up for embarrassing yourself by talking about Spencer with someone. How pathetic.
"So, what does MJ stand for?"
She chuckled, shaking her head at you and at your dazed eyes. "That's classified information."
"I'm familiar with that."
The cab driver, Paula, arrived. She greeted the both of you with a smile and a cheerful good evening! As you entered the vehicle, you rolled the windows down and pressed the subject further, "Seriously, is it Mary Jane or were your parents more creative?"
She rolled your eyes at you, shaking her head. "It's Mary Jane. MJ because who would take me seriously?"
You smiled. "I like the shoes!"
Paula started driving slowly, just to let other drivers drop their own passengers, as you were lost in your own little world, serious expression taking over your face again, not wavering, as you delved deeper into the whirlwind of thoughts plaguing your head. Paula, looking at you through the rear-view mirror, asked, "Is everything okay, honey?"
You buckled your seatbelt. "Yes, yes. Just... keep driving slowly, please."
"Where to?"
Only then you realized you never gave her an address. Closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, you gave her Spencer's, telling her you were going home.
â
An unknown number had sent Spencer a couple of messages.
[8:32 p.m.] Lovergirl is here, drinking all by herself.
[8:32 p.m.] Water, but still. I'm not having her passed out without you here.
[8:40 p.m.] Sent her home, people were starting to approach.
Throughout the time he had spent with you at the bar, the two of you exchanged numbers with MJ in case she needed your help â you know, being FBI agents and whatnot. But Spencer didn't need to see her name to know it was her and she was talking about you; 'lovergirl' and 'passed out without you here' gave him clue enough. His stomach tied in knots when he read that people were starting to approach her, the nagging feeling that the image conjured in his mind was making him feel almost sick, then, it hit him like a truck: Lila Archer.
Their⌠case? was as fleeting as a careless glance. To be honest, Spencer accepted her advances to spite you for having such power over him, even if unknowingly so. The young agent felt like you were so out of his league, so out of reach â you were all that pile of confidence and stoicism and pure lusciousness and everything to him. And he was a young guy who truly had barely been kissed so far. How could he approach you, charm his way into your heart, especially when you barely bared it? With Lila, it was... nice. Easy, even. It was nice being wanted, to be able to read her intentions and desires like a children's book. With you, it was a tantalizing challenge, one he was, for the first time, struggling with. It was not like having a high-school crush, not like pining over the untouchable girls that would catch his interest as he grew older. No. This was something new. You had hit him deeper than ever or anyone before.
Plus, as much as he hated to admit it, he gave room to the anxious thoughts regarding your father as well. Would it affect his relationship with his superior? Would it affect your relationship with your father? Spencer felt dizzy just by the mere thought of ruining something uniquely yours. No, he couldn't impose himself on your life like that. It was mean, it was wrong, it was immoral.
To want, to desire, is to be selfish.
It was a bold assumption. To think you were jealous of him. Nevertheless, the signs were all there, had been all along. He was just dumb and scared enough of making assumptions.
A barely there, faint sound of a knock on his door made Spencer fly out of his bed, dropping his phone on the bedroom floor, but he didn't pick it up. He had a suspicion as to who could be knocking on his door, but he was too scared of assuming anything. Again. Opening the door, he saw you, breathing a bit heavily. The stairs, he supposed. You always complained about them. Once you exchanged looks, Spencerâs surprised one and your earnest one, you asked, "Do you really think I'm a robot?"
Shit. He could feel his heart breaking in a million little pieces. The insecure edge of your voice and words made him squeeze his eyes shut; in his mind, he was kicking himself simultaneously as he sank down to his knees, on your feet, begging you to forgive and forget his dumb, stupid, frustrated, unrealistic words.
"No," he breathed out, wincing, almost as if he was in physical pain. "IâI didn't mean to talk about you like that. I was..."
"Frustrated?"
He nodded, silently, eyes never leaving your face. Your speech, albeit way out of the ordinary that he was used to, was flawless. If not by the dilated pupils and the faint smell of alcohol, not to mention MJ's texts, he would dare to say you were perfectly sober. "I was, too." You admitted, looking down.
Spencer made way for you to enter his apartment. He watched as you kicked your shoes off. The sight, that had become as common as the act of breathing, made his way flutter. You intended on staying. Or so he hoped. You walked further into the place, noticing everything as it ever was, as if you hadn't been to his apartment for some time now. "You must be thinking why I'm here," you said, moving to sit on the couch and mentioning him to sit on the small coffee table in front of you, as if you owned the place, and not him.
Perhaps it was true.
He closed the door once you were inside, hesitating for a moment before joining you. He kept noticing things about you; the way you were walking, the way you could barely look him in the eye, the way you looked⌠âHow much did you have to drink?â He asked, quietly.
"Not much. You know I don't usually drink because I canât hold my drinks. And I'm sure MJ was giving me plain water at some point." You said, looking up at him. Well, at least, your speech flawlessly delivered, even though you were moving a bit more⌠disoriented than usual. She's totally a Hotchner.
"I... I am," he started, sitting in front of you carefully. "I... I'm sorry. It's just... You've never been so distant. I guess that I was mean to you to elicit some reaction."
Your analytical gaze softened upon his confession. You needed to give him some break, be a little easy on him. Well, easier than you were being as of lately. Nodding lightly, you added, "I'm here to apologize, too. I know... I know that I pushed you away and I made you think that... that that was your fault. It's not."
He froze. No, he wouldn't have you taking the blame for how his actions caused you to react. He looked up at you, reaching out a hand to touch your intertwined ones, "It is."
"Hear me out. Please." You said, lowly, not breaking eye contact. This was so hard, and you had never felt so afraid before. How ironic â to be afraid of being brave. "I... I guess that by now you know why I pulled away."
"I do," he admitted, nervously. "It took me some time, but I... I think I figured you out."
You looked down, embarrassed. It was overwhelming for him to see you portray such different and so many emotions all at once. To you, it was as agonizing as it was freeing. "Well, yes. So... It, um, it wasn't fair. We... we are not something. We are not a thing."
His heart, doing all the thinking and feeling, nearly stopped. As if it wasn't enough, you kept on going, "I'm sorry, I truly am, for how I behaved and how I made you feel by being absent. It's... it's not my place. You have your own life, Reid. I can't be upset with you for making decisions. You're a grown man..." you sighed, glancing at every direction but at him. "I know that I'm wrong, okay? And I know that I shouldn't have pushed you away, nor should I have kept my feelings from you."
Spencer drew in a long breath. He didn't know what to say, but you couldn't be more wrong. All at once, he wanted to scream, but he didn't know what ro say; he wanted to run, but he didn't want to leave you alone â not for a second. He didn't ever want you out of his sight; he didn't want to be the one you were apologizing to, hell, he wanted everything to be okay between them, but it was nice that she was talking to him, finally.
"I..."
Every time he thought he could say something, words failed him. Then, you took it as another opportunity to word-vomit everything you've been feeling. "I was... I was jealous. I didn't like to see that. I didn't like that it happened. But I also know that I have no right to be upset with you because you're single and she's attractive and you're both consenting and willing to do whatever you please, so..." You shrugged as if speaking those words aloud didn't stab new holes in your heart.
Spencer looked at you, totally speechless. It made you snicker. And speak further. Shut up, you idiot. Please, please, please! "And, ahâhahahahâI guess I am, indeed, a bit of a robot because it took me a bit of alcohol to pluck up the courage to come here and totallyâhicâdestroy our friendship by telling you I love you so much; that I'd hate to see you with anyone other than me. It happened and I hated it. It still stings."
Spencer's heart threatened to fail once again. Your giggles, your words, your confession... His mind completely short-circuited. She loved him. She loved him? She loved him?!?!???!!! Thatâs what sheâd just said, apparently. Okay, calm down. And sheâd been jealous. She didnât like him kissing another woman, because she fucking loved him. Say something, you dumb idiot, his brain shrieked. Say something!
You parted your lips to say something else, but apparently decided against it. Another beat of silence of Spencer staring dumbly at you. "I'm going," you blurted out, standing up.
Spencer, at breakneck speed, stood up as well to stop you from walking away, placing his hands tentatively on your shoulders. Your bodies were now apart by mere inches. "No." His voice was so small and pained that you sat back down.
Despite your apparent willingness, your next words told him about your turmoil. "Why would I stay, Spencer? I've been pouring my heart out to you and you haven't said a thing."
Looking at you, so bare and so vulnerable, Spencer suddenly had flashbacks from when he had lashed out on you earlier and simultaneously fought the feelings that were bubbling inside of him upon your confession. Couldn't you see the sheer shock on his face? Couldn't you see that he was battling against every single bit of self restraint not to pull you into his embrace and make you believe him when he would tell you that you were the only woman for him?
Sure, he had dreamed of you saying those words to him countless times as time went by and you two got closer. Shit, he literally dreamed of it. Of you. Speaking sweet nothings to him... He broke out of his daze, realizing that he was deadly silent, "Don't go..."
"Then say something. I'm here. Not as Hotch's daughter, not as your coworker, not as a part of the team you work with. I'm here as the woman in whose heart you've grown over the last few months. I'm terrified of your answer and you keep depriving me of it." There was a hint of annoyance and hurry on your voice, and he could understand you, he truly could. He just didn't... he lost his voice when he looked at you.
Saying your name softly, he beginned, âI said stupid, untrue things, and Iâm sorry. Iâm a jerk, and I know that Iâm a jerk andâ" You quirked your eyebrow and he took a deep breath, trying to cut his rant. "Just... don't sit there and think that I have nothing to say."
"Have you said it?" You pressed it, quirking an eyebrow.
"No." He admitted, widening his eyes a bit as he realized his mistake.
At the same time, you shot, "Not saying something is also an answer for meâ"
"âbut not for the reasons you're thinking! Do you know how hard it is for me right now?" Spencer was starting to sound very desperate and pathetic, not to mention the fact that he wasn't answering your questions.
Deep breaths (from both ends).
"Look, Reid..." He glared at you upon hearing his last name. "I think I should go home. You and I clearly need some spaceâ"
"What we need to do is talk."
You sighed. "Then why won't you give me an answer?"
Silence.
"You won't even remember this in the morning."
At that, you deemed yourself utterly defeated. This was useless. "I'm sorry I came over. I'm... I'll just go, okay? Please, don't be upset about tonight. I apologize in advance."
The sight of her, once more shying away from him and turning to escape from him, was making Spencer frustrated, with himself, to no end. His heart clenched at your apology, to which he shook his head vehemently. The thing is, he wanted to get ready to answer you, properly, just like he always had some trick up his sleeve or some funny or curious fact to blurt during the most random moments. Spencer was good at speaking, but only when the speech was already ingrained into his mind, something he had read or rehearsed before. Plus, he was sure your state of drunkenness would stop you from remembering that moment.
Spencer dashed to his door, barely stopping you. No, no, no, no, no... She can't leave. This might be my only chance. "You're not going anywhere."
"Excuse me?"
"Stay with me. I don't want you to go." He said, softly, slowly, looking straight into your eyes. It made you dizzy. Either that or the alcohol.
"No?"
"Y-you're drunk and I... I don't think it's safe for you to go by yourself and it's late and... and..." he trailed off, nervously, desperate to get you to stay.
"I'm not drunk."
"You're not fooling me. You might be as concise as ever but you're not sober. Stay."
"Promise... promise you won't be upset with me?"
His heart dropped, heavy with guilt. And with love for you. "I promise."
Spencer silently led you back to the couch, gingerly holding your hand. He felt dazzled, speechless, desperate, frustrated, all at once. But your touch was starting to ground him back to reality, where you were real, having confessed your feelings for him, and he was a mess, not even being able to say anything back. Without much thinking, he said, "You should stay over tonight."
"Okay... I'll take the couch."
"As if I'd let you sleep on the couch."
"It's okay."
"Stop... stop acting like I sent you away."
You kept silent. You felt like he did. Through his touch, he hoped to get you to understand that his feelings were a mess, but they existed, and they were real, and they were yours. "That'd be alright with me, you know. Taking your couch. I think I would sleep better on your floor than I would ever in my bed. To... to say that anything is better if you're somehow involved."
His stomach made a flip-flop. Brain short-circuited again. You yawned, as if you had just made an annoying comment on the weather.
"Are you tired?" He managed to mutter.
"I am."
"Come on. Let's get you to bed."
"No."
"What do you mean 'no'? I'm not letting you on the couch. Come on."
"I can't go to your bed with outside clothes." You booped his nose.
He chuckled lowly, confused a little by your words. "Are you seriously worried about clothes?"
"You don't like germs. That's why I removed my shoes."
Okay, he thought, if I manage to put her to sleep without having a heart attack, I definitely don't need a cardiologist's appointment because it would mean I'm that strong.
"Y-you... remembered?" Damn it, Reid. Stop stuttering.
You sighed, tiredly, and rested your head on his shoulder, looking down at his hand holding yours. "I remember everything about you."
"You do?"
"Yes. Fortunately or unfortunately."
Spencer was too stunned to speak. Too stunned, too dumb, too afraid. Damn it. Damn it. He couldn't stop cursing internally. He forced himself to pull you towards his bedroom and even though he still sensed some uncertainty, he kept going. Reaching for a pair of sweatpants and a big t-shirt, he gave those to you. "You can change into these," as he left the room to make you more comfortable.
"Wait!" You almost shrieked.
"What happened?" He prompted, worriedly, reaching a hand out to touch your arm.
"I don't want you to go."
He bit back a sigh. "I'll be just outside."
"Just... stay here?"
"I can'tâ" he interrupted himself, just turning around so his back was to you instead. At that, he looked up at his ceiling and prayed to any deity to let him survive that night.
He could hear the sounds of your movements. The zipper being undone, the soft ruffling of the fabric as you tugged your shirt up your head... He was imagining your exposed skin, every perfect inch, how would you look without all those clothes that suited you so nicely, how would it be to touch you, to run his fingertips all over your heated skin, how would it be to kiss every freckle on your body, toâ"Done."
Turning around, the sight was adorable, which made him somewhat guilty of his early impure thoughts. "I feel like Alice when she shrunk into a tiny human."
He couldn't fight the smile at your words. He led you to his bed, where you laid on your back on top of the covers, staring at the ceiling. Spencer left you briefly to get you a glass of water and some painkillers to leave by the bedside table. You thanked him with a silent glance. As he turned to leave, once again, you said in a small voice, almost phrasing it like a question, too afraid of the answer. "Stay."
"I'll take the couch."
"You asked me to stay, thrice, I guess⌠And I did. I asked you once and you did. I still have a few requests left. I'm keeping tabs."
He relented, laying next to you and placing a pillow between you two. You breathed out a chuckle and he shook his head, clearly knowing where your mind had gone to. He placed his hand on top of the pillow, offering his comfort, and then you tentatively placed yours on top of his. He grinned to himself.
It was hard for him to wrap his head around what had happened that night. He knew his words â or lack of â could be read the wrong way and you possibly did, but he also hoped that his actions were speaking louder. Just as he was getting lost in thought again, he heard your voice once more.
"Spence?"
That damned nickname.
"Thanks for, um, being so respectful. Not that I don't think you'd be. But, um, as you've said, I'm drunk. And I told you I love you. And you're simply holding my hand." He gulped. He was keeping count, too, of how many times you said you loved him. Twice, so far, but he wanted so much more, endlessly. He wanted to lose track. "I guess... that makes me love you even more," you finished, crushing his heart between your palms, voice thick with sleep.
When he finally turned his head to look at you, your eyes were closed and you looked peaceful, drifting off to sleep. Then, when he was sure you were actually asleep, he stood up from his bed, grabbing a pillow and a spare blanket to lay on the floor.
"I'll gladly sleep on my floor if it means I get to have you around, too..."
â
Spencer didn't get any sleep.
He tossed and turned on the floor all night long, both because his carpet was not the most comfortable spot to sleep on, but also and mostly because there was no way in hell his mind stopped working. All through the night, Spencer fought the urge to shake you awake to ask if this was real, if you really loved him, if the words that slipped through your lips were in fact your feelings towards him. Despite his curiosity and eagerness, he let you sleep, figuring that he had already put you through too much already. As you slept, a movie played on his mind: your moments together, your confession of love, and overthinking the words we are not something. We are not a thing. He feared that you would wake up and realize how badly he had screwed up and decide not to want him anymore. Yes, he was that anxious.
You, on the other hand, even though confused by his lack of answer to your heartâs words, felt lighter than ever by speaking out your truth (the booze did help you a lot, though). Being as analytical as you were had its perks. One of them is that you never let yourself suffer too much for too long, too attached to reality to care much about the rest. So what if he rejected you? Life goes on â and thatâs what you thought with every other loser that you caught yourself thinking too much of. Spencer, though⌠Who were you kidding? Spencer was Spencer. And that meant the world⌠It wasnât so bad, if he actually rejected you⌠youâd only have to face him every day, until the rest of your lives, doomed to work together, cursed to think and rethink all over again small, fleeting moments such as an exchange of longing glances.
(You felt strangely calm due to your touch with reality. Maybe, just maybe, you were hoping for the best based on his care with and for you. But boy, were you ready to give him a piece of your mind.)
As your eyes fluttered open, you stretched your limbs on an unfamiliar bed with too much space. Upon your confusion, the memories came back with full force. You jolted, sitting down, searching for him â and, to be honest, not wanting to find him. The house was deadly silent, so you tried to trick yourself that you were sure he wasn't there. You dashed to the bathroom, taking a quick shower to get rid of the shame and the faint reek of alcohol. As you moved around his stuff, you couldn't help but think that you were so familiar with his things that it was almost like you belonged there. Sigh. It turns out that hiding emotions is easier than feeling them, especially their extremes.
As soon as you finished putting on your own clothes, you stopped dead in your tracks as you heard footsteps outside the bedroom. You froze, not knowing what to say. Or do.
Spencer entered the room, holding a tray meticulously organized with some food on it. âMorning. I, um, made you breakfast.â Because of course he would make you fucking breakfast.Â
âMorning,â you replied awkwardly and hoarsely. Maybe you cried a little bit, who knows⌠âThanks, you didn't have to.â
âI did.â
You take your time to get a good look at him. He had bags under his eyes that appeared to be tired. The sight made your heart drop. âI'm sorryâŚâ
âDon't be.â
âBut I was wrong.â
âSo was I.â
âButââ
âLast night you said some things. Do you, uh, do you remember what you told me?â You nodded, unable to speak. âDo you remember what you told me?â He repeated, trying to get a verbal answer from you.
âYes, Spencer. I remember.â
âCan you listen to what I have to say now?â
You nodded, weakly.
âI didn't say anything because⌠because everything had gone in the most opposite direction they could've gone.â He said, approaching you calmly. âI was up the entire night, hoping to find the right words to tell you that would make you believe me after I⌠was stupid. I⌠First, I'm sorry I made you feel that way. I know you said that we're nothing, that we weren't something, that we didn't have anything⌠but⌠but you're everything to me.â At that, your eyes finally met his. The intensity of your gaze made him shudder, but he kept going. âAll the time we've spent together was nothing compared to what I want to have with you⌠and⌠and⌠God! Do you have any idea of the torture I was put through with you? Constantly thinking of what we could be, what we should be, too scared of your reaction or thatâthatâthat Hotch decided to chop off my neck because he found out that I was crushing on his only daughter!â
At the mention of your dad, you burst out laughing. Seriously? That was such a clichĂŠ! âHey! I'm serious!â
âI'm sorryâŚâ You bit your bottom lip, fighting the urge to laugh at him some more. He was adorable.
âAs I was saying,â he continued, trying to sound annoyed, but a hint of a smile threatened to break on his lips, and he didn't pull away when you approached him nor he did when you wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your chin on his chest, looking up at him, adoringly. He looked down, meeting your gaze, âI⌠I love you. I love you too. God, it just feels so good to say that!â
You giggled, again. God, he could never get used to that sound.
âAnd Iâm sorry for being so mean to you when I was frustrated. I should have been more patient and my unthoughtful words hurt you.â You kept silent, remembering his words. âIâIâll spend the rest of my life apologizing if youâll have me.â He added, intimidated by your gaze.
Silence. âWell, I accept your apologies. I was unfair to you as well. And you know where I stand when it comes to you. My feelings, I mean.â
âI do⌠ButâŚâ
âBut?â
âI'd like to hear you say it.â
âSay what?â
âThat you love me?â
âI don't know. Do I, really?â You joked.
He blushed furiously, ready to stutter himself out of that situation. âNo, I mean⌠youâyou said thatâthat you remembered what you said last night and⌠so⌠putting two and twoâŚâ
Another giggle interrupted him. You traced his jawline, leaning up to kiss his right cheek. âI really, really love you.â A kiss to his left cheek. He chuckled. âI love you.â A kiss on the tip of his nose, to which he snorted, totally lovestruck. âSo much.â A lingering, tender kiss to his forehead. He closed his eyes, already anticipating the next spot you would press your soft lips to.
As you made your way to finally kiss his lips, you decided to tease him and let him wait for a bit longer. Spencer groaned in protest and you chuckled a bit, finally deciding that it was enough. Pressing your lips to the corner of his mouth, making him sigh, you were thrilling on making him more and more eager. His grip on you tightened just slightly as he let out a shaky breath. You wanted to laugh, but instead, you poked fun at him. âNow you know what it's like to be teased.â
âI love you. Oh, Jesus⌠You're driving me insane. You're here⌠And you, you're youâŚâ
You grinned, looking up at him, finally, finally pressing your lips to his. As you let out a small sigh, his breath hitched, both of you utterly drowning in relief and satisfaction. You pulled back a bit, grinning, going back to kissing him. Spencer's hands found your jawline, sliding back to tangle in your hair as he sucked your bottom lip into his mouth. Parting your lips slightly, you granted him full access to kiss you properly, and he moaned at the taste of you, gripping your hair rougher than before. You groaned softly, and he proudly heard and swallowed all your small sounds.
The ring of a phone broke the urgent atmosphere that was building between you two. Spencer ignored it, letting it ring until you pulled away, gasping for air. As you did, the noise stopped and you met his lost eyes, totally dumbstruck, and you laughed because you probably looked the same way. He gave you a charming, lopsided grin, too stupid, too hypnotized to say anything.
The phone began ringing again. âSon of aâŚ!â he cursed, picking up the phone. âHi, this is Dr. Spencer Reid and unless this is an absolute emergency, I'm kinda busyââ
âReid.â Aaron Hotchner's firm voice hit Spencer like a bucket of cold water. Widening his eyes, he gulped.
âYes⌠sir?â You smiled at that. Of course you knew who he was talking to.
âWe have a new case.â Hotch announced.
âOh⌠okay⌠I, um, IâI'll be there in 20.â
Silence.
âIs everything okay, Reid?â Hotchner could read anyone, Spencer was now sure of that. Even through the goddamned phone.
âWhâyeah, yeah⌠Everything's⌠totally fâfine.â He cursed under his breath as you gripped his vest, trying not to laugh.
âDo you know where she is?â Hotch inquired after another moment of quietness.Â
âWho?â He squeaked. You chuckled silently.
âMy daughter.â Of course it was his daughter.
Playing dumb is not a good look on you, you mouthed.
âNâno⌠I haven't⌠heard from her.â
âSure.â Hotch said, skeptically. Spencer could feel the sweat on his forehead. After a moment, your father finished the call with an unreadable âWe need to talk.â
Once the phone call ended, you burst out laughing at Spencer's reaction. âNot funny.â He protested, a frown on his face and a soft smile betraying his faux frustration.
âCome on, it is funny.â
He glared at you. âWhat do you think he wants to talk about?â
âI don't know. Men talk. I wouldn't want to get involved.â You said, grinning, pulling him by his vest.
He squeezed his eyes shut, relishing in the feeling of having you so close. âDo you think he knows?â
âOf course he knows.â
âHow are you so collected?â
âBecause I'm not the one he's going to scare to death, apparently.â
âHe said âweâ need to talk. Emphasizing âweâ. If he knows youâre here, then it probablyââ you cut him off with a kiss.
âWell, then⌠Are you ready to face your biggest fear? The frightening Aaron Hotchner?â
Glancing at you adoringly, he chuckled. âIâd face him and whoever, whatever, a thousand times, if it meant that I could get you in the end.â
â
A couple days after the case, you and Spencer meet again, in your apartment. Sitting down on the couch, you ask him, amusedly, âDo you think he noticed?âÂ
âTotally. I could barely look him in the eye for the first moments,â He said with a fond smile, hiding from you the fact that he had awkwardly and bravely spoken to your dad about your relationship. You laughed, placing your legs on the top of his legs. âI guess we should thank Lila, after all.â He joked, and you laughed out loud.Â
Leaning him closer to him, grabbing his chin and looking deep into his eyes, you muttered, âDonât ever say her name again, Spence.â
Your wish was always his command. It would always be.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds fanfiction#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x you#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid x yn#spencer reid x hotchner!reader#spencer reid angst#spencer reid self insert
344 notes
¡
View notes
Text
You can always recognize an office worker in a customer bc these guys felt so put upon and affronted by being asked to stay home during all of that that they just fucking forgot how to act in public. They demand things and say things to my face that they never would have before. I've been directly called a bitch and physically threatened more times in the last 4 years than I was in the entire decade of working in service positions beforehand.
I used to like people, man. People would act like we were beneath them for being service workers sometimes but before all that I think a majority of people were polite enough. I just don't give a shit about the complaints of people who were not essential workers unless those complaints are that they want to go back to working remotely because covid isn't fucking over. There is no complaint they can possibly have that can compare to having to be face to face with 100s of people every day that made it abundantly clear that they were (and are) willing to sacrifice your life for their convenience.
im not saying office jobs arenât bad in some ways but its always very telling when people treat it like the WORST job at the bottom of the rungâŚbecause they have never had to face manual labor as a real option they would ever be forced to take.
#And I have one of those âgoodâ service industry jobs#Not retail or food service#I spent 6 months wading though an endless sea of assisting distraught people#with obituaries/death certificates/filing for unemployment while having to fend off idiots throwing shouting hissyfits#about how we weren't offering other services at the time or wasting a bunch of time with services that they#and I cannot stress this enough#could have done remotely#I caught covid twice. I'm lucky I'm not dead.#Some of my co-workers did die and I was expected to just like...be chill with the lingering specter of death I guess.#We had to fight to get the company to implement the plexiglass temporary screens or provide any masks.#Customers would sit there and profess that we were such heroes but they couldn't even handle standing six feet away.#If you asked someone to please comply with literally any safety standard they were ignoring#you were taking your life into your hands bc âwhat if they attack me for that?â was a real possible thing you had to consider.#I'm not a hero to them because they did not care!!!#The company said it first but the general public also made it abundantly clear!!#They did not give a single fuck if EVERYONE who worked there died!#They made small talk about it!#The Economy#You have to pretend to agree with them bc you can't have personalities or opinions on the work floor#Why yes sir I do think it's great that you can still come in here for virtually no reason#And give me a highly infectious deadly disease#Bc you're bored#I sure am happy to stick it to the libtards#By dying#And don't even get me started on how the public feels about the fact that I still wear a mask at work#I hate it here#I am banging on the walls screaming#You've got holidays and weekends and you only have to deal with your boss and your direct co workers!!!!!!#I know work in all it's forms is coercive and shitty#But PLEASE have some fucking PERSPECTIVE
23K notes
¡
View notes
Text
FRACTURED MASKS ââ #1 | ⯠ⳠâĄ
on the edge of desperation, a chance knocks,
offering salvation wrapped in a red envelope
MASTER | NEXT
wc ; 4.1k warnings ; violence (slapping), cursing
THE hum of the fluorescent lights in the lab was soothing, the faint echo of pens scribbling onto the versitile paper made from processed plant fibers filling the otherwise quiet space. You sat at a corner desk near the back wall away from the other students, bent over your notes; the pages filled with medical terminology and formulas, a language you knew well.
Frankly, it was all you had leftâthe work, the research, the dream of the future you were still so desperately clinging to, despite the storm brewing around you. Youâd always known you were meant for something more, something great.
As a little girl, youâd sit in the back of the classroom in America, your home country, gazing out the window daydreaming about what your life would be like in years to come. The world had so much to offer, and you wanted to be part of the change, part of the movement that would make this world a better place. Studying medicine was your true calling, a everlasting dream to help those in need, just as the doctor who treated your parents had done.
Your grip on the pen nestled in your hand tightened at the thought of them, a heavy sadness weighing in on your heart. They were both hardworking people who fought through their own struggles, but they gave you everything they couldâlove, support, and dreams of a better future. Your mother had always been the one to say, âYouâre going to do something great, something that will change the world.â Your father, though quiet, had always supported that belief, his pride evident whenever you made a small achievement. You were their only child, the only one to carry on their legacy, and they poured everything into your future.
But when they died, everything came crashing down.
It had happened so quickly. One moment, they were fineâhealthy, full of life, planning for your future in medicineâand the next, they were gone. The cancer had come back, worse than before, it took both of them in the blink of an eye. Youâd never really had the chance to grieve properly; instead you had to grow up in an instant, picking up the pieces of your shattered world.
You found yourself alone in a vast, cold world, with no one to turn to. The grief felt like a dark cloud, following you everywhere. No brothers, no sisters, no extended familyâjust you. The silence was suffocating. The weight of carrying on your familyâs name and legacy felt heavier than anything you could ever imagine. Your parentsâ absence was a constant, an unspoken ache carried with you every day.
But you had to keep going. They had invested so much in you. Their dreams had been your dreams, and you couldnât just let that die. So you packed your bags, got on a plane, and moved across the world to Korea. Youâd told herself it was for your future, for your studies, but deep down, you were runningârunning from the memories that clung to every corner of your childhood home.
Korea was a new beginning. The medical technology there was unmatched, the advancements in treatment and research were groundbreaking, and it was a place where you could finally make you mark. You would build a new life, one far removed from the painful memories of your parents. You threw herself into your studies, determined to not only make them proud but also to prove that their sacrifices meant something.
Your proficiency in Korean, a skill youâd honed since childhood, made the transition easier. You had taken classes since elementary school in preparation for the opportunity to study abroad. It had been a dream of yours for as long as you could remember, and now that dream was within your reach. You were going to be a doctor, someone who could heal the world.
You didnât notice how lost in thought you were until the PA system crackled to life, breaking your concentration.
âAttention, Miss [name]. Please report to the Head Ministerâs office immediately. I repeat, Miss [name], please report to the Head Ministerâs office.â
You froze, pen still in hand, the words barely registering in your mind. Dozens of paris of eyes landed on you in an instant, butterflies swirled in your belly from the attention. The sudden, sharp jolt of anxiety hit your chest as you sat up straight, setting the pen down. With haste you began packing materials back onto your bag, quickly scurrying out of the study lab and into the hallway.
Your mind racedâyou had no reason to think anything was wrong. You had been keeping up with your assignments, acing exams, staying focused on your studies. What could it be?
Each step echoed down the silent halls of the school. The walk to the Head Ministerâs office felt like it took hours, and by the time you stood outside the door, your palms were clammy, stomach twisted in knots. With a shaky breath, you knocked.
âCome in,â a voice called from within.
You pushed the door open, the dim light inside casting long shadows across the room. The Head Minister, a stern-looking woman with sharp eyes, sat behind her desk, papers scattered before her. Her gaze flicked up when the door clicked shut behind her, but there was something in her expression that sent a shiver down your spineâsomething that made your pulse quicken.
âMiss [name], please, sit,â the Minister said, gesturing to the chair across from her.
You obeyed, feeling the weight of the room settle over the both of you like a cloak. The minister didnât waste time.
âIâm afraid thereâs some troubling news,â she began, her voice cool and detached, as though she had delivered this same message countless times before.
Your heart thudded painfully in your chest. You instinctively clasped your hands in your lap, trying to still the nervous shaking that had overtaken them.
âYour financial status with the school has fallen into the negatives. Thereâs a significant amount of debt you have yet to clear, and unfortunately, itâs put your enrollment in jeopardy.â The Ministerâs words landed like a punch, each one more suffocating than the last.
Your breath caught in her throat. You had been trying to ignore it, telling yourself it wasnât that bad, that youâd find a way. But hearing the words spoken out loud, so matter-of-fact, shattered the fragile illusion you had been clinging to.
âY-Youâre saying Iâm⌠not allowed to continue?â you whispered, voice barely audible.
The Ministerâs expression softened for just a moment, but the coldness never fully left her eyes. âIâm afraid thatâs the case. Until this debt is settled, we canât allow you to continue your studies here. Youâre being put on hold.â
The world seemed to tilt beneath you, the room spinning as the weight of the situation settled into your bones. You had thought she could keep it together, that you could finish what your parents had started for you. But nowânow it felt like the ground was slipping from under you.
âI donât⌠I donât understand,â you stammered, her throat tightening. âHow did this happen? I thought my payments were on track.â
The Minister flicked through a few papers in front of her, her face impassive. âIt appears the balance has been building for some time now, and the payments havenât been made in full. Thereâs an outstanding amount that needs to be cleared immediately.â
Your hands picked harshly at your nails, leg bouncing in anticipation for the answer she would provide to your next question. âHow much is the balance?â
The way she looked at you then, eyes flickering with a slight hint of pity was enough to confirm that it was something way out of your limits.
â60 Million Won.â ($41,120 USD)
Your mind raced, that was at least a years worth of tuition. You couldnât afford this! Not now! Not when everything you had worked forâeverything you had sacrificedâwas on the line. Your dream of becoming a doctor, hope for a future that seemed just within your reach, was slipping away faster than you could grasp it.
âI-I can get the money,â you blurted out, panic rising in your chest. âIâll figure something out. Just give me time, please.â
The Ministerâs expression softened again, but only slightly. âIâm afraid time is no longer a luxury we can afford. Until your financial situation is resolved, Iâm afraid we cannot allow you to remain enrolled.â
A lump formed in your throat, a hot rush of tears threatening to spill over. You wanted to scream, to beg, to plead for them to understandâbut the words stuck, lodged somewhere deep inside you, where they couldnât escape.
You werenât used to being vulnerable, to letting anyone see how far the weight of everything was crushing you. But thisâthis was different. This was your future on the line, and there was nothing you could do.
âTake a few days to process everything, Miss [name],â the Minister continued, her tone unreadable. âWeâll be in touch once the situation has been resolved.â
You nodded, unable to form words, too numb to respond. You stood up, legs shaky, and vision blurring. The room seemed to close in around you as you turned and walked out, each step echoing in the hollow silence.
The door clicked shut behind you, and the reality of the situation crashed down on you with full force. You stood in the hallway for a long moment, not knowing what to do, where to go, or how to keep moving forward. Your entire future had just been ripped away from you, and all you had left was the suffocating weight of uncertainty.
The cold air of the train station bites at your skin, a sharp reminder of the emptiness around you. You sit hunched over on the worn bench, your bag at your feet, clutching your phone like itâs the only thing tethering you to the world. The fluorescent lights buzz faintly overhead, casting a sickly yellow glow on the nearly deserted platform.
At this late hour, there are only a few scattered passengersâan old man reading a newspaper, a couple arguing in hushed tones, a woman sipping coffee to stay awake.
But none of them matter.
Your fingers tremble as you scroll through your phone, searching desperately for a contact, a message, anything that might lead you to him. Your sugar daddyâthe one who promised to take care of you, who helped you get this farâwas supposed to be your safety net. He had always reassured you, always provided. But now, every attempt to call him goes straight to voicemail. Every message the same, ânot deliveredâ.
When youâd first moved to Korea, only 19 years old and barley out of high school, things had been manageable. You found yourself a place to stay in Seoul, a small but cozy apartment. You made school friends, and your studies were progressing well. Then came the sugar daddyâan older man who had a fondness for your ambition, an attraction to your foreignerness.
He offered to fund your education, promising to cover your tuition, rent, and even some living expenses. It was an unexpected stroke of luck. You didnât feel right about it, but you told herself it was temporaryâjust until you got her footing, just until you could fully stand on her own.
At first, it had been easy to accept his help. You wasnât using him, you told herself. He didnât ask for anything beyond your company and very small sexual favors, a kiss here some oral sex there. Youâd convinced yourself you could keep things strictly business. But you were wrong. You had fallen into his world, one of easy luxuries and comfort, and for a while, it felt like a dream.
But dreams are fragile, and sometimes, they shatter without warning.
You try his social media, hoping for some sign, but when you go to type in the filmilar username no profile pops up, youâre hit with the harsh realizationâyouâve been blocked. Completely.
Your heart sinks further as you stare at the blank screen, the gnawing sense of abandonment tightening in your chest. You never knew his real name. He only ever used an alias, a charming façade that you thought was enough. But now you realize just how little you actually knew about him. No name. No address. No way to contact him outside of the platforms he controlled.
Heâs gone.
Your mind begins to race, dozens of questions swirling your brain, yet left unanswered. How long ago had he cut off your expenses? Did he find someone else, someone younger maybe? Did he stop paying your rent aswell?
âFuck.â The sudden thought caused the curse to slip from your quivering lips. Hopefully you wouldnât come home to find an eviction notice tapped to your apartment door.
You know youâve been distant this past year, canceling meetings at the last minute, pushing off wondering touches and kisses. Yet that was no excuse for him to cut you off and leave you completely in the dark. Youâve expressed to have been been stacked with work from your university, trying hard to make it through medical school.
A wave of hopelessness crashes over you, and you press the heels of your hands into your eyes to stop the tears from spilling over. The train station around you feels colder, lonelier, as you sit there, unsure of what to do next. The weight of the debtâthe 60 million won looming over your headâfeels unbearable.
âYou look troubled,â a smooth, unfamiliar voice breaks through your thoughts.
You look up sharply, your eyes meeting a man standing a few feet away. Heâs dressed neatly, almost too neatly for this dingy train station, with a crisp suit and a polished demeanor that feels out of place. Thereâs something unsettling about the way he smiles at youâwarm enough to seem kind, yet sharp enough to put you on edge.
âI couldnât help but notice,â he continues, stepping closer, âyou look like someone with a lot on their mind.â
You shift uncomfortably, hugging your bag tighter. âIâm fine,â you mutter, your voice unconvincing even to yourself.
âAre you?â he asks, tilting his head slightly. His tone is calm, almost soothing, but thereâs a hint of something behind itâcuriosity, perhaps, or calculation. âSometimes, it helps to talk about it.â
You hesitate, unsure whether to brush him off or let the floodgates open. Against your better judgment, the words spill out before you can stop them. âIâm in debt,â you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. âI donât know how Iâm going to pay it off. Iâve tried everything, but nowâŚâ You trail off, swallowing the lump in your throat, head bowed in shame.
The man nods slowly, as if heâs heard this all before. âA difficult situation, no doubt,â he says, his voice laced with an odd sympathy. âBut perhaps thereâs a way out.â
Your head snaps to him so quickly your surprised your neck is still attached to your shoulders. âWhat do you mean thereâs still a way out?â
The man takes a step closer, his polished shoes echoing faintly in the nearly empty station. He sets the briefcase heâs been carrying on the bench beside you with a deliberate precision, the metallic click of the latches breaking the silence. Slowly, he opens it, revealing two neatly stacked piles of red and blue paper squares, along with a thick wad of cash.
You blink at the sight, your heart skipping a beat.
âMiss, would you be interested in a game of ddakji?â
âDdakji?â you repeated, the name sounding unfamiliar on your tongue. Wasnât this an old korean kids game? âWhat is this?â you ask, your voice hesitant as you glance between the vibrant paper and the manâs unreadable expression.
âA game,â he replies simply, his tone light yet oddly menacing. He picks up one of the blue squares and hands it to you. âItâs simple. You take this and try to flip over my red paper square by slamming it down. Every time you succeed, Iâll pay you 100,000 won.â
Your eyes widen slightly at the number, but suspicion quickly creeps in. âAnd if I lose?â
The manâs smile grows, sharp and knowing. âIf you lose,â he says, almost casually, âYou pay me the same amount.â
You freeze, your fingers tightening on the paper in your hands. âW-what..?â
He nods, unbothered by the disbelief in your voice. âThatâs the risk. Itâs only fair, donât you think?â
Your gaze flickers to the money, then back to the manâs face. The desperation in your chest claws at you, urging you to agree. Sixty million wonâthe debt that looms over your headâflashes in your mind. Even if you win just a few rounds, it could make a difference.
âWhat happens if I say no?â you ask, your voice quiet.
âThen nothing,â he replies, his smile unfaltering. âYou walk away, and your situation stays exactly as it is.â He tilts his head slightly, studying you with an intensity that makes your skin prickle. âBut something tells me you wonât.â
You swallow hard, your hands trembling slightly as you look down at the paper square. Against your better judgment, you nod.
âAlright,â you say, trying to sound more confident than you feel. âLetâs play.â
The manâs grin sharpens, and he places a red square on the ground before taking a step back. âWhenever youâre ready,â he says, gesturing for you to start.
You look down at his paper, gripping the blue square tightly. You take a deep breath, then slam it down as hard as you can. The sound echoes through the station, but the red square barely shifts.
The man clicks his tongue in mock disappointment. âTough luck,â he says, stepping forward.
Your stomach sinks. âI donât have the money toââ
âRelax,â he interrupts smoothly, raising a hand to cut you off. âYou look like youâre about to cry. Iâll tell you whatâweâll change the terms.â
You blink, confused. âChange the terms?â
âYes.â He crouches slightly so that heâs at eye level with you. His smile stretches wider, his gaze unrelenting. âEvery time you lose, instead of paying me money, Iâll slap you.â
Your breath hitches, and you recoil slightly at the proposition. âSlap me?â
âItâs fair, isnât it?â he says, his voice calm and composed as if heâs suggesting the most reasonable alternative. âAnd if you win, Iâll still pay you 100,000 won. No money owed. Just a little pain if you lose.â
You stare at him, your heart pounding in your ears. The desperation gnaws at you, urging you forward despite every instinct screaming at you to walk away. Slowly, reluctantly, you nod.
âFine,â you say, your voice barely audible.
The manâs grin widens, and he gestures toward the red square on the ground. âGood. Letâs begin.â
You kneel down again, gripping the blue square tightly. This time, when you slam it down, the red square doesnât even budge.
The man wastes no time. He steps forward, his hand swinging sharply. The slap rings out loud and clear, stinging like fire across your cheek.
You press a hand to your face, glaring up at him with watery eyes. âYou didnât have to hit so hard,â you mutter, more out of humiliation than anger.
He shrugs, unbothered. âThatâs the game.â
You grit your teeth, determination flaring. You pick up the blue square again, readying yourself for another attempt. This time, when you slam it down, the red square flips over with a satisfying snap.
The man raises an eyebrow, mildly impressed. âAtta girl,â he says, pulling a crisp 100,000 won bill from the briefcase and handing it to you.
The money feels heavier than it should in your hand, like a tangible piece of hope. It ignites something in you, pushing you to keep going.
You play again. And again. And again.
The slaps come harder, the sting lingering longer, but every time you win, the money in your hand grows. By the end of it, your cheek is red and sore, your hand aching from the repeated impact of the paper. But youâve amassed a small stack of cashâa temporary reprieve from the weight crushing your shoulders.
The man finally raises a hand, signaling the end of the game. âYouâve done well,â he says, his tone almost approving. âBut if youâre truly interested in changing your life, thereâs a bigger game you can join.â
Your heart sinks at the cryptic offer. âWhat do you mean?â
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small black envelope, wrapped in a red bow. He holds it out to you, his expression unreadable, although for a second you swear you saw a flicker of uncertaintyâguilt, in his eyes.
âCall the number on this card,â he says. âYouâll have the chance to win far more than whatâs in your hands right now. Enough to erase your debt and start fresh.â
You hesitate, staring at the card as if it holds the answer to all your problemsâand maybe it does. But thereâs an edge to his words, a warning you canât quite decipher.
âThink about it,â he adds, stepping away and closing the briefcase with a decisive snap. âBut donât take too long. Opportunities like this donât come often.â
And just like that, heâs gone, leaving you alone in the station with the cash in your hands and the card weighing heavy in your pocket.
The familiar creak of the apartqment door echoes in the silence as you step inside, exhaustion pressing down on you like a physical weight. You shut the door behind you, the click of the lock strangely final. Kicking off your shoes, you shuffle toward the tiny kitchenette, your mind too scattered to bother with anything more than a pack of instant ramen.
The fluorescent light above flickers as you fill a cup with water and pour it into the noodles. You toss the packet into the microwave, pressing a few buttons with little thought. The soft hum fills the quiet space, but it does nothing to soothe the growing ache in your chest.
Leaning against the counter, you glance around the small apartment. The peeling wallpaper, the sagging couch, the pile of bills stacked on the coffee tableâit all feels heavier now. Without the safety net of your sugar daddy, this place feels less like home and more like a trap.
You exhale shakily, running a hand through your hair. âWhat am I supposed to do now?â you mutter, the question hanging in the air.
The microwave beeps, but you donât move right away. Instead, your gaze drops to your bag sitting on the floor by the door. You remember the card. That strange, cryptic envelope the man gave you at the station.
Pushing off the counter, you walk over and crouch down, pulling the card from the pocket of your bag. The glossy surface catches the dim light as you hold it up.
You pull the little envelope open, itâs a small brown card, your thumb traces over the circle, triangle, and square symbols printed on the front before flipping it, revealing the number written inside.
8650 4006
For a moment, you just stare at it, your mind racing with everything that happened todayâthe ministerâs cold words, your sugar daddyâs abrupt betrayal, the stinging slaps, the small stack of cash youâd managed to scrape together.
Sixty million won. The number feels like a noose around your neck, tightening with every second that passes.
You sit down on the edge of the couch, clutching the card in your hand. Your other hand hovers over your phone, trembling as you consider what youâre about to do.
âThis could be it,â you whisper, the words trembling on your lips. âMy way out.â
Or your way into something worse.
But desperation drowns out caution. You dial the number, the ringing filling your ear like the ticking of a countdown.
On the third ring, someone answers. A calm, even voice greets you.
âWould like to participate in the games?â
You close your eyes, your breath hitching. âYes,â you say softly, the word carrying the weight of everything youâve endured.
âI want to play.â
And just like that, your fate is sealed.
a/n â omg guysss first chapter done, so excited to carry on this new story. donât worry in-ho will be introduced in the 2nd or 3rd chapter i wanted to build up the readerâs background and give you guys an understanding of her thought process and life yk đ feel like everyone just rushes their story to get to the good parts đŁđ like whereâs the build uppp ! hope yall enjoyeddd if you liked to be tagged in the next chapter comment down belowww
#o9sessions#the frontman x reader#frontman x reader#hwang in ho x reader#hwang inho x reader#oh young il x reader#oh youngil x reader#001 x reader#squid game#squid game x reader#fractured masks
220 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Babydaddy!simon marrying you!!!!!
(gang this is 18+ im lowkey sorry im horny and can barley write smut lol)
You and Simon elope. Itâs a lot easier than an actual wedding, even if it would be only small. Itâs not like you have many people to invite anyway; Simon would die before having his workmates at something so personal, and motherhood had kept you from seeing your friend for a while now (youâre sure they would show up if you asked, but it all seems like too much work pregnant). Not even the kids come; the eldest has some idea of what is going on but not enough to care that they are being left out of something very important. The others donât care, happy and content to sit staring at subtitles all day rather than being dragged to a marriage ceremony.Â
Simon gets a sitter for them; desperate to prove his worthiness back into your life (even though you are about to marry him), he sets it up and prays it goes off without a hitch. Itâs a courthouse wedding; Simon wears a rare button-down top and slacks that you donât remember ever seeing before (you havenât he realised that he didnât have anything remotely nice to get married in and snuck out to get some after work). You wear a sweet satin mini dress; itâs more light blue than white, but neither you nor Simon could pretend to care about that. Simon certainly canât care, or, for that matter, focus when your legs are on display like that; he feels a certain amount of anger that other people (a geriatric marriage officiant) should get to see the sinful way that your bump is already pressing up against the light blue fabric, breasts popping out to create cleavage that both he and his youngest want a lick at (although for very different reasons).Â
It's a quick process; they arrive around midday. It seems to be the best time to get a sitter to cover. The ceremony is basically over before it began. Itâs a quick and simple thing; itâs romantic and makes Simonâs heart ache but is over quickly. Both have short vows. Simon promises over and over again that youâll never be alone again; he apologizes for not being as present as he should and so on and so forth. He slips the ring onto your hand, and just like that, you're happily married, walking back to the car hand in hand. Simon cannot keep his hands off you the second you are both in the car.Â
âMy pretty little wife,â he murmurs into your neck, pulling you into his lap the second you are both seated, kissing up and down your neck, murmuring in disbelief that you're actually finally his wife.Â
He feels like a horny teenager again, his love boner painful as you make out. You donât let it go further, reminding him that you have a house full of children to get home to. Children who are ecstatic to see you both, they are getting used to seeing Simon around every day, but they certainly arenât used to not seeing you. The rest of the day goes by as normal, not that Simon feels normal; in fact, he feels unabashedly horny. He has to escape his kids; when you get home, he throws aÂ
âbathroomâ over his shoulder before rushing upstairs.Â
He jerks off fast and almost painfully, something so reminiscent of when he is on deployment, hard as hell after receiving a photo from you. The text says, â30-week appointment.â The accompanying image shows you standing in front of a mirror, bra tight over your breasts and belly big and bare, a hand pushed into your back to counter the weight. âFuck,â he texts back. âThatâs hot,â is all he says, already going back in his memories to find a scenario to jerk off to.Â
He doesnât need a scenario today; seeing you all pregnant and pretty wearing his ringâholy fuck, itâs got him going. Going so much that he spills over into the sink, washing away his precious come that he intends to keep you swollen and round with.Â
That night after the kids had gone to bed, he fucks you hard, calling you his âpretty little wifeâ and promising to keep you pregnant over and over again. He groans when you moan; you promise that you're his, his wife to keep barefoot and pregnant till the end of time.Â
#baby daddy Simon Riley#x reader#mae writes đ#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#simon riley smut#task force x reader#task force 141#call of duty fanfic
193 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Swimming Lessons
Billy does not like water. Heâll drink it, but anything like swimming, diving, all around being near large bodies of water is an automatic h-e-double hockey sticks no from Billy. Thatâs why when he and Aquaman were assigned to the same mission which required them both having to swim, he frowned so hard his mouth almost slipped off his face.
Aquaman: *already in the water* âDude, just get in.â
Marvel: âCanât you just go?â
Aquaman: âWeâre supposed to be a partners.â
Marvel: *sighs and very reluctantly lets himself wade into the water* âI hate water. I hate water so much.â
Aquaman: âWhy? Whatâd water do to you?â
Marvel: âI canât swim.â
That wasnât the only reason, but it was a major one. Under the water, Billy couldnât breathe nor could he talk, so that meant he couldnât say Shazam.
Aquaman: âOh, thatâs no problem Cap! Want me to teach you?â
Marvel: âUh⌠YesâŚ?â
Aquaman got a firsthand taste of how bad Marvel was and reaffirmed that heâd be teaching Billy. Thatâs how bad the Batson was.
Anyways, thatâs how like a day later, Billy went to the beach. The day before, he and Mary ended up searching everywhere for some type of life floaties that could fit Cap because neither of them trusted Billy to be able to do this without sinking at least five times. They ended up just taking two life jackets and tying them around Capâs arms and praying that would work. He showed up to the lesson looking and feeling a little ridiculous. It surprisingly only took about a solid minute of Arthur staring for him to figure out the life vests were supposed to be floaties.
Aquaman: âCap, I donât think Iâve seen a child past the age of five wear that.â
Marvel: âIâm sorry some of us struggle, okay?â
Aquaman: âYou struggle that bad?â
Marvel: *super serious* âYes.â
Aquaman: âOh damn.â
*silence*
Marvel: *frowns*
Aquaman: âLook uh-â *trying not to laugh* âWhy donât you just get in the water and weâll see how bad you suck at this.â
Arthur tried to use him going over there as a distraction to quell the need to laugh but uhâŚ
Marvel: *tries to wade into the water and somehow comically trips, falls on his back and starts somehow drowning in shallow water*
Aquamanâs never had to lock in so badly until that moment. He knew his friend would be extremely embarrassed if he laughed so he ended straining every muscle in his face to not laugh. (Basically this)
Eventually, Marvel did learn. Granted, it took like four days, but he did it and the two went to get burgers after in celebration.
#billy batson#shazam#dc captain marvel#captain marvel dc#fawcett city#fawcett#fawcett comics#arthur curry#aquaman
255 notes
¡
View notes
Text
Hello fellow ADHDer, may I interest you in some management tools?
Option 1: goblin.tools the AI tool that breaks down tasks for you. (Note: if you donât want to use AI, you can skip to Option 2)
You can delete sub-tasks that donât apply to you, or click the đŞ icon to break down sub-tasks further. I often find that Iâm not overwhelmed by the number of steps, but instead by trying to hold all those tiny steps in my glitchy working memory.
Option 2: Domestic Labor & Dragons. This strategy originated on TikTok, and most citations trails lead back to @this.isjules but I was unable to find the original video. Hereâs my version of it:
1. On a day when you have a brain cell, make a list of the chores in your house by room or section. Number each item, try to make your list lengths correspond to standard dice numbers so that you can roll on them as tables later. Your options are: 2, 4, 6, 8, 10, 12, and 20. đ˛
3. Assign point values to each chore. The number of points doesnât matter, but I like using 5pts for easier tasks, 10pts and 15pts for medium tasks, and 20pts for especially hard tasks. I made two lists for some unintelligible reason. You can just put the points on the same page, just like write them in another pen color or something.
4. Make your monster. Draw it badly. Use a randomizer website or pull from the monster manual if you want, just donât get too precious with it, the monsterâs purpose is to be defeated and weâre gonna scribble on it. If you want to do a big cleaning day, tally up your total possible points for doing every chore in your house, then divide that by two. (For me, all chores add up to 400pts so I make most of my Big Monsters 200pts)
5. FIGHT! Most of the time I really only end up needing to use the Roll for Chores sheet and the dice, but itâs really fun to scribble on the monster as they take damage and your house gets cleaner. You can optionally assign some reward for defeating the monster, but I just like the dopamine hit of defeating my Blorbo. Mine reset to baby mode upon defeat as seen with Bitey above. Final note: if you refill the same chore twice, take a break!! Get food!! The people who tell you to never stop moving are on their way to burnout!!! You can get momentum again by rolling the dice âjust to seeâ what the next chore would be.
More options: Body Double with a friend, Roleplay that youâre Cinderella or your favorite character, put on a dance music album and only clean until the music stops, invite a friend over to have a reason to make your space clean when they arrive, put on videos of professional cleaners helping people get their space in order, hide shelf-stable snacks at the bottom of piles of clutter and only eat them once youâve reached the bottom of that pile. Do whatever works! Throw shame out the window! If it works for you itâs not dumb!
(Note: this acronym is also sometimes called INCUP or FOCUS. I just like PINCH best.)
Good luck out there, friends! Now I have to go do the cleaning that I procrastinated by making this post. đ
Sincerely,
A fellow ADHDer âžď¸đŚ
Clean home checklist:
"Do the laundry" as if doing laundry doesn't have 27 individual steps that each require other tasks to get done. Each task runs the risk of starting additional secret tasks.
"Organize kitchen" my brain has malware and it's overheating. CPU at 100%. There are no executives at my function
#adhd#managment tools#I made a whole book of these in the year between getting diagnosed and getting medicated#lmk if yâall want to see any other sections#like the one on going to bed#managment menagerie#goblin tools#goblin.tools#AI#coping strategies#domestic labor and dragons#roll for chores#PINCH#neurodivergence#neurodiversity#chores#housekeeping
2K notes
¡
View notes
Text
Wrong move | The Salesman x Fem!Reader
Summary: He thought you were in love with him....maybe he needs to show you how much you need him.
Warnings: SFW - Possessive!Salesman - Obsessive!Salesman - Controling!Salesman - Red flag basically - Unhealthy relationship - Power imbalance - DARK!Salesman - grammar mistakes -
Note: Not part of "Home Bliss", this is a different universe.
"No"
These were the words that have been in the Salesman's mind for a week now. His aparment, a place he used to love coming to since you were here waiting for him now felt like a empy box. Walls too grey to look at, too dull. The food did not have teaste and his bed felt too big.
When did things go wrong ? He did everything right.
Saw you one day at the local park, got enamoured by you. Followed you around, got to know your schendelure so he could see you from afar. Was able to hack your phone to know every last detail. Your social media were poorly secured. He got to know you like he knew his own skin, when he finally did approach you, you were already his.
And after two years, two years of beautiful moments together, perfectly crafted by him, each one calculated and made so you would fall more and more for him. He got you to move in with him, he was accepted by your friends, your family loved him, and saw him like part of it.
He was sure, centrain that this was the right moment. The perfect one. This was your favorite season, favorite month, perfect hour of the day and a well secured place so you would not feel pressure over it.
Some part of him wanted you to come to him willing.
But your words were marked liked fire. The exchange and after events lived rent free inside his head.
How he had managed to keep his facade he has no idea. The aparment (after you refused to get back) was the one that suffered his rage. All the expensive forniture was destroyed by him, some walls had blood by how much he had punched them.
He was a mess, a disaster. How could yo do it ? After everything? Weren't you two the perfect match ?
A ding from his phone, the ding he had set just for you sounded.
"Sorry, I think its better if we stop seeing each other. I will pass to get my things soon"
The phone went flying. Were you breaking up with him by text ? When he had read all the exchange with your friends ? Like how scared you were and how fast it felt. Why were you doing this?
And your doubts ? He never saw them, you seemed content by his side. And loved him like that.
But your personal diary on your phone said different. You felt trapped, like he knew too much, like he was not being honest.
Maybe he should have been more...severe? Showing you just how bad he could be, maybe he let your leash go too large and now he was paying the consequences.
But would he give up ? No. After all you were just confused, and scared, you just needed a reminder of how much you needed him. How he could be the only one for you.
He took the phone back, the screen broke but other functions working. He ignored your message and instead went to his contacts. He had many friends, friends that could ruin you completly.
"I need a favor"
Leaving him was the start of your nightmare.
~â~â~â~â~â~â~â~â~â~
At first the relationship was fine. How does peopel put it ? Honeymoon? Well you two had it for very long.
He was the man any woman could ask for, gentle, caring, doting, never forgot a special date. And would get your favorite things.
But something was off. His eyes, the same dark eyes that sparked when he saw you, these eyes would change to sharp and cold around others. You felt like he was always on you, even when being away for work, he would just know when to send you a message or call you.
Would meet you randomly on the streets, knew when you wanted to do something even when you never mentioned it.
Something was wrong. Your gut told you to run from him but you did not know how. After all on the eyes of everyone he was perfect.
Then he asked to marry you, and you saw your chance. You could say you got scared and that things just did not work out after it.
But it did not go that way.
Once you had got your things from his aparment your Boss called, he had said how sorry he was but the company was cutting off some employees and you were one of them.
Your work, your dream work. The one you had passed years preparing yourself, tears and blood for it. The one that made your parents proud.
Ripped out from you with one call.
Then it came your social circle. Slowly your Friends stopped meeting with you, some removed you from their social media, and some blocked your number. You never got to know what was wrong, or what you did.
And later your parents, it was a shame losing your job, it was worse not being able to get another one.
"Sorry we are looking for something different"
"Your solicitude was read but right now we need another thing"
"We will call you"
Rent became impossible, and so you had to move back with them. Your mother was not happy, telling you how much of a failure you were, how your brother was making money overseas and how your sister had made a family.
Your father did not even look at you. Like he felt guilty, not even the company he used to work for would take you in.
Your days became a circle of sending out curriculums and doing your best to keep your parents happy even when you knew they did not want you there.
And some days you would go to the park and cry. Not caring if others saw you, your life was ruined, you had nothing. Maybe....maybe if you had said yes....
Checking your phone you saw the contacts, mom, dad, brother, sister and him. You were sure you had removed his number but it kept coming back. Maybe you were getting sick because of the stress. Your finger went over the call buttom till you finally hitted it.
~â~â~â~â~â~â~â~â~â
He never wanted to see you like this, so broken, so out of life. Maybe he had insolated you too much. Let some lies to your Friends and mother that grew and now they hated you. Your father was a rough one, he had used some...other methods for him. But did coperate at the end.
"You dont seem so good" Were his first words and you looked down at your lap.
"Im sorry for have called you.., after everything"
"Dont say anything. I was glad I got your call. I wanted to know how you were doing" He lied, he knew you were miserable.
Only him could fix it.
"I have...well things have been bad" You addmited "I dont want to burden you with it, maybe this was a mistake"
You went to get up and leave but a firm grip on your hand stopped you. His eyes, cold and sharp like he was seeing his prey.
You, you were his prey.
"Sit" It was an order not a request "Lets talk for a bit more, maybe I can help you, for the old times"
~â~â~â~â~â~â~â~â~â
"Are you sure? (Y/N) you can still go back and say no" Your fathers voice cut off.
You were wearing a beautiful weeding dress, outside from a ceremenoy to take place.
"Dad...you have been saying that since I told mom and you that I was getting married. This is good, we actually made up and I even got my work back, with double pay. Was not what you wanted for me?"
Your father did not respond. He still remembers that night. The night your "perfect" boyfriend appear. When he told him how your life would be so bad you would be wishing you were gone.
"And if thats not enoguh, maybe leaving her limp like you will do the trick"
He had tried for many months to hide his injury, the injury that man had caused him and promised to do the same to you.
"Dad? Its your leg hurting? You are crying"
"No dear, im fine. A little emotional to see you go"
When the doors opened and he walked you in and saw the monster you were going to marry he felt like dying there. When he gave you to him he could see it, he was liking his pain.
"I will take good care of her" Were his only words, and by the time his eyes were on you it had changed.
Love? Obsession ? A twisted sense of care ? No one could tell, no one dared to ask.
Him ? He was just happy you finally accepted what was best for you.
Him, he was the best for you.
"Till death do us apart"
Not even death would be able to separate you from him.
#squid game imagines#squid game x y/n#squid game x reader#the salesman x reader#the recruiter x reader
210 notes
¡
View notes
Text
The Other Woman - Part 2
A/N: I'm blown away by the support you guys have given me with this part. I want to thank everyone who commented on the first post and gave me feedback! I'm always happy to recieve constructive critisim to make my work better for you all. This part 2 is a little different from how I usually handle part twos, so I hope you guys enjoy!
Link to PT 1
Your eyes itched as you dragged them open the next morning. The tears you shed last night had completely exhausted you by the time you got back to your room in the Palace, you had just flopped into bed without changing, skirts covered in melted icing.
A part of you was glad for it, as you had something to distract yourself from the soreness of heart break in your chest. You had no idea what you were going to do when you headed to court. The Kingâs personal guard would be there, and as far as you were aware, he hadnât seen you the previous night.
Which means to him, nothing had gone wrong between the two of you.
You werenât sure what to do knowing that. You could: A) Pretend nothing is wrong, carry on with this affair like youâd never seen what you had, or B) End things with the Orc and live with the guilt of what you did for the rest of your life.
Option A was just too difficult for you to do. You couldnât bare the thought of doing something so heartless to that lovely Orc lady who worked in the kitchens. She was too kind to you, and always willing to lend a shoulder when you needed it⌠She would be a great mother.
So, it looks like option B is the only way to go.
As you finished remaking your bed, a shaky sigh escaped you as you leaned against your mattress, trying to steady yourself to face the day.
Leaving your quarters, you walked through the halls with your head in the clouds, thinking about how exactly you were supposed to end this affair. Would the Kingâs guard be angry? Upset?
After stewing on it, a wave of indignity washed over you. Really, none of this is your fault, itâs not like you were aware of his marriage. So, why should you be the one to break it off?
Of course, the last thing you wanted was to stay with the Orc, but if anything, he should be the one ending things with you! He was the one who chose to lie to you and hurt you in that way.
But how would you send that message to him? Itâs not like you could just tell him what you saw. He might try to convince you to stay with him and you would not be persuaded into doing such a thing.
⌠Maybe, if you ignored him, heâd get the message and just leave you alone? Then that way, heâd know that you were angry with him and then, he would have no choice but to apologise to you. Heâs not a stupid Orc, he should realise sooner or later what you were upset with him about.
But then, how do you regain your dignity as a Lady?
You chewed your lip as you greeted the Queen, apologised for your lateness and then followed her, alongside the other ladies in waiting to the throne room.
Thinking about this anymore would have to wait. You had a job to do as the Queens lady in waiting.
Their excited whispers brought you back down to Earth.
âDo you think that heâs handsome?â
âI donât know, have you ever seen a forest dweller before?â
âWell no, but that doesnât mean that heâs not good looking!â
â(Y/N) what do you think?â
âHm?â You looked over your shoulder at the others. âWhat are you talking about?â
âYouâve really been all over the place this week havenât you?â One of the ladies said, âyou know weâve been preparing for the Forest Fae? Well, the Lord of the Forest Fae, is apparently, devilishly handsome. And, heâs not married or in any other kind of commitment with a woman or man!â
Another one of the ladies giggled, âdo you think heâs come here looking for someone to marry?â
âUnlikely.â The third lady said, dismissively. âMen of any species love to flounder, even when theyâre married. Why make their promiscuity more complicated than it has to be? You agree with me, donât you (Y/N)?â
You didnât answer. Due to recent experience, you had no interest in trying to romance a Fae Lord, there was no point in trying to if he was so easily led astray. âAll men seemed to be like that.â You said, callously. âEven if he is loyal to those he sleeps with, Iâm not looking to marry a Fae Lord.â
âOh come on (Y/N), donât pretend youâre not even slightly interested!â
âLadies,â The Queen shushed and all the other women fell silent. âGossip is unbecoming of all of you. If any of you wish to become involved with the Lord, Iâve heard heâs not one for those who spread rumours.â
Upon reaching the throne room, all the chattering of the ladies had fallen silent.
The doors to the impressive room opened, the Queen, you and the other ladies in waiting taking their respective places next to their mistress as they waited for the Fae Lord to make his entrance.
Sunlight caught the Queenâs glittering necklace, making you look around in surprise. And infuriatingly, you caught the Kingâs Guardâs eye. He smiled at you, eyes kind and wide like he was expecting you to return it.
Instead, you whipped your head away from him and locked on the throne room door. Other courtiers bustled around the room, discussing whatever was on the nobles minds at that moment in time.
For now, you would just have to stick to your plan of ignoring him. What else could you do until you could think of something more suitable for vengeance?
Soon, the doors to the throne room opened and the whole room fell silent.
The first few Fae glided in like they were sliding on ice, their ethereal beauty suffocating and snuffing out any other attractive person in the room. There were eight of them, four entering from opposite sides of the doors, who twirled in what looked to be spider web like dresses, their skirts sparkling in the light as they came to a stop, their long blonde hair falling down their backs with an eery gracefulness.
One of the ladies next to you mumbled something about how the Fae were so lucky, but you were so focused on not looking around at the Orc standing beside the King, that you couldnât hear what the rest of her sentence was about.
After the graceful â and attention stealing â dance, a Fae man, taller than the others youâd seen so far, graced the courts prescence.
His hair was so white you might have thought that he was an old man, if not for his smooth skin untouched by aging. His eyes were deep pools of black that threatened to suck you in and never let you go, while his smile was kind and serene.
The Fae Lord came to a stop a few feet away from the thrones, and bowed his head. âYour Majestys, it is so wonderful to see you all again. Iâm so pleased that I could finally make this trip like my father before me.â
âAnd we are pleased to have you, my Lord.â The King returned. âAs itâs your first time staying here at the Palace, weâve prepared a little celebration in honour of your new positionâŚâ
As the King droned on about how he hopes that this will be the new beginning of a fruitful alliance between humans and Fae, yada-ya, a chill went down your spine.
While the Kingâs announcement had been going in one ear and out the other, you brought yourself back into the room and carefully searched for the source of your discomfort⌠only to find the Fae Lord, looking directly at you.
You stood a little taller, returning his gaze in an attempt to be polite. When you gave him a polite inclination of the head, his smile widened as the King finished his speech.
âAnd so, we will have this little ball to welcome you and hope that your stay will be as comfortable as possible.â
âYes,â the Fae Lord said, airily. âIâm sure it will be.â He turned to look back at the King and inclined his head once again. âI appreciate that the ball isnât until tonight, and since this is your court, Iâd like to ask if I can be a little forward, your Majesty?â
The King frowned, but nodded his head.
âYou see, I couldnât help but notice that lovely lady standing over there,â the Fae Lord pointed at you, âand was wondering if it would be too much for me to ask her for her first dance tonight?â
Your eyes widened.
The other ladies beside you, nudged you in the ribs. âSo it was you he was looking at! I was wondering why his eyes were wandering, I thought he was just bored!â
Face burning, your eyes darted to the Queen and in the process, caught sight of the Orcs face.
His nose was scrunched up as he snarled, âawfully cocky, arenât you?â
The Fae Lord ignored the Orc as he looked at you once again, hands behind his back.
When you looked at the Queen, she smiled at you and jerked her head to the Fae. âWell? You donât have to ask me for permission, Lady (Y/N).â
All eyes on you, you bit your lip and sucked in a deep breath. Most of all, you could feel the Orcâs eyes baring into the side of your skull, like he was trying to make you face him, daring you to accept the Lordâs offer.
But the image you saw the previous night, flashed through your mind.
Spite leading you, you answered the Fae Lord. âIâll have my first dance with you, my Lord.â You said, firmly.
The Fae bowed his head to you, âI look forward to it, my Lady.â And with that, he said his goodbyes to the King and Queen before the entire court was dismissed.
The rest of the day went by with a bubbly air, all the ladies sneaking glances and smiles at you as you went about your day.
You, yourself, could hardly believe that you had accepted the dance. It was true, you werenât interested in romancing this Fae Lord in the slightest⌠but if it meant that you could piss off the Kingâs Guard, then you would gladly accept anything else that the Fae Lord had to offer.
After all, itâs not like the Orc could jump in and say that you couldnât do something, people would get suspicious then.
As soon as the Queen had sent the ladies in waiting to go and prepare for the ball later in the afternoon, they all pounced on you.
âI canât believe it!â One of them said as they took you by the wrist. âHe really asked you, in front of the whole court!â
âItâs just a dance,â you told them all as you made your way back to your apartments. And that was all it would probably be, you told yourself. âIt was just formality that I accept him. It would have been an awful start to his stay if I had told him no.â
âBut even so, to ask you in front of the entire court!â Another one of the ladies squawked. âHe must really like you.â
âWe havenât even formally met.â You said.
âOh canât you just be romantic for one minute?!â The first Lady huffed. âIâm imagining a star-crossed lovers romance, where he dramatically proposes to you just before heâs about to leave, flying through the corridors, abandoning his carriage in search of you-â
âAlright.â You said, firmly. âI get it. Well you can have your fantasies all you like.â Once you reached your apartments, you yanked open the door and slammed it shut behind you, locking the other ladies outside.
Sliding to the floor, you pulled your knees to your chest and squeezed. When youâd first started seeing the Orc, all you did was fantasize like that. Dream of running away with him and sharing all sorts of romantic ventures together.
But any kind of desire for that experience had left the moment you saw his wife.
You didnât want to colour all men with the same brush, but a betrayal like the Orcs, isnât something that you can just shake off.
And although it gave you the slightest bit of pleasure to know that the Orc was angry with the Fae, you knew you couldnât allow yourself to get caught up in the romance of it all. He may be the exact same as the Kingâs Guard for all you knew.
And⌠you didnât want to end up hurt again.
Once evening finally did come around and you joined with the other ladies in waiting â who were all too eager to have you be the leader of the group â the ballroom was full of chatter, people drinking and watching couples dance in the centre of the room.
âOh, heâs not here yet?â Frowned a lady beside you, âdonât worry, heâll turn up soon Iâm sure, most of the other Fae are here. You should sit by the entrance that way, heâll see you as soon as he enters.â
The suggestion made you want to roll your eyes. While you were going to dance with this Fae, you didnât want to be seen as desperate for company. Taking a glass of wine from a passing waiter, you decided to hover to the side of the room.
As you sipped on the delicate glass, your eyes scanned the room where you spied the Queen dancing with the King, the other ladies mingling and chatting animatedly with other guests.
You caught yourself glancing at the entrance to the doors a lot. Keeping an eye out for the Fae Lord. You had to keep internally slapping yourself. This was just a means of getting back at the Kingâs guard.
And perhaps it was because the Kingâs guard was standing opposite the room, within perfect line of sight of keeping an eye on you that you were eager for the Fae Lord to arrive.
The Orcâs eyes glazed over the room, mostly following the King, but occasionally, he found you.
Anger boiled in your veins as you kept your eyes firmly fixed on the doors to the ballroom.
Even now, the Orc was good at keeping his affection for you a secret.
A part of you wanted to throw the wine glass in your hand at him, just to keep him on edge.
But, before you could put your thoughts into practice, gasps echoed around the room, drawing your attention to the ballroom doors.
The crowd parted as the Fae Lordâs eyes searched the room and found you. His eyes lit up at the sight of you and he passed through the crowd of people, and held a hand out to you. âThere you are,â he said, smiling. âWhat are you doing hiding in the shadows over here? A pretty thing like you shouldnât be hidden away like this.â
You shook your head as he took a wine glass from a waiter and sipped from it, âdo you mind if I have a drink before we dance?â
âNo, not at all my Lord.â You replied.
Over his shoulder, you chanced a glance at the Orc, whose eyes were now locked onto you and the Lord.
The Fae spoke, âIâm sorry I didnât ask for your name first before asking for your dance, my LadyâŚ?â
â(Y/N).â You answered smiling. âThank you, for asking me for this dance.â You held your hand out to him, which he took and pressed a kiss onto your knuckles. A pleasant chill ran up your arm.
The Fae Lord bowed his head as he took another sip from his glass. âItâs an honour that you accepted. I should be thanking you for not humiliating me in front of all those courtiers.â
You chuckled at that. âI wouldnât have done that to you, that wouldâve been cruel, even if you were being very forward.â
âI just donât have a care for all of these silly procedures,â the Fae said, waving his free hand around the ballroom. âThereâs no point in any of it, Iâd have preferred that the King and I just talk about what Iâm here for and then to just leave, you know. But, a simple ball isnât so bad.â
âSo, youâd say youâre a simple man?â You asked.
âCompletely.â The Fae finished his drink and you rushed to do the same too.
âMy Lady, please, donât do that on my account, we have the whole evening to dance, you can take your time.â He pulled the glass by the stem away from your lips.
You frowned, holding your free hand up to cover your mouth. âBut I donât want to keep you waiting, it would be rude of me to do that.â
With a sly wink, the Fae Lord said in a low whisper, âif I didnât want to be kept waiting by you, I wouldnât have asked for your first dance.â
You gave him a suspicious look, to which the Lord replied, âI want to get to know you, (Y/N).â
âWhy?â You asked, shortly. âWeâve never even met before.â
The Fae Lord didnât flinch at your tone. Instead, he searched your eyes. âBecause, it seemed as though you were in need of some cheering up.â He said, simply. âAnd I donât like seeing people upset.â
With a gentle smile, he patted your shoulder. âDonât feel like you have to tell me whatâs going on right now, after all, we did just meet each other. But whenever youâre ready, Iâm here if you want to talk.â
You stared at him. Was he being serious? As you looked into his eyes you could sense no malice, no playfulness or manipulation in his face⌠Maybe, it wouldnât be so bad to give this Fae a chance?
Once youâd finished your drink the pair of you took to the dance floor.
And for the next few days, he always made a point of talking to you. At first, it was mundane things, how did you sleep? Did you eat breakfast yet? Before it became more involved questions, like what your family did for business, asked about your other ladies in waiting and if they were doing well.
And gradually, you started to look forward to your little chats and began to ask about him and his life. It turned out he was an only child and took the Lordship after his father had died of some kind of tree associated illness.
He was funny, had a quick wit and was fond of lymerics. He liked the smell of morning dew on grass and the way the forest smelt after a rain storm. Oh, and he enjoyed rum cake.
Your stomach bubbled with excitement every morning now at the prospect of seeing him around the Palace and speaking to him in the evening, the Orc barely even crossed your mind anymore.
Except for when you were on your way to your apartments one time, and the Orc ambushed you from a dark corner of the halls.
âWhat is with you?â He snarled at you. âYouâre completely ignoring me in favour of that pretty Fae man.â
You didnât spare the Orc a glance and kept walking. âHeâs nice to me.â You shrugged, âI canât talk to other men?â
âItâs not just talking to other men!â The Orc hissed. âYouâve been ignoring me and the gifts I leave you, along with letters as well! Whenever I enter your rooms to give you something else, the other gift is always left unopened!â
He grabbed you by the wrist, forcing you to stop in your tracks. He tightened his grip, âdid I do something wrong?â He asked you. âTell me if I have, I will do what I have to do make up for it.â
Anger flared like a fire stoked with gunpowder. You wanted to yell at him, to shout at him that he should go back to his wife, confess that he was an adulterer and that he should be begging for her forgiveness.
But for some reason, you couldnât let that anger escape. It refused to climb up and out of your throat. You shook your hand free of his grip. âYou really want to fix it?â you hissed. âYou can leave me alone. Pretend that this never happened. Take your hush gifts and give them to the person who really deserves them!â
And with that, you stormed off to your apartments.
Once you were inside the drawing room, you let out a groan of frustration. Of course, going off with the Fae Lord was definitely one way of getting revenge⌠but it didnât feel like it was enough.
You still felt awful for the Orc lady, who was pregnant with that adulterers baby. There had to be something else you could do⌠some other way of getting back at him and really sticking it to the Kingâs guard.
And then, an idea came to you. It was a risk to ask, sure⌠but, the Fae Lord really seemed genuinely interested in you. And he did say himself that he would be open to listening to you if you had any problems. Who knows? Maybe he would be up for your revenge too.
So, that night you arranged a private dinner for the two of you, away from court to tell him what was really going on.
He was perplexed by your request to meet him in a place away from the public eye, but never the less accepted and arrived to dinner with that same pleasant smile he always gave you.
âWhatâs all this about?â He had asked as you finished setting the table.
You intertwined your fingers together and clasped them in front of you, as if you were about to start praying.
â⌠Do you remember when you told me that you could sense a sadness within me?â You asked. And over dinner, you told him everything. The secretive meetings, the presents. As you told your sombre tale, you realised how badly it all truly sounded.
Of course, the affair was awful enough on itâs own⌠but the fact that the Fae Lord had been unwittingly helping you in your payback, would come across as you using him.
And as you finished with the climax of your story, the Fae Lordâs fists clenched tighter around his cutlery. His jaw tightened.
You bit your lip, wanting to explain yourself. âI have to say that your asking me to dance in front of the whole court was what inspired me to continue on with this plan of revenge. I have truly enjoyed spending time with you and didnât mean to use you my LordâŚâ
âYou have nothing to be sorry for.â The Fae spat. âItâs an awful thing for him to do to you, itâs no wonder he was so against us dancing and being seen together in the first place. I had half a mind to complain to the King about his behaviour.â
He knocked the butt of his fork on the table as the Lord looked around your drawing room, like there would be some kind of explanation somewhere. âHow dare he use someone like that to get his own rocks off!â The Fae Lord hissed. âAnd especially you. You should have told me sooner, this isnât something that you should have to deal with alone!
âNo, do you know what?â The Fae pointed at you, âdonât do anything else until I say so, alright? Weâre going to get this bastard man-whore⌠or should it be Orc-whore?â He gave you smug smile as you laughed. âFor this plan to work,â he continued, âIâll need to ask permission from someone before I go through with it.â
You frowned. âAsk permission for what?â
The Fae Lord gave another sly grin, âItâs a surprise.â His smile faded as he reached out across the table with a free hand and took yours in his, âIâve grown very fond of you, (Y/N) and I hope that you have of me too, so with that in mind, please trust me, okay?â
He was right, you had grown fond of him and his presence. It would be strange for him to not be around in court any more. Your heart sunk in your chest at the realisation that he wouldnât be around for much longer.
You nodded. Lowering your head, you stared at your empty plate and sighed. â⌠I feel really silly for thinking that he could have actually liked me.â
âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â The Fae Lord asked, frowning. âI like you.â
You sighed. âI mean honestly liked me. Not just used me as a means to have an affair⌠I thought that we would get married one day andâŚâ You gripped your skirts.
For a moment, the Fae stayed silent. âYou donât deserve to be loved by trash like him.â He said, firmly. He gave another squeeze of your hand. âAnd weâll make sure he knows it. So donât put yourself down, alright? Itâs not you whoâs in the wrong, itâs him.â
And once again, he was right. You sniffed. It made you feel a lot better to hear someone say it out loud, and to talk to someone about this affair. It was like a huge weight had been lifted off your chest.
Weeks went by and everything continued on as it had been before. The Fae Lord acted no differently than before your dinner together and the Kingâs guard grew more and more furious each time he saw you and the Fae together.
He had stopped bothering you since youâd told him to leave you alone⌠but there was still that foreboding feeling that the Orc was still looking for ways to win back your approval, proved by his scathing looks of the Fae Lord when you and he were together.
And with that feeling hovering in the air at court, you began to realise how stupid you must have been, to believe that you were only worthy of such a deceitful kind of love. You deserved so much more, wanted so much more.
The strangest part about knowing that, was that you felt it might come true very soon. You didnât know how you could tell, you just knew it.
You began to worry as the final days of the Fae Lordâs stay drew near. There still had been no update on the Lordâs revenge plan and when you asked him about it, heâd always reassured you and given your hands a reassuring squeeze. âIâm just making the final preparations, alright? Donât worry about a thing, Iâve got this.â
It was all too soon that the final week of his stay around. Everyone in the Palace was suddenly mournful that the Fae Lord and his company would be departing.
The Monday of the week the Lord was going to leave, you awoke to find a gift box. It was carved of wood, the bark of the tree still on itâs exterior and top, with a mossy bow tying it shut.
And as you opened it up, you couldnât help but gasp at the sight you saw. In a bed of moss, was a necklace made of spider web, droplets of water beads strewn around it delicately. Underneath it, was a note:
I would like to give you a surprise gift every day leading up to the final day before I leave. I hope that if you appreciate this gift, youâll wear it today and the others that are to come.
Others to come? Was this part of the revenge plan that the Lord had cooked up?
Without a second thought, you put on the gift and when you entered the Queenâs apartments that morning, all the of other ladies practically screamed with excitement for you.
Even the Queen â who never normally allowed herself to be emotional â got involved with her ladies delighted chattering.
The next morning, it was a bracelet made of hardened tree sap â the note detailed that if you licked it, it would make for a good snack â the morning after that, a broach made of butterfly wings.
And every day you wore them, eventually looking more and more like a forest Fae than a human noblewoman.
When the day finally came of the Fae Lordâs departure, you found that there was no gift that morning. Although strange, it didnât surprise you.
He was leaving today after all, perhaps he just didnât have time to leave one final gift.
With a heavy heart, you made your bed, adorned yourself with all the gifts you had received that week, and set off to go to court to wish the Fae Lord a good journey home.
Following the Queen to the throne room, the rest of the ladies in waiting seemed to be uncharacteristically quiet. When you gave them strange looks, they all pursed their lips or looked away from you, as if they were trying to hide something from you.
Even the Queen refused to look at you. Although you were sure that you caught a small smile on her lips whenever you all turned a corner.
When you entered the throne room, it was packed with courtiers, all chattering as usual. But there was something different in the air. You werenât sure what it was, but there was certainly something going on without your knowing.
Once you had taken your place beside the Queen, the doors to the throne room opened and in stepped the Fae Lord with his company.
You had hoped that he would make time for a private goodbye, or at least tell you how his plans for revenge had been progressing.
The whole time you had seen him in court or in other places in the Palace, it seemed as though he was doing nothing to try and help you with your revenge plan.
A part of you wanted to be angry with him for being so slacked about it.
But you couldnât bring yourself to be. At the end of the day, youâd been able to get back at the Orc in some way; throughout the whole week of you wearing the gifts that the Fae Lord had been giving you, the Kingâs guard said nothing to you, apart from giving you foul glares from across the room whenever he saw you.
âYour Majesty's, I must thank you for your hospitality these past weeks, it has been nothing but delightful.â The Fae Lord announced.
As soon as the sentence had left his lips, the whole court went silent, hanging onto his every word.
âBut, if you do not mind, your Majesty,â he looked at the Queen, âI would like to steal one of your ladies in waiting.â
You furrowed your eyebrows at him as the Queen smiled at him. âBut of course, itâs been difficult to ignore that you certainly have a favourite among my girls.â She looked at you and tilted her head. âGo on, (Y/N).â
Your head darted between the two. Again, you caught the Orcs eye, who gave you a warning look of carefully concealed fury.
At that, you straightened your back and headed over to the Fae Lord. Once you had come before him, he held his hand out to you.
You took it. Sandwiching your hand between his, he looked you in the eye. âI know weâve only known each other for a few weeks,â he said, âbut theyâve been some of the best weeks of my life. Youâre funny and smart,â he lowered his voice. âVengeful.â
Rolling your eyes with a smile, he continued, âbut most of all, you make me happy. So, I ask that you come back to the forest with me and be my wife?â
Your jaw dropped and you clasped your hands to your mouth. âYou⌠you canât be seriousâŚâ
The Fae Lord let an abashed smile come over him. âI am⌠so, if youâll have me as a husbandâŚâ He pulled a ring, made of wood from his pocket, a white, misted crystal adorned the top of the ring. âThis is the final gift⌠Iâm sorry that there wasnât one for you to wake up to this morning, but I felt you may appreciate it more if I gave it to you in front of everyone.â He gave you a knowing look.
You allowed a devious grin to broaden your lips.
An aww escaped the crowd, followed by a few claps. But before you could give your reply, a shout rang out.
âNo!â You and the Fae Lord whipped around to find the Kingâs guard, abandoning his post. âNo, this is completely inappropriate!â
The Fae Lord pushed you behind him, as the Orc towered over the pair of you. He jabbed a thick green finger at the Fae, âwhat makes you think you can just wander in here and take one of the ladies in waiting?!â
âActually,â the Fae returned, plainly. âHer father gave me permission. I asked him last night before coming here⌠Unlike some people here, Iâm actually upfront with future family.â
Your eyes widened as the court gasped and muttering began to rise from the onlookers.
You gripped the Faeâs arm and squeezed it. âNo, please donât. Youâve done enough.â
He looked at you, then back at the Orc. âWell, itâs all down to (Y/N)s decision anyway.â The Fae Lord raised an eyebrow and smirked. âAfter all, itâs not like you have any interest in her, is it?â
The Kingâs guard scowled at the Fae. But he said nothing.
âCome back here, now!â The King snapped from his throne. âDonât ruin this moment for the Lady (Y/N) any more than you have!â
âBut you canât possibly allow this!â The Orc turned to face the Monarchs.
âI just did.â The King glared at his guard. He looked at you with kind eyes as he went on, âwell, what is your answer?â
Looking directly at the Orc, you took the ring from the Fae Lord and slid the ring on your finger as slowly as possible.
The Fae Lord grinned and pulled you into a tight hug as the court let out an applause.
Wishing the court goodbye, you and the Fae Lord turned and left, without even giving a second glance to the Orc, who was left in the centre of the room, stunned.
âNow this, was a great revenge plan.â You whispered as the pair of you walked down the corridors.
You bit your lip, âI⌠I was worried that this was just going to be some kind of holiday fling for you.â
The Fae Lord stopped in his tracks, taking your hand. âMy darling, I could never, do that to you.â
Hi! Thank you so much for reading my story! If you like this kind of content, you should check out my Patreon! There, I post stories twice a week and earlier than I post on Tumblr. I also post exclusive stories there too where you wonât be able to find anywhere else.
If youâre not sure about signing up, I have a 7 day free trial enabled on my lowest tier so you can see if you like my work written there!
Taglist <3
@sunndust @greenie-c @enchantedsyleveon @sofiafantasies @akiitemo @neobangverse @tacodemon @chinxinsomnia @y34hs @loudlittledemon @romula69 @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni @eliza12 @0gum-zee0 @silencethenewscreaming @blackjack-tempest @darkleenkle @minnie-rae @etherealinthewoods @nympippi @mushie-the-monatch @ur-suffering-is-my-satisfaction @lostsoul0906 @worm-in-a-bug @loo-looland @hhtgdtbjikhtd @littlelilies @im-eating-rn @0rgans2high @a-strawberry-typing @elita1 @spencerino @manikosii @jojos-wife @silliestfella @x-ne0n-x @wingedhairdoghostpeanut-blog @greatkoalawizard @bellamys-girl1 @m-e-s-s @sorrybutimleavingyou @pinkchips @imaginationfromyou @vampykitkat @galaxygirlsblog @gigikaa @odycal-pbarnes @goths-random-world @serenaphoenix81 @reginaofmischief @cherryblossomfox @unabashedjudgefestivalllama-blog @glenxy @chaoticevilbakugo @kwashere01 @froggyreader @kolddusek @aiysan2 @yumayuu
#monster lover#monster romance#monster x human#monster x female#orc fiction#orc boyfriend#monster x reader#monster x you#orc romance#orc x reader#orc x reader angst#fae x reader#fae x human#fae x you#fae x female!reader#fae#fantasy romance#fantasy#romantasy#romantasy angst
240 notes
¡
View notes