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mariasont · 7 months ago

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Office Sleepover - A.H

a/n: this is honestly kind of shit but whatever

might make this a mini series?

part two here!

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: in which reader gets put on a hit-list and has to stay in the office (kind of based off when penelope got put on a hit-list by the dirty dozen)

warnings: reader kind of flashes hotch, really inconsistent with how the gov works i'm sure, there's also definitely not an oven in the break room but in my world there is <3

wc: 3.8k

Hotch's voice reached you, but the words tangled into an indecipherable code as they hit the air. You nodded, a reflex, but it was as if your brain had short-circuited. You could make out fragments--a hit on you, stay at office, 24/7 protection, you can take the back office. But no matter how many times he said it, it seemed to ricochet through your head, making less sense each time. You were on a hit list? A hit list?

It all felt very made up, like a script ripped straight out of a tv show. Risk was a part of the BAU job description, but a hit list? For a fleeting moment, a chuckle hovered at the brink of your lips, but it was swiftly swallowed by a wave of dread that rose in its place. You blinked a couple times, probably too many in a vain attempt to clear the fog and bring Hotch's face into focus.

"But what about all my stuff? And you want me to camp out here in the office? For how long, Hotch? I mean, I'm all for overtime, but this is... this is a lot, and I--," you babble, your speech racing ahead of your thoughts. "And my baking? That's my biggest stress reliever. Not to mention my DIY projects--I can't just abandon my half-finished throw pillowcases. Plus, how many pairs of shoes is too many for an office closet?"

Your pout formed a delicate bow, and though he said nothing, his eyes softened. Hotch could feel the frown marring his features. He might never say it, but seeing you like this struck a chord, making it a little hard to breathe.

Circling the desk, he planted himself in front of you, his hand settling on your shoulder. "Hey, take a deep breath," he urges softly. "Let's take it one step at a time. List out what you need, someone will bring it here. Your baking supplies, DIY projects, even your shoes."

True to Hotch's word, as usual, you found every piece of your life carefully compartmentalized into cardboard boxes, lined up carefully in the office that now doubled as your temporary room. There was an odd sense of dislocation in finishing your workday and needing only to count about thirty steps before arriving at your room.

You swung the door closed, the sound sealing the room as a deep sigh wrapped around you and you started sifting through the boxes. The pullout couch serving as your bed was less than appealing, its worn fabric making you grimace internally. Nevertheless, you diverted your attention, busying yourself with the organizing of your extensive collection of things. Spencer would definitely shake his head at the sight of the vast amount of clothes you had brought.

The irony wasn't lost on you; surrounded by the office's ceaseless motion, yet you felt more alone than in the stillness of your own apartment. God, this was pathetic, and you needed a drink, but you had a nagging suspicion the office handbook would have a thing or two to say about that. You spent a solid two hours attempting to infuse the sterile space with a touch of home, it wasn't perfect (at all), but it would have to do.

Rossi knocks on the doorframe, poking his head in with a grin. "I didn't realize we were redecorating the bureau in shades of bubblegum," he teases. "How you doing, kid?"

"Actually, it's blush," you correct with a mock-serious tone, meeting his smile with one of your own. "I'm fine," you insist, but Rossi's knowing look prompts a quick add-on. "I am, really, I mean I've always said I wanted my own office."

"An office with a view of the bullpen, no less. You're living the dream," he says, his eyes scanning the room. "Need any help with anything? Or anything else from your place? Maybe your favorite mug to make feel more like home?"

"Don't worry, I'm already one step ahead of you," you assure him, revealing a drawer brimming with mugs.

Rossi lets out a low appreciative whistle. "Why am I not surprised?" he chuckles with a broad grin. "Well, I'm heading out for the night. Remember, I'm just a call away if you need anything. And Hotch is still here, buried in paperwork as usual."

He left, and you were alone--a cue to try and cling to some normalcy of your routine; you drew the blinds and slipped into the comfort of your pajamas. You hauled yourself off to the office bathroom, reluctantly at that, and proceeded to attend to your skincare, brush your hair, and polish your smile with a thorough teeth brushing.

Eyeing the hallway warily, you made a silent exit from the bathroom, the carpet softening your footfalls. But in your rush to avoid prying eyes, you crashed into a solid wall of a figure, the force sending you tumbling backward. You hit the floor with a muted thud, your ass hitting the ground, legs splayed inelegantly in front of you. Your eyes rose to meet the firm, penetrating look of Hotch. Of fucking course.

There was a pause as Hotch's eyes drank in the sight of your flushed complexion and the wide, doe-like eyes that seemed to capture the light just so. He felt like his heart could stop then and there. And he knew it was wrong, but he certainly liked the sight of you sprawled below him. He blinked, breaking the trance, and offered a concerned, "Are you okay?" His hands were outstretched, ready to pull you back to your feet.

Your cheeks turned a deeper shade as you held onto Hotch's hand, the feeling unexpectedly comforting, rough in yours but nice. "What? Oh, yeah, I'm all good, sorry about that," you managed to say, the words squeaking out a tad too eagerly.

You stood up, and his closeness was all-consuming. You were suddenly intensely aware of every breath, every throb of your heart, and your mind went blank; the usual stream of thoughts replaced by a buzzing silence.

His eyes held yours for a fraction longer than necessary before he stepped back, creating a respectful distance. The hallway's warmth seemed to dissipate with the space, leaving you with an unexpected stab of disappointment.

"Rossi said you'd be here. Anything I can do to help?"

You rationalized the offer as a gesture of your goodwill, but a small part, well a big part, of you knew just wanted to be close to him, to be alone with him maybe--in the office, after hours, in his office. This was weird, I mean, you'd always admired your Unit Chief, but this was different. You chalked it up to the day's unfortunate series of events--you were tired, and lonely, and you needed desperately to snap out of it before you made a fool out of yourself.

"No, you need to rest. It's been a long day, and you've been through enough." He paused, his gaze assessing you. "How are you holding up?"

"At this rate, I'll need a sign that says 'I'm fine,' to stop the check-ins." Although you silently doubted that would deter him. You gesture to the surroundings. "And this? It's like a sleepover at work. Just hoping this so-called hit man doesn't show up."

Hotch internally recoiled at your words, leaving him with the sensation of a cold grasp tightening around his heart. He cleared his throat, the joke falling flat in the gravity of his concern. "I'll be here for a while longer. If you need anything, don't hesitate to come find me," he managed a nod before retreating to his office.

A while longer? You knew Hotch was a workaholic, but it now occurred to you that he must never sleep. Quickly, you gathered your scattered belongings, and made your way to your office.

The pull-out couch seemed even less inviting than you remembered, if that was possible. You perched on the edge, the metallic frame cold through the thin mattress. As you lay down, the couch seemed to swallow you in its awkward angles. Perfect. Tossing and turning, you struggled to find a comfortable spot. Eventually, exhaustion won over discomfort, the rhythm of your own breathing lulling you into a fitful sleep.

Your eyes flickered open at some point during the night and the blinds drifted apart, as if by an unseen hand, and through the gap, your eyes fell on a hooded figure, the face not visible in the dim light. Your muscles locked in terror, an icy fear clawing its way up your spine as you tried to move--to reach for your gun, to call out for Hotch, to do anything. But as if imprisoned by an invisible force, you could only watch, confined to the bed, as the figure crept towards the door.

A scream tore from your throat, a raw and piercing sound that ricocheted off the walls and echoed through your eyes. This was it, you thought.

Then, in an instant, you were awake and disoriented, your breaths coming in short bursts, and your body covered in a sheen of cold sweat. Your fingers clenched the sheets, the fabric twisting in your grasp as you fought to decipher what was reality. Your eyes snapped to the blinds, half-expecting to see the figure from your dream materialize, but the emptiness beyond them slowly calmed your racing heart.

With a throat dry as parchment and your pulse still echoing in your ears, you drifted from your room towards the break room. As you ambled past Hotch's office, you paused. The door, slightly ajar, felt like an invitation. Despite knowing better, a foggy curiosity nudged your feet forward. With a shaky breath, you eased the door open wider and slipped inside.

His office felt different at night--it was quieter, more personal, and you felt like an intruder on Hotch's private world. You took a moment, absorbing the sight of his meticulously organized desk, the case files that were always present.

It was tempting to try to piece together the man from his workspace, but you held back. As you turned to leave, a familiar scent stopped you--the subtle hint of his cologne hanging in the air. It wrapped around you, easing the tension that had sunk into your limbs. Almost without thinking, you found yourself sinking into the couch.

The room, infused with his distinct scent, seemed to have your blinking growing heavier, more intentional. You nestled deeper into the cushions; the fabric familiar beneath your fingers, lulling you into a sense of security. Just five minutes, you thought.

Hotch's steps were slow, his eyelids having a hard time staying open as he made his way through the bullpen. He carried his briefcase, the leather handle worn and conformed to his hand. He contemplated a detour to your office, a silent check-in to ease his mind, but he dismissed the idea--you were probably still asleep, and he'd definitely look like a creep. Reaching his own office, he noticed the door ajar, a sliver of morning light spilling through the gap.

He stepped into the room, and time seemed to stand still as his gaze landed on the couch. There you were, fast asleep on his couch. Your hand lay gently under your cheek, a makeshift pillow softening the hard angles beneath, while your nose gave the faintest twitches. Your lips were parted as if mid-whisper and strands of your hair were splayed in a disarrayed crown around your head. He knew that in no way could that have been comfortable. It hurt his back just looking at you, but still you looked so peaceful.

He moved with quiet steps, heat creeping up his neck as he placed his things on the desk. Turning back to you, he couldn't help but notice the gentle dishevelment of your pajamas, buttons undone in innocent disarray, the fabric parting to reveal the gentle slope of your breasts. He felt an odd mix of emotions--a gentle chiding for finding you in such state, and the guilt of finding the sight so undeniably sweet.

A quiet cough escaped him, more out of habit than necessity, as he approached a cabinet where blankets were neatly stacked--a nod to many nights spent just as you were. He draped one over you, his movements slow and unhurried, shielding you from potential curious eyes before finding his normal place behind the wooden desk.

He tried to focus--really, he did. I mean, he had a towering pile of paperwork and responsibilities that demanded his attention. But despite his best efforts, his gaze involuntarily drifted to you time and time again. It was as if he needed visual confirmation of your steady breathing to assure himself that you were okay. He thought about you here all night, alone, and he found his knuckles whiten against the grip of his pen. He knew you had security on you at all times, but somehow, he found no comfort in that.

Hotch's eyes flicked to the clock--7:30 am. You still had at least another half an hour before you technically needed to start work, although truth be told he would let you sleep as long as your body allowed. There was no way in hell he was going to disturb you when you looked so content.

As Hotch worked, the morning light grew stronger, casting a warm glow over his desk. It was nearly 9 am when the sound of shifting fabric eventually roused you. You were waking up, blinking away the remnants of sleep, confusion etched on your face. As your eyes caught sight of the clock and Hotch, mortification set it.

"Oh my gosh, Hotch. I am so sorry," you blurted out, embarrassment coloring your cheeks. "You could've woken me up--I... I should've set an alarm. And I shouldn't even be here, but I can explain, sort of..."

In a flurry of motion, you leapt from the couch, only to feel a sudden tug at your chest as a button from your top snagged on a stray thread. The fabric pulled open, revealing way more than what was appropriate for your boss to see. Your face turned a shade redder as you scrambled to cover up. Hotch, momentarily sidetracked by the sight of the cleavage of your tits once again, quickly refocused and interrupted your flustered explanations.

"It's fine," he assured. "Given everything that's happened, you needed the rest." He nodded towards the couch. "You're always welcome to sleep here if you need to--though I can't promise it'll be any more comfortable next time."

"Oh no, it was super comfortable, really," you insist, despite the awkwardness clinging to your words. Hotch gives you a look that says he's not entirely convinced. "Okay, well, I'm going to uh... go," you mumble, stopping short at the door with a sudden concern.

Hotch understands immediately and offers, "They're all in the briefing room--won't be out for a while."

With a relieved nod, and minimal eye contact, you dash out, hoping to reach your office unnoticed. But because the world just hated you these past days, just as you're rushing by, Morgan's hands come to your shoulders to stop you.

"Easy there, mama," he teases, a smile on his face. But as he gets a good look at your attire, his grin grows wider. "What in the world...?" he starts, laughter in his voice. He glances from you to Hotch's office door, then back again. "Hold up, hold up--you didn't... with Hotch? Are you?"

"What? No, Morgan, absolutely not! Why would you even--oh my god," you gasp, wishing the ground would swallow you whole. God, I mean, the day hasn't even started, and you needed it to end. Realizing your voice has risen in your flustered state, you quickly lower it to a harsh whisper, your eyes darting around to ensure no one overheard. "Why would you even suggest that?"

"Um, maybe because you're making a grand exit from the boss man's office in your PJs? Just a wild guess."

"No, Morgan, it's not what you think," you insist, but your attention snaps to the sound of the team's voices nearing the door. "I don't have time for this," you mutter, darting back to your office.

In a whirlwind, you shed the pajamas, slip into your work attire, and hastily run a brush through your hair. Good enough.

You threw yourself into work, the stack of papers becoming a welcome distraction, a rare sense of relief rather than the familiar dread. It was a considerable effort to divert your mind from the distractions--Hotch, the hit man, and Morgan's incessant teasing. Not that anyone would believe that you and Hotch were together; he was the very definition of sophisticated, handsome, and successful, and you were just, well, you.

Not that there was anything wrong with you. You liked yourself just fine; you laughed too loudly at jokes, talked to your houseplants as if they were your old friends, and you had an odd fascination with weather patterns. These things made you wholly you. You just knew you couldn't be more different from Hotch.

With a bit of luck and purposeful avoiding, your day passed smoothly, sparing you any unnecessary run-ins with Hotch. Everyone had gone home for the day which is why you stood in the break room attempting some baking recipe from Pinterest.

The slippers on your feet padded against the carpet as you hummed around the room. With swift motions, you ushered the coffee cake batter into the oven, then turned to tackle the mess you had created on the countertops. Cleaning as you go wasn't your usual style, but office break room didn't seem like the place for your usual creative sprawl.

Your phone had buzzed incessantly with Penelope's calls--her offers the keep you company is why you loved her, but you weren't going to subject her to that, no matter how many times she said she didn't mind.

Hotch's office was quiet, save for the soft scratching of his pen against paper as he finally closed his files. He moved into bullpen and as he passed the breakroom, the soft hum of the light and faint sound of movement drew him in. There you were, engrossed in tidying up, with your hair casually gathered above your shoulders and wearing your sweats, Hotch found him instinctively pausing to watch.

He knew he shouldn't bother you, knew he was likely the last person you'd want to see, yet he found himself rooted to the spot, his gaze fixed on you, the warmth in his chest intensifying with each fleeting second.

The moment you turned and saw a figure, a sharp gasp cut through the silence, and the icing in your grasp became a sweet projectile that flew across the room. Relief washed over you as you realized who it was.

"Jeez, Hotch, give me a heart attack why don't you," you said, half-laughing as your heart rate settled. "Especially when there's a hitman who might beat you to the punch."

Hotch parted his lips to speak, but you were quicker, a stream of thoughts tumbling out before you could stop them. "I thought everyone was gone. You weren't at your desk earlier--oh wait, you had that meeting with the DOJ, right? Did they have anything about the people who marked me?"

In your haste, you closed the gap between you, and only then did you spot the icing on his cheek. "Oh, sorry about that, Hotch," you said with an apologetic grin, reaching out as if to wipe it away.

As your palm made contact with his skin, a shared realization of the intimacy of the gesture washed over you. Time seemed to slow as your thumb traced a lingering path through the icing, your whisper barely audible, "There."

The word seemed to hang in the air as you froze, the proximity suddenly overwhelming, your breath caught in your throat. Hotch's backward step was almost imperceptible, but it was enough. You cleared your throat awkwardly, cheeks warming with a flush. "Um, did you need something?"

Hotch shook his head slightly, "No, just wanted to check on you before I head out."

You gave a thumbs up, mustering a smile. "Well, consider me checked."

Hotch nodded, his expression unreadable. "Goodnight," he said, to which you echoed in response as you watched him leave.

Alone now, you slumped against the counter, your hand pressed to your face. Consider me checked? God, someone needed to tape your mouth shut.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner #criminal minds fanfic #hotch #hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #ssa hotchner #agent hotchner #cm #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x fem reader #Spotify

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lilithandherharlots · 1 year ago

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Too shy to tell you

miguel o’hara x fem!reader

Miguel hides your heals in hopes of making you forget you ever owned a pair...he confesses about his theft during a hot and heavy night of sex.

Warnings: This might be interpreted as possessive or an unhealthy bond. Though its supposed to be just a very shy and respectful Miguel who let's loose during sex.:]

Authors note: I am not a writer!! This is my first time righting fanfic.. like.. ever!!! So don't attack me. Though honest, constructive criticism is something that I would love to hear. Sorry if there are spelling mistakes. Also, I don't know how to put proper description..... enjoy!!!!

:::

"Miggy?" I call out to my boyfriend who's currently towering over the coffee machine, waiting for it to brew.

"Yes, my love?" He responds with a look over his shoulder.

"Have you seen my black pointed heals? I can't seem to find them."

"No. Have you checked by the door?" He was lying.

He was lying. He was lying, and he didn't feel bad about it. The truth was he had stuffed them in the highest cupboard of the laundry room. He knew you couldn't reach it. He liked it that way. He couldn't let you open it since he had stuffed at least 4 pairs of heals in there.

"No miggy, they aren't here." You say after checking everywhere by the front door.

"Idk what to say, baby... we have to leave soon. Just throw on a different pair and I'll buy you some new ones later."

He was a liar... and he was damn good at it... until he wasn't.

:::

It was 2am. This insanity started hours ago, but Miguel's stamina wouldn't let down. Your soft moans could fuel him till sun rise, and he would love to do this forever. But unlike him, you have limits. Limits to your ability to stay strong, or at least keep yourself up right. But he doesn't really care. Your begs for a break won't succeed with a constantly starving man like him.

"One more round, please baby... please. I need you." His desperate begs caress your tear stained cheeks as he whispers them softly, leaning over you and filling you with sloppy thrust.

"Miguel- please.. It's too much.." You whine as you try to pull away, gripping desperately onto the sheets.

"Last one.... I promise..." he lies.

He said the same thing the last 4 rounds. If he could have it his way he'd continue. But he knew you couldn't keep going for much longer, so he used this opportunity to tell you what he couldn't bring himself to say otherwise.

"I lied..." he confesses. Watching your tits bounce with every rough trust, keeping himself busy while you tried to form a reply. It took you a while, but you managed to let out a soft hum, waiting for him to explain himself further.

"I took them. Your heels.. I fucking hate those things.." he thrust get faster as he says it. Hoping to make your brain foggy enough to not remember his confessions in the morning.

"I like your height, so why do you wear those weird things?" His heart felt lighter as he told you.

"I like that your height forces you to get on your tippy toes every time you want a kiss from me.. and even then, I have to bend over to reach you.... I like that you rely on me to reach those high shelves. Every time you ask me, you grow as red as a rose...."

You can feel his movements speed up. You can barely hear him... your mind fuzzy from pleasure. Lewd sounds of skin slapping against skin felt like white noise at this point. The dim shadow of his frame covering you completely.

"You're so small under me.. your body falls any way I bend it..." At his point, he was just speaking the first thing to cross his mind.

You didn't hear him, and he knew it. Seconds later, you feel his weight shift, the mattress by your head sinking under his heavy hand as he leaned in and whispered.

"Please don't take that away from me."

His words were demanding. He felt exactly what he said. Even though your eyes were shut tight, you knew his eyes were locked on you. His breath heavy, as if he just confessed a dirty secret. He kinda did...

"Promise me.... Promise me you won't wear them and I'll help you cum."

As tired as you were. You wanted it. You needed it. You needed him. So you give in.

"F-fine... I promise."

"You promise what?" He smirked hearing your whiney voice.

"I promise I won't wear the heels!!"

The pleasure he got from you saying that was immense. He shifted his weight once more as he changed your position like a marionette doll. Spreading your legs apart. His hands wrapped around your thighs, and his claws dug into your skin. The stinging pain of it was a wake-up call, causing you to gasp for air.

This position caused him to go deeper. The sticky mess from your previous rounds was being pushed out of your aching hole. The sound of his hips hitting your ass grew louder with every precise thrust. They got louder and louder until they stopped. Your thighs had clenched closed as you hit that high you were chasing. And you took him with you. Tightening around his pulsing cock in a way that made him fill you to the brim once more.

He watched your body shake. Your hips jerking forward. He would usually take that as his sign to keep going, but your fucked out face was telling him you couldn't take another thrust.

"You did great my love..... my little angel~" He cooed gentle praises as he rubbed your claw marked thighs.

"I'll buy you the cutest flats."

:::

A thing he didn't know.. is that you lied, too. His secret cupboard was emptied, and your heal collection was restored... and yes.. he pouted in silence.

The end

#miguel o'hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara smut #spiderman smut

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januaryembrs · 8 months ago

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THERE'S NO SIGN OF LIFE | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [3]

Description: The one where you grieve Emily together (+ the one where you kiss him)

word count: 7.9k

trigger warnings: okay so this chapter is exactly how it sounds, heavy in themes of grief, depression, anger, slight ideation of the world being better without bugsy (as if), DRUG USE (once and not addictively and not by Spencer!), mention of Spencer being horny, mention on blood and drinking.

authors note: this was just supposed to be a little filler chapter for the next one where the real juicy shit happens and long story short it became nearly 8k words of pure angst until the last minute when I decided to stop hurting you all. please don't hate me, promise a big boy chapter is coming up.

previous chpt | next chpt

'Doctor, look into my eyes.

I've been breathing air, but there's no sign of life.'

The team had fallen into chaos since Emily died. Hotch thought that just five little stages of grief weren’t quite enough to summarise what they were going through.

Morgan was pissed off by the smallest things, had flipped shit just that morning because the printer had jammed. He'd gone through two mugs and a keyboard in just two weeks in his tempers that had certainly seen better days.

Penelope’s eyes gleamed with unshed tears she was trying her hardest to choke down, to wipe away so fast she could pretend to still see her computer screen, but Hotch didn’t need to be a profiler to see the way her sleeves were smudged with mascara, sodden through 24/7.

Rossi seemed resigned, tired, his breath smelled faintly of the strong whiskey he saved for special occasions, his hair unkempt, as though he hadn’t slept until the early hours, or if he had it had been unrestful. He took more frequent breaks, came back smelling like the cigars he kept in his desk drawer for the bad days, and he sighed as if the world beat down on his back, like he’d been asked to choose between stopping world hunger or saving the environment. His chest was heavy. His face was tired of losing so many friends he loved.

Spencer was working himself to the bone, his desk piled with books (even more so than usual), his fingers twitching by his side more often, as if his brain cells had been dialled up to a thousand percent, which was saying something when it came to Reid. In fact the only thing out of ordinary was the fact he was constantly checking his phone, the sight of which had Pen dropping her coffee on the rough carpet, which she had promptly then excused herself with watery eyes over. Yes, he actually knew how to use technology, which he had been so vehemently against for years, until the team realised it was because one very important member of the team had been using her sick days for three weeks now.

They knew he was looking after her, that he would bring her dinner and make sure the cats were fed, but they had no idea she had all but moved in with him, Niko and Sergio included.

Yet he found himself checking the screen every twenty minutes or so for signs of an update, even just a thumbs up or a little sign that said seen under his good morning texts. He was scared he’d wandered too far into boyfriend territory, it certainly felt that way when he would come home to see her bundled on the couch, nose deep in one of the books he would leave out for her, how her eyes would light up just the tiniest amount to see him home. She rarely cooked, he knew she didn’t even touch the food in his fridge no matter how much he reminded her she needed to eat when he wasn’t there, to which she usually just nodded at him and buried her head in his arm to escape the scoldings.

Things were different with her here. He knew she was vulnerable, lost, he saw it every time she came crawling into his bed from where he’d set her up in the spare room, or when Sergio made himself home on her lap and she squeezed the cat to her chest in quiet tears. Usually he would have squirmed out of her grip, he had always preferred Emily, but these days he just let her sob with a docile blink at where Spencer watched her from the other end of the couch, and pretended not to notice when his fur was sodden and messed up.

Spencer had felt something for her before, the weeks, months even leading up to Emily dying, but with her here, needing him all the time, holding him tightly when he needed to grieve himself, making herself at home in his personal space, he was sure she knew it too. There was no way she didn’t know how he felt.

But the topic was too heavy, too complex to bring up with her mourning her sister, it would rip the carpet out from beneath her feet, and no matter how heavily, besottedly, how deeply Spencer felt he loved her, he would never do that to her. He couldn’t.

He had always loved mind games, but loving someone so much you couldn’t not tell them, only to not tell them because you loved them so much felt like a whole paradox even he couldn’t wrap his big brain around.

So they stayed where they were. She had good days, though they usually looked like said reading on the sofa with nothing but a strong cup of coffee in her stomach. And then she had bad ones. And the bad ones made him scared, so scared he had no choice but to get help.

Penelope came over the Friday evening with Spencer after work, kitted out entirely with nail polishes and gems, the box set of Barbie movies, a hot chocolate mix she swore by, three tubs of ice cream, face masks, Teen vogue with a Never have I ever section ‘Begging to be answered’ and of course, her Pièce de résistance, her makeup kit and joke fluffy handcuffs for them to tie down Reid and give him a makeover.

“Hello my handsome gentlemen,” She greeted Niko and Sergio who rushed to the door on instinct, knowing Spencer always gave them each a big handful of treats upon arriving home, “Auntie Penny is here for a super girly evening, no boys allowed,”

“Am I not invited?” Spencer asked, faux hurt flashing on his face as he shut the door behind them, though his eyes were quick to scan around his living room for any sign of her. There wasn’t, not even a single pillow was out of place, and he knew it had been another day of skipped lunch and breakfast.

“You are, of course you are, I just didn’t want them to get jealous,” She whispered, her brown eyes taking in the too perfect apartment and the lack of the Prentiss girl, “Is she sleeping?”

“No,” He said without checking, because he knew she rarely slept nowadays unless she was in his bed with him, “I’ll go get her,”

“Okay,” Some of the joy died out of her tone when she heard his voice soften sadly as she set her bags down on the kitchen counter, “I’ll get the hot chocolates ready!” Penelope tried to recover in that perky tone she used to cover up when something hurt her.

He just hoped this had been the right decision, that he wasn’t pushing her too hard.

Knocking softly on her door, he let himself in when he heard a small murmur on the other side, and as he suspected, she was curled into a small ball under one of his blankets, her hair wet, her pyjamas in the laundry basket. She had one of his shirts on and some boxers he had noticed had gone missing, but he would never hold it against her.

She had showered while he was gone at least, and her breath was minty fresh as he crept over the woolly rug and kneeled one leg on the bedside.

“Hey,” He started softly, sweeter than honey, his cadence somewhat hopeful as he leaned over her and stroked her hair that was still damp. “You got up! Did you eat anything?”

She looked up at him with tired eyes, but she reached out with both her arms to embrace him gently, like she’d been waiting all day to have him near again.

“I had a couple biscuits and some coffee,” Her voice was raspy, and it was the first he’d heard her speak in a few days. “I’ll try better tomorrow, I just was a bit tired today-”

“No, no, that’s great,” He rushed to comfort her, to stop the apology that was coming his way whenever she didn’t take care of herself the way he wanted her to, “Penny’s here to see you. She’s here for a girl’s night, if that’s okay?”

Bugsy attempted a smile, though she seemed hesitant, but he thought that was probably just the way her expression was these days, like everything hopeful had been sucked out of her.

“I’ve missed Penny,” She said, and he knew she meant it. She nodded finally, and he leaned over her to give her a proper hug for putting on a brave face, feeling her nuzzle into his chest at the contact. She sniffed the air for a second, before whispering into his ear, “Is that chocolate?”

He chuckled, stroking down her back and pulling her up into a sit. He’d gotten used to her being pliant under his touch, and he only wished her being so receptive to his advances would be under other circumstances.

The urge to grab her face and kiss every bit of hurt out of her was growing harder and harder to shove down with every day he saw her so soft and wounded. He wasn’t good at knowing what to say, but for her, he was trying to be. The only alternative was kissing her silly, until the pit she’d crawled into was warm, just warm all over, and she came back to him in one piece.

“Yes, it’s chocolate. Now come on, before she starts the movie without us,” He breathed gently, helping her out of bed, pretending he didn’t hear the way her joints cracked with the first sign of movement in hours. “Wait a second, pants,” He reminded her, tossing her some sweatpants from the floor, which she shoved on blindly. He didn’t mind her walking around like that if it meant she were comfortable, but he didn’t want her to give Pen a scare.

A ghost of a smile teased on her lips as he led her out the room with two hands on her shoulders, seeing the blonde woman light up like the fourth of July at the sound of the two of them approaching.

“Bug!” Penelope called, mid way through distributing a hefty amount of whipped cream and marshmallows on top of three mugs. Spencer watched the second her eyes widened slightly as she took in the girl’s appearance, trying frantically to cover it with an even wider smile, rushing to hug her tightly. He saw the minute she realised she felt so different in her arms; lifeless, heavy, rooted to the spot, like any contact with someone other than the gentle Spencer-touches she was used to made her lock up.

She looked sick, like she hadn’t known fresh air in weeks, or like she’d pulled three all nighters in a row, or like she would be able to watch a ten car pile up and not bat an eye. She looked dead. She felt dead in Penny’s arms.

The thought of it made her squeeze her tighter, until she felt two arms cuddle her back firmly.

“I see Spencer has been treating you well,” Pen said, because she was avoiding the subject of Emily, and the way Bugsy looked exhausted, and the way she saw how scared Spencer was when he’d come into ‘the bat cave’ that afternoon to ask for her help.

Bugsy attempted another smile, nodding slightly as the blonde drew back from their hug, and she saw the worry she tried so desperately to hide as she took in her face.

The girl’s skin was dull in a way they’d never seen her before, her expression tired, her bones creaky, like someone had reached down her gullet and plucked her soul right from out of her chest, snatched it there and then. Penelope saw why Spencer looked so worried.

“He’s been great,” Bugsy replied simply, her eyes finding Spencer’s where he shadowed behind her, worried she would faint on the spot from all the movement. She’d not been eating anything other than what he encouraged down her throat, but he supposed a handful of biscuits were better than nothing.

She felt the bottomless pit that used to be her heart rip open just that bit further, the way it had done slowly the past few days, eating away at her skin. She knew she could never ever repay Spencer for everything he was doing, knew the odd few times she’d managed to collect herself enough to be there for him when he cried could never amount to how he hovered over her every second he was home.

But where she should have felt guilt, there was nothing, there was just nothing left of her.

He seemed to notice the slip, the way he always did, and she never did tell him how perceptive he was as he stroked over the back of her hair, leading her with a warm hand on her upper back to the sofa where Pen had already laid out the movie selection, had already grabbed the hot chocolates that were quickly melting onto the coffee table, where Niko was waiting with an eager pink tongue to collect his share, where he settled her down and wrapped her in a blanket as if he was swaddling a baby, where he let her take the middle and him and Pen on either side as Fairytopia lit up his living room with hot pinks and rainbows and flowers and magic.

And even though she had yet to crack a smile, a real one at least, she seemed content, not entirely uncomfortable with the evening as Penelope commandeered one of her hands to paint her nails a shiny blush colour ‘to match the evening’. Spencer thought for a minute she might have just needed some girl time, something no matter how many cuddles and sweet words he whispered could never give her. Maybe that was all she’d needed.

Maybe she would get through this without entirely crumbling.

It wasn’t until the next day when even showering was too big a feat for her, when she had only two mouthfuls of the blueberry pancakes he’d made her before she apologised with watery eyes that he realised how stupid he was for believing it.

It wasn’t until she said she wanted to move back home by herself that he really started panicking.

JJ took her out for a picnic in the park the following weekend. The guilt was eating her up alive about hiding Emily’s secret, and from what Pen had told her, she wasn’t doing good. She wasn’t even doing bad; she was barely hanging on by a thread. Hotch had said she would be a flight risk with her sister gone, had said they would need to keep an eye on her as much as they would the rest of the team, but for Emily’s safety she couldn’t tell her the truth. JJ could only stand back and watch as the girl they all knew crawled into something dark inside herself and barricaded the door closed.

Spencer had taken the nice approach with her, never forcing her to do anything she didn’t want to or asking too directly, as had Penelope. They’d both tried letting her open up by herself, which had only resulted in the girl taking about five steps back and even starting to shut out Reid, something which they all saw tore him up even more than seeing her wasting away in his spare room. He spent more days at hers, crying harder than she had seen him even when he was struggling with opioids. Crying for Emily some of the time, but mostly crying for the fact he was entirely helpless now she had moved out, like the one thing that had held him upright until then had left in a guilty mess of ‘sorry’s and dead eyes.

So she instead took the approach of telling Bugsy she needed help. Because if there was one thing that had always been able to bend her will, it was someone else needing her.

JJ thought about reminding Spencer that Bug would come back if he took the same route, if he just told her how badly he needed her instead of her feeling like she was simply a burden on his life. But she knew he wouldn’t hear it, he would only blame himself more.

So she’d told Bug she was struggling with looking after Henry alone while Will was working away, that he’d been asking for her since she’d come to his second birthday party with the biggest stuffed whale toy he’d ever seen. It was a white lie, Will was home more days than she was, but Henry had been asking for ‘the bug lady’ every time he played with his teddy. And it worked like a charm.

So they sat in the warm April breeze, Bugsy reading on her stomach as JJ carefully nudged a punnet of fat, red grapes her way, hoping she would take the hint and swallow a few.

It wasn’t until Henry came diving over to them from where he was collecting snails by their shells that Bug even showed any sign of pulling herself out of the book.

“Buggy!” The little boy called, his tongue struggling with the complexity of the ‘gsy’ sound, and she looked up at him with a tired smile on her face that JJ saw right through immediately. “Buggy, look,”

She held out her hand, and he gently placed a common land snail in the palm of her hand, no bigger than a quarter, who happily slid over her fingertip with a squishy sensation.

“Thankyou, Henry,” She replied, her eyes trailing over the shiny slime he left behind over her palm, his tiny antenna eyes googling up at her. “What should we call him?”

“Sid’d’snail,” Henry replied like it was the most obvious thing in the world, crouching next to her to watch him crawling over her chipped pink fingernails.

“Hi Sid,” She chimed, and JJ watched her face drop into a completely emotionless expression the second Henry’s back was turned to find Sid a friend.

She felt it clawing at her throat to come out, Emily’s alive, Emily’s alive, come back to us please, please come back to us because Emily’s still alive. JJ was watching her rot in front of her very eyes, and better yet she had the power to stop it with those very few words.

She could put an end to all of this, she knew how badly it had hurt when Ros died, her older sister, her whole world ripped from her the way Emily’s ‘death’ was doing to Bugsy. She would have given anything for someone to have turned to her and said ‘Jennifer, your sister is still alive. Jennifer, it was all a trick, a hoax, a ploy to keep you safe. Jennifer, Ros is still here, alive and breathing and living her best life in Paris of all places.’

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t betray Emily like that, and knowing, no matter how much of a relief it would come, would put Bugsy in more danger with Ian Doyle and whatever other enemies her sister had made at interpol than she could have ever realised.

So instead, JJ just ran a gentle hand over her hair that warmed in the sun, and started braiding parts of it absent-mindedly, like they were two girls in a playground waiting for hometime.

JJ stayed quiet, and watched Bugsy get worse.

Aaron came over to her apartment at 8am sharp. He’d found JJ and Penny in floods of tears in the women’s bathroom when they were due to start the presentation of the latest case and they were nowhere to be seen. Spencer had become detached, quieter with every day that he checked his phone and saw no reply, but had mentioned he’d seen them go into the bathroom together as he got his morning coffee, only for their boss to see the two of them clinging to one another with wet cheeks and before he could even ask, Penelope splurged that Bugsy hadn’t messaged in four days and was refusing to open the door, and that even Spencer asking so sweetly, something that was usually her kryptonite, had failed to draw her out.

Aaron was convinced if this didn’t work he was kicking down the door himself, even if it meant filing paperwork for a necessary home visit.

Aaron Hotchner, surprising to no one, was soft on the youngest Prentiss girl. He’d watched her grow for four years straight, had come to her of all people in his hour of desperate need, and felt every second of her grief as if it was his own because he, like JJ, knew he had the power to stop it all but couldn’t.

He called her name through the door first, her real name, loud yet anxious, along with a firm knock. When he heard nothing back, he rapped on the wood louder, “Bugsy, I know you’re in there. The team are worried about you, they’re worried you’re hurt,”

Nothing.

And it wasn’t just the team that was worried, it was him too, if his heavy fists banging even harder were anything to go off of.

“Bugsy, if you don’t answer I’m sending for the SWAT team and asking them to ram this door down,” He said, with not a trace of a lie in his tone. Because he wasn’t lying, not by a long shot.

He heard footsteps then, and she appeared through a small crack in the doorway, not open enough for him to see the mess in her living room, but enough to see the way her entire face looked like a cadaver.

He fought back against the guilt choking him from the inside out.

“Stop yelling,” She murmured, almost bitterly, “You’re scaring the cats,”

“You’re scaring us,” He countered back, in a tone that was a little too mean, but from what he heard, soft and gentle wasn’t working, “Please, just let us help you, stop pushing everyone away,”

“That’s a little pot calling the kettle black there, Hotch,” She said in an equally harsh tone, her face scrunching into a frown, and she nearly slammed the door on him right there and then.

“Get your work out clothes on, we’re going for a run,” He ordered, and it was only then she notices his sport shorts and trainers. She scoffed in his face. He was quick to shove a foot in the door before she actually could swing it shut on him, ignoring the way he nearly yelped as it trapped between the wood, “I’m not asking,”

“Fuck off,” She spat, and he bristled at her choice language, but he saw the way her eyes told him everything he needed to know. She was a roadkill on a sidewalk waiting to be put out of her misery; she didn’t want to be prodded and poked at and ordered around, she wanted out.

She wanted to go quietly, without a fight. And it was for that reason, he put up more of a struggle.

“You are coming outside with me, even if I have to drag you down the street myself because this is not how it ends for you.” Aaron barked back, forcing the door open with one of his large hands as if it was nothing.

“Of all people, I would have thought you would understand, Aaron,” It was like she had slapped him in the face, though he thinks maybe that would have hurt less, and it was only then he saw her eyes had welled up, and her bottom lip was quivering. It was a horrible sight, it twisted his guts like he’d been stabbed by Foyet all over again, but it was better than the nothingness that was there before.

“Ofcourse, I understand,” His voice softened, his hands coming up to gently rest on her shoulder like she was breakable china beneath his palm, “You think I don’t know what it’s like to want to hide away and never face a world without Haley ever again? I can’t, even now, imagine the rest of my life with her gone,” His throat clogged with emotion he fought off, because he refused to have both of them crying in her living room when he was meant to be the one pulling her out of it, “But I do it because Jack needs me-”

“No body needs me,” She said emptily, ignoring the way Sergio wrapped his tail around her leg and meowed loudly as if to tell her otherwise.

“Yes we do,” Hotch insisted, seriously, damn near ready to shake her on the spot to knock some sense into her, “We need you, and better yet we love you. You may have lost your sister, but you still have a family waiting for you, Bugsy,”

And that was it, the single crack that broke the dam. Before he knew it she had launched herself into his arms in a fit of tears, clinging to him tighter than he thought she could for someone who looked so weak and perished.

He just held her close, feeling his own stray tears drip down his nose as his shirt got wet through. In another life, maybe he and Haley would have had a daughter, and maybe she would have reminded him of Bugsy, maybe his heart would soften to putty just the same way it did with her. The same way it did for Jack.

And eventually, when she dried her face, and quietened Sergio down, she went to put on her gym gear and one of Spencer's hoodies she’d stolen and felt too guilty to give back, and they went for a run.

If there was one thing Rossi knew better than his whiskeys, it was how to cook a good carbonara. And if there was one thing Bugsy needed more than anything at the moment it was a buttload of carbs and cheese.

Aaron had been taking her running every morning since that day, and even she had to admit the fresh air and exercise did her good, made her feel stronger and less like the women they find in body bags at the beginning of a case, made her feel like maybe, just maybe, she could get through the rest of this.

It wasn’t going away overnight, not by any means, but she looked healthier, and her exhaustion meant she got more sleep too, but what remained was a hunger that she was filling with cereal and instant noodles that Rossi knew he had to put a stop to immediately. Instant noodles should have been outlawed with crack and underaged drinking, he would proudly tell her.

So he invited her over for a cooking lesson, or as he would put it, she could watch him cook and eat as much as she wanted at the end, if she promised to never buy those awful microwave ramen ever again. And she’d agreed, because she felt her appetite coming back every day (and she knew where he kept the good white wine).

“Now as entertaining as this is watching you drain my stash of Sémillon, why don’t you chop up that pork and I’ll get started on the sauce.” He handed her a sharpened butcher’s knife, and the thin slices of seasoned ham, turning to use the stove for just a few moments, “You’re gonna add the cream in until it becomes thick, like cough mixture running off your spoon,”

“Thick and creamy, you got it,” She chimed in, her fingers slicing the meat into strips, “Did you want this as diced or Julian?”

“Do you mean julienne?”

“That’s what I just said,” He chuckled into the pot, his chest warming to hear some of that old bratty teenaged sass returning to her tone. He bet she would have run rings around him if she was his kid.

“Diced, if you would,” David said, using a wooden spoon to stir in the thick cream little by little until the container ran empty.

“Yes, Chef,” She hummed in response, flipping the chopping board around to begin slicing them the other side, “So, I’m guessing if I asked to try some of that Sauvignon I saw in the fridge, your response would be- oh motherfucker-”

David frowned, “Maybe not so harsh on the tongue but-” He turned around when he heard a hiss, and he quickly understood why she’d thrown the expletive out there.

Her hand ran red with thick blood, dripping quickly down her arm, ruining her shirt. He didnt even care that his hand carved indian wood chopping board was permanently stained, or that the meat was contaminated, or that the blood trickled a little too quick over his floor, only that her eyes seemed suddenly far away as she did nothing to stop the cut gaping. It had caught her in a trance, one she was not even aware she had been sucked into until he grabbed a towel and headed for her.

“Emily, no! Emily please, I need medical in here, we have an agent down! Emily, please, please don’t, please- Someone get medical, she’s bleeding-”

David’s hands grabbed a hold of her bloodied palm, wrapping it tightly in the cloth, so harshly it knocked her out of the daze she was in, dragged her out from the last time there was blood all over her hand, when it had been Emily’s blood, when she could do nothing but freeze like she had now.

“I’m fine,” She said on a reflex, even though he hadn’t asked, he had just acted, pulling her towards the cupboard where he kept the first aid kit, “David, I’m totally fine, it’s just a little scratch,”

“You have to let me go,” Emily had gasped. "Let me go, Bug,"

“David, I’m fine, stop worrying,” She said again when she saw him fussing, hoping he couldn't see the way she’d started shaking, and if he had, she wondered if she could play it off as the adrenaline rushing to fix the wound.

She knew she was on thin ice with the lot of them after her talk with Aaron. Like he said, they were her family, and family’s took care of one another. She couldn’t live with herself if she kept burdening them so much, kept them from grieving their partner just as much as she was; she loved them too.

Bugsy was trying to get better, she really was. Sometimes it was just a little difficult, like now when she could still see Emily’s butchered body infront of her as if she were little more than that joint of pork she’d been julienning.

“It’s okay to get hurt sometimes, kid. You don’t have to lie and pretend it doesn’t hurt if it does,” David said, sitting her back on the breakfast table, holding the bloodied cloth up where he was unravelling a spool of bandage and some rubbing alcohol.

She shut up then, and she wondered if she was really that see through or if David was just that good at his job. They stayed silent, except for the moan of pain she let out when he doused her hand in the solution, pulling the skin closed tightly and wrapping it taut enough for her to feel her heartbeat in her fingertips.

“It’s okay if you need a little help once in a while,” He continued, his movements gentle and careful, worried he’d spook her with the first real conversation they’d had in a long time. Rossi had always been closer to Emily than he had her, and maybe it was the fact he lost the few chances he had to be a father, or just the fact she reminded him so much of her older sister, but being with her felt like part of the wound in his chest was the one being treated. “Rather than being afraid to ask for help, remember this: When you ask someone to help you, you are actually doing them a tremendous favour by giving them an opportunity to feel needed.”

“Is that a David Rossi original, or did you get that from one of your self help books?” She sniffed, hoping he didn’t see the way her expression had fallen, or her throat caught with an apology, or how she hid it with a small smile.

“Richard Carlson.” He replied, pinning the end of the bandage in tight enough it wouldn’t snag. He sighed, looking at the girl who started guiltily at her fingers, reaching behind her for the corkscrew, “I’ll go get the Sauvignon, you order us a pizza. Just please god, no pineapple, that’s just as bad as instant noodles in my books. That’s like asking Da Vinci about bitcoin, it’s madness,”

And that was the first time she properly laughed in weeks.

While Derek was more than equipped to schmoozing the ladies when he wanted a date with them, he had not been ready for this when he’d asked Bugsy to go to the club with him.

She had been doing better, Rossi had said. She had seemed stronger, that was what Hotch had told him. Spencer said they’d even gone for coffee together. He left out the part where it felt awkward and almost like they were seeing an ex, though that of course would be impossible, because they were never dating. At least as far as he knew anyway.

It had been going fine, they’d gotten two rounds of drinks, had been chatting and she’d even been giggling the more the alcohol hit her. She was looking more like she used to, and it almost all felt like a horrible dream hearing from the rest of the team the state she was in.

He’d turned his back for a second, for two damn seconds, and she’d been whisked away by some frat boy, and come back to him with a crazy happy look in her eye that he didn’t notice until an hour later.

“Where did you go, kid?” He’d asked, and she’d shrugged like it was nothing.

“Needed the bathroom,” She said, and he hadn’t even noticed it was a lie until the light struck her eye for more than a couple seconds and he saw just how dilated her pupils were, like the blackness swallowed her iris whole, and the way she buzzed on the spot with more energy than she’d had in months.

She was supposed to be getting better, and she was trying, really she was.

But she couldn’t stop seeing the blood on her hand, couldn’t stop seeing Emily’s face now she could actually sleep again.

Spencer was half way through his fourth re-read of War and Peace, in its original Russian translation, when he got the knock on the door.

It was 10pm, he muttered to himself, who was bothering him at this time.

But of course, as luck would have it, it was the one person who he hadn’t stopped thinking about, the one person who he hadn’t stopped thinking about for the past three years.

“Spencerrrrrrr!” She chirped, and immediately alarm bells were ringing in his head, her fingers linked with Morgan’s as if he’d all but pulled her to his apartment from the cab.

She wasn’t stumbling, and she smelled a little like alcohol, but not so much that her inhibitions would be completely destroyed, so he knew it wasn’t that. And Derek looked guilty, a serious kind of guilty like he’d suggested they take a drive on a motorbike with no helmet, or go chasing unsubs unarmed.

It wasn’t until she flung her arms over his shoulders, and he’d pulled her inside, Morgan following behind with a nervous clear of his throat that he realised what it was.

“Spencerrrr, I missed you! I missed you so much, Spencer!” And usually he’d love the way she said his name, but this time it was tainted, too false, too electrified. It barely even sounded like her, he hated the way his heart still pounded out of his chest at the fact she pressed herself so close in that little clubbing top of hers, those tight jeans.

“What did she take?” He ignored her little hums of a song he couldn’t hear, the way she pushed herself even further into his body in a way he knew too well felt like a warm hug throughout her entire being. “Morgan!”

Spencer had never snapped at him, not since his own days on whatever it was he was doing, and Morgan ran a hand over his face as she nuzzled her nose into his neck.

“I don’t know, I swear. I turned my back for two seconds to get us another drink, and next thing I know this senior is hitting on her and she’s shoving gum in her mouth and coming back towards the bar- I don’t know what it was, I swear I thought it was gum, man,” Derek rushed, hating the look of desperation in Spencer’s eyes as he yanked her away from him with a small mewl of protest from her mouth.

“Hey, hey, sweetheart, look at me,” He murmured, and she did, and he saw almost immediately the way her pupils were the size of saucers when she stared at him, crazed and intoxicated, “Do you remember what you took? I need to know so I can keep you safe,”

“You always keep me safe, so safe with Spencer,” She giggled to herself, trying to pull him back to her, but he wouldn’t budge, not until he got a real answer, “Come on, I’m going to be fine, it was just a little Molly, nothing to worry about. Kid even gave me a half for like ten dollars because he said I was reeeeeal pretty. Do you think I’m pretty Spence? I think you’re pretty, I think you’re super pretty,”

They felt themselves sigh in relief, because while still a drug, half of one pill shouldn’t really do much, especially if it was the cheap stuff going around frat houses that the DEA was having a field day with.

Morgan looked at Spencer, where he let her shove her face against him once more, wrapping his arms around her back and feeling her sigh in relief that she was back there under his warm touch, and they shared the same thought.

This never happened.

Because if it did, it meant opening a can of worms Spencer had tried for years to shut tight. It meant acknowledging that the reason Morgan came to him and no one else was because he knew Spencer would know how to handle her when she was coming down in an hour or so. It meant acknowledging why Spencer would know that, and why they hadn’t acknowledged it the first time around. It meant their jobs would be on the line, and so was hers, and as much as she was struggling at the moment, they knew she just slipped up, and that this wasn’t who she was. They knew she could be better, that Spencer would force her to get better, because if the only other option was having her turn into who he used to be, then he was handing in his notice first thing Monday morning.

That wasn’t an option in Spencer’s books, nor was it in Morgan’s.

So Morgan left with a little pat on the back of her head, claiming she was a little troublemaker, though he hadn’t quite sounded as teasing as he’d intended and more bitter, and leaving Spencer with her to minimise the damage.

Bugsy let him lead her to the spare room that once was hers, but she didn’t quite care enough to say anything other than, “I missed you so much,” As she pushed her face into his neck more.

He sighed, sitting her down on the bed, knowing where she’d left some of her makeup wipes in his bathroom.

“Stay right here, I’ll be right back,” But she whined again, making a grab for his hand, which he quickly avoided, feeling mean for it the moment he saw her face scrunch in hurt. He stroked her hair behind her ear, watching her melt under his touch, and it almost felt like nothing had changed, like she had never moved out, and like she hadn’t just burst back into his life after popping a bit of molly and turning his evening upside down, “I missed you so much, too, Bug,”

And he wasn’t lying. Not even a little bit.

She looked up at him with those dazed pupils, as big as dimes as they batted up at him dreamily, and some awful part of him always wanted her to be looking at him like that, like everything he ever did in his life was perfect and he was a god among men. Like she was seeing her favourite movie for the first time on the big screen, when in reality he was just wiping her makeup off her face and handing her spare clothes to change into so she could sleep off the come down.

It wasn’t until he tried to leave again to go get her some water that she put up a real fight, one that couldn’t be fought off with a gentle touch (he tried), and she was quick to grab his wrist, tug him closer to her.

“Bug, I’m getting you-”

“Come lay down with me, let’s talk. I love talking to you, why haven’t we talked in so long?” She said like every barrier she ever put up had come tumbling down and her mouth was a free for all for her every thought.

Spencer smiled despite himself, his honeycomb eyes soft as he shuffled to lay beside her, and they stared at one another, heads against the same pillow, and she looked soft than an angel laying on his bed waiting for a response. She looked happy for the first time in a long time, and he hated how much it suited her.

“You moved out, remember, bug? You said you wanted to go home and I didn’t want to stop you,” He said gently, like he didn’t want to upset her. But she just giggled and shook her head like he’d told her a joke.

“Oh, yeah. But I didn’t really want to go home. I wanted to be with you. I want to be with you forever,” Bugsy giggled to herself, wiggling her toes inside her socks and running a finger up his arm gently as she lay on her side, “I missed you so much,”

His brow furrowed, “What do you mean you didn’t want to go home?” But she wasn’t listening, she was tracing over his face with her fingertip, running over his nose gently, past his full lips that quivered under her touch, “Bug,”

“Hm?”

“What do you mean you didn’t want to go home? Why did you leave?” He asked again, and she looked back up at him with a shrug, shuffling closer to him, so close he could feel her breath fan over his cheeks.

“I thought here with you was my home. I wanted it to be.” She said, her fingers finding their way into his nightshirt, “But I felt too guilty being so sad all the time, like I was getting my sad all over you and you couldn’t do anything about it because I was the loser girl with the dead sister you had to look after,”

His eyes burned with emotion, and he willed himself not to cry, because suddenly it made sense why she had pulled away so fast. She looked at him like he’d hung the damn cosmos in the sky; had he not even paid attention to the letter she’d written Emily. She felt like she was dragging him down, the way she felt about everyone in her life, and decided to cut herself free before she took him with her. And look where that had landed her.

He felt like a fool.

“No, no,” Spencer whispered, pulling her into his arms, because he was scared that come morning she would take a million steps back and up and leave him all over again, “That’s not true, that could never happen, you hear me? I liked taking care of you, I wanted to take care of you.”

“Really?” She asked hopefully, her face soft and dream-like, “I liked taking care of you too, when you would let me,”

It was true he had tried to push his own feelings on the back burner, besides the few times the dam had cracked and he wound up with his head in her lap receiving the brunt of the affection that evening. He didn’t know why he ever doubted she would have wanted to do that; when he had his migraines she had done nothing but love on him until he felt full to the brim of her warmth.

He felt himself chuckle, and she shuffled entirely into his arms then squashing out any last molecule of space left between them, and his hand slid over the back of her head, fingers rubbing softly into the nape of her neck which only made her moan loudly, entirely unaware of how sensitive her skin was from the molly.

“That feels nice, Spencer,” She hummed, her thighs straddling his own as she squished herself against him more, “You feel so nice, I love you so much.”

He would be lying if he said the sounds she was making didn’t shoot straight to his dick, and hoped more than anything that she couldn’t feel how it pressed against his stomach angrily. His heart beat rattled loudly, and he swore she had to be able to hear it.

“I love you too,” Spencer sighed, wishing he could have said this to her sober. Wishing she wouldn’t shut him out so easily, wishing he’d pushed her walls a little harder.

Then she did something he wasn’t expecting. It took all of two seconds for him to close his eyes and hum in content, where her hands were playing with the soft of his waist, and his fingertips stroked her jaw gently, but in a quick movement she planted her lips on his in a soft, sweet peck that he barely had time to register was happening before he pulled away in shock.

She kissed him. She had kissed him.

And he wanted her so badly, wanted her in every way it was possible to have someone, wanted to kiss her so hard his face went blue and his lips went numb and his throat burned with lack of oxygen. But he would never dare do anything when she was like this; vulnerable, intoxicated, unaware that the pill she’d taken had acted like a truth serum.

“We’re so silly,” Bugsy giggled, and for a moment she looked twenty two again, like the girl that had answered the door to him in college in nothing but her boxers and a shirt, with her metal music playing so loud he could hear it ringing in his ears minutes after she’d switched it off. She looked like his Bugsy again.

Spencer chuckled with her incredulously, feeling his face on fire from her action, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his chest that had been immovable for months, because as hard as her come down would hit her, things seemed different now, like they actually had a kicking chance of getting through the grief together.

But before he could say anything else, her eyes had fluttered shut under the warmth of his palm, and she had drifted off to sleep.

He guessed he’d have to tell her tomorrow.

–

taglist:

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#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #matthew grey gubler x reader

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loveyouprongs · 9 months ago

Text

are you awake?

prompt: "are you awake yet?" "no." "oh, okay sorry." remus lupin x reader

upcoming content: fluff! pls lmk if u think i missed anything. 1.8k words

authors note: despite any photos used in the header, it’s important that people of all races can identify with my work so please let me know if any of the descriptive language i use is exclusionary, i’m trying my best!

masterlist

you had no idea what time it was, your phone abandoned on the night stand atop remus' book. he had come over in a huff, one hand holding his cellphone, keys, and book all at once, the other holding a warm cup of hot chocolate he had picked up along the way.

"rem, is that you?" you called, fumbling with wrapping a towel around your just washed hair while keeping the other towel tucked under your arms. you weren't expecting to see him today at all, he had, in his own words, a fucking shitload of reading to catch up on and planned on spending the entire weekend holed up in his room.

you understood, having just finished your own finals, so you planned on spending the evening watching movies and finally removing the old nail polish that decorated your toes and repainting them. an easy, uneventful night.

“yeah, it’s me dove,” remus said, bending down to untie his laces, “sorry for just barging in on you like thi- did you just take a shower?”

he snapped his head up and drank you in, your body still damp from the hot water and the ends of the towel wrapped around your chest fell apart against your thigh revealing more of your smooth skin. your face was free of makeup or the tendrils of hair that constantly fell between your eyes that remus always brushed away.

“y’don’t have to do that every time, remus,” you said on your fourth date when his fingertips danced against your forehead once more that evening.

“you have to be able to see, darling, i don’t mind,” he replied as if this was something he was doing as a favor to you and not because he was so desperate to touch you in any way.

you looked beautiful, he thought.

“thank you, baby,” you let out, giggling at the sigh of your boyfriend still bent half over himself, looking up at you as if you would disappear if he wasn’t.

“did i say that out loud?”

“you did.”

“well, it’s true,” he had since walked over to you, setting his phone, keys, book and cup on the table and grasped at your shoulders, stamping a kiss to your forehead. in this moment, he felt all his tension wash away and reveled in the feeling of your warm skin under his and the vanilla scent of your shampoo wafting around him. he didn’t even remember why he was in such an annoyed mood earlier until you asked him how come he came over.

“ugh, i have to move out!” he exclaimed. this is something remus said maybe four times a week, seven if it was really bad. when james left his dishes piled up in the sink for too long, “i have to move out!” remus would say while ranting to you over breakfast the next day. when they went on a trip for a few days and sirius forgot to pack any underwear so he took it upon himself to borrow remus’, you woke up to a text from your boyfriend that simply read “i have to move out.” sent at 2:18 a.m. then “good morning” at 2:19 a.m. and “you better not be awake right now, dovey” at 2:20 a.m.

“what happened this time?”

“was trying to study ‘til those idiots had the bright idea of rolling bottles down the stairs, i mean who even thinks of that?”

you had to bite your lip to keep in your laughter. you had seen that trend all down your social media so you knew exactly where they got the idea from. but your sweet remus who had no profiles whatsoever, -unless you count the facebook page he made when james told him he had to have one at least-

“what do you mean it doesn’t count? you can share photos and talk to people.”

“it’s facebook! only mums use it. i’m making you a BeReal.”

“you’re making me be real?”

“oh, nevermind.”

had no idea and believed this was just another stupid activity his roommates shared brain cell came up with.

“i don’t know, remmy, people are weird,”

“right? anyway, i sat through listening to ‘clunk, clunk, clunk, smash! again, again, again!’ for about fifteen minutes before i had to get out of there so i thought to come here.”

a warmth started growing within your chest and spreading throughout your entire body. he thought to come here, to your place. your lanky, fluffy haired, nerdy boyfriend who you loved so so much thought to come to you. the smile that had spread across your face was so wide you knew remus knew exactly how you were feeling.

“don’t go all moony eyed on me now, sweetness,” he began, “i’m here because i still have a lot of work to do.”

“of course”

“with no distractions, at least for the next few hours,” he was looking down at you with a familiar look in his eye and you couldn’t even bother to feign cluelessness. the image of remus bent over a book, concentrated look on his face and glasses slowly slipping down his nose was irresistible to you and when you two studied together, it caused a lot of assignments to go untouched.

“alright, i’ll leave you be. but i expect some form of compensation for my good behavior.”

“hence the hot chocolate, for you dove,” he handed you the tall paper cup he had brought in with him and you smiled as it was still warm enough to drink.

“oh wow, my boyfriend and a hot chocolate? it’s like my birthday!” you laughed as remus rolled his eyes and started setting himself up at your kitchen table.

“you can’t say that whenever i get you something, you need to have higher expectations for your birthday silly girl, or i really will just get you a drink and that’ll be it.” he said and the last thing he heard was you laughing down the hallway.

hours had passed and your hair was dry, toe nails now a light peachy color, and one and a half movies had been watched. you mainly kept to your room, only coming out to get a drink and set some biscuits out for remus who hadn’t even looked up. you were sure a bomb could off in the building across the street and he wouldn’t notice. he was so concentrated that all you wanted to do was press your fingers to his temples and relieve his pretty face of the wrinkles, surely his eyes were sore as well, but you knew better than to bother him.

it wasn’t until it was dark out that remus had finally slumped against your bedroom door and trudged like a zombie to your bed, face planting right into your lap. his calves were hanging over the edge so you grabbed his face and shuffled yourselves closer to the headboard. remus was laughing, the feel of his lips tickling your stomach, and with that information he only began to blow raspberries on your belly button.

“remus stop i’m serious!” you let out and lifted his head up, your hands pushing his cheeks up causing his lips to reach up into a smile. he looked so soft, and happy, but obviously tired.

“‘m finished with all m’reading, dove,” his speech was slurred, surely from exhaustion.

“i’m very proud of you baby, you’re so hard working.”

he wrapped the comforter around both of you, and flipped onto his side, pressing his back to your front. he must have been really out of it because he never let you be the big spoon.

“but don’t you like being held?”

“i like holding you. besides it just makes more sense that way, i’m much taller.”

“there’s no sense to cuddling!”

“there’s sense to everything!”

“i am hard working! and they don’t care, all they care about is smashing things and making lots of noise. i have to move out.” he grumbled.

you ran your fingers through his hair, letting him mumble on, knowing he’ll soon fall asleep.

“well, you’re always welcome here, my love.”

he sighed and pressed a kiss to your wrist, “i know,” he spoke softly, the two words so full of content he could hardly stand it. he thought every day how lucky he was to have you in his life. a love full of soft kisses and hot chocolates and intertwining under moonlight. “i love you so much.”

“i love you too, now get some sleep.”

the night had come and gone, remus sleeping away in your arms and the sun was shining through your curtains. you slowly lifted your arm off him and felt around for your phone, careful not to disturb him. the screen flashed 10:15 a.m., meaning remus had been sleeping for close to twelve hours now.

it made sense due to how tired he was yesterday, but you had done nothing but relax, so your body was ready to get up and start the day. you answered a few messages telling marlene you’d had to get back to her about if you and remus could make it to brunch in a few hours and sending a rolling eyes emoji to james who sent you a number of videos of bottles rolling down the stairs.

remus shifted, unconsciously flexing his back, and you froze. it wasn’t until he began cracking his knuckles individually that you knew he was awake, you still asked though.

“are you awake yet.”

“no.”

“oh, okay, sorry.”

“mmm.”

two minutes passed, “are you awake now.”

“are my eyes open?”

“no, but you are speaking to me, and this isn’t what you usually say when you sleep talk.”

“i don’t sleep talk!” he let out, craning his neck to look at you perplexedly.

“got you to open your eyes, didn’t i?” you said with a wry smile. his look of confusion morphed into annoyance that you both knew was fake and he fully turned so you were both facing each other now.

“i haven’t slept that good in a long time,” he said lowly, his voice still rough from sleep.

“finals are over now, rem, you can sleep for as long as you want.”

he smiled and tangled your fingers together, opening his mouth to say something back when his stomach rumbled loudly.

“that wasn’t very sexy, was it?”

you giggled and shook your head, finally throwing the covers off yourself.

“nope, but that’s okay, marlene wants us to meet her for brunch in thirty minutes, so we better get a move on, sleepy head.”

remus groaned and reached for his designated dresser from the bed and pulled out whatever shirt and bottoms were on the top of the piles. the two of you got ready in comfortable silence and while you were sitting on the floor, pulling up the zipper on your boots, remus realized that he really could see himself moving in here. always doing his course work at your kitchen table, picking up a hot drink for you at the coffee shop two streets away, not because it was on his way to you, but because it was on his way home.

“ready, baby?” you asked, now standing at full height, holding your hand out to him.

i’m ready to wake up here every morning. “ready,” he said, wrapping his hand around yours.

#remus lupin #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin fic #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #mauraders #mauraders fandom #remus lupin fanfiction #maurauders era #marauders fanfiction #remus lupin fancast #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin drabble #remus fluff #remus imagine #remus x reader #remus x fem!reader #loveyouprongs

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mirandasidefics · 2 months ago

Text

Autumn Leaves

(Late Submission for @erisweekofficial Prompt: Bonds/Bargains 👑)

Pairing(s): Eris x Archeron Sister! Reader

Summary: Eris never anticipated to find his Mate in a former human.

Word Count: 3.1K

Warning(s): Mention of traumatic childbirth, mentions of Beron (he’s a trigger all on his own these days).

Author’s Note: BASED ON THIS REQUEST. I felt that this scenario fit perfectly with the prompt of Bonds/Bargains for Eris Week. I hope that this fits well with what you had wanted anon! I know the request specifically asked for Reader to be the youngest, but I felt that it would be a bit more inclusive to leave the birth order more ambiguous for those that maybe don’t relate to being the youngest sibling. My brain wasn’t functioning enough to allow me to write an understandable dance scene, so…sorry that it's not as descriptive as I would have preferred. I also didn’t go back to review any of the events that occurred in ACOWAR or ACOSF, so if it’s not exactly canon compliant just ignore that. Also, Lucien was at the Hewn City solstice ball for this because I said so.

Special thanks to @hardcoremarvelfan for beta reading and coming up with the title for this. Also, there will very likely be a part 2.

dividers by @/tsunami-of-tears ACOTAR Masterlist

The first time Eris saw the Made female he was immediately intrigued. She was quiet and stoic, much like the two sisters she accompanied for the High Lord’s meeting. Her eyes, the same shade as her sisters, appeared cold as she took in the room. It was clear she was observing more than she let on, gaze trained forward yet keenly aware of every single one of the High Lords and their various entourages. It was apparent to Eris that she saw more than her sisters, perhaps even more than his brother’s mate who was rumored to have been gifted the powers of a Seer by the Cauldron. He could feel the power that radiated off this fourth sister and couldn’t help but wonder what gifts she may have been granted.

The second time he saw her was at the end of the battle with Hybern on the edge of the Spring and Summer Court border. Her eyes appeared distant as if she was separated from her body and the gore that surrounded her. But his answer regarding her gift had been answered as a circle of ice forged spears surrounded her. At least a dozen bodies were skewered while she stood stock still in the center of the circle. He had been compelled to approach her, but his brother got to her first, asking if she was okay and if she had seen his mate. After a single nod and a pointed finger towards a series of tents Lucien gently guided her away from the carnage she wrought.

The third time he saw her was at the solstice ball in the Hewn City over a year later. Dressed in a drab black gown clearly intended to prevent her from sticking out. However, it wouldn’t have mattered if she was dressed down or in the most lavish of gowns. Eris’ eyes were instantly drawn to her as soon as she processed along with the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court. His youngest brother was by her side as an escort. As she approached the dias with her family, her eyes found his own, and Eris felt the world tilt on its axis. It took all of his mental will power to remain upright at the realization of what she was to him. Mate.

Eris couldn’t remove his eyes from the female as Rhysand made his speech. Nor could he remove them when the music started and various Fae in attendance began to dance. He followed every one of her steps as she was escorted towards the dance floor, a beautiful smile spread wide across plush pink lips. He was vaguely aware of Rhysand's approach, his introduction to the High Lady’s sister. The only one that was dressed to be admired by the eyes of others. Nesta, he believed it was. But Eris wasn’t interested in the female that stood before him. He held up a hand, instantly silencing the High Lord, and simply pointed to the sister on the dance floor.

“What is her name?” He asked, the light russet gaze never faltering. Eris could feel the tension in Nesta’s shoulders as she followed his gesture. Rhysand, always one to never give away his thoughts, supplied her name. Eris repeated it, the name tasting like honeyed wine in his mouth. Nesta attempted to redirect the conversation and offered Eris a dance, but the Autumn Heir ignored her.

“Any bargains that you wish to make will be offered by her,” Eris’ voice was smooth as his eyes finally met purple. “Shall I introduce myself or will you make the introduction for me?” Rhysand turned his head towards the direction where Lucien spun her around as the two waltzed. His youngest brother’s head whipped in their direction, before he halted his dance and brought her over for a formal introduction. As expected, the female politely accepted Eris’ invitation for a dance.

That first dance was all it took for Eris to know he didn’t want to be separated from her moving forward. Her demeanor was so different from what he had observed when he was only able to watch her from afar. He danced with only her for the remainder of the celebration and found himself completely enraptured by her. While he could tell that she wasn’t as strong a dancer as her sister, whom he caught out of the corner of his eye, it didn’t deter his conviction of only wanting to be by her side. Conversation flowed freely and easily as they danced. She was sharp witted, with a penchant for dry sarcasm. Her wry smile and her laugh ignited something deep within.

Eris always had a drive to protect those he cared for, such as his Mother and Lucien, but the desire to keep her safe was stronger than anything he had experienced before. He couldn’t leave her in the Night Court, even if most of her time was spent in a city far safer than the one in which they danced. However, she couldn’t exactly join him in the Autumn lest he run the risk of her becoming one of Beron’s targets to keep Eris in line. For the first time in decades, Eris didn’t know what to do.

“Is everything alright my Lord?” Her voice was filled with nothing but genuine gentle concern. His eyes refocused from their far away haze, taking in her sharp features. Features that were so indicative of the High Fae. Looking at her one would never guess that she used to be human.

“Eris,” He corrected. “Please.”

“Is everything alright, Eris?” Her cheeks flushed with the slightest tinge of pink. His own heart stirred at her reaction to the use of his name. Their dance had come to a halt, and he hadn’t even realized the musicians were taking a break.

“Yes,” He cleared his throat. “Just a bit lost in thought.” She nodded her head, taking a slight step back from his hold on her waist. Eris had to refrain from the desire to pull her back towards his chest.

“I’ve enjoyed our time together,” She took a look towards her sisters. All three were huddled against the edge of the dance floor. Nesta and Feyre’s sharp steel gazes attempted to pierce through the mask that Eris held in place. While the other, whose name he had sadly forgotten, had a glazed over look. Upon focusing, he noticed that the brown was nearly obscured by milky white. He heard the female in front of him gasp, her eyes trained on the Seer. Her head whipped back towards him, giving a slight nod.

“I hope that we are able to count on your discretion about the Trove,” Her speech was rushed and she gathered the bottom of her skirts. “I’m certain that the High Lord will provide support to any claim you have to being the Heir.” With a quick second bow in parting she turned to rush over to her sisters.

Before she got too far, Eris grasped her elbow and asked, “Would you come visit me? In Autumn?” She blinked at him. Almost as if she was surprised by his desire to see her again.

“I must get to my sister,” She glanced back across the hall, at the High Lady trying to gain the attention of the Seer who was clearly lost in a vision.

“I understand,” He released his grip and nodded solemnly. “I will write to you.” She blinked again. What he wouldn’t give to know what that beautiful mind was processing. She gave him a curt nod, before she quickly made her way across the hall.

Eris couldn’t even last a week before sending his first letter. Again he asked if she would be interested in visiting his home court. She provided no answer or any acknowledgement of his question. Of course this didn’t deter Eris as they continued to exchange letters. With each one he would make his offer, enticing her with descriptions of celebrations and various traditions. He would tell her about his Hounds and his Mother. Yet she continued to not provide an answer to his offer. This same pattern went on for three months before Eris had enough of the tip-toeing around the subject. He was determined to get an answer, even if it was “No”.

Eris arrived at what he assumed was Rhysand’s townhouse as the High Lord had instructed in his brief correspondence with the Autumn Heir. He tapped the back of his knuckles on the large oak door. A few brief moments drifted by with no response. No movement could be heard from inside either. He peered his head towards the large bay window at the front, but the curtains were drawn shut.

His heartbeat began to quicken with each passing moment as there continued to be no response. Eris was wholly unfamiliar with the city. He had no clue where to even begin looking for his mate. He was under the impression that he was at least expected by Rhysand. So why was no one here?

Eris turned, prepared to winnow to the Hewn City in the hopes that Keir may have knowledge of where the High Lord could be, despite how unlikely that prospect was. Instead, he came face to face with an ethereal looking female. Skin and hair dark as shadows. A billowy white dress hugged her frame, yet appeared as if it was floating in a barrier of invisible water. It took him a minute to recognize her as one of Rhysand’s half wraith servants from Under the Mountain.

“They are all at the High Lord and Lady’s home,” The female began to explain without preamble. “If you would follow me.” She turned, not bothering to ensure that the Autumn Lord followed. When the pair approached the near ostentatiously large home near the riverfront, screams could be heard from inside. If his heart hadn’t already been on the verge of an attack it surely was now. The half-wraith opened the front entrance, beckoning Eris to follow.

No sooner as he stepped inside did his mate come surrying down the main staircase of the foyer. A pile of blood stained sheets spilling over her arms. Her eyes were rimmed in scarlet. Stepping onto the bottom landing she finally looked up, taking notice of the male.

“Eris,” Her voice was no more than a whisper. Her lower lip wobbled, teeth sinking into it to prevent the tremble. Eris didn’t bother with formality, taking quick strides to meet her. As he reached her side, she dropped the pile of fabric and allowed her arms to encircle his waist. Her body shook with her sobs as her finger dug into his shoulders.

“Feyre went into labor unexpectedly,” She cried into the elaborate brocade of his tunic. “The babe…his wings…” She couldn’t get her thoughts out in a coherent manner without the sobs overtaking her completely. “ They’re dying, Eris.” She wailed upon hearing her own words spoken aloud. He pulled her in tighter to his chest, his other hand gently rubbing in soothing circles along her shoulders. Eris had no words that could provide her with any sort of comfort, making him feel as if he was already failing her as her Mate. All the male could do was hold her and hope that she didn’t feel as alone in her grief if the High Lady of the Night Court somehow didn’t survive.

Suddenly, Elain called out to her sister from the top of the staircase, “Come quick! Nesta she…” The warm brown eyes of the middle sister swam with unshed tears, a smile graced her features as well. Eris’ shoulders relaxed as the female's expression could only be an indication of good news. His mate quickly detached herself from his hold, racing back towards where the family convened.

As soon as the two were out of sight, Eris looked around the foyer. He quickly found a small bench and sat down. He had never felt more awkward in his life. While he had developed a correspondence with this particular sister, he wasn’t exactly part of the family just yet.

Eris sat in the hall, waiting for what felt like hours for his mate to return. Once she did, she escorted him into a large sitting room.

“They’re going to live,” She smiled, sitting down in a chair across from him. She smoothed out her skirt, tucking in a corner that had somehow ended up with blood spatter staining the material. Eris merely hummed in acknowledgment. He didn’t know what to do with himself now that they had a moment alone like this. He had planned this elaborate greeting and proposal for her to come and visit, not giving her the room to ignore the request. However, that all went right out the proverbial window. His hands straightened the fabric of his shirt, then went to remove a non-existent strand of hair from his trousers, before finally resting on his lap.

“You’re fidgeting,” She pointed out. Her smile grew as she suppressed a giggle. He was happy to see that her mood had lifted so quickly. It made the reason for his visit appear less strange, inappropriate even given the intensity of the events that occurred. She gently placed one of her hands over his. Her delicate fingers soothing and calming the rolling fire that he didn’t even notice had built up within himself. He allowed himself to grasp her hand in return, interlacing their digits. The sensation of fire against ice erupted throughout his being. Opposite yet still a perfect complement of powers. Eris couldn’t help but wonder what they would be able to achieve together.

“Eris,” Her voice pulled him from his thoughts, his deep hues meeting her own cool gaze. “I’m happy to see you, but what are you doing here?” He swallowed, suddenly realizing that his actions were a bit sudden and perhaps not as well thought out as he intended. His arrival without notice to her would be unexpected. He only informed Rhysand that he needed to speak to Archeron female, but never explained why.

“I,” He began, voice cracking. His pale features flushed and he was reminded of his younger days when his voice hovered between childhood and deeper timber of maturity. The female before him suppressed another giggle behind her unclasped hand.

“I’m here because you consistently ignore a very specific question,” His gaze was steady, exuding what he hoped would be seen as confidence and not the uncertainty he felt. “I’ve come to ask one final time. If you say no, I will not burden you with asking ever again.”

“Eris,” She pulled her hand away, eyes now unable to meet his own.

“I acknowledge that Autumn is not always considered the most beautiful, what with the decay that can accompany the season in the mortal lands, so if you don’t like it-”

“Why would I not like the place where my mate lives?” Her perfect brows furrowed as she looked at him. Eris was at a loss for words.

“When…” He couldn’t finish the sentence. However, it appeared that he didn’t need to as her response was a perfect correlation to what was on his mind.

“Since the Winter Solstice,” She said. “When you first asked me to come visit.” It was Eris’ turn to blink in stunned silence. She had given no indication of being aware of who he was to her. Then again, he also hadn’t explicitly made their bond known. Perhaps he was wrong in thinking that his actions were obvious.

“It’s not that I’m afraid that I won’t like it there,” She went on. “I’m actually afraid that I would not want to leave. But I simply can’t abandon my sisters.” She lowered her head, averting her gaze from the embarrassment. However, Eris understood the desire to be with her siblings. The same desire to ensure the well-being and safety of his younger brothers was one of his reasons for not abandoning the Autumn court. For enduring the cruelty of his Father for nearly 5 centuries.

“I would never ask that you do,” He assured. “In fact, I wouldn’t want you to call the Autumn Court home just yet anyway. Not while my father still breathes.”

“I’m not afraid-”

“I am,” Eris admitted quietly. “I can’t risk anything happening to you.” He meant it, and was surprised at how easily the truth slipped from him. But it was just the two of them at this moment. He didn’t have to hide behind that mask when with her. He tucked a strand of (h/c) hair behind the perfectly pointed arch of her ear. He watched a shiver run through her as his flesh met hers.

“There are some places where I can keep you safe,” He explained, all of his thoughts spewing forth as his mind raced to prove that he could keep her safe enough for short visits. “Places where my Father doesn’t have the loyalty of the subjects, but they are loyal to me. I have a cabin, just along the borders of Summer and Winter. Close enough for you to run across either should the need arise. I’d prefer Summer, there is a temple not far from the border where you could claim sanctuary until Rhysand or one of the brutes could get you.”

“Eris…”

“Please,” He implored. “I do not wish to scare you away or force you to come. But I cannot stay separated from you much longer. My brother is the one with the endless amounts of patients when it truly matters.” She laughed, the melodic and soft sound made him feel light.

“How often can we meet?” She inquired. Her bright blue eyes lit with anticipation of when they could have their time.

“I can secure a few days away every month,” He explained, almost more to himself than her as he considered the variety of excuses he would need to utilize. “Maybe up to a week at most. The time of month would need to vary as well. Any semblance of a pattern would tip my Father off. He’s just paranoid enough to assume that I’d be planning some type of conspiracy against him.” Of course, his Father’s fears were not without reason. Eris was indeed planning to usurp the High Lord. Someday.

“Alright then,” She beamed. “I will come and visit. Every month so long as it is safe and as long as I am able to return to my sisters.” Eris felt the corners of his mouth lift up, and soon she mirrored the expression. His heart flipped, and he had to clear his throat to regain control of his senses.

“Then I shall send word when everything is ready.” He stood, preparing to leave when she clasped his hand again.

“Stay for a while Eris,” Her voice was soothing, making it feel like she wasn’t giving him a command. Even if she had, he would have gladly done anything she bid of him. He knew in that instant he would do anything for her.

General Tag list: @loving-and-dreaming @samslulumelon

#acotar x reader #eris vanserra x reader #eris x reader #eris x you #eris x y/n #erisweek2024

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ozzgin · 9 months ago

Note

A nice character with a yandere split persona. The Yandere persona was born out of the abandonment of the character by a loved one, maybe mom. Did he kill her just so she could stay? Maybe. Only the Yandere persona knows, the character is oblivious, he just knows his mom left him. But he oddly feels ok about it as though the situation has been reconciled... which is weird to him.

Now he meets and falls in love with yn. She must not leave. It's f around and find out

Btw I love you ❤️❤️❤️ The Yokai series is my fave

Oooh, I’ve been thinking of a context for your idea and I somehow got stuck on a serial killer who is unaware of it most of the time. Since you mentioned abandonment and obsession, my mind wandered to some of the typical habits, such as collecting trophies. I’ve also been wanting to try my hand at writing a serial killer, so hopefully it turns out to your liking. (Sending back the love, always a pleasure to see your comments ❤)

Although let me include a little disclaimer, because I am aware many things in the sphere of true crime are problematic: this in no way glorifies or romanticizes serial killers. Just a reminder that this is a work of fiction and all behaviors displayed are for the sake of an interesting story, not to be admired in real life.

Yandere! Serial Killer x Reader

You're temporarily staying with a kind, quiet man renting out a room in the house he inherited. It's just the two of you, and a locked bedroom he claims to be vacant. Yet as night falls, you hear the whispered arguing of a voice you don't recognize. Is anyone else there?

[Part 2] | [More original works]

Content/TW: female reader, mentions of murder, obsessive behavior, horror

You must break the pattern today, or the loop with repeat tomorrow

He stares at the locked drawer of the bureau. The clock ticking in the background fades into an irritating buzz, drumming against his ears at irregular intervals like a swarm of insects. Once again, he cannot remember where the key is. Yet he does not feel compelled to search for it. It cannot be anything of significance, he tells himself. Forgotten knick-knacks, perhaps. Despite the apparent lack of curiosity, he is drawn here every morning. He wakes up, carefully folds the sheets, and goes to sit in the office. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Until, at last, the noon hour strikes, and the hallways are flooded with ghastly chimes.

Lately, however, other sounds have taken over the usual silence that envelops the house. The main door rattles faintly before opening with a creak.

“They were out of our bread rolls. I got a baguette instead.”

It’s you.

He stands up, as if startled from deep slumber, and hurries downstairs to greet you. He takes the grocery bags from your hands, flashing a smile of gratitude. Somehow, the idea of another person living here is still foreign to him. He’s gotten so used to the solitude, the quietness of the house. Time stands still when there’s no one else to remind you of it.

You glance up at the tall man, noticing his slight frown.

“Another brain fog?” You ask, worried.

“Don’t mind me. It’s a morning routine at this point”, he jokes. “More importantly, what would you like for breakfast?”

He always cooks for both of you. Initially, you were rather hesitant to go for his offer. You’d been looking for temporary accommodation and stumbled upon his advertisement. A cozy, vintage house the man had inherited from his lamentably departed mother, with one too many spare rooms. He had no need for all the space, he said in his description. You paid him a visit and were taken aback by his appearance. A massive, muscular frame that did not fit the rest of his mannerisms and features. He was soft-spoken, polite, and terribly shy. His eyes reflected the kind of gloom to be expected from anyone in his situation.

A sweet, gentle soul looking for company. On top of that, if you are to be technical, he’s a housemate difficult to compete against. Well-kept, mannered, organized, and thoughtful. He keeps to himself. You’d learned, soon after moving in, that he suffers from the occasional brain fog and memory loss. He goes for walks at odd hours to clear his mind. Enjoys reading in his office, although you’ve caught him just staring into space many times. Terribly inconvenient for the poor lad, you imagine.

The house itself is also not a bad deal by any means. Old fashioned, littered with trinkets and paintings. “My mother liked to collect many things”, he’d told you. It certainly has personality, to put it mildly. Some belongings are more bizarre than others: portraits of faceless people, with features smudged or distorted, doll heads in pompous, feathered collars hanging in clusters across the musty walls. Peculiar, but manageable.

Only at night does it become unsettling.

“Going for a walk?”

You’re curled in one of the armchairs, flipping through a magazine you found. It’s been hours since your little breakfast together and now the sun is beginning to set. The man is buttoning up his coat, standing in the doorframe and gazing at you with a smile.

“Yeah. I’m starting to detach a little. Maybe some fresh air will help.”

It’s nice, he thinks, having you here. He didn’t expect much when he ventured to rent out a room. He just wanted to hear the murmur of life again. Ever since his mother has passed…when did it happen, again? Better yet, how did it happen? Christ, he can’t remember. The last memory he has of her is not something to cherish. She was angrily shoving him out of the way, visibly annoyed by his cries and pleading. “Please don’t leave me”, he kept croaking in a pathetic tone, dragging his knees like a beggar. Then it’s all black. Black, like the cover they kept over her body at the morgue, to hide the mutilated remains. Black, like the tie he struggled to knot before her funeral. At that time, the sheets of her bed were still scattered, as if she never left. He could almost see her there, reflected onto the mirror’s surface – rather dirty as a matter of fact, he should wipe it soon – sitting melancholically on the edge of the mattress.

To think he’d be hearing footsteps again. A soothing voice. Even if it’s temporary, your presence in the house has been a blessing. Even if you must leave eventually. His lips purse involuntarily.

You hear the door close, followed by the key twisting inside the lock. You’re alone now.

With haste, you get up and sprint upstairs. You pull out a hairpin from your pocket and discreetly insert it in the cylinder. Today you find out if the spare bedroom truly is as vacant as your housemate claims.

When you first viewed the house, he mentioned that only this room will remain locked. It was his mother’s and he’d rather not look at it, he said. Let it gather dust, for all he cares.

Only at night, you’ve been hearing someone else’s voice. It didn’t happen immediately. Weeks after you’d moved in, you woke up thirsty and tiptoed on your way to the kitchen for a glass of water. On your return, you were surprised to see dim light coming from underneath the door of the forbidden bedroom. Visitors of your housemate? You hurried back into your bed, not wanting to intrude. But the following night you jolted up from the same mumbled voice. Strange that he’d invite someone over this late - twice in a row! - without saying a word to you. Even more, they were arguing like this. Curiosity got the better of you, so you snuck out and placed your cupped ear against the wall.

“No, no, no, no. I’m telling you, it’s different. She’s different from the others.” A deep, ragged voice retorted angrily.

Suddenly, there was a loud thud, a fist smashing against something, then glass shattering over exasperated, shouted curses. You ran back to your room, baffled. Who on Earth was there? You could feel your heart throbbing inside your chest.

Morning couldn’t come quick enough. You marched over to your housemate, demanding to know who this stranger was. He stared at you, wide eyed and incredulous. “There’s no one else here, dear. Just you and me.” Nonsense. You knew what you heard. You’d been wide awake! He gently placed the back of his hand against your forehead. “Could it be that you’re sick? Weather has been dreadful lately.” You scanned his face with hitched breath. Was he mocking you? Yet his features betrayed no such intent. The man seemed genuinely worried; face twisted in a caring frown.

Then what? A ghost? An intruder that fancied having a chat in a dead woman’s bedroom?

You fiddle with the pin until you hear the click. Finally. Surely whoever has been frequenting the place must’ve left some clues behind. You carefully open the door and peek inside. A broken mirror and some furniture covered in webs. There’s a lingering rusty smell that tickles your nostrils, and soon enough you find the source. Next to the old bed lays a cloth splattered red. On top of it, a leather folder from which scalpels and other surgical tools fell out haphazardly. Blood? Your mouth curls in disgust. You crouch to the floor to inspect the odd items and notice a jar glistening from underneath the bed. You pull it towards you and give it a rattle. Nothing heavy. You lift the jar into the light for a better look and gasp.

Fingernails.

“Oh, I forgot to put those away.”

It’s the same deep voice you’ve been hearing at night. Your stomach drops and you turn, slowly, towards the entrance. Horror is swiftly replaced by confusion once you realize it’s none other than your housemate.

“Y-you’re back from your walk?” You blurt out.

“Walk?” He inquires. “Ah, that’s what he told you.” He steps towards you and lowers himself to your level with a grin.

“Have you come to say hello?” He points towards the tall, shattered mirror. “This is (Y/N), mother. See, I told you she’s stunning. You didn’t believe me.”

He ruffles your hair with a boldness completely unfamiliar.

Nausea overwhelms you and your ears ring in panic. Whatever is happening right now is beyond your understanding.

“I’d like to go to my room now.”

“I recognize that speech all too well. You want to run away.”

Within seconds, he grabs one of the scalpels and points it towards your throat, poking your skin with its cold tip.

“Now, don’t embarrass me in front of her like that. Do you know how hard it is to convince this bitch of anything? I told her you’re not like them, (Y/N). Don’t prove me wrong.”

“Them?” You whisper, lungs devoid of air.

“Come, let’s put this with the others first.” He pockets the scalpel and lifts you up by the hand, tenderly kissing your fingers in the process. “Then we can talk.”

You follow him into the office, and he unlocks one of the desk drawers. Against your better judgment, you stretch over his shoulder and glance inside. ID cards of various women, jewelry, lipsticks. Teeth. Fingernails.

You want to cry.

He nonchalantly dumps the contents of the jar into the drawer and slams it back shut, then throws himself in the chair and pats his thigh, eyeing you. With a sob, you clumsily climb onto his lap.

“Back to our matters. What were you planning on doing?”

“I just wanted to lay in bed.”

He takes out the scalpel and draws a line across your cheek. It stings.

“Don’t lie, (Y/N). You have nothing to gain from being naughty with me.” He coos, placing a kiss over the fresh wound.

“I wanted to run away.” You confess, petrified.

“Good. Do you now understand what happens if you try to run away?”

You briefly look at the drawer and nod.

“I knew you would. You’re so smart.” He strokes your hair fondly. “Not an easy decision to make, mind you. I love you more than anything in this world. Who’d enjoy killing their one and only?”

The man ponders his next words with a hum.

“Don’t count on getting away while he’s awake, either.” He taps his temple and chuckles. “He has no idea and won’t stop you, but I can easily find you again.”

The eggs sizzle in the pan as you stare at your plate, background sounds melting into shapeless static. After a couple more minutes, the man turns off the stove and places the food on the table with a cheerful whistle.

“Eat up!” He encourages you.

You hold onto your fork with faintly trembling hands.

“This might be the last breakfast I cook for you, after all. You’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t you?” His last sentence trails off and he smiles, dejected.

“Actually, I was wondering if I could…stay here instead.”

He gazes at you in disbelief.

“Truly? I-…That’d be fantastic.” He laughs awkwardly and scratches the back of his head, a deep red blush spreading over his cheeks. “Do excuse my rudeness. To be honest with you, I’ve grown quite fond of our arrangement. I really do like having you here.”

You return the smile without responding.

“Most exciting news. I’ll get the documents from the office after we eat, so we can draft a new lease.”

“That’d be lovely”, you answer curtly.

“Say, have you by any chance stumbled upon a small key around the house? I wanted to finally unlock the drawer upstairs, but I can’t remember where I could’ve left it.”

The knot in your stomach tightens.

“Not at all.”

“Don’t sweat it. I’m sure it’s nothing important, anyways. Old memorabilia, most likely.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #yandere fic #yandere imagines #yandere imagine #yandere scenarios #yandere male #yandere killer #yandere male x reader #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere serial killer #yandere original character #horror #split personality #tw yandere

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prettymonegasque · 10 months ago

Text

not acceptable

Charles Leclerc x fem!driver! reader

Summary: Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do when your pretty boyfriend is a lil dumb

Warnings: Excessive cursing, Lando slander, grown men sharing a single brain cell, fluff?

Word Count: 1.3k

Based on my favourite scene in Schitt’s Creek

In all the two years you’ve been in Ferrari, the speculations and rumours of you dating Charles were non-stop. Neither of you paid much attention to it. You were both in happy relationships. However, that changed in the summer of ‘22 when you broke up with your partner. It wasn’t messy and you both agreed it was for the better. You focused on the rest of the season.

Fast forward to the summer of ‘23, you and Charles were both single. You decided to give in to the speculations and give the relationship a real shot. You went on a few dates, each one being more fun than the previous one. Yet neither of you took the leap to become exclusive. You both liked each other but it wasn’t said out loud as much as you would’ve wanted to. So when Charles invited you to a game night with his friends, you thought it would be the one where he introduced you as his girlfriend.

You knocked on his apartment door at 7 pm. You had brought a charcuterie board because you panicked and the first thing your mind thought was cheese.

“Y/N! Come in.” Charles opened the door and hugged you. You tried your best to return while managing the charcuterie board. He laughed at your struggle, took the board from your hand and led you in. You spotted some familiar faces in the room. “Hey, guys. This is Y/N. My teammate as you know.” To risk being dramatic, the only description for what you felt was “death by a thousand cuts”. You still forced a smile and greeted everyone. You took a seat on the sofa next to Charles. “You brought a charcuterie board?” Pierre asked puzzled. “Dibs on gouda.” Yelled a familiar Brit.

**************

For the next few hours, you forced yourself to forget about your “teammate” and focus on the game instead. To everyone’s surprise, you were very good at Monopoly. You had already collected over $7000 worth of assets. You were more than happy to win by default. Arthur suggested Uno and everyone complied. You had never played it before which made the group very happy.

When you got your cards you leaned over to Charles and whispered “What the fuck should I do now? ” Charles peeked at your cards and by instinct you shied them away from him. “You have to show me the cards so I can tell you what to do.” He laughed. You rolled your eyes and showed him the cards. “How the hell did you get 3 +4 cards?” “Why? Is that bad?” “No no. It is very good and I am very grateful my turn is before you.” “I am gonna crush these motherfuckers” You silently giggled.

“Y/N your turn,” Andrea called out. You placed the +4 card on the table. “Seriously?” Lando sighed and took 4 cards from the deck. “I thought you'd never played this before.” “I haven’t. I’m just that good, Norris.” “You know you could put all the +4 cards at once? ” Charles whispered in your ear. When your turn came again you placed both your +4 cards down. “Oh come on. You’re an absolute ass.” Lando exclaimed. “You just got destroyed by a UNO rookie, Lando” Pierre doubled over in laughter. “Also you have only one card left. You can call out UNO” Arthur nudged you. “UNO!” You yelled. “Well, I guess we have a winner. ” Lorenzo sighed and folded.

You started feeling a little guilty. Your winning spree kept cutting the game short. It didn’t look like anyone was having any fun. Even if Charles isn’t going to introduce you as his girlfriend, you still want his friends and brothers to like you as Charles’ girl. Charles brought in Scrabble as his last resort. He wasn’t expecting to go through 2 games so quickly. You were chosen as the judge. You promised yourself to go easy on everyone. You weren’t sure if you were making a good impression on everyone but boy did your ego love this.

**************

“What do you mean ‘rizz’ isn’t accepted?” Arthur yelled. “Mate it isn’t in the dictionary.” “Then why does everyone call Lando ‘NoRIZZ’?” “Hey!” “I consider it as an acceptable word. We know the meaning. It exists. It’s a word.” You chimed in. “Thank you!” Arthur smiled and added 13 points to himself. The game continued and you limited yourself to simple words. And you accepted every word regardless of how ridiculous it was.

“Yes Pierre ‘Fuck’ is a word.”

“I mean we all know what ‘OMG’ is”

“Sure, Charles. You can make Frenglish words.”

You could physically feel the pain from the insanity of some words but you were on a mission. You nodded and smiled and carried on. The words became chaotic by the minute. Your last straw was when Lando argued that “Skibidi” should be accepted.

“That’s it. I can’t take this shit anymore. I respect the game too much to put up with this. You are way too old to use the word ‘Skibidi’, Lando.” “Yeah so wrong, Lando” Pierre fakes disappointment. “You! Fuck is not acceptable.” “Not acceptable. Yes sorry, Y/N” He bites back a laugh. “OMG!? Are you kidding me?” “I wasn’t.” Lorenzo shakes his head. “And my boyfriend sits there looking pretty and wanting to make up Frenglish words. THAT’S NOT EVEN A LANGUAGE. NOT ACCEPTABLE!”

“I’m sorry. What did you just say?” Charles looked up at you. “I said Lando is old.” You tried to shift the conversation. “Why the fuck am I getting slandered?” “No. I think it was something about your boyfriend being pretty and making up words.” Charles redirects you. “Um... I don’t remember saying that.” You mumbled. “Yeah no. That’s what we heard. Right Arthur?” Pierre snickered.

“Hey if my girlfriend says Frenglish isn’t acceptable then it isn’t, guys” Charles smirked. “Or it is. I don’t remember saying it.” You shrugged. “So you can do whatever you like.” The ceiling looked much more interesting than the gorgeous green eyes looking at you. “I think our work is done here. Let’s go guys.” Lando stood up. “And what exactly was that work, Norizz?” You called out as everyone was walking out the door chattering. Lando just smiled at you and closed the door.

You and Charles remained quiet and just looked at each other for a long moment. “I don’t k-” “Do you r-” You both spoke at the same time. Gentle giggles echoed in the silence. “I was gonna ask if you regretted it?” Charles looked at you with a hopeful glint in his eyes. “No. God no. Charles, I don’t regret it at all. But to be honest, I kinda thought you hosted this game night to introduce me as your girlfriend. It sucked ass when you called me your teammate.” You looked down at your feet. You contemplated if sitting down would make this whole shebang less awkward. But Charles quietened your thoughts by standing up and taking your hands in his.

“Cherie, seconds before you knocked, I was having a full-blown panic attack. I really really like you and I wanted us to be official but I didn’t know what you felt. The guys were there for emotional support because I do not trust myself with any high-risk situation.”

“You drive a car at 300 km/hr almost every weekend.”

“Please. That is nothing compared to you. Every time I get in the cockpit, I’m more worried about your safety than mine. I was going to introduce you as my girlfriend. Trust me the word was on the tip of my tongue but I was being a pussy and chickened out. I’m so glad you did it tho.” His smile made those adorable dimples pop as he hugged you. “I’m so glad I did it too.” Your voice came out muffled with your cheek pressed against his chest.

“And I’m so glad you called me pretty.”

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #schitt's creek #schittscreekedit #netflix #fanfics #pretty monegasque

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inuyashaluver · 3 months ago

Note

more leah x lessi x reader please

a bunch of kids - leah williamson, alessia russo

leah williamson x alessia russo x reader

description: in which you and your two girlfriends are just a bunch of kids, random moments in your lovely life

warnings: timeline makes no sense cause i said so - alessia was signed to arsenal a little earlierrrr. polyamory, NO SHIPPING - ALL FICTION, this is my brain rot by the way, i'm rusty!

a/n: you ask and i deliver hehe, how is everyone? i missed you all dearly!! my exam season has simmered and i can now put out more fics!! enjoy my lovesssssss xxx

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

if there was anything to sum up your relationship with your two girlfriends, it was that you were all a massive bunch of kids. there was just something so youthful about your relationship, the joy was incredibly infectious to anyone around you.

alessia and leah, two blondies that were most ardently in love with you, and you with them. the amount of love, trust and happiness imbued in your relationship was so clearly transparent to everyone.

love is special, and these two girls only made it more remarkable.

—

the union of the three of you was a bit of a blur to be honest. you were slightly younger than the two, coming up to the senior teams a little later than them, but boy did you make an impression.

they heard of you, the up-comer from the youth teams, absolutely annihilating everyone from the midfield.

and the moment you stepped through that door from arrivals at st george’s park, sparks flew. and it wasn't even an exaggeration, they both fell in love, then and there, and funnily enough so did you.

the progression was unexpected, but they both knew they had to have you. especially when you scored your first senior goal and the two blondes lingered in an embrace much too long for platonic courtesy - there was something there and it was undeniable.

it just…happened. one minute you're teammates and the other you're moving in together and signing your arsenal contract along with alessia to stay close to each other.

you’ve now been dating for a little over 3 years, the absolute best 3 years of your lives.

—

“lee, i’m trying to change” you giggle, squirming in the strong grasp of your girlfriend, “i’m helping” she laughs, kissing your cheek firmly the moment you stilled, “how are you helping, huh?” you mock, slightly pulling back to the side to get a look at her.

she smiles the moment your eyes meet hers, she kisses the tip of your nose before putting her hand to your cheek to direct your face back to the front.

she lets go, pointing around your cubby, “right, baby, there’s your boots, jersey, shorts, and shin pads right there” she says proudly. you throw your head back laughing, head resting on her shoulder as you and leah now broke out into a fit of giggles.

“you always leave me out!” alessia pouts as she comes from the other side of the room to meet the two of you, you pucker your lips up at her immediately. your other girlfriend immediately cups your face and gives you a kiss, not forgetting leah as well.

“let her get changed, lee babe” alessia laughs, grabbing your hands softly to pull you out of the other girls embrace, “tsk, buzzkill, man” leah groans, kicking the ground with her boot.

alessia raises her eyebrow at leah, and you follow suit, “babe” she rolls her eyes fondly, “much better” alessia grins, winking at leah.

“fine” leah huffs, slipping her hands under your hoodie to take it off hurriedly, you gasp, hitting leah jokingly, letting the oldest blonde slip the jersey on you.

“there, darlin’” alessia giggles at your tousled appearance, “poor baby’s been roughed around” alessia holds her arms out to you and you comply, sitting sidewards on her lap. leah scrambles to grab her phone, taking a photo of both of you as soon as you give her cheesy smiles.

she bussies herself with making it her wallpaper, walking over to beth and steph to brag before you pushed alessia to victoria and kyra. finally, you got changed.

—

“lee, babe, you need to hold still” you laugh, cupping her face in between your hands and holding her face still. “baby, i am still” she smiles, “you are not!” alessia watches in amusement, leah sends her a half hearted glare before winking at the other girl.

“baby, i don’t want to poke your eye out” you reprimand leah, adjusting yourself as you straddled her lap, leah sighs, nodding and looking up so you could do her mascara. you were all currently getting ready for a team dinner with the england squad.

“okay, bubba, go ahead” she squeezes your hips encouragingly, letting alessia feed you and her snacks every now and then. “well done, captain!” alessia praises teasingly, leah grumbles, attempting to say still for you.

“oh, look how pretty you are” you coo, rubbing your thumb over her neck lovingly, “look how pretty she is, lessi” alessia begins to coo as well, both of you fangirling over how good leah looked tonight.

“oh stop it” she goes red, giving you an appreciative kiss before leaning over to give alessia a kiss as well. “all right, lessi bear, your turn” leah teases, lifting you off her lap and passing you over to alessia.

“oh, i’m a doll then, cool” you laugh, leah kisses your head fondly, alessia hugs you tightly as she peppered your face with kisses, “no, you’re our cute girlfriend” making you all laugh.

"i'm surprised you're sharing this time" you say cheekily, both of them glare at you for that.

—

“pst” you hear a whisper at dinner, you look up to realise that alessia is smiling at you from across the table, “yes, my love” you grin, resting your head on the palm of your hand.

alessia giggles, and it makes you giggle too. she places her hand on the table, clearly covering something, she pushed forward a small piece of paper.

you cock your head to the side as you looked at her, what was she up to? leah leaned over from the side of you, her head resting on your shoulder, intrigued by your giggles. you open the small paper, laughing immediately when you see the contents.

‘hey, beautiful, i saw you from across the room and thought you were gorgeous, call me xxx - alessia’

leah laughs as well, pulling the note a little closer and giving an impressed nod.

alessia gives you an accomplished smile, so proud of what she had done. you hold your hand up in a phone gesture, winking at her and mouthing “call me”, making both of your girlfriends laugh.

“hey, can i call too? you’re cute” leah grins at alessia, alessia thinks for a moment, “hmm, i’ll think about it” alessia winks.

leah scoffs, clearly offended. “nah, i’m not calling” leah mutters, putting her arm around your shoulder, pulling you into her side.

you place a hand on her chest, kissing her cheek fondly, “baby, she didn’t mean that” leah looks down at you with a charming smile, kissing your lips sweetly. “don’t care, i’m not calling” she mumbles against your lips. you laugh, patting her thigh before resting it there.

“lessi baby, you didn’t mean that” you nudge her ankle with your shoe, alessia huffs, “lee, are you forgetting we are in a relationship?” alessia waves her finger gesturing to the three of you. leah gives her a shrug, kissing your temple as she pulled you in closer.

alessia rolls her eyes, grabbing her napkin off the table and writing a similar message on it, sliding it to leah when it was done.

leah unfolds it, smiles, shoves it in her jacket and looks at alessia with a cheeky smile. “i’ll think about it” she winks, making you shake your head with a giggle. children.

“why did i have to sit next to you?” beth grimaces from the other side of leah, dry retching at the clear loved up bubble you were in.

—

you collapsed on the floor of the pitch after training two days later, alessia flops on top of you to make you giggle but you actually found it comfortable. your arms hold her to you tightly as you kiss her cheek.

“do you ever spend two seconds apart? that’s my best friend” ella groans, slapping alessia’s back harshly, making her yelp and giggle. leah comes down and flops beside you, giggling at the two of you loved up. "nah, they're obsessed" leah teases.

“ugh, baby! i miss you!” alessia cries, still on top of you. you laugh brightly, moving the hair from her face, “i’m right under you!” alessia groans, “i still miss you” she pouts as she hovers over you.

leah nods, “i feel you on that, babe” you look over at her surprised, alessia looks at her happily, “you get me!” alessia grins, holding up her hand for a high five that leah was quick to return.

alessia pulls you up once the break is over, promptly pushing you into the awaiting arms of leah, who was happy to see you. “alright, gorgeous?” she grins, you nod, letting the girl give you a tight hug.

“my lips are chapped” leah frowns, you frown as well, “i have some lip balm in my bag-” you start, though, are cut off with leah’s lips pressed against yours gently, “so much better” she whispers, making you giggle.

she spins you around, pushing you towards the midfield for a mini game, “right, we’ve got work to do” leah shouts, “there she is” you and alessia say at the same time, laughing when she sent you that captain’s glare.

"it was fun while it lasted" alessia sighs, kissing your cheek before she got chased by leah to start shooting practice.

god you love these girls. and they love you.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill - pretend it’s you! ily tooneyyy

liked by leahwilliamsonn and 44,232 others

alessia: we were just trying to have fun, then captain williamson came along

view all comments

yourname: we were mid giggle as well :(

↳ alessia: i know! such a good giggle as well

↳ leahwilliamsonn: in the middle of a match but okay

leahwilliamsonn: no regrets, you both got a goal after this, remember that?

↳ yourname: thank you, baby

↳ alessia: thank you, baby

↳ leahwilliamsonn: you're welcome, my girls!!!

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso one shot #woso imagine #leah williamson x reader #alessia russo x reader

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azrielbrainrot · 26 days ago

Text

Hot Blooded

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x F!Reader

Kinktober 2024: Cuddle for Warmth

Description: You and Eris have to keep each other warm when you find yourselves stuck in a cabin during a snow storm.

Warnings: Smut, fingering, vaginal sex, riding, dirty talk

Word Count: ~2,4k

Rating: 18+ MDNI

Notes: This was initially supposed to be a temperature play focused story but it turned into this instead, I hope that's okay!

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Walking into a small cabin in the middle of nowhere after being stuck in the snow for hours only to find all of the windows were broken and there were holes in the ceiling felt like a cruel joke. If you were alone you might have even cried at how frustrated you felt. You were beyond freezing, the wet clothes you wore only making it worse, and exhausted, both mentally and physically.

Just as you were preparing yourself to walk back out and brave the storm, Eris closes the door behind him and makes his way to the middle of the room, studying his surroundings. There really wasn't much to see, just an old couch missing most of its pillows and broken pieces of wood. If you gathered them it might have been enough to start a fire, especially with his powers, but since the windows couldn't keep the wind out there would be no use in even trying.

“Eris,” you call out, waiting for the Autumn Court heir to look up at you, “We can't stay here.”

“Why not?”

He asks so dismissively that it takes you a few moments to recover. In the meantime he keeps pacing around the room, picking up a blanket that looked like it was hanging on by a thread. Maybe the cold was messing with his brain or something.

“I'm not made of fire. I will freeze to death,” you explain slowly as if you were talking to a child.

“I can't keep a fire going in here either,” he continues your line of thought, at least letting you know the cold wasn't affecting his thinking skills, “but we can't keep going until the snow storm slows down.”

A defeated sigh escapes you. While it was true that going back out there was out of the question since it was only a matter of time before your body gave out, staying here wasn't much better, you can already feel your body getting colder from standing still.

“Are you sure you can't winnow out?” You already knew the answer, your own power being denied to you, but you can't help asking just to make sure.

“Yes, I can barely access my powers as is,” he responds, sighing like you were a petulant child, “Whatever ward was set around this place is extremely powerful.”

“I thought you were supposed to be extremely powerful too,” you bite back.

Eris simply rolls his eyes, not even attempting to argue with you. This meant he had to be even more exhausted than you initially thought, or he wouldn't have let you get away with that comment. You watch as he throws the old blanket he found to a corner, the one where the air coming from the broken windows didn't hit as intensely, surprising you even more when he takes off his thick jacket right after.

“What are you doing?”

“This blanket won't be too much help in this situation,” he says as if it explained why he was taking his clothes off in the middle of a snow storm.

“Then why are you stripping? That's going to make it worse.” You move closer to him, raising your hands, debating if you should stop him from unbuttoning his shirt during what had to be some sort of manic episode.

“Our best bet right now is keeping each other warm through our body heat,” he starts, watching your face go through a myriad of emotions with amusement, “Like you said, my body is made of fire so to speak. I'll keep you warm.”

This made sense, you knew that, in fact you were a bit ashamed you didn't immediately think of it, but as he takes off his shirt slowly your thoughts scatter. By the time you manage to get your body to start moving, Eris had already stripped down to his underwear, placed his damp clothes over the couch to hopefully dry, and sat on the corner, covering himself with the blanket.

He looks up at you expectantly, tilting his head slightly when you simply stare back. “I don't want to rush you, sweetheart, but if you don't hurry we will actually freeze to death.”

Swallowing and averting your eyes, you reach for your jacket, taking it off and placing it next to the rest of his clothes. You can't help but hesitate as you hold onto the hem of your shirt, unable to ignore the amber eyes burning into you.

“Close your eyes,” you whisper.

“Seriously?” He asks with a chuckle, complying with your request all the same, eyes already closed when he adds, “Didn't take you to be this shy.”

You usually weren't, definitely wouldn't be when it came to a situation concerning life or death such as this one, but the mostly naked person in front of you was Eris, the infuriatingly beautiful male who could get under your skin like no one else.

The moment his shirt started coming off, you were reminded of a party a few years ago, where both of you had gotten lost in your drinks and shitty lives and forgot that you were supposed to hate each other, making out right outside the bar. No matter how many years passed you still could feel his warm hands holding onto your waist, lifting you up against the wall, and the taste of his lips on yours.

Dropping the rest of your clothes over the couch, you move to him, the shivers running up and down your body not all caused by the icy wind whistling through the windows. Lingering in front of him for only a second before turning around and sitting in his lap, trying not to think about the fact that his bare skin was pressed against yours.

His hands fall on your waist as soon as he feels you in front of him, helping you get settled in silence, but he only opens his eyes after the blanket is draped over your body.

There was no doubt in your mind that you were both reminded of that same night, and maybe of all the others where a simple word or touch could have triggered the same reaction. You were getting warmer already without the cold clothes clinging to you, and while you hadn't meant it literally, it did feel like his body was made of fire as your cold skin lay against his chest. You don't know if he was using his magic to warm himself up further but it was making you melt into him.

“We shouldn't have come without backup,” you whisper, adjusting so you weren't leaning on his shoulder so much, the silence between you making you far too aware of your position. In truth, you barely remembered why you were there in the first place at this point, but you needed to say something.

“There was no one else I could trust,” he says, one of his arms wrapping around your middle, chest rumbling against your back as he spoke, “at least we know for certain something is hiding here or there wouldn't be any need for such a barrier in the middle of the mountain.”

You hum in response, not knowing what else to say, trying to sit up straighter again when you feel him tense up against you and his hold on your body tightening. At first you thought you could have hurt him, but when he doesn't say anything else or move again, you turn your head around in question, only feeling something poking against your backside when you meet his amber eyes.

“You need to stop moving,” he murmurs, half lidded eyes staring back into yours.

Swallowing around a dry throat, you turn back around, staring into the furthest wall and trying your best to distract yourself, counting down the seconds and imagining yourself sitting at a chair instead of on the lap of Eris fucking Vanserra. Trying to remember why you ever hated him in the first place, replaying in your head all the times you annoyed each other, all the petty fights and vile words you spit at each other. Your efforts are all in vain though, a different kind of heat manifesting itself in the pit of your stomach, especially as you're also reminded of all the times he was there for you, of the reason you had come to the middle of nowhere at his request with no questions asked.

A curse escapes him, head falling back to hit the wall behind you as both his and your scents start thickening, to the point even the icy wind circulating around the room couldn't mask it. You can't be sure what was going through his head, but you can almost hear his control snapping before he lays his hand over your stomach, pulling you closer into him, warm palm sending goosebumps across your skin.

“Eris,” you whisper, whether telling him to stop or keep going you weren't sure.

He shushes you, lips finding the side of your neck at the same time his hand moves lower, quickly finding the hem of your panties, warm fingers moving side to side just above it, making you tremble as they awaken your frostbitten skin. “We have to wait until the storm settles anyway. Why don't we make up for some lost time?”

“Lost time?” Eris hums behind you, the vibration rumbling under your skin.

“Haven't been able to stop thinking about that night even after all this time,” he starts, hand moving under your panties, quickly finding your clit and rolling it between his fingers, purring at the little noises escaping you. “If we hadn't been interrupted I would have fucked you right there.” He throws one of your legs over his so he could spread your thighs more, inserting a finger into you slowly as his other hand moves under your bra, teasing your nipple softly. “Fuck, I've been thinking about this ever since I first layed eyes on you.”

Your moans rise in tempo as he fucks you slowly, warming you up from the inside. Part of you was convinced you had actually fainted in the snow and were simply stuck in a weirdly realistic dream, but this wouldn't have been the first time he showed up in your dreams and they never felt quite like this.

His warm hands felt heavenly against your still too cold body, and the little kisses and bites he was leaving around your neck were driving you absolutely insane. You were also not surprised that even in this situation he couldn't keep his smart mouth shut, the sinful words he whispered in your ear only sending you further into madness, hips moving into his hand, grinding back into his hard cock at the same time.

A familiar knot starts coiling itself deep inside you, a whine of his name escaping before you reach for his hand and stop him. Just as he freezes and goes to ask what was wrong, you turn in his arms, kissing him before he has the chance to. You'd been craving his touch for so long that you wanted to do this properly, needed to see him and touch him, needed to taste him again.

He kisses you back immediately, hands falling to your waist as you straddle him, one hand reaching between your bodies to find his hard cock, swallowing the moan he lets out, both uncaring of the blanket falling around you.

The way he was fucking up into your hand, his own gripping your hips tight enough to bruise, almost makes you want to watch him fall apart under you like this, but you needed him too much, the same frenzy you had felt that night all those years ago returning, except you couldn't blame the alcohol this time.

You lift your hips and line his cock with your entrance as he pushes your panties to the side, staring into each other's eyes as you slowly lower yourself on him, moaning out at how deliciously he stretches you out.

Pulling you back down for a kiss, he starts guiding your hips up and down his cock, your hands getting lost in his silky hair, grabbing onto his shoulders for leverage, nails biting into his skin as pleasure overtakes all your senses. You couldn't even feel the cold against your heated skin, it could have started snowing inside the house and you probably wouldn't have stopped.

He was right you needed to make up for lost time, you can't believe you've been missing out in this, on him. Eris pulls away so he can watch you, blown out eyes staring into yours like he could find salvation in your gaze.

“Don't stop, doll.” You moan out at the pet name, at his deep voice begging you to keep going. “Need to feel you cum around my cock.”

As much as you usually hate taking orders from him, this one you were more than happy to follow, speeding despite the way your muscles ached, letting yourself get lost in the pleasure, in the feeling of his warm skin against yours, in the way his teeth sank into your skin as he chased his own high.

It crashes over you, taking your breath away as you both cling on to each other, curses and moans of his name escaping your lips, grinding into him until sensitivity has you trembling. He pulls you in for another kiss, savoring each other's taste and warmth, leaning his forehead against yours as he whispers, “I'm not letting you get away this time.”

You let out a sigh, pecking his lips again, eyes fluttering open, leaning back so you can watch him. One of your hands reaches to cup his cheek, the vulnerability in his eyes almost taking your breath away. Eris Vanserra always wore a mask, a cruel and twisted mask that had been meticulously crafted over the centuries, and as much as you've caught glimpses behind it, you had never seen him so open.

“I'm not going anywhere, Eris,” you promise, letting him kiss you again.

You spend the rest of the night cuddling under that blanket, so wrapped up in whispered confessions and sweet promises that neither of you notices the snow had stopped falling and the first rays of sunrise were already filtering in through the clouds.

#eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra smut #eris smut #eris x reader #eris vansera x you #eris x you #eris vanserra x y/n #eris x y/n #eris vanserra fic #acotar x reader #acotar smut #acotar fanfiction #acotar kinktober

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snixkers · 4 months ago

Text

Hot to Go

Pairing: Emily Prentiss × Fem!Reader

For: Anonymous Request, filling the slot of praise kink for @cmkinkbingo2024

EXPLICIT CONTENT, SMUT

Content Warnings: Strapon (reader receiving), introducing new things in bedroom, soft!Dom Emily, description of sex toys, squirting, inexperienced reader, use of baby as a pet name

Summary: You find Emily's suggestion to spice things up very appealing.

Author's Note: Holy shit when I tell you I have never been sicker. I literally was typing gibberish thinking it made sense. Anyways, dw, this is hot, I promise.

Feedback is always welcome!

Requests are OPEN!

You stared at Emily as she came home, scraping your food around on your plate haphazardly until she was finished unpacking. Her trained eyes immediately read your body language, setting off red flags in her brain.

"Hey, is something wrong?"

You tensed up at the sound of her sultry voice. After she came back from a case, you typically gave her a massage before letting your hands wander. And sometimes, the roles were reversed.

Her smooth, soft hands caressed your muscles, relieving every ache while simultaneously growing the one in your core.

You snapped out of your thoughts at the sound of her voice, setting your plate in the sink. "I, um, I saw your package."

Her face fell slightly, although you could see a burning curiosity beginning to kindle. She knew, of course, exactly what you had found. She had purchased a strap on, nothing unimaginable, about five inches. Emily took a small step towards you before reaching her hands out.

You took them gratefully, a little bit nervous about where this was going but ready to explore.

"Last week, I was thinking. I'm usually on top in the bedroom, and I know we've already used toys, but you've never tried this."

Your face flushed, already aware of your inexperience when it came to your relationships with women. But Emily was always patient, asking questions and putting boundaries in place. She truly was the perfect partner.

So that's why with a shaky breath, you nodded, giving her a kiss. "I'd like to try that."

So that's how you found yourself on the bed five minutes later, your legs spread and knees pressed to your chest. She had been properly prepping you for a while, but you were desperate.

"Em, please, I want you."

She turned away, grabbing the harness and fastening it carefully.

"Just relax, baby. I'll take care of you."

Emily positioned herself at your entrance, rubbing the spongy tip up and down your dripping slit. The teasing was making you even more hot and bothered, which she could easily tell. "Ready for me?" She waiting for your nod of affirmation before slowly pressing inside.

You gasped involuntarily, feeling the head of the cock begin to breach you. She drove it in carefully, like she was trying not to break you. As hesitant as you were before, you wanted to feel the full spectrum of what she had to offer. "The whole thing." You said, not even realizing it was out loud.

She nodded, concentration beading on her brow. "Is this what you want?" She asked as the leather harness hit your thighs.

You shook your head, savoring the feeling of her sheathed deep inside you. "I need you to be rough, like you usually are."

She bit her lip, looking the opposite of the dominating figure she usually was in the bedroom.

"Are you sure? This is something new and I don't-"

Her voice trailed off as you began rocking against her, grinding yourself up and down the rubber. She looked down for a second before deciding to begin a steady pace.

Both of your moans filled the room, echoing off the walls and going back into your cores. She moved inside you with a purpose, hitting that button with every stroke. Your face was contorted in pleasure, and she committed it to memory.

Emily watched you writhe and moan beneath her with a sly smile, unable to help fondling your bouncing tits. "Oh baby, you're taking my cock so well."

You nodded at her words, eager to please as you rutted against her to assist in your pleasure. When she began to circle your clit with a single finger, the sensation made you shudder, your whole body quaking as it surrendered to her touch. She saw this and knew it, urging you closer to that orgasm you knew you were about to hit. "Come on baby, let me see you coat my cock. Just like that."

She didn't speed up, or go harder, just kept doing the same thing she had been to get the best reaction. And you knew you were a goner the second you heard a sloshing noise from between your legs. Almost immediately, a gush of liquid emanated from between your thighs.

She fucked you through your orgasm, making sure to slowly bring you down with words of encouragement before sliding the cock out from between your legs.

"How was it?"

You just nodded, too dazed to truly respond. She laughed at that, cleaning you up and leaving the toy on the corner of the bed, ready for your inevitable request of a second round

#criminal minds #writers on tumblr #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #fanfic #reqs open #emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #emily prentiss smut

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satorusugurugurl · 3 months ago

Note

Toji as a bodyguard

Til’ the Day that I Die

Summary: You’re a popstar in need of a bodyguard when you find yourself with a stalker. That’s how you meet Fushiguro Toji, you’re insanely hot bodyguard. Who knows how to push your buttons, and get you feeling flustered. Just how far is he willing to go to protect you? And how far would you go to protect him?

Pairing: Bodyguard!Fushiguro Toji x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: mentions of stage right, performance, anxiety, stalking, panic attacks, language mentions of gun, (eventual smut)

Word Count: 4.5K

A/N: this request is amazing!! It got my brain worms going! Once again, this will be a multi part series, I’m looking at a total of four parts as I have already planned down the whole story. I’m sorry for the lack of content, it’s been a rough few days and I just decided to take some time for myself! But I do have about four stories almost done so you can expect updates for the rest of the week! Love you all!! (Readers' stage persona is highly inspired by several artists! 😊)

Part Two Part Three Part Four

Performance anxiety is defined as an excessive feeling of fear related to being able to perform well. Symptoms of performance anxiety include pulse racing, rapid breathing, dry mouth, and throat tightness. Dealing with performance anxiety when you're a rising star is brutal, and you begin to regret all your life choices. You aren't sure if you want this to be your life. You were attending nursing school, but your sister posted a video of you singing online. Reading all the sweet comments was fun initially, but it's funny how fast things change.

One second, you were posting a few videos of you singing, and the next thing you knew, you had a record deal, your songs were on the radio, and you were performing at concerts. All in the span of six months. The attention was overwhelming, and, at times, your anxiety even worse. But the more you performed, the more you were able to bury the stage fright down, masking the fear with a persona you made until you were home in your apartment. In the confines of your home, you could cry and tremble; dealing with those attacks was something you’d gotten used to.

But your stalker was a whole new fucked up mess you never dreamed about dealing with.

It had started as nothing more than a couple of love letters that turned into more descriptive letters detailing information about your personal life you had never told anyone. Anytime you saw a letter come in with ‘M’ written on the front and dark gray ink, your stomach twisted. You at first thought you would be okay. You could handle something like this. This was the kind of thing that came along with the territory of being famous.

That was until a bouquet of roses was dropped off at your door in your guarded apartment building. That whole situation sent you into a full-blown panic attack. You left your apartment and went to stay with your friends. That incident caused your manager to contact Kong Security Services and hire you as a bodyguard. One, you were anxiously waiting to meet as you sat in your dressing room before your show.

“It’s going to be fine, I promise.” Nanako, your makeup artist, assured you as she fixed your blush. “Geto said this agency is the best in the business.”

You shot her a skeptical look while her twin sister fixed your hair. “Are you just saying that because your dad’s are my managers, and they told you to say that?” When both twins had ceased their movements in obvious shock at your to-the-point accusation.

“W-What—?”

“No, never!”

“Uh-huh��I don’t believe a word either of you are saying right now.”

Nanako steps back, looks you over, and bites her lip. “They really are the best, whether or not we get to go out for Boba after this. It’s not like sweet milk tea is on the line if we don’t ease your nerves.” Just as your sweet young makeup artist finishes, the door to your dressing, eyes darting towards the door as it swings further open. Suguru and his husband, Satoru, enter, displaying their matching black-and-white wedding rings. They were the best management company in the world, the power couple of Tokyo. Satoru, who was in charge of your social media accounts, types viciously on his phone while Suguru grins up at a man walking in with them.

If you could even call him a man.

A fucking mountain of muscle is a more appropriate way of describing him. He’s tall, has dark hair and navy blue eyes, and he’s fit. The mountain wore a tailored jacket and white button-down shirt with the first two buttons undone. His eyes leave Geto’s for a minute to watch you sinking further in your chair, his pink tongue running over the scar down the corner of the right side of his mouth.

“Hun, this is Fushiguro Toji,” Suguru announced before glancing at his phone. “He’s your bodyguard and will be with you everywhere you go.”

“E-Everywhere?”

“Yes, to rehearsals, your shows, meet-and-greets, he’ll even escort you home.” Your eyes rammed back over to the mountain of a man standing off to the side. When you have time off, or he needs a day away, his work partner Tsukumo Yuki will take over for him.”

You swallowed hard, fingers twitching, a subtle action your new bodyguard noticed immediately as you dug your fingers into your skirt. It was part of Toji‘s job to see behaviors and be observant. He could tell you were on edge from how your fingers twitched to how your pulse raced in your neck. His handler, Shiu, had warned him that you were an anxious mess after finding out about your stalker. But this anxiety didn’t come from just having a stalker. This anxiety was deeply rooted in you. It was probably something you had suffered with for years.

Without being told, Toji stepped forward, kneeling before you, giving you a gentle smile like a father would give a frightened child. He had to put your nerves at ease to let you know you would be okay. “I know you’re scared, but I can assure you that I am very skilled. You won’t even notice I’m around.” You weren’t sure about that. How could you not notice the handsome man who would always be around you?

“Right, thank you.”

“You’re welcome--”

“Ugh! We gotta get going; they expect you on stage in five minutes.”

“I-I s-shou—” you stuttered as the performing anxiety began to root itself into your already anxious demeanor.

“Yep, let’s get going.” Toji stood motioning towards the door of the dressing room. “After you, Miss.”

Being a bodyguard and a security escort for so long had allowed Toji to pick up on specific cues from people, like how their eyes moved around the room or how their body language told him what they were feeling. The way your fingers were twitching, he knew you were nervous and scared, and he wasn’t sure if it was stage fright or something to do with your stalker.

Regardless of whether you wanted to go up there, it didn’t change the fact that thousands of people were already waiting for you to perform. As you both walked down the hall, Tojo noticed you took a deep breath and exhaled through your nose, and as you turned the corner, you put on a huge smile. The way you put in a mask so fast nearly sent Toji stumbling back. He was usually prepared for the unexpected, but seeing this scared, shaking woman shift into a bubbly pop star rocked him back.

Everyone you encountered smiled wide at your perky voice and demeanor. You truly lit up the whole room. “Alright, guys! Thank you for all your hard prep! Now, let’s have a great show tonight!” You were handed a jeweled microphone and placed on a platform to lift you to the main stage, but before you gripped the handles to steady yourself, Toji grabbed your hand. “Oh, Fushiguro?”

“I'll be on the side, watching you. If you need me or notice something's off, you should give me a sign.”

“A sign? Like a signal?”

“Yeah, something easy and inconspicuous.”

You thought for a second, that perky look still on your face, but Toji could see the anxiety behind your eyes. “Well, I wink a lot during my shows and throw a heart sign up.” Toji hummed, pursing his lips together.

“Well, if you don't want to alarm your fans, how about this.” he took your hand, putting your middle and ring finger down. Your thumb, pinky, and pointer finger were left extended.

“Oh, the sign for ‘I love you’!”

“Only use this if you need me on stage. Otherwise, do what you normally do, but know I’ll be right there if you need me.”

There was a flicker of fear in your eyes, which probably would go unnoticed by many different people, but it was one that he could see clearly as day. “Right, thank you, Fushiguro.” Your new bodyguard looked at you as he scoffed, shaking his head.

“Toji, just call me Toji. There is no need for formalities. Have a good show, Miss.”

“R-Right, thank you, Toji.”

Your new bodyguard watched as the platform began to lift, taking you up to the stage where fans were screaming your name. Taking a deep breath before smiling, your bodyguard watched you reach the top before the band blaring music as you began singing into your microphone. The beat of the music rang in his ears; Toji ran for the stairs that led him to the stage, where he could watch you from the side.

There, Toji found your managers standing on the sidelines, watching you. Upon looking at you, he met a woman who looked nothing like the girl he had just spoken to moments before. You danced, sang, smiled, and winked at the crowd. Multicolored lights flashed as fog from the fog machine flooded the stage, and the backup dancers moved in sync with each other. I think this is poor, who was shaking upon meeting him.

“Yeah, crazy to see her shift, isn’t it?” Geto asked before pulling his phone out and snapping a few photos of you as you sang. “She’s like a different person.”

“Like? I hate to be the one to break this to you, Geto, but that woman is a completely different person. Why the fuck is she masking?”

The white-haired man glared at Toji, his sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. “She’s not masking; it's called a stage persona.” The annoyance was clear in the other man’s voice, a tone that crawled its way under his skin.

“Look, buddy, keep your terms to yourself. I don't care about the different terms. All I know is that woman—” he jabbed his thumb in your direction as you twirled around the stage. “is masking; that’s not who she is.”

“You don’t know a lot about the entertainment industry. This is something that a lot of celebrities do. It’s completely normal, and she knows that. That’s how she adapted so fast.”

Toji wasn’t sure if that was the case. He had seen you firsthand, shaking in your dressing room. To see you change drastically for the sake of a show? Toji could see why you would be nervous to go up on stage. There had to be a fear of your mask slipping, revealing your true persona to the world.

But Satoru was right; Toji’s job was to protect and ensure you were safe. It wasn’t his place to judge how you lived or worked your career. In the end, you were just like all the other popstar divas and clients he had had before. Rich people with too much money to throw around and fame led them to believe that they were in danger all the time, which is how he managed to keep a steady income for himself and his kids as long as they were rich snobs like you, Tojo was guaranteed to have a job.

Instead of continuing to argue with your overzealous manager, Toji crossed both arms over his chest and watched you closely. The sooner the show was over, the sooner he could get you back to your apartment, where he could call to check on Megumi. He just wanted to relax, and for all he knew, you and your managers were overreacting to this so-called stalker you had. If anything, this might’ve been some cruel prank; receiving a note to roses wasn’t that big of a deal, and this was way too easy for as much as he was getting paid, so he wasn’t going to bitch about it.

What he did want to bitch about was how fucking long your show went on for. Performed for about two hours straight, only taking breaks to change costumes throughout the performance. It was in those moments when you were changing that your mask slipped. He could see the exhaustion in your eyes and how you wanted to do nothing more than take a break. But as fast as that mask slipped, you had it back on instantly. When one costume was off, and the other slipped on, you were back on stage to sing the next song.

After about two hours and thirty minutes of this bullshit, you gave a final bow and blew kisses out at the crowd of strangers who were cheering your name. While the two hours he got to stand up to the side and watch you perform was easy, he only had to look for your signal if you needed help; getting you out of the arena safely was a whole different story. Everything moved so fast The second you stepped off that stage and towards your bodyguard.

After every show, the goal was the same: get changed as fast as possible, collect your stuff, which Nanako and Mimiko had already packed, and get in your limo before the crowd started heading towards your exit. Toji gently placed his hand on the small of your back, ushering you through the maze of halls that led you back to the dressing room, where, just like you knew, the girls had packed all your stuff.

“You got five minutes to change,” Suguru announced as Satoru snickered behind his husband. “Thanks to Satoru, you’re trending again for your newest song.”

Toji could see the minutey, perky personality shift into your more anxious state. You frowned, literally frowned, at the news. Most people would be jumping over the moon to hear it. Seeing such an ungrateful expression on your face had Toji resist the urge to roll his eyes into his skull.

Spoiled little brats, you rich folks were all the same.

“Did you make sure to tag the—“

“Are you insinuating that I don’t know who to tag or which hashtags to use? Babes, I've got you covered. When have I ever let you down?”

“Never.”

“Right, so let the best PR manager handle this.”

Toji sighed, glancing towards his watch. “Two minutes,” he announced to the room of people bouncing off the walls and collecting items to clean up the green room. How could your managers be talking about more brand deals at a time like this? Brand deals were bullshit, but knowing how popular you were with the teenagers and you probably had some make-up deal or some other shit that would make you all the richer, you had to make sure the right people were tagged so you continued to be sponsored. But there was a time and place for that, and now wasn't the right time!

“I know you're the best Satoru, but I still wanna make sure the word gets out there.” You stepped out of the bathroom, dressed in black leggings and a simple T-shirt. Completely different from the baby doll dresses you were wearing on stage. “It’s imperative—”

“I know. I’ve already posted it. Everyone’s been tagged accordingly, and the hashtags are in place. You’ll get lots of people to see this, trust me.”

You were slipping on your baseball cap and sunglasses when Toji’s large hand gently grabbed you by the shoulder. “We gotta get going,” you sighed before nodding, waving off your team, and falling Toji down the hall to where your car awaited you.

Thanks to your quick change, nobody was waiting for you outside, making your getaway from the arena smooth as butter. You just wished you felt as calm as your exit from the bustling stage had been. You were beginning to regret going back to your apartment. You hadn’t been back there since the roses were delivered to your door. Going back was going to be difficult, leaving your stomach swarming with anxiety. But at least you had a big mountain of a man to protect you if, god forbid, you needed help.

The entire ride back to your apartment complex was thankfully quiet. Toji sat on the other side of you, staring out the window, not making any conversation, which was a blessing. Not only was your throat sore from the amount of singing you had done, but the idea of sitting through a conversation run solely by small talk was almost as bad as your performance anxiety. Sitting in the back of the car, leaning your head against the window without worrying about smiling or acting perfect in front of strangers, was a breath of fresh air.

Being alone with your bodyguard made you feel like you could let your walls come down for the first time in a long time. It was a feeling you might as well get used to. He would be around most of the time, so instead of adorning the perfect, pretty mask you always wore, you could be the introverted true version of yourself. Knowing that you could relax, you shut your eyes, allowing yourself to doze off as the car smoothly headed down the freeway.

If only your dreams were smooth and calm like the car ride. Your dreams were filled with mysterious notes and roses you had once loved. They circled you, drowning you in paper and petals as a roaring crowd rang through your ears. You could fight against the tidal waves, but instead, you let them wash over you, allowing yourself to be crushed by the unbearable weight of being a star at times.

Nursing school wasn’t easy, but at least when you were in school, you didn’t have to worry about a mysterious bouquet showing up on your apartment doorstep or sneaking out to avoid getting seen and swarmed by your fans. Your biggest concern in school was getting good grades and doing everything possible to get your degree. The only things you had to worry about were study dates and pop quizzes, not ominous letters that made you fearful for your safety.

These nightmares were so vivid that you wished your family had heard you singing online. Was it too much to ask for a normal everyday life where you weren't constantly stressed?

You sighed, looking up at the lingering rays of light that slowly began to peek through. More envelopes and roses piled on the cocoon you were stuck in. Perhaps there was no going back. This might very well be the rest of your life. Just as you were shutting your eyes to the casket you were being buried in, a hand reached out from the top of the mountain of dread and anxiety you lived with, reaching for you.

You couldn’t make out who was reaching out to you, but you were sure they just wanted to help you. Without hesitation, you reached for that hand, brushing over their fingertips. Just when they clasped your hand to pull you out of the burial ground, you were jn. You gasped as someone shook you, waking you from the dream.

You sat up quickly, shaking as you met Tojo’s navy blue eyes. He was frowning, motioning towards the rolled-down window, and Ijichi, head of security for your building, leaned in, giving you a weak smile. With a quick rub to both your eyes, you placed your mask back on, going from the sleep-deprived woman you were transforming into the perky popstar everybody knew and loved.

“Ijichi! Hi!”

“Hi yourself, glad to have you back.”

Toji could see how your shoulders stiffened when you mentioned being back. “Oh, yep! It's good to be back.” Toji could see through your facade, while Ijichi was blind to it.

“I just wanted to let you know that we added more cameras to the building, and my security post will be far stricter with deliveries and anything else from this point on. We want you to feel safe here, and I’m sorry we failed to do that in the first place.”

“Oh no, it’s not your fault! Plus, I feel a lot better now that I have Fushiguro!” The man with glasses peered into the car, waving at your bodyguard whose face remained stoic, not returning the gesture. “Okay, uhm Ijichi, Toji; Toji Ijichi.”

No pleasantries were exchanged, not at all. The only thing Toji managed to do was give him a nod before focusing his attention back on the massive building and making a mental note to ask for access to the cameras. That way, he could keep an eye on you and ensure nobody was hanging around who wasn't supposed to be there. Those thoughts Toji was lost in made it a tranquil ride up the elevator to your apartment. He was leaving you feeling even more anxious. Usually, being around someone quiet never bothered you; you felt so relaxed around that person, but Toji’s cold demeanor and attitude toward your friend made you irritable.

“So, uhm, are you going to be that cold and standoffish every time you meet somebody I know?” You asked, finally allowing your heart mind to win over your mind.

“Huh?”

His dark gaze had you swallowing the lump suddenly in your throat. “I wanted to ask if this is going to be normal, you being—.”

“Oh, I am so sorry little star; I wasn't aware I needed to wear a fake ass mask around people too.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me, and unfortunately, unlike you, I like wearing my face. I don’t have to be someone I’m not to get people to like me. Because quite frankly, I don’t give a damn if anybody likes me.”

“I don't eit—”

Toji scoffed, leaning against the elevator wall and shaking his head at your words. “Oh, please. You’re just like every other client I’ve had. All you care about is money, your appearance, and what sponsor deals you get.” His words made your blood begin to boil.

“You’ve barely known me for a couple of hours, and you think you know who I am?”

“Oooh yeah, you're some small-town girl that made it big. And instead of showing the world who you really are, you put on this fucking mask, one that hides the true you from the prying eyes of the world. You care only about ticket sales, making your fans happy, and sponsorships like the one you were talking about with your manager not even thirty minutes ago. So yeah, I’m sure I got a good idea of who you are. It’s my job to read people..”

This was the best security in the business; bodyguard your manager had set you up with? Ha! Yeah, right, this man was nothing more than a dickhead that had a lot of opinions that were far from true?!

You laughed, pushing yourself away from the wall to stand in front of the doors before him. “That's the great thing about wearing a mask around people I don’t fucking know. They get to see the real me, but I get to see people for who they truly are.” Toji opened his mouth to continue arguing with you, but only for you to quickly shut him down, holding a hand up before you. “You were right about a couple things; I do put on a mask, I love my fans, but I could give a damn about sponsorships.” Toji pushed himself off the wall, towering over you, gritting his teeth as he tried to control his evident anger.

“Oh, you suddenly don’t give a damn about sponsorships? I just heard you talking to your manager about one.”

“You don’t know anything about me! That whole conversation had nothing to do with this sponsorship!”

Tojo tilted his head back with a laugh. “Oh, right, of course. You don’t care about your amazing condo or all the money you’re making; you don’t care about those so-called nonexistent sponsorship deals.” The elevator rattled like the lid to the rage threatening to explode.

“Alright, yes, I do live in a nice apartment, one with security that sucks, but it’s still home. But for your information, I don’t do this for the money. You don’t know what I have planned on doing with my life, so I don’t want to hear you make assumptions about me! The conversation you so rudely eavesdropped on had nothing to do with a sponsorship deal but a massive donation I’m making to the local Children’s Hospital. The same hospital is well renowned for helping unfortunate children. So yeah, that whole conversation you listened to was me telling my manager to tag the hospital in my video because the hospital inspired the song! It was a public service announcement, a reminder to help those who can’t help themselves.”

Your rant was unexpected. Toji had never had one of his clients talk to him like that; strangely, he liked it.

“And another thi—”

The doors to the elevator slowly slid open with a ding as you reached your apartment. Usually, your automatic lights would be on in the living room and kitchen, leading upstairs. But as the doors opened, no lights illuminated your bodyguard's face. You knew something was wrong, and just before Toy could look over your shoulder into the apartment,Toji’s hand quickly covered your eyes. He pulled you into his chest, and he listened in as he smashed on the lobby button on the button panel.

“Toji!?” You asked, placing your hands on top of his. “What is it?! Is something wrong? Let me see!”

Toji shook his head as if you could see his reaction, his hand reaching for the gun at the holster on his side as the door slowly shut. There was no way in hell you were going to see what was behind the door. Because he knew if you were to see what had happened in your apartment, you would never be the same. As the elevator slowly began to descend, Toji realized that he had been wrong about your stalker. It wasn’t some harmless joke.

This was fucking serious.

(TBC)

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @luvsymai

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ninthcircleofprythian · 6 months ago

Text

Dinner and Dessert

Azriel x Pregnant! OC (Mira)

Word Count - 3.6k

Summary - as his mate's due date approaches, Az can't handle the sight of her pregnant body in a sundress without going a bit feral.

Warnings - light swearing, pregnancy, descriptions of pregnant body, breeding k!ink (if you squint), tons of sexual tension, explicit sex described (oral f recieving, fingering f recieveing, p in v)

Author's Note - This fic was written for being the clear winner of this poll. Also, a special dedication to my fellow monkey brain @chairofchaos for being with me every step of the way as I wrote this and for being so very strong and not allowing me to spoil it as it came together. Enjoy pookie. 😘

“We really should have planned this out better you know,” Mira’s voice echoed through the entryway as she descended the stairs. The shadows made a swirling lap around her body as she landed on the last step, Azriel gliding from the living room doorway to meet her.

“Planned what out better, my love?”

“Being this pregnant in the middle of summer,” she sighed. “Nothing fits anymore and I’m constantly hot. I swear I’m carrying a tiny furnace in here at this point.” Mira’s hands slid over the large swell of her belly, tucking the drape of her dress under it as she cradled the weight from below.

Azriel’s eyes tracked the movement, flaring with heat when her hands found their resting place. The roundness of her belly on full display in the flowing fabric.

“That dress,” his voice rumbled, eyes lingering along her frame as his wings gave a slight tremble.

“Like I said, nothing fits anymore,” his mate twisted her lips in a pout. “The options are limited.” Releasing the hold on her stomach, Mira brought her hands up to the neckline, tugging it back to a more conservative height.

In a flash, Az’s hand stilled hers as he stepped closer, chest pressing against her exposed shoulder as he stood at her side. With his other hand, he replaced the hold she had along the bottom of that beautiful mound. The thin summer weight fabric allowed her to feel every ridge along his palm as it slid into place and she shivered in his hold from the sensation.

“I’m not complaining,” Az whispered as he bent to nuzzle along that dangerously low neckline. “But if you aren’t comfortable, you could always take it off.” With a tilt of his head, he peeked up from her cleavage that was threatening to spill out with a darkened stare.

“Azriel, stop,” she giggled with a push against his shoulder. “We’re going to be late.”

“It’s fine,” came his mumbled reply from between her generous breasts. “Let’s be late.” One of his hands now slipped to the small of her back, the curvature deepened with the weight she now carried. A low groan sounded from his chest.

Az had always loved his mate’s body. Every soft spot and curve and blemish. But something about the last months, watching everything about it change and grow with his child growing inside her, made him insatiable. The dress she was now wearing with the hem dancing along her feet and the waistline settling on the top of that bump, was the final straw. He was done for.

Just as he began to bend at the knee to scoop her into his arms, she shoved against him once more. “Azriel, seriously. Stop,” she laughed. “This is probably the last family dinner I’ll be able to go to for a while. I want to go. I don’t want to be late.”

“Ok,” he sulked momentarily. “You’re right. To dinner we shall go then.” He gestured widely with his arm towards the door in a mocking tease. “But you know we could spare some time if you would just let me winnow us there.”

“Ugh,” she groaned. “I would prefer not to lose my appetite before dinner, thank you.” Ever since the pregnancy had neared its end, she couldn’t stomach winnowing any longer. The short step through the dark felt like more of a lurch and left her heaving afterwards and Az was entirely too nervous to fly with her in this state. “Besides, it's nice out - even if it is hot.”

“Fine. But we aren’t staying for dessert.” With a devilish grin, Azriel stooped to kiss his mate’s pouty lips. The hand along her back swept lower and with a start he pulled back, staring into her eyes with a look of shock.

“What?” she questioned with a furrowed brow.

“Mira, my love, are you –,” his hand explored a handful of her backside. “Are you not wearing any underwear?”

“Oh. Yeah,” she started as she made her way towards the door with a smug smile. “Those don’t fit anymore either.”

She let out another giggle as Azriel grumbled behind her, scrubbing one large hand down his face. “You’re fucking killing me.”

Thankfully, the walk to the River House was short enough that Mira wasn’t completely worn out. The entire way over she couldn’t help smiling as she noticed Azriel casually falling behind a few steps so he could get a long hard look at her backside as she walked. She may or may not have put a little more swagger in her already unsteady gait just for fun.

As she approached the front door, Azriel sidled up to her again. His hand slipped over her butt before settling low on her back, his fingers gently rubbing. Before she could even reach for the door handle, his other hand was once again cradling the underside of her protruding belly.

“What is with you today?,” she chuckled, nudging him with her shoulder.

“I can’t help it,” he smiled against her neck as he licked at the sheen of sweat that had gathered there. “You. This dress. Your beautiful belly with my baby inside. When I hold you like this, it feels like I’m holding my entire world in my hands.” He gave her a gentle tug as he settled his body closer, his hard length pressing through his clothing into her hip. Soft lips traveled up the side of her neck before nibbling at her earlobe. “It just does something to me,” he whispered.

“Az, honey,” Mira sang sweetly. “I’m starving.”

“Ok,” he said as he moved to stand behind her, his insistent hardness now pressing into her plump backside.

“We should go in.”

“Ok,” he mumbled against the back of her neck, hands now skimming over the flare of her hips.

“I need to open the door to do that.”

“Ok,” he whispered along one shoulder as both hands now cradled her belly.

With a gentle lift he took the weight and shifted upward. The strain in her back instantly felt relief and the ache in her hips eased. The noise that left her was entirely involuntary as her hands gripped over his arms.

“Oooh, that feels so good,” she practically moaned and she felt his length twitch against her.

With a nip at her exposed shoulder, Az released his own sinful noise. “That is a very dangerous thing to say right about now.”

She didn’t even get the chance to respond as suddenly the door flung open.

“I thought I heard someone out here,” Rhys said with a smirk, his violet eyes twinkling. “Dinner is ready if you are staying.”

“Yes, please,” Mira laughed as Rhys turned to head back inside and she moved to follow him. Azriel held back for just a moment as he adjusted himself outside on the doorstep.

Family dinner moved at a leisurely pace, much as it always did. Mira was in her element enjoying the conversation and food, laughing animatedly with their table mates. The night moved much too leisurely for Azriel however. He had begun the night with gentle touches, unable to keep his hands off his glowing mate. A hand along her thigh under the table, arm slung over the chair back caressing her shoulder with his fingertips, soft lips brushing the shell of her ear as he whispered to her.

Now, the touches were much more insistent and his leg bounced anxiously the entire time. A firm squeeze to her knee as Mira shifted in her seat, a sharp nibble to her shoulder as he tucked a pillow behind her back, a rough graze of his knuckles along her hip reminding him that she wasn’t wearing any underwear. Like he needed the reminder. It was all he could think about.

As the conversation died down and the plates were cleared away, Mira stood stretching out her aching back. Instantly, Azriel was at her side, one arm slipping around her waist as he began ushering her towards the door.

“Az, slow down,” she huffed out a laugh as he fought to keep his strides from outpacing hers.

“I made chocolate torte,” Elain’s musical voice announced from the dining room behind them.

“Ooooh,” Mira sighed as she twisted out of Az’s hold before he could flare out a wing to stop her. “Chocolate!”

She didn’t even make it a single step in the opposite direction before one scarred hand encircled her wrist. With a tender tug, she was spun back around into her mate’s arms and pressed tight to his chest. A protest bubbled in her throat but before she could voice it, Azriel drowned it out with a hard sweeping kiss.

Relaxing against him, she felt the hand gripping the back of her head tighten as his tongue dove in, finding its way to hers. Tangling and twisting, the kiss deepened. With a reluctant groan, Az pulled his face back and gazed into his mate’s eyes gauging her reaction.

Mira noted it had gone eerily quiet as he had kissed her. Suddenly she understood why. They were no longer standing in the River House foyer, but instead in their own shared bedroom.

“I thought if I distracted you first it wouldn’t make you sick,” Azriel smirked a sly grin.

“It worked,” she said breathlessly, flashing hot all over for reasons other than the weather.

His lopsided smile grew as he watched the color flood her face. Bending, he scooped his mate up in his arms and with one large step moved to the bed, depositing her squarely in the middle.

Before she could get her elbows underneath herself to sit up some, he was tearing at his clothing. Belt ripped from his waistband followed quickly by his pants.

“Don’t move,’ he warned in a sultry tone as he watched her trying to pull herself up. The buttons of his shirt met their demise as they popped off with a tug.

Mira giggled as she heard them pop and hit the floor somewhere in the room. “I’m not even undressed.”

“Keep it on,” Azriel growled.

Pulling her elbows from beneath herself, she fell back on the bed, watching as he began to crawl toward her. His large hand quickly found the hem of her dress that was now pushed up around her knees. Worming its way underneath, his skin met hers and before she knew it he was pushing against the inside of one leg.

She didn’t resist, knees parting as she made room for his body to settle between them. With a quick flutter of fabric, he disappeared, head buried underneath her dress and burrowing between her thighs.

A small sound of surprise squeaked out of her at his quickness, but it was covered immediately with a sharp gasp. In just a couple passes of his tongue, Azriel was at her clit and circling that sensitive bud. The grip on her hips increased as he moaned into her folds, the vibration caused her breath to shudder.

“I thought about this all through dinner,” he rumbled before lapping insistently at her arousal. “You. Completely bare. Ready and waiting for me under this dress.” He accentuated his words with hard passes of his tongue between them.

Mira’s breaths were hardly more than quick pants now as his tongue continued those circles with ferocity. Dipping down to gather more of her arousal along his tongue, she let out a whining moan.

Tongue returning to its task, one hand released her leg and snaked its way to her entrance, fingertips teasing.

“Az,” she whimpered.

Slowly, he began pressing a finger into her core.

“Az, wait,” she panted. “Hold on a second.”

He felt her shifting her hips within his grasp as he flipped her dress off of his head.

“What’s wrong?” His voice carried a hint of panic as he noticed one of her arms cradling her belly.

“I need to move,” she shifted her hips once more in an effort to slide onto her side. “I can’t breathe well on my back like this.”

His panic subdued, he quickly raised himself up into a kneel and helped her to roll more comfortably on her side. Leaning to grab a pillow, he had her lift a bit so he could tuck in beneath her belly for support.

“Better?” he asked with a tender trailing sweep of his hand over her stretched skin.

“Much,” she sighed contented. “You can continue.”

Azriel belted out a ringing laugh. “Gladly, my love.”

Pulling her bottom leg straight out along the bed, he laid himself across the end of the mattress. Mira lifted her top leg as Az laid his head on the pillow of her thigh. Grabbing her lifted leg under the knee, he propped it against his body so that her foot was planted against his ribs before tucking his arm over it.

“Now where was I?” he pondered aloud. “Here?” He lapped one long strip through her folds.

“Or, maybe it was –,” another pass of his tongue had him barely grazing her clit. “Here?”

“Azriel, don’t tease,” she pleaded as she dug her heel into his ribcage.

“Yes, it was here,” he smiled wickedly to himself. With the same quickness as before, Az dove back in like a starved male. Driving his tongue against that throbbing bud, he brought his fingers back to her entrance.

Now able to draw in a full breath, Mira was gasping and moaning with intensity with each flick against her. He couldn’t keep up with the arousal that dripped from her, coating his fingers as he inserted two of them fully.

“Ah! Yes-Az” She cried out loudly, gripping the sheets in front of her face.

Setting a solid steady pace with his hand, he drew her clit between his lips and pulled, creating suction against it as he flicked against it.

Her cries became a scream as the leg propped against him trembled. Pulling his other arm from beneath him, he reached up, gliding his palm along her taut stomach and pressed gently where he knew she felt that familiar tightening sensation.

Her back arched and pressed her belly deeper into his palm. Azriel felt the beginning ripples of her climax roll over his fingers from inside her. With a pull, he curled them.

That’s when all the breath left her. The pressure against that sweet spot inside left her hanging on a gasping cry. Every muscle in her back and legs tensed in unison as that white hot pleasure crashed through her.The intense clench of her walls pulsed over his fingers. The sweeping ripple through her belly against his palm made him pant out in surprise. As she came down from that peak, Az gave one light pass of his tongue over her clit, feeling her jolt against him before pulling his face back and slowly withdrawing his fingers.

Easing her leg from over his body, he brought himself up and curled his body around her from behind. Sweeping her hair away from her neck, Az nestled his lips against her heated skin, the tips of his fingers trailing lightly over her side. Mira was still slowing her labored breath as she pressed a palm to the side of her clothed belly.

“Does it hurt?” Az asked with a slightly worried tone.

“No,” she sighed contentedly. “It was just - intense.” She let out a satisfied hum as his palm replaced hers, finding that tight muscle with ease.

Wiggling deeper into the mattress, she felt his still adamant hardness pressed against her. “What are you thinking about back there?” She laughed, arching her butt against him.

“You already know the answer to that,” he said gruffly into her neck. After a beat of pause he brought his lips to the shell of her ear. “What are you thinking about?”

He felt her tremble as his breath coasted over that sensitive spot and he couldn’t resist giving it a teasing lick as well.

“Mmm,” she groaned, pushing back against him harder. “I’m thinking about – chocolate.” Her merry laugh rang through the space as Az huffed his own amusement against her temple. “Among other things,” she said in a low tone. Reaching her arm back, she grazed her nails along his hip, the brush of her skin causing him to buck against her involuntarily.

“Help me,” she said as her hand left his hip and grabbed the fabric bunched around her hips. “It’s too hot for this.”

Pushing into a kneel once more, Az helped her maneuver the dress from her body, revealing more and more of her full frame as he did. Tossing the dress to the floor, he paused for a moment, kneeling behind her bent knees in awe.

Fully exposed and still laying on her side, every voluptuous asset was on full display. His hands explored the access this position afforded him. Every curve that drove him wild easily reached. Her heavy breasts that filled his palms, her ample ass that jiggled when he grabbed it, her firm belly that held their child within. His child.

With a teasing bite to her luscious thigh, Az once again pulled her lower leg straight before straddling his legs over it. Grabbing her other ankle, he wrapped her leg around his waist, holding it firmly above his hip bone.

Shifting closer, he notched his length against her exposed entrance. His hand smoothly followed the curve of her butt before dipping into the arc of her lower back. That deepened well, strained with the weight of the child she carried left him powerless.

As he pushed his hips against her arousal slicked core and entered her fully, Mira moaned. And Azriel whimpered.

He had known all along that this moment would be his undoing. He had ensured that she received her pleasure first and foremost before he buried himself in her warmth knowing that he was unlikely to hold out. As his hips found their rhythm, he folded himself over, nuzzling at her breast with a moan.

The tight pull of his climax was building in intensity with each thrust. He held back his need to drive himself harder, relishing in the pleasure of his soft rhythm. Mira’s arm snaked under his chest attempting to reach between her parted thighs. With her belly in the way, she couldn’t find purchase against the aching need that pulsed there. Lifting up slightly, Az threw her arm over his shoulder and replaced her reach with his own, thumb dancing deliciously against her clit.

She began writhing underneath him, her quiet pants and sultry moans building in intensity until he felt her fluttering around him. He no longer held back, pushing himself desperately into her with a snap of his hips. Her arm grasped against his back, scratching at the space between his wings.

“Az. Az. Az,” she moaned breathlessly with each thrust he gave. He couldn’t bring himself to produce any sound in return, every bit of his energy concentrated on the feeling of her walls constricting his twitching length. Another thrust and she was coming apart beneath him, clenching hard around him. One more and his own release was barreling through him.

Her name left his lips in a cry. Every pulse of release stole his breath further until he collapsed on top of her gasping for air.

Moments passed as they collected their breath before Az shifted into a roll carefully avoiding landing his weight on his mate’s belly and settled in front of her. Her middle pressed against his own, his hand swept tenderly back and forth over it. Her eyes slipped closed and her breath evened out into the quiet pattern of almost sleep.

“Tired?” he asked, brushing the hair from her face.

“Mhm,” she replied in a sigh, rubbing her cheek into his palm.

Azriel remained as he was, hand cradling her face as he stared at his mate in wonder. His mate. His partner through life. The mother of his child.

“I’ll be right back,” he said as he removed his hand and replaced it with a kiss. Mira just gave another throaty noise in response, not bothering to open her eyes.

Some minutes later, Mira was awoken from slumber as Azriel cursed to himself. Popping her eyes open she watched as he stumbled through the bedroom door, arms laden with a tray in one hand and a steaming mug in another. Kicking the door shut behind him with his heel she noticed he was once again fully dressed.

“Where did you go?” she asked sleepily as she pulled herself up to sitting, dragging the blanket Az had left over her up around her chest.

“I felt bad that I made you skip dessert,” he smiled at her as he lowered the tray over her lap. Upon the tray sat half of Elain’s chocolate torte, still in its original pan, two forks laid across the empty half.

“Oh, Azriel,” she brightened with delight, grabbing his face as he bent to place the mug on the tray as well. “I love you. I love you. I love you,” she giggled as she peppered his face with kisses.

Turning back to the tray, she snatched the torte pan and settled it squarely on top of her round belly, digging in expeditiously.

“Mmm,” she moaned, closing her eyes as she savored the rich taste.

“It almost sounds like the chocolate is better than the sex,” Az teased as he climbed into bed next to her.

“Oh,” she laughed. “It’s definitely up there,” she held her thumb and forefinger apart barely touching as she squinted at him. “A very close second I’d say.”

Az released a booming laugh before he too grabbed a fork and settled in for dessert.

#azriel fanfic #azriel acotar #feral az #azriel x oc #azriel x oc smut #azriel x original character #azriel smut #azriel shadowsinger #pregnant! oc #acotar #acomaf #acofas #acowar #acosf #acotar smut

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66stitches · 22 days ago

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Marigold (II)

𑁍 best friend!abby x reader

𑁍 Summary: Abby loved you in a way she believed you could never reciprocate. Per her friend's advice, she began to avoid you in hopes of healing her aching heart.

𑁍 CW: sfw, angst, a little bit of fluff, unrequited love, happy ending yippe, jealousy, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, reader neither described as masc nor fem, no physical description of reader besides that she is able-bodied, fighting, swearing, violence, ellie mention, a lot of crying, pet names.

𑁍 WC: 4.4k

𑁍 Daily click - Palestine masterpost - TLOU and israel

𑁍 divider creds

𑁍 Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

You buried your cold hands deep within the pockets of your maroon-colored jacket in an attempt to ward off the biting cold, each breath you took formed a slight cloud in the crisp air.

"Don't you think it's a little cold for ice cream?" You spoke, looking over at your friend walking alongside you.

"Maybe you'd enjoy it more if you actually got a good flavour."

You and Ellie wandered through the familiar town, your thoughts running as you dragged your feet across the pavement beneath you.

You tried to focus your thoughts on anything besides Abby: the cold breeze of winter stinging your nose, your coffee-flavored ice cream that, according to Ellie, tasted like burnt shit, the fallen leaves and the sound they would make when you'd step on them.

But she always managed to find her way back into your thoughts, contaminating your brain with the presence of her memories. The memories that once brought you joy were now nothing but painful.

Your steps came to a halt as you stopped by the town's bar. Wooden panels adorned with colorful string lights and a paper that read "winter dance" stapled on the entrance.

"Oh, I almost forgot about the dance tonight," Ellie spoke as she finished the last bite of her ice cream. She tossed it in a nearby bin. "You're going, right?"

The town hosted dances and gatherings quite often. It was never really your thing, but it was Abby's, being the social butterfly she is. She always dragged you along, and you were happy to follow.

But Abby was no longer with you, and now you had no reason to go.

"No, I don't think so," you replied. "Are you?"

"Yes, I am, and so are you." She said it as if you had no choice in the matter, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"Come on, don't just say no because of Abby. This is the perfect opportunity to get your mind off her," she sighed dramatically. "It's also the perfect opportunity for me to show off my dance moves."

You sighed, and though you were not yet convinced, you allowed yourself to consider it. "I don't know, Ellie.”

"Please? If not for yourself, then go for me. You're not really gonna let me go to this thing alone, are you?" she pleaded.

"Stop that. You know guilt trip always works on me."

She grinned. "I know."

"Alright," you said as you threw your hands up in defeat. "I'll go."

Ellie was right, you needed this. It was unfair for you to miserably lay heartbroken when God knows Abby was probably already out having fun, relieved to be rid of you at last. It wasn't fair for Ellie either who came a long way to see you.

𑁍

Nora slipped on her last layer of clothes and started combing back her dark hair.

"You're awfully quiet," she spoke, looking over at the blonde resided beside her, currently styling her hair into her signature braid.

Abby offered no response for a moment, simply going back to her task.

"Uh, you okay?" Nora asked.

"I'm fine, Nora," Abby replied, speaking without a glance at her friend's way. It was clear that she was lying, Nora could see that. Abby had been evidently troubled for weeks, her distressful demeanor was something no soul could miss.

Nora sighed as she placed her hairbrush down. "No, you're not. Tell me what's going on with you," she asked, though she knew she didn't need to. She knew it was you who's causing her this sorrow. In truth, that had always been the case, even long before you two had stopped talking.

"I don't know, I'm just a little worried about her, I guess," she said. Merely talking of you was most difficult for her. She had been trying to avoid the topic of you for quite some time now, always shutting her friends down when they tried to ask what happened between you and her.

"You don't have to worry about her, Abs. She's got that redhead friend of hers to keep her company." Nora tried her best to be comforting.

Abby almost had to physically stop herself from rolling her eyes at the mention of Ellie. Of course she had noticed the two of you spending time together quite often, and as happy as she was that you had someone to keep you company, she couldn't help the seeping feeling of jealousy that contaminated her to the core at the first sight of you two.

“Please, don’t talk about Ellie,” she practically groaned, not doing much to conceal her obvious jealousy which earned her a slight grin from Nora.

“Jealous, much?” Nora asked.

That’s when Abby really rolled her eyes. “Nobody said that, Nora,” she said, albeit she knew she didn’t exactly give much room to conclude otherwise.

Abby didn’t want to admit truly how jealous she was of the red-headed girl and how badly your falling out had affected her.

She no longer wept, though she always felt as if she was on the verge of doing so. She tried to distract herself with the gym, but what once brought her happiness and contentment now felt like a chore. She didn’t need a distraction, she needed you.

She envied Ellie: she envied the way she got to hold you without that awful feeling of sheer guilt in the pit of her stomach; without that nagging voice in her head telling her what a disgusting person she is.

She envied the healthy relationship Ellie had with you, how comfortable she was in sharing affection without feeling as though she was fulfilling some perverse fantasy.

She was constantly plagued by the urge to go back to you, always having to remind herself of what a horrible idea that would be, as well as Nora’s persistent lectures which stopped her from doing something so foolish.

She was happy that you had someone to keep you company and comfort you, but she still couldn’t help the way she felt about Ellie. Her jealousy eating away at her every time she saw you together, doing things you once did with her, and she felt endlessly guilty for being jealous.

“Do you think she’s going? You know, to the party?” Nora inquired.

Abby considered it. She was unsure whether she wanted you there or not.

The sight of you would dim her mood, that she knew for certain, but she missed being in the same room as you.

“Probably not. T’was never really her scene.” She sounded different whenever she would speak about you. Her tone would change significantly. She sounded softer. Sadder.

Nora considered her next words for a moment before speaking. “Do you want her there?” She asked.

Abby zoned out for a moment, contemplating.

“I don’t know.”

𑁍

You stood beneath the cold wind staring at the town’s bar. You could hear everyone inside. Dancing, talking, yelling, singing along to the music. You took a deep breath and walked in, your eyes immediately scanning for Ellie.

You found the redhead standing by the bar with two drinks in hand. She met your eyes from across the room and gave you a smile as you walked up to her.

“So you came.” She handed you a drink.

“Yeah,” you responded as you fiddled with the bottle. “You were right, I’ve got to stop moping. This is good for me.”

Ellie tilted her head and smiled. “See? Told you. I’m always right.”

Moments passed, and you mostly followed Ellie around like a lost puppy while she socialized and met some new people.

That’s something you always envied about her: how she can make friends so easily and how confidently she carried herself most times.

You two then sat at the bar, allowing yourself to rest a little as you indulged yourself in conversation.

A conversation you were no longer paying attention to, Ellie’s voice slowly beginning to sound faded as your eyes were locked on someone else across the room.

And that certain someone was watching you right back. Deep blue eyes locked onto yours, keeping you connected from the other side of the room. Her brows were furrowed. She looked pained, tired, and yet still as beautiful as ever.

You didn’t think you would ever be in the same room as Abby again, but there she was, in all her glory.

She wore a tight green shirt that hugged her strong figure in all the right ways, along with some faded brown pants that accentuated her thighs.

“Stop looking at her.”

Abby was first to break eye contact, snapping you out of the trance that were her eyes. You averted your gaze from Abby and back to Ellie.

“Again, I am so sorry. I seriously didn’t know she’d be here,” Ellie apologized for what seemed like the millionth time.

“It’s fine, Ellie”, you reassured her, but you both knew it wasn’t fine at all. You sought a fun night to distract you from the ache in your heart that was Abby, only to have her come and bring that ache with her.

You were unsure whether you were surprised to see her here or not. You knew that she enjoyed these parties, but you assumed she wouldn’t be attending this time after what had happened. Perhaps you should have known better.

“There she goes staring at you again,” Ellie groaned and rolled her eyes. “Come on, let’s just get out of here.”

“Way ahead of you.” You were already throwing the remainder of your drink and getting ready to leave. Ellie followed shortly after, but not without bidding her new friends goodbye.

You stood in the sidelines waiting for her as she moved all around the room.

You then found yourself praying to whatever god there is up there to allow the ground to open up and swallow you (or Ellie) whole, because with all of her careless wandering, she mistakenly bumped into Abby, nearly spilling the last of her drink on her. Nearly. That part you were grateful for.

“Oh shit, man, my bad,” Ellie chuckled. She did not sound the least bit apologetic. In fact, she only sounded proud of herself. You wondered if it had even been accidental at all.

Abby recognized Ellie immediately, of course she did. She was not only looking at you the whole time, but as well as glaring holes into the back of Ellie’s skull.

“Oh please, don’t pretend like that wasn’t deliberate,” Abby said harshly. Ellie grinned mockingly, glad that she managed to get such a reaction from the blonde.

“Aw, what’s making you so hostile, Abby? Makes it seem like you’ve got a personal grudge against me.” Ellie just kept pushing Abby’s buttons, speaking in the most condescending tone she could muster. If there was one thing Ellie was good at, it was riling people up.

You practically sprinted to them, grabbing Ellie’s hand and gesturing for her to leave.

You met Abby’s eyes once again, but this time was different, because now you stood close enough to really look at her again; close enough to get another hint of her intoxicating smell.

Once again, she broke eye contact.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I think someone’s a little jealous,” Ellie pushed again, trying to get another reaction from Abby. She wrapped an arm around your shoulder. “You’re jealous that she’s got me now.” Ellie grinned again, enjoying the sight of Abby’s scowling face.

“Ellie!” You yelled. You were getting upset as well as embarrassed. Whatever Abby was mad at you for, she was definitely never forgiving you now. You pushed Ellie’s arm away and tried to grab her and leave once again. You were ignored.

“Jealous?” Abby scoffed, she was the one grinning now. “You’re just a replacement. You realize that, right? If it weren’t for me leaving her, she wouldn’t even spare your desperate ass a glance.”

You were left aghast at Abby’s words, Ellie clearly was too. She tried to hide it, but it was clear Abby’s words had hurt her.

You opened your mouth to defend Ellie. You loved Abby, that would never change, but you would not stand for anyone talking to Ellie like that and speaking lies about you. But Ellie interrupted you before you had the chance.

“Yeah? ‘Least I never fuckin’ ghosted her or made her feel like shit the way you did; at least she’s happy with me. So yeah, got your girl now, bitch,” Ellie retorted, looking evidently proud of herself for that last sentence. Clearly she still found this fun.

Abby’s clearly had enough of childish banter. One thing about her is that she was never afraid to get violent.

She took a step forward and shoved Ellie, nearly knocking her off her balance. You were ready to interfere, until Ellie shoved Abby right back with the same amount of zeal.

Everyone’s attention was on them now, not including those who were black out drunk. The entirety of the bar went quiet, staring at the two women in excitement. As if you thought this couldn’t get any more humiliating.

“You both are fucking childish,” you yelled and tried to get in between them.

Quite the dumb move on your end. The punch Abby threw was meant for Ellie, but with your careless action of stepping in, you were the one taking the hit, your head snapping back.

What you didn’t expect, though, was for Abby to hastily grab your face, softly cradling it between her hands.

“Fuck, marigold, are you okay? I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you,” she spoke quickly. The tone in her voice was scared and replete with concern. It was evident on her face.

She seemed surprised by her own actions as well. She didn’t think nor intend to hold you like that. When it came to her, protecting you almost felt like a natural instinct.

The feeling of her hands on your skin and her face so close to yours nearly made you forget the aching pain on your cheek.

You snapped out of it swiftly and pushed her hands away from you, sending her back.

“You don’t get to call me that anymore,” was all you said. It was bitter, laced with venom. Abby looked hurt, but mostly ashamed of herself. She didn’t speak.

“Now can we just leave already?” You groaned and turned to Ellie.

“Yeah…” she breathed, still glaring holes at Abby.

You grabbed Ellie’s arm and finally left. It took everything in you not to look back at Abby. You wished you didn’t care about her so much.

You were now back at your house, examining the swollen area on your cheek which you knew would soon be a shade of purple.

You spent most of your time in your head, replaying that incident continuously.

What you truly could not manage to get out of your head was how Abby had reacted when she’d accidentally hit you. That name she called you: you were certain you would never hear her utter that word again.

You were both confused and comforted by the gesture, but you tried not to dwell on it.

“God, she’s even worse than you described. What a bitch.” Ellie had been ranting and moaning about Abby for what felt like all night.

You tried to tune her out, not wanting to think about Abby so much. Is this what Ellie felt with you?

“You should’ve let me fight her. I mean, she’s big as shit, but I could definitely take her on.” She took a moment to observe herself in the mirror. “Definitely,” she repeated.

“Ow!” You flinched as you poked your swollen skin. That got Ellie to stop her ranting and come to your aid.

“You okay?” Ellie held your jaw and observed your cheek.

“I’m fine, it’s just…” you trailed off. “You started that fight on purpose, didn’t you?”

Ellie raised her brows at your question and smiled slightly. “Nah. Trust me, if it was deliberate, I would’ve spilled my drink on her. This was just a happy accident, as Bob Ross once said.”

“Yeah, well your happy accident got me a punch to the face, but I’m glad you found it fun.” You rolled your eyes and stepped away from the mirror.

“Actually, you jumping in between us is why you got punched. Seriously, what were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t thinking. I just wanted you guys to stop.”

Ellie frowned and crossed her arms, an expression of remorse scrawled upon her features. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine. She’s just… she’s so fucking confusing, Ellie,” you said and buried your face in your hands.

“I know,” Ellie empathized. She wasn’t the best at comforting, always getting awkward in serious situations. But what she offered was her ear, and that was all you needed.

“I mean, what the hell was that? Did you see how she grabbed me? What she called me? Why does she think she can just do that after everything?” You were trying to remain calm, which wasn’t easy with Ellie staring at you so sympathetically. “Why does she still act like I mean something to her?”

“Maybe it’s ‘cause you do,” Ellie suggested, placing her hand on your back and offering you some much needed physical comfort.

It really did not make any sense, Abby’s actions only managing to confuse you more. Could she really have cared about you? Was there still something there, or did she merely feel guilty for hurting you?

Now what you had planned to uplift your mood and ease your sorrow had been ruined by Abby’s presence. It seemed as though she haunted you everywhere, bringing nothing but ache and destruction alongside.

𑁍

Abby felt weak.

She had tried to avoid you, as she usually did, but the memories of what had occurred the other night played endlessly in her mind, fueling her with guilt.

She’d tried to make herself stop caring, convincing herself that you meant nothing to her and that what had happened the night prior did not affect her, but to no avail.

She cared about you, and that would never change. She could avoid looking at your face as much as she wanted, but your image was forever seared into her mind.

Today was a particularly gruesome one. You did not bother to hide the bruise that formed, and Abby didn’t fail to notice.

She had tried to walk up to you and apologize, each time cowardice and shame taking a hold of her and turning her back around.

The idea of speaking to you again after everything intimidated her, which was quite unusual for someone like Abby. She never anticipated a time would come where she would be apprehensive about facing you.

Unfortunately for her, you did not lack discernment. You noticed her reluctance in making her way to you; noticed the way she was internally battling herself.

You stood outside, bidding Ellie goodbye as she left to go back home.

When Ellie was finally gone, Abby walked up to you again, and you hoped for what seemed like the hundredth time that this time she would not turn back around. You didn’t know whether you planned to forgive her or not, but you still wanted her to speak to you.

When she noticed you looking at her as she made her way to you, she stopped at a halt and turned back around.

Her actions and timidity were beginning to frustrate you, but right as you were about to speak up, she turned around once again and walked towards you, this time faster, as if she wanted to get it over with before her apprehension got a hold of her once more.

“Hey,” she spoke, her voice laced with discomfort.

The gleam in her eyes changed as she got another look at your bruised cheek, feeling infinitely more guilty.

You didn’t reply and simply waited for her to get to her point. You wanted it to seem like it was because you were mad at her (and you were), but in truth you were at a loss for words.

Because she was here. She was speaking to you; she was looking at you. It took everything in you not to break down into tears at that seemingly insignificant act.

“So…” she trailed off, eyes scanning everywhere timidly. “I just wanted to say that I am so, so sorry. For hitting you, I mean. I swear, I meant to hit Ellie but you got in the way— not that I’m saying it’s your fault, because it wasn’t—” she was rambling now, her nerves getting the best of her. If you were any less hurt, you would laugh and call her cute.

“What the hell do you want, Abby?” You interrupted aggressively, which earned you a look of both shame and bewilderment.

“To… apologize?” She said it more like a question. She was slightly rendered uneasy by your anger, but she did not blame you in the slightest nor was she surprised. It only made the guilt grow into something more unbearable.

“Apologize, huh? Don’t you think you have other things to apologize for? You think this—“ you pointed at your bruised cheek, “is what hurt me?”

Abby took another look at your cheek. She didn’t reply. She looked down and crossed her arms, hugging her sides. Your eyes followed her hands and noticed the way she dug her nails into the skin of her hips, her knuckles slightly turning white.

You remembered all the times where you would scold her for that bad habit of hers, asking her why she’s so nervous and having her brush you off and ask you not to fret.

“Just let me-“

“No, Abigail. I don’t wanna fuckin’ hear you right now,” you interrupted. “You said you never wanted to see me again, so why don’t you just stick to your word?” Your heart broke into a few more pieces at the mention of that night, remembering all the things she had said and that distant tone in her voice. Her heart broke as well, remembering how cruel she was and the painful look on your face.

“Why do you have to be so damn confusing? Why are you contradicting yourself by saying you never want to see me again, only to keep looking at me with those fucking eyes, starting childish fights, calling me marigold, and now you wanna try to talk to me and expect forgiveness?” You were yelling at this point, letting everything spill out with no control or filter.

And Abby was quiet, understanding. She was listening. Her knuckles were turning whiter with every word you spoke, her eyes slightly glistening.

“You left me without a word. You never tried to talk to me about what happened, maybe we could have fixed it!”

“You wouldn’t-”

“No!” You interrupted again, not wanting to hear her voice and only spilling what has been bottled up inside you. “Don’t speak and let me finish! You didn’t talk to me, Abby. Do you have any comprehension of how terrible I felt? Did you enjoy knowing that I spent nights wondering how the hell I was supposed to fix what you destroyed?”

“I-”

“I’m not done! What made you think that you could just walk up to me and-”

“Stop!” She was the one to interrupt you this time. “I love you,” she said before she could think. It was said quietly, softly, and this time she was looking you in the eye.

That definitely shut you up. You stood there, gawking. You were trying to form words, but none came to mind. Your head was empty, but your heart was heavy, filled with emotions you couldn’t quite place.

Abby was clearly getting anxious by your lack of response, so she spoke again.

“I don’t know if you’ll accept my reasoning for what I did, but that’s it, and I’m sorry. I did it because I loved you. Because I love you.” Her voice was shaking slightly. She was afraid. It was painfully obvious.

“Why- why didn’t you tell me?” You stuttered, dumbfounded. Of all the possibilities you considered that might have been the cause of what happened, this was something that would have never crossed your mind. Not in a million years.

“Isn’t it obvious?” She laughed, though her voice held no humor in it, laden only with pain. “I didn’t wanna lose you. I was afraid I’d ruin what we have,” she said, digging her nails even deeper into her skin. “But now I already did.”

The last part was quiet, spoken slightly above a whisper. She no longer met your eyes, detaching herself from you almost completely. She was sure this was the last time you would ever speak to her again. This is where you would let her go.

It undoubtedly hurt and scared her to reveal herself to you; to finally speak the words that were sure to cause you to let her go, but she didn’t want to be selfish anymore.

She would face her feelings and allow you to leave because of it. The words you had just screamed at her did not fall on deaf ears and she would no longer leave you ignorant to the truth and pained from the untold.

You offered no response. Endless words and confessions played in your head, but none left your mouth. You felt frozen, but you also wanted to know what else she had to say.

Abby’s apprehension only grew at your silence. “Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I knew you wouldn’t take this so kindly but I just needed to get it off my chest and I am so, so sorry. I understand if you don’t wanna talk-”

Her profuse rambling was interrupted by your lips on hers. Your mouth didn’t move, only feeling the soft plush of her lips against your own.

The kiss ended as quickly as it came. Her eyes were wide and she was left gawking. “So that’s how I get you to shut up,” you joked.

“Fuck, come here,” she breathed. She grabbed your face and swiftly pulled it to hers, meeting your lips in another, more passionate kiss.

You pulled her in further by the collar of her shirt. You were so close that you could feel your hearts beating against each other. You could not imagine anything more intimate.

Her lips were slightly chapped, yet still soft and plush, and she tasted beautifully. It was as if the heavens had descended from the skies and given you a taste of its richest, most forbidden fruit.

You forced yourself to separate your lips so you could catch your breath. You pulled away and met her face, her eyes heavy and mouth slightly agape. She looked beautiful like this, all blissed out. The sun kissing her face reflected the gleam in her eyes like light beams in the sky. You smiled at the scene.

“I love you too, you idiot.”

“I love you, my marigold.”

𑁍

a/n: this took so fucking long I don’t even know if people are interested in reading it anymore but here it is

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@grey-jedi12

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loliwrites · 7 days ago

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The One You Need | six

🎶 I spent most my life thinkin’ love was out of reach, so maybe just this once, you could be the one I need, if you let me be the one you need🎶

pairing: neighbor!joel miller x f!reader rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni summary: when you move into town hellbent on keeping everyone at an arm’s length, your neighbor Joel finds his way into your life. warnings/tags: au, neighbor joel, age gap [reader is late 20s/early 30s, Joel is late 40s], hyper-independent reader, angst, first real date, discussion of dysfunctional parental relationships, turbulent sibling relationship, joel makes reader cry [not in a mean way], cuddling, terms of endearment [sweetheart, babygirl], female reader, no physical description, protective!joel, soft!joel, dare i say ei!joel, no use of y/n. word count: 6.2k series masterlist | part five a/n: it’s about time, huh? (the last part was released about 10 months ago 💀 but i’m back hunni buns. and back to remembering why i love sweet, emotionally intelligent joel

Make it hurt.

The words were seared into Joel’s brain. He even saw them etched into his eyelids when he closed his eyes. If only you’d known that the man standing in the bathroom doorway, watching you get ready, had a mind reeling with worry. Instead you, leaning over the sink, carefully applying eyeliner, snuck a glance at him through the mirror and only recognized how absolutely gorgeous he was.

He’d gotten back into his jeans and green flannel, much to your dismay for the want of his bare chest, broad shoulders, and soft stomach. His arms were folded over that now covered chest, shoulder leaning against the jamb, one foot crossed over the other. Despite you having been getting ready for the better part of an hour now, it hardly looked like his patience was waning. All too willing to have nothing more than your presence for as long as you’d have him. Even when you traded in your eyeliner for the tube of mascara and pulled the firm-bristled brush over your lashes, you heard him take a deep breath but it didn’t sound like an argument to the time you were taking to doll up. After all, it was the first time Joel would see you in any amount of makeup designated for him. You chose to forget the night he’d swooped up on your porch, handgun in his waistband, and shooed your pushy date away. Though that night you hadn’t gotten made up for him.

Face painted and ready to get changed, you waltzed past him in the threshold, keen to the fact that he spun slowly to keep you in his eyeline. Even took a couple steps in the direction of your bedroom before you paused and pressed a hand to his chest, insisting he go on and wait in the living room for you. You hadn’t needed help getting dressed since you were a kid. And it wasn’t like you were getting completely dressed up. Joel was in a flannel and jeans. It was all you needed to know he wasn’t taking you to some Michelin rated restaurant. You ventured to guess he’d take you somewhere a tad nicer than a diner, where food that would stick to your bones was served. So you emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later and pulled the door shut behind you until it clicked back on itself. His boots created soft thuds on the hardwood floor where he paced, waiting, anticipating.

All that stopped when you came into view.

You stood, arms held out to the side to show off the long, simple dress you’d thrown on. Something probably better suited for a day of peak summer day-drinking instead of a dinner date night nearing autumn. But you looked up into Joel’s eyes, seeing if you could figure out what he was thinking before he said it, and it wasn’t hard to do so. It was all written on his face. The way those dark brown eyes darted away from your face and down to the dress and the way the fabric flowed around your legs; a slit in the cotton skirt of it showing just the smallest hint and promise of the skin beneath. His jaw hung slack, forgetting to maintain whatever class or politeness he may’ve felt was deserved. And then all he did was shake his head, eyebrows raised, bouncing a curl loose over his forehead.

“Good?”

“You look…” he shook his head again, advancing upon you with outstretched arms that eventually found purchase at your waist. Fingers dug firmly into it, squeezing. “You look great… beautiful,”

Though you could tell that’s what he thought, hearing him say the word made your heart jump into your throat. He kept ogling, staring, and now up close. Heat rose in your cheeks and you clutched your hands over his biceps gently, urging him back. “Should we get going?”

He nodded and took your cue. A few quick steps toward your front door and he was pulling it open with a protective and secure hand on your lower back as you passed by. It all started to feel very… adolescent. Like he’d picked you up from home, all nerves and anxiety. Like you hadn’t already seen each other naked a handful of times. Like he hadn’t already been informed of the way you seemed to get a little more turned on when he choked you. The way he opened the front door, and then stood by your side, hand still on your back when you descended the porch steps. How you crossed the street together like that, smiling and talking to each other. You weren’t sure if he noticed but you sure did. Noticed that Mrs. Cole was knitting on her front porch when you passed by, and how she stood from that rocking chair and made for the house as quickly as her old bones could take her, calling for her husband. Or the way Kelly… poor Kelly… paused her progress on helping her kid out of his booster seat in the car and stared, having to witness the man she wasn’t a match for, parade down the street with the new neighbor who seemed to be.

That one made you bow your head, trying to avoid not only her gaze, but Joel’s as well. Had your initial resistance to men and relationships been a game? One that the very core of his primal being couldn’t help but want to chase? Had you trapped him here in a false promise that if he caught you and won, there’d be a prize at the end? There was a very obvious and adult way of figuring that out. You could ask him. Talk it out and see what was there. But that would require you to make it real. To say that you were noticing something between you two, and if he noticed that too, which he surely would after you’d brought it up. So you swallowed it and smiled graciously to him as he pulled open the passenger side door of his truck and helped you up into it.

Once you were settled, he closed the door and circled the truck to his side, wasting no time in getting in the driver’s seat and starting the engine. The truck was in gear in no time, and right as he started off down the street, through the neighborhood, past all the nosy, small-town neighbors, he reached over and placed his hand on your thigh. Wrapping his fingers around it and giving a soft squeeze. You could feel his eyes shifting to you. Back and forth from the road to you; inspecting. And fearing that a conversation you wanted to delay would arise, you kept your gaze out the window. Downtown Austin was coming into view but Joel wasn’t exactly taking the route to get you to it.

“Slide on over here,”

Finally, you looked at him. He was already looking back at the road, but his hand on your thigh tightened and pulled, urging you closer to him. Closer meant he wouldn’t have as good of a view of your face, so you obliged. Moved yourself across the bench and settled in next to him, where his arm released your thigh and migrated up around your shoulders. His hand hung limp just over you.

“Nervous?” He asked and shook you gently. And being met with a questioning expression, he pressed a smile. “You’re kinda quiet,”

“Just thinking,”

“Uh oh,”

You nudged into his side, earning a more authentic smile and even a little chuckle. Foregoing focus on driving for a split second, he pressed his lips against your temple. “Wanna talk ‘bout it?”

A quick shake of the head was all you were hoping to have to do to dismiss the topic. Tell him? About how it was scaring the hell out of you that despite your best efforts and consciousness, you were somehow becoming dependent on him. Absolutely not.

Joel took a deep breath. He’d caught the shake of your head from the corner of his eye, and with your lack of clarification, his brain – which had already been on a witch hunt of its own – picked back up where it had left off. Only now you weren’t in front of the mirror with things that could be turned into eye weapons. You were just here. Next to him. Curled beneath his arm. And he couldn’t get this convoluted duality to quiet down. The one where part of it was riddled with this gentle caring and acceptance of what this was, and the other part that resulted in him finding his handprint on more than one spot on your body.

“I’ve been thinkin’ too, and I…”

He leaned forward in his seat, glancing out the side view mirror before he veered into the left lane. The silence gave you time to look up at him and study his face. The graying scruff at his jaw nearly meeting the curls that had grown long enough to wrap at his neck.

“M’not sayin’ I didn’t enjoy it. I think it’s obvious I did,” he cleared his throat, attempting to get the image of you bent over the kitchen counter out of his head. His hand circled the steering wheel, fingers outstretched to make the right hand turn, before circling it back, getting it straight again. “Guess I’m tryna figure it out…” he paused and shook his head, deciding to ask a different way, “did your parents comin’ over have anything to do with… it,”

Your eyebrows furrowed, confusion sweeping through you. And figuring his brain was cannibalizing itself more than yours was, you set your hand in his lap and squeezed his thigh, giving him the permission to continue.

“You askin’ me to make it hurt,” his eyes flicked down at you. All you could do was cower a bit more into his side, but he lost the nerve to keep his eyes on you, and shook his head softly again. “I know you said I did what you asked, but I think I might’ve gone a bit overboard and actually hurt you, and…” he cleared his throat again. “If you asked because your parents showed up, and fuckin’ an older guy sorts out daddy issues, I… guess what I’m tryin’ to say is that’s alright if that’s what this is, but I need to know. ‘Cause then you’re saying stuff like you’re mine. And I know that was during sex, and I wouldn’t want to be held accountable for everything I say during sex, but…” He looked back down at you, the realization that he’d gone ranting catching up with him.

Fortunately, or rather unfortunately, the drive was over. Truck now sat in a crowded parking lot. The world could look in and get a glimpse of something you’d rather have been doing in private. But Joel removed his arm from around your shoulders so he could turn the keys and pull them out of the ignition. “I can’t be the guy that marks up a woman like that,”

“Joel,”

“Not when she says stuff like she’s mine and… yeah I don’t care if it was just a during-sex thing.” He took a breath and cleared his throat, “so I don’t think I’m gonna be able to do that with you again. The really rough stuff. Maybe if you were a one night stand. But you’re not. You’re… you,”

“What’s that mean?”

He glanced at you sideways and pushed his door open, “means we’re on a date. Stay there,” he slid out of his truck and slammed the door shut behind him.

And even if you had been so inclined to move, Joel cut you off by hustling around the front of the truck so he could make it to the passenger-side door first. He tugged on the handle and held the door open for you; his free hand coming down for you to steady yourself on the jump out of the cab. You, however, growing uncomfortable with his honesty, stepped out of the truck by yourself, choosing to forego his help. That was the absolute very least you could do.

If there was any thought or hope that at some point through dinner you’d both snap out of it and return to the chemistry you so obviously had in private, that was squashed by the time the waiter set your plates down in front of you. Conversation had waned – nay, come to a complete stop – and your drinks were the only things keeping your mouths busy.

“Thank you,” you smiled up at the waiter. A quick flick of your eyes to Joel had you seeing that he’d gone straight for his fork and knife, even refusing to say a word to the waiter. Who, also feeling the awkwardness in the air, left your table as fast as humanly possible.

“You gotta tell me what’s going on,” Joel all but demanded.

“What do–”

Beautiful, divine providence. That’s all that could be said for the way your phone started vibrating in your purse at that very moment. And under any normal circumstance, you would’ve ignored it completely. But it was a sign from God. A get out of jail free card. Only you did just that – scoured through your purse with your hand in the shape of a ‘search claw’ and rifled around until you felt it buzzing against your fingers. Another quick glance at Joel to find his expression now purely unimpressed, before you looked down at your phone screen. And seeing the name across it, you wished you hadn’t seen it at all.

Joel noted how you re-hid your phone in your purse by clearing his throat. When it grabbed your attention again, he raised his eyebrows, “talk to me. And don’t say it’s nothin’.” He pushed a forkful of food into his mouth, and just when you opened your mouth to say something, he beat you to the punch, “be honest.”

“I’m not just fucking an old man to get over daddy issues, I’m fucking an old man because I like him,” you glared, a little meaner than you thought you’d be.

“Don’t pull punches,” he smiled.

“My mom is weak. My dad’s a steam roller. And I’ve spent my entire life being pitted against my sister in a battle of which one is prettier and which one is smarter. One of us was supposed to find a man to take care of her, and the other was supposed to get a career and take care of herself. Guess which one I am.” You lifted your wine glass to your lips, thankful this place had a somewhat palatable house red. “I asked you to make it hurt because I wanted to feel something. Something that overshadowed the things that their presence evokes in me. And if I’m being completely honest, I asked you to make it hurt because I like you. Because if you hurt me, I mean, really hurt me… even if it’s just in this way, then I can chalk you up as being like every other guy. No good,”

“You–”

“But I fucked up,” you interrupted him and set your wine glass back down. Cocked your head to the side and shook it absently. “Because you didn’t just hurt me like I asked you to. You fucking took care of me after. You ruined my plan,”

“Sorry,” he smirked.

You shook your head again. This time with more intent, “and Kelly saw us walking to your truck. She knows. And it looked like it broke her heart all over again. So I think we should stop doing this and you should give her another chance,”

“What about what I think?”

“Be able to give you the type of relationship you want. I think she’d make you really happy,”

“You make me happy,” he sat back in his chair and pressed a wide smile when that made your eyes return to his fully. “At least you do for now. Think you’re gonna be a pain in my ass in fifteen to twenty years, but maybe I’ll be dead by then,”

“Joel–”

“You know what I think?” He paused for effect but wasn’t actually looking for an answer from you. “I think it’s fucked your parents pitted you against your sister, knowingly or not. I think it’s fucked up that you were made to believe you’re only smart. I think you’re fuckin’ gorgeous. I think you should stop bein’ so afraid of wanting something. Or someone. And I think you should let me try and get you to fall in love with me.”

“Fall in love with you?” You exhaled in a way that sounded like a laugh of disbelief. “Good luck,”

He lifted his beer bottle, “don’t think it’ll be too hard. ‘Cause here’s the thing,” he scooted forward in his chair, a smirk growing across his lips as he leaned over the table toward you, “you ain’t never had a man take care of you before, and now you’re gettin’ a taste of it. You don’t know what it’s like to let a man in and let him love you. You won’t let yourself. Hell, you didn’t even know sex was supposed to come with aftercare.”

“Did too,” it dawned on you that you sounded more like a petulant child than a full-fledged adult.

“Yeah, you tryna sneak outta my house after the first time because I was gone a couple minutes… Sweetheart, you don’t even know what love looks like.” He took a sip of his beer, “how could you know something if it was never taught to you?”

You bit the inside of your cheek to try and keep the tears you felt burning in your eyes at bay. “What’re you trying to do? Make me feel stupid?”

Joel pursed his lips. His eyebrows furrowed and you couldn’t help but notice but the best description for the expression he now gave was remorseful. “To you, bein’ stupid must feel like the worst thing you could be, huh?” His eyes searched yours for affirmation to his question and found more than enough of it. “It’s not. And you’re not,” Joel reached forward and took your hand when you tried to grab at your wine glass again. He intertwined his fingers with yours and squeezed them tight, holding on despite you fighting him to pull away. “You’re not stupid,”

“Joel,”

“You hear me? You’re not stupid,”

“Stop it, Joel,” you pleaded, the first tear falling from your eye, trailing a wet line down your cheek.

“You’re not, babygirl,”

Finally you’d manage to pull your hand out of his grasp and raised both to your face, covering your eyes. You wouldn’t let him see you cry; to show your weakness. Your chest bounced and the breath caught in your throat as you tried to stifle your sobs. For the only thing worse than Joel seeing you cry, was the entire restaurant seeing you cry. And you’d either been at it for longer than you thought, or he managed to pay for the bill rather quickly, but either way, the next thing you knew was you were being hauled up to your feet. Joel kept a hand on your elbow and the other on your upper back. His thumb and index finger cradling the base of your neck to guide you safely out of the restaurant despite your head being bowed.

“Almost back at the car, sweetheart,” he murmured in your ear.

You figured as much. You’d taken far too many steps to not be back at his truck by this point. Just a few more steps. A few more staggered breaths as calmness still evaded you. Then you were pulled to a halt and Joel reached forward for the door handle. He’d only manage to tug the passenger door open before you were turning into him, standing up on your tiptoes to wrap your arms over his shoulders. Your face buried into the crook of his neck.

“I gotcha, babygirl. I got you,” he kept his arms embraced around you tightly. Squeezed you to his body and kissed your temple in the same moment you pressed your lips to his neck for a kiss.

He rocked you side to side, almost like what you’d do to a baby to soothe them. And whether it was the motion, or the smell of him, or the feel of his lips on the side of your head while he whispered all the gentle things you’d always wished a man in your life would say…

You’re alright, sweetheart.

I’m proud of you.

You’re safe.

You’re not stupid.

And all these things that sounded a little bit like I love you.

Your breathing evened out. Lungs filled with fresh air that also smelled like his cologne. Once you lowered yourself from your toes and returned to your normal height, you looked up at him and sniffled. If he could like you looking like this, he could like you anytime. And Joel, always unwavering, pinned a genuine smile to his face when you showed him your face again. He lifted his hands and cupped your cheeks; thumbs wiping away the wet trails your tears had left behind.

“Sorry,” you shook your head, giving him an exaggerated pout.

He shook his head in return, “no, no. You been carryin’ this weight a long time.” He wiped his thumbs over your cheeks again, this time with a nod. “Don’t I look like a big, strong man that can carry some of it?”

You looked up into his eyes, really hoping that what you’d find was yes, he did look like someone to carry some of the weight. You also hoped that if that was indeed what you found, that it wouldn’t scare you away immediately. “Take me home, Joel.”

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

Home.

Such an odd word to use with him.

Home.

What was that? Your house? His house? Either one as long as he was there? Maybe in this state you were just inclined to read too much into your own words. Let fear build in the recesses of your brain and wonder if they’d be the thing that would eventually scare him off. You figured it was just your own mind playing tricks on you. Making you believe the worst before it ever happened, as if to ensure that it would. A self-fulfilling prophecy.

Joel certainly wasn’t making you feel that way. Not on the entire drive back home. One of his hands on the steering wheel, the other stroking over the back of your head, playing with your hair. Him checking in with you every time a red light stopped your forward progress. Y’alright? And the gentle smile he’d return when you assured him yes. Not when he walked you back up to your front door and waited for you to unlock it. His hand remained on your lower back, his thumb dragging lazy circles over the fabric of your dress. Not when you asked if he’d come in and his answer was an immediate and resolute, of course.

And surely not now when you returned to your bedroom and found him lounging back in your bed in his underwear, ogling you when you walked in in nothing but the green flannel he was wearing earlier. The buttons undone. The fabric undulating against your body. Desire and lust flared up in his eyes as you crawled up on the bed.

“C’mere,” he cocked his head back, inviting you forward to his lap.

Legs straddled his waist with ease as if it had been a move you’d been perfecting with him for years. His hands folded to your thighs. Strong fingers wrapped around supple flesh. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t want you to stay over tonight.” You glanced to the side where Joel was already staring at you. “I’m exhausted,”

He chuckled and closed his eyes, turning his head straight again, “wasn’t planning on staying. Your bed fucked up my back.”

“My bed’s not the–”

Joel squeezed your thighs once, twice, quickly, “shh, c’mere, I wanna tell you a secret.”

You furrowed your eyebrows and pressed your hands to his chest. “What?”

“Come closer,” he whispered, very nearly forcing you to lean in just to be able to hear him.

So you did. Crowded his personal space and leaned in, very ready to turn your head to the side to get your ear closer to his mouth for this so-called secret. But Joel lifted his hand and took hold of your chin before you could turn it away from him. He held you there, and as your eyes widened in confusion, you noticed how his gaze danced over your face – from your eyes, to your nose, mouth, down to your chin where his grip grew gentler, and all the way back up to your eyes. And you opened your mouth to once again ask what the secret was, but your lips parted and before any noise could slip out, Joel met you the rest of the way. Leaned forward and pressed his lips to yours, softly and then all at once. He inhaled deeply and upon releasing your chin, cupped his hand over the side of your face; fingers cradling the back of your head while his thumb stroked over your cheek.

You parted slightly, catching your breath, “that’s a good secret.”

“Got somethin’ else to tell you,” he hummed, not wasting any time in getting you back into a kiss.

You smiled softly against his lips, allowing your tongue to meet his as it searched for entrance into your mouth. Finding it, a gravelly moan escaped his lungs, hung in the air between you for just a moment, until you swallowed it down. Beneath you, you could feel his length growing harder. Joel, too, let you know that he was aware of it. He let out another hum of recognition and reached around you with his free hand, ducking it beneath your ass, and tugged on the fabric of his underwear.

With another breath, you pulled away from him and set your forehead against his. Eyes pinned downward, focused on your hands on his chest. Fingers dancing over the dusting of hair down the center. “D’you want me to blow you?”

His response was instantaneous. First by shaking his head. Then by the way he leaned in and pecked your lips, and the hand on your cheek drifted down to your shoulder and held you. “No… I–” he rested his head back on the wall behind your bed, “are you okay? I didn’t mean to make you cry earlier.”

For the second time that night, you opened your mouth to say something. To tell him it was alright. You know he didn’t mean to do that. And for the second time that night, your phone interrupted you. There on the nightstand, the whole thing buzzed. The wood tabletop seemed to accentuate the noise and both you and Joel turned to look at it. You know he saw the name flash across the top. And knew he clocked the way you leaned over to quickly turn the screen black again, sending the call to voicemail. It wasn’t the first time you’d done that tonight either.

“Y’wanna get that?” he prodded gently. But you were quick to shake your head and return to your spot on top of him, taking him into another kiss. He took your shoulder again and eased you back. “Might be important if they keep callin’,”

“It’s just my sister,”

Joel’s eyebrows raised. Eyes widened. The very sister that so much of your inner baggage was tied up with. He didn’t want to press. Didn’t want to urge you to divulge too much and end up in tears again. He knew he was treading choppy water.

“I’ll call her back tomorrow,” you mumbled, sounding less than enthused. Running your fingers through his graying scruff, you tried to ignore the fact that you really would have to call her back tomorrow. “Sure you don’t want me to blow you?”

He shook his head again. More insistent this time. “Just want to cuddle up with you before you kick me out for the night,”

You smiled, almost to yourself as you leaned forward, turning your head to the side and resting your cheek on his chest. Legs straddled his lap, arms wrapped around his torso, You couldn’t have been closer to him if you tried. A yawn torn you, absolutely exhausted from the entire day. The fact that your parents had been there that morning seemed like a lifetime ago.

Nuzzling into Joel, you let out a sigh, “your time tonight’s running short.”

He let out a chuckle, and the next thing you felt was his lips pressing down to the top of your head. A subtle nod of acknowledgment.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

You woke up due to a shuffling around your bedroom. Squinting into the sunlight that poured in through the window, you spotted Joel pulling his jeans up his legs. He fastened the button and looked in your direction.

“Mornin’,” he looked around, searching for his flannel that you’d thrown off sometime during the night. “I’ve got an early job,”

You nodded and pointed him in the direction of the foot of the bed where you knew he’d find his shirt. “So much for not staying the night,”

He followed your tip and retrieved the garment from off the floor, quickly sliding it on and doing up the buttons, “yeah, my back’s paying for it.” Rounding back to your side of the bed, he bent forward and kissed your forehead, “you wanna come over tonight?”

Foregoing everything but a nod, you let your tired eyes drift back shut. The next thing you felt were his lips on yours, giving a chaste kiss. It almost made you think you could do this every morning for the rest of your life.

Sometime between Joel using the bathroom and leaving the house, you fell back asleep. Taken back to recuperate from the previous day. Looking forward to doing nothing but lounging around and knowing you’d actually have to put in some work today. Two hours later when you woke again, the rest of the neighborhood had too. The sounds of the suburbs seeping in through your old single-paned windows. Note to self, get Joel to replace those with double-paned.

Rising from bed and starting your morning routine, you noted all the other things around the house you’d have to ask Joel to do. Fix that annoying drip of your shower head. Replace the kitchen faucet to something not so antique looking. Blow out your dryer vent so you didn’t accidentally burn the house down. As you added each thing to the mental to-do list, it became increasingly more frightening how much you needed him to do. How much you needed him. And if that just didn’t make your coffee taste like tar.

It really started to weigh on you. How dependent you were on him being around. How you were spending practically every night with him. Thankfully, the buzzing of your phone pulled your attention away from cynical thoughts. Even if it was your sister calling again. Surely talking to her would be less painful than the rabbit hole in your brain.

“Hi–what?” You furrowed your eyebrows trying to make sense of your sister’s frantic words. It almost made you feel guilty for sending her to voicemail the previous night. “What’re you talking about?” Another pause but her voice didn’t get any less agitated. “Slow down, I can’t understand you,”

Once she took a breath you were able to catch up on her rant. And what you’d gathered was unfortunately something you’d seen had been a long time coming. New parents with a single income in southern California, your sister was cluing into the fact that her husband – the father of her baby – wasn’t exactly the dad she hoped he’d be. You wondered why she was surprised by his absent-mindedness. He hadn’t gone to any of her appointments. He hadn’t waited on her when she was nauseous or doubled over in pain. In fact, he didn’t do much of anything for her in the nine months of what you’d heard had been a pretty hard pregnancy. So her surprise at his absence now that the baby was here was baffling. But here she was, complaining to you about how he leaves for work early in the morning, and comes back in the evening. And though she too had spent the entire day working – as a mother – he didn’t help her with the baby when he got back home. He sat around, waiting for her to cook dinner, and change the baby, and feed and bathe the baby. He bitched at her if the house wasn’t tidied up. Shit, he hardly even acknowledged the baby.

And though you wanted to ask her why she was surprised – this is who he’d always shown himself to be – you knew that wasn’t helpful. This was your sister’s new reality. Surely she was growing aware of what a mistake it had been to be to hitch her wagon to him. And you pointing that out wouldn’t change anything. It would still be a mistake.

“What can I do?” It was the only remotely helpful thing you could think to say. And it was genuine. You imagined venturing into motherhood was hard enough. Doing so as if you were a single parent when you expected to have the support of a partner must’ve added to the difficulty. So when she told you the thing that would be helpful, you agreed immediately.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

If Joel’s back wasn’t hurting enough before work, it surely was after. He limped up the stairs to his front door. One hand clutching the railing and the other clutching his lower back. The perfect night was looking like it’d include a heating pad and a lot of whiskey. He hoped you wouldn’t mind.

In fact, he’d just poured himself his first glass of whiskey when he heard the knock on the front door. Figured you saw him come home. He was going to be sure to make fun of you for watching him out your front window again. All ready to give you a good ribbing, he tugged open his front door with a big smile on his face. But upon seeing you, that vanished entirely. A large rolling suitcase was beside you. A carry-on sized duffel pack in your hands.

“Goin’ on a trip?”

“I’m goin’ to my sister’s house,”

His breath caught in his throat. He remembered all the calls you’d avoided the previous night. Wondered how catastrophically wrong it had gone for you to be leaving. “Why?”

“I don’t know when I’m gonna be back,”

“Can you come in so we can talk?” He stepped to the side to allow you space to come in. He wasn’t prepared for you to deny him.

“I have to catch my plane,”

“Is this because of yesterday?” He cocked his head to the side figuring you weren’t bound to tell him the absolute truth. Yet, he surmised he knew the real reason. “You’re spooked,”

“What?”

He nodded. Hit the nail on the head. “Something clicked in for you about us and now you’re spooked. Running away,”

“Am not,”

“Okay. Then tell me,”

“Joel, I have to go,”

“I’m not trying to trap you,” he murmured and stepped out toward you. “I don’t know what exactly got you spooked, but I’m guessing it probably has to do with me being around so much. Maybe I’m doin’ too much for you. Gotta get you to mow your damn lawn,”

“Joel–”

“I’m just trying to take care of you,”

“I don’t need you to take care of me.”

“I know,” he nodded and cupped his hand to the back of your head. “But I want to. And I can. If you’ll let me,”

“I gotta go Joel,” you pressed back against his hand, but he did he best to keep you in place.

“Give me a kiss,”

You knew it was probably the wrong thing to do given that you truly didn’t know when you’d come back. If you would come back, or if you’d spend some time back in California and end up selling your home here. You knew it’d be easier to cut him off here. But his lips looked so soft and you yearned to feel them at least one more time. So you did as he asked and leaned in for a kiss. Let him cradle your head with all the fondness in the world and give you the most tender kiss you imagined existed.

Joel didn’t want to let you go. He knew if he did, each day that passed increased the likelihood he’d never see you again. But you eventually won out. Pulled away enough that your lips parted and you took a step back. You stared up at him, not fearing his gaze, almost as if hoping to sear his image into your memory. Then with a sheepish nod, you turned with your suitcase and walked off his porch and to the awaiting car he hadn’t even noticed had pulled up to whisk you away from him.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller au #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #the one you need

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 2 years ago

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From love and life

a/n I feel like we might need some good old fluffy fluff with a tiny bit of angst. So enjoy! Any sort of interaction is so so so appreciated!🤍🫧

summary: you're heavily pregnant but your medical assistant is needed in a close by town. Emotions run high and a little someone decides to make an appearance, just the timing is not ideal.

Can be read as a part two to A slice of paradise but this is a standalone

warnings: pregnancy, birth descriptions, complicated delivery, blood, yeah...

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The kitchen was dim. The only source of light was the lamp that stood in the living room. The record player lightly filled the space with old tunes as you and Joel swayed in the middle of the kitchen. It was such a rear moment lately. There was so much going on that you two hardly spent time together. Well, now that Joel was refusing to do patrol, he was way more present and even more nagging on your pregnancy brain. Even if it came from the love that he felt for you and the baby, you wish he worried less. But then again, it was easier said than done.

Your arms were lazily draped over your lover's shoulders, head nestled into his chest. Joel's grip on your body was tender. Wearier of you falling by accident, so one of his hands was firmly supporting your back, the other lovingly cupping the side of your bump. As if he were including the babe in your little nighty dance as well. Humming the tune as you two twisted and turned. There was so much love at this moment. So much attentiveness. So much reassurance. That you were in this together. That evening was going to be okay.

Even in Jackson, it was scary to bring a baby into this world. It felt so fragile. In the beginning, it made you feel selfish that you even considered conceiving in circumstances like this. But then there was nothing more that you wanted. You wanted to make Joel a father again. Even if Ellie was your baby girl as it was. You just wanted to give him a chance to raise another one. Because you knew that the fatherly love that he had was endless.

"Sofie?", Joel muttered into the nothingness of the room, and you peeled your head off his chest, shaking your head, "No, no, that's what my neighbor back in Texas was called; she was a.. well, a whore". Joel chuckled slightly and said, "Okay, Sofie gets the chop then". This had been going on for some time now. You two didn't fuss about names at the beginning, but now that you could go into labor in a matter of days, it had become quite a headache. Ellie had presented you with lists of names for both genders. She was excited to become a sister. Well, when her doubts about actually being a part of this family didn't cloud her mind. In all honesty, Ellie's reaction to the news was way more positive than you imagined it to be. The last thing you wanted was for her to feel like she was suddenly losing her rights as your and Joel's daughter.

"What about Margo?", Joel said, hands resting on your sides now, as you two continued to sway. Something in your stomach almost flusters at the sound of that, and that sensation was quickly followed by a strong kick. Joel's face quickly turned into a pleased smirk. You opened your mouth, but Joel only shook his head, "You don't even have to answer darling, our baby girl agrees," you rolled your eyes at him, "You don't even know if it's a girl," "I do she just picked her name". His hands moved to lift the shirt you were wearing. One of Joel's shirts. Both for comfort and also because it smelled like him—that's what you told Joel when he first saw you in it. Plus, at this point, almost nothing fitted you. And not all occasions were fitting for a flowy dress, even if it made the bump look adorable.

Joel's tender findings rubbed your big bump, "You're a smart little one. You like Margo, Margo Miller, huh?" Joel's attention was fully on the baby now. A baby who was happily kicking inside your tummy. A baby that mostly only kicked for Joel. Already daddy's girl or boy. The bond they built was mind-blowing to you. But then again it didn't surprise you. Joel was by your side as much as he could. He talked, sang, and read stories to the bump almost every night. Not a morning was missed without kisses. This was another source of the proposal for Joel.

"Hate to interrupt you both, but I need a snack", you mumbled, brushing some of the hair from Joel's forehead away, "You are free to continue this upstairs, and you'll be much cozier in bed; bending like that will do a number on your back". Joel looked up at you, pretending to be utterly offended by your words, "Are you calling me old?", "I'm calling it snack break that leads to bed break", you gave him a bright smile before turning to search for a jar of pickles. Joel watched you happily munching, a proud smile on his face.

You were wobbling around the kitchen, adding refills of eggs and pancakes to Ellie's plate, when you heard a knock on the door. Joel was quick to move the chair, but you placed a hand on his shoulder, mumbling a quick I got this before moving towards it. "Tommy?", it came out more surprised than it should have, but then again, he rarely came by so early and in the middle of the week as well. The younger Miller glanced towards Joel. Swallowing worriedly, you could feel a sense of dread there. "Did something happen?", you asked, moving to rest your hand on his upper arm. Tommy exhaled carefully, "You might want to kill me, but let me…", "Get to it", Joel said firmly, not breaking eye contact with his brother. "There's an emergency in the nearby town. They don't have a medic good enough", Tommy's eyes were on you now, but Joel cut in firmly, "No".

You speared him no mind though, asking, "What happened?". You had been a medic before the outbreak. It had always been your passion, not just a job. So even the fact that the world fell apart didn't stop you from wanting to help those in need. "I'm not sure, but it's a boy, and he's five at best", he continued, but Joel shook his head. "Don't try to guilt-trip her", "Joel", you warned your lover firmly. "I'm not, but you don't have to; maybe you could just talk to them on the radio?" This had to be serious if Tommy was here in the first place. And the look on his face clearly showed that the morning hasn't been easy for him.

"Get the horses ready", you said softly, "Over my dead body are you riding", Joel was up and walking towards you now. "Rode, you just the other night didn't seem to complain then", you bit back, shooting him an angry look. Ellie snorted while keeping her head down, trying not to catch too much attention, but Joel's glare still landed on her. Messing with Joel in moments like this was dangerous. This man loved his family more than he loved his life. Nothing could stand in his way. And the one who tried never survived long.

"Y/N", he said firmly, "Joel", you repeated the manner. "You're eight months pregnant; this is out of the question", he tried to reason, but in the same way as him, you were stubborn. And if you set your mind on something, making you back away was almost impossible. "You are free to stay, old man", turning to Tommy, you nodded quickly, "Go, get them ready for me, will ya?". Tommy nodded and wasted no time as he slipped out of the house. He knew that Joel's scolding would come sooner or later, but for now, he was thankful to be off the hook.

"Love", Joel's tone was smoother and calm now, as he reached for your arms. You understood his worries, and yes, you were close to giving birth, but the ride was not that long, and you felt just fine. "Joel, I ain't leaving that kid to die", His jaw tightened as he searched your eyes. Now silently pleading for you to skip this one. "You're coming along or staying here?", Joel just shook his head, still frustrated, but he said nothing. Moving towards the stairs to pack a light backpack You knew the frustration would wear off eventually. With time.

"Can I join?", Ellie's voice made you turn to her. "If you want to", you told her. The area was safe and closely monitored. The trade roads were extremely important. At times, exchanging supplies was a crucial part of surviving. "Cool family trip! Like the old days", Ellie chirped. You couldn't help but crack a smile at it. It was quite a trip you all had. Coming to Jackson wasn't easy. It seemed like forever ago now. Yet the incidents lingered in the back of your mind. It still felt too good at times. Well, even the fact that you were pregnant now was a clear indication of how everything had changed. Back in QZ you and Joel were extremely careful. To get pregnant, there was a way to end up in a grave. Here in Jackson, however, it was more than possible.

The boy had an open fracture in his shoulder. A lucky one. An inch lower, and it would have pierced his heart. He was in a critical condition when you got there, but you didn't let your mind slip even for a second. Calm and collected. Not the slightest shake of your fingers. Only when he was laying in between the clean sheets did you let your mind slip, hand resting on your bump as you watched his chest move up and down. The sound of his mother's cries still swirling in your brain. How easy was it to lose someone you loved? Didn't need to be infected even. Anything could happen.

A hand that slipped on your shoulder made you jump. You turned to your side upon seeing Joel there. Your body instantly eased. Joel was scared the whole time you were in the operating room. He didn't move from the little window. Eyes watching you as you worked. Every minute that you stayed up on your feet made him more and more tense. This wasn't okay. You were too far along in your pregnancy to operate for three hours. Your body needed rest, not this. Only now did you realize how tired you were. But you couldn't show it. No, Joel would worry too much, and this was already far too much worrying for one day. So you squeezed his hand firmly before standing up.

You and Ellie were walking through the forest. Well, you were wobbling. Walking properly wasn't an option any longer. Joel was behind you both once again, keeping a close eye on you. You suggested you walked for a bit midway through the ride. Joel gave you a questionable look but nodded his head regardless. "So they just grow like this?", asked Ellie, looking at the bush that was covered in blueberries. You nodded your head, "They do. As a kid, I loved going into the forest to pick berries". It's been quite sometime now that she was a part of your life, but no matter how many stories you told her, Ellie still found things that surprised her.

You encouraged her to reach for the berry. Watching as her eyes gaped as the sweet taste hit her tongue. "Can we get some and make a pie or something?", she asked as she reached for another handful. You smiled at her softly, "Of course we ca-ahh,", you crunched forward. Bracing yourself on the tree that was by your side. Joel's steps picked up as he moved closer to you. Ellie's big eyes watched you. "Mom,", she asked worriedly, even if the tight look on your face eased. Joel's fingers wrapped around your forearms, steadying you. "It's nothing, guys; no one needs to worry", you said. Cupping the material of the long fabric beneath your bump for extra support. "You should sit down for a minute", Joel looked around, trying to find a place for you to rest somewhat comfortably.

"There's no need", you tried to sound calm, but another wave of pain hit you, making you grip Joel's hands. Ellie looked at Joel now. Worry seeped through her because even if she knew little about things like this, it didn't seem like nothing to her. "Y/N…", Joel rasped out himself, trying to undress what was happening. But you knew this wasn't nothing. Because you began to feel strange the moment you arrived in the nearby town. Then the pain picked up during the operation, but you were able to breathe through it. It didn't bother you all too much. You were sure you were good once it eased, but then you couldn't seem to sit on the horse as the pressure and pain increased. You knew this was something more.

"Don't get mad", you said through gritted teeth as the pain slowly eased, "I just… I felt", but it seemed like your baby was more than eager to do the speaking for itself as a warm trickle of liquid started to slowly trail down your legs. The material of your dress dampened. Another breathy exhale caught in your throat as you hissed. Joel moved an arm around your middle, "I fucking told you, shit", "Don't be like that", Ellie warned him quickly. Stress was not what you needed now, yet Joel didn't budge, "Like what? We're in the middle of the woods, and Y/N's water just broke". "Joel," you cried out in pain once more, both hands holding onto your tight stomach as even more liquid rushed down your legs.

"Fuck okay, come here", Joel told you, but you didn't want him to pick you up. "Dad ", Ellie rasped out, "It's okay, everything's okay, we'll figure this out". Joel wasn't sure if he believed it, but he had to. Someone had to. "Can you sit on a horse?", he questioned, but you shook your head straight away. His mind was blanking out for him. Heart racing. This was not how you were supposed to give birth. "I saw a cabin on the way here. It… was just over the valley", Ellie spoke up again, Joel nodded his head. This was the best chance you had because there was no way he was getting you to Jackson in time, "Lead the way, kiddo".

Joel lowered you just by the patio. He needed to go in first and make sure there was no one there. No infected, no raiders. That it was safe. Ellie felt like she was going to grow gray as she watched you grip the railing. She had seen Joe getting stabbed; she had been through so much shit. Put bullets through people's heads, but somehow nothing compares to this and the fear of losing you. "Hey, look at me", you caught Ellie's hand, "It's going to be okay", you rubbed your finger over her palm. "But what if you or the baby… we have no proper…", she rambled on, "Ellie, darling, it's okay". You could only imagine how scary this seemed to her. Considering that she had never seen anyone in a position like this.

"Your sibling is just slightly more excited to meet you", you chuckled slightly, and a little smile broke onto her face as well. "I'd rather she stayed in your stomach till we returned". You hummed at her words, "Funny thing about babies is they don't listen". She breathed with you through the next contraction. Doing and saying the things that she heard Joel say while you were making your way here. "Mom?", Ellie questioned once more as your face eased, "Everything will be okay, right?", you gave her the best smile you could manage, "Of course, babe."

But everything was far from being great. Joel had pulled an old mattress from the other room and placed it next to the fire that was burning in the fireplace. Ellie was anxiously changing the cold, wet cloth on your forehead as you panted rapidly, holding onto Joel's hand. They both felt helpless. Not sure how to soothe or help. The pain was evident on your face, and if at the start you could still speak between the sharp shooting daggers that ripped through you, now it seemed that you barely managed to even take a breath in between them.

Joel moved so he was kneeling between your parted legs. "Breath, love, you need to take proper breaths", his hand moved up and down your thigh, "Remember how we practiced?", you weakly nodded your head, "Of course you do, you're a trooper", "You need to check me," your hand moved towards your thigh. Joel shrugged off his jacket, quickly rolling up his sleeves. You probably would have told him how good he looked like this. But unfortunately for you, the pain was now the center of your consciousness. Joel gave you one more look as if he was asking for permission, and his hand slipped between your legs. "I feel it. I feel the head", he said firmly, and you nodded your head.

The progress was slow, or more like there was none. Your breathing grew more and more labored, yet no matter how much you pushed, it seemed to lead you nowhere, and the energy was slowly starting to leave your body. "Something isn't right", you muttered after another wave had eased. You had started to shake slightly. "What do you mean?", Joel asked you worryingly. Suddenly it all becomes awfully real to Joel. You could easily die. This could easily lead to him to losing you both. And with the amount of blood on the white material… Joel didn't need to have a medical education to know that this wasn't right.

"Tell me what to do", he tried to meet your eyes, but they seemed frantic. The panic was more than discouraging. No, Joel wasn't going to lose you both. That wasn't an option. "Y/N, look at me," he said as he moved closer to you, "We're going to do this". Joel turned to Ellie briefly, "You think you could find your way back to Jackson, kiddo?" Ellie nodded her head rapidly. She had helped as much as she could. Joel tried to keep her away from the blood, but he could do nothing about the screams and clear agony that you were in. "Okay, you need to go get the midwife and Tommy here", Ellie only managed to nod again. She was shaky and scared. But then again, in the same way as Joel, she couldn't lose you. With one last look at you, Ellie darted out, nearly falling off the stairs as she reached for the horse.

"Help me up. The gravity….", you muttered. Joel reached for your hands, pulling you up, before moving to stand against your back. You were all covered in sweat. Your lower half was drenched. You could feel the blood drying on your thighs and cracking as you moved. Please, you thought to yourself. If this went on any further, you were going to faint. Your body felt heavy. You could barely hold onto your knees as you pushed.

"I don't think I can…", you whispered, once Joel helped you to your knees. "Of course, you can", Joel said firmly, but you still shook your head, "This is my fault". But this time Joel cupped your face, making you look at him, "We're bringing this baby into the world, and you two will be just fine. I've got you. I'm with you. I believe in you" he said, leaning his forehead onto your damp one. Joel took a moment to breathe. You needed him to be strong now. He needed to be your rock.

You pushed and pushed, and minutes melted into what felt like endless nothingness. Joel's voice guided you through it all. You had no clue how he managed it, but he was holding onto one of your legs, giving you extra support to press onto something as you pushed. While the other occasionally slipped behind you, to help you push up. "Come on, one more, mama. One more", Joel's hand rested behind the infant's head as he looked back up at you, "Give me one big one, and we'll be a family of four". You did just that. With a deep breath, you pushed with all that you had left. Yet another scream ripped past your lips, and the pressure suddenly eased as your head fell back onto the mattress.

Joel quickly pulled the baby up as the loudest cry filled the living room. He couldn't help a smile; he couldn't help the tears that filled his eyes. Joel reached for his jacket, quickly wrapping the babe in it, and rocking it gently. "Hello, gorgeous, look at your cries", he cooed at the newest Miller for a moment before his eyes moved up to look at your tired face that was now covered in tears as well. "So…", you trailed off as Joel leaned over to you so he could rest the baby on your chest. "Dad had a good intuition", he teased, and you felt another wave of tears coming. "A girl", you muttered, looking down at the pruny baby in your arms. "Oh, you sweet angel", your finger carefully traced her cheek, "As stubborn as her mom too". Joel moved behind you, making sure that you were comfortable as you rested against his chest. "She has your eyes", you muttered, looking up at your lover, who looked down at you lovingly. "Can you believe that we made her?", he asked. You shook your head, "I'm still mortified that this is a dream".

The sudden noises outside made you both perk up. Joel reached for the gun, pointing it straight at the door. Just as breathless Ellie fell into the room. Behind her, a dark-haired lady rushed into the living room. Smiling at the sight of the baby bundled up in your arms, "Look at you three, good job, and congratulations". Lydia was the main midwife in Jackson. She cupped your cheeks, stealing a glance at the baby before moving to look at the mattress.

"Check her first, Lydia,", you asked her, but the lady only shook her head, "No, darling girl, you're still bleeding, and the baby with lungs like that is more than healthy". You wanted to argue, but the chaos of the room suddenly made you feel dizzy. Your mouth went dry. "You two, baby, and Ellie, out of the room now", the midwife pointed quickly to the two Miller brothers. "What's going on?", Joel asked, yet no one answered him as Lydia pulled your body up and away from Joel. Only now did Joel see how pale you were. But Maria placed the baby into his arms before pushing them all out of the room.

Joel's worries didn't die. They were clouding his brain. You were fine just a moment ago. You talked and… But then he saw Ellie's big eyes searching the room. She looked so small. So lost and so scared. "El", Joel called out lovingly, making her snap her head towards him, "Want to see your sister?". A long-lost sparkle gleamed in Ellie's eyes. "A girl?", she muttered under her breath. "Margo. Unless your mom changes her mind", Ellie stepped closer, careful as ever. As if too big a step might harm the baby somehow. Her hands stayed by her side as she looked at the baby in Joel's arms. "She needs a bath", Ellie muttered, Joel laughed slightly, "Yeah, we can give her one after", she nodded, her eyes never leaving the infant.

"Can I… I don't have to", she trailed off, "Come here, make sure you support her head", Joel made room on the rundown sofa that was in the room they were rushing into. Ellie's arms were stiff. She stopped her breathing for a moment. "She's so tiny… Hi", the baby grasped onto her finger, making Ellie look up at Joel as if she was asking if this was okay, but he only smiled at her. "You reckon she knows who I am?", Ellie asked. Joel leaned in to kiss the side of her head. "After all the dance parties you had and the cookies you made? I think you are already best friends". Ellie nodded her head in approval, yet her eyes darted to the door and asked, "And mom?".

Here was where Joel didn't know what to say. He wanted to reassure her but he couldn't. Because he didn't know what was going on. What if you were dead? A cold shiver ran down his back. No, you couldn't. His chest started to grow heavy all of a sudden. But the door swung open, and Joel had stood up at lightning speed. "Lydia,", he called out, bracing himself for the worst, but the old lady just gave him a warm smile. "She lost a bit more blood, but everything is okay. She's all cleaned up; you three should head to her", Joel practically sank to the floor as those words filled his mind. Whoever was guarding him was working overtime. He turned to Ellie, but she was already walking through the door with Margo in her hands. "You did a good job", Lydia squeezed Joel's hand, "Go have some family time with your girls".

Ellie was nestled by your side, silent tears falling down her cheeks as you held her close. Joel stepped in as quietly as he could, but his eyes instantly found yours. You gave him a weak smile. You knew he could tell just how tired you were. "I'm so outnumbered by females now," he said as he sat down by your other side. Moving your hand to his lips as he kissed it. He nudged Ellie slightly, feeling even more ease slip through his body as she giggled. "You're destined to be a girl, dad", you muttered, running your hand up and down the baby's back as she started to fuss.

"I think someone's hungry", you said, trying to get more comfortable. Joel instantly stood up so he could pull you up slightly, reaching for a spear blanket before putting it behind the makeshift pillow. The suckling noises filled the space within seconds, as Margo happily latched on. Her tiny fist flexed in the air. Ellie instantly moved her finger for Margo to grasp; her tiny fingers wrapped around it, and her fussing eased as she ate.

Joel just watched you three, his hand resting on your thigh. This was both the scariest and most beautiful experience ever. He got to bring his baby girl into the world. He had missed Sarah's birth back then. Only got to see her wrapped up in a pink blanket hours later. It had eaten at him for years. He knew he wanted to be here this time. There was no doubt, and now, after everything, he thought that it couldn't have been more perfect.

"You're okay?", your fingers squeezed his thigh gently, making him turn to you. "Yeah, just thinking about how perfect you are and how much I love you all", you couldn't help but smile, mumbling a quick I love you back to him. It was Ellie who was struck by those words the most. She knew that you both loved her. You had told her that many times, but Joel had never directly spoken about it. "I love you all as well", she mumbled back. Joel glanced at her as he reached for her hand.

"You reckon we could all fit on this", you spoke up after a minute, already starting to feel tired again. "I take the left side", Ellie said quickly, once again moving closer to you. "Who said we're allowed to call dibs", Joel questioned teasingly. "You snooze, you lose", she stuck out her tongue as you brushed some of the hair away from her face. "There's plenty of space for everyone to get a cuddle", you said softly as Joel slipped behind you, your body melted into his tender chest. One of his hands sneaked behind yours so he could support Margo, who was still feasting. Joel pressed a kiss to your shoulder. Life had both taken away from him, but then gave him so much more. His other hand rested on Ellie's back protectively. This was both empowering and crippling at the same time. Between Joel's arms was his whole world. World that was made up of you three. His biggest treasure. His most prized possession.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #the last of us imagine #the last of us x reader #pedro pascal x reader

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