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whorekneecentral · 1 year ago

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Your Pick

Fernando Alonso x Fem!Reader

Warnings: pr!reader, a bit of an age gap (reader is mid twenties) randomness from nando's end, unspoken feelings until now, thigh riding, penetrative sex (p in v), a bit of teasing, praise kink go burrrr, creampie.

Word Count: 2,358

Author's Note: I literally only picked the middle pic for @oconso, it was for her. you’re welcome.

merry smutmas series

Fernando enlists the help of a certain someone to get his Christmas shopping done but the list is oddly familiar.

A charity event that Fernando attended every year, some sort of mission for children and their dream of being a driver. Fernando gave them an afternoon of his time, indulging them in all of their questions and stories, sharing some of his own as well.

You were, of course, right there with him. You weren't needed for this event exactly but as his press officer, you followed him. Sebastian often joked when he saw you that you were to Fernando what Britta is to him; except for the fact that you are much younger and hadn't been with Fernando for as long.

The idea was the same, you did everything for him. From making sure he gets there on time to meeting fans and signing everything he can.

At some point during the long event, Fernando asks you if you can do him a favour, handing you a piece of paper.

"I need to pick up some stuff, you can take my car. Oh and my card." He tells you, fishing the keys and his card out of his pocket to hand it over to you.

The keys to his Aston in your hand, along with the card and a list with some words scribbled along the lines, both in English and Spanish. You'd just have to figure it out along the way.

"You don't need me to stay?" You asked, looking between the list and the man. Fernando shook his head, "I'm good here. You should be done by the time I'm done here, no?"

"Probably."

"Come back when you're done, I'll wait for you."

You nodded, telling him you'd text him when you're done before you head out. The car beeps when you press the unlock button, a slick, shiny grey DBX 707 sat in the parking lot. You smiled to yourself, getting into the car and shutting the door.

The list sat on your lap, you looked over the things on the list and the places you'd get to go.

First stop on the list was Chanel; a Chanel classic with the double flap in Tiffany blue. It was stunning, Fernando had dotted down that he wanted it in the medium size. You were surprised he even knew what that meant.

His card beeped on the machine, the woman smiles as she hands the bag over to you. You carry it as you walk down the street to Christian Louboutin.

Purses, clothes and shows lined the walls, you felt like you were underdressed but the massive Chanel bag you were carrying fit you right in with the other rich people in the store.

You asked the woman for the shoes that he had written down; so Kate 120 in black, size 8.

You waited for her to bring them back. "Would you like to try them on, miss?" The woman asks, the slick box in her hands. You shook your head, "that's alright, thank you."

"Is this all?" She smiles, and you nod. The woman leads you to the front, doubling checking the sizes of the shoes and packaging it up into the brown bag.

There's one more place on the list that you've got to stop; Dior.

It's a few minutes drive from where you were, you leave the other bags in the car and head into the store. Fernando has listed that he was looking for the Miss Dior perfume. You look around a bit, stopping at the back to look at the wall of fragrances they had set up. You look closely and carefully and still you don't see the one that Fernando had wanted.

You reach for your phone, texting the man.

To Fernando: Hey, they don't have the perfume you wanted.

From Fernando: Which one was that again?

To Fernando: Miss Dior.

From Fernando: Just pick another one.

To Fernando: Any one?

From Fernando: Yeah, you have good taste. I trust your judgement.

You reply with a thumbs up and decide to look for something that you liked. It was a bit odd that Fernando sent you out like this, he did it often but never like this. He was never one to have you shop for someone who was clearly a woman. She must be important to him if he's spending so much on her.

You ended up picking out Dior Addict in place of Miss Dior. This one had the same jasmine scent with more of a vanilla undertone. You pay and take the bag from the man at the counter with a smile.

Getting back into the car, you reach over and set the bag with the others. You texted Fernando to let him know that you were on your way back, to which he replied with a thumbs up emoji.

It was a 20 minutes drive back to where he was, and once you arrived, you waited in the car for him. You were scrolling through your phone when a tap on the window startled you.

Looking over, you see Fernando. You wind down the window, "uber for Fernando ?" He asks, a cheeky grin on his face.

You roll your eyes. "Haha," you say flatly. "Do you want to drive?" You look over at him and he shakes his head, walking around to get into the passenger seat. Fernando lifts your purse, setting it on his lap carefully.

"Where to then?" You look over at him, yet again. "Home?

"Yours," he says, looking through your purse.

"Stop that," you smack his arms, turning the key to start the engine. The car purrs in response, a sound only luxury cars have.

"Do you have gum?" He asks, still looking.

"Front pocket," you inform him, heading towards your place. It didn't strike you as odd to be heading to yours. Fernando often picked you up so you just assumed you'd get home and then he'd head out to his place.

What did strike you as odd was Fernando taking the bags out of the car and following you up the stairs to your front door. "What are you doing?" You turned, clearly confused.

"Go on, I need to come in."

"What if I don't want you to come in?" Your question made him laugh, the man shaking his head. "Just go," he tells you, knowing you're just being difficult.

You unlock the door and walk in, Fernando sets the bags in the living room and makes himself comfortable on the couch. He had been to your place before it wasn't like it was awkward or anything. You just weren't sure why he wanted to come in.

"Want some coffee?" You called from the kitchen, filling the kettle. "Tea would be nice," he calls back.

You shake your head, setting two mugs on the counter. "I didn't offer any tea."

"I'm suggesting it then." He leans over the back of the couch, smiling at you. You roll your eyes, dropping the teabag in the cup while you wait for the kettle to boil.

Finding your way over to the living room, you sit on the floor by the couch. Fernando sets the bags on the floor next to you and you assumed that he was making space for you on the couch but instead spoke; "show me what you got."

The statement left you a bit confused, he had given you a list, of course he knew what was on it but you indulged, taking the stuff out of the bags.

You have them set on the floor in front of you, Fernando watches as you show him each thing carefully, not wanting to scuff or damage them.

"Do you like them?" He asks and you nod, "I do. Just a bit confused though," you look up at the man.

"Why's that?"

"Well.. you've always been the type of guy who shops for their women themselves so it just struck me as odd that you asked me to shop and pick up.. this."

Fernando smiles, "well I was busy and she's an important person to me, perhaps the most important."

You raise an eyebrow, looking at the driver. "Ohhhh okay.. so you have a girlfriend? C'mon, tell me, tell meeeee!" You nudged his knee, propping your elbow up on the couch as you turned your attention to him.

He doesn't say anything, he just smiles at you. This time was different; it wasn't playfully or teasing, there was something sincere about the way he looked at you.

It takes you a moment but you finally speak, "what? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"The stuff is for you." He says and you look at him, clearly confused.

"You made me shop for my own Christmas gift? Fernando, that's.." It hits you at once, all the things he had listed were things you had mentioned to him that you liked over the last year or so.

Your hands covered your mouth, looking at him in shock. "Fernando, oh my god.. no." You shook your head, "this is too much."

"It's not," he rests his hand on yours, "you've been by my side for as long as I can remember, you do everything for me. You're the only person I trust and well.. love. You deserve this and so much more."

"It's a lot," you whisper and the man hushes you, letting you pull him into a hug. "Thank you." You whisper yet again, unsure how to repay him for his kindness; you knew you didn't have too, seeing that it was a Christmas gift but still.

Fernando's hand cups your jaw, thumb brushing over your skin softly. He smiles at you, wondering how he got so lucky. Not everyone gets to have someone they love in their life and he was lucky enough to find that in you.

You can't help it, it was like instinct. Shifting onto your knees when you reach up, your hand wrapping around his wrist to pull him closer, your lips on his.

A part of you thinks he's not gonna react and pretend it never happened and the other part of you expected him to push you away but he did neither.

Instead, he kissed you back.

He helps you up off the floor and onto his lap, having you settle on his lap. "Let me take care of you," he says, his hand cupping your face, finally pulling away from the kiss.

"Yeah," you lean into him once again. You stay in his lap, Fernando pushes the skirt you had on up a bit, shifting you onto his thigh.

His hands rest on your hips, rocking you on his thigh; back and forth very slowly. His head leaned back and he lifted his leg slightly. The sudden change caused you to slide forward, clit rubbing against the denim fabric under you.

The sound that left your mouth was like heaven on earth to him.

“So beautiful,” he coos, pushing your hair back off your shoulders. “So good for me.”

You nod, pushing down on his thigh a little harder. “Let me hear all those pretty sounds, you don’t have to be quiet, mi vida.”

Little by little, your top and bra ended up on the floor along with Fernando's shirt. Your hands ran over his shoulders, down his biceps to his forearms.

His fingers creeped up under the hem of your skirt, "I've been waiting to have you to myself."

"Why's that?" You shift a bit to look at him, an arm over his shoulders as you look at him.

“Because I’m gonna ruin all that pretty makeup," he whispers to you, pulling you for a kiss.

It only spiralled from there; hands all over each other, clothes being tugged and pulled on. You’re both impatient, wanting more than you can get too at the moment.

Fernando scoots you back on his lap, undoing his pants as your skirt gets pushed up on your hips, panties pulled to the side before you sink down onto his cock.

He bucks his hips and your nails drop down from his shoulders to the scratches along his back. He lets out a groan, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

"Oh god," you mumble, thighs on either side of the man as you roll your hips, arms over his shoulders. One of your hands tangles in the hair at the nape of his neck, giving it a solid tug.

Fernando tilts his head back, a soft groan slipping from his lips when he feels your own lips meet his skin.

“Fuck, do that again.” He mumbles, feeling you clench around him. Soon enough he can feel your hands on his shoulders, letting you set your own pace, bouncing on his cock as your nails dug into the back of his shoulders; surely leaving behind red marks.

His own hands digging into your hips hard enough to leave behind their own marks but that was the least of your concern right now.

“Fernando,” you whimper, forehead pressed to his.

He feels you clench around him, your hips stuttering and he knows you’re close. His hand moving from your mouth to between the two of you, fingers rubbing circles over your clit and your head falls onto his shoulder, biting down to muffle the sounds slipping past your lips.

He rests a hand behind your neck, pulling you back slightly. “Look at me,” he tells you, kissing you softly. You both knew the other was equally as close, orgasm on the verge of happening. His hand shifted to grab your chin, pulling your focus back to him. “Look at me when you cum.”

His words were enough to push you over the edge, Fernando following quickly after you.

You fall flat against him and Fernando lets you sit on top of him for a bit, his hand rubbing around your back softly, fingers tracing random patterns into your skin.

"You okay?" He whispers and you nod, sitting up a bit to look at him. "What?" He asks, seeing the look on your face.

"How did you know my sizes? You know.. for the gifts."

He smiles, kissing your shoulder. "I pay attention, you know."

---

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#merry smutmas xoxo #fernando alonso #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso smut #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 smut

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 3 months ago

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Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 12: Please Call Me Only If You Are Coming Home]

A/N: Only 1 chapter left!!! 🥳 Be sure to vote in our final poll, which will be pinned at the top of my blog per usual 🥰

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon™️, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes.

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Homecoming” by Green Day.

Word count: 5.8k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

“What the hell do you need that for?” Cregan says to Helaena in the next aisle over, sounding alarmed. You are raiding a Kwik Stop just outside Colusa, California, following Route 20 west towards the Pacific Ocean. But when Helaena replies, her voice is perfectly soothing, lyrical, too serene for the way the world is now.

“It’s not for me. It’s just in case anyone ever finds themselves in need of one.” And this makes sense, even though you can’t see what it is she’s taken off the disorderly, ransacked shelves; Helaena is always picking up trinkets to keep stowed away in her burlap messenger bag until their utility becomes essential.

Cregan is relieved. “Oh, okay, gotcha. Whew, you almost gave me a heart attack there, Miss LaeLae…”

Ice is stretched out and dozing on the cool tile floor. Luke and Rhaena are keeping watch by the front of the store. Aegon is standing by the decommissioned Icee machine and showing Daeron which route he’s marked on his map and why.

“Why do I need to know this?” Daeron is asking.

Aegon snorts. “In case I get killed, dumbass…”

Fluttering pieces of paper hang taped to the glass doors of the empty refrigerators: Don’t go towards Sacramento; People in Santa Rosa killed my brother for his car; Andrew Lounsbury, if you see this we are headed to Aunt Sarah’s house, meet us there! Meanwhile, in your own aisle, Aemond is watching you as your fingers flit through packages of Starbursts and Jolly Ranchers and Life Savers Gummies, separating the trash from the ones that haven’t been opened yet. His expression is wary, uncertain. “What?” you ask him.

“Are you…okay?” Aemond says, low enough that no one else will hear.

Of course you aren’t; you keep walking into rooms and looking for Rio, and he’s not there. But you know what Aemond means. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

“Did I hurt you? Are you…” He steps closer, the blue of his eye gleaming with attentive, penitent concern, sins he is certain he must have committed. “Are you sore, are you bleeding at all?”

You smile, just the ghost of a curve at the edge of your lips. “No, really, I feel fine.” And in your body, this is true. There is a tension that has vanished from your muscles, a softness in your bones, not shards of glass shifting beneath skin but living things like the branches of trees, flexible, green, damp life awash within.

“I was trying to…you know…take it slow and be super gentle, but then…by the end…”

“Aemond, you did everything right.”

And he exhales all the iron-heavy dread he’s been carrying around since he woke up this morning to find you already gone—showing Aegon how to flip Bisquick pancakes as Cregan browned them in a skillet in the woodstove downstairs—and you realize how much you’ve scared him. “I’m really sorry about…” He touches his chin restlessly. “I should have asked you if you wanted me to pull out, I just got, uh…kind of…distracted.”

Your smile grows; now you can feel it in your eyes, warm and luminous. “It’s alright. I did too.”

He is hopeful. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I wouldn’t have told you to stop. And anyway, I think we’re safe.” But of course you’ve lost track of the days, and in your dark trance of grief and Tramadol you were entirely unaware of the rhythms of your body, pangs of desire or clear ample wetness, biological cues, primal timekeeping.

“Cool,” Aemond says, now trying to sound casual. “And next time…are you thinking that I should try to…maybe…just to be sure…?”

You shrug, then tell him the first thing that comes into your mind, that flashes in your skull like lightning bugs at dusk. “I’m thinking that life is too short and too rare to put effort into preventing it.”

Aemond’s eyebrows go up, but he doesn’t seem disappointed. “So we’ll see what happens.”

“If you’re onboard.”

“I’m totally onboard. I just want to take care of you. I…” He glances down at his palms—open, clean—and then looks back up at you. “I’ve never had anything that felt right before. Not my family, not myself, nothing. But this feels right. And it’s where I want to be forever.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” And this is what everyone thought: Jace, Baela, Rio. But you make the oath anyway, a hollow promise that echoes like a windchime.

“Me either,” Aemond vows.

You turn to leave the aisle and your backpack hits the shelf, knocking something off the top and onto the tile floor, where it lands with a thump. You gasp, and people come running; but it’s only a box of Honey Buns that was stashed somewhere too high for you to see. “It’s nothing,” you assure them. “We’re all okay, no need to get excited.”

“Death by Little Debbie,” Aegon says, chuckling nervously, his heart still racing.

You pick up the box and think of Rio with abrupt, violent clarity: he’s playing with French-speaking kids on the beach outside Djibouti City, he’s drinking cans of Guinness with you under a full moon on Diego Garcia, he’s reaching out from the pier to pet finless porpoises in Chinhae, he’s bleeding to death on a floor in Winnemucca, Nevada. Your vision is blurring with tears; your throat is knotted and scalding.

“I want him back,” Aegon says softly.

“I know. I do too.” You open the box of Honey Buns and pass one to Aegon first, then distribute the rest. There are only six total. Helaena tries to give hers to Cregan, but he rips it in half so they can share; Aemond insists you take the last one. You eat it wordlessly, sugar melting into your bloodstream.

“I think I saw a minivan down the side street,” Luke says as he chews his Honey Bun, waving his binoculars with his free hand. “It’s probably out of gas like all the others, but…”

“We’ll check it out,” Aemond replies, and everyone follows him as he departs from the Kwik Stop.

It’s a green Kia Carnival with a zombie trapped inside: once a young man in a Nirvana t-shirt, now a ghoul that paws at the glass with its oozing hands and licks the windows, long animal drags of a decomposing tongue. But the fuel cap is still closed, and while the van is turned off you can see the keys dangling from the ignition.

“Think there’s any gas left in the tank?” Daeron says brightly. The Targaryen beach house, following the indirect route you must take to avoid the cities, is about 250 miles from where you are now in Colusa. That’s two weeks on foot, or as few as five hours by car.

Rhaena goes for the driver’s side door. “Let’s find out.” She yanks on the handle to discover it’s locked. Cregan uses his axe to shatter the window, and the zombie tumbles gracelessly out onto the pavement, rancid skin and necrotic muscle ripping from its bones. As it crawls towards the siren call of fresh meat, Ice barks viciously and Cregan swings his axe. The blade slices easily through the monster’s skull, and its flailing, murderous limbs go still.

Rhaena reaches through the broken window to unlock the doors, climbs into the driver’s seat, and turns the key in the ignition. There is a blessed sound: the thunder of a living engine. “Half a tank!” Rhaena cheers.

Aegon gags as he opens the passenger’s side door. “Oh, it reeks so bad…”

“We’ll roll down all the windows,” Aemond says curtly.

“There are organs on the floor! What the fuck is that, a liver?!”

Aemond gives it a cursory glance. “Looks like a spleen.”

“I don’t want to sit near a spleen! I don’t even know what a spleen does!”

“Then throw it outside somewhere!” Aemond snaps. “You’re thirty years old, you can’t clean a minivan?!”

Aegon grumbles as he uses sheets of Burger King coupons from the glovebox to toss zombie guts into the grass. Aemond wipes down the hard surfaces with antiseptic. Luke keeps watch and Daeron shoots down several zombies as they lurch out of nearby houses and towards the Kia Carnival. You ask Helaena for the box of 9mm bullets in her messenger bag and she gives it to you. You load your Beretta M9, stow the remaining bullets in your backpack, and take aim at the approaching zombies to make sure you still know how to get into the rhythm, that you can still be a killer when the circumstances require it. You are out of practice, but you’re beginning to feel more like yourself again. Aemond brought you back. They all did.

When the minivan is as clean as possible, everyone hurries inside and Rhaena drives west on Route 20 under the afternoon sun. At the intersection with Route 53, Aegon directs Rhaena to follow it south around Clear Lake, then to take Route 29 west through rolling hills that were once filled with vineyards, wineries, music, weddings, horse farms. Now the land is hushed, and wild, and dotted with silhouettes that sway drunkenly and swipe at vultures when they try to gobble tattered strips of putrid flesh that unravel from bones like the bandages of a mummy.

The Kia Carnival rides Route 175 west and then Route 101 south, where the earth turns dry and rocky and barren, reminding you of northern Nevada and piling stones of heartache in your belly. In a place called Pieta—an old 1800s railroad depot, according to a plaque mounted just off the road—Rhaena slows down to get a better look at something that doesn’t make any sense. There is a souvenir shop of rocks and gems, now long out of business, and in a shed beside the main building hangs a gruesome specimen that you can see through the open doors. It has two arms and two legs, but it’s not a zombie. Its flayed flesh is a vibrant, healthy red; parts of the thighs and chest have been carefully carved away like cuts of meat are sliced from beef cattle. It is suspended on meat hooks. It is being butchered.

Cregan notes uneasily: “That ain’t an opossum or a bison.”

“I think it’s human,” Aemond says, horrified.

“Guess we’re not stopping for the night anytime soon,” Rhaena quips, then floors the gas pedal.

One of Aegon’s mixtapes spins in the CD player. From the speakers flows Somebody To You by The Vamps.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Do you see anyone now?” Aemond asks.

Luke speaks without looking away from his binoculars. “And for the fourth time, my answer remains no.”

After a night’s rest in a cabin at Camp Liahona Redwoods in Sonoma County, you followed California State Route 1 down the coast of the Pacific Ocean until the Kia Carnival finally ran out of gas just south of Olema, a small town founded in the 1850s. A ten-mile hike has brought you to the cliff where the fabled Targaryen beach house is perched with a few hours left before sunset. The ailing daylight is golden, the wave crests glittering, gulls cawing as they swoop through the salt-lashed air. From the road that twists like a snake through the slopes of Bolinas—thick with redwoods, Douglas firs, oaks, cypresses, tall grass that whips in the wind and tufts of eucalyptus—Luke is searching the property. It is less a house than a mansion, a museum, a monument, a work of art: sharp rectangular lines and glass walls, balconies, fountains, a pool, a garden.

Cregan whistles. “A place like that has to cost a million dollars.”

“Try fifteen million,” Aemond says distractedly, and Cregan gawks at him.

“Well, from what I can see it looks safe,” Luke declares, lowering his binoculars. “No zombies.”

“You really think they’re in there?” Daeron asks eagerly. “Mom and Criston?”

“Yeah, kid,” Aegon says, squeezing Daeron’s shoulder; but his voice is morose, like he knows he has surrendered to something, a path of least resistance, a hostile planet’s gravity. “Of course they are. Let’s go say hi.”

At the end of the driveway, the five-car garage is open. There is an Alfa Romeo, a Porsche, a Ferrari, a Ducati motorcycle, and a white Chevy Tahoe, which Aemond says belongs to Criston. And there are other items of interest mounted on the walls.

“Yes!” Daeron says as he runs to a quiver full of arrows for his compound bow. Aegon lifts a golf club out of its bag and makes an imaginary putt, getting reacquainted with the feeling of his hands on the grip.

“This is an iron,” Aegon says when he catches you watching him. In the shade of the garage, he pushes his neon green plastic sunglasses up into his windswept hair. “It’s metal all the way through and gives you good control over the shot. Drivers are for long-distance, and wedges and putters don’t have enough power. But an iron is just right.”

“Are you going to teach me how to golf?”

Aegon grins, his first real smile all day. “You think you can handle it, SunChips?”

“I don’t,” you answer honestly, and he laughs.

“If you teach me how to shoot, I’ll teach you how to golf.”

“An unfair trade! My skill is useful.”

Aemond knocks on the door that connects the garage to the main house. “Mom? Criston?” There is no response; all of you wait for one, listening intently through the crashes of waves and reverberating gull shrieks. Ice begins to pace agitatedly and nudges Cregan’s hands. He looks at Aemond, half-fear and half-sympathy.

“No,” Aemond says. “No, she’s wrong.”

“She might be,” Cregan replies, steady and ever-agreeable. Helaena is wringing her small, gentle hands. Everyone is watching Aemond to see what they should do next.

He pounds on the door again, this time with a closed fist. “Mom, we’re home! Mom? Criston? It’s me! It’s Aemond!”

Still, there is no answer. Aemond tries the doorknob, and it turns unimpeded. It is unlocked. He opens the door, peeks inside, and then crosses through the threshold. The rest of you trail him like he has eight shadows, the last in the shape of a wolf.

You step into the living room: wide open windows, the ocean breeze breathing through the house. The air tastes like sand and saltwater, sun and blue skies. There are three-story glass walls that overlook the water, a staircase leading up to the next floor, pristine white couches, black end tables topped with vases full of dead flowers, grey marble floors, bejeweled golden crosses that glint cruelly in the bloody late-afternoon light, family photographs on the mantle of the fireplace. There are many pictures of Aemond, and some of Helaena and Daeron as well. You don’t see a single photo of Aegon. He notices you scanning the snapshots in the frames and looks away, ashamed.

“Mom?” Aemond calls, his voice ricocheting through the vast, open space, clinical like a hospital or a morgue. “Criston?”

“Grandpa?” Helaena says meekly. Cregan is clutching his axe and peering around vigilantly. Ice whines and paces, her strange yellow eyes glowing like flecks of gold in a stream. Rhaena tries to soothe her with ear scratches; Ice begins to howl, low long mournful sounds.

You catch Aegon’s attention when he glances at you again. “This isn’t right,” you whisper. “If they were here, they would have heard us by now.”

Aegon turns to his brother. “Hey, Aemond…”

And then there are footsteps from upstairs, slow and shambling. Everyone looks, and it appears at the top of the steps like a mirage or a night terror, like a wrathful god glaring down from Mount Olympus. Long, filthy strands of white hair hang from what is left of its scalp. Its gore-stained teeth are bared. Its eyes are cloudy like the poisoned atmosphere of another planet, one gasp enough to singe your lungs and infect your bloodstream. The snarls pour out ragged and rasping from its disintegrating vocal chords. The man was wearing a suit when he died, and the pale blue shirt is now splattered with crimson and bits of rotting flesh. The black leather shoes on its feet clop as the zombie descends the staircase with staggering, unnatural steps, its decaying arms grasping for the mortals who wait below.

Daeron says numbly: “Dad?”

Aemond’s eye is wide and dazed. Ice is growling. Helaena is screaming and fleeing towards the wall; Cregan embraces her and she clings to him. “Aemond? Buddy?” Cregan shouts. “How do you want to handle this?” And what he means is: Do you want to kill it, or should someone else? Do you need time to process what’s happened? How can we help you?

“Aemond?” you say. You touch his arm; he doesn’t react. Rhaena draws her Ruger but doesn’t shoot yet. She is looking to Aemond for permission. Luke is standing in front of Rhaena and forcing her backwards as the zombie nears the bottom of the staircase. Now you can smell it: dark wet rot, spoiled meat, blood and oily fat and organs putrefying in a threadbare patchwork of flesh.

“Dad!” Daeron wails, and he’s covering his face with his hands because he knows what this must mean for the rest of his family too.

“Aemond?!” Rhaena yells. “Aemond, what do you want us to do?!”

You reach for your M9 as the zombie’s leather shoes settle on the marble floor. This seems to shake Aemond from his paralysis.

“No,” he says. “I’ll do it.” He grabs his Glock and aims, but his finger hesitates on the trigger. And you can see the ghosts of the people who have died by his hands lurking in the crystalline blue of his remaining eye: Alys, Jace, Baela and her baby…and now Viserys Targaryen too.

In the lull, in the indecision, Aegon roars and swings his golf club. The metal head collides with the zombie’s skull. Weak corroded bone collapses; blood and brains the color of black mold leak out onto the polished marble.

“It wasn’t enough, huh?!” Aegon screams, then hits the zombie again. The corpse crumples to the floor, but Aegon isn’t done yet. “You couldn’t just fuck everything up when you were alive, you had to keep torturing us from beyond the grave, you sick bastard, you selfish prick, what is wrong with you?!” He whacks the carcass with his golf club again and again. “I hate you! I hate you! You deserved so much worse than this! We crossed an entire goddamn country, and Jace died, and Baela died, and Rio died, all so we could get back here, and now it’s all for nothing because you’ve destroyed everyone you’ve ever touched! I fucking hate you!”

Aegon strikes the zombie one last time—the skull is a pulverized soup of gore and bone fragments—and before anyone can reach for him, he has bolted up the steps to search the rest of the house. You find them in their final resting places: bones in the hallway interspersed with gold rings and a medallion of Saint Irene of Thessaloniki, bones in the shower pierced with stainless steel surgical screws from hip and knee replacements, bones in the master bedroom entangled with shreds of a bloodstained silk nightgown and long locks of auburn hair. Daeron is sobbing, and Cregan takes Helaena outside to the garden to calm down, and Aemond wanders through the rooms in shock. You don’t know what to say to him; you remember how nothing anyone said made a difference when Rio died. But Aegon is furious. He tears away from everyone and goes to his bedroom: racks full of CDs, neon green blankets, an acoustic guitar propped in one corner. Then he ravages his hiding places—inside drawers, under his mattress, on tiny shelves he carved into the walls behind golf and Green Day posters—and collects mint tins. Then he pours out the white powder inside onto his desk and arranges it into lines like contrails behind airplanes, like wagon trails across the earth.

You try to stop him. “Aegon, wait, please don’t—”

“Get the fuck out,” he hisses, and for the first time you see the cold reptilian sheen of something like hate in his eyes. “You don’t have to pretend to love me. I can be alone. I’m used to it.”

“Aegon, I’m not—”

“They’re gone. You can leave too.” Then he slams the door and locks it.

~~~~~~~~~~

While Aegon is upstairs getting high and Helaena is downstairs inventorying supplies in the massive walk-in pantry, the rest of you use shovels from the garage to bury what is left of the bodies in the backyard, unceremonious shallow graves, the soil too rocky for anything more elaborate. Rhaena uses her jagged sliver of slate to mark stones with their names and a few kind words about each of them; but Viserys’ stone is left blank. Then Rhaena returns inside to help Helaena prepare for dinner, while Daeron inspects the perimeter of the house with Cregan and Ice. Luke uses a telescope near the pool not to gaze up at the rising stars but to study the neighboring properties.

Aemond murmurs as he stands in front of the four graves: “I should have gotten here sooner. Maybe I could have saved them.”

“You still have a family,” you say, begging him to believe that there are things worth living for. “You have Aegon and Daeron and Helaena, Rhaena, Luke, Cregan. And you have me.”

Aemond stares out over the Pacific Ocean. The sky above is red and lavender, fire and dreams. “How do we get to Diego Garcia?” He is only half-joking.

“Well you just find a boat and row about 10,000 miles that way.”

He sighs and drags his trembling fingers through his hair. It has always been his job to know what happens next, and now he doesn’t. Gulls squawk and wheel in the air. His right cheek glistens with tears.

“I never saw the ocean until I joined the Navy,” you say, and Aemond looks over at you, curious but not wanting to react in the wrong way and scare you into going quiet again. He’s always mining for details of your past, and you’re endlessly evading him. But perhaps you have been too secretive. He wants to know these things because he wants to know you, and you have no idea how long you’ll be here to shed your mysteries. If a story dies with you, it dies forever.

“Really?”

“Yeah. My mother…Mama, I always called her Mama…she went to Virginia Beach a few times while I was growing up, and that was her favorite place in the world. But she never took me with her. She’d go with my aunt or my oldest brothers. So when I got to basic training on the shore of Lake Michigan, that was the closest thing to an ocean I’d ever seen, and it absolutely amazed me.”

“Lake Michigan,” Aemond repeats, trying not to sound like he’s mocking you.

You smile. “And then of course I ended up in some more impressive places. But compared to Soft Shell, Lake Michigan was a whole different planet.”

“Soft Shell?”

“Like softshell turtles. They’re one of those animals that are so ugly they’re almost cute. We have a lot of them in Kentucky. Well, we used to. Maybe people ate them all when the food ran out.”

“Soft Shell, Kentucky,” Aemond says. “What was it like? I mean…I know you left, and I know you had good reasons…but I’ve never been to Kentucky. I’ve never really been to Appalachia period.”

“It’s beautiful. You get all four seasons, and you’re out in nature all the time, and it feels old, like hardly anything has changed there in thousands of years. You feel connected to the earth. I loved the forests and the mountains. I don’t think I realized how much I loved certain things about where I’m from until I’d been gone for years. I didn’t leave because I had to get away from Kentucky. I left because I had to get away from who I was when I was there, you know? Someone lonely and helpless. But how my family was isn’t Kentucky’s fault.”

“No,” Aemond muses. “I suppose not.” You begin walking together back towards the house.

“Ready for more bad news?” Luke asks, and gestures for you and Aemond to peer through the telescope. Aemond lets you go first, and immediately you see what Luke means. There are zombies in the surrounding hills, and not just a few. There are hundreds, stumbling around aimlessly and posing no current threat; but you are not safe here.

“We don’t have enough people to defend ourselves,” Aemond says once he’s taken a look, tapping his chin in that way that he does when he’s fearful but trying to hide it.

“No, we don’t,” Luke agrees.

“And there aren’t many natural resources here to subsist on. Even the fishing prospects aren’t great without a boat or a pier.”

“Right,” Luke says.

You wonder if Aemond is thinking the same thing you are. He might not know what has to happen next, but you do.

~~~~~~~~~~

The dining room table—large enough to seat twenty—is illuminated with candles, meticulously arranged with china and silverware, and cluttered with canned soups from brands you’ve never seen before: Amy’s, Pacific Foods, Health Valley. There are cases of Perrier and San Pellegrino to drink, and bottles of Chateau Lafite Rothschild red wine. Everyone else is here except Aegon. You are just about to go find him when he comes rushing down the staircase and into the dining room. He is wearing clothes from his closet here: a salmon pink polo that emphasizes his sunburn, khaki shorts, a white puka shell necklace, Sperry Bahama sneakers. The left shoe just barely fits over the bandages still protecting his healing left leg. There are fingerprints of white powder on the front of his shirt.

“Oh, look!” he announces. “Isn’t this precious? A family dinner?”

“Aegon, please sit down,” Aemond says briskly.

“Come on, it’ll be just like old times. We have all four of us kids, and then…Rhaena, you can be my dear departed Grandpa Otto, you just have to scowl at everyone…and Luke can be Criston.”

Luke is confused. “What—?”

“No no no! Don’t worry. It’s a very easy part. All you have to do is gaze worshipfully at Aemond and talk about how brilliant he is. There’s really not much to it, and honestly you do a lot of that already. And then…” Aegon floats by you, skimming his palm down the length of your hair. Something about the weight of his hand gives you goosebumps: careless, careful, fleeting, intimate. He sighs: “My beautiful, tortured mother.”

“Aegon, sit down,” Aemond orders.

“Father!” Aegon cries out suddenly, spotting Cregan at the head of the table. Cregan looks around the dining room, baffled. “You’ve joined us! How unusual! Did your Titanic replicas spontaneously combust? Did the world end? Well, actually, it sort of did…”

“Buddy, I have no earthly clue what you’re trying to—”

“Now this is a tough part,” Aegon says forcefully. “Patriarch of the Targaryen dynasty, big shoes to fill! But don’t worry, I’m here to help. I’ll give you your lines. All you have to do is repeat after me, okay?”

Cregan studies him and does not assent.

Aegon slams both palms down onto the table. “You’re so fucking stupid, Aegon. You’re a humiliation, Aegon. Why can’t you be smart like Aemond, or sweet like Helaena, or obedient like Daeron? Why did my firstborn child turn out to be such a fucking waste?”

“I’m not going to say that,” Cregan replies quietly.

“Say it,” Aegon seethes.

Now Daeron is weeping between spoonfuls of Amy’s tortilla soup straight from the can. “I want to go home.”

“We are home,” Aemond says.

“This isn’t home anymore, Aemond,” Daeron sniffles.

Aegon is still trying to feed Cregan lines. “Have you found a wife yet, Aegon? No, of course you haven’t. You’ve got hands like a rat and a disposition to match. You’re an overgrown vermin, you’re a plague to every house you enter. Who would fuck you out of anything but greed or pity?”

“Aegon, please stop,” Aemond pleads, wincing and rubbing his forehead.

Helaena folds her arms atop the table and rests her head on them, hiding her face. Luke and Rhaena keep their eyes downcast. Daeron reaches for a bottle of red wine, but Aegon swats his hand away.

“Nope. Illegal. You’re not 21.”

“Aegon, seriously, I’m so over that joke—”

“Shut up. You can’t even get a tattoo without parental consent.”

“Our parents are dead!” Daeron shouts. “They died terrible deaths and they’re never coming back and you’re making everything worse!”

“Then get rid of me! Put me out on the street and I won’t be anyone’s problem anymore! I’ll get murdered or eaten and it’ll be the best thing that ever happened to you!”

Helaena breaks down sobbing, and before Aegon can register what’s happening Cregan scoops him up off the floor and throws him over one broad shoulder. Then Cregan lugs him upstairs as Aegon struggles and yowls and punches at Cregan’s back, all in vain. You can hear a lot of commotion and then finally Cregan reappears, sweat beading on his brow but otherwise composed.

“I tied him to his bedframe with an extension cord,” Cregan says. “I don’t think he’ll be making any more trouble this evening.”

“Thank you,” Aemond replies, defeated.

“If he’s going to be up there all night, he’ll need water and food,” you say. “And enough blankets to make sure he’s warm.” It gets chilly when the sun goes down here, as low as the 50s. You grab two bottles of Perrier off the table and stand to bring them upstairs to Aegon, but Cregan gently takes them out of your hands.

“I’ll make sure he’s well supplied, Miss Chips,” Cregan insists, and you are convinced he thinks he’s doing you a favor. He doesn’t want Aegon to have the opportunity to upset anybody further. And yet a part of you is undeniably disappointed.

Aegon has been gone for ten minutes, and you miss him already.

~~~~~~~~~~

In Aemond’s childhood bedroom, a huge, impersonal, spartan space, the very few pieces of furniture all in the same color scheme of white and navy blue, you cannot say anything to bring his family back to life, or his friends, or the possibilities of what his life might have been before the dead began to walk. But you remember what he did for you when Rio died and you were sinking in dark, numb despair, and so you take Aemond’s hands and place them on your body—skimming under your t-shirt, circling around your waist—offering yourself like a sacrifice that you both desperately need, like a shot of antivenom that will only buy you hours. He draws you into his lap, and beneath your palms and your lips and your thighs, you can feel him coming back to you, filling up with light like a horizon at dawn.

“I’m still here,” you whisper as he throws you down onto the bed, eases himself into you, carries you away like a ship coasting out into open water. I don’t ever want to be anywhere but here.

Aemond holds you after, ensnared in sweat-damp sheets and entwined fingers, and he confesses: “I knew it was possible that they might not still be alive. Logically, I knew that. But it was like I never allowed myself to feel it. And now it’s…it’s…it’s all at once and it’s too much. I can’t fathom that I’ll never see them again. But I don’t even have time to mourn. I need to figure out where we’re going next.”

“Aemond?”

His lips to your forehead, his voice a drowsy murmur: “Hm?”

“I have to tell Rio’s family what happened to him.”

He pulls back to look at you. “You want to go to Oregon?”

“What if Odessa really is safe?”

At first he is bewildered; then he begins to consider it. “Criston’s Tahoe is in the garage. If we siphon the gas left in all the vehicles, we might have enough to get us halfway there.”

“That’s a lot better than none of the way there.”

“We’ll all have to vote on it. The trip will be dangerous.”

“Everything is now.”

“Almost everything,” he teases, his hand sliding down between your legs, taking you far away again.

~~~~~~~~~~

In the morning, you find Aegon at the cliffside smoking one of his Marlboro Golds, slow meditative drags, eyes bloodshot with lack of sleep. That’s alright. He can nap in the Tahoe. Rhaena won’t need his directions for a while; you’ll stay northbound on Route 1 for 200 miles before cutting inland as you near the Oregon border.

You sit down on the sandy, shrub-strewn ground beside Aegon and wait for him to speak. It takes a while, but you don’t mind. You’ve always had patience; you’ve always been a better listener than someone who fills silences.

At last Aegon says: “I don’t want to be like this anymore.”

“Then stop.”

He smirks bitterly, glaring out into the sunrise, orange light like fire on his sunburned face. “You make reinvention sound so easy.”

“It’s not easy. But it is simple. You decide to get out, and then you do it. You don’t let anything convince you to give up or change course. The only way out is through.”

“I have a proposition.”

“I’m still not interested in fake dating you.”

He cackles. “No, it’s something else.”

“Okay. Let’s hear it.”

Now Aegon is serious. “I don’t ever want to split up again. Not in a year, not in ten years, not in twenty. Never.”

You smile as you watch the reflection of the dawn in his eyes, murky faraway blue like oceans all across the globe. “I didn’t know you thought so highly of commitment.”

“I want to take care of you until you die. I want you to take care of me until I die. And that’s as far as commitment goes with me.”

“Deal.” You offer Aegon your hand.

He shakes it. “Deal.”

Two hours later, Criston Cole’s white Chevy Tahoe is loaded high with supplies—including several of Aegon’s golf clubs and his acoustic guitar—and heading north on Route 1, a Fall Out Boy song from one of Aegon’s mixtapes blaring through the speakers:

“When Rome’s in ruins

We are the lions, free of the Colosseums

In poison places, we are antivenom

We’re the beginning of the end…”

You rest your head on Aemond’s shoulder and wait for the sapphire-and-gold Bay Area to become the misty, primordial emerald green of the Pacific Northwest.

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x you #hotd fanfic #hotd fic

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cottonlemonade · 3 months ago

Text

Alone At The Library

word count: 2342 || avg. reading time: 10 mins.

pairing: rival!Akaashi x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff, rivals to lovers

warnings: implications of financial struggles

request: small pineapple lemonade with extra ice for Akaashi || fluffy accidental confession with rival Akaashi

In desperate need of escaping the academic and social pressure of a top university, Akaashi convinced his parents that it would not be the end of the world if he went to one a little outside of Tokyo instead. It was far less prestigious, of course, and few people had ever heard of it. But in the end, his air-tight argumentation had won them over and he had moved into his dorm in a neighboring prefecture. The university he chose had a surprisingly good literary program with shockingly bad libraries. For months now the main library on campus was under construction with no indication of anyone ever working on it and so the students were forced to fan out to the smaller libraries in the surrounding neighborhoods to find the volumes necessary for their field.

Akaashi stretched his neck and winced when it popped. He would have loved to take the stack of books next to him to the dorms but the small town library he had chosen was so miserably equipped that they couldn‘t afford to let the few academic publications they carried leave the premises. The essay he was pondering over was a lot trickier than he had anticipated and if he didn‘t hand it in by tomorrow he‘d get a failing grade by default. And so, resigning himself to his fate, he shuffled to the lobby to get a paper cup of watery coffee from the old vending machine, ready to make the most of it until closing time.

When he returned to his spot at the long, somehow always mysteriously sticky table he frowned. He could have sworn there was a book missing. Confused and thinking his exhausted mind must be playing tricks on him he looked around but besides the elderly woman at the reception, deeply engrossed in a well-read paperback with a questionable title, there was no one else around. Akaashi bent down to look through his bag, considering he might have absently put it away, and shot back up a moment later when a pair of chubby legs in very familiar, frayed sneakers walked past on the other side, heading towards the opposite end of the table and he heard the unmistakable sound of books being somewhat carelessly dropped onto the surface.

His mood darkened. Pretending you couldn‘t see him, you placed your backpack on the chair next to you and withdrew a tattered notepad, pencil case, and water bottle, reaching for the first book. Once you opened it, he noticed the cover.

You didn‘t even have the decency to look ashamed when he came over. “What do you think you‘re doing?“, he asked.

“What does it look like?“, you replied, your tone pointedly bored as you flipped through the pages.

“I was working with this book.“

“Really? Looked to me like you were done with it.“

“I only went to get a coffee.“, he pressed out through his teeth, “And it lay open next to my paper. How much more in use could it have been?“

“Listen, you have a whooole stack next to you. Why don‘t you use those until I‘m done, hm?“

You had the audacity to give him a very fake bright smile.

He hated that he didn’t immediately have another comeback. Biting the inside of his cheek he thought but ultimately knew there was no point in arguing with you. Any wall would be more susceptible.

“20 minutes.“, he said coldly, “Then you‘ll give it back.“

“Sure thing, pretty boy.“, you said sarcastically, placed the book demonstratively in front of you, and began taking notes. As he walked away you added lazily, “You misspelled “embarrassing“ in your second paragraph. - Ironically.“

As he sat back down, feeling his blood pressure steadily rising in your presence, he felt a pang of annoyance when he saw you were right.

“Time‘s up.“ Exactly 20 minutes later, Akaashi stepped next to you once again. He reached out for the book but you held it tightly, scribbling away. “Just take a picture and work with that.“, he suggested irritably.

“Battery died.“, you only replied without taking your eyes off the paragraph or stopping to write.

For a couple of moments he just stood next to you, hoping to bring you out of context for one, but also maybe come up with a solution for your problems. There was a lot of cross-referencing involved in his paper. Taking pictures would most likely take longer than just looking it all through in his case.

“Maybe we can share it.“, he said eventually.

You looked up and raised a highly doubtful brow.

“I know,“, he suppressed the urge to roll his eyes, “but if we both need it right now that feels like the only way.“

After a moment‘s thought you moved your backpack from the chair to make space for him and continued your work.

He scoffed inwardly. Obviously, you expected him to move to you, but not wanting to risk another argument he gave in and went to collect his things.

It was by no means a perfect solution but at least there was minimal fighting. You were even considerate enough to only hold the page open at a 90 degree angle so he could continue reading on the page he was on, which he conceded was rather civil of you.

The late summer sun was ready to turn in and through the windows offered little support with grayish golden light.

“Okay, you two. It‘s time to pack up for today.“, the elderly woman announced. Instinctively, Akaashi checked his phone for the time. It made sense that the small library closed at 6 but he was so used to the convenience of the business hours of Tokyo’s city center that it caught him off guard nonetheless.

“Just another hour?”, you pleaded from the seat next to him, your voice sweet and genuine. He never heard it like that before.

The elderly woman pursed her lips apologetically, “I’m sorry, dearie. But we open tomorrow at 9, you can come straight back then.”

Akaashi looked down at his unfinished paper. 9 a.m. was his deadline. And judging by your barely legible notes, you were also in a hurry to finish up an assignment. You began putting your things away and looked confused when he grabbed your wrist to stop you.

“Gimme a moment.”, he said and got up.

You watched with rising curiosity how he rounded the corner of the table and began talking with the woman. They were too far away to hear clearly but she laughed and playfully waved him off. He kept on talking for about another thirty seconds before she laughed - no, not laughed. Giggled. Then she rummaged in her purse, produced a set of very jangly keys, and, unclipping one of them, handed it to him. Your jaw dropped when she waved Goodbye to you past his shoulder. With a small satisfied grin, he returned to you and plopped down on the chair, going back to the book as if nothing happened. Evidently, you weren’t gonna let it slide and stared at him until he talked.

“Don’t look at me like that. I just got us VIP access.”, he held up the key, “We can stay as long as we want. Just have to lock up after and leave the key under that clay owl at the entrance.”

“How did you even…?”, you asked, impressed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I just asked nicely, that’s all.”

“Uh huh.”

“You have your ways,”, he pointed to the book you previously swiped from him, “and I have mine.”

“Whatever you say, pretty boy.”

As a child, Akaashi would have done anything to spend a night alone in a manga café. He would have practically glowed at the prospect of squinting for hours at the text bubbles and admiring the details in the panels. Now that he got glasses, the squinting was gone, but his love of reading was still as strong as ever and even though it wasn’t an exciting manga in front of him or a café that kept him fed with ramen and other junk food he still felt a deep sense of joy to spend time alone in a library. Well, almost alone. A loud growling of your tummy ripped him from his nostalgia.

He had completely forgotten about the time. “Maybe we should order some food.”, he said, reaching into his pocket and taking out his wallet to check how much cash he had. He doubted the delivery services this far out all came equipped with card readers. Scrolling through the handful of delivery services in the area, he asked, “What are you in the mood for?”

He was about to lay out your options when you shook your head. From somewhere in your backpack you produced a slightly squished onigiri. It was from a convenience store with a bright red sticker announcing that it had been on sale due to the close expiration date. His eyes fell onto your notepad once again, densely covered in scribbles, not wasting a single centimeter of space. The scratches and dents in your metal pencil case suggested that it had been with you for a long time. He tried to remember ever seeing you during the many social events the university offered. But whenever the class suggested going out for dinner you made excuses of studying or having to part-time. He knew you were a scholarship student but he just figured it was because of your excellent grades since you two usually fought for the top score of the year, not for a lack of money.

Akaashi looked down at his wallet again.

“I can just pay for both of us, no problem.”, he offered and was shocked when that earned him a dagger-filled glare.

“No thank you.”, you said sharply and bit into the rice ball.

He shrugged. “Fine. Suit yourself.” After ordering a large pizza for himself, he put his phone away again, going back to working silently by your side. The book that had started the alliance was pushed out of the way at this point and you were each going through separate materials.

About half an hour passed before his phone buzzed, letting him know the pizza was waiting out front and when he returned the tempting smell of cheese and freshly baked bread filled the air. With a slice, heavily laden with different toppings, in one hand, Akaashi went back to checking the notes he had taken since his arrival, sifting out the truly important and highlighting the ones he wanted to add to his paper. Your stomach grumbled again and your hand automatically went to cover it. He pretended not to notice it, but a grin slowly formed on his lips with each new noise coming from you. He heard you swallow quietly and caught you glancing at the pizza every so often. He took his second piece, adding a little hum of culinary delight to the mix.

Once a third of the pizza was gone and you still hadn‘t said anything he was beginning to worry his idea hadn‘t worked, so he swerved to plan B. Leaning back in his chair he patted his stomach, a small bump indicating he was stuffed. “Hey, can you do me a favor?“

“When have I ever been known to do that?“

Akaashi ignored your comment.

“I think I was being too greedy. There is no way I can finish this thing on my own.“

With a sidelong look at him, you raised a brow. “I‘m not a child. I know what you‘re doing.“

“And what is it that I‘m doing?“, he asked, innocently but with a definite challenge to his voice.

You were about to call out his obvious scheme when you wondered if it wouldn‘t sound too egotistical to say that he wanted to share from the beginning. What if he really only miscalculated his hunger? And letting a fresh (and free) pizza go to waste was basically a crime.

Wordlessly, you reached past him and pulled the box over so it was sitting between you. The first bite was heaven and you chewed carefully to savor the taste. Very satisfied with himself, Akaashi began adding his notes to his paper. Whilst nibbling at the crust you slid a book to him.

You tapped a paragraph near the bottom of the page. “Here, this is your topic, right?“

He quickly skimmed it and nodded. The title of the book didn‘t suggest that it had anything to do with his research.

“It seemed promising, maybe it can give your paper that last little bit of extra.”

He wanted to thank you out of reflex but instead said with a teasing tone, "What, you like me now?"

“I tolerate you.“, you said loftily, taking a second slice.

Akaashi mimicked you under his breath, of course still loud enough for you to hear, “I tolerate you.“

You both laughed.

“Can I ask you something?“

You nodded and took another bite.

“Why do you hate me?“

“I don‘t hate you.“, you said without wasting a single breath.

“Huh, you sure about that?“, he chuckled.

“Kinda. Like… 80% sure, I‘d say.“

“And what are the other 20%?“

Choosing to focus on the pizza, you shrugged.

“I‘d dislike anyone who is smart, handsome and kind.“

“You think I‘m handsome?“, he asked immediately, making you clear your throat and look away. He was having a great time.

“Oh, don‘t pretend you don‘t know you‘re dreamy.“, you said with playful annoyance, “Why do you think I call you pretty boy?“

“Is that so?“

With your cheeks turning very red very quickly you took a new book from your stack and opened it to a random page. Picking up your pen, you began taking notes again.

He watched you for a bit, impressed by your dedication, then asked, “Interesting book?“

“Uh huh.“

Akaashi reached for it and turned it around.

“Then I bet it‘s gonna be even better now that it‘s right side up.“

art: @ui536

a/n: thank you so much for your request and I apologize that it's taking me 6-8 business weeks to reply to requests by now. I hope you enjoyed it @toomanygoldfish

And a special thank you to @haikyu-mp4 for listening to me rant about this piece for way too long.

#sunnys lemonade stand #akaashi keiji x chubby reader #akaashi x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #chubby reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #hq fluff #haikyuu x curvy reader #akaashi keji x reader #akaashi fluff #hq akaashi #akaashi x reader #haikyuu akaashi #akaashi keiji #akaashi x you #akaashi x y/n

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followthebluebell · 5 months ago

Note

would love a list of low energy enrichment activities to try with cats. im always looking for more ways to be involved with my cat but she is 3 and very high energy and after a long day i often dont have the spoons to chase her around with a toy while she finds new exciting hiding spots to look at it from. this makes me sad :( i dont want her to be understimulated

Food-based enrichment:

Feeder toys are a favorite! But these carry the drawback of requiring cleaning afterwards, so calculate that into your spoons. Some of them are machine washable, so that may be an option if you've got a dishwasher.

Snuffle mats - another favorite, these also require the occasional clean but don't need to be cleaned every time you use them. You can make your own pretty easily. Or, hell, just grab a very cheap bath mat from a dollar store. Your cat won't know the difference.

Scatter feeding - literally just. Throw a handful of treats or kibble on the floor or down the stairs. Literally, that's it. Calculate clean-up into your spoons because cats aren't reliable vacuums. But it keeps them busy for a few minutes.

Toy based enrichment:

Get a cardboard box. Crinkle up some brown wrapping paper or whatever cheap paper you've got on hand and put it in the box. Congrats, you've now combined your cats two favorite things in the world: boxes and paper. For extra fun, add catnip (or silvervine or whatever your cat's drug of choice is), toys, or treats.

Ripple Rug: this is actually a specific product. It's literally a square of carpet or rug with velcro on the bottom that attaches to ANOTHER square of carpet or rug. It's fairly stiff. The idea is that cats can dive into it and make their own little tunnels. My cats LOVE it. You can probably recreate it quite cheaply using cheap rugs or carpet, tbh.

Cat crinkle mats: again, this is something fairly easily made at home. You get some cheap crinkly plastic and sew it into two old washclothes or something similar. Congrats. You now have a little mat your cats can sit on, bat around, and crinkle. You can also just buy them in multiple sizes. Many have catnip in them too.

Paper bags: cats just love paper bags. Be sure you remove the handles to make sure no one gets their head stuck. Most cats entertain themselves pretty well with bags.

Cat springs: those little plastic springs are a favorite, and so are those cheap rabbit-fur covered mouse toys.

Cat race track toys: another favorite.

Cardboard cat scratchers: the cardboard ones require MORE cleaning because they leave little bits of cardboard all over the place, but it is kind of nice that you can just throw them out when your cat is done. Any scratcher is good, though. I've listed cardboard for ease of clean-up and because it's a very popular material for cats.

Cat tunnels: like bags and boxes, cats just love tunnels.

I'm not a big fan of laser pointers or robotic toys. I haven't seen many cases of light chasing disorders in cats compared to dogs, but it's an issue enough that I don't readily recommend them. I also don't really recommend robotic toys because a lot of them make noises that cats don't like. If your cat enjoys these things, congrats; I just don't find them universally popular enough to really recommend. But I had to mention them, because if I didn't, my notes would be full of 'but what about Product X!!".

I've tried to keep this list to low cost toys and activities. There are other things you can do, like installing wall shelves or getting a big cat tree, but these things are more likely to be expensive, either in terms of money, time, or energy. I wanted to focus on low cost activities that I felt were more accessible to disabled folks.

#enrichment #low spoon enrichment #i'm not really sure how to tag this pls give me suggestions so it's easy for people to find

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ghostybaby000 · 5 months ago

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Never too tired | Part 1

Part 2

Pairing: Simon Ghost Riley x reader

Sumary: Simon was tired, there was no denying it. He had been gone for five days hardly sleeping any of them, so when he returned you fully understood that he wanted to get inside and get to bed, that is until you feel he has other plans.

Word count: 1.2k

Warnings: 18+, flirting, smut, fluff, cursing

Tag List: @yyiikes @talooolaaloolla @cumsluut @sofiacoppolaslut @blackbeautyiloveyouso

You were putting dishes away in the kitchen when you heard his car outside, and your heart soared. You had always missed him no matter how long he was gone, not to mention the relief of him coming home in general. You put away the glass you had been holding and speed over to the door, pressing your ear to it-the car door shut outside.

You unlock the door and open in just as Simon reaches the front porch, the night air brushing your cheek. A smile comes over his face as he begins to lower his bags and open his arms for a hug. You can see how tired he is as you get closer, bringing you in a gentle hug between the two of you.

‘Hello dove.’ Simon gives a small squeeze in your hug, the strength of his chest and arms around you making you feel whole again. You can feel how tense he is after it being days of what was probably no sleep or relaxation, and you force yourself to pull away, taking a moment to look up to him before making your way back to the door.

He picked up his bags and made his way inside, the smile on his face holding strong as he made his way up to the bedroom. You quickly locked the front door and turned off the lights in the kitchen and living room, you wanted to get to bed as well. You heard the shower turn on as you made your way upstairs into the bedroom, Simons things were still packed away in his bag as per usual. You took his massive bag in your hands and tried to carry it out of the room with little luck. You were shorter than Simon and far weaker, but you were determined to help him unpack and relax in any way possible.

You dragged the bag to the edge of the stairs and one by one slowly pulled it down until you reached the bottom. After a few breaths and mental preparation, you tried once again to haul the bag up and into your arms, this time with success. The bag blocked your view while walking, the darkness not helping but you knew this house well, and found your way to the laundry room where it took even greater strength to not let the bag crash to the ground while lowering it.

You began to quickly unload his things into the washing machine, and organizing his items that he kept in the bag for hygiene and emergencies. You pause when you see a sliver of what looked like paper coming out of a hidden pocket in the bag. You feel your chest tighten as you reach for the paper and find it to be thick. Turning it over relief floods your brain as you see it’s a picture of you, you can’t fight the smile that comes over your face. With the laundry started, you take the now far lighter bag back upstairs and put away the last bit of his things, ensuring your picture was safely tucked away.

Just as you were getting into bed, Simon makes his way out of the bathroom in a towel. You had missed him being with you around the house and talking with you, but you also missed having him in bed. His hair still wet, he makes his way over to the dresser and pulls out a pair of boxers, going back into the bathroom to finish his routine. You waited in bed, eventually reading a book as he made his way out of the bathroom again, this time coming to join you in bed.

You felt yourself becoming more excited by the moment, getting to sleep next to him again being a large portion of it, the other excitement you would push away for now. As Simon turned off the lights and laid down fully, his eyes shutting almost immediately, you cozy yourself up next to his arm as your hand rubs over his chest. He opens his eyes and sits up ever so slightly to kiss you, one of his hands cupping the back of your neck.

You feel the heat between you gently simmering as a small flame, as he kisses your harder now, you couldn’t help but push into him as well. A small groan escapes his throat as he pulls away from you to stare into your eyes. You could make out most of his face from the light that was coming through the windows as moonlight.

‘I missed you, every day. Thank you for unpacking for me.’ His gruff voice filled your ears as if they had been deprived for months instead of days.

His stare was more intense now as he took in the moment of the dim room to look over your features, his hand caressing your cheek. You put your own hand over his and nuzzled your face into his rough palm, looking back to him you respond in almost a whisper.

‘Of course. I missed you too Simon.’ Smiles were plastered over both of your faces as Simon resumed his comfortable position, his eyes shutting. You could feel yourself yearning for more of him, and there was no doubt that he wanted you just as badly, that you knew. You knew also though, that he was exhausted and that there would be more time to have fun later on.

He would never deny you if you had asked, and you certainly wanted it, the warm feeling in your stomach agreeing with the thought. Instead, you allowed yourself to look over him as you made yourself comfortable as well, taking note of his chest and shoulders, all that was visible thanks to the blankets. You felt tiredness begin to take over, so you leant your head on Simon’s shoulder and allowed yourself to drift to sleep.

You figured it had only been a few hours or so when you were awoken by Simons touch. In your sleep you had turned away from him and his hand was flowing up and down your legs. You sit up to see Simon still on his back, his eyes shut and the rest of him unmoved. Your eyes drift down his body to see his bulge under the covers and have to resist to not do anything about it.

You shake the thought from your head as you move to lay back down, only to find Simon staring up at you. Without words his hand made its way up your back and around to under your shirt, where he grabbed at your breasts.

You were finding it almost impossible to not lean into his touch and ask for more. Instead you moved forward and placed a kiss on his forehead, and rested on his chest. You didn’t want to push him tonight and knew that he needed the sleep, his heartbeat entrancing you back into relaxation.

Again his hands traveled over your body, making their way over your hips and up your shoulders, then down to your legs, and in between. You inhale sharply as his hand rested over your now sensitive clit and settled. The warmth in your stomach a clear indicator that you wanted more of him, and you couldn’t help yourself. Ever so slightly you pushed your hips further into his hand, you missed his touch more than you knew.

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mindfulstudyquest · 8 months ago

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❥﹒♡﹒☕﹒ 𝗺𝘆 𝘂𝗻𝗶 𝗯𝗮𝗴 𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗮𝗹𝘀

𝟭. my notepad ( 📱 )

i take very messy notes, especially when the professor speaks fast and i have to write in a hurry. many note-taking apps allow you to record the teacher's voice, so you can listen back to the lesson when you reorganize your notes at home. the notepad allows me to write pages and pages without wasting paper.

𝟮. charger ( 🔌 )

i often spend 9 or 10 hours at university and i can't risk one of my devices running out of battery. with a charger always in my bag i never risk finding myself unable to use my phone or notepad.

𝟯. water bottle ( 🍶 )

it is important to stay hydrated during the day, especially if you spend a lot of time at university. i recommend always having a two-liter water bottle available, especially during long lessons that require concentration.

𝟰. snacks/lunch ( 🍲 )

preparing healthy meals for lunch improves not only your health, but also your productivity and concentration during lessons. having snacks high in phosphorus and magnesium to consume throughout the day will prevent you from consuming junk food from vending machines. ( + don't forget chewing gums !! )

𝟱. hygiene bag ( 🌷 )

i'll make a specific post for this.

𝟲. umbrella ( ☂️ )

i admit i'm terrible at this because I always forget my umbrella. i'm lucky enough to live near the university, so i walk there, but it becomes a real problem when it starts raining and i have to run home in the rain. so always carry a small pocket umbrella in your bag, i suggest it from experience.

𝟳. books ( 📚 )

it may seem strange but i don't use books at university. many of the lessons in architecture are practical and we do not follow specific textbooks for the theoretical lessons (the professors prefer to provide us with materials and use powerpoints), but it depends on the faculty you attend, your study method and the teaching method of your professor.

any interaction with the post will be appreciated !! ♡

#school #note taking #college #studyinspo #academia #education #university #study tips #study inspiration #study notes #study motivation #student #study aesthetic #study blog #studyblr #studyspo #totebag #what's in my bag #uni bag essentials

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toxicanonymity · 9 months ago

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Ethyl's house

500 words, night walks AU - neighbor Ethyl

One afternoon, Joel was outside getting the mail when Ethyl got home. He saw her Oldsmobile crawling into the cul-de-sac with her hands at ten and two. She was hunched forward with her big glasses above the steering wheel as she pulled into her driveway. Joel lingered at his mailbox. For a moment, he wondered how well she could see the pool from her house, but she likely went to bed before sundown.

After she parked, she got out of the car, hung her purse on her inner elbow, and popped the trunk. Joel put the mail back in his mailbox and walked over to her driveway. In the trunk there were two paper grocery sacks, and she was taking apples out of one to make it light enough to carry. She didn't mind making multiple trips. She would do it with a smile.

“How ‘bout a hand with those,” Joel offered behind her.

She marveled at his strength as he repacked the bag and picked both of them up.

She shuffled in front of him, holding her purse under her arm in one hand and her keys out in front of herself in the other. She unlocked and held open the carport door to her house.

An older chihuahua whined from the den before standing up from its little bed, stretching with its tail up, then shaking his head, jingling the collar.

“That's Barney,” Ethyl informed Joel.

She turned on her small oven, and and took a pan of cookie dough out of her modest fridge while Joel unpacked the groceries. The oven handle was almost as high as she was tall.

Her home was neat and simple with lots of cross stitch and knitted blankets. She gave him the full tour, with Barney silently sniffing behind them, wagging his tail. The smell of chocolate chip cookies began to fill the air as she sat Joel down on the sofa and showed off family photos. There were photos of her and her late husband traveling the world. They didn't have kids. There were photos of her sisters, her niece, and her great nephews.

When the oven timer went off, she shuffled back into the kitchen. She gave Joel a plate full of cookies and a 1970s juice glass of whole milk, but she didn't partake. She smiled while Joel enjoyed them.

“Oh,” she raised a knobby finger. “Let me send some with you.” She brought back a tupperware and told him he better save some for you.

Joel raised his eyebrows with a silent smile. She smiled and covered her mouth, oops. Then croaked, “I'm not trying to be a busy body, Joel.”

She reached for his hand, and he patiently waited for a but. Her hand was cold on top of his.

“But if you've got something special, treat it special.”

He swallowed and looked down.

“And hang onto it as long as you can.”

She squeezed his hand, and he nodded silently.

-----

thank you for reading!

tag list because this is night walks canon

@silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @taeslarityy @str84pedro @lokanda @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @pedropascal-whore @spideysimpossiblegirl @feministfanboi @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @switchbladedreamz @within-the-depths @may-machin @sloanexx @paleidiot @yourmistysecret @bean-is-reading @rainstorms-library @am-3-thyst

#joel miller fluff #joel miller x reader #night walks!joel #toxicanonymity ☠️#night walks!ethyl #night walks!pr tour

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thisapplepielife · 4 months ago

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Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Rough and Rowdy Ways

One more dingy room, one more motel that's just a little more rundown than the last. It's been a long few years on the road, each one getting harder and harder. They have upswings, and downswings, and right now, they're definitely down. Playing smaller venues in the middle of fucking nowhere, more often than not.

They aren't famous, more infamous than anything, because there's been a few incidents over the years that have put them in the papers for less than flattering reasons.

Damages, lawsuits.

Rough and rowdy.

Assholes.

That's the name they've made for themselves. Gareth is still on probation from the last hotel trashing, and that was the straw that broke the camel's back, making all the major chains put the kibosh on them staying anywhere decent for the near future.

Most of them have their pictures hanging up, like they're outlaws.

Eddie sees an old, falling apart neon sign with an arrow promising a motel. He's not sure it'll still be there. It's a toss-up, for sure, as shitty as that sign looks.

But when they see the gravel turn-off, there is a solitary car sitting in the parking lot. Something that looks too nice, too expensive, for a place like this.

But, they'll have to try their luck and see if they can slide under the radar, pay cash, give fake names, and go unnoticed. Move on down the road tomorrow.

There's a guy sitting behind the desk, and he looks out of place in this shitty, unkempt place. He's very kempt. The most kempt person Eddie's seen in days.

Gareth immediately rings the bell, and Eddie wants to throttle him. That's never a good way to make a first impression. And they are the ones needing something here.

"One room, please," Gareth says.

The guy looks them up and down, and then shrugs. Pulling two sets of keys off a peg behind the desk.

He has pretty eyes. Very pretty eyes, pretty everything, really.

"Twenty dollars. Room four," he offers, like he doesn't give a shit if they burn the place down. Maybe he doesn't care. "Name?"

"Edward Jones," Gareth says, mashing their names together.

"Sure you are," the guy says, and they both look at each other, "just sign here."

"What's that mean?" Gareth asks.

"Edward D. Jones? The financial advisors?"

It's not ringing a bell. They carry their money in a duffle bag. They definitely don't have any advisors.

"Coincidence," Gareth says, and Eddie thinks it might actually be, because he's not sure Gareth would know that either.

"Checkout is at noon," he says, and then picks back up the book he was reading.

Transaction over.

Eddie paces the room, and the rest of them are getting annoyed. Goodie has already kicked him twice as he's walked by, and Gareth is sassing him.

Just. That guy. Steve, his name tag said, but that might have been as fake as Edward Jones.

"I'm gonna go get ice," Eddie declares, and the rest of them all seem to sigh in relief that he and his nervous energy are leaving the room.

Eddie carries the cheap plastic ice bucket up to the counter, "Steve?"

Steve looks up, so maybe that is his real name.

"Where's the ice machine?"

"It's broken," Steve answers.

"Oh. Damn," Eddie says, leaning up on the counter, trying to encroach on his personal space, just a little. Steve doesn't back up, not an inch, which is impressive. This usually works to make people uncomfortable. "I really need some ice. It's so hot."

Steve is looking at him, straight in the eyes, "Is that so?"

Eddie smiles, and isn't sure what he expects might happen, but he'll shoot his shot. There's no harm in it, he'll never see this guy again, come tomorrow.

"I have an ice machine in the back, if you want me to get you some. It's not really for the guests."

"Well, I appreciate that. I won't tell any of the other guests," Eddie says, a little sarcastic, because he's pretty sure nobody else is here.

Steve rolls his eyes, and grabs the brown bucket, pulling it across the counter and disappears through the open door behind him.

Eddie follows.

He's pretty sure he's not supposed to, but Steve didn't tell him to wait at the counter.

Steve lifts the lid and grabs the metal scoop, filling the bucket. When he turns, he catches sight of Eddie and the bucket goes flying, ice spilling all over the floor.

"Oh shit, I'm sorry!" Eddie says, holding his hands up, just realizing that he may look threatening. He forgets that sometimes. "I'm not, I won't. Fuck. I'm sorry."

And then Steve laughs, a nervous giggle that makes Eddie smile, "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I wasn't thinking. I'm a musician. Eddie."

"Jones?"

Eddie laughs, "Munson. That's my best friend, Gareth Jones. A coincidence, I think."

And Steve smiles, just a little, "Okay, just. This place brings in the freaks and weirdos," Steve says.

And Eddie points at himself, eyebrows raised.

"Little bit," Steve teases, and Eddie grins.

"Let me help you pick up the ice," Eddie offers, getting down on his hands and knees, swiping it all towards himself. Then Steve is standing over him with a broom.

"This might be more efficient," Steve says, sarcastically and Eddie laughs as Steve sweeps up the mess.

Eddie's palms are black from the floor. And somehow it's not the dirtiest place they've ever stayed.

"Is there a sink?" Eddie asks, showing Steve his palms, and Steve nods towards the little bathroom off the breakroom.

There are personal items all over the sink, and a small, corner shower. Does Steve live here? Eddie suspects someone does, if it isn't him.

Steve is leaning in the open doorway, watching him, but in a curious way, not in a suspicious way, Eddie thinks. Which is good. Great.

"Do you live here?" Eddie asks.

"Unfortunately," Steve says, smirking.

"Wanna run away and be a roadie?"

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

#corrodedcoffinfest #prompt twenty-two: au #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie au #goodie (unnamed freak) stranger things #gareth stranger things #freak stranger things #corroded coffin fic #ccf day twenty-two: au #thisapplepielife: corrodedcoffinfest #thisapplepielife: short fic

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megumimania · 10 months ago

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TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES - ryomen sukuna

summary: your boyfriend hates modern technology.

warnings: sukuna x fem reader, sukuna is an old hag (affectionately), sukuna not fucking with consumerism is he in his marxist era?🤔, sukuna is a softie when he wants to be, sukuna is ooc because i hate writing mean men :), yuji being a hottie is my fav hc of all time, i can’t believe im giving amazon free promo 😞.

notes: i missed you guys!

sukuna cant wrap his head around technology.

he doesn’t understand why companies sell ‘new’ phones every single year, when they perform the same exact functions as the previous one.

he doesn’t like how your coffee machine has too many buttons when all he wants in the morning is just a cup of black coffee to get him through the day. sukuna just prefers doing things the old fashioned way which makes him subject to teasing by you and his little brother yuuji.

he doesn’t care though, constantly talking about how he’s ‘escaped the matrix’ by not owning an up to date phone and only getting his news from the daily paper and tv. however his view on technology changed once you brought alexa home.

initially he thought that it was a speaker and was confused to why you bought another one. “it’s not just a speaker ryo,” you corrected him swiftly. “she’s a digital assistant that can tell you the time, the weather, recipes and she can even tell jokes.”

sukuna looked at you with the same wariness he’d give to a snake oil salesman. “can’t your phone do the same exact thing for less?” you knew he was lowkey right but your stubbornness refused to let him get the upper hand.

“that’s not the point babe.” you playfully rolled your eyes at him, carrying the box to the kitchen counter and setting it down with a loud thump. “now if you’ll excuse me i’ll be busy setting my alexa up.” you huffed as you opened the instructions trying to make sense of them.

sukuna looked over at your focused expression. your brow furrowed with concentration as you read the instructions. it was simple really and within a couple of minutes the alexa was ready to go and by the joyous look of pride on your face sukuna knew that he was going to be in for one hell of a ride.

and unfortunately he was right.

life with an alexa was hell. sukuna barely got through the day without hearing the monotone female voice rattle off the hottest food spots or tell you a stupid joke that was suddenly the most funniest thing alive. he used to make you laugh like that!

he felt like the speaker was taunting him. hell he couldn’t even have some down time with you without that stupid speaker getting in the way. it was literally like he was third wheeling all the time and he hated it. you were his girlfriend first!

sukuna didn’t like being second best. especially to a glorified speaker.

you and sukuna were cuddling on the couch together after finishing a movie—terminator 2 to be exact. “so what do you think of the alexa?” you asked whilst the credits rolled, mindlessly stroking his cheek with your acrylic nails whilst he rubbed your legs.

sukuna tensed at the question as he tried to think of a way to answer without sounding like a complete asshole. “well…im not really a fan.” you could already tell from the dry tone and his poor attempt of acting unfazed that he was lying through his teeth.

“if that’s the case then why did i find it in the bathtub?” you pulled up the waterlogged alexa in a ziploc bag. sukuna would usually have a sarcastic reply in his arsenal but he was now looking at you as if he was a deer caught in headlights.

“fine, i used the damned thing.” he raised his hands up as he accepted defeat much to your surprise. “it fell into the bathtub when i was trying to stream that megan the stallion song yuuji told me to listen to. he said something about the song needing to go number 1 on the charts.”

you sat back in disbelief. you didn’t know whether to be annoyed, angry or smitten with him. “i’m glad yuji is helping you become more cultured but why did my alexa have to die for such a good cause!” you wailed dramatically collapsing on the floor, clutching the alexa to your chest.

sukuna lifted you off the floor with such ease it almost made you jealous. “stop whining i already ordered another one. it should be coming in a few days.” he said with his usual gruff tone that was laced with softness, peppering kisses down your neck.

you giggled as his stubble tickled your skin. “that was quick, you missed it that much already?” you teased him whilst you hooked your arms around him running your nails down the nape of his neck.

sukuna rolled his eyes at your playful expression. “i’m still anti technology, don’t be fooled.” one thing sukuna was to his core was a hater but like most haters he rarely stood on business.

“whatever you say babe.” you hummed biting back a smile. you and sukuna knew give or take two months that he’d change his opinion about it.

#vina writes: jjk #vina writes #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x female reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #ryomen x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk fanfic #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen fluff #sukuna x black reader #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #sukuna #jjk sukuna

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babymetaldoll · 2 months ago

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Are you mine? - Chapter seven: "Here's our chance to make it (make it into something more)"

Summary: Spencer is having issues dealing with Gideon's death, and maybe a close to dead situation is what he needs to come back from his sadness. Raven's first birthday is here! Warnings: Cursing, rotten fluff and some smut. Dom!reader sub!Spencer for the first time in this story. Word count: 8.305 words A/N: We needed something lighter after the last chapter. I hope you enjoy it!

Series' Masterlist - Author's masterlist

Previous chapter | Next chapter

(Y/N)'s point of view

There is something Spencer and I have always had trouble with. Dealing with feelings. No surprise it took us over five years to confess our love, or why he hid the fact he had gotten Dilaulid from me after Prentiss died. We have worked on it, year after year, knowing it's our weakness. And we've gotten way better at dealing with our emotions. But when Gideon died, I knew Spencer would be more vulnerable.

I just never imagined he would isolate us so much. 'Till the point where he didn't come home one night. He told me he wanted to review some data for a paper he was working on, and that he would be home around nine. But after ten, he was still nowhere to be found, not answering my texts.

- "Ragazza, I'm sorry to call you so late."- Rossi's voice nearly gave me a heart attack as I picked up the phone, thinking it was Spencer. - "I just thought I'd let you know your husband is still at the BAU, sitting at his desk, staring at a chessboard."

- "Thank you, papa Pasta. Did he say anything?"

- "He tried to convince me he was coming home, but I'm pretty sure the coffee machine was on."- I sighed and closed my eyes, exhausted and terrified at the same time. - "I'm guessing he hasn't processed Gideon's death that well."

- "We've talked about it, but this is harder for him than I can begin to understand. Gideon was like a father to him, more than his own. He was his hero."- I whispered and looked at Raven, asleep in her crib.

- "The kid still has trouble dealing with his emotions, but I'm sure he will be ok soon."

- "Thank you for calling, Rossi."

I drove all the way back to the BAU with my daughter asleep in the backseat. I know I said I was going to let Spencer grieve and go through his process, but I wasn't going to let him alone. Never.

Rossi was right. There he was, sitting at his desk, sipping a cup of coffee, staring at a chessboard. My heart ached to think he was suffering. I walked slowly and tried not to scare him as I stood next to him, and his eyes found me. He felt busted and not a single word came from his lips. So I just smiled at him, carrying our asleep baby in my arms.

- "I brought you dinner"- I whispered and showed him a paper bag. - "Pasta carbonara."

- "Thank you, ma cherie. But I was almost on my way back home."- he lied, probably to calm me down. I just shook my head and fondled his cheek with my hand after I left the food on his desk.

- "It's ok if you have to stay here for another while. I just wanted to make sure you ate something that's not from the vending machine."

Spencer didn't say a word. He stared at me with watered-up eyes and sighed. His hand caressed mine as I kept it on his cheek, and then rubbed Raven's back.

- "I'm... sorry, ma cherié, I didn't mean to worry you."

- "It's ok, Batsy. I just want you to be ok."

- "I will be, I promise."

- "I know."- I leaned over and kissed his forehead as he closed his eyes and sighed.

- "Come on, chipmunk. Let's go home."

- "Are you sure?"

- "Yeah."

I don't know why I thought that'd be enough to bring my husband back to reality with us. But, of course, he still needed more time to finish grieving on his own. Unfortunately, we didn't have much time for him to go through his process at his own pace, because we were a week away from Raven's first birthday and we had a huge party planned. The team was invited, along with Frank, Mikey, Lu, our families, and even Diana was coming from Las Vegas. And I needed my husband to help me prepare everything.

But I wasn't going to push him, I knew that would only make things worse.

The following morning we were called in earlier 'cos there had been a bomb explosion at a coffee house in Indianapolis. Six dead and sixteen wounded. No one had claimed responsibility, but police were sure it was related to a bomb going off at a local school a week earlier. The first thought we all shared was domestic terrorism, along with religious groups. Hotch was worried, so he pushed the plane to be ready earlier and planned to get to Indianapolis in two hours.

On the jet, we reviewed what we knew. It wasn't much, except for the fact the unsub was escalating fast.

- "This is interesting."- Kate pointed out as we all read our case files - "The maintenance worker killed at the school was working late installing a new circuit panel. He wasn't supposed to be there."

- "It's weird how the word Interesting can only mean "this shit is getting worst" when we are at work." - I whispered to my husband, trying to make him smile. And he did chuckle, which was a big achievement, considering he hadn't slept more than an hour the night before, and he had spent the entire night sitting in the living room, staring at a chess board. He totally denied it, but he wasn't fooling me.

- "Reid."- Hotch said, looking at me, but my husband raised his eyes from the paper and started rambling, just on cue.

- "So the unsub may not have intended to kill anyone. And if he canvassed the site beforehand, he would have anticipated the school being empty."

- "Exactly."- Kate whispered as she nodded at Spencer, as JJ continued talking.

- "But with the coffee house, he struck first thing in the morning, when it would be packed."

- "Maximizing collateral damage."- Morgan added, staring at a blank space as he spoke.

- "That doesn't sound good. This unsub is getting too comfortable and cooky way too fast."- I spoke my mind and noticed Rossi nodded at me, so he was probably thinking the same.

- "Successful bombs always have a practice run. Maybe the school was his."- Aaron analyzed as he went through his file case again.

- "But what's his endgame? Most bombers like the attention they get from playing God. They don't go dormant, they strike again."- Morgan pointed out the fact none of us liked about bombers: they don't stop fast enough, not like the other serial killers.

- "Let go with the facts."- I said and looked at the team - "No one's claimed responsibility for either attack. That could point away from a fundamentalist or a fear-driven offender."

- "Maybe it's personal."- JJ suggested.

- "I don't wanna be the one who pissed this guy off."- I added and closed my file.

- "We'll rely on divide and conquer."- Hotch pointed out our course of action. - "Victims, witnesses, and ballistics. See if we can find a pattern so we can prevent a third attack."

I was glad I was paired with my husband that day. Sadly, Hotch sent us to the hospital, to talk with the victims and any potential witnesses. It wasn't any better when a poor injured man told Spencer he was looking for his father. It seemed like life kept slapping him with random situations that could remind him of Gideon, and his loss.

I held his hand as we walked down the hall. Totally unprofessional, I know, but at that point in our relationship I really didn't care if our Unit Chief or anyone had anything to say to that behavior. I wasn't going to stop supporting my husband just because the FBI PDA said so. And less considering our current situation.

- "Reids."- Hotch called us as he walked toward us.

- "He can't find his father."- Spencer started explaining as if he had to excuse himself for talking to people when that was in fact what we were supposed to do.

- "There are a number of people still in surgery."- Hotch replied, trying to calm Spencer down, considering the circumstances.

- "And police are trying to talk to some of the witnesses as well."- I added and took a look around. There were so many injured, they were being kept in the halls of the hospital, 'cos they had run out of room in the ER.

- "Maybe we should consider cognitive interviews." - Spencer suggested, but it was too rushed and I guess he knew it too, but he just wanted to help people.

- "Witness accounts are varied, which is to be expected. When people are more emotionally ready, it'll be a good idea."- Hotch replied and Spencer took another look around, clearly looking for someone.

- "Who are you looking for?"- I asked and caressed his fingers with my thumb.

- "Have you seen the pregnant woman anywhere?"- Spencer seemed worried.

- "Yeah, she's still in the delivery room."- Hotch replied, not even blinking.

- "We should talk to the guy who rescued her."- Spencer suggested and I nodded.

- "Definitely, he may have seen something the others didn't."

- "Allen Archer. He's been treated and released."- Hotch informed us and we nodded. Of course, he already had it all covered.- "JJ and Kate are on their way to his house now. Are you guys gonna be ok on your way to the station? I need to see the M.E."

- "We are fine."- I assured our boss and he just nodded mumbling "Thanks." and walked out of the hospital. I looked at Spencer rushing to the closest nurse and asked about the injured father, but he hadn't made it, and they were about to give him the news. Spencer didn't need to see that, so I held his hand and tried to walk him down the aisle to another room. But he didn't move. He stared from a distance at that man receiving the news his father had died.

- "Come on, Spencer. Let's go."

Spencer's point of view

Dealing with depressing episodes in my life wasn't really something new. And yet I still didn't know what I was doing. You might think I could have some experience, but yet, I couldn't handle my emotions correctly. I knew I was keeping everything inside so as not to hurt my wife and kid, and that by doing that, there was a chance I could be hurting them anyway. I tried to do my work the best way possible, but watching people losing their family, especially that man crying over his dead father, was a slap on the face that brought back all the feelings I didn't know how to deal with.

Rossi tried to talk to me about how I felt. I told him I was just tired and dealing with everything. I even told him a little about all the plans we had for Raven's first birthday, to ease the mood. Maybe I had to focus on those facts as well and start moving on from grief.

- "We got a 911 call!"- Hotch opened the door, suddenly- "I want you and Morgan with Allen Archer. Someone put a bomb in his car. Now!"

All the way to the Archer's, all I could think of was (Y/N)'s goodbye kiss when we left the station. I was glad Morgan had a specialization in explosives because I didn't know what could happen if the bomb squad didn't make it on time to the scene. We literally jumped out of the car as we got there, and tried to move Mrs. Archer and her baby girl as far from the explosive as possible, and then, we analyzed our chances.

- "How the hell did we beat the bomb squad here?"- Morgan was upset, and most of all, he was nervous about the outcome of our situation.

- "I could give you statistics, but I don't think this is the time."- I tried to joke to ease the mood, but Morgan didn't react. - "Are we really gonna do this?"- I asked and he just nodded, looking around in case the bomb squad was in sight. They weren't.

- "Turn your cell phone off."- Morgan commanded and started walking toward the car

- "(Y/N) is gonna kill me."- I whispered to myself.

- "Whipped."- Morgan replied immediately and smiled. He would never miss the chance to tease me, that's a fact.

We reached the car and immediately kneeled next to it, to check the undercarriage. There it was, a homemade bomb.

- "Nitroglycerin."- I whispered and sighed as we stood up to talk with Mr. Archer.

- "No, no, no. Stay back. Stay back! Stay back. I don't want anybody else to get hurt!"- who was, of course, losing it.

- "Stop talking. Just listen. Just listen to me!"- Derek commanded- "We're with the FBI and we're here to help. When you put your foot down, you trigger the arming mechanism. Now, if you move, you could set it off."

- "Where are Brenda and Hannah? Are they ok? I don't want them to die, too."

- "Nobody's gonna die."- Morgan was sure of it, and I had to trust him as well.

- "They're safe. Don't worry. The bomb squad's gonna be here soon."- I added in a softer voice, trying to calm him down.

- "I need you to keep the exact pressure that you have on that brake as you have right now. If you don't, all three of us are gonna die."- so much for calming the poor guy, I thought and widened my eyes.

- "Well, can you do something?"- Mr. Arched asked, and it was a pretty good question, so I looked at Morgan and nodded.

- "Can you?"- Derek didn't reply. Instead, he looked at us and then knelt again to take a good look at what we were dealing with.

- "This thing's homemade, but the framework is familiar."- and to be honest, those were the words I needed to hear- "Yeah. Yeah, I can disarm this. I just need something sharp."

- "I've got a knife in my glove box."- Mr. Archer said and walked to the other side of the vehicle and slowly opened the passenger's door.- "It's underneath the map. Right there."

- "Sir, just sit still. You're doing fine."- Morgan said from underneath the car. - "I'm gonna get you out of here."

I jogged to Derek and knelt by his side as I gave him the knife. But before he started working, he moved and looked at me for a second, and whispered.

- "Hey kid, I think you should back up."

- "Not happening."- I replied as I shook my head and didn't move an inch from his side.

- "You have to be at your baby's birthday party."

- "So do you."- I replied without second guessing what I was doing. There was no way I was leaving him alone. - "What's the next step?"- I grabbed my flashlight and pointed at the bomb, as Morgan moved closer to it to take a better look.

- "Alright, the trick is rendering the pressure sensor inactive without letting the detonator think that it's time to go. The only problem is, this son of a bitch built this thing by himself and he used all the same color wires."

- "Seven wires and you don't know which one to cut? I'm not so crazy about these odds."- I cut Morgan a short smile, trying (again) to ease the mood.

- "It's gotta be one of these two right here."- Morgan pointed them out but didn't decide which one to cut.

- "Guys, you gotta do something quick here, man."- and just on cue, Mr. Archer started panicking. - "My foot is cramping up. I cannot keep my foot on the pedal."

- "Sir, please, please. If you want to stay alive, I need you to keep that foot down and try to sit still, please."- Morgan commanded again. It wasn't a request, it was an order. And so, Archer didn't move. Morgan needed to make a calm decision, and that man wasn't helping.

- "Reid..."- Derek whispered after a few seconds. - "It's probably this wire right here if he stayed true to the original design."

- "Go with your gut."- I murmured and tried to be as reassuring as possible. I closed my eyes as Morgan moved the knife closer to the wire and made a decision. All I had in my mind at that minute was my wife and my baby, and how I didn't want to waste any more seconds of life feeling sad when I could be with them and make them happy instead.

Morgan cut the wire and all I could hear were the sirens approaching. I couldn't even breathe.

- "What? Well?"- Archer asked, and that was when we both let out the breath we were holding and stood up.

- "Sir, you're fine. You can get out of the car."- Morgan said and moved the door for him.

- "Are you serious? You did it? You did it? I'm gonna live?!"- Allen Archer couldn't believe it, he was nearly crying as he moved.

- "Let's get you to your family."- I said and helped him out of the vehicle, only to feel his shaking arms around me in a second, as he hugged me tight.

- "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you so much."

The bomb squad arrived just in time to receive Morgan's defused mechanism.

- "Rossi was right. The unsub doesn't like sharing attention."- I pointed out as we walked back to our car.

- "So he's decided to eliminate Allen Archer. And now he's graduated to Nitroglycerin."- Morgan added.

- "We should put the Archers in protective custody until further notice."- I grabbed my phone and turned it on as we got into the car.

- "Once the bomb squad's done clearing that house, I want to take another look at that device and see if there's anything else we can learn."- Morgan turned to me and raised an eyebrow.- "Are you calling Hotch?"

- "Hey chipmunk! we are ok, don't worry."

- "Of course, you are not!"- Morgan mumbled and chuckled, shaking his head. I bet he was thinking I was whipped. But I didn't care.

Nothing like a close-to-death situation to put your own life in perspective, I guess. The perks of working at the BAU.

On the way back home, after getting our unsub - who wasn't Allen Archer by the way, he was just a secondary killer who tried to impress his wife and killed seven people in the process, Rossi and I had another talk that helped me. That time I faced my feelings as I stared at my wife sleeping on the other side of the plane. We ended up playing chess, which surprised me because I didn't know Rossi could play. Well, I finished him in five moves, but that doesn't mean he wasn't a good contender. It was refreshing playing with someone else and talking about random things with him.

When we got home that night, Raven was still awake, and I held her tight as I heard her giggling with all the kisses I kept giving her. Frank was babysitting when we got home, which was always nice. He has been a great godfather to Raven, and they have an amazing bond, of which I am not jealous, not at all.

- "I'm glad you are here, guys because we need to go through a few details for Raven's party."- Frank said and smiled at us.

- "Why are you giving us your psycho smile?"- (Y/N) questioned right away.- "It's freaky. It means you are plotting something. I know you."

- "Stop it with the Jedi mental powers."- Frank argued right away.- "I just was wondering if you changed your mind about location. Do you still wanna do it here? Or did you talk with your mom about having the party in her house?"

- "We talked about it."- my wife explained.- "And I think we are gonna do it at my mom's. Why?"- and immediately, Frank's face changed to pure bliss.

- "Great!! That means there is gonna be enough room for the band! We have been rehearsing a few of Raven's favorite tunes, and we wanna play for her."

- "What?"- (Y/N) stared at her friend, trying to process what was going on. I stared at them for a moment and then looked at Raven, who kept her gaze on Frank the entire time he talked.

- "Yes, we have been practicing a lot for this gig! It's the most important show ever! My goddaughter has to have the best and only the best."

There was a deep silence, as me and (Y/N) tried to understand what Frank was telling us. It was the sweetest proposition ever, and honestly, we were moved. (Y/N) moved closer to him and wrapped her arms around her friend.

- "You are gonna rock!"- that was her answer, and Frank's eyes lit up immediately.

- "Thank you, nugget!! You are not gonna regret this!"

- "I know I will!- she joked and punched his arm, playfully.

- "Come on! The lullaby tunes of Slayer we are working on are gonna be a hit at the party!"- the way he said those words made me think he wasn't actually joking.

- "Paco! Keep it family-friendly, ok?"- (Y/N) warned him, half joking, half serious.

- "Sure, sure. So, I'm gonna get going, let me know when you need a babysitter for Birdie."- Frank grabbed his things and kissed Raven's cheeks a million times before even walking to the door.- "I love you, little lady."

- "She loves you too."- I assured him as I started waving at him, making Raven do the same.- "Say bye-bye to Uncle Frank."- our baby daughter mumbled "Bye!" as Frank kept waving at her from the door.

- "See you Saturday, Birdie!"

- "Can you believe we are gonna have a one-year-old baby daughter?"- I asked my wife as she got into bed with me later that night. I put aside the book I was reading and looked at her as she got under the covers and cuddled with me.

- "No, that still sounds like a fairy tale to me."- she whispered and hid her face in my neck. - "I still can't believe we are married."

- "Me neither. You are still way out of my league."- I confessed and my wife giggled against my skin.

- "Shut up, today Einstein's great-granddaughter flirted with you."

- "What are you talking about?"- I was honestly confused as (Y/N) moved and looked into my eyes with a playful smile.

- "Don't play the fool, Morgan told me she was all over you in a crime scene, Doctor Reid."

- "I have no idea what you are talking about!"- I wasn't even lying. Yes, doctor Einstein had been taking a look at Archer's truck, I had seen her, even talked to her for a minute. But that was it.

- "Come on!"- my wife raised an eyebrow and stared into my eyes, trying to find any sign of deceit in them. - "You surely must know the effect you have on women."

- "What effect? She was just the forensic specialist!"- I whispered/yelled, 'cos I didn't want to wake Raven in the other room.

- "She flirted with you! Morgan said it had been awkward."- (Y/N) continued talking, and I wanted to kill Morgan. What was he talking about?

- "That never happened!"

- "You were a bad boy, Spencer."- and the tone of voice my wife used gave me goosebumps immediately.

- "No, I wasn't! I didn't do anything wrong!"- I tried to excuse myself, but she shook her head and ran his hand through my hair, tugging it as she kept staring into my eyes.

- "You've been very naughty, Dr. Reid. You flirted with a girl and never told her you were married."

- "I don't have to tell people I'm married. I wear a ring that screams I'm yours."

I was confused and aroused at the same time by that point of the conversation. My wife was acting so dominant, and the fact she called me by my honorifics wasn't helping. She clearly knew what she was doing to me.

- "Does it?"- (Y/N) whispered and rubbed her lips against my neck. - "Only the ring?"

- "And me, all of me."- I replied and ran my hand up and down her bare arm as she started kissing my neck, leaving little marks on my skin. - "You know I love you too much to even look at another woman, cara mia."

- "Do you? Really?"- she whispered as she bit my skin softly, making me shiver as I closed my eyes, feeling how I melted underneath her touch. - "Do you wanna be a good boy and tell me?"

My brain shut down with those words. Good boy. God! I wanted to be her good boy so badly. So I immediately nodded and felt her leaving a mark on my neck as she bit and sucked on my skin.

- "I love you so much, ma cherie. So much, there is no other woman in the entire world for me but you."

- "Not even Einstein's great-granddaughter?"

- "Not even her, not anyone. Just you."

I felt her move on the bed as she sat on my lap, straddling me. She held my face with both hands and stared into my eyes as I looked at her with pure love and lust.

- "I don't know, Dr. Reid. I'm not sure I believe you."

- "Do you want me to show you?"- I whispered and tried to move to hold her waist, but (Y/N) pushed my hands away from her and grabbed them tight.

- "No. I want to punish you for being a flirt."- her words stopped time. That was the first time my wife had ever said such a thing, and it got me so hard I felt embarrassed. But she was driving me crazy, and she hadn't even started with me yet.

- "P... pu... punish me?"- and I even stuttered, 'cos I was nervous

- "Yes. You need to learn to respect your wife, Dr. Reid."

And as she pronounced those words, she started rubbing herself against my erection, making me moan immediately.

- "God, I'm... I'm so sorry."- I mumbled as I tried to move my hands but hers were tight against them, immobilizing me.

- "You don't get to touch me yet. You haven't earned that right."- she whispered slowly as she kept rubbing her body in the exact spot that drove me insane with lust.

- "Please."- I begged, my voice was a little whimper that could have embarrassed me. But didn't. She had me right where she wanted. I wanted it too.

- "Not until you've learned your lesson."- (Y/N) smirked and removed her hands from my wrist.- "Don't you dare touch me, Dr. Reid. Or you are gonna regret it. Ok?"

- "Yes."

- "Yes what?"- she raised an eyebrow and stared into my eyes, waiting for my answer. I didn't hesitate, I just wanted to please her. So I quickly replied.

- "Yes, ma'am."

- "Good boy."- and just like that I realized I would do anything she'd asked me to do if it meant she'd call me a good boy again.

My wife moved from my lap and pulled down my pajama shorts, never taking her eyes off mine. It took a lot of self-control not to tangle my fingers in her hair as she slowly crawled and kissed the tip of my fully hard cock. I was already dripping for her and the sounds I made with that simple kiss were too embarrassing to recreate. I melted completely underneath every one of her touches.

- "Let me explain to you how this is going to be, Doctor Reid." - my wife held my erection and slowly (painfully slowly may I add) started jerking me off. - "You can't come until I tell you to come. Am I clear?"

- "Yes ma'am."- I answered so quickly I almost interrupted her.

- "Good. Now tell me, Doctor Reid, do you think any other woman could ever make you feel so good?"

- "Nev..."- I couldn't continue talking 'cos I felt the warmth of her mouth capturing my entire member, and the only sound that could come from my mouth was an animalistic groan.

- "Sorry, I didn't get you."- she stopped what she was doing and raised an eyebrow. - "You were saying?"

So that's what my wife was going to do to me: tease me until I'd lose it.

- "No other woman could ever make me feel like you do, ma cherie."- I answered quickly as she started sucking me off one more time and I felt her humming in agreement against my dick.

- "Oh shit"- I mumbled and held the bed sheets tight in a desperate attempt to keep my hands from her body, something that sounded incredibly easy, but ended up being a whole different challenge.

I tried to keep my eyes open as long as I could. I knew I couldn't come, but she was doing all the things she knew I loved, and it was hard not to lose myself in the moment.

- "How badly do you want me?"- (Y/N) asked me and licked the base of my dick. I opened my mouth but just couldn't say a word for a solid few seconds, the sensation was just too good and my brain wasn't working properly. - "Don't make me repeat myself."

- "I want you so much I feel I'm gonna go crazy"- I managed to say, feeling sweat forming on my forehead as I tried my best not to cum.

- "Not enough."- my wife replied and continued sucking me, wrapping her tongue around my dick, playing with it and teasing me in every single way possible.

- "Don't you want to touch me?"- she asked and ran her hand down her breast, toying with her nipples.

- "Please, yes."- I tried to move my hand, but she yanked it away.

- "You can't. At least not yet. Not until you've learned not to flirt with other women."- (Y/N) moved her hands down her body and my eyes followed every move, hypnotized.

- "I don't want anyone else, just you. Only you."

- "You say that... and then you flirt with the forensic."- her fingers reached the edge of her panties and disappeared underneath the fabric. My mouth was watering as I imagined how wet she was, how warm her pussy felt when I entered her. How delicious it tasted when I ate her out.

- "Please, let me show you I just love you. I only want you."- I begged and tried to touch her, but she raised her eyebrow and I immediately stopped. She didn't even have to say a word, just looked at me and I froze. - "I need to feel you, please ma'am. Let me touch you."

- "You haven't earned it yet."- she replied and moved her index finger from her pussy to her lips, licking and sucking it slowly.

- "You are torturing me."- I almost felt like crying, it was so frustrating being so turned on and not being able to come or even touch my wife.

- "Am I?"- she whispered and moved upon my body, like a panther playing with their prey. - "Well, if you are not enjoying this..."- she made an attempt to move, but I widened my eyes and shook my head.

- "No! No! Please don't go! I'll behave, I won't complain. Just please, do something!"

(Y/N) sighed as she stared at me with a small satisfactory smile on her face. She ran her fingers up and down my chest and shook her head.

- "Maybe you need to beg a little more. Tell me how badly you want me to make you feel good."- my wife sat upon me again and started rubbing my cock against the fabric of her panties, so painfully slowly for a moment, I thought I was going to go crazy with desire.

- "Ma cherie, please, I'm begging you, make me feel good. I love you so much."

- "How much?"- she kept rubbing against my body, nearly making me spill myself.

- "I would kill anyone who dares threaten you, cara mia."- I answered quickly, trying to suppress the moans and failing in the process. - "I love you so much that one day without you is agony. I want you so much that no other woman on earth could ever come close to what you make me feel. I need you, ma cherie. I wanna make you feel good too."

And I guess my Gomez Addam's speech really pleased her 'cos that was when she guided me to her entrance and slipped my dick slowly inside of her. So slowly I could feel how every inch of me entered her, and my brain shut down.

- "Keep talking, Dr. Reid."- (Y/N) whispered between sweet moans- "You almost convinced me."

- "I love you"- that was all I managed to say as she started to move upon me and my entire being focused on not coming right away.

- "And?"

- "Please, please ma cherie, I wanna come..."- I mumbled and she shook her head as she kept bouncing on me.

- "No, you can't come until you've learned your lesson."

- "I've learned it, I swear. Please, please at least let me touch you. I need you."- and as a miracle, she guided my hands to her warm breast.

- "Oh god."- I mumbled and sat down immediately to start kissing every inch of her skin available to me. My mouth moved from her breast to her neck until I found her lips, and she continued moaning against my lips as I kissed her.

- "I love you so much, ma cherie."- I managed to whisper as I felt her hands on my back scratching me. - "I just wanna make you happy."- I mumbled against her lips as I continued kissing her.

- "Make me come and you can come."- she replied and looked at me with a dirty smirk on her lips. If that was a challenge, I was ready to obey and fulfill my duty.

I held her waist tight as I laid back and increased the rhythm of my hips bucking against her. I held her in place and watched her breast bounce as she moaned quietly.

- "Come here."- I whispered, but she didn't move, she just raised an eyebrow and stared at me.- "Please, ma'am. Let me please you."

And she finally leaned on me, resting her hands on each side of my head, capturing my lips in a kiss that left me breathless for a moment. I could feel her pussy tightening around my cock, edging me. I held her tight and increased my pace, the sound of her body slamming against mine became the only sound we both could hear besides our own muffled moaning.

- "I'm so close."- my wife whispered, resting her forehead on mine. I kept one hand on her waist, and moved the other to her breast, playing with them and guiding one to my lips.

- "Shit... Spencer, please... I'm gonna..."- but she didn't even finish that sentence, her orgasm washed over her and took me to my own release in a second. I kept my hands in place as she slowly started decreasing her movements, until her whole body leaned on mine, panting.

- "I love you."- she whispered and kissed my neck before she started giggling. - "Was it too weird?"

- "No, it was incredibly sexy calling you ma'am and having you bossing me in bed."- I confessed and held her cheek to kiss her lips. - "We should do this more often, actually."

- "So there is a little sub in you trying to find his way out, Doctor Reid."- my wife smiled and kissed me again.

- "Yes, ma'am."- I replied and smiled against her lips.- "But only for you. No one else but you."

(Y/N)'s point of view

Raven's first birthday party was a ride! The entire family was excited about the event and helped get everything for the party. We drove early to my mom's with Diana and Aunt Ethel and discovered my dad was already there, helping her set the tables in the backyard. Soon after, Frank, Lu, and Mikey showed up, ready to help with anything we needed. Which included, of course, messing around and making Raven laugh the entire time. It was incredibly hard putting her down for her nap, but I knew if she skipped it, nothing was going to go right.

Rossi, Hotch, and Jack showed up around four, holding presents for our baby. I thought it was sad Aaron and Beth had broken up, they were the perfect couple. But I knew he didn't want to talk about it and get all sad and melancholic.

- "Aunt (Y/N)!"- Jack ran and hugged me as soon as he walked into the house.

- "Oh my god, Jack! Why are you so tall! You are soon gonna be as tall as Spencer!"- I wrapped my arms around him and smiled at Hotch, who stared at us from the door.

- "Where is Birdie? I wanna give her the present I picked for her!"- Jack was incredibly excited, which made me very happy.

- "She is in the backyard, go ahead and say hi!"- Spencer said as Jack hugged him as well.

- "Thank you Uncle Spencer!"- and off he went.

- "Thank you for coming"- Spencer hugged both Rossi and Hotch and welcomed them to my parents' house. We hadn't even closed the door when JJ and Will showed up with little Henry, followed by Derek, Garcia, and her mystery companion: Emily Prentiss. I was in shock when I saw my friend standing in front of me, and most of all, I was amazed by the fact Penelope successfully kept a secret from us.

- "Like I was gonna miss this party!"- she said as I nearly fainted when I saw her at the door.

- "Oh my god!!! You are actually here!!"

- "Body and soul and ready to spoil your little princess."- Em said as she hugged me and Spencer tight.- "I missed you guys!"

- "We missed you too!"- Spencer whispered and smiled. - "I'm so happy you are here! Thank you so much for coming."

- "Nothing on earth would ever keep me from my best friends."- Emily replied and smiled at us.- "Now please tell me you have some booze."

- "We even have a rock band playing live."- I beamed and nearly clapped in excitement.- "Everybody is in the backyard, go ahead, we'll be right there."

Diana and my mom always got along perfectly, which I know made Spencer very happy. He had always been deeply protective of her, and it made my heart beat harder when I realized now he had a family helping him take care of Diana. We all loved her very much.

My brother and his girlfriend were at the party too. They had been dating for over a year, a new record in his life, and we all liked her. None of us knew if things between them could work out in the end, but at that point in life, we were glad Phoenix had someone by his side, no matter how long.

Kate, her husband, and her niece were there too, which made me incredibly happy because we had become very close friends and I honestly enjoyed having her on the team. I knew no one could ever replace Emily, but Kate had made me feel like in the old days at work. And let me tell you, at our work, that is deeply needed.

Raven was a little princess enjoying all the attention. The birthday theme was rainbows because she was currently obsessed with rainbows and unicorns, after Mikey got her a stuffed unicorn one day he babysat her. She crawled and played with everybody at the party. She especially enjoyed the ballpit Spencer had made for her. Pen helped me bake a million cupcakes because we created a cupcake rainbow for the party, it was fun and everybody loved it. Besides, it looked stunning at the table. However, despite the amount of sugar on the cupcakes, mom still got a birthday cake for Raven.

- "My granddaughter deserves a cake for her first birthday!"- she argued when I told her the cupcake idea, weeks before the party.

- "Mom, she is turning one, she can't even eat cake!"

- "And cupcakes she can actually have?"- she got me there.

- "If I wipe off the frosting, she can have a little bite."- I tried to win the argument, but it was impossible.

- "Stop, I'm getting her a cake."

And it ended up being a great idea, mostly because Raven looked adorable trying to blow her single candle on her cake as we all sang happy birthday. Frank and Mikey played a few songs for her, songs they had written for her when they babysit her, and that she definitely loved, because she kept clapping and staring at her favorite uncles with eyes filled with love and admiration.

We also had a few activities for the grownups. We had a nice prize to giveaway to whoever answered the most questions correctly. All of them Raven-related, of course.

- "Ok, for ten points, which was Raven's first word?"- I asked and Frank immediately grabbed a squeaky toy, making it sound like an animal.

- "Dada!"

- "That's correct!"- I replied in my best TV host imitation voice. - "And for 10 extra points, can you tell when she said her first word?"

- "It was... three weeks ago, when you guys came back from a case!"

- "That's correct! Frank has the lead with sixty points, followed by Pen with fifty."- I announced and everybody clapped, including Raven, who was happily resting on her father's arms. Spencer kept smiling and kissing her chubby cheeks as the grownups kept playing.

Eventually Frank won. He kicked ass in the flash round and Pen might or might not have gotten a little jealous. She argued Frank got to spend more time with Raven 'cos he was frequently babysitting when we were out.

- "The fact it was such a neck to neck contest only shows how much you love and care for our baby as her godparents.."- Spencer said and hugged Garcia, who was still pouting.- "And we have a prize for the second position as well."- he said and handed her a box with a cute mug, as Frank showed everybody the movie theater gift card he had won. He was honestly excited.

- "Ok little lady, you are gonna be my date to the movies." - he said as Raven raised her arms for him to pick her up from the ballpit she was playing in, again.

- "Well I think it's only fair that both her godfather and godmother take her to the movies to see her first movie."- Garcia added, and kissed Raven's head. I stared at the whole scene, feeling my heart filled with love. Our daughter was loved by so many people, and me and Spencer had created such a beautiful family, that tears kept threatening to fill my eyes.

I felt someone hold my hand, and my husband smiled at me as I turned around. He moved me to the side and hugged me, probably thinking the same as I was.

- "Enjoying your daughter's party, Dr. Reid?"- I asked him and he chuckled immediately.

- "Very much, Dr. Reid."

- "I'm not a Dr yet, I still need to present my thesis to the board."- I corrected him and my husband simply shook his head.

- "You are gonna do great."- there was silence between us for a few seconds, as we stared at the scene around us. Henry and Jack kept playing, Diana and my mom were eating cake and drinking coffee, enjoying what seemed to be a very interesting conversation 'cos they didn't stop laughing the entire time. Our friends seemed to be having fun, enjoying a few drinks in the backyard while Raven kept giggling on Frank's arm as Pen kept making funny faces to her.

- "Is it too weird to tell you I am a little sad she just turned one?"- Spencer whispered and I shook my head.

- "No, I don't think it's weird. Our baby is growing."- I murmured as I glued my eyes to Raven. One year had already passed, and it seemed like a whole lifetime had happened between that day and the day she had been born.

- "I just... It's selfish but I feel a little sad that my baby is growing up. She is already walking, soon she will be a little girl, start school... then college and before we know it, she will leave the house."- I stopped Spencer's rambing with my fingers on his lips, the ones he kissed immediately, looking right into my eyes.

- "You are overthinking, hon. None of that will happen today, and today we enjoy our daughter's first birthday, ok?"- he sighed and nodded. - "What if we take the official picture before the sun sets and we run out of natural light?"- I suggested, to take his mind from the dark place he had gone. He nodded one more time and kissed me.

- "Gomez! Morticia!"- Mikey called up and shook his head.- "This is a kid's party, stop making out in front of your poor baby!"

I know I blushed and so did Spencer, as we parted and started walking back to our guesses.

- "I will never get used to that."- Emily teased us with an evil grin.

- "Me neither"- JJ added under breath, though I heard her quite clear.

- "After all the years we had to witness you two in denial of your love, now we have to deal with your corniness and worst of all, all the kissing."- Emily added and everybody laughed at her words. I just shook my head, a little embarrassed.

- "Do you remember that one time I actually sent you to Spencer's room to declare your love and you came back and got wasted on mini gin bottles 'cos you found Ashley in his room?"- the only one who knew that was Emily, which is why everybody gasped after she delivered that question.

- "Yes, I do, but let's not talk about that... and it wasn't gin, it was vodka, and we drank it before you sent me to declare my undying love in my pajamas."

- "What the hell was Ashley doing in your room?"- Garcia asked, opening her eyes in shock.

- "I don't know, Pen. Spencer?" - I turned and looked at my husband, who widened his eyes and shook his head.

- "I have no idea what you are talking about."

- "That case in Miami when you had an awful headache"- I remind him.- "I casually stopped by your room and Ashley opened the door. She said you were in the bathroom, so I just left."- Spencer stared at me perplexed. I had never told him I knew that.

- "That night she would never leave my room, I had to ask her to leave."- he whispered.- "I'm sure she just wanted to make sure I was ok."

And the entire party laughed. Every single grown up there. Even his mom.

- "Sure, Spence, she wanted to tuck you in."- JJ joked and shook her head.- "She wanted to have sex with you! Of course she did!"

- "I had never seen anyone more obvious in my entire life."- Derek added.

- "And the fact you were blind at her attempts to seduce you made it so much funnier."- Em commented.- "I'm still surprised Ashley was able to walk out of the BAU alive and by herself and not in an ambulance."

- "Me too."- I answered, thinking I was dying to hit Ashley the entire time she spent in the BAU.

- "I never noticed! I swear! I never understood her attitude! I was never interested in her."- Spencer explained and shook his head. - "And I refuse to have this conversation on the day of my daughter's first birthday."

- "You are right Spence, congratulations to Raven! She is the cutest little girl on earth."- JJ said and smiled at us.

- "And now that she is one year old, are you planning on giving her a little brother or sister?"- Rossi asked us and neither of us knew what to say.

- "Well, we haven't..."- Spencer stuttered and I simply answered.

- "Still not ready for a second baby. Maybe next year."

Which was true. We knew we wanted a big family, and having Raven had been an incredible ride. But I had to finish my PhD first, and we had plans to get a house in a couple of years, to raise our kids in a bigger place, with a backyard and a treehouse, like we had always dreamed of.

But of course, life was going to get in the way of that.

Next chapter

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #babymetaldoll writes #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid smut

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camillecrellin · 1 year ago

Text

Video Store — Angela Giarratana

Synopsis: You owned a video store. Spencer Agnew's favourite. He constantlly mentions it to his coworkers. What happens when Angela and Chanse pay the store a visit?

A/N: The synopsis is shit, I'm soo sorry. I hate this but please request some Angela/Smosh/Starkid stuff. I need to get my hyperfixation out somehow.

Word Count: 670

Warnings: mentions of death, swearing

Owning a business wasn’t easy. Especially for a dying media, but films and music were your passion. And so, when your mum passed, she left you her old corner store, which after a year long renovation you turned into what it was now. Your very own video and film rental shop.

Instead of Streaming was the name. A simulacrum of the past where you could rent or buy films, music, and video games.

And because of the niche need for physical media anymore, you knew almost everyone that came into the store. There was no way around it. You liked it. Despite not being a very social person, you knew that the people that shopped at your store shared the same interests.

Spencer Agnew was one of these people. A self-proclaimed film and video game nerd, he would come into your store about once a week to look over your new stock. And every now and then he’d bring people in from his work. Some of them even becoming regulars as was the case with Shayne and Damien.

Humming along to the sounds of Iggy Pop over the speakers, you went about your day refilling shelves to an almost empty store when the bell rang, signalling that someone was here.

Looking up you smiled at the two customers as the entered the store with wide smiles on their face. “Holy fucking shit this is soo cool.” The brown-haired girl gushed.

“Thank you, Spencer.” The man, who came in with the girl, sang making you quietly laugh to yourself.

“You’re Spencer’s friends?” You asked.

The pair looked to each other before the boy said, “You know him?”

“Yeah, I own this place.”

“Oh my God, you’re Y/n!” The girl squealed as she held onto the guy’s arm. Composing herself, she looked to you and continued. “Sorry he’s talked about you before; this place is like his man cave.”

“Oh yeah.” You chuckled. “I know.”

“If you need any help, just ask me.” You said, turning back to replenish the stock. “It’s 2 for 1 on the VHS’ but we rent VCR players assuming you don’t have one still.”

“Do you have any musicals?” The girl asked, making you whip back around to face the pair.

“Musical movies are just here, and the cast recordings are up the stairs with all the other music. We have them on vinyl, cassettes, and CDs.” You pointed to the locations.

“You really know your stuff.” The girl chuckled in an almost awe like way.

“Yeah, I love movies and I got a film degree so I guess I should do something with it.” You smiled at the girl, who nodded and walked over to the musical section of the DVDs.

It was around 10 minutes before the pair retreated, the guy having obviously embarrassed his friend as she seemed more on edge and nervous than before.

Carrying the MTV Legally Blonde proshot and the musical Nine, the girl came up to the counter.

Walking up to the checkout, you smiled. “Just those?”

“Yeah.” She nodded.

“Good choice.” You said, scanning the DVDs your hand reaching for a paper bag. “Well actually I haven’t seen Nine, but it looks decent.”

“Neither have I but it says it’s Italian so…”

You raised your eyebrows, making her friend speak up, “She’s Italian.”

Laughing, you looked down in embarrassment, “I should’ve guessed.”

Bagging up the items, you set up the card machine, telling the girl the price before she paid. As you went to hand her the bagged DVDs, your hands brushed, a blush creeping onto your face.

Gaining a small confidence, the girl spoke. “I’m Angela by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Angela.” You smiled as you gazed into her eyes before quickly realising that she came with a friend. “Both of you…”

“Chanse.” He introduced himself.

You thanked Chanse with a nod before turning back to Angela, “You should come here more often. I can give you some recommendations.”

Angela agreed, biting her lip. “I will.”

#angela giarratana x reader #angela giarratana #smosh x reader #smosh

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poppy-in-the-woods · 7 months ago

Text

My Ride or Die - Part 2

Plot: Noah is your husband. Five years ago, he killed a man that was attacking you. The judge ruled that, since he shot him several times after he already had been stabbed by you, it was no longer self-defense. He got twenty years, and that was two and a half years ago. After the conjugal visit for his birthday, you visit him, bringing food and other presents to help him keep warm on cold nights.

Pairing: Noah x Female Reader

Word Count: 2601

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Tags: fluff, bit of angst, convict!Noah, masturbation, mentions of suggestive pictures.

Author’s note: betaed by the amazing @rottingfern. Sorry for the long wait, but you know, life gets in the way of writing sometimes, and I wanted to polish this one as much as I could. Let me know how I did, and hope you enjoy.

It had been exactly a week since you last saw Noah. You definitely needed a bit more recovery before thinking about having wild sex again, the ache between your legs still dully moaning, but you two were happy to see each other nonetheless.

The room was busy with spouses and kids that came to visit other inmates. Noah sat alone as he waited for you, but he quickly rose up when he saw you approaching. You greeted him with a quick hug and a peck on the lips and sat in front of him, putting the bag you were carrying on the bench beside you.

“How are you, my love?” you asked.

“Not bad. Better than most days now that you are here,” he said.

“I brought you some presents,” you said, taking the items out of the bag. “Here’s your sandwich,” you began, pushing it to him. He unwrapped it with an excited smile and began scarfing it down. “Slow down, honey, or it’s gonna hurt your stomach,” you told him.

“Sorry,” he said, chewing slower.

“I also brought you some extra underwear and socks,” you continued, putting the paper bag on the table.

“Nice!”

“The shampoo and deodorant you like…” you listed, taking them out of the bag too and placing them beside the underwear, “and a belated birthday present!” you announced, handing him the wrapped package.

“They let you bring that without opening it first?” he asked, skeptical.

“I told them it was a present, so they did me a favor” you told him, shrugging it off like it was nothing. You knew the schedule of the guard who had a soft spot for you and you fully took advantage of that, though you’d never tell that to Noah. “They ran it through the X-ray machine, with the rest of the stuff,” you assured him.

“No metal file or spoon hidden, then,” he joked.

“No, sorry,” you replied, chuckling as he finished unwrapping the book: it was a hardback copy of High Magick (A Guide to The Spiritual Practices That Saved My Life on Death Row), by Damien Echols. “Don’t take off the plastic just yet,” you whispered. He nodded. “I am sure you will find it a very interesting reading,” you added, in a normal tone.

“Thank you, baby,” he said, taking your hands and quickly kissing your knuckles.

You smiled at him and he smiled back at you, letting go of your hands before the guard could decide that it was too much physical contact and end the visit early.

“How’s it going with that newbie? Did he bother you again?” you asked, trying to make some small talk.

“Nah. It’s all good now, he learned his place,” he replied, finishing the sandwich. He let you clean his mouth with the paper napkin.

“Good.”

“I received your letter yesterday, by the way” he told you.

“They took their sweet time reading it, didn’t they?” you fumed.

“I’m sure the warden loves your prose, and the poems. I certainly do,” he said. “I especially loved the lines that said ‘My heart is a bird/ that every night takes flight/ to you and guards your sleep’, and ‘I dream of your hands around my waist, / your breath on my neck, / your heat inside mine, / and our hearts beating in sync’”.

“I wasn’t too inspired with the rhymes in that last one,” you said, grimacing.

As much as you didn’t feel any embarrassment for the words you wrote to Noah, you didn’t want them repeated to you. Creative writing was an outlet your therapist recommended, as were the dabbles in poetry, but you didn’t fancy yourself a poet. Noah was the poet and the musician, not you.

“By the way, do you need another notebook?” you asked.

You had given him a pretty notebook when he entered prison so he could annotate whatever he wanted, and you knew he had been using it as a sort of journal and to write his lyrics and compose his music. A month before the anniversary of his first year locked up, he had requested a new one. You had bought one with more pages that time. He was on notebook number three now.

“No, I still haven’t filled the last one. I will tell you when I need a new one, but thanks for asking,” he said, smiling. “How are you, baby? How are things at work?”

“I’m fine. Before I forget, I have a new manager now, a lady in her fifties - the old one was fired because Shelly reported him to HR for attempted grooming,” you explained. Shelly was your only underage coworker, a sixteen-year-old girl who was still in high-school. “Anyway, the new one is very nice, and upon learning about you, she told me she has a son in prison.”

“In here?” he asked.

“No, he’s in another facility. He committed tax evasion and had a money laundering scheme going on. He got mixed with the wrong crowd, apparently,” you informed him. “They don’t see each other that much, but she writes him letters every week. She told the whole team that my visitation days are sacred and that if anyone needs a change of schedule, to try anyone else, because I am not available,” you finished smiling.

“I already like her,” he said, containing a laugh.

“She also said you were very handsome ‘despite all that ink’”, you told him, marking the quotations in the air. “She’s kind of old-fashioned regarding tattoos.”

“Tell her I said thank you for the compliment,” he replied. “And that I don’t take offense to her not liking my tattoos.”

“Will do!”

“I have something for you,” he said, taking a square envelope from under his ass. “I recorded it with the boys. I want you to be the first to listen to it,” he said, as you took the CD out of the envelope. You smiled, looking at the title and all the signatures.

“I feel honored, honestly,” you said, immediately putting it in your purse. “I’ll listen to it tonight, though it might take me a while to write an in-depth review.”

“Don’t worry about that, we can wait. The boys send their regards, by the way,” he said.

“Tell them I said hi back. I’m so happy you made friends here! And Nick… well, I am not happy that he is in prison too, but… at least you already had a friend the day you arrived, you know?” you said.

“I was relieved to see a familiar face the first day, I’m not gonna lie,” Noah admitted.

“By the way, I spoke with the lawyer…” you began.

“No,” he snapped, cutting you off.

“But I would just spend two years, and your sentence would be reduced -” you began.

He grabbed your wrists.

“Look at me: we already talked about this, and I won’t let you spend a single day behind bars. I fired the gun, I take the blame,” he said, holding your gaze intently.

“But…” you tried to argue. While you recognized and were grateful for his sacrifice, you didn’t want him to spend so much time behind bars. You thought you were strong enough to endure two years if that meant he got to be free earlier. Why wouldn’t he let you do that for him? You loved him just as he loved you; why shouldn’t you sacrifice in return?

“No buts,” he said, putting a finger over your lips. “I heard what the guards do to the female inmates in prison and I won’t let you go through that to shave five years off my sentence,” he said, finally releasing your hands. “End of discussion.”

“Okay. I love you so much, Noah!” you said after a pause, on the verge of tears.

“I love you too, baby. Now, don’t cry! You know I hate to see that here,” he said, and you knew he was right: the crying was best reserved for when no one could see, because any sign of weakness on your part could reflect badly on him. You took a deep breath and smiled at him. “That’s better. Do you have an appointment with your therapist this week?”

“Yeah, this afternoon,” you nodded. You had taken notes to talk to your therapist about his response to your proposal, whatever his response would be, though you didn’t expect him to agree, honestly.

“Good. Tell her I enjoyed the books she recommended.”

“That one is also a recommendation from her,” you said, lightly tapping the Damien Echols book. “The extra material is all my idea, though,” you whispered. He arched an eyebrow, questioningly. “You’ll see.”

Not long after, you had to end the visit. With another quick hug and light peck on the lips, you said goodbye to him. On the way back home, you put the CD in the player of your car and listened to it. The lyrics were so beautiful and his voice sounded so clear, like he was beside you, that you had to pull over to the side of the road for a couple of minutes while you let the tears finally flow.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” a voice asked. You lifted your gaze to find a police officer standing by the side of your car. You rolled down the window and stopped the music. “Are you injured?”

“No, sir, I am fine. I just got emotional and… I needed a moment.”

“I see. What was that band, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Oh! That was Bad Omens; it’s my husband’s band. They’re on Spotify, I think.”

“They sound good, I’ll give them a listen. If you are better now, I suggest you go on your way,” he said.

“Yes, sir. Thank you for your concern.”

Every lawyer you ever spoke to always told you the same thing: if you’re ever stopped by a police officer, be polite and don’t let them know you have a spouse in prison, because they will look at you differently and there’s a chance they won’t be nice to you upon learning that fact.

You continued your way and arrived home in time to prepare a meal for yourself, feed the cat and go to your therapist appointment.

Meanwhile, Noah was in his cell, unwrapping the book from its plastic. He noticed an envelope taped to the back cover. He opened it to find several pictures. Eight of them were of you, recreating some pin-up posters; hot, but nothing that could be considered pornographic. The ninth, tenth and eleventh were more risqué, something that could be classified as artistic nudes, but the twelfth…

He took the picture number 12 in his hands, looking at it closely. It was a close up of your nude chest, focusing on the tattoo over your sternum. Your nipples were not in frame, but he knew your breasts far too well, so he was able to complete that image mentally.

He carefully picked up the other photographs and put them back in the envelope. He then taped this one to the metal frame of the bunk bed above him and slid a hand in his pants. His mind was already racing, conjuring the image of you naked beside him, kissing him and touching him with light fingers.

“This one’s for you, baby” he muttered, stroking his cock.

Not shortly after he was finished, Nick leaned into the cell.

“Dude, what are you doing? We’re waiting for you in the music room!” he said.

“What?”

“Did you forget we scheduled a rehearsal for today?” Nick asked, entering the cell.

“Yeah, sorry…”

“Were you reading?” Nick asked, seeing the book next to Noah. “Is it any good?” he wanted to know, picking it up.

“Give it back!”

But it was too late: Nick had already seen the envelope and was inspecting its content.

“Oh, I see! You weren’t reading, you were jerking off in her honor” he laughed. “To be fair, I also do it in her honor sometimes,” he joked.

“Not funny, bro! Not funny.” Noah replied, snatching the book from him. “It’s my wife you’re talking about.”

“Sorry. Is something wrong between you two?” Nick asked, suddenly serious.

“No. She tried to bring up the appeal, thinks she should take part of the blame,” he said. “I told her she can forget about it, and I hope this time she listens. I understand where she comes from, but I love her far too much to let her do it.”

“And she loves you far too much not to try to convince you,” Nick pointed out.

“I guess so…”

“She does. I mean, she risked flirting with the guy at the entrance to bring you this, didn’t she?” Nick said, pointing at the book.

“What do you mean?”

“Rumor says that if you don’t want something to be too closely inspected, you compliment the guard at the entrance. Works like a charm if you’re a pretty woman, or at least that’s what my cousin said,” Nick told him. “Those pictures? They would probably be considered porn and confiscated. She’s a criminal mastermind, dude.”

“Yeah, sure,” Noah said, amused, but his laughter quickly died on his lips, as the implications of what Nick just told him sank in: you had taken too many risks for him and his pleasure, more than he was comfortable with. He sighed; his beautiful, smart and reckless wife! What was he going to do with you? “You will get out before me. Would you keep an eye on her for me?”

“Sure, dude. She’s my friend too, you know?”

Noah knew you also corresponded with Nick and talked to him on the phone. Past benders aside, you two were close enough for Nick to call you a friend. Knowing his friend, Nick was likely the one to suggest the fiery red lingerie to her as a birthday surprise, and if his suspicion was correct, Noah was very grateful to him.

“Thank you.”

“No need to thank me yet. We’re still both in this shithole, so maybe we could go to the music room now and rehearse?”

“Sure.”

That Saturday, while you were watching a movie, your phone rang. It was a collect call from jail, which you quickly accepted.

“Hey, baby!” Noah’s voice greeted you through the line.

“Hi! How are you? Is everything okay?” you asked, straightening yourself up on the couch. He didn’t seem distraught, but he was in jail after all, you could never be sure.

“Everything is as okay as it can be. I just wanted to hear your voice,” he said. “Oh, I have begun with your present. You were right, it’s a very interesting reading.”

“Did you enjoy the extras?” you asked.

“Oh, yeah! Thank you, baby.”

“By the way, I almost finished analyzing the record,” you told him. “I have the last two songs left and the conclusions, and I will have a full review, song by song.”

“You know you don’t have to do that, right?” he said.

“I know, but I like doing it, and I like to think that my reviews are useful for you guys, you know? To have a listener’s perspective,” you replied.

“Of course they are useful!” he assured you. “I just say it’s not an obligation,” he clarified.

“I know, and it doesn’t feel like it,” you swore.

“Okay. I need to go now, but I love you. Sweet dreams, baby,” he said.

“Sweet dreams, my love! I love you too,” you replied, and he hung up.

The next conjugal visit couldn’t come fast enough.

#poppy writes #noah sebastian #noah sebastian fanfic #convict!noah sebastian #noah sebastian x reader #my ride or die #bad omens fanfiction

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