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melodymunson · 2 days ago

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Stranger Things- the To Do List chapters 5 & 6

Chapter 5- Edwina, Billy, and reader

Chapter 6- Robin, Chrissy, and reader

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chapter 5 Billy Hargrove x reader & Edwina Munson

When I think about you I touch myself.

2.3K

When Billy’s family goes out of town he throws a party at Edwina’s band the Hawkins SheDevils plays at. You and Edwina decide to make his night more interesting when he finds out you are into him and that you also like girls.

NSFW (69 and scissoring, squirting all with Edwina. Voyeurism with Billy & Billy stroking himself).

-with Edwina 69 -squirting

Another day as a lifeguard, Billy was looking hot as ever even sweating and shirtless on duty. Even with his sunglasses, he looked stunning. The pool moms were there, even Karen Wheeler, with too much makeup. The kids were loud, but Billy luckily blew his whistle on them. Wearing a one-piece red swimsuit was far from being sexy but you pulled it off well.

Putting more sunscreen on during your break your eyes locked with Billy's high from your lifeguard tower. Billy's gaze met yours and you licked your lips. Taking your cold water bottle you drank some and then poured some of it over your swimsuit, getting your nipples hard and making sure Billy noticed it. When the lifeguard shift was over, you took a dip in the pool at closing time just floating on your back.

“Hey, good looking. You want to close up for the day?”

“Sure.”

“I’d stay but I need to take my car into the shop. Hope you understand. Hey listen my dad is going out this Fourth of July weekend and I’m gonna have a party on Saturday. You wanna come?”

“Sure. I would love to.”

He gave you a wink then left to get changed in his locker.

On the night of the party, you showed up dressed to the nines in all leather- a red leather top and black pants with Barb and Nancy already there. Before going into the party, you shared a joint with Argyle and Eden in his van. One thing led to another and you were making out and fooling around with them before going inside Billy's place.

Edwina was playing with the Hawkins SheDevils. They were doing a rendition of Girls Girls Girls by Motley Crue and she looked stunning in black latex and platform red leather boots. Catching her eye she winked at you and started playing Cherry Bomb by The Runaways. You and Nancy danced as you drank some wine from solo cups and Billy came over to you wearing his leather jacket and a Guns N Roses tanktop with ripped jeans.

When they started playing some original songs more people began dancing and you were having the time of your life singing along to every word. Barb was even getting into the party spirit and singing along. The way her fingers moved along the fretboard of her guitar was amazing, and the band sounded spectacular. Nothing about the evening was dull and Billy's party was the best.

Edwina was having the best time onstage taking to it naturally just like her twin Eddie. Everything about tonight was perfect and you wouldn't change a thing. All she looked at was you and you couldn't take your eyes off her or how stunning she was. When they finished playing most everyone toasted with champagne glasses, but Billy opted for beer.

“Hey, gorgeous. Are you having fun?” Billy asked as he put an arm around your shoulder.

“I’m great. I’m enjoying your party so far.”

“Great. Maybe you want to make yourself comfortable in my room and I’ll be there soon. We can watch a movie or something.”

Or something you thought to yourself as you gazed over at Edwina, who was talking to Nancy and Barb.

“Sure. Don’t take too long though.”

Billy pulled out a cigarette and went to smoke as you pulled Edwina to the side. You had recently told her you had a thing for Billy and knowing she would also be at the party would give you the perfect opportunity to be alone with them.

“Billy wants to meet me in his room. Come with me?”

“Of course. He would probably love to see two girls alone in his room.”

Soon you were in Billy’s room sitting on his bed and looking around, finding some Playboy magazines and pornos. Next thing you knew you were making out with Edwina. Not sure how much time had passed, you soon heard the click of a door being opened, closed, and then locked.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

You stopped kissing Edwina and looked at Billy.

“Don’t stop on my account.”

“Just having some fun waiting for you. Want to watch us?” Edwina suggested as she held you close.

Billy sat down and tossed his leather jacket to the side.

“Hell yeah, I do.”

"You know, Billy, you don't need to look at dirty magazines and watch porno when you have us," you boldly stated earning a shit-eating smirk from Billy.

Leaving the bed you went over to kiss him crushing your lips against his and soon pulled away leaving traces of your red lipstick on his lips and mouth.

"Let me give you a quick lap dance."

You grinded on Billy as you faced him and he placed his hands firmly on your hips to keep you in place for him. Edwina watched biting her lips as you kissed Billy and grinded on his thigh. You wanted to get him worked up for you and make him hot for you.

"Nice moves there, princess," he encouraged you as you turned around and put his hands on your ass.

"Thanks, Billy," you told him as you removed your top and threw it to the side.

Edwina came over kissing you as Billy groped your ass squeezing it as you moved seductively and gyrated on his lap. She squeezed your chest playing with your breasts as you moved on Billy. The buzz of the alcohol gave you so much confidence as you gave your first-ever lapdance with Edwina and Billy watching your every move. Soon you decided you were done and you had worked him up enough and teased him to your liking.

"I love dancing for you Billy but I think it's time you watch me and Edwina have fun."

"Sounds good hotness."

Going back over to the bed you took off your shoes and lay down next to Edwina picking right up where you left off before kissing her.

"Let's get this party started," Edwina told you as she left the bed.

Soon Edwina undressed, and you did too, feeling turned on and ready to please her as you revealed your butt plug. She pushed you onto the bed kissing you with her tongue, her hand wandering to your pussy and rubbing your clit. You did the same to her pussy taking notice of her clit hood piercing. She moved to position herself so her pussy was pressing up against yours.

“Good girl. Now let me take control.”

Edwina’s words were making you even hornier as she took one of your breasts into her mouth sucking a nipple and rubbing her pussy against yours. She moved slowly at first and rubbed her pierced nipples against your breasts. Looking at Billy you noticed the tent in his pants and his manspreading as he licked his lips. Her lips latched onto your neck sucking it and leaving her mark.

"Come on baby girl I want you to cum for me. Want you to cum all over my pussy," she mewled as she put a finger near your lips. "Open for me," she commanded.

To say he got you aroused would be an understatement and even though the act itself was lustful, you were giving into your deepest and darkest desires. You eagerly obliged her to suck her finger as your pussies made wet squelching noises from the friction of the rubbing.

Billy's heart was racing as he felt his cock harden and he ached to touch himself, to give himself some release as you and Edwina made out heavily with lip biting going practically feral for each other.

"Fuck, I wanna touch myself," Billy confessed in frustration.

"Fuck your cock with your hand," Edwina sternly told him permitting him to touch himself.

Normally Billy would never go for some chick telling him what to do but he was so pent up and turned on he didn't care. He took his dick out as you and Edwina watched eagerly licking your lips. Edwina's pussy against yours was so wet and you were so hot and heavy for her as you kissed and rubbed your glistening, slick pussies together.

"Oh fuck, I'm so pent up," Billy growled, practically feral as he spits on his cock using it as lube to stroke himself.

You soon felt her slick as your pussy squelched from the sensual rubbing of your pussies together. You loved the rhythm you established with her enjoying your first time with her doing this. As you played with each other's breasts, paying careful attention to one another's nipples.

"Yeah baby girl you are so good for me," she urged as she made your nipples hard.

"I love your pussy," you enthused, getting lost in the moment and forgetting about Billy for a bit.

Edwina flipped you over slapping your ass and spreading your cheeks wide, teasing you with the butt plug taking it out then putting it back in.

"Mm, look at that ass isn't it gorgeous, Billy? Just look at that puckered hole," she teased as she spanked you and kneaded your ass.

"Fuck yeah, best ass ever," he grunted deeply.

Edwina whispered into your ear, "Let 69 baby girl."

You got into position with Edwina on top and you on the bottom. Soon she was knuckle-deep inside you and licking your clit like there was no tomorrow earning the pretty moans from your lips.

"Oh fuck yes right there," you cried as you ate her pussy too, gathering her slick with your fingers and rubbing it all over her pussy.

Billy was eagerly stroking and raising his hips as he fucked his hand, loving the show he was getting. You locked eyes with him occasionally, as you and Edwina pleased each other. This woman was all you desired and at that moment, you knew she would be a part of your life for a long time hopefully.

"Mm so tasty love that I get to eat this pussy again," she told you, her voice seductive as Billy mouthed to himself 'again'.

Spitting on her clit you rubbed it around her folds for friction loving how pink and pretty her cunt was. Billy stroked himself faster edging himself as he looked on in lust and then stopping as he listened to the cries and moans from both of your lips. Edwina's thighs shook as she buried her mouth into your pussy lips. She was sucking and finger-fucking you with the utmost precision as you tried your best to match her movements.

"I love your pussy, Edwina! Fuck!" You screamed as she fisted you.

Not even sure how much time had passed, you knew your impending climax would wash over you soon. As the wet sounds of your pussy echoed and as you felt her perfect tongue, your legs shook like jelly eager to let go. Your bodies moved in sync knowing what the other craved, fulfilling your desires, and taking out your pent-up energy on each other.

"Cum for me baby come on show me what you got!" She cheered you on as you clenched her fingers tightly and licked her pussy faster.

"Fuck gonna cum!"

Her orgasm washed over her first Billy was getting close himself. Tasting her cum eagerly you lapped it up. Moments later you felt an incredible new sensation, and it first felt like pee, but it wasn't.

"Oh fuck, she's a squirter, Billy!"

She fingered you through your high tasting your wetness and letting you squirt all over her face. Seeing the mess you made of her you smiled with glee quite impressed with yourself.

"Mmm, I can't believe I did that."

"I'm proud of you," she praised you as she held you close.

He had watched you both come undone and apart for each other with a rapt fascination that his eyes focused the entire time on you and Edwina. It was the hottest image in his mind and he would keep it in his memory spank bank forever. His hand didn't leave his cock as he watched you and Edwina 69.

"Gonna cum. Where should I put it?" Billy growled as he got up still stroking the precum of his cock he rubbed on his shaft for more friction.

"Our asses. Doesn't that sound good, baby?" Edwina asked you as she held you in post-coital bliss.

"Yes, please."

With a wicked grin on his face, Billy threw his head back and went over to you and Edwina stroking faster only needing several more good strokes before he began to cum painting your asses in his thick white cum watching eyes wide with lust as he marked your asses with his seed. After he finished, he cleaned you both up with some Kleenex.

After your encounter with Billy and Edwina, you felt so satisfied and got a ride home from Billy but you watched some fireworks first. Calling Nancy after your shower she answered on the second ring.

"It's me. You'll never guess what happened at the party and I didn't stand you up. I was with Edwina and Billy. Things got hot and heavy. I'll tell you if you wanna know more."

"Of course. Tell me everything."

"Edwina and I were a bit wasted, and he watched us. We scissored and 69'd. He also got off stroking himself," you admitted bluntly, not ashamed in the slightest.

"Wow, way to go! I'm glad you and Billy are getting along. Just glad you got home safe."

"Me too. Nance? Are we still on for our annual July sleepover with Robin and Chrissy? You know we go to the local Hawkins fair and then have the sleepover?"

"The fair, yes. That night though, no go on the sleepover. Jonathan and I already have a date celebrating our anniversary."

"I understand. I can't wait for the fair though. Us and Robin, Chrissy."

"Definitely. See you there."

The sleepover would be soon and you couldn't wait to spend alone time with your girls Robin and Chrissy. Chrissy had recently broken up with Jason and surely you would be able to cheer her up somehow, someway.

Chapter 6

Chapter 6 to-do list

I have a burning desire for you baby.

Chrissy Cunningham x Robin Buckley x fem reader

pussy eating, use of toys, use of strap-on

3.1K words

Since your time with Edwina and Billy you had prepared for your night in with the girls and sleepover you would have. Steve was at Family Video leading you eagerly to the back section to look at the X-rated videos. You found what seemed to be the perfect girl-on-girl one Edwina had suggested. You even made out with Steve in the backroom and let him motorboat you, promising he wouldn't tell anyone about your purchase.

The night of the fair you had a funnel cake, candy apple, and cotton candy as you were getting ready to ride more rides. You had already done the petting zoo and games and won a pink stuffed elephant. For the games, you did Skee Ball, weight guessing, ping pong ball, water gun, miniature rifle range, and soda toss. And for the rides, you rode a bounce house, dunk tank, carousel, merry-go-round, and Funhouse so now all you had left was the Ferris Wheel.

With Robin, Chrissy, and Nancy by your side, you were having the perfect night together. Nancy had won a purple stuffed cat, Chrissy a princess tiara, and Robin won a stuffed unicorn. Barb was on vacation with her family so she couldn't be there.

"I'll go with Chrissy on the Ferris Wheel so we'll meet up again soon," Nancy told the group as all of you made your way to the front of the line.

"Okay see you soon, Nance," Robin told her as you linked arms with Robin.

Soon on the Ferris Wheel and preparing for it to start you felt your heart racing with butterflies because Robin was holding your hand. As the ride started you giggled softly.

"Out of everyone I'm glad we are on this ride together," you told Robin.

"Me too. It's been great spending time together a day at the carnival is what I need."

"And tonight a sleepover just us and Chrissy."

As you reached the top the ride came to a halt. Looking at the stars and the full moon it was a beautiful night with the ride and surrounding fairgrounds being lit up solely by the moon.

"I like that. It's too bad Nancy can't come but it's nice she will be with Jonathan."

You boldly leaned in and kissed Robin on the lips just a peck.

"Do it again."

You eagerly obliged kissing her again but a full-on lip-lock this time. The ride started moving again and it was amazing having kissed Robin she was such a good kisser. It was a surprise she was single. It could be meant to be with her. Maybe you could even cheer up Chrissy later after her breakup with Jason.

"I loved that," Robin confessed as she put her arm around your shoulder.

"Me too Robin."

Robin had a glint in her and before you could savor the moment any longer the Ferris Wheel moved again. It went around twice more with you leaning your head against her shoulder.

After the ride on the Ferris wheel, you went on the carousel again picking a horse across from the one Robin chose with Nancy and Chrissy on the unicorns. Jonathan was now there taking pictures of you all ready to pick Nancy up so he could hang out with her that night.

"Hey, Jonathan. Guess I'll catch up with you guys later."

"Bye Nancy." You hugged her and whispered, "I'll tell you later about what happens at the sleepover."

"Bye, Nancy!" Chrissy and Robin said in unison.

"Let's go back to your place and have our sleepover," you suggested.

"Definitely," Robin replied taking your hand and holding it.

Since you had brought your car you drove them back to Robin's. After unloading your stuff from the trunk, you brought everything inside.

"I'm gonna go shower," Chrissy told you and Robin before going to the downstairs bathroom.

"I'm gonna shower too in my room. You can use the guest room bathroom," Robin suggested.

"Thanks."

Even though you didn't have a chance to shower with Robin maybe you could have some fun later. You decided to surprise the girls since you finished your shower first. In the kitchen, you prepared the cheese and fruit tray with crackers and poured some mineral water. With your snacks in the living room, you turned on the TV finding a John Hughes movie Pretty In Pink.

Robin is dressed in comfy pj's a pink tank top and matching shorts. Chrissy was wearing a heart nightgown one piece and short-sleeved. You opted though, to wear sweats with matching purple spaghetti straps.

"Nice snack you made there," Robin teased as she came into the room sitting on the couch next to you.

“Yes, food. Thanks,” Chrissy said meekly.

With you in the middle and Robin, and Chrissy on either side, you watched the movie and enjoyed the snacks. Mid-movie, you went to gather the wine bottle you had brought. Giving the bottle to Robin upon opening it you let her have a drink first. She did and passed it to Chrissy and then giggly Chrissy passed it to you. You continued to pass it around before you broke the silence.

“This movie is fine, but I brought something even better.”

“What? Show us,” Chrissy teased.

Robin nodded, eager to find out. Getting up you got the tape and put it into Robin’s lap. Looking at it she blushed bright red. Chrissy noticed soon after gasping softly.

“Never watched something like this,” Robin mused, as she passed the tape to you.

“I haven’t either but we could watch it I’m curious. Jason and I broke up so I need some sort of release.”

“How about your room, Robin?” You suggested getting up and taking another swig from the bottle.

Robin took the bottle drinking it and passed it back to Chrissy.

“Perfect. Let's go.”

As the movie started and you were laying in Robin’s queen-sized bed the movie began with two women one a nurse and another a patient before finally a female doctor came into the room. Soon everyone was undressed and the foreplay unfolded. It was hot but something told you it would be even hotter to do that for real with Chrissy and Robin.

“I have a drawer of sex toys. I never told anyone that before not even dingus. He's my best friend but he has no idea.”

You didn’t expect this confession from Robin but it was intense.

“We could make a hotter video I bet,” Chrissy said out loud.

“We should use them,” you suggested.

Everyone was tipsy now, and as the film was heating up you leaned into Chrissy kissing her. She kissed you back before she crashed her lips into Robin’s. As they made out, you explored Robin’s drawers, finding the toys in the second drawer. Taking out the pink and purple strap-on, you held it and admired it. Robin soon noticed and stopped kissing Chrissy, the porno long forgotten.

“That would be fun to use. Only with lots of foreplay first. I mean, I’ve only had sex with one girl, Vickie, but I would use it on either of you gladly.”

“I’ve never done it with a girl,” Chrissy admitted before continuing. “Have you, Y/N?”

“Yes, with Edwina twice.”

“Let's try it then I’ll use it and first I’ll get you ladies ready for me. Get undressed.”

You and Chrissy undressed each other as Robin watched, also getting naked. Robin took the rubber strap-on and put it aside. You and Chrissy watched eagerly as she stripped licking your lips. Chrissy kissed you and tasted you as you both got more comfortable on the bed and Robin got on her knees.

“Now sit side by side and let me taste you both. I’ll take turns,” Robin instructed as you got on your back next to Chrissy, who did the same.

“I want to feel your tongue first, Robs. Please!” Chrissy begged.

She went over to Chrissy feeling her juices with her fingers. She was slick and soon she noticed it was the same for you.

“Mm patience, baby girl.”

As she fingered you she ate out Chrissy giving her kitten licks first. Then as she got Chrissy worked up with sucking on her clit, she pulled away licking her lips and kissing Chrissy, letting her taste herself. Next, she took charge of eating your pretty pussy, loving how you tasted, savoring your taste on her lips as Chrissy watched. She touched your breasts and Robin looked on eagerly laving at your pussy. Spitting on it she sucked it clean and your juices as her fingers pumped inside Chrissy’s wet hot pussy walls.

Switching back to Chrissy you played with Chrissy's nipples stroking and pinching them as you kissed the prettiest sounds escaping both your mouths. Chrissy's cries grew even louder. She lifted her body off the bed as Robin made her tremble with delight. Robin teased her more by going back to you sucking your clit making your pretty whimpers grow louder. When she felt like she had gotten you wet enough, she stopped and met your lips in a kiss. Tasting your nectar from her pretty mouth you licked your lips clean.

“I think I wanna have you fuck Chrissy first with the strap and I want to have Chrissy eat me out.” She says this more as a command than a simple request.

“Maybe you can alternate it on us, too,” Chrissy suggests.

“Maybe later, but for now I want to be pleased like I deserve to be.”

Seeing Robin in dom mode was so hot. Chrissy put on the strap and Robin positioned herself on the bed, legs spread wide. She was now all yours for the taking. Chrissy used the lube on the rubber dildo strap-on and bent you over pulling you back by your hair to her liking as she lined herself up at your entrance.

“Mm, that's right fuck her as she eats me out,” Robin, orders giving you a beckoning come-to motion with her dark purple polished fingers.

“Yes, Robin. I want to very much.”

Chrissy bottomed out inside you the slick of your pussy coating the fake cock. Almost as soon as you licked Robin’s pretty clit Chrissy moved inside you starting with slow yet languid movements before her thrusts became more steady.

“Mm, how does her pussy taste?” Chrissy asked her eyes full of curiosity.

“So fucking good!” You squealed as you pumped two fingers inside of her.

Robin’s legs wrapped around your back pulling you in closer as she tilted her head back riding your face in pure ecstasy. Chrissy’s thrusts sped up then became consistent again as you tasted Robin’s sweet essence and nectar, your tongue exploring her pussy paying special attention to her clit.

“Oh, yeah, fuck! Eat me just like that!” She beckoned her pretty sounds only growing with anticipation of her eventual release.

Chrissy made cute sounds as her faux cock penetrated you squelching noises filling the room her cock worked its magic and her hand got a steady grip on your hair. Robin tasted so sweet and so divine. It wasn’t easy to explain how wonderful her essence was, but you were already becoming addicted to it.

“Doing such a good job, baby fucking her with your cock!” Robin enthuses between moans as you moaned even louder from Chrissy’s thrusts.

Robin was getting closer to her release, but she let you edge her and Chrissy fucked you harder. After minutes more of Chrissy fucking your cunt and you devouring Robin, Robin pushed you away slightly.

“Change positions. Need Chrissy to eat my sweet pussy.”

Robin was a no-nonsense woman and you knew perfectly well she meant what she said. Chrissy removed the strap helping you get it on and adjusting it for you to use. As you got closer to her, you could feel her heat. No doubt she was aching for you.

“I can't wait to taste you, Robin,” Chrissy tells her sounding delighted.

Now face down and ass up, Chrissy had her arms wrapped around Robin’s legs and moved her face closer to her slick heat. Kissing up Robin’s inner thighs Chrissy sucked and licked her thighs leaving light bite marks in her wake.

“Ready Chrissy?”

“Yes ready. Do your worst,” she dared you.

You filled her to the hilt and abruptly slammed into her aching pussy as she had her first taste of Robin, causing Rob to moan her name and get a good fistful of her hair. Chrissy lapped eagerly at her entrance as you fucked her hard and slapped her ass earning loud mewls and sexy moans from Chrissy’s lips.

“Oh, fuck so tight!” You told her sounding enthralled as you left scratch marks on her back. They were prominent and you wanted to claim her- mark your territory.

“Yeah, that's right eat my pussy! Devour it like your life depended on it!” Robin groaned holding her head down so she was suffocated by her pussy.

It was the sexiest thing seeing Robin take over like this. She knew what she desired and went for it no matter what. You were aching with a burning desire and penetrating her tight and wet pussy was the experience of a lifetime. Robin was on the precipice of cumming and Chrissy was doing the best job eating her out. It seemed like she was aching for you both and you knew she was having the time of her life tonight.

“Make me cum! Gonna coat that pretty face in my juices!”

Robin sounded like a woman about to come undone and how could she not with Chrissy feasting on her like it was the last supper? It was a good thing The Buckleys were out of town this weekend because you and the girls were being so loud with all the naughty fun and sinful things you were doing. Giving into every whim and desire sexually felt so freeing. Fucking Chrissy with the strap-on made her gasp and groan emitting the prettiest sounds to escape from her lips.

“Oh fuck yes make her cum!” You enthused pumping in and out of her kneading her ass and making Chrissy’s ass cheeks jiggle.

“Oh yes! Right there! Take all my cum, Chrissy. Be my little cum slut!” Robin screamed, sounding feral as she creamed all over the blonde’s mouth and face.

As she rode out her high, Robin tugged Chrissy’s hair harder.

“Mm tastes so good Robin. What are you gonna do to us now?” Chrissy asked hoping Robin wasn’t done with her just yet.

“Kiss her first then you’ll see.”

Chrissy eagerly kisses you and you deepen it with your tongue. Meanwhile, Robin gets up from the bed and kisses you crashing her lips against yours. You savored the kiss as she removed the strap-on. Soon she had it on and she smirked with satisfaction. Not knowing what she was up to you raised your brows curiously.

“Need to have you ladies lick this clean once I finish you both up and make you scream my name and cum. Lay down now!” She demanded as Chrissy eagerly and quickly obeyed her.

You lay next to Robin spreading your legs and wrapping your left leg around Chrissy’s right. Robin positioned herself at your entrance, soon pumping the dildo inside. It was clear she loved it judging by the smirk on her face. Chrissy licked your nipple and sucked as you emitted the prettiest noises from your lips.

“Oh yes, take this cock! I wanna see you cum all over it baby girl!”

Tilting your head back you loudly whined especially from the sensation of Chrissy’s tongue on your breast. Robin picked her pace up teasing you by slipping out the cock then pushing it right back in and pumping away again.

“Robin, I’m so close!” You whined.

It was a magnificent feeling and you couldn’t wait to come undone. You had never had this feeling or pleasure like this before from this type of stimulation from another person. Soon you could take what you had been learning and discovering about yourself from this sexual energy and share it with the first guy you lost your virginity to who would hopefully be Billy.

“Yes, cum for us!” Chrissy pleaded as she met your lips in a searing kiss.

Her kiss was filled with so much passion as you closed your eyes and let go cumming for Robin creaming the toy and collapsing in a heap on the bed as Robin pulled out of you.

“Good job. So proud of you.”

She leaned in to kiss you before moving over to Chrissy and fucking her with the cock. She took it so well crying out so pretty for Robin. It was a sight to see. You took one of Chrissy’s nipples into your mouth, then the other. Her breasts were gorgeous. So perfect.

“Yeah, take that, you little whore!” Robin spat out as Chrissy whined and she slapped her gently across her right cheek.

“Yes, mommy gonna cum!” Chrissy mewled, not being able to last much longer.

“Then cum for me!”

Chrissy came undone moments later, calling out Robins's name as Robin pulled out. Now on your knees for her, joined by Chrissy, you took her fake cock into your mouth applying suction and hollowing out your cheeks as she hit the back of your throat. She pulled out and did the same to Chrissy. The taste of your pussy juices combined with Robin’s was incredible.

“So beautiful. I had fun tonight,” Robin told you sounding intrigued as she lay in the middle of you and Chrissy strap-on now gone and the three of you holding hands.

“Me too Robin, me too,” Chrissy chimed in.

“You are both amazing,” you added.

At home days after and writing in your diary, you felt accomplished. Heather comes by your room though interrupting you.

“Can I help you?”

“What are you writing in your journal now, sis? I know everything that's happened, you know. I read your diary.”

“Shut up Heather, get out!”

“Fine, but I know Billy is your next conquest. And by the way, I know he likes you.”

She walks off leaving you alone finally. Hopefully, that was true because you wanted to lose your virginity and planned to ask Billy out on a date soon.

@eddiemunson-reader-shame @ali-r3n @seatnights @mediocredreams @quinnyficsy

@stranger-things-mania @mrprettywhenhecries @langdonss @kelseyaparker19 @skatazz

@trashmouth-richie @micheledawn1975 @leelei1980 @scarlet-bitch @thepurplelovewitch

@keikoraven @stolen-in-moonlight @lovelythoughtfulcupcake

#stranger things #billy hargrove x reader #edwina munson #edwina munson x reader #chrissy cunningham x reader #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x chrissy cunningham #stranger things fic #to do list #billy hargrove x you #chrissy cunningham x you #robin buckley x you #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #billy hargrove

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bluebirdinhissky · 2 days ago

Text

A best friend’s duty is to give you alone time when you need it (and not make a big deal out of it).

Hyunjin x reader.

MDNI. NSFW. 18+. (Not too much but mentions of being hard)

Bird note: Sorry it took me a while! I had more written but it felt off, I hope you’re enjoying this more!

[Masterlist]

Hyunjin was semi lost in thought, thinking about how time and life were playing against him and his plans. It somehow made him think it was a sign and that he should just stop right in time to avoid breaking the bond he had formed with her, maybe it was life's way of telling him they should only be best friends and nothing more, but then he thought things that are worthy don't come to you easily, right?, also, humans had free will and control of their own lives, he should be the one to decide. He then remembered he promised not to give her half love. He was going to be busy and he wouldn't be able to focus on her (that's if she ever said yes, which he doubted). His thoughts were interrupted by a sensation, one he had felt before but he always wanted more whenever it happened; she was sleeping right next to him, with her body pressed against his. She moved, friction invaded him and for a second, a moan almost escaped his mouth, but he managed to bite his lips. She opened her eyes slowly and stretched, causing more friction. When she noticed he was awake, she whispered a ‘good morning’ to which he replied with a kiss on her shoulder. She then grabbed her phone from under the pillow and started to check on messages. Unconsciously, she began to move her leg from side to side while being lost in her phone, unaware of the waves of friction that was causing on Hyunjin, who now had an erection. He was enjoying it so much but knew he couldn't keep doing it, or else he would end up finishing in his pants and moaning her name out loud.

“Stop. Moving.” he managed to utter, words trembling out of his mouth. She stopped and looked at him. His eyes were closed and he looked almost as if he was in pain. A couple of seconds later he panted in relief and opened his eyes.

“What?.” He didn’t reply, but made a bit of space between them, covered his eyes with his arm and smiled shyly, only then she realized what was going on.

“I’m only a man, I’m sorry.” He said, sound almost muffled by the blanket he now had covering his face. It was not the first time it had happened but it was the first time she had realized.

“It’s okay,” she laughed “that’s just nature. Do you want me to leave?”.

“No,” he uncovered his face “don’t go.” He was still smiling shyly.

“Don’t you need to get rid of ‘that’?”

“It will come down on its own”

“Still, it’s late. You need to get ready for work.” She cleared her throat and got up.

“Are you angry?” Hyunjin feared it might’ve been too much for her to handle him having an erection because of her, because they were only friends. He didn’t want things to be awkward after that.

“No, Hyunjin. I know that’s how male bodies work. It doesn’t mean anything”

‘It doesn’t mean anything’, her words repeated in his mind as if he was trying to give them a different meaning, one that didn’t mean she thought it all wasn’t because of her but because of physics or chemistry or biology or whatever it was that caused the body to act a certain way. No, it was not just a physical reaction, it was because of her ‘soul’, or that’s how Hyunjin liked to see it. He’s not in love with her because of her body, no, it was because of her soul.

“I’ll go and change too. I’ll be in the living room when I’m done”. She left his bedroom before he could say anything else.

#stray kids #skz #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #hyunjin stray kids #skz hyunjin #hyunjin imagine #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x y/n #bbihsp

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livingst0ned · 3 days ago

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They had all come to grow used to living in a certain way. Back at the cabin in Northern California, it was Gio and Vicente who dominated the kitchen during daytime hours — they cooked the three essential meals and then some, always laughing over ground chile and doughy masa. They cooked enough for a small army, Gio and Vicente. Every morning, and every afternoon — and Cee seldom ate with the others, but Vicente always saved her a plate. Even if it made Gio sigh or shake her head in dismissal.

They were all getting used to living in vastly different ways.

So much change — it was enough to make your hands shake, to set your back teeth on edge. It wouldn't have been so unlike her to fumble the ball completely. She kept wondering to herself: Was Claire surprised when she saw that I actually found a place? Did she half-expect me to piss the money she gave me away? Did I expect me to do that? So much change was alarming for a thing like her. Unreliable, unstable and constantly dropping the ball — but here she was, fixing French toast for unprompted guests. Francis and her never got along well. It was her own fault — standoffish as she was, and she never did well playing nice with others. She was a twat, in the not-so-distant past.

And she doesn't expect them to like her. But she won't turn them away for it. What would the reason be behind that? Vicente was dead. And her thoughts are hinged on Claire — standing beneath the spray of shower water, or maybe sitting with her knees drawn to her chest at the foot of the tub. Her mind is crowded, anxious with thoughts of running water — long black hair, her lover's distant gaze. Preoccupied. That would have been an understatement. Maybe because she's thinking about Claire all the while. And her hands are still shaking. And her stomach is growing teeth. And she just keeps making French toast even though Vicente used to cook breakfast.

Cee fishes a couple dishes from the drying rack for Francis, and Alo. It's a set — grey geese delicately drawn along the edges, thorny vine and iris. She listens to Francis with those same vines knotted around her chest.

❛ — I normally wouldn't, either. But —... worries me, thinkin' about not making something right now... ❛ Cee mumbles, melting stick of butter in hand — deft fingers working a butter knife, cutting a square. It sizzles on the pan. She wasn't entirely sure if her words would make sense to Francis. Broad hand grips at the pan's handle, shaking teflon-coated cookware until the melting butter spreads. She works hastily. Twin slices of bread are dipped in egg wash until dripping, splat — on the pan.

Alo's haughty gaze is disturbed by the Highmore's inquisition. He's as quiet as a goddamn pantomine, not looking anywhere but out the window. His boyish face betrays some immediate confusion. But he does take the joint, dumbly. It's drawn to his lips and the short drag makes him cough hard in his chest.

He shakily hands the joint back to Francis, ears burning.

Cee cocks her head at the sound, looking over her shoulder to get a good look at something strange: Alo smoking weed. He doesn't seem the type. What would Kerry say to that, she wonders. She squints, apprehensive for a moment — though she's quick to shrug it off. He was evidently going through some kind of crisis. Two plates are procured, set in front of Alo and Francis — French toast glistening with syrup, melting whipped cream.

❛ A job, though? Maybe. I dunno. It's difficult when you don't feel drawn to any one thing, y'know? ❛ She rubs her hands together anxiously, pale eyes darting toward the joint in Francis's possession. She thinks to ask. But then she thinks she hears the shower turn off and swivels her head at once, listening close.

Alo's rubbing at his flushing face. She hears the sound of the shower, and sighs.

❛ ... Not to mention I haven't really been looking these past few days. ❛ And she wasn't rightly sure when she would start up again. Her eyes flash toward Francis, anxious.

❛ — Have you ... have you heard from Gio, by chance? ❛

Francis regards the joint with a fleeting smirk, as though the gesture from Cee were as surprising as it was expected. They take it, pinching it between their fingers with care, a sliver of faint approval in their movements. No words pass as they ignite the end—not with the lighter, but with a quick amiable flicker of undefined magic. It was always a trick of theirs. Probably one of the first one's they learned when they were a child. The ember catches, glowing steadily as they inhale deeply, the faint curl of smoke slipping through the still air.

They exhale slowly, gaze falling to the small quaint ashtray they pull toward themselves, fingers tapping once on the edge of the table before setting the joint down for a moment.

“Thank you” Francis murmurs, their voice soft, words more for the room than anyone in particular. The faintest ghost of a smirk lingers on their lips before they lean back slightly, elbows resting on the chair’s worn arms. They never got along. And now, with how things were, they were still trying to figure out how to be a person. It occurs to them with very little trouble at all, that Cee was doing the same. Just trying to navigate being a person. They watch Cee with something resembling quiet curiosity as she busies herself at the stove, her movements almost mechanical, as though to distract from everything unspoken simmering beneath the surface.

“Can’t say I’ve thought much about cooking lately,” Francis continues, their tone measured, masking the undertone of weariness that clings to every syllable. “I was so used to things when we were all in one place together. And now all Abra and I do is order room service. And it's been nothing short of a waste of money.”

They flick their gaze to Alo briefly, his silence unnerving but at least familiar, before focusing again on Cee. “I'm happy this place is working for you.”

Their fingers drift back to the joint, lifting it for another slow drag. “Have you considered working in a kitchen?” There’s a pause, almost as if they’re weighing whether to continue speaking on job prospects. They knew conversations like that could be awkward. They turn to look at Alo. He didn't really smoke cannabis. They remembered that. But they offer the joint anyway. “It might help.” They offer quietly, nearly drowned out by the sound of sizzling butter.

#likeorpheus #livingst0ned. private verse.

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s0fter-sin · 4 months ago

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ghost stares at the ceiling, chest heaving in a harsh pant; sweat ice on his clammy flesh and soaked into the sheet he restlessly kicks away.

ears still ringing, his fingertips blindly drift down to trail along his vivisection scar. he half-expects blood to smear in their wake. his own line of solomon, who ordered him split in twain; half of him given to a grieving mother and half left with the grieving to be.

just for both his broken halves to be rejected.

what did it make him that his mother grieved him more than she loved him? that she begged to be relieved of him more adamantly than she begged to receive him? why did his worth spill out with his drawn blood? why was his pain lesser than hers?

his hand flexes, digging into the raised scar like it’ll part beneath his fingertips to plunge into his mangled insides. no one knows the cruelty of reforming the halved; his name, his being, not nearly as important as his body when he was stripped from himself. no one knows the pain of healing and understanding losing pieces of yourself means losing your value along with them.

how many more pieces did he have to lose before he was halved once more? before his very presence incurred grief so strong it was better to be rid of him than cradle his bloodied remains?

did the infant fight himself? did he age always at odds with himself; his halves never truly whole? he hopes he wasn’t, that he was spared the loss of self; the fear that one may be welcomed over the other.

who will he lose when the inevitable comes? when he’s ripped apart again? simon? or ghost? is it better to be cursed with choice just like his mother or live with an aftermath chosen for him? does it matter if in the end, he convinces himself there was nothing of him left to lose?

his head lolls to the side and the wild buck of his chest slows. he watches johnny beside him, his face lax with the rare peace of sleep; his cheek squished against the pillow, his lips pursed as long breaths escape him.

johnny. soap. never torn asunder but two all the same.

he carefully reaches out and ghosts his fingers along the jagged scar on his chin. even in sleep, he presses into his bloodied touch. he’s never fled his half-flesh, never shies away from his gore as it spills unbidden from his cleaved torso. he holds on where his mother let him go; cups his stomach to hold his insides in place and never minds the blood that drips through his fingers.

simon will never let him become his own solomon and cannibalise himself. he will never let him question which half of him has more value; which pieces he can afford to lose before he’s cast aside.

ghost’s soap. simon’s johnny. his.

whole, in any incarnation.

#yall know the story of king solomon?#and the two mothers who claim a baby is theirs so he orders the baby cut in half so they can each have half of him?#well guess what woke me up out of a dead sleep and demanded to be written?#anyway roba showing simon clips of his mum on the news begging for the safe return of her boy #for the government to do something; /anything/ please she just wants her son back #just for ghost to dig himself out of simon's coffin and she can't bear to look at the man he's become #he's cold and afraid and hesitant and angry and in pain and so different from her little boy that it's just too difficult for her #he's a living breathing reminder that her simon didn't come back from the desert #and ghost has to live with the knowledge that his mum couldn't love him through anything #that maybe if he got himself out sooner if he was stronger or smarter or a better soldier... if he hadn't let simon die...#maybe he wouldn't have changed so much that she wouldn't look him in the eye and see a stranger #if you know anything about me by now you know i love the separation of the self and the person they become around others or bc of trauma #whether thats hizashi and present mic or simon and ghost its one of my absolute favourite tropes #and simon knowing hes become someone else and going home expecting to still be loved anyway?#just for this new version of himself to be rejected?#thats the moment he fractures into ghost #coming out of my cage and ive been doing just fine.txt #we’re a team. ghost team #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #john soap mactavish #soap cod #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghoap #ghost call of duty #cod mw2 #cod mwii #save post

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dcxdpdabbles · 1 month ago

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DCxDP idea: To Be Human Again

Danny had not been human for a long time. His home dimension had long since fallen. He lost his friends and family to old age, watched their descendants rise and fall in the same way, and witnessed his Earth come to an end.

When the cosmos erupted and took the solar system he knew and loved, Danny was oddly at peace with the end. He was no longer a Halfa but a full Spirit of the Stars. Solar flares ran through his veins rather than blood, stardust decorated his skin in gently kissed freckles, and his eyes held the swirling clouds of the cosmos.

Danny had not become a ghost. He had transformed into an Ancient, commanding the prophecies, fates, and endless opportunities that all living beings could experience in their lifetimes.

He flouted through his domain, witnessing battles between Lords of Choas and Order. Planets gain life and break apart. Endless time stretching from the graveities he weaves to flouting stones.

As time passes, his name begins to fade into legends and myths, and even the ghosts that once battled with him forget their time together. They, too, can age at a much slower rate, but change comes for them. He is present for Box Lunch's birth, but when he leaves to create light in the darkness, he misses her growing up. When he returns, Box Lunch does not know him, trembling in place as she bows low like her parents.

He stares at her, wondering what he found wrong with her, until he realizes she is a young adult. Were it not for his once evil timeline, he wouldn't have known her child form. He had missed it.

His gaze falls onto the much older pair of ghosts who call him by his new title. Neither Box Ghost nor Lunch Lady show any signs of remembering his name. They greet him with his title, and act as if though that is his identifier.

How many eons had it been since he last heard someone call him Phantom? Or even Danny?

"Lord Star Weaver?" Box Lunch stammers when the giant being only continues to stare. "Is something the matter?"

"Hmm," he considers her question, wondering if his realizations upset him. It's not that he was lonely or that he missed the sound of his name. But he has spent eons in a haze focusing on his work, and now it's almost as if he was waking from a dream.

Dreams....what did those feel like again?

"Tell me, Box Lunch, are there any portals to any living Earths?" His voice booms over the Realms, echoing as if they were a part of him. Maybe they were.

Danny had not sat on his throne since his elder sister breathed her last, but he still remembered the way the Infinite Realms changed on his whims. It's where he learned to weave stars. The young woman's ghost looked startled before she gestured vaguely to a path behind her.

"Yes, sir. I regularly use the anchored portal to visit the local Earth. It's where my father was born before his death."

Danny looks down at Box Ghost before leaning toward Box Lunch's height. She is no bigger than his pupils, and she seems frozen in terror as his eyes glow with hunger. "Show me," he says.

Her parents make strangling noises, but they wouldn't dare speak against the King and Ancient of creation. They send their daughter worried tight smiles but encourage her to lead the Star Waver to the portal.

She flights for a solid hour, his large form sending every ghost into hiding as he passes. Despite not having a living heart, he knows that it beats a mile a minute within her chest as her glow flickers in uncertainty.

They arrive at the portal, a swirling green pool resting in the open mouth of a mechanical jester. Danny thinks it looks like the building of an amusement park. He remember going to one once with Sam. This had been the Funhouse, filled to the brim with trick mirrors.

The memory causes him to smile.

Lunch Box nervously moves her hands one after another, bowing at the waist and stepping to the side so Danny can consider the portal. He is much larger than the building and doubts his foot would fit inside the portal.

He should change his form.

"Here it is, Lord Star Weaver, the portal to the human-AGHHHH!" Box Lunch's words fade into a scream as two bright rings of light form around the Ancient. Fearing she had offended the being and he was planning on retaliating, she flings herself to the ground before the portal, begging for her existence.

"I will do anything!" She cries, head pressing against the glowing green stone underneath her. "Mercy, please, Lord Star Weaver."

"Anything? Then you shall be my guide in the new Earth, " a human voice says. Shocked, she raises her head only to see that the Ancient has vanished and that a human teenager with soft fluffy hair, big baby blue eyes, and the most innocent demeanor is staring back at her.

Were it not for the soul she could feel carefully folded up inside him, she would have thought him a human who stumbled through the portal.

"My....Lord?" she dares to ask, and she's rewarded with a soft smile. Honestly, the human body the Star Weaver has chosen is an odd one. It looks like a strong gust of wind could knock him over.

"Yes. Where does this portal lead?"

"Gotham," She shutters out, "The city within the United States of Earth. This portal is in te middle of a human outlaw named Joker, but humans there aren't able to see us very well so he never bothers me."

"Gotham" Danny rolls the name on his human tongue, tasting it as the sound vibrates through his bones and his heart. It's been so long since he last felt this alive, and if that was what the name could do, who knows what the city could bring him. "What a wonderful place to get lost in, don't you agree, big sister?"

"Um...I beg your pardon?" Lunch Box blinks, but he shifts her fate with a snap of his fingers. Since she had never been alive, having been a Realms born, Danny has control of her guiding star. He moved it for one that belonged to a version of herself born in the human world.

Lunch Box's body shifts into flesh and blood. Her draw drops as she stares at her human hands. Danny grins. "I'm Danny Fenotn, moving to Gotham with my older sister. Adopted, of course. Who might you be?"

She looks at him with horror and heartbreak, but what leaves her mouth is only three words: "I'm Della Fenton."

"Della." He repeats the name, nodding his head and smiling. "It's lovely."

"It was my mother's Earth name before her death, " she says in a daze, and Danny smiles, striding into the portal without a second glance.

"Come on, Della, I want to see our new home."

He steps into the portal, while she can only look out over the Realms that no longer whisper and speak to her. How could it? She was no longer a ghost. She silently apologizes to her parents, who would likely be waiting at their haunt for her, and turns away from the only home she's ever known.

She can not afford to anger the Star Weaver. If he can breathe life into her with a mere snap of her fingers, she fears what he can do to take it away.

On the other side of the portal Della finds that her King has been caught by humans, who have tied him up to a chair and a snickering clown waved a knife in his face.

His gentle smile did not leave his face even as the Joker sliced two thin lines on his cheek.

"Della" Danny calls never taking his eyes off the clown. "Is this the outlaw you spoke of?"

Human goons swarm her. She is shocked to find that they can touch her as she is thrown on the ground, only to remember she is now human. The dull ache in her chin is her new reality.

"Yes. That's the Joker," She says after getting her wits about her. One of the goons presses the heel of his foot on top of her head, slamming her back to the ground and breaking her nose. A scatter of snickers echoes through the room as Joker loudly cackles.

"That's right, little boy. I'm the Joker, and this is my Fun House. What were you two doing sneaking about here uninvited?"

There are teeth in the Star Weaver's answer, and she shivers in place, wondering how she will survive him. "Oh, I just felt like star gazing. Say, did you know your guiding star is becoming dim?"

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #To be Human Again #A immortal Danny has forgotten his humanity #Lunch Box Danny Phantom #He's on vacation #He wants to see what has changed #Joker picked a very bad person to bother #Not even Clockwork messes with him #Morally Grey Danny Phantom

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leclarifies · 2 months ago

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letters (MV33)

꒰ max verstappen x childhoodbestfriend! reader ꒱

synopsis┊it was confusing, even though you were continents apart, you never understood why max never responded to your letters, until you attend the belgium gp to finally get the answers you were looking for. inspired by the prompt, "why did you never reply to my letters?" "you wrote me letters?"

genre┊ fluffy, the fluffiest fluff i've ever fluffed.

word count┊ 4.4k

aria yaps┊ i have worked on this non-stop for two days, and i loved the way it turned out, maybe one of my favorite works. enjoy reading this as much as i enjoy writing this!!

SECOND PART

she was always around max, either from the sidelines or the first person max ran to when he won a race, it was always her. not even his father, even though he held his father to the highest regard, but it was always her.

the little wrinkles on the edge of her eyes when she smiled at him, the way her lips would curl up, or the way she would giggle every. single. time. that he would come and hug her after every race finish. he remembers it all. and the way he would snuggle his face in the crook of her neck and asked her softly after he would win a race, 'did you see me win, schatje?'

she would always smile back with a laugh, 'of course i did maxie.'

it was always about max, her life revolved around him, whether he liked it or not. she adored him and maybe he adored her a little bit more. they were childhood friends, they were inseparable since they were little babies, their mothers being friends made it even harder for the both of them to not be attached at the hip.

she loved being in his presence and he loved her.

the divorce between jos and sophie was hard on max, he blamed himself and his career but she was always there to tell him that it's not his fault. that their decision was their own and she never forgot to tell max that it wasn't his fault, no matter how much they told him that it was.

she saw the way jos had pushed max to his limits, get physical with his own son and his way of escaping that life was run to her arms, she was there tending to every bruise, every wound whether physical or emotional. she was his rock and it was final. nothing anyone could ever say or do would change his name.

"schatje," max had gently woken her up from her slumber, and she stirred awake from his soft voice, she noticed where she was and finally remembered what happened.

max had finished lower than expected and jos had thrown hurtful things about max, she was there on his mother's couch, comforting him and had fallen asleep that way, with max on her lap, "are you sleepy?"

she shook her head, not wanting to admit that yes, indeed she was sleepy, but if max needed comfort then that wasn't a big deal to her, "what's wrong maxie?"

"nothing, you can sleep on my bed if you're tired. i can sleep here," max had brushed a stray strand of her hair behind her ear but she refused, she hated taking his bed because she knew how uncomfortable the couch was, she wanted him to sleep well.

but he wouldn't allow her to take the couch, so they both slept on sophie's couch almost cuddled with eachother because they were both stubborn.

max was necessarily content with how he was living his life right now, but she made it better and that's all he could ask for. was it her smile? maybe her presence? max didn't care. the first memory he could remember from his early childhood was her, and it was etched into his memory like stone.

she was content with being max's rock, she was there to keep him grounded and she too only had memories of him from her early childhood. she wouldn't replace him for the world, he was too precious for anything in this earthly world.

but there was one day, it felt like a bomb dropped on her. her father had told her that he would have to move to korea to continue work, and she didn't know how to break the news to max until a few days before she had to leave.

she knew it was wrong to keep something this big away from max, but she was so stricken with anxiety that she never got the chance to until max came over to her house and saw all the packed boxes with their belongings.

"why didn't you tell me sooner?" max was angry, she could tell, by the way he was pacing around her room, looking at the packed boxes around. max thought he meant more to her than just a measly friend, he felt frustrated— betrayed almost. why wouldn't she tell him? why would she keep something as big as this away from him?

"why didn't you say something before? why now? why before you could see me race this weekend?" max was raising his voice now, and she didn't know what to do. her eyes turned glassy and those doe eyes max loved so much just looked so sad.

she stayed quiet, a guilty look on her face. she knew max would break from the news, and she knew that it would affect his performance, but she didn't know how to stay, how to convince her father that she didn't want to go, so yet again, she stayed silent in important moments of her life.

"schatje, can you say something? say anything?!" max yelled and she flinches, she didn't know what to say or what to do, she wanted to say something, say anything. but nothing would come to her lips. it was so hard for her when he was angry like this, it reminded her of his father and his father was deathly scary when angry.

a sigh escapes max's lips when he sees her flinch, coming close to her to wrap her in a hug. tears escaped from her eyes as she held onto max tight, "i didn't know how to tell you," she whispers into max's ear but max didn't say anything to that, just held her even tighter and he did not want to let go.

"it's okay schatje, i'm not mad at you. i could never get mad at you, i'm sorry for raising my voice. i just don't want you to go," tears started to escape max's eyes too, he didn't want to see her go. he wanted her to stay, and she did too. but the universe was pulling them apart and there was nothing either of them could do about it.

the ride to the airport was tough, being only fifteen and sixteen respectively. max held her hand the entire time, not wanting to let go, he didn't want her to leave, she was his biggest support system and he couldn't imagine her gone like that.

she was the most scared of the two of them, what if her father never returned to belgium? what if she was stuck there in korea forever? what if she never got to see his pretty blue eyes anymore?

max was the one to ground her, no longer lost in her thoughts, "can you promise me we'll keep in touch? or maybe visit from time to time?" max was holding onto her hands tightly, she felt like they would bruise, she could only smile and nod.

her mother had called her over, it was time to go. she looked at max for what it felt like the last time and left her life in belgium.

dear schatje,

hi, this is the first week that you're gone and it's bene been so hard without you here with me. i forgot that you weren't here anymore and i was expecting to see your face, but when i didn't, i may or may not have almost cried.

i miss you so much. tell me how it is in korea, is it cold? do they have bears there? what about the food? is it good? can you eat it? i heard there's a lot of spiy spicy food there? honestly i don't care about what they have there, i just care about you.

when can you visit again? can you tell me if you're ever coming back? i'm so worried about you there, i miss you... so much schatje.

written with a lot of love, your maxie.

max always handed off his letters to his father, telling his father to hand it off to his mother because apparently they kept in contact and wanted to send it off to the post office on behalf of him.

he just wondered how she was doing there.

it's been months and countless of letters max had sent, and none of them replied. he was starting to lose hope, he didn't want to think that his best friend would forget about him so easily like that, but he held out hope. he knew that she wouldn't magically forget about him now that she was there.

jealousy bubbled within him when he realized that she would be meeting new people, what if she met someone like him? who enjoyed karting and wanted to steal her attention?

no, he couldn't be thinking like that. he loved her and he knew she loved him as much as he did, so he told himself to just be patient, maybe letters to korea took months to reach?

the naviety was almost laughable but he was fine with it. he just wanted to hear back from his pretty girl.

"i do not understand why you keep writing letters to that stupid girl, she doesn't reply to you and all it does is distract you," jos had reprimanded his son, but max was stubborn. he didn't care what his father had to say, he loved all of her, even when she was thousands of kilometers away. he wanted to talk, even when she never replied.

max was in the process of writing another letter, but he never listened to his father, not about her. not about how much of a distraction she's been to his career, he didn't care. he used it as motivation to get better on the track, so the next time she saw him, he would be a world champion, that's what he silently promised to her.

it had been two years, and he hadn't heard a peep back. slowly, he was starting to lose hope but he couldn't lose hope, every single time he would send off the letters, he told himself that maybe it got lost in the mail.

max kept writing though.

max's debut in f1 was explosive to say the least, his interviews would absolutely go viral by the things he was saying in them. he didn't understand why, he just said what was on his mind.

what was truly on his mind was her.

was he not good enough for her? was him being in f1 not enough to impress her? why wouldn't she write back?

oh god how he missed her.

he still wrote to her weekly, it was religious at this point. he never forgot and he always told his father to send them off to his mother and the week after that was always disappointment because he wouldn't hear anything back.

little did he know, she never received those letters.

max had slowly stopped writing letters as he got into f1, he didn't see a point in it anymore. she never replied. she didn't care. letters didn't take years to reach korea, and he finally lost hope.

winning his first championship felt empty, the pretty girl who used to be waiting for him wasn't there for him anymore. of course, he was happy to win such an impressive feat, who wouldn't? but it just... lacked her.

max indeed lost hope that she would ever write back, but never lost hope that she was out there, somewhere, watching him race every single week and beat the shit out of his rivals. she loved watching him race and that's what he intended to do until the day he died, he wanted to impress her, maybe that was his ulterior motive to becoming a formula one driver.

all just to impress his best friend who had lost contact with him for a decade now.

"you need to stop figdeting so much," her mother had scolded her, she could only laugh nervously and stop fidgeting around. she wondered why max never wrote back to her, she had written him letters. did he hate her for moving out to korea and not coming to visit belgium?

she shook the thoughts out of her head, she was here now. for his home race, and for the rest of her life. her father had now decided to move back to belgium, because and i quote, 'i don't want my daughter to lose touch with her culture'.

she was 26 now, and she had guessed that he turned 27 not too long ago. it's been so long since she talked to him and she hoped that the spark that she had been yearning for had not been lost to the passages of time.

getting the paddock passes was not easy, it was a war and a half but she managed to snag some for herself and a friend that wanted to visit belgium and would arrive later on in the week.

"how did you even manage to get paddock passes for us?" heejin, her friend that wanted to visit had asked, she could only laugh and explain how she got them, it was a war and a half. heejin laughed along with her as they both arrived and scanned their passes at the entrance.

"i'm gonna meet my best friend here— well it's complicated. i don't think he considers me a best friend anymore, but i still do," she had softly told heejin who was a big formula one fan even before meeting her, heejin raised her eyebrow when she said that.

the both of them were walking down the paddock, passing all of the different team's hospitalities. heejin raised her eyebrow at her friend, who shrugged.

"who's your best friend?" heejin had asked as they pass by the red bull hospitality, she stopped which signalled heejin to stop as well, she looked at the redbull in awe. she hadn't been to a formula one race yet, the closest she'd been was to karting but that didn't bring on the feelings she felt when standing in front of this red bull building.

"well, he's driving the number one car."

"YOUR BEST FRIEND IS MAX VERSTAPPEN?!"

max had heard a girl yell, he slowly turned his head. he was confused, he didn't have a best friend— well not anymore. she had moved to korea, all memories of her stuck in his head being replayed all over and over again.

that's all he had left of her.

the other girl shushed the girl who yelled, and that's when it dawned on max. the other girl looked awfully familiar, he couldn't quite place why she looked so familiar but she looked like her, like his best friend.

"shh! you can't just yell that out in public," she clamped a hand on her friend's mouth, "they're gonna think i'm insane!" then the both of them giggled, it did sound ridiculous but now he was curious.

was she back? was that her? who was she with? is that her new best friend? is that her?

as they both walked away, max wanted to run up to them, to ask that one particular girl what her name was. what she was doing here and who she was with but all of that died when he got approached by his race engineer.

then he forgot all about that familiar girl that he saw in front of the red bull hospitality.

max would only get another glimpse of her when it was race day, they were walking through the paddock in a similar fashion, but max promised to himself that he would approach them, that he would ask but there was doubt in his heart.

what if she forgot about him?

she couldn't, right?

and so approach them he did, tapping the girl that he felt was so familiar to on the shoulder, she had turned around and they had locked eyes.

it was as if she never left.

the sparks, they all came rushing back and then his heart started beating out of his chest, he wanted to ask so many questions, why she was here, who she was with, when she came back— why she came back, why she never wrote him back.

but the only thing that left his lips were a simple, "hi."

heejin was freaking out, she could tell. she knew that heejin was a big red bull fan too, always talking about how the team was dominating and they had the better car. she had heard all about it. but the little dutchboy she left all those years ago was standing in front of her and not-so little anymore and all those thoughts about her girlfriend was forgotten.

he looked the same, but grown and decked out in red bull merch. she wanted to laugh at how innocent he looked when he tapped her on the shoulder to get her to turn around, he looked stupid, stupidly cute.

all of those feelings from when she was back in belgium came back, she almost forgot what it felt like to be around max— her max. he looked like he was going to cry when he got a good look at her, that he finally realized that yes, it's her. the one that left him in belgium all those years ago.

and maybe she could cry too.

"maxie?" a familiar nickname slipped from her lips and she didn't get a response back, but a bear hug in return.

god, her scent. it was everything to him. he fucking missed it— miss her.

"i thought... i thought you forgot about me," max buried his face into the crook of her neck, she too wrapped her arms around max and buried her face into his chest. his voice was so vulnerable, all she wanted to do was curl around him and tell him that she would never.

she shook her head as she sank into the hug, "i could never forget my maxie," she mumbled into his chest, he held onto her tighter. he never wanted to let go, not now, not ever. she was where she was finally supposed to be, right in his arms.

once they got time alone after his race, max had stolen her away from her friend and dragged her into his driver's room, locking the door and pushing her against the wall, slamming his lips onto hers. he had been dreaming about this for so long, his lips on hers.

he didn't want to so sexual with her, no not yet. being in the small driver's room where they couldn't be free out of the public eye wasn't a good place. he just wanted to touch her, hold her, love her, make sure that she knew how much he had missed this.

missed them being together.

her hands instinctively went up to hold onto his shoulders, holding on for dear life as he kissed her softly. the feelings going through him were a mix of nostalgia, longing and love. he loved her for so long and it was so like her to show up when it mattered the most.

he won it for her today, to show her, that the little max she knew still had it in him to win and to impress her even with a world championship under his belt.

she felt the softness and the gentleness that max was touching her with, she knew how much he loved her. how much he care, how much he longed for her touch and she did too, only so much more.

she had so many questions in her, on why he never replied to the letters she sent or why he never sent any himself, not knowing what happened with her letters and why they never arrived properly.

but she didn't care at the moment, all she cared about was that she was safely in his arms, never to be let go ever again.

safe to say, her lips were to the point of bruising that night. max had forbade her to go back home, or to be away from his sight. he had kissed her silly, not wanting to let her go and there she was, settled nicely in his arms.

it's not like she wanted to go anywhere anyway.

the movie in the background was long forgotten, max's lips felt like they were molded for hers. he had waited for her for so long, waited to feel her skin after so long and this just felt right, it felt right when he was with her.

"maxie— mmhh— my love, stop," she had to talk in between kisses, max didn't want to let her go, his fingers were basically imprinted onto her waist. she was straddling max as he sat upright and kissed her, so softly. like she would break if he was any harder, even though he absolutely did want to kiss her harder.

max released her from the kiss with a pout, his pretty lips were red and swollen from all the kissing they did. everything in the world just seemed to fade into the background when they were together, like everyone else in this world was so insignificant for their time and they were the only people worthy of each other's time.

"but why? i wanna kiss you, i miss you. i have waited for you for ten years, the least you can do is let me kiss you until you're sick of me," max mumbled against her lips and all she could do was giggle.

god, her laugh, he loved it.

she shook her head and left a final peck on his lips, "because i want to talk maxie, we can't just kiss whatever questions we have for eachother away," she told him but he seemed to think otherwise, she had moved back to put a bit of distance in between them, to make sure max didn't go in to kiss her again.

"oh yes we can, i don't care about the questions, schatje. i just wanna be with you, just like old days, but now it's so different because in those ten years without you, i finally realized what i felt and how i felt for you and i can't wait any damn longer to finally kiss those pretty lips of yours, so please. just let me do this for another three hours and we can talk," max begged as he pulled her closer.

she couldn't imagine kissing for another three hours as they spent the last hour doing it, but with him? she would do it for another life-time if she could.

the both of them later had the serious talk when they were done kissing each other, now wanting answers from eachother. their legs were tangled and intertwined with each other's, not wanting to let go from their skin to skin contact.

"first off, why did you never reply to my letters? i wrote you so many. so many that i lost count, i would always write to you but you never replied, why?" max's voice came out strained, all of the painful feelings from the last ten years of his life were coming out, her doe eyes looked up from where she was, laying against his chest.

"you wrote me letters? i wrote you letters, you never replied. i thought you got too busy with your karting career to reply—"

"i could never get too busy to reply to you, but i never got any of your letters, schatje," max murmured against her forehead, kissing it gently after he spoke. she hummed a response before it dawned on her, she had always sent the letters to his father's address and she knew that his father wasn't fond of her, even offering her a huge lump sum of cash just for her to stay away from his son but she never accepted it, always choosing to be beside max, no matter what happened.

she looked up and sighed, she knew what happened now, she connected the pieces, "did you send your letters off to your dad?" she asked, and max nodded before it dawned on him too.

"that fucker hid the letters from you and never sent mine..."

she could only nod sadly, but it didn't matter now. all that mattered was that they were reconnected now.

scattered around them were the countless of letters max had written to her and all of the letters from her that he never received, the years of pining, longing— all of them tucked neatly away into these little envelopes that held all of those unsaid feelings.

a soft sigh escapes her lips, she looked at all of them, there were hundreds maybe. all of them posted to where she stayed in korea but never sent, always kept in a big box where all of his letters were and hers were stuffed in there in a similar fashion.

her heart clenched when she saw how many there were, there were far more many than whatever she sent, even though she did send quite a big sum.

when max had found out, he stormed into jos' house and demanded to ask why he never sent out the letters that he wrote and a big fight broke out, she had to hold of max from physically harming his own father. then they left after given the big box filled with letters.

"there's so many..." she watched in awe as all of them were sorted by date, from the latest to the earliest, max looked up at her with those big blue icy eyes of his, he looked really sad. stuck in his feelings almost, not understand why his father would do whatever he did in the past.

max held her hand gently, pulling her into his embrace, "i have always loved you, even when i was a little kid. i just didn't understand what those feelings were, i just acted on how i felt and being away from you... i just couldn't. so i sent you my love in the form of these letters."

she left a lingering kiss on his cheek, she felt sorry for having to leave all those years ago. she should've fought, should've stood her ground on how much she wanted to stay but she was just a 16 year old kid who didn't know how to, "i know. i'm sorry i had to leave all those years ago."

"don't apologize, schatje. i have never blamed you for leaving me. i have always held love for you in my heart, even if you didn't know it."

"i always knew max, and i still do."

very willing to do a part 2 to this btw, will only do it when requested tho. not proofread, excuse grammar mistakes.

#leclarifies fics #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fic #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x yn #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #max verstappen oneshot #f1 fanfic #f1 fic

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stxrfclls · 2 days ago

Text

he shakes his head, love wasn't something he entirely understood. it wasn't really something he chose. cedrian had agreed to her terms easily, thinking that they could simply use one another and feelings would remain out of it. love felt otherwise. " that's not entirely true. " he says easily. he may understand that he loves alina, and all the reasons why, but that didn't mean he was som master of the language. love was part of the fates, out of his hands. her next words settle into his chest, and he can feel a warmth begin to grow alongside a sadness. she doesn't see herself how he did, but maybe he could help her to some day. she deserved so much, it nearly shattered his heart to hear her think otherwise. her admission of longing to be loved, to feel what it was like hits him with a force that makes his breath hitch. alina may not have been raised with love and affection, but she had the capacity to feel it on such a level it almost confused him. she tried to hide her heart beneath layers of steel and logic. he still saw it. " oh, i still have quite a lot for you, alina. " he promises, not overwhelming her by continuing on right now. as their gazes meet once more, he feels his own vulnerability simmer. she saw him with those honey eyes, even when he'd tried not to let a soul do so. " you truly don't see what you've done to me, do you ? " she brought a light to him that had been extinguished. he'd mostly recovered from the loss of his late wife, but a piece of him had been deadened and alina revived it. she restarted his heart. a dry chuckle, but he doesn't argue. he'll show her otherwise.

he loved looking at her, the beauty of her face held nothing to the parts of her inside those eyes of hers. she was a creature of everlasting perfection to him, even with broken and sharp edges. the vision he had of her may not be what most thought of as perfection, he wanted her with her flaws as well. " i didn't think i deserved to love again, you changed that. " he smirks, watching her, feeling each thought flutter behind her eyes. this wasn't meant to be a moment in front of anyone, privacy everything between them. as their gazes hold, he forgets they aren't alone at all. and he may have known he had her, but hearing it only continues to warm his soul. they do belong to one another, as much as they can as they rule their courts. cedrian shakes his head, alina may very well be a storm, but he wanted every part of her, even those. " and i can withstand any storm. " he says softly. he was strong, though he didn't think she thought him weak. she was just more used to protecting everyone in her life – now that included him. cedrian did the same thing, it was difficult to break from the pattern. his heart clenches when she talks of ellena, a bittersweet ache in his chest. she tals of his late wife so kindly he doesn't know how he managed to deserve it. " losing her was the darkest time i've ever faced. " he confirms. " but that pain has mostly been soothed. " he still struggled to see his children, to know that they wouldn't have memories of their mother as they deserved. he might tell alina about it someday, but for now he just wished she could meet them. " i have nothing poor to say of you, love. " he says easily, only offering her a chuckle in answer to her question. he just had a way with words.

his hands continue to hold her, but one drifts up, brushes her hair back and cups the side of her face. he doesn't want her eyes drifting from his own, they tell him far more than her lips ever do. his eyes drift closed when her face touches his own, breaking the contact he loves only to relish in one better. their skin touching always sets a fire in his soul, a yearning for her to offer more. he shrugs lightly, " you've done as you've needed to. " he says with ease. he refuses to believe otherwise. " no, because i know there is more to it than you seem to think in your actions. " he very well could be a harsh high lord when a punishment was needed, ced just didn't often have to show that side of himself. he blinks, the quiet certainty in her words astonishing him. his grip on her tightens, as if the action could wash away her fears. " i think that should be said as how ever long you wish to have me. " corrects the day lord. he never wished to see a moment he could lose her, it would shatter him entirely. cedrian pulls back, only enough to look into her eyes. " i didn't think you'd let yourself. " admits he in a light voice. but gods, he was so thankful she did. it didn't make things easier, but it certainly made his heart swell. " come to bed with me. " he whispers, as if they are still but a secret. in truth, all he wants in this moment is to be alone with her.

she wasn't entirely unassuming of what was transpiring between all this time, only it was simply easy to ignore when she could list endless excuses and reasons to entertain it. yet, she never entertained that he loves her, that he wishes to be with her in every sense of the word until now. there he went again, saying the right things and each time more tender words fell from him, too many emotions claw at her. they barrel towards her all at once, but not one she could process. alina had learned to endure much, and wiping away every unwanted emotion was a skill she had in spades, but her skills all fail her in this moment. she realized gradually that cedrian had slowly began to read and understood her silences. perhaps she had not done a greater job shielding herself from his gaze, or that she had severely underestimated him and his determination. "yet somehow you still understand." alina certainly didn't think herself worthy of him or his heart, but it was not meant to disparage herself, only that she had understood where her strengths and weaknesses lied. the language of love and affections were absent in her childhood, vanished the moment her mother left her world. and cedrian's existence was proof that she was capable of love, only that she now feared that her love was far too tainted of the shadows of her past. that no matter how hard she tried, how selflessly she loved him, it would drown in her selfishness. was it not now? instead of doing the right thing of ending things and allowing him to find someone worthy of him, she didn't wish to let him go. alina wanted all of him as he offered her, she wanted him to be hers, and perhaps once she could talk herself out of it but now? it was impossible not when he all declared himself hers. everything she had learned about him from the moment they shared their first night together, told her they should not fit the way they do, that nothing of them made sense together. he was everything she wished to be, but would never be, and everything she wanted for herself. and yet as opposites they fit. as if she has found all the broken pieces of herself within his own. he did not speak of his wife ever, perhaps out of respect for alina, but he did not need to for alina to know her passing had left broken him in pieces. she was perhaps foolish to ever believe she could control anything of him, for all the control the high lady held, she learned she held little of it when it came to her heart. cedrian had easily claimed it without her even realizing it until she reached for his. "perhaps i do not need to understand." she finally says, relinquishing a bit the tightly reigned control she held, it slipped each time he gazed at her as he did now. "yes, you do." he did know her, of course he did just as she knew him. each moment she knew more of him, alina knew she had been done for. "nor will i ever understand what i have done to deserve you. only that, i had longed to know what it would feel to be loved by someone as transcendent as you. i do not need anything cedrian, you do not know what you have given me thus far and what you've done for me." her heart is erratic, hearing his thoughts of her, he calls her magnificent? what of he? as if he were any less. "i am humbled nonetheless." she meets his gaze, catching his own uncertain gaze, but it was a look that tugged at her heart, "they were never gone, darling, only dormant, and that is why i am humbled, because you offered them to me. you will never be anything less than perfect to me, you will not understand this so i will implore you to trust me." were she better she would convey how she thought of him, but in due time she would. "i am not magnificent, that is you."

"no, i do not, but i relish in what i see in your gaze for me, nonetheless." selfishly, she never wished for him to gaze at her as anything other than he did now, but whether that changed when she let him, she would worry of them. however, alina would be insulting him and his love if she believed anything less. "you do not believe you deserve that and far more?" he was a man of his words, something she could claim little of men in general. the only man she had ever trusted before ced, was daxton, her surrogate brother who never left her side from childhood to now, despite knowing what she capable of. she would never quite grow accustomed to hearing him reiterate he loves her, alina does make a silent vow that she would try to be partner he deserved, she would try every moment of her existence to be deserving of him. it was fearful, all that still existed around them, their circumstances, that would the surroundings taint what they had. all fears alina forced away, because she realizes they were things they would figure out and solve together. her fingers gently stroke his cheek, memorizing every detail of him with both her hands and her gaze, as if she hadn't already done so. "i sense you knew you have all of me already." there was a slight twitch of her lips at his endearment of her, "a summer storm i wish to keep you far away from, cedrian. however, i was wrong because every storm and sea needs her harbor." if she was the storm, than cedrian was her shores that anchored her, reminded her she had a home. she's still when he cups her face and doesn't allow her to remove her gaze, nor would she because he speaks, finally of his late wife of what her loss did to him, her heart clenches in pain, denying himself love all for his former high lady, because it he thought it as a honor to the mother his children. it was a different ache that settled into her now, "any who loves their spouse the way you do, would believe the same. you had given your entire existence to her." it wasn't a bad thing at all, "it pains me, only imagining of what you went through after you lost her. fates are cruel, i have never thought of them, but if they brought you to me, perhaps they are not all horrendous. you were a gift to her, and now for me." a heartbeat of silence, "i like that you speak of her, i hope that you continue to do so with me." cedrian would not be the man he is now, she's certain, if he did not love his wife, did not share a life with her. as cruel as that sounded, he would not be who he was without his late wife. "how do you always say the right things?"

with every word, the emotions weigh on her, not in a negative light but she has no idea what to do with his probing gaze. she felt relief speaking of him and his wife, but it was a marvel that after his heartbreak he was willing to love again, and to alina of all. she takes a moment, nuzzling their faces, just to simply feel him, the warmth of his presence, the safe harbor he offered, something she's not known, not this form or variation. what it felt like to lean on someone and not fear that you'd fall. there was fear, but of a different kind, not a lack of trust but fear that if she ever lost cedrian , would she ever recover? she knew the answer. she would not. she feels him visibly relax against her frame when she offers to share the parts of herself she kept locked. "it's what i've done, and what i would have done again." she once more halts here, not wishing to break this moment, only selfishly wishing to relish in his warmth, of being in his arms this way. "you will not condemn me because your heart is too generous for that." deep in her bones, she knew this. alina wondered would loving him, in a way of atoning for her sins? was fates giving her a chance to right the many wrongs on her hands? "i understand why we did, or why i have with you." if she could mend his broken heart, alina could at least lay claim to one good deed in her existence. "for how long you will have me." only that she knew, he didn't give his heart so easily, but neither did alina. when their foreheads pressed together, her breaths are scattered from his kiss, his words and what she had finally told him. the shock of her letting those words slips does not wane quickly. one secret of many free, but one she knew that she gave him a form of happiness with. hearing the words from him, she swore felt every bit of what he did in this moment when she uttered those words to him. she returns his kiss, allowing her lips to linger against his own, "did you believe for a moment, i would not love you? how is that possible?" cedrian had nothing to prove to her, but the high lady had everything to do so.

#✶ * ⁎ ⋆ 𝐜𝐞𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 × high lord of day ❜#✶ * ⁎ ⋆ 𝐜𝐞𝐝 × threads ❜#u get no gif bc i closed them

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nicholasgoodgirl · 4 months ago

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sin? maybe - father charlie

summary: your priest takes you home and it leads to other things

warning: p in v, oral (m receiving), face fucking, after care, virginity loss.

a/n: chat idk how to feel abt this at all and am too scared to read it back. i swear if i spelling his name wrong the whole time. im deleting this acc off the face of the earth

3:23pm

you were waiting in the rain; unbothered than anything. but there was no denying the tempeture change as the rain continued it was beginning to become unbearable. five minutes turning to ten, ten turning to fifteen. your mom still never came

you walked back into the church drenched from all the rain. your white dress sticking to you, it was still cold in the church nonetheless.

"y/n?" you turn around to your name being called "what are you still doing here?" father charlie asked.

"oh my mom never came to get me" she probably drank to much and passed out somewhere, it was embarrassing to admit but thats the only reason you went to church, so you can be far from her and to be nothing like her.

"you're all wet. how long have you been out there?" you shrug at his question. he tilted his head in observation looking you up and down; his eyes lingering longer on your breast.

that would have normally made you uncomfortable if it were anyone else, but it was father charlie and everyone knew him as the 'hot priest' and they weren't wrong either.

he clears his throat "uh I'll give you a ride home" he gave you a quick smile then grabbed his keys off the alter and on the way out grabbing his umbrella.

he put his hand on your lower back guiding you under the umbrella. he gave you the keys so you can unlock the car "why don't you start the car up while you're at it"

"oh i dunno how" you declined the offer politely but he insisted that you did it anyways so he can hold the umbrella for you.

you open the car door and bend over putting the upper half of your body inside the car and trying to start it up like that instead of actually sitting down. the key wouldn't really turn so you put your knee on the seat getting into the car more. while doing this you could gradually feel your dress raise. something in you just knew he was looking up your dress

you give up "i can't get it to start" he lets out a low chuckle and takes the keys from you and gestures for you to get out the car. you hold the umbrella while he gets in the car to start it up. the engine cuts on and he takes the umbrella from you and walks you to the passanger side and shuts the door behind you.

3:34 pm

in the car everything he did and had in his car intrigued you. the way he drives with one hand on the wheel and the other hand rested on his leg. the blankets he had in the backseat, the rosemary cross that was hanging from the rearview mirror

"whats your house adress?" he questioned parking at the stop sign, waiting for your answer.

you shrug again "you don't know where you live?" he probed. you did but it was embarrassing to think about how if your moms boyfriend saw you with a guy he would beat you.

"do you wanna come to my house instead" his question was almost hesitant but i accepted the offer with a smile.

4:01 pm

his house was nothing fancy, the aura of the place was comforting. he started a fire in the fireplace and it set a more warm tone in the room.

"you can use my shower. just walk down the hall, it's to your right. I'll bring you a warm towel and clothes"

you walk down the hall and take a turn to the right and find his bathroom. it was definitely not like the bathroom at your house. it was clean the, the scent of father charlie lingered.

you undress then walk over to the shower putting it on hot. a couple minutes into the warm water hitting your body changing your body temperature from cold to warm there was knocks at the door.

"It's unlocked!" i yelled from the shower. and the door opens "i have no actual clothes that you would probably wear to bed but you can wear one of my shirts" ,,don't even worry about it" you reassure

it didn't matter to you, you actually liked the idea of prancing around in that mans shirt. you couldn't forgive yourself for how bad you wanted him to fuck you in the shower.

"well call me if you need anything" he opens the door to leave out. "wait!- wait.. father charlie"

"you can just call me charlie" he corrects. "could you maybe talk to me about your day or anything i don't wanna be alone right now"

you could hear father charlie chuckle at the question "sure. why not"

he began talking about his day while i cleaned myself off. he went into detail about how he made his breakfast and how precise everything had to be. meanwhile i just couldn't get the thought of him talking me through sex.

"you're doing so well"

"how does that feel"

"you need me to slow down" the thought didn't stop it felt so wrong but you needed him. you were giving him hums to let him know you were still listening.

you turn the water off "can you hand me my towel" your hand reaches out of the curtain and you can feel the towel being placed in your hand "thank you"

"can i-" he was cut off by you walking out the shower with just your towel on. he cleared his throat "I'm gonna go" he reached for the door but you grabbed his arm and stopped him.

"will you stop it" he snaps. both his hands grab your arm "stop! im trying so hard not to sin but for fucks sake you're making it nearly impossible"his words comes flying out faster than you could process

"oh.." you mumbled. "y'know we can do something about your little problem" you look down at the buldge in his pants.

he wasnt wearing his vestmant anymore he was just in a black button up with some black formal pants making it more noticeable.

"fucking hell" he grumbled, rolling his eyes. "such a slut. i thought you would have been good. looked so pure" he spat almost like it wasn an insult. "guess not"

"have you ever touched youreslf?" the question wasnt one you would like to answer cause you always felt shame afterwards but nodded anyways avoiding eyes contact; not proud of your doings.

"of course you do" he breathed out "on your knees" ,,what?" you question unsure if you heard him right

"baby you have been so sweet to me so far and I'd hate it if i have to repeat myself"

you drop to your knees and he unbuckles his belt not breaking eye contact with you once. father charlie pulls his pants down and his underwear.

you grab his dick and put it in your mouth. hallowing your cheeks out "look at you taking me so well" he tangles his hand in your hair, grabbing ahold of it and pushing your head forward causing you to gag; you could feel him touching the back of your throat.

"lord please forgive me" he whispered so low it's a suprise you even heard the words come out his mouth

at this point he was just fucking your face, he was watching as his cock disappeared into your mouth. after a while your eyes began to water.

he pulls you away from him "stand up" ,,did i do something wrong?" you ask, letting your towel drop, standing to your feet. wanting to fix any mistake you made along the way. "no sweetheart, you did just fine i just wanna be inside you instead"

he turns you over but you weren't as thrilled about this as he probably was. you were a virgin and too scared to tell him.

he bends you over the counter and you grab ahold of it for support. he lines himself up with you and pushes in

"so fucking tight" he groaned. "wait-" you hit the counter top with your hand "please just wait" you whine

he stops what he's doing and waits for your signal to go "you can move.." my words come out sounding almost strangled.

he pushed in and out of you and for a second you can hear his breath hitch "are you on your period?"

"what!? no" you look behind you and see his lips slowly curl into a smirk "you're a virgin aren't you?" ,,mhm" you nod "even better" he gloated

you could feel his dick hit a spot that made your toes curl. the burning sensation goes away with each rut. you let a few whimpers slip and a grunt with every thrust; your body jolting forward.

he gripped your hips tightly to allow himself to pound into you. you could have sworn you felt his tip hit your cervix.

the sounds of skin slapping against eachother flooded the bathroom "you're such a slut. letting your priest fuck you over a bathroom counter"

he pulled your hair back putting you into a deeper arch, to hit your sweet spot. a guttural moan leaves your lips "oh fuck" you moan.

father charlies hand goes down to your clit rubbing firm circles, sharp uneven breaths pulled through you as you could feel your orgasm approching.

with no warning his warm seed coats your insides, as he rides out his high. his fingers continues to rub in circular motion which makes you finish next; unfolding right there.

you hold his hand to stop him. "im done i can't take anymore" you whisper.

"im sure" he pulls out letting a hiss escape, then walks over to the shower and letting the water run again. the both of you get in and shower together.

he got done before you and while you were still getting clean he made you a snack.

5:59 pm

you two were laid in bed. your head resting on father charlies chest while he traces light shapes on your skin.

"what do i tell my mom" you ask. "whatever you want sweet girl" he kissed your head. what were you gonna tell your mom, you were with another man in his shirt. and overall he's the priest of the church you go to.

#nicholas chavez x reader #nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez smut #father charlie #father charlie × reader #father charlie smut #father charlie mayhew

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harrysfolklore · 5 months ago

Note

yn piastri fretting over oscar’s broken rib and oscar’s like, “gee you’re worst than mum” & nicole’s just like, “yeah i don’t need to worry about oscar when yn’s around”

the rumors are true: i'm obsessed with writing this little scenarios

read little bitch here

"Are you absolutely sure you're comfortable? Maybe we should prop you up a bit more," you hover anxiously over Oscar, adjusting his pillow for the third time in as many minutes." Oh, and do you need more ice? I can run and get some. Actually, should we call the doctor again? Just to double-check everything's okay?"

"YN, I'm fine," Oscar groans, "It's just a broken rib, not the end of the world. I'll be racing in Hungary next weekend anyway."

"What? No, absolutely not!" your eyes widen in alarm. "You can't race with a broken rib, Oscar. That's insane!"

Oscar rolls his eyes dramatically. "It's cracked, not broken. And I've been cleared by the medical team," he stresses, "You're worse that mum sometimes."

From her seat in the corner, Nicole chuckles. "Oh yeah, I don't even have to worry about you when your sister is around. She's got the overprotective mother role covered."

"Thanks, Mum," you say, turning to her. "My therapist has great opinions about it. She says my anxiety comes from a place of love."

"Yeah, well, your love is suffocating me right now," Oscar snorts.

"Osc, I'm just worried about you," you stressed again, "It's too dangerous. What if you crash? What if your rib punctures a lung? What if-"

"What if aliens invade during the race?" Oscar interrupts, mimicking your concerned tone. "What if a meteor hits the track? What if I suddenly forget how to drive?"

"This isn't funny, Oscar! I'm serious!"

"So am I! Carlos nearly drove with a burst appendix, and he was fine!"

Carlos, who's been quietly watching the siblings' back-and-forth like a tennis match, pipes up. "Well, 'fine' might be stretching it. I was in quite a bit of pain, actually."

You whirled on Carlos, who suddenly looked very interested in the ceiling. "Oh, don't even get me started on that piece of stupidity!"

"In my defense," Carlos cleared his throat awkwardly. "I didn't actually race…"

"Only because the team had more sense than you did!" you exclaimed.

"Back when you pretended to hate Carlos but you were at the edge of your seat worrying the entire time he was at the hospital," Oscar teased, making you roll your eyes.

"That's not the point right now," you crosses your arms over your chest, glaring at Oscar. "We're talking about your safety, not my past… concerns."

"Oh, but I think it is relevant," Oscar grins mischievously, sensing an opportunity. "Remember how you kept texting the group chat every five minutes when Carlos was in the hospital? 'Just being a decent human being,' you said. As if we couldn't see right through you."

You feel your cheeks heat up, aware of Carlos' gaze on you. "That's... that's completely irrelevant," you stammer.

"Is that so, hermosa?" Carlos chuckles softly, moving to stand beside you. "I didn't know you cared so much back then."

You shoot Carlos a look that's half embarrassment, half exasperation. "Don't you start. And you," you turn back to Oscar, pointing an accusing finger, "stop trying to change the subject. We're talking about your cracked rib and your ridiculous idea to race with it."

Nicole, who's been watching the exchange with poorly concealed amusement, decides to intervene. "Alright, kids, let's all take a breath. YN, honey, I understand you're worried. But Oscar's right - he's been cleared by the medical team. They wouldn't let him race if it wasn't safe."

"But-" you start to protest, only to be cut off by Oscar.

"No buts," he says firmly. "I appreciate the concern, sis, I really do. But this is my job, and sometimes it comes with risks. I promise I'll be careful, okay?"

You sigh, feeling your resolve weaken. "Fine. But I swear, Oscar, if you so much as wince during that race, I'm storming the track myself."

"Now that I'd pay to see. YN vs. Formula 1 security," Carlos jokes, "My money's on you, mi amor."

As you and Oscar continue to bicker, your mom and Carlos exchange amused glances. Carlos leans towards her, speaking in a low voice.

"Has YN always been like this?" he asks, a fond smile playing on his lips as he watches you fuss over Oscar.

"Oh, you have no idea," Nicole chuckles softly. "This is actually quite mild compared to when they were kids. There was this one time when Oscar was about seven, and he fell off his bike. Scraped his knee pretty badly. YN, who was ten at the time, went into full nurse mode."

"What did she do?" Carlos raises an eyebrow, intrigued.

"Well," she continues, "She insisted on 'quarantining' Oscar in his room for a week, claiming he needed complete bed rest. She even made a 'Do Not Disturb: Patient Recovering' sign for his door. Poor Oscar was going stir-crazy by day two, but YN wouldn't let him leave. She brought him all his meals, read him stories, everything."

Carlos can't help but laugh at the image. "That sounds exactly like something she would do."

"Oh, it gets better," Nicole grins. "When I finally convinced her that Oscar was fine to go outside, she insisted on wrapping him in bubble wrap before he could ride his bike again. Said it was 'necessary protective gear'. Oscar looked like a little astronaut waddling down the street."

Their laughter catches your attention, and you pause in your debate with Oscar about the dangers of racing with a cracked rib. "What's so funny?" you ask suspiciously.

Before Nicole can respond, Oscar, catching on to the conversation, groans dramatically. "Oh god, Mum, please tell me you're not telling the bubble wrap story."

Your eyes widen in realization, and you feel a blush creeping up your neck. "Mum! You promised never to mention that again!"

Carlos, still chuckling, wraps an arm around your waist. "I think it's adorable, hermosa. You've always been a protector."

"Well control your girlfriend! She's trying to bubble wrap me again, I swear!"

"I am not! Although..." you trail off, a mischievous glint in your eye, "it's not a bad idea for the race. Extra padding couldn't hurt, right?"

"YN, no!"

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amazinglyashy · 3 months ago

Note

Hello, can you do LADS men's reaction to MC/reader working too hard, to the point that she looks tired and drained? She also easily gets sick because of stress. And yes, it's based on me; right now, I'm so tired because of work, and I have dance practice almost every day for our departmental performance while I'm sick with the flu. Thank you 💜

Sorry for the delay, but I wanted to do this one justice as best as I could, because oh man did I feel this personally! Not the same at all, but I get heavy duty chronic pain, and I overwork myself often by choice or not, all the time. Feel better anon <3 I hope you enjoy, and make sure to get some Pedialyte or sports drinks, and rest whenever you can. Your health is extremely important!

Love and Deepspace Li's reactions to you being overworked and sick

Zayne -

He's a doctor, you can't even get into the realm of hoping to hide it from him for long, and you'll want to hide it from him if you're actually wanting to be doing whatever it is that's causing you to be overworked to the point of illness.

He will take a single look at you the first time he sees you once you've reached this point- routine examination, stopping by work to see you or vice versa, running something by your place he borrowed, even just you making the mistake of taking an offered ride home from him due to how tired you are. It was a lapse in judgement on your part in trying to keep this from him, but your beyond exhausted brain didn't process it at the time.

But you sure are processing it now that you've been 'kidnapped' and taken back to his place.

He has already filled out a formal doctors note- benefits of being your primary physician- and sent it over to your bosses and managers. There's no arguing.

"Zayne, I'm-" "If you are about to try a weak attempt at convincing me you are alright, I will accept it as you insulting my intelligence as a doctor."

You're in his bed, under his blankets, probably in his pajamas since he wouldn't let you escape home, and drinking the warm drink he made for you to have after taking medicine he had given you to help with your illness. He'll order food that will be good for you to eat as well, and if it's too late for takeout, he'll definitely be cooking for you as well.

Once you're done eating, he'll make sure you're properly cared for by massaging any tired or pained muscles. If that's your entire body, then so be it. Close your eyes, tilt hour head back, and relax even though it hurts in a good way sometimes, because he's not letting up.

Not until you feel better. No matter how long that takes.

Rafayel -

Genuinely, he's offended and hurt that you've overworked yourself this hard and haven't told him. And boy, is he going to let you know it.

He's carrying you gently from wherever he had found you looking so tired- no it does not matter if you were in the middle of working- while actively scolding you in his arms.

"Maybe I should just leave you there all day, come see you in the evening when you get a bad case of amnesia. Would you like that? Huh? No? Well, then stop being stupid."

He doesn't even want to dare set foot in your place right now. He's not in the mood to clean, and he knows if this is the state you're in, your apartment is probably so much worse due to just how busy and exhausted you've been.

He'll go clean it later, but right now he's just grumpy.

There is something about the fresh, oceanside air that helps your headache though- or maybe it's the light linen on his bed that he would have dropped you on had you not looked like the most frail thing he had seen all week.

He's muttering snarky remarks to you, but they're devoid of any bite due to his actions as he speaks them-

Getting you a fluffy robe to change into, putting something simple in the oven while you get comfortable, working special lotion into your muscles, making you lemon and honey tea, making it more humid so any sinus problems clear and help you breathe- he's being vocal through it all, but spoiling you as much as he can nonetheless.

"I don't care if you have a lot to do. Just- ask for help next time. And if I can't help with your work, at least let me help you relax once you're home. I don't mind you staying over either, so that I can make you feel better. Just promise me you'll do better next time, so I can help you before you get this bad."

Xavier -

He probably stopped by your apartment to return something he borrowed, and you made the mistake of answering the door directly after coming home. You were at your peak of tired, and your head had started pounding for some reason... and didn't you feel a bit hot...?

"Oh- You look- You don't look very good. Is everything alright?"

You can't even answer before he's reaching out a hand to hover in front of you, trying to decide between touching you and not, before deciding on the former. He can feel you're just the slightest bit unsteady from working so you're being scooped up in an instant and taken to the bed you had already been planning to go to.

"What have they been having you do...? Never mind. That's- not important right now."

Takes off your shoes and socks, murmurs something about giving you a massage in a bit, before tugging blankets and plushies around you. He'll leave to let you change into pajamas or something more comfortable, and he'll keep himself busy by making you something to eat or clean up your apartment for you.

He tries to cook you something, he really does try. But he definitely has more talent at talking on the phone to the restaurant he's ordering you takeout from. The pan he tried to use does not survive the attempt.

The takeout is good when it comes, though, and it helps that he gave you some medicine prior to help keep it down. Even if you're not currently nauseous, he's pretty worried about your state worsening quickly.

You won't notice until it's too late, but he's already finding out how to transfer some of your workload to himself. By 'some', it's definitely 'all'.

"No, I won't change my mind. Not until you're better. You're so tired, let me do this for you. You can make it up to me by getting me something in the claw machine later."

Sylus -

"I'm just going to go-"

"Go where, kitten?"

You had made the mistake of nearly falling over under the watchful gaze of Mephisto, who had decided it would be absolutely wonderful to relay the information about it and your current state back to Sylus as quickly as he could.

Which is how you had ended up stuck in the hallway the led to your apartment, practically pinned to the wall with Sylus's hands on either side of you.

That is also how you ended up slung over Sylus's shoulder as he unlocked your apartment door for you and went inside, carrying you like it was nothing.

To be fair, you couldn't do much to fight him off this time except utilize a few choice words. You were so beyond exhausted, and starting to feel pretty ill, to boot.

He's got you to bed as soon as the door is shut. You're allowed a hot shower if you promise him a few dozen times that you'll get straight to bed after. He makes sure to promise you that he'll come and make you get in bed if you go against that promise. For once, you don't want to call his bluff.

You're in bed soon enough, with a cool rag pressed on your forehead, some pain medication long since down your throat, and food already on the way courtesy of Luke and Kieran's special henchmen delivery service.

Lying in bed is like heaven on your sore muscles and aching joints, not to mention the pounding headache you've had since starting to feel sick and missing out on sleep. But what somehow feels even better is Sylus's hands on you.

They're just gentle touches, his fingertips ghosting over your skin to leave goosebumps at how nice it feels, and sometimes his whole hands moving slowly and lightly across your body. He'll massage your muscles later, but for now, he's just focused on getting you to sleep, even if just for a little bit until the food gets here.

He knows you need it.

#.writey #love and deepspace #lads #x reader #lds #lnds #rafayel x reader #zayne x reader #sylus x reader #xavier x reader #sickfic #sort of!#.req

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morbidapples · 7 months ago

Text

i never forgot you

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴: 𝖽𝗂𝗏𝗈𝗋𝖼𝖾𝖽!𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅𝖽𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆: 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆. 𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗁𝗎𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎. 𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖼𝗁𝗈𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝖺𝗌𝗁𝗂 𝖽𝗎𝗇𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗌 𝖺𝗀𝗈. 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝗍𝗁 𝗐𝖺𝗌, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍. 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗂𝗆 𝗍𝗈𝗈 𝗆𝗎𝖼𝗁, 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 𝟧,𝟨𝟣𝟧 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌; 𝟥𝟢,𝟨𝟣𝟢 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖿 𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖿𝖺𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗎𝗆𝖺, 𝗌𝗆𝗈𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗁𝗈𝗅 (𝖻𝗈𝗍𝗁 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝖻𝖾𝗋 𝖻𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖿𝗎𝖼𝗄), 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗌𝖾, 𝗉 𝗂𝗇 𝗏 𝗌𝖾𝗑 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝖺 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗆 (𝖻𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗁 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗅), 𝖼𝗎𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗇𝗀.

𝗮/𝗻: 𝗂 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌. 𝖺𝗀𝖺𝗂𝗇, 𝗂 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗎𝗌𝗎𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍, 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂'𝗆 𝗍𝗋𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝖺𝗒𝖻𝖾 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗈𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗇. 𝗒𝖾𝖺𝗁, 𝗂 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖺𝗒, 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝖾𝗉𝗍 𝗉𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝖺 𝗀𝗁𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋.

"Did you hear Art Donaldson's coming?"

That's all anyone could talk about, Art this, Art that. So what if he was coming? You didn't give a shit. (You did, you always did when it came to him.)

Logically, you knew you might see him here, but emotionally, you were really hoping you wouldn't have to, especially considering there were hundreds of people at the Standford alumni gathering.

Once you'd graduated, you'd left all traces of him behind. Or at least, you tried. His name still popped into your head, his face sometimes even appeared in your dreams at night.

Even worse, promotion for him and Tashi Duncan's book was plastered over half the city of New Jersey. It certainly didn't help that one was on the billboard that you so unfortunately had a view of from the window of your apartment.

Your friendship with him had never been clear, but it had been everything but simple. You had felt there was always something more, with the lingering glances, and the gentle touches.

But all of that had changed when she showed up. Tashi fucking Duncan. You felt robbed, stolen from. As soon as she'd stepped into the picture, Art's attention was solely on her.

So you left. Erased yourself out of his life completely. Distanced your life from his until you both graduated, and never looked back. Well, mostly.

Looking back, maybe it was selfish. But all you knew is that you couldn't bear to watch him fawn over her like a lost puppy. Not when you felt so deeply for him.

You shake your head, trying to break yourself out of your stupor. There's too many people here, and you hate it. You already know everyone will want to ask you about your life, your career.

Once you'd left Stanford, you'd made a name for yourself in the tennis world. You loved winning, but you despised the attention. But you knew it was the price to pay for success. So, you tried to keep as much of your private life out of the headlines as possible.

You needed to clear your head, get some fresh air. And figure out what the hell you were doing here, and why you thought it was a good idea to show up.

Unfortunately, it seems like someone else had the same idea, as you're hit with the smell of smoke as soon as you step outside.

"Needed to get away, too?"

Your heart plummets at the familiar, yet unmistakable voice. The one person you'd prayed you wouldn't have to see. Art Donaldson.

You turn to see him leaning against the rail, taking a drag from his cigarette. You'd almost forgotten how utterly gorgeous he was until you laid your eyes on him, and it seemed like he'd only gotten better with age.

The smoke from the cigarette wafts off into the air, and your eyes lock with his. A moment of silence goes by. You want to greet him briefly and then walk off, but he speaks before you do.

"Long time, no see."

You mentally curse yourself for not being quick enough to have the first word, and nod slightly, an indifferent expression on your face.

"Art Donaldson. Has been a long time, hasn't it?"

He blows out another puff of smoke, eyeing you. He'd be lying if he said he'd forgotten about you. You were someone who had haunted him for years, through his entire marriage with Tashi. He could never forget about you, no matter how much time had passed.

"You haven't changed a bit."

You don't say anything, not quite sure how to respond. It's true, it had been years since you and him had last spoken. But what you didn't know is that he had made an effort to keep up with you. He'd been keeping tabs on how you were doing with your tennis career. He'd never admit it, but he was guilty of googling you, to find only headlines of your tennis wins, and barely anything about your personal life.

It seemed like when you weren't playing tennis, you basically ceased to exist, which he suspected was your choice entirely. Despite the years of zero contact, Art couldn't pretend like he didn't care for you. That he didn't still love you, even if he'd been so incredibly blind to it back in your college days.

"Congratulations, by the way." Art says, alluring to your recent conquest in the tennis world. "Winning gold at the Rio Games is no small feat." He can see in your expression that winning that medal wasn't completely satisfying. Your face tells him that you haven't felt a sense of contentment in a very long time.

He wants to ask you why you disappeared. He'd wanted to for years. But all that comes out is, "How's your family?" Stupid question with an even stupider answer. He wanted to slap himself in the face. He knew your family was a sore topic for you. And yet, he was still coming up with mindless small talk to try to fill the unbearable tension between you.

You sigh. "Fine, minus my bitch of a mother. She passed a couple years ago." Art internally winces. He knew you'd had it bad at home, only living with your mother for most of your life after your father had left when you were nine. You'd moved to California to attended Stanford the moment you'd become a legal age to be on your own.

He sucks in a sharp breath and frowns softly as you talk about your mother's passing. There was no love lost in between you and her, but he didn't want to be cruel and completely insensitive.

"Sorry about that." Art says, taking another hit off his cigarette. He looks at you, taking you in with a sense of wonderment. You had grown into such an incredible woman, and somehow, it seemed like you'd gotten even more beautiful. Your deep colored eyes and sun-kissed skin make his heart best faster. How he's missed you.

You shrug, trying not to show any hint of emotion on your face as you speak. "Eh, don't be. You know she was always a shit mother anyways."

If he was being honest, he'd say your mother was a lot of things- manipulative, selfish, abusive- but he would've been lying if Art said that he didn't want to protect you back then.

Looking back at it now, there's so many things he could've done differently back then, like be a better friend. Maybe even a better boyfriend, if he'd had the chance. His mouth opens as if he's going to say something stupid, but Art closes it and instead says, "Why'd you disappear? Why don't we talk?"

Your eyebrows raise slightly, at his inquiry. Truth be told, he knows what you don't talk anymore. He knows he fucked up, majorly. But he's relieved when you don't immediately snap at him, or worse. You always did have a short fuse.

"And how do you know I disappeared? Have you been keeping tabs on me?"

He looks at you, eyes narrowing in disbelief. "Are you serious?" Art raises his brows, "You're not seriously asking me that. You're one of the best tennis players out there. You went radio silent." He pauses, before saying in a slightly teasing way, "You're the one who should've been keeping tabs on me."

You scoff, resisting the urge to roll your eyes. "I don't have to. You and Tashi are plastered over half the buildings and billboards in Jersey." Jersey. Jersey? He was surprised you moved there out of all places. You'd always expressed a dislike for it back then.

Art chuckles at your response. "What, don't you like Jersey?" He jokes, flicking the cigarette away. He turns his body to look at you, studying your expression. "But seriously. Why did you drop off the face of the earth?" He's not going to tell you that he'd looked for you, even though he had. It was a few searches on Google, a few emails. You'd just vanished.

His mouth opens again, this time not backing down from what he really wanted to say. "And don't give me some bullshit excuse either." It sounds more like a command to you than anything. Art is really trying to keep himself from saying all the things he's wanted to say for years.

The thinly veiled frustration lining his voice sends a rush of anger through you. Who does he think he is, ordering you around?

"Don't speak to me that way. Like you have some type of control over me."

It's then Art knows he's screwed up, letting that irritation seep into his tone. He knows he doesn't have any control over you. He never has, and never will. He doesn't want to control you. He just wants you again.

"I'm not. I know I don't have control over you. But did you forget that I was once your friend?" Friend. It pains him to even call you that. You were always more, even though he was completely sucked into Tashi's orbit, like she was the sun. She wasn't. Art stands taller, his broad shoulders straight, his eyes never pulling away from yours.

"Were we, though? You dropped me for Tashi the second she showed up, and you wonder why I haven't reached out?"

Art's teeth grind in his mouth. "That's not fair." He says gruffly, even though he's lying through his teeth. "I didn't drop you. If I remember correctly, you were the one who left." He's getting agitated, his heart starting to race, his hands starting to clench into fists.

But not towards you. God, never you. He'd rather die than ever cause you harm. But the thing is, you weren't wrong. That's exactly what he did.

"I left because I knew if I stuck around, it would never stop hurting me."

That's when Art knows, getting involved with Tashi was the worst thing he ever did. It cost him his friendship with Patrick, his love for tennis. It cost him you.

He knew that your words were laced with truth, that he truly was the root of the heartache that you felt. And he'd do anything to take it back. But he couldn't. The only thing be could do now it try to make it right.

As for his feelings, that's another can of worms Art doesn't even want to open. He'd always had feelings for you, feelings that he thought would go away. But no, years later, they were still as present as ever. He wished he hadn't been so blind.

"I've always been second to Tashi. I couldn't ever compete with her, Art."

He swallows hard. Deep down, he knows it's true. Back in your college days, he was so focused on Tashi that he'd failed to notice what was right in front of him.

Art's heart hurt for you. But even though he knew how much he'd hurt you, how selfish he'd been, he couldn't help but get upset at your words.

"You could never complete?" He huffs through clenched teeth, shaking his head. "God, you just don't get it, do you?" Art steps forward, his body almost towering over you.

Rationally, he knows this isn't the right time or place, and maybe there won't ever be a right time or place. But you're here, now, and he won't lose you again without telling you how he feels.

A sudden heat washes over your body as he steps closer, his breath hitting your face.

"You could never, ever compete with Tashi, but not because you aren't good enough." His hand shoots up to touch your cheek, a soft touch to your skin. His thumb runs against your bottom lip, gently.

Everything in you screams for you to back away, go before you get hurt again. But you find yourself mesmerized by those same eyes you fell in love with all those years ago.

Art's voice is low and deep as he continues, his eyes never leaving yours. "You could never compete with her because I was stupid, I was stupid enough to fall in love with you first. But I pushed you away."

The confession is whispered, and you can hardly believe what he's said. What is going on? Art Donaldson is standing in front of you, declaring his love after years of no contact and a failed marriage to another.

"Art, I..." You don't know what to say. Your brain is mush, your head filled with a million thoughts, your heart threatening to pound out of your chest. You're missed, you're resented, you're loved, and now all you want to do is kiss him.

His hand cupping your cheek begins to slide down to your neck and his other hand slips around your waist, softly tugging you against him. His fingers slide through your hair and Art's eyes are on you, watching you, taking you in.

"I have loved you since we were kids. I was so stupid to not notice it before." He whispers, his breath hitching and his cheeks flushing ever so slightly. "And I have never been able to get you out of my head or my heart. And I am sick and tired of pretending like you aren't the love of my goddamn life."

There isn't any hint of malice, or treachery in his eyes, and he hopes to God that you know that. He knows he can't ever take back the pain he caused you, but he wants to try even if it kills him.

With that, Art kisses you. It's hot, it's needy, and it's passionate as all hell. Your body is responding to him in ways you didn't even know was possible. As he continues to pour all his love for you into that kiss, it picks up in pace, until you feel Art's teeth biting your lip. Your mouth opens to respond, but his tongue slips inside your mouth, causing a low moan to hum out of you. Your tongues slide against each other, your bodies pressed together tightly.

Art can't help himself as his hands explore every inch of your body. One hand is buried in your hair, but the other is traveling down, exploring the bare skin of your back. You arch into him, your fingers digging into his shirt.

You taste like nicotine and beer, you taste like home, a flavor that makes him all that much hungrier for you. He lets out a low groan as he slips his hands into the back of your pants, causing you to moan into his mouth.

Art is starting to lose control and knows that if he doesn't stop this now, he'll take you right here in the grass outside the reunion. He doesn't want your first time to be like this. Not when there's been so much grief getting here, so much pain he's caused to you.

Reluctantly, he rips his mouth off of yours, pulling away slightly. Both of you are panting heavy, your cheeks flushed.

Art doesn't say anything at first. His eyes rake over your disheveled appearance, your lips swollen, your hair out of place. He's sure he looks just as bad. Clearing his throat, he mutters a soft apology. "This isn't happening here. Can I..." He's about to say that he wants to take you back to his hotel.

You nod quickly, eyes blown wide with desire, but with love, too. "Y-yeah. Yeah." After all this time, not seeing him, you'll be damned if you let him slip through your fingers again.

That's all Art needs to hear. He grabs your hand and intertwines your fingers before leading the way to his car. Thank god the reunion was being hosted at a hotel, or Art wouldn't have been able to control himself.

After getting into the car, Art speeds out of the parking lot, his hand never letting go of yours. The drive back is a bit of a blur, his focus solely on you.

When you arrive at his hotel, Art is pulling you down the hallway, your lips connected like two magnets, unable to stay away from each other. Every step is like a challenge as you make your way to the room. All the while, you both stumble over your own feet until you feel your back against the door. You moan into his mouth once more, pulling at Art's shirt, before your kiss is broken by a panting Art.

"Wait," Art whispers, his voice soft. His eyes look at you in the dark of the hallway, his breath coming in hard pants. He's about to ask you if you want this, but your lips meeting his, your hands exploring his bare chest underneath the shirt, is all the answer he needs. He fumbles around for the handle of the door, trying to put the key card in, and it seems like an eternity until you stumble into the room.

Once inside the bedroom, Art is pulling you on top of him on the bed, his body desperate for you to be closer. You shift in his lap, pressing yourself against him, his hardness against your thigh. You gasp, hands running down his chest. Your lips remain locked as your fingers explore each other. Art is running his hands under your shirt, exploring your waist and sides eagerly.

And that's when Art's brain is hit with a sudden realization. He pulls back, breathing heavily, "Wait. We need to stop." He says, his voice firm. Art's eyes find you, and your brow is furrowed as you look at him with confusion and desire.

"What is it?" You ask, your breathing shallow. Art's hands on your sides make you shiver, his touch awakening every inch of your body. "Do you..." You pause, watching his face, "Do you not want this?" Your voice is soft and questioning.

His hands on your sides grip tighter as he answers, "God no, I want this. I want you. I just..." Art can feel the words catch in his throat, but then the question slips out, "Do you love me? I just... I don't want this to be just a causal thing, you know? I finally have you, and I don't want to lose you again." He waits for you to answer, the words hanging in the air. Your breath hitches in his ears.

The anxiety coursing through your veins deflates at his response, and you laugh quietly. "Are you dense? Of course. I've loved you since we were sixteen."

And that is what he's been waiting for. Art can feel a smile spread across his lips, his heart swelling as he pulls you in for a kiss. It's not a kiss filled with the same desire as before. It's filled with love and joy, full of passion and promise.

His hand moves to your back, gently caressing your back, before he flips the two of you so that he's leaning over you, his body still pressed against yours.

His mouth moves down to your neck, pressing wet kisses along your skin, while his hands slide up your sides to tease the waistband of your jeans. He can feel your fingers burying themselves in his hair, your back arching just slightly.

Art can feel the neediness as your touch urges him closer and closer. You're tugging at his shirt, your breath coming out in short stutters. He feels your mouth trail down his neck and Art's hands fumble with your jeans, desperately working on the zipper and pushing them off.

As soon as your jeans are off, he presses his body against you again, his hips rocking into yours. A low moan slips out of Art's mouth as your bodies grind into each other, his mouth finding yours, hungry and hot.

Art can feel your nails dig into his shoulders. He's gripping your thigh, his hand slipping under your shirt to touch your bare skin, feeling his need rise like a raising fire in his stomach.

You gasp out, fingers pushing at his shirt, desperate to see more. More of him. "Off- off. I wanna see you."

Your gasp makes his heart flutter and Art can't help but groan into your mouth as you say those words. "Yeah..." He mutters against your lips, his body hot and needy against yours.

Art lets go of you and lifts his shirt off, tossing it to the floor, revealing his hard, toned abdomen and built chest. His eyes search your face, watching you take in sight of him and waiting for approval.

God, he's beautiful. Like a damn sculpture in a museum. You lean up to press hot, open-mouthed kisses to his chest, taking a moment to gently tug on his nipple with your teeth. If that isn't a sign of your approval, then he doesn't know what is.

Art bites the inside of his lip to muffle his moan. The feeling of your teeth on him is like electricity on his skin and he can't help the whimper that slips out of his mouth. His own teeth graze the skin of your neck, sucking slightly.

He wants you, needs you. And you are making it painfully obvious that the feeling is mutual. He moans into your mouth as Art pushes you gently back into the mattress as he slides between your thighs.

And then his body is pressing against you again, and you're both back to grinding against each other, the friction making you both moan. It's hot and sweat-inducing, passionate and fast. Art's hands are reaching for your bra and tugging it off, needing to feel your skin on his.

The minute the bra hits the floor, he's touching you again, his hands trailing down from your chest to your hips. His mouth finds yours again, your kiss a needy, hard, hungry mess of tongue and teeth.

Art is painfully hard, desperate for you. His hips are rocking, his breath coming hot and needy as you grind together. The pleasure is starting to build, and he can feel your own neediness growing.

He's got to be inside you. Every part of his body is screaming with that need, but he's so desperately trying to hold back. It's not just Art, though. You're needy, as well, your moans and whines telling him exactly what you want.

Art's hand slides down your body, and pauses just above the band of your panties, looking at you in a silent question of consent. When you nod, his hand slip into your underwear, his fingers touching your wetness. He can feel you gasp against his mouth, and Art's fingers rub teasing circles against your cunt. "You're so beautiful." He whispers against your mouth, desperate and needy, "And you're all mine." He's never sounded so possessive before and it shocks him.

But you can't get enough of it. After years of longing, years of pining, he's finally looking at you. He loves you. You moan in his ear, hips canting into his touch.

And then Art's fingers are slipping inside you, pumping slowly as you kiss and press into each other. The way you moan, the way your body reacts, makes Art moan with you, unable to keep himself quiet. He's drowning in your scent and your skin, everything in this room is you.

One of your arms wraps around his neck, as you gasp, moan, and pant into his ear. You're squeezing around his fingers, as his name falls from your lips like a vow. "Oh, oh, God- Art- fuck, don't stop-"

Art's fingers are pumping harder and faster, driven by the sound of his name spilling from your lips. Your moans fill his ears, the sounds and the way you're saying your name makes his neediness all the more desperate. He's desperate to make you cum, to see you come undone because of him.

It isn't long before you feel that familiar coil building in your stomach. "I'm gon- fuck-" You're so close, he can feel it.

He moans into your mouth, shifting down as his fingers work harder, his thumb finding your cunt. "Yeah?" He whispers, his mouth trailing down your neck. "You gonna come for me, baby?"

You gasp out hoarsely, muscles tightening. "Yes! Fuck, mhm-" Your eyes threaten to roll back back, as your jaw goes slack at your upcoming orgasm.

Art can feel you trembling against him, your body shaking as his hands work. This is the effect he has in you and it's driving him crazy. He's panting with his own neediness, but watching and hearing you is what's doing him in. "Come on, sweetheart. Cum for me." He whispers, feeling you clench around his fingers.

"I'm-" You cut yourself off as Art's fingers hit just the right spot. Your nails dig into his shoulders, and you're gasping out into his shoulder, mostly incoherent swears as your muscles clench and your orgasm washes over you. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck- so good, so good-" The sight of you is something he never wants to forget. Eyes fluttering, mouth agape, your moans rising in pitch.

Art can feel a groan escape as he watches you orgasm, his fingers still working to bring you over the edge. You're a perfect picture of ecstasy, flushed pink and trembling against him. "God, you're gorgeous." He moans out, feeling your thighs tremble.

A moment later, he's pulling his hands away from your body, his own neediness growing more desperate. He kisses you, deep and hard, before murmuring in her ear. "Turn over for me, sweetheart."

You're a little shaky as you let him shift and roll you over on your stomach, but you're all too willing. Art's hands are sliding up your soft thighs, his touch gentle with so much love. He's pressed against you again, his mouth leaving kisses up your spine, before he's pulling a cushion under your hips.

His teeth sink into the soft skin of your shoulder as he grinds against you again, moaning into your shoulder; the friction and neediness is driving him insane. "I need you." He whispers, his voice thick with need.

You can feel him pressing against you, his desperate need all too apparent. You moan into the pillow in response, pushing back slightly against him. You whine softly as his teeth bite your shoulder, a low shudder running through your body. "Then take me." You moan, arching your back to press firmly against him.

You're driving him absolutely mad. Art's hands grip your hips, fingers pressing into the delicate skin before pulling you up against him. He's panting in your ear, "Yeah? You want me, baby? Tell me his much you need me." His own neediness is making him desperate.

Your hand reaches back to tangle your fingers in his hair, gasping into his ear. "Please, please, Art- need you to fill me up- need you so bad-"

Art's brain doesn't have time to register your words because he's moaning against your skin and rocking needily against you. His teeth bite your shoulder again as he pants out, desperate, "Yeah, honey, anything- anything you want- I'm yours." He whispers, almost incoherent in his desire for you.

His head dips down to your ear, panting into it and shifting slightly. "Do I need a condom, sweetheart?" He moans, his voice huskier than before. His hands are running down your sides again, the touch almost like a soothing caress before they settle on your waist.

You gasp out, hips still rolling back against his, desperate for friction. "No- I'm on birth control-"

Art nearly sags in relief. He would've used a condom if he needed to, but the thought of going raw inside you makes him to absolutely feral.

"God, you're perfect." He moans, one of his hands trailing back down to your hips and gripping them tightly. He's still moaning needily, your words only driving him further towards the edge. His forehead presses to the back of your neck, his breath hit and needy on your skin. "Gonna make you feel good, sweetheart."

When he finally slides into you, his eyes roll into the back of his head. You're so warm, so soft, so perfect. And the way you're gripping into his hair as he enters you is so goddamn good. You're tugging on locks of his blonde hair, as his body is draped over your back, skin to skin, and it takes effort not to cum then and there.

Art is panting into your neck, his body draped over yours like a living blanket. Your body is perfect under his, his hands gripping your hips and pulling you back into him, as he pants out, "You feel so good, sweetheart. God- can you-" His words are cut off as he bites the nape of your neck, and he's moaning, needy and incoherent.

He's pressed fully into you, surrounded by heat and pleasure. It's driving him crazy, but then you're pulling his hair and he's moaning against your skin, shuddering slightly. You're perfect, all of you, and Art's lost in you.

One of your hands stays tangled in his hair, and the other is curled tightly into the sheets as he thrusts into you, your body rocking forward with each one. Your breasts are bouncing slightly as he fucks you, and you're gasping and moaning pleas of his name, incoherent swears, and begging him not to stop.

And Art is thrusting into you, moaning and panting like a wild animal. His hands are gripping your hips, his own breaths coming out hot and needy against your shoulder. His own moans are spilling out, broken up by his words. "God, baby- you feel so good- so perfect-" He's practically whimpering with need, his face buried in your shoulder. "Want you so bad- honey- God-"

You're driving him insane with your gasps and moans, and Art's words are losing syllables, become more incoherent and slurred with his thrusts. You're perfect, and he can feel a pressure building low in his stomach. He's shaking, the pleasure becoming too much as he gasps out, "Sweetheart, I'm close- gonna-"

He's close, the pressure growing, and he's babbling mindlessly now, his words broken up by moans and gasps. "God- gonna come- don't stop-" He's whimpering into your shoulder, his hand traveling down to your waist and holding you like a vice.

He's pulling you back as he thrusts forward into you, and the pressure and pleasure are too much. His fingers dig into your waist, and Art can feel himself fall over the edge. He's moaning, gasping out your name as his nails dig into your skin, his breath hit against your shoulder.

It's only a moment before he's reaching down to rub figure eights against your cunt, desperate to make you cum.

And he's barely coming down from his own climax, still shuddering and gasping, yet his hands are moving already. He's touching you, fingers rubbing circles against your cunt, desperate to bring you over the edge with him. "Come on, baby. Come on-" He's whining, breath hot against your skin, as he continues his efforts, desperate for your peak.

You're close, he can feel it. You're trembling under his touch and Art's fingers are working faster and faster, begging you, "Please- please- come on- please-" And then you're arching your back against him, shuddering and gasping as you cum under his touch.

Art's eyes roll back into his skull as you come under his fingers and on his cock, a desperate whine slipping out of his mouth. He'd almost forgotten how wonderful your orgasms are. You're ethereal. "God- sweetheart-" He's moaning, pulling you closer, desperate to keep touching you and feel you shaking against him.

He's panting, his forehead pressing to the nape of your neck. His head us spinning from the onslaught of pleasure, his body trembling slightly. He's panting and shivering and still buried deep in you, and all he can think about is still you. Your skin, your scent, your body. His brain can't catch up.

It takes a few minutes before he's come down enough to pull away from you, slipping out of you slowly yet reluctantly. He's still whimpering in your ear, kissing your shoulder reverently. There's a gentle smile pulling at his lips as his arms wrap around you and pull you closer, wanting to feel more skin to skin contact.

Everything else slips away as his body is pressed against yours, legs tangled and skin on skin. Art's body is still buzzing from his orgasm, but right now, you're his one and only focus. He's whispering in your ear, mindless praise and sweet words he wouldn't dare say to anyone else. "God, baby- you're perfect. You're everything- I could drown in you and die happy."

You giggle softly, basking in the afterglow. After so long, you're here, with him. And he loves you. By God, does he love you. He reaches out to tuck a sweat soaked piece of hair behind your ear, pausing to gently run his thumb over your cheekbone. "I love you."

You can't help the exhausted grin that creeps onto your face when you hear that. "I love you, too."

He contains to murmur gentle words and praises, although his words are broken up by soft kisses to your shoulder. It's been years since he's felt this kind of pleasure. Years since he felt so content, so at home. Art hadn't realized how much he'd missed it- missed you. Right now, his only desire is to hold onto you, keep you as close as possible, and never let you go again.

Not that you'd even dream of leaving him again.

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wife-of-all-dilfs · 1 year ago

Note

Hii! I love love love all of your finnick fics! Could I please request a fic where reader is also a victor from an earlier game and she is in an established relationship with Finnick. They both get reaped (not the same district) for the 75th games and reader gets critically hurt in the part where the cornucopia spins. Like she falls into the water after maybe being injured and she can’t swim, so Finnick has to risk everything to save her life.

I’m really looking for like a hurt/comfort with a seriously injured reader and Finnick going through hell to save her because he cannot imagine a life without her in it.

Thank you so much if you’re willing to write this or something like it, feel free of course to change anything to your liking!

two souls, one heart | f. odair

masterlist

summary: finnick refuses to lose the love of his life. your inability to swim complicates things, especially when the cornucopia begins spinning.

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

warnings: pre-established relationship, heavy angst, drowning, death, bone fracture

notes: thank you so much!!! i really enjoyed writing this, shed a few tears but still enjoyed it lmao. listen to 'beginning of the end movement v' by the newton brothers on repeat for the full experience <3

A quiet nursery rhyme was being sung by the water's edge.

The calm waves around the Cornucopia lapped at the rocks, the blistering sun causing the surface to sparkle. Wiress' voice interrupted Peeta as he mapped out the arena's clock-like wedges in the dirt. Everyone was focused on the map; you should have been too.

Dark blue ripples had your eyes captivated. So tranquil. So hauntingly beautiful. Loving the sea was in your blood, as your District Four was your home. You would think coming from a fishing district would mean your swimming abilities were mastered. In reality, they were practically non-existent. No matter how many times Finnick had attempted to give you lessons, they never stuck.

Neither of you seemed to care though, always too enraptured by simply being in each other's company—feeling Finnick's hands support your body as you floated on the surface...

"Don't you let go of me, Finnick Odair, or I swear to god I'll drown you."

"Will that be before or after you drown first?" he chuckled, though ultimately tightening his grip on your body in an attempt to reassure you.

....hysterically laughing when he got wiped out by a sudden wave...

"No way! I can't—" You broke into a fit of laughter— "I can't believe that just happened!"

"Are you laughing at me, sweetheart?" Finnick asked, trudging through the water towards you, his hair drenched and swept across his forehead.

"Yes!"

You doubled over, knees buckling as you struggled to contain your laughter. Despite trying to put up a serious front, Finnick too let a few chuckles slip at the hysterical sight of you.

"Oh really?"

Just like that, his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you down into the cold water, earning him a squeal just before you crashed together below the surface.

...and washing up on the sandy shore in each other's arms, salty lips capturing one another.

"I'm covered in sand," you murmured against Finnick's lips.

He gave you another kiss before pulling away. "It's okay," he said, pecking your lips again. "I'll help you wash off in the shower when we get back." And then sent you a stomach-flipping grin.

Even though you wouldn't trade those memories for the world, if you had known your life would soon depend on the ability to swim, you would have paid much more attention to the lessons.

Finnick stood closely beside you, his trident digging into the dirt as he gripped it tightly in case of an attack. He had noticed your drifted attention, observing the way your eyes stared at the rippling water, like death was lurking just beneath the surface waiting to drag you down to the murky depths.

He could protect you from most things in the arena, but fear was something entirely different. A trident couldn't defeat the darkness in your mind.

A hand slid onto your lower back, rubbing gentle strokes to gain your attention. Your gaze tore from the blinding blue and settled onto Finnick's face beside you, watching his mouth curve into a light smile. You knew the silent words he was trying to convey: 'You're okay, sweetheart. I've got you.'

For a fleeting moment, the anxiety had disappeared. How could anything ever go wrong with Finnick by your side? The corners of your mouth quirked, preparing to send him a smile in response. But it never came. Something new had caught your attention. The woman by the water was no longer singing.

Wiress had been murdered.

The second Katniss let her arrow fly into Gloss' chest, everything around you seemed to explode into action. Anything that could go wrong would go wrong—Murphy's Law. And it did.

The Careers had initiated an attack.

Charging forward from the waterside was Cashmere, determined to avenge her brother's death. Instinct quickly kicked in and the spear in your hand was sent barrelling through the air and into her chest. As you watched her body slump to the ground, an enraged yell came from the side.

Finnick was fighting Brutus.

With your only weapon lodged within Cashmere's chest, aiding Finnick was impossible. Enobaria revealed herself beside Brutus, displaying her vicious fangs and throwing a dagger that sliced a small cut across Finnick's shoulder. Though the wound was minor, your heart lurched as he cried out in pain.

Before a single thought in your brain could form, your legs were moving. Not towards Finnick, but after Enobaria. Remember who the real enemy is—screw that. Finnick could have died. Your Finnick. He called out your name, his voice hoarse and frayed, but you continued on, hatred fuelling each step. It seemed Katniss and Johanna had the same idea, following behind you with their weapons bared.

Salt water sprayed onto your face, but you paid it no attention. Nor did you notice as the jungle surrounding the island began to blur into one overwhelming hue of green. Only when your body was thrown to the harsh rocky terrain did you realise what was happening.

The Cornucopia had started to spin.

Nothing could compare to the terror you felt as gravity's merciless force dragged your body toward the violent waves surging against the rocks. Just as your lower legs breached the edge, a hand grabbed onto your own. Katniss. She too was hanging onto Johanna whose only lifeline was an axe buried in the rocks.

A moment—that was all you were given to scan your surroundings. Supplies and sharp-edged weapons were flying everywhere. White water was spraying into the air. Finnick, who was thirty feet away, was gripping onto a rock ledge whilst keeping Beetee from sliding into the furious waves. His head turned to the side and even from a great distance, your eyes met.

It was at that moment you knew, you just knew the odds weren't going to be in your favour. God forbid you lived a simple happy life with the man you loved, days spent together on a calm beach. God forbid the Gamemakers gave you one last chance to be in his arms. God forbid you survived.

And with that sudden realisation, the universe, sick as it was, decided it was time.

Your hand began slipping from Katniss's; an unseen tear fell from your eye, and you smiled. A smile of goodbye sent to the love of your life. His face contorted into one of agony, lips moving but you couldn't hear his voice over the roaring waves. Still, you knew exactly what he was shouting.

"NO! NO!"

There was nothing he could do but watch your body disappear into the waves, repeating over and over "no, no, no," and praying his cruel eyes had deceived him. They hadn't.

Dark blue was in every direction you looked. The undertow tossed and rolled your body like a ragdoll in a washing machine and despite your attempts to swim, the surface only seemed to be slipping further and further out of your reach. Darkness engulfed you, so thick that you couldn't tell which way was up or down. That was when the panic set in.

Your arms and legs thrashed frantically, struggling against the water's force, desperate to reach safety or an air pocket. Cold water flooded your throat as you gasped uncontrollably. You screamed as every attempt at breathing felt like fire burning in your lungs. Finnick. Where was he? Where were you? What was happening? Why wouldn't it stop?

Thoughts submerged your mind in terror, and you were powerless to stop them. All you could do was feel. Pain. Fire. Burning

At some point, the Cornucopia had ceased its spinning and your body came to a rest in the water. An eerie calm suddenly washed over you; a sense of clarity stilled your wild movements. This was the end. There was no future. No hope. The world above wasn't yours to call home anymore. You now belonged to the sea.

Of course, your water-logged mind had forgotten that home was where the heart was, and your heart was still beating... above the surface, in the aching chest of another.

Tendrils of hair floated around your face like fronds of seaweed. Rays of sunlight penetrated the surface, turning the surroundings a vibrant sparkly blue. As you sank further down, the water, now a comfortable lukewarm, cradled you in its embrace. It felt safe, like being in Finnick's arms again. Like home.

You gazed at the sun's rays; they looked beautiful. You felt beautiful. But time was running out and the bright light soon began shrouding your entire vision, though not before you witnessed a dark figure dive beneath the waves.

**********

Finnick loved the ocean. He spent most days in District Four down by the beach, swimming, spearfishing, and watching the sun rise and set on the blue horizon. If he believed in reincarnation, he would have imagined himself to be a lionfish or dolphin in his past life, living in an underwater world, free from tyranny and oppression. He loved the ocean.

But that love was incomparable to what he felt for you. So, when he dove into the rocky waters to save you and felt the currents fighting against him, he determined there was nothing he hated more than the ocean. Not as he watched its strong grip drag your motionless body further down below him.

Your back had just touched the soft seabed when he swam far enough down to envelope you in his embrace. He should have swum you back to the surface immediately, but in his distressed state, he couldn't help but foolishly stare at your lifeless appearance. Your skin was blue. It's just the water's colour, he told himself. Your eyes were closed. She's just asleep. Your neck didn't pulse under his touch. She's... She's...

He had no justification for that. Feet planted firmly on the sandy floor, he propelled both himself and you back up to the surface. As Finnick paddled back to the Cornucopia, the others reached down and helped lift your limp body onto the rocks.

"Is she...?"

"Peeta," Katniss quietly reprimanded him.

Finnick paid them no attention. He said nothing but trauma screamed in his eyes. His breathing was ragged and his hands were trembling as he frantically checked your pulse again—in both your wrists and your neck; he even pressed his ear to your chest. All he heard was the waves lapping against the rocks.

"No," he whispered again.

It seemed to be all he could say anymore. No. No, this couldn't be happening. You were just standing beside him a few minutes ago; your eyes were just looking into his. However much he tried to deny reality, it didn't seem to make it any less true. You were gone.

He choked out a rough determined breath, interlocked his hands over your chest, and began pressing repeatedly over your heart. Wet strands of tangled hair were strewn across the rocks like dead seaweed. The usual soft pink accompanying your cheeks was nowhere to be seen, devoid of any life.

"Come on, sweetheart," he muttered before pulling down your chin to blow air into your lungs. The kiss of life. And when nothing happened as he pulled away, he restarted the chest compressions. "Oh, don't do this to me," he begged, voice breaking. "Don't do this. Breathe."

Any moment now. Any moment, your eyes would flutter open, the colour would return to your glowing skin, and your heart would beat with life beneath his hands. Your lips would whisper his name and he would pull you into his arms, where he would keep you safe until the end of time.

"Breathe."

Thirty compressions. Two breaths. Nothing. He did it again. Thirty compressions. Two breaths. Silence. Maybe he should've just ripped his heart out and replaced yours with his own. Death would come for him within seconds but hearing something beating inside your chest would've made the sacrifice worth it.

Life would flash before his eyes and your beaming smile would be the last thing he'd get to see. His last thought would be of relief that you were alive.

Johanna rested a tentative hand on Finnick's shoulder. "Finnick, she's—"

"No, she's not!" he exclaimed, continuing his movements. "She's fine. Aren't you, baby? You're fine." He cupped your jaw, his thumb stroking your soft skin before he pressed his lips to yours and blew twice. "You're fine."

The golden bangle around his wrist glimmered in the sunshine as he pressed on your ribcage. All he had to do was keep you alive until Plutarch rescued everyone. One simple task and he failed.

"Finnick, we have to go," someone said. Who? He didn't know nor care.

Leave me, he wanted to say. Leave me here to die. Let the Careers mutilate my body, take my life, my last breath, but let it be by her side.

Something cracked beneath his palms and he knew one of your ribs had fractured. His arms stilled, half-expecting you to cry out in pain but then he remembered. And with that sickening crack came a devastating realisation—you really were gone.

A sob erupted from his throat and his head fell to your chest, drenching your already-soaked wetsuit with hot tears. Everything else seemed to disappear. The arena, the Careers who could attack again at any moment, the spectators who were avidly watching. Everything.

It was just him and you. He didn't care that his screams and deafening sobs could bring unwanted attention or jeopardise the group's safety. Any tribute with half a mind would know crossing him in such a state would be a fatal flaw. Even if they did, it wouldn't matter. Nothing mattered. Life no longer had meaning.

Finnick pulled your lifeless body onto his lap and cradled you protectively in his arms, lightly rocking back and forth. His forehead rested against your own, cold and damp. You always were the cold one, needing his touch to light a fire beneath your skin. He loved having you rely on him for warmth, but not like this.

"Come back to me, baby, please," he begged almost inaudibly. Tears were running down his cheeks as he brushed pieces of hair away from your face. His lips were on yours once more, heartbroken and painfully delicate; not to fill your lungs with air, but to fill your heart with his love in the hopes it would be enough to bring it back to life. "Don't leave me."

Pleas, prayers, begs, and wishes flew past his lips, over and over. And then they stopped and Finnick simply stared. Silence fell across the entire arena. The birds didn't chirp, the other tributes remained quiet, and the trees stood still. Even the water had calmed, resembling a perfectly flat mirror.

Finnick only had three words left on his tongue. Three final words to give you, wherever it was that you were. He slowly leaned down, squeezed his stinging eyes shut, and pressed a long farewell kiss to your forehead. His eyes remained closed as he parted from your skin, unable to take another look as he whispered his final goodbye.

"I love you."

And then, for the first time since he had rescued you from the blue depths, he felt his heart beating again. Just like yours was.

**********

There was a voice, distant yet reassuring—a lifeline to consciousness. Black was all there was. Coldness was all that was felt. It was desolate. But that voice... that voice was so anguished yet so familiar and encouraging that it lit a fire inside your chest, warming you from the inside out.

In the distance of the dark void was a figure, their body made entirely out of a pulsating golden light. Each word the voice spoke enhanced the light's brightness. "Come... me, please..." Brighter. "Don't leave..." And brighter.

The light was warm and comforting, just like the voice attached to it. Whoever's voice it was that brought the light resonated deep in your mind, tugging at the strings within your heart.

Your heart.

The thumping in your chest was weak, almost non-existent, but it was still there. Though it seemed time was running out. Pitch-black darkness outweighed the golden light ten-to-one; you could feel its cold breath creeping onto your back. So, you started running towards the figure. Sprinting. Until all that surrounded you was golden.

"I love you."

Water. At first, it came trickling out in two fluid streams from the sides of your mouth. Then suddenly, it was spraying into the air as choked coughs forced the liquid from your burning lungs. Light flooded your vision—not golden and inviting, but vivid and overwhelming.

There was something warm beneath your legs, against your arm, rubbing at your back, holding you in an upright position. While you heaved, dry-retched, and gasped, that soothing warmth remained.

As your airways began to clear and the expulsion of water ceased, your half-lidded eyes rolled around the area. Still dazed and disoriented, you struggled to make out what surrounded you. There was immense rippling blue, vibrant hues of green in the distance, dark rough grey beneath you, and elongated blobs of colour that stood a few feet away.

"Just–just keep breathing, sweetheart." That voice. The one belonging to the figure of light that brought you back. It was madly repeating the same words over and over. "You're okay", "Deep breaths", and "You're alive."

Shaky fingers brushed the stray wet strands of hair from your face. So warm. With the little energy you had, your head turned to seek out the golden light again. And you found it.

The blinding sun shining down reflected off his bronze hair, turning it a divine golden hue. His brows were raised and scrunched together as though he couldn't possibly believe what he was seeing. Deep lines were etched into his tear-streaked skin, evidence of his previous turmoil. Those sea-green eyes stared at you, afraid that if he so much as blinked, you would fall lifeless in his arms once more.

"You're here," he whispered.

Finnick. YourFinnick. Your light.

When your eyes met, a splitting grin lit up his face, made up of an inconceivable amount of raw emotion. You weren't sure what to do—smile, laugh, cry, kiss him? Your mind was scrambled, overwhelmed with love for the beautiful golden-haired man in front of you.

Without warning, your face scrunched up and the tears began flowing. You weren't sure why you were crying. Maybe it was because you had just been brought back from the brink of death; maybe it was because you couldn't believe someone actually cared so deeply about you.

Finnick cradled your face in his hand. "It's okay," his voice trembled, tears now cascading down his cheeks. His smile, however, never disappeared. "You're okay. You're safe now. I'm not letting you go."

He took your face into two large hands, brought you to his lips, and pressed a tender kiss to each tear that rolled over your skin. One of your hands rested over his; the other was placed against his chest, feeling it rise and fall so you could synchronise your breaths.

His arms moved to pull you tightly against him, almost like he was trying to merge your body with his. Or perhaps, it was your soul. You didn't care about the pain aching in one of your ribs. You wanted to tell him that his soul was already intertwined with your own, but words couldn't describe the sentiment as profoundly as you felt it.

In the simplest of terms your water-logged brain could muster, you whispered, "You're my light, Finnick."

Brows scrunched together, he looked down at you, fighting back the urge to start sobbing in your arms. If he had been anywhere else, if there wasn't an entire country watching, he would've gone on for hours, explaining how stupidly, selfishly, and incredibly in love with you he was.

But he couldn't do that. Not now. So, he placed his hand over the one you had resting on his chest and readjusted its position. He could feel the thumping, even through your palm.

Your eyes were full of emotion as you stared up into his. You already knew what his next words were going to be and for the first time since you were thrown into the water from the Cornucopia, you smiled.

Rhythmically, your hand and his pulsed together. Finnick's gaze flickered across your face and he grinned. "You're my heart."

4K notes · View notes

aperrywilliams · 2 months ago

Text

Tin Wedding (Spencer Reid x ExWife!Reader)

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Author Masterlist | Event Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x ExWife!Reader.

Summary: You've become friends with Penelope Garcia over the past year, and after much insistence from her, you agreed to visit her at her office one day. What you didn't expect was to run into your ex-husband there. And surely you didn't expect that he - Spencer Reid - is Penelope's coworker.

Word Count: 7.2k (please, stop me!)

Warnings: Yes. I set this one as +16. Mention of Reader being drunk. Curses and some strong words. Mention of sex - oral (m&f). Nothing detailed. IDFK anything about the US marriage and divorce system.

A/N: 2nd Fic for the "We are not gonna make it" writing challenge I was hosting during October with my sis @babymetaldoll. I'm so sorry for the delay, but life has crushed me these past weeks.

---------------

The ding of the elevator signals you are already on the sixth floor. The doors open, and the first thing you see are people going and coming. It's the bustling of a lively office at noon. But this is not just any office; this is the FBI headquarters in Quantico. You never thought you would be in a place like this in your life, but here you are after your friend Penelope convinced you to visit her at work after insisting for weeks.

BAU - Behavioural Analysis Unit reads the glass doors in front of you. This is the place. Looking at the scattered desks on the open floor, you look for a clue that leads you to Penelope.

People walk past you without paying much attention. Maybe you should ask for help. But before you can decide to do so, a voice behind your back breaks you out of your thoughts.

"Can I help you?"

You know that voice. You're sure of that. But wait. It can't be—not after years of not hearing it.

You slowly turn around just to confirm that your suspicions are correct. Standing in front of you is a curious Spencer Reid, who pales when he sees your face. He remembers you, too.

"Oh God, Spencer?"

A stupid question with an obvious answer, but that doesn't take away the surprise of coming face to face with someone you never thought you'd see again in your life.

"(Y/N)? Wow..."

Time has passed, you tell yourself. Spencer looks more grown up. His hair is a little shorter, and he doesn't look so skinny anymore; it even seems there's some muscle under the white shirt he sports. Some stubble adorns his face, and dark circles can be seen under his eyes. But his beautiful eyes are the same as you remember them from when you first met in Pasadena.

"What are you doing here?" You ask, still shocked. Spencer's expression seems pretty much the same as yours.

"Uh. Well, I work here," he explains after clearing his throat.

A Caltech's genius working with the FBI? You wouldn't have expected it. But then again, you didn't expect to cross paths with him after all this time. "And what are you doing here?"

Good point. Why did you come? Oh, yes. Penelope Garcia.

"I'm here to see a friend," you mumble. Spencer's confused look changes to what? Disappointment? Of course, you're not there for him. It's stupid ever to think that, considering you haven't talked since the day you said goodbye and parted ways in that tiny apartment you shared in Pasadena.

And then an awkward silence. What are the chances that after so long, you were going to meet Spencer? And if you're wondering how long, we're talking about ten years when you were both pursuing your degrees at Caltech. In your case, it was the first one because Spencer was already in his third PhD when you met.

Before you can say something else, the one and only Penelope Garcia burst into the room, looking for you.

"There you are! Why didn't you call me when you got here?"

Totally unbeknown to the tense silence, she steps in front of you and hugs you. You can feel Spencer's confused look on you. "I'm glad you made it! We have so much to talk about."

"Garcia is your friend?" Spencer asks, gaze on you, and it's when you realize how weird the situation is. Penelope turns to him, an eyebrow furrowed.

"Of course, I'm her friend. And she came to see me," Garcia scoffs until she realizes something. "Wait a minute. For what reason would you ask that?"

Spencer clears his throat. He doesn't know what your opinion is about people knowing that fact.

"We know each other," you explain to her before asking. "How do you know Spencer?"

"No way! What a coincidence!" Garcia chirps. The exclamation raises the interest of the people entering the bullpen. Some of them approach to where you all are. "Reid? We work together!"

What were the chances of something like that happening to you, you wondered, as Spencer continued to stare at you, his eyes never leaving yours.

"What's happening here, baby girl?" A toned man asks Garcia, who can't contain her excitement.

"Oh, you wouldn't believe it," she announces as two women join the conversation.

Garcia briefly explains to the audience who you are and that she just found out that you both know Spencer, too. After the first impression, she proceeds to introduce you to those there: Derek, JJ, and Emily. From the corner of your eye, you can see Spencer downcasting his look at their curious glances at him.

"So you guys know each other?" JJ asks.

You both nod at the same time as Spencer mutters, "Caltech."

"Ah, fellow grads," JJ assumes. And in part, she is right. Indeed, you met while you were starting your master's degree and subsequent doctorate in the same area as Spencer.

"Kind of," you admit, seeing Spencer's cheeks flush and feeling yours burn too. The guy who was presented as Derek Morgan has a smirk plastered on his face.

"College sweethearts?" Morgan asks in a teasing tone. And he is kind of right, too. You lock eyes with Spencer, and you can't tell if he did or wants to say to his colleagues what you really were at that time. But before you both can even think of saying anything, Garcia's eyes widen in recognition.

"No! Wait a minute! Did you go to college together? You said the other day that you-" she starts connecting information, and you start to freak out internally. Before you can stop her, Garcia blurts. "Oh! Spencer is your ex-husband? You have to be kidding me!"

Shit. How did she figure it out so quickly? Sure, it might be your fault for sharing details about your college love life with her on a night filled with alcohol, but how could you have known she was already acquainted with him? You were careful not to mention any names or specifics, yet here you are.

"Wait, what?" Morgan's smirk turns to jaw slack in astonishment. There is no difference between JJ's and Emily's reactions. Spencer's face is flushed, and so is yours.

"Someone is going to say anything?" Emily asks, bouncing her eyes between you and Spencer.

"Uh, well—" you start, giving Spencer an apologetic look, who returns you an awkward tight-lip smile.

"Yeah. We were married," he confirms.

"When we were at college," you add.

You can feel the heaviness in the air and the mid-surprised, mid-incredulous looks from the people around you. Morgan is the first to break the silence.

"Damn it, pretty boy. What a story you had hidden from us," he says, patting Spencer's shoulder. JJ - the quietest one until now - senses how uncomfortable you and Spencer are with all the attention.

"Guys, why don't we give them a minute?"

After a moment of consideration, Emily seconds the motion. "Yeah, Morgan, would you help me with something?"

"Su- sure," Morgan agrees, still confused but following Emily nonetheless.

"But—" Penelope is still trying to understand the whole situation and has many questions she wants to ask.

"Come on, Garcia. I'm sure (Y/N) will find you when she is ready," JJ encourages, looking at you. That's when you get out of your daze and nod.

"Yes. Yeah. I'll text you, Penelope."

And just like that, the same way people surrounded you just seconds ago, now it's just you, Spencer, and an awkward silence.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know you worked here. I didn't know you were Penelope's coworker, and—" you start to apologize.

"No. Don't. It's not your fault," Spencer rushes to speak.

"I shouldn't have told her about - about," you trail off.

"About you having an ex-husband?" Spencer supplies, and you shyly nod.

"Believe me, it's not a thing I tell everyone I meet, but Penelope, well, she-" you try to find the right words. Spencer nods in understanding.

"Yeah, she can be pretty convincing when she wants to know something."

Another halo of silence passes between you until it's Spencer who breaks it this time.

"So, how have you been? I mean, it's been a while." You nod, still uncomfortable with the situation but just as curious as you assume Spencer is.

"Yeah, it's been a while," you confirm. "Good, all good on my end. Working and living. What about you?"

"Me? Good. Working here at the BAU."

"Cool."

Cool? What does that mean?

A sharp 'Reid' is heard from behind you both, making you turn to the source. A well-dressed man with a serious gaze is looking at Spencer from an office threshold. "Can you come, please?" the man adds. Spencer nods quickly. "Sure. I'll be there in a second, Hotch." The answer seems to satisfy the man, so he nods and returns inside.

Spencer turns to you again. "Uh. I - uh-" he stutters, motioning where the man called Hotch was a second ago.

"Yeah. I have to go, too." You have to, actually, but you don't think you can face Penelope or anyone else right now, for that matter. "It was nice to see you." As you are about to run away subtly, Spencer calls your name. Stopping in your tracks, you turn, and your eyes make contact with his again.

"Would you - uh. Would you like to grab a coffee with me sometime?"

It catches you off guard, but you only assume he's being polite. You think you should return the gesture.

"Sure. Why not," you say, giving him a little smile. "Now I have to go. Bye, Spencer."

And with that, you resume your escape to the elevator.

----------

From the moment he saw you at the BAU, Spencer has never been the same. He never imagined he would see you again, especially under those circumstances. Spencer was so astonished he wasn't even able to start a decent conversation or even ask for your number after inviting you to a coffee.

Also distressed about the interrogation he knew his colleagues would subject to him, Spencer wanders through the BAU halls as if he were not in the present. And, in fact, he is not. After seeing you, he has only been able to think about you and the years you both spent in Pasadena.

A smile tugs the corners of his mouth every time one of those memories comes to him.

"Okay, pretty boy, spill," Derek prompts when he sees Spencer in the kitchen two days after your encounter.

"Uh? What are you talking about?" he turns, confused, to see Derek looking at him with a frown and arms over his chest.

"Come on! You know what I'm talking about. About the pretty lady, Garcia's friend, who happens to be your ex-wife?"

Spencer huffs through his nostrils.

"I already told you. We met in college, and we were together until we graduated," Spencer says nonchalantly as if it's normal. He tries, at least. Morgan scoffs at his attempt.

"Reid. You married her. You just can't tell me you 'were together' as you're talking about any other relationship. She was important; what happened?"

Morgan remembers well a few years ago when Spencer told him about a great love he had while at Caltech and how, from time to time, those memories would come to plague his head. It wasn't hard for Morgan to connect the dots and assume you were the person Spencer was referring to.

Spencer sighs thoughtfully. "We ended it by mutual agreement. We both knew our career paths were going to be incompatible, and we both had so many dreams to fulfill. Our greatest act of love was letting each other go. At least that's how I saw it for a long time."

"But you regretted it at some point," Morgan adds, and Spencer nods. "Why didn't you try to find her then?"

"I didn't want to be selfish. What if she already had her life going perfectly, and I was just going to show like a kicked puppy? It wasn't fair for her."

"Man, I get it, but what about now? You found each other again. Can it be a kind of sign or something." Spencer glances at Derek with an incredulous look.

"Are you listening to yourself? You sound like Garcia," Spencer grumbles, making Derek laugh.

"Yeah. Definitely, it's something my baby girl would say. But, truly speaking, Reid, why not take a chance?"

Spencer huffs in frustration. "I - I don't know anything about her in these years! I didn't even ask for her number that day. I was frozen on the spot!"

"And that will stop you?"

A satisfactory smirk appears on Derek's face when Spencer stays silent, contemplating his options.

---------

Not wanting to talk about the encounter with anyone, you write to Penelope, apologizing for having to leave suddenly that day. She responds everything is fine and doesn't even ask you why, to which you are tremendously grateful.

But as the days pass by, you know you have to talk to her at some point, so you invite her to come over one afternoon.

You have been thinking a lot and rationalizing everything that happened. Of course, there was always a possibility of crossing paths with Spencer someday, but turning it into reality is different. So you conclude all your nerves were out of the shock of something unprovable happening, not because seeing Spencer after ten years made you fall off your balance.

With that in mind, you were ready to talk to Penelope.

Once she gets to your apartment, you first apologize for leaving that day and explain how you got frozen after the unexpected encounter. Garcia tells you not to worry and even says she is sorry for telling everyone about her discovery without any filter.

"It's just- I was so impressed. I couldn't help it!" she explains, and you nod in understanding.

"It's okay. I guess no one expected something like that."

"Right? But I have to ask. How did Spencer Reid become your husband? I mean, you told me about your ex-husband and all, but I'm sorry, I can't picture Spencer even talking to a girl without stuttering, less asking for marriage, and then divorcing? It's beyond me."

It catches your attention how she talks about him. Although you met Spencer when you both were very young, knowing how shy he was, over time, you managed to beat his barrier and meet a wonderful man full of charisma and not so sheepish after all. Has he never shown that side to anyone else in all these years?

"Why so much interest in my marriage? It's been a decade," you ask Penelope, and her scoff sounds a mix of obvious and disbelief.

"Honey, it's unbelievable Doctor Loving Reid has kept THAT information to himself for so long. So now that it is out, it does pick my full interest. Spill. What happened?"

You shrug your shoulder. "It's like I said the first time I told you. We were young, a whole life ahead. Neither he nor I wanted to cut each other's wings."

"But you loved each other!" Penelope complains with an adorable pout. You have known this woman for what? Less than a year? And she seems brokenhearted about something that happened to you and Spencer ten years ago. She's right, though. You and Spencer were mad in love. Unlike what people have believed for years, your marriage was not a result of a wild night of alcohol and passion in Pasadena. You were both quite sober when you went to court that day. Both even had written down the vows you professed in front of the judge- yours on a piece of paper and Spencer in his brain, of course.

"If it's any consolation, the year we were married, we were very happy," you tell her, fondly remembering that time. Garcia rolls her eyes.

"Well, exactly that's what I mean, miss. If you were so happy, why end it like that?"

The only answer you can think of is 'it's complicated,' but that will surely increase her curiosity.

"We wanted the best for each other, even if it meant being apart. As good rational beings, we weighed our options, and the sensible thing to do was to end it."

Putting it in that way, Penelope can believe it. Having known Spencer for years, she knows for a fact his big brain is capable of analyzing every probability of every possible outcome. What seems incredible to her is how feelings - how love - can be rationalized like this.

A ding from your phone pauses your talk with Penelope. You glance at the device and see a text from an unknown caller.

'Hi. I'm Spencer. I stupidly didn't ask you for your number, so after cursing myself for the past few days, I had to find it out. Don't get mad, please. I would really like to grab a coffee with you if you are up to it. If you don't want to, I understand. And if you don't want me to contact you again, just say the words, and I'll stop. But I really hope you say yes. SR.'

Okay. This is unexpected. Indeed, you remember not having exchanged numbers with Spencer, and you didn't give it much thought either, assuming his invitation had been out of pure kindness. But here you are, reading the message and feeling an emotion you can't describe. Nostalgia, maybe?

You narrow your eyes to Garcia, who immediately suspects who sent you a text.

"Before you ask, I didn't give him your number!" she defends as you breathe a deep sigh.

"He's asking me out for coffee," you tell Garcia, and she can't help but squeal.

"Will you say yes?"

"I don't know. Is it a good idea to get back in touch after all these years?" you muse more for yourself than her.

"Honey, only you know what's best for you, but if you ask me, I remember you telling me after you both split up, you were left with a lot of 'what ifs' in your head, and some of them are still floating around. Maybe this could help clear them up once and for all."

Penelope has a point. But now, you have a dilemma in the form of a coffee invitation.

---------

It's just a coffee. Don't overthink it.

You have been telling yourself that for a while as you walk to the coffee shop where you agreed to meet Spencer today.

He is just being nice.

Sure, after ten years of no contact, this sudden encounter in the FBI - with all his colleagues there - maybe pressured him to invite you to grab a coffee.

Still lost in your thoughts, you don't realize you are already there. After taking a deep breath, you step inside and look around. You spot him in a booth in the corner, back to you. A smile tugs at your lips, remembering all the coffee dates you both had back then. It was your thing. Hours and hours talking about everything and anything until the owner asked you to leave because they needed to close.

"Hey," you greet, making Spencer look up to you.

"Hi," he returns, a smile plastered on his face. "Thanks for accepting my invitation," he gestures for you to sit.

"Sure. Why I wouldn't?" After taking off your coat, you sit in front of him in the booth.

"Yeah. I mean, we haven't talked in ten years. And then we see each other at my work, and- well, it's kind of weird, I guess?"

Weird is an understatement, you think.

"You are right. Kind of it is."

You notice there are two coffee cups on the table. Spencer follows your line of sight.

"Uh- I had ordered already," he points to the coffee in front of you. "I don't know if you have changed your order, though."

"Thanks," you mumble appreciatively. "I haven't changed it, actually."

"Great!"

You try to gauge his expression. Is he nervous? Anxious? Because you are.

"Spencer, if you are uncomfortable, we can just go home. There is no—" You can't finish the sentence before Spencer cuts you off.

"No. No, I'm not. Please, don't think that."

"Okay," you concede. "I won't. But you need to be honest with me, okay?"

"Of course," Spencer agrees.

"You felt obligated to invite me here after what happened?" You bluntly ask, and Spencer's eyes widen.

"What? No, of course not," Spencer immediately denies. "I really wanted to see you. It's just that-" he hesitates. You tilt your head, waiting for him to continue. "I just didn't know if it was right, you know? I mean, we never reach out, and then it happens. We never agreed-" he trails off. And you know exactly what he's talking about.

Back then, when you decided to go separate ways, Spencer asked you what would happen if you met again in the future, and you shook your head, saying it probably wouldn't happen. So yes, you never talked about the possibility, and Spencer understood he should never contact you, and so did you.

"I know. We didn't," you recognize, regret slipping in your voice. "I guess I didn't want to think about the possibility back then."

You two know there are things you left out and left unsaid the last night you were together in Pasadena, but you don't think it's a good idea to say them now—not when this is supposed to be a friendly reunion between exes.

"So, since when have you been working in DC?" Spencer asks after you tell him about your work career on the west side.

"Almost two years," you admit.

Two years living in the same city. Spencer wonders if Garcia hadn't met you, he would have ever seen you again.

Your professional career has certainly been prolific; Spencer can tell after the stories you have been recounting. Years of experience and important jobs, just as you had dreamed when you were in college. These are the same dreams you shared with Spencer during the nights of studying and those where there was everything else but studying.

"I thought you were going to pursue academics. When did the FBI happen?" you ask after saying it's enough of talking about yourself.

"I thought that too. And I did it for a while. Then I met Gideon. He - uh, he showed me what the BAU had been doing, and I knew it was my place to be."

Spencer fondly tells you about his early years working as a profiler and how much he has learned. It seems that, like you, he has found his professional calling.

Two hours and three coffees later, you are both laughing about the weird and funny things you have seen in the past years. It feels good, and much of the initial nervousness has dissipated. But there is one topic you both have actively avoided: romantic relationships.

You are curious about it, and Spencer is, too, but neither of you wants to be the one to mention it first. Spencer is who breaks first.

"Are we going to talk about - about that? I feel we have been dancing about the topic, but I don't know if you want to."

You can't help but snort out of being caught and for the subject itself. You are sure your almost nonexistent love life is enough to make anyone cry or laugh.

"I'm still that obvious?"

"You have your tells," Spencer shrugs. You raise an eyebrow.

"I have my tells? What about you, doctor? You have been bouncing your leg the same way you did the day you defended your engineering PhD dissertation."

Spencer's eyes widen. "You still remember that?"

The insinuation of you forgetting that day makes you scoff.

"Of course I do! I tried everything to try to calm your nerves. Do you remember what I did, and actually, it worked?" Spencer's cheeks redden because he remembers.

You won't tell the details, but you recall, as clear as the day, how you helped him to 'decompress.'

"Okay, okay. Guilty as charged."

"So, what do you want to know?" You ask, still not fully ready but resigned, leaning back in your seat and crossing your arms over your chest.

"Are you with someone?" Spencer asks, and you gasp, feigning surprise.

"No beating around the bushes, uh?"

Spencer's cheeks flush, and he can't help it. "If it's out the line, you don't need to answer."

Seeing him flustered and biting his lower lip makes your heart do flip-flops. It's something you haven't felt in a long time—ten years, to be exact.

"If you had asked me a month ago, I should have said yes."

Indeed, you had a boyfriend until a month ago when his insistence on moving in with you was too much to handle, and his frustrated self decided to say a lot of awful things when you said no to him.

Some people would say you have commitment issues, and maybe you have. But in all honesty, until this day, there is no one you have felt secure enough to take that step.

It's ironic, considering you already have a marriage under your belt.

"I'm sorry," Spencer mumbles.

"No. Don't be. It wasn't meant to be."

'Like I used to think about us,' you want to add, but you refrain. Instead, you explain in not much detail every failed relationship you have had. Spencer listens intently, his heart aching to think of how a part of you might have been broken with each failed relationship. He hasn't done any better, though.

"And that's all. As you can see, there is nothing too exciting to remark," you chuckle to lighten the mood. "Tell me about you. There is a Mrs. Reid waiting at home?"

Spencer snorts, shaking his head. "No. There's no Mrs. Reid. The only one who has held the title has been you," he says with a look that makes your breath hitch in your throat. What is it? Longing?

"Wow. I feel honored," you tease, trying to hide the heat rising to your cheeks.

Spencer tells you about the few relationships he's had over the years. In his own opinion, none of them are very meaningful. When you ask him why, he doesn't hesitate to answer. "This job not only consumes my time, but also a lot of me as a person. Not everyone understands that."

He would like to say no one has ever been so important as to make him doubt continuing to work in what he does. The only person who ever made him doubt was you. But instead of saying it, he prefers to end with a "I guess that's why no one has stayed."

Listening to him talk is like listening to yourself, trying to minimize the fact that professional success is possibly one of the main reasons why other parts of your personal life have never flourished.

It was your choice. You both decided to make it that way. But sometimes you wonder if...

"Do you think we made a mistake?"

Spencer's question gets you out of your thoughts.

You look at him, baffled. "What?"

"Do you think we shouldn't have broken up? That I shouldn't have left?"

You pondered his question for a second. It has to do with how you felt at that time? Or does it have to do with how you felt after or even now?

"Honestly? I don't know, Spencer." A resigned sigh leaves your lips. "I always wanted to think it was the right thing to do."

"You never regretted it?" He asks you, and you shrug, not knowing much to say. Instead, you opt to ask him the question back.

"Did you?"

"Yeah. I did," he admits. "Sometimes I still do."

A heavy silence settles between you. The admission that you both had doubts about the drastic decision you made almost ten years ago is difficult to take. It unfurls a whole new set of questions whose answers you are not sure you are ready to hear or say. But it's only fair he knows your truth as you know his now.

"For what is worth, me too. I regret it. More often than I would like to admit."

Spencer's heart starts to beat faster; breath hitches in his throat for a second.

He tentatively reaches out to rest his hand on yours. You watch the action and think you know what it means. His eyes are hopeful. Something you'd like to mirror in your own, but the uncertainty is there, and you can't help it.

"Spencer, no. Please, don't." You try to articulate but not take your hand away from his. "I wish I could tell you I'm willing to try- to try to make up for lost time, but I can't. Even though it may not seem like it, we're strangers to each other, and I'm not in a place to even think about- you know."

Spencer gives a little squeeze to your hand, nodding.

"I know. And I'm not asking you for us to redo our story and start from where we ended. No. But I would love to get to know you again and be your friend."

"Friends?" You ask, brows furrowed. He smiles.

"Yeah. First and foremost, you were always my best friend. My person. Even if we never get back together as a couple, and we don't have to, I don't want to lose you again."

You take a moment to think about his words. What would be the harm? You're at a stage in your life where you don't want to live thinking about those things you wish you had done and didn't. The things you might have done differently. Why not put reason aside for a moment and just be?

You squeeze his hand back, a sign of yes; you're willing to get to know the Spencer in front of you.

---------

Three months have passed since your conversation with Spencer at the coffee shop. You both agreed to reconnect as friends, which has led to many coffee meetings, lunches, dinners, movie nights, and walks in the park. And to say your heart feels full and happy would be an understatement. You've realized how much of the Spencer you met in Pasadena still exists, and the connection that once brought you together has revitalized and is stronger than ever.

Neither of you has wanted to rush things, and so far, you're both happy to be able to spend time together.

Spencer has also opened the door for you to the BAU team, which has been his family for eight years now. In addition to the bond you already had with Penelope, you now regularly attend the girls' night she hosts with JJ and Emily. You've also gotten to know Derek and Hotch better and understand why Spencer considers them like his older brother and father figure, respectively. You've also become a favorite of David Rossi, who doesn't take no for an answer every time he invites you to one of his dinners.

Like tonight, where you find yourself vividly chatting with the girls in a corner of Rossi's backyard.

"No way I could have passed Dynamics and Mechanics without Spencer," you acknowledge when you're talking about the most challenging subjects you had in college.

"It seems a very interesting topic," Emily jokes, not knowing what the hell you were talking about.

You giggle at the memory, cheeks turning a shade of pink.

"I still remember those afternoons Spencer spent trying to help me memorize the Euler–Lagrange equations and the Hamilton's principle. He made it interesting, if you know what I mean," you wink at them.

"I don't think I want to know," JJ muses. Emily snorts at the suggestion.

"Oh, I definitely want to know what that means," Penelope pipes. You chuckle.

"One night, he made me recite the whole equations with his head buried between my thighs," you confess with a mischievous look.

"Oh my God!" Garcia's jaw goes slack, and Emily's eyes widen in disbelief.

"You fucking kidding me!"

"Definitely, I didn't want to know that," JJ shakes her head.

"Well, I helped him with Applied Computer Science. He had to produce a code to operate a string of relational databases while I was on my knees su-"

"Okay! I get it!" Garcia cuts you off, with her hands in the air, as Emily laughs and JJ groans.

"You asked," you shrug, a smirk on your lips.

"Okay, okay. But hear me out. Since we are talking about college time, and honestly speaking, we all have had someone in college, more or less important, with whom to study or do other things," Emily prefaces, making you giggle. "But from that, to marry, and one year later to divorce? How do you get over something so intense like that?"

You have questioned yourself the same for years.

Looking past JJ's shoulder, you see Spencer talking with Morgan, beer in hand, and you can't help but feel the smile creeping on your face when he looks back and winks at you.

If anything, the past months have made you realize what you had back then with him was unique. But what you're having now? It is as unique as before and better.

"I don't think you get over it. And it's okay; you learn to appreciate it and value the chances life gives you after."

The girls follow your line of sight and share a knowing look. When they see Spencer approaching the group, they collectively decide to go inside the house for a new drink.

"All yours," Garcia whispers to Spencer before going in a bee-line with Emily and JJ.

"What was that?" Spencer asks you with a quirked eyebrow when the girls are out of sight.

You look at him, pretending not to understand.

"I assume they wanted a refill," you say with a shrug. Spencer nods and smiles at you.

"And you don't? Do you want me to get you something?"

"No. I'm fine," you respond to his offer. "Besides, I think I've got my alcohol ration filled for the night."

"If you're done for the night, I can take you home if you want."

That's the Spencer you know, always concerned about your well-being and comfort. You shake your head.

"Not yet. Walk with me, though?" You ask, extending your hand for him to take. Without questioning reasons, Spencer nods and takes your hand. The two of you begin to walk towards the pool area, where the sound of the music coming from the house is less audible.

It's not unusual for you to hold hands now. You trust each other, and it's been an innocent way of showing affection. And while the tension of something more has been building, neither of you has wanted to take the next step yet.

When you stop in the pool deck, Spencer moves to stand in front of you, his free hand reaching to tilt your chin with his index so he can inspect your face for some kind of clue.

"Are you okay?"

You nod as your fingers, from your joined hands, absently play with his. A thorough smile tugs the corners of your mouth. Your eyes admiring Spencer's honey ones in the moonlight.

"More than okay," you admit. But Spencer knows there is more in your mind you're not saying.

"Yeah?"

"Yep." You're stretching this on purpose. A smirk plays on your face. Spencer knows what you are doing.

"Good." His voice is amused. This game was one you both used to play back then, testing each other's curiosity and seeing how long it took the other to demand an answer about what the other was thinking. Usually, you were the one who won since Spencer couldn't stand not knowing.

"Have you grown patient over the years, Dr. Reid?" You ask, entertained. Spencer's laughter fills you with a feeling you thought was dormant inside you, but he has managed to refloat.

Not wanting to prolong his torture, and because you don't have it in you to hold back any longer, you decide to speak.

"I know you remember, but can you tell me the first thing I said to you the day I met you?"

Spencer's eyes narrow in search of the moment you're referring to.

You were in the library, busily searching through the shelves for a book you couldn't find. Spencer could see the stress radiating off of you. After watching you for a few seconds, he decided to walk over to the shelf, and leaning down, he pulled a book from the top shelf before presenting it to you. "Maybe this is the one you're looking for?" And he was right. Your first thought was, 'How did I not see it before?' and then you realized the weirdest thing of all, 'how did he know which was the book you were looking for?' You didn't know the guy, and as far as you knew, he didn't know you either.

Seeing your confusion, he proceeded to explain. "It was an educated guess, seeing as you have Fuller's, Richmond's, and Helbert's there. I assumed you were in Thermodynamics 301 and didn't have Priest's."

Spencer laughs before trying to imitate your voice. "Can I buy you a coffee in appreciation and keep you in my purse for future reference?" You nod, smiling.

"Bold of me for asking that to a stranger, uh?"

"Bold of you for thinking I would ever refuse," Spencer says in a mocking tone to match your joke. You both share a fit of laughter. Once it subsides, your eyes fix on him.

"Bold of me to think I wouldn't fall in love with you after all these years." Your words hit Spencer, whose expression changes from light to serious in a second.

"What?"

"It's like they say. At some point, something has to give. And this is my moment." You pause before continuing. "I can't say I'm sure what's coming, because I'm not. I also don't know if what you've seen of me these past few months is worth enough for you to love me again. But there's one thing I do know. I love you. I loved you, I missed you, and now I've loved you again."

Spencer is speechless. His brain tries to piece together each word you say. You take both his hands in yours, and you can feel them tremble.

"If you'll have me, I want to be the one that stays," you add, hoping your words are good enough to convey your emotions.

You don't know when tears start running down your cheeks. It might be when you see Spencer's glassy eyes.

"I do love you. And I want you to be the one who stays," he rasps before releasing your hands to cup your cheeks with his own, leaning down to whisper, "Let me be the person you want to stay for."

"You already are," you whisper back before closing the distance between you, allowing your lips to meet in a tender, sweet kiss. A new promise and a new beginning for two souls that were meant to be. Thanks to fate, or maybe not. That doesn't matter anymore.

As you kiss, part, whisper sweet nothings to each other, and kiss again, not so far away, are two people watching the scene with satisfied looks on their faces.

"Do you see that, Hot Stuff?" Garcia asks Morgan. A smirk appears on his face.

"Yeah, mama. I see it, clear as the day."

"We did it!" Penelope cheers, whisper-yelling, making Morgan chuckle.

"I should never have doubted you, baby girl," the man says, kissing her cheek.

"Of course not. But I forgive you only because I'm so happy our plan worked wonderfully."

-----------

SIX MONTHS EARLIER

Penelope Garcia's curiosity always gets the best of her. She has gotten to know you better in the past months since the IA convention where you met. She sees you as a beautiful person and a good friend. So when you told her on a night full of alcohol about your ex-husband and how important your relationship was for you, Penelope couldn't shake the feeling of wanting to know more, so maybe she could do something to help. Do what? She didn't know, but maybe more information about it would give her an idea.

Quickly typing on her keyboard, she finds a Pasadena Marriage License with your name on it. Checking the date, Garcia notes you had married in the summer before your senior year. It was expected. You already told her that.

What was unexpected, though, was finding out who the person you had married was. Garcia had to read the name twice before realizing the huge discovery she had just made: Spencer Walter Reid.

'No way! It has to be a mistake,' she squealed, fast-reading the information on the papers. No, there wasn't any mistake. You married Spencer Reid almost ten years ago. The same Spencer Reid she has known for so long and works with her every day.

But wait. You had said, ex-husband. Where are the divorce papers?

Typing again, she finds a divorce request signed by you and Spencer a year after you married. So that is true, too.

Overwhelmed by everything she has just discovered, Garcia is about to close the web tabs with all this data when something pops up: it's a court resolution dated six months after the divorce request. The resolution reads that the request has been denied because one of the parts couldn't be notified for comparison to the Pasadena tribunal. Garcia narrows her eyes and types again, looking for an updated legal document granting the divorce request. She finds none.

'Double holy fucking shit! They are still married!'

Without knowing what to do with this new information, she starts pacing frantically in the office. Garcia knows that the information she found wasn't for her to know, but at the same time, how does it not you or Spencer know this? She can't tell you, but she should, or maybe not. Grabbing her phone, she dials the only person she knows will help her with the dilemma.

"Derek Morgan. I need your delicious ass in my office right now!"

And just like that, a plan emerged. A plan to give a little push to destiny. A little push to you and Spencer cross paths again. Maybe this time, for good.

-----------

"And when are you going to tell them about their failed divorce?" Morgan asks Garcia, who is still looking at the couple giggling and kissing.

"Oh, shush. Let them enjoy tonight. There will be time for that."

Derek Morgan shakes his head, laughing. "Okay. You're the boss, mama. You're the boss."

---------------

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