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puckinghischier · 5 months ago

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Falling

Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary: reader gets hurt and nico is worried about her

notes: y’all i ain’t gonna lie, i went through a bit of a rollercoaster while writing this. i loved it at first, then halfway through started hating it, then somehow started loving it again towards the end. so if it seems a little all over place i’m sorry. also i know very little about how a dislocated shoulder works, so just pretended i didn’t if i got anything wrong. i hope y’all enjoy it!! happy reading!! 🫶🏼

request: from my 400 follower celly - “A hears that B got hurt and rushes over in a panic to see if they are okay” where reader maybe gets in an accident or gets hurt in their sport (nothing major). Bonus points if you add “I can braid your hair for you- I mean, only if you want.”

[4.5k]

part 2

“Yeah, Mom, I’m fine. Nothing’s broken, just a nasty dislocation,” you attempt to calm your mother’s nerves, trying to unlock your apartment door with your good arm while balancing your phone between your cheek and shoulder. “They reset it for me and told me to follow up with my primary care on Monday. Gave me some pain meds and sent me on my way.”

“Well, what about until then? What if you need help? What about work? How will you drive?” she rapid fires questions at you.

“I’ll figure it out, don’t worry. Since it was a work-related injury, I’ll still get paid. And they’re paying all of the medical bills, so that’s all taken care of,” you make your way into your apartment, shutting the door with your foot behind you. “Everything else I’ll handle as it comes.”

She doesn’t seem satisfied with your answer, tsking into her phone, making you picture her trademark displeased headshake.

“What about Nico? Why don’t you stay with him until you’re back to 100%? I’m sure he’d be willing to help out,” she suggests, her tone switching from worried to suggestive.

You roll your eyes, knowing exactly where this conversation is headed.

“Mom, how many times do I have to tell you, Nico and I are just friends. We work together. Just because you think you saw him look at me a certain way when you were visiting doesn’t mean I have to call him every time something goes wrong,” you tell her, placing your bag on your kitchen table.

Ever since your mom came in a few months ago to visit, she’s been on your case about making a move on Nico, it all starting when she witnessed Nico helping you across the ice during a pre-game practice while trying to get some action shots.

You work as a photographer for the Devils, not realizing that being able to ice skate would have been a nice addition to your resume.

Your college advisor arranged the interview for you right before graduation. You had no previous knowledge of hockey, having come from a football family. You told your advisor this, but she insisted you didn’t have to know anything about a sport to be able to take good pictures of it.

During the interview, you made sure to inform your now boss that you didn’t know how to skate, hoping it wouldn’t be a problem. He assured you that you could take pictures from the stands or the players bench, the chance of you having to step onto the ice slim.

For the first few months of your job, it was smooth sailing. You were mostly taking pictures from the camera holes in the glass or being told to cover locker room and arrival pictures. You worked with one other photographer, a seasoned sports photography veteran named Phil. Phil was a New Jersey native, having grown up skating, so he took over the duties of any major action shots the director wanted from on the ice.

Unfortunately for you, Phil’s wife had convinced him to retire early, losing his help right before the league’s short Christmas break.

Seeing as they had just hired you, and it was the middle of the season, the hunt for a replacement for Phil was put on the backburner, more important team matters taking precedence.

You were forced to take over Phil’s duties, meaning you were now responsible for any on the ice shots. You had found a way to slowly scoot across the perimeter of the rink, staying out of the way while also getting the shots you needed.

Your system was working well until the morning of a gameday, having gotten permission from your boss to bring your mother along to this particular practice, wanting to show her all aspects of your job.

For this particular game, the players were especially focused on practicing their skills and running drills during morning skate. You were doing your typical shuffle while clutching the edge of the waist-high wall when someone came zooming past you, causing your feet to start sliding uncontrollably, not being able to find your footing on the slick ice.

You felt the moment you were about to fall, waiting for the impact of your butt on the cold ice, but it never came. You felt yourself fall into a body covered by plastic pads, gloved hands shooting out to grab your upper arms.

You looked up, seeing Nico smiling down at you in amusement.

“It’s a bit slippery out here, huh?” he jokes, making sure you’re standing steady on your feet before letting go of you.

“Well, we are standing on ice, so….” You trail off, grabbing onto the wooden ledge again, preventing another near fall.

Nico laughs, looking down and shuffling his skates back and forth.

“Well would you look at that? We are on ice ” He flashes a smile, looking back up at you.

You stick your tongue out at him, earning another chuckle from the team’s Captain.

“You know, most people use these great things called ice skates when they try to walk on ice,” he tells you, lifting one skate up for emphasis.

Rolling your eyes, you scoff out a “Oh wow, why didn’t I ever think of that?”

“Just some food for thought,” Nico shrugged as he placed his foot back down on the ice, skating in a little circle, as if to say “See, told you so.”

You let go of the ledge to cross your arms, forgetting that you needed the stability. When you try to shift your weight from one leg to the other, you lose your footing again, this time falling forward into Nico. You let the camera in your hands fall, grabbing onto his biceps to stay upright, thankful for the camera strap around your neck.

His hands shoot out to grab your forearms.

“You know the sad thing is, even with the skates, I’d still be as clumsy, considering I have absolutely no idea how to use them,” you tell him, the two of you still holding on to one another.

Nico shakes his head at you, placing one of your hands on his forearm, moving you from in front of him to beside of him.

He starts slowly skating towards the bench while you shuffle your feet along, putting all of your focus on keeping yourself upright until you reach your destination.

When you finally reach the bench, you step off of the ice and let out a breath of relief.

“Thanks, Cap. Would’ve hated to make a fool of myself out there while my mom’s watching,” you thank him, looking over to where your mom sits, a smile on her face.

Nico follows your gaze and waves to your mom, matching her smile.

“Well, we wouldn’t want that now, would we? What if she found out her daughter was a skating fraud?” he teases, leaning in to whisper the last two words.

“It’s her fault for never taking me to the rink my town would throw up once a year at Christmas. Who knows, maybe I would’ve been a skating prodigy if given the chance,” you shrug.

A mischievous smile makes its way onto his face. “I think we should put that theory to the test,” he tells you, causing your eyes to latch onto his.

“Come again?” You raise your eyebrows and tilt your chin down.

“I mean, I can’t have some photographer out on my ice during practices that can’t even stand up,” he keeps his tone light, making sure you know he’s just teasing, “So, I’m going to teach you how to skate, and see if you really would have been a skating prodigy.”

He skates off, winking before resuming his practice.

You don’t have a chance to speak to him again until after the game, when you get at text from an unknown number reading “Rink, tomorrow, 2pm. I’ll bring skates, just bring your prodigy skills.”

After that, you meet with Nico twice a week for skating lessons.

The two of you quickly form a friendship, Nico bringing you coffee on gamedays and you slipping him snacks on the bench during games. You even started inviting him over for dinner after your lessons, insisting the least you can do is feed him to repay him for preventing you from making a fool of yourself on the ice.

Today, however, you did make a fool of yourself on the ice.

You were standing behind the net, telling the players to skate towards you so you could get some shots for the team’s Instagram account by request of the social media manager.

Once you were pleased with the amount of shots you had gotten, you left your spot from behind the net, skating slowly towards the benches, still a little wobbly on your skates.

You were looking down at your camera, thinking of how you’ll have to get Nico out here after the game to get some shots, knowing he’s currently doing pre-game interviews in the locker room.

You weren’t paying the slightest bit of attention to the pucks littering the ice in front of you, skating right into one and losing your balance, holding your camera up with one arm while trying to catch yourself with the other.

You felt the way your shoulder shifted, crying out in pain as players turned and started rushing towards you on the ice.

The team doctor came out and told you he was pretty sure your shoulder was simply dislocated, but sent you to the hospital to make sure nothing’s broken.

The ER doctor confirmed your diagnosis, putting your shoulder back into place before pumping you full of pain meds and placing your arm into a sling.

Which leads you to where you are now, back at your apartment, explaining to your mother why Nico can’t be at your beck and call.

“Honey, when are you going to realize that boy is in love with you? I’m telling you, the way I saw him look at you that day I came to visit, the skating lessons and dinners,” she starts, giving you her typical speech when you tell her Nico is just a friend.

“Mom, it doesn’t matter what you think you saw, we’re seriously just friends. And he’s busy, his schedule is too hectic to spend his time babysitting me,” you interrupt her, not wanting to hear her Nico speech for the thousandth time, regretting ever telling her about the skating lessons.

She sighs into the phone.

“I’m just trying to help you, you know…” you hear your mother start, but you tune the rest of her words out, focusing on the three loud knocks on your front door.

Your head turns to your door, the unexpected noise causing you to jump, the sudden motion tipping your bag over, the contents spilling all of your kitchen floor.

“Honey, are you alright? What was that?” your mom halts her one-sided conversation, worry in her tone.

“Shit!” you exclaim, watching the container of memory cards fly open, the small squares sliding across the linoleum floor.

You forget about the sling on your arm, crouching down and trying to reach for the cards with your bad arm, a searing pain shooting through your shoulder at the movement.

Letting out a loud yelp, you bring your arm back to its resting positing in the sling.

“Y/N, what’s going on? Did you hurt yourself?” you barely hear your mother’s voice through the phone speaker, not being able to think about anything other than the throbbing pain in your shoulder.

You hear three more pounds on your front door, this time a voice following the knocks.

“Y/N! Open up!”

You groan, trying to stand up, too many people trying to get your attention at the moment.

“Honey, talk to me. Is someone in there with you? I heard another voice,” your mother asks you as you stand, making your way over towards your front door.

“Someone’s knocking on the door,” you grit through your teeth, trying to think about anything but the pain in your shoulder. “I dropped my bag and tried to pick something up with my bad arm. I’m fine. Just hurts,” you tell her, opening your door to see a frantic Nico standing there.

His wide eyes scan your body, stopping once they see the sling on your arm.

You notice his wet hair and lack of socks on his tennis shoe covered feet.

“Are you okay? They told me you had to be taken to the hospital before the game started, but no one knew what really happened,” he rushed out, looking up at your face.

“Hey, Mom, gotta go, Nico’s at my door,” you tell her, a little stunned that the object of your conversation just appeared, hanging up the phone before she could make any comments about it.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?” you ask him, pointing towards his feet, an amused smile on your face. The shock of seeing him at your door making you completely forget about the pain in your shoulder.

Nico looks down at his own feet, looking back up at you with red cheeks.

“Oh, uh, I couldn’t find my socks after the game and i couldn’t get you to answer your phone, so I rushed over to the hospital to see if you were still there, and they told me you left about an hour ago, so I hopped in my car and came over here to make sure you were okay,” he tells you, not meeting your eye.

You’re shocked at his confession, not expecting him to be so concerned about your impromptu trip to the hospital.

“Well, I’m here and still standing,” you awkwardly stand in your doorway, not knowing what else to say, thinking about how if you weren’t arguing with your mom over Nico on the phone, you might have gotten his calls.

“Yeah, I see that now,” he shoves his hands in the pocket of his hoodie.

The two of you stand there, not really knowing what to say to one another.

“Do you want to come in?” you ask him, moving out of the doorway to let him step into your apartment.

Nico shakes his head yes and walks past you, looking towards the mess on the floor in your kitchen.

“What happened here? Is this the crash I heard?” he asks you.

“Yeah, the bag fell and spilled everything. When I went to pick it up, I forgot and used my bad shoulder,” you gesture to your slinged arm.

Nico shakes his head at you, crouching down to pick up the camera disks all over the floor.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to-“

“Well you’re sure as hell not trying to pick them up again,” Nico interrupts you, standing and placing the now full box of disks on your table.

You roll your eyes at him, walking over towards your fridge.

“So, what exactly happened? Jack told me you hurt your shoulder?” he follows you over to your fridge, watching you scan its contents, or lack thereof.

“Well, I was looking at my camera and skated right into a bunch of pucks on the floor, then was too focused on saving the equipment instead of remembering how to fall properly,” you told him, remembering his words during your first skate lesson, telling you not to catch yourself if you fall on the ice.

“See, I told you to just let yourself fall. Never try to catch yourself,” he echoes his words in your thoughts.

“Yeah, well, it’s a lot easier said than done,” you deadpan, shutting your fridge door and looking at Nico.

Your stomach growls at that exact moment, making you groan at your lack of food in your fridge, not having eaten since before your accident.

“When was the last time you ate anything?” Nico asks you, looking down at your growling stomach.

“Uhhh, breakfast?” you recall.

Nico’s eyes widen. “It’s almost midnight. Did they really not feed you at the hospital?” he asks you.

“Considering they were busy doing x-rays and scans to make sure nothing was broken or torn, no,” you walk over to your cabinets, finding them also bare.

“Alright, go sit down and I’ll order us something to eat,” Nico shoos you out of the kitchen, walking over and opening the drawer where you keep all of your takeout menus.

You wonder how he knows where your menus are, forgetting for a moment that he’s over at your apartment at least twice a week after your skating lessons. Sometimes more, the occasional movie night making its way into your weekly routine.

“What do you want? Sushi? Chinese? Burgers?” he questions, flipping through your menus.

For some reason, your brain chooses this moment to register how much you enjoy the sight of Nico in your kitchen, looking through your takeout menus and offering to order you dinner.

You think back to all the times he’s helped you make dinner, laughter filling every moment of your time together. You think about how he always wear his pjs when he comes over for a movie night, bringing a different chocolate candy to put in the popcorn each time. You think about how he somehow learned your coffee order without you ever telling him, bringing you a coffee every morning, even at away games.

You think about your mother’s words, and how you didn’t even have to ask Nico to come over tonight, or to give you skating lessons. You think about how you never have to ask Nico to do anything he does for you – which is a lot, you’re realizing – he just does it. He does it because he wants to, because he’s kind and caring and wants to spend time with you.

“Hello? Earth to Y/N, what do you want for dinner?” Nico snaps you out of your sudden revelation.

“Sorry, spaced out for a second. Must be the pain meds,” you tell him, knowing that your mind isn’t the least bit impaired right now.

“Okay, go sit down, we need to get some food in you then,” he fishes his phone out of his pocket, mumbling out “Can’t believe they pumped you full of meds on an empty stomach.”

You make your way to your couch, sitting down and taking your shoes off, making yourself as comfortable as you can.

You remove a stray piece of hair that fell onto your face, knowing how awful it must look.

When you fell on the ice, the claw clip that was holding your hair in its up-do broke, causing it to fan out over the cold, wet ice. Once you got to the hospital, you were put in and out of so many different machines, you can only imagine the tangled, matted mess it is.

You get up and go to your bathroom, finding your brush and trying to comb it out. The task proving to be difficult with only one hand. The tangles keep pulling your head back and hurting your tender scalp, but you keep trying, whimpering each time the brush gets stuck on a particularly bad tangle.

You don’t even hear Nico approach your bathroom, just a sigh and “I told you to sit down,” before the brush is taken from your hand and you see Nico’s reflection behind you in the mirror.

Without another word, he proceeds to brush your hair for you, ensuring every tangle is gone before setting the brush on your sink.

The two of you make eye contact in the mirror, neither one wanting to break the silence during the surprisingly intimate moment.

You clear your throat, looking down after the silence got too intense, causing Nico to avert his eyes as well.

“I really wish i could wash my hair, but i know that’s a no go tonight,” you chuckle, wishing your bathroom was a little bit bigger in this moment.

“I can braid your hair for you,” Nico starts, staring at you in the mirror, watching your eyes snap up to meet his. “I mean, only if you want,” he stutters out.

“Really?” you ask him, a little stunned.

“Yeah. I used to help Nina with hers all the time when I was younger,” Nico mentions his older sister, grabbing your hair lightly and starting to section it off. “Anytime she would have a sleep over I would always weasel my way into the party. So one day, she made me sit in a braiding chain and learn how to braid her hair.”

You let out a giggle, picturing a smaller version of Nico sitting at the end of a line of girls, braiding their long hair.

“Then, Nina claimed I got so good at it she always wanted me to braid her hair before her volleyball matches, then her friends all started wanting me to do theirs, too,” he continues talking, nearly lulling you to sleep with the soft movements of his hands as you listen to him speak.

“I think that’s adorable,” you quietly speak, closing your eyes.

“What can I say? When a pretty girl needs her hair braided, who am I to keep my skills to myself?” he jokes, making you wonder if he meant you or his sister’s friends.

“I’m sure it’s any little boy’s dream to have an entire volleyball team at his mercy, all those pretty volleyball players begging him to play with their hair,” you tease him, handing him the hair tie that you always keep on your wrist.

“I don’t know, I think playing with a pretty photographer’s hair is better, if you ask me,” he ties the hair tie around the bottom of the braid, reaching up to pull the braid loose, making sure it’s not too tight.

You keep your eyes closed, knowing he can likely see the redness on your cheeks at his words.

“Alright, eyes open. Need to make sure you like my work,” he places his hands on your biceps, making sure to keep his touch feather light on your bad arm.

He turns you around so you’re facing him, holding a handheld mirror that was laying on your sink in front of your face, allowing you to see the reflection of the braid.

You’re shocked to see the flawless Dutch braid that cascades down your back.

“Nico, you’re like…really good at this,” you reach your good hand to the back of your head, running it down the braid.

“Told you, I had a lot of practice,” he shrugs, setting the mirror down.

You yawn, the relaxing nature of having your hair braided allowing you to realize how tired you are from the day’s events.

“Nuh-uh, gotta keep you awake until we get some food in you,” he tuts, taking his hands and patting your cheeks.

You groan, leaning into his palms that stay resting on your face.

“C’mon, let’s get you changed and on the couch,” he motions for you to leave the bathroom.

You walk to your room, Nico helping you carefully remove your sling before leaving and giving you some privacy.

You change into your pajamas, somehow managing to get your arm into an oversized Devils shirt you found at the bottom of your drawer.

Nico is standing outside of your door when you open it, helping you back into your sling.

He stands in front of you, staring at you with a look that you can’t decipher.

“Is…everything okay?” you question him, noticing his stare after adjusting your sling.

His eyes snap up to you, seemingly unaware that he was even staring at you in the first place.

“Uh, yeah, sorry. I just- is that my shirt?” he asks you, pointing to your pj shirt.

You look down at the oversized shirt, trying to think of where you got it.

It had just showed up in your laundry basket one day, assuming it was one they gave you when you got your job, but Nico’s question makes you think harder.

You realize, suddenly, you do remember where you got it.

During one of your post lesson dinners, Nico had spilled his drink all over his shirt. You offered to wash it for him after he changed to a shirt in his duffel.

You meant to take it back to him after you washed it, but forgot about it entirely, packing it away in your pajama drawer.

“Oh, crap, it is. Do you want it back, I can go change?” you ask him, worried he’s upset that you forgot to give it back.

“No…no it’s fine. Keep it. I have plenty,” he shakes his head, glancing down at it once more.

The two of you make your way to your couch, finding something to watch on tv when there’s a knock on the door, signaling the arrival of your food.

You start to stand to go get it, but Nico sternly tells you to stay put.

Rolling your eyes you sit back down, grabbing the remote and continuing to channel surf.

Nico’s gone for longer than you expect, causing you to sit up and turn back towards your kitchen, wondering what’s taking him so long.

You see him walking over to you, a tray full of food in his hands.

He had ordered from your favorite sushi place, figuring it would be the easiest for you to eat one handed.

As he sat down the tray on the coffee table in front of you, you realized what took him so long.

Nico had put a toothpick in each piece of your sushi, knowing using chopsticks with your non dominant hand would have been hard for you. He poured soy sauce into a small container, allowing you to simply pick up each toothpick and dip it in the sauce before popping it in your mouth.

He had also ordered you a bottle of cherry coke, which he knew was your favorite, and placed it on the tray with the lid unscrewed and a straw peeking out of the bottle next to a glass of ice, just incase you wanted it that way instead.

You looked up at him, feeling that funny feeling in your chest like you did earlier in your kitchen, blown away at how he always seems to think of everything he can to help you out, even when you’re not injured.

You must’ve been looking for longer than you realized, because he cocks his head at you, confusion present on his face.

“What?” he asks, not understanding what’s wrong. “Did you not want sushi? I thought you said it was always the one thing that could cheer you up?”

You shake your head at him. “No, sushi is perfect,” you tell him, a small smile on your face as you look up at him.

He smiles back for a few moments, then started scooting the coffee table towards you so you don’t have to reach to grab your food. He moves around the table to sit beside of you, the size of the small table causing him to sit so close to you that you can feel the warmness of his large thigh against yours.

You once again think about all of the things he’s done for you without you even having to ask. Now including coming over after a game—no doubt exhausted and sore—and taking care of you without even thinking twice. Braiding your hair and calling you pretty. Staring at you unintentionally wearing his t-shirt. Modifying your food so it’s easier for you to eat with one hand.

You sit there, staring at the man you fear you’re falling in love with, already planning out the apology text you’re going to have to send your mom.

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fandom-imagines-stories · 1 month ago

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Fire Drill

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Words: 2020

Requested by Anon: Hi can you do one where the reader is pregnant and she comes to visit Hotch at work and when she’s getting ready to leave she trips on the last step and hotch and the team rush to her side and hotch force her to go to the hospital to get checked out

Notes: Okay, I know I don’t do requests, but this just seemed like such a nice break after finishing part one of The In-Betweens S3. I’m not opening requests, but thank you for sending this in because I had fun writing it. I’ve never written for Hotch before, so it was nice to branch out! I hope you like it.

More Criminal Minds: HERE

He hadn’t been expecting you, otherwise he would have told you not to come. It was chaos in the bullpen, FBI and CIA scrambling about to finish wrapping up the case- a rogue agent on a kidnapping spree to get information on his family’s deaths.

Aaron couldn’t help but pity him. The man’s wife and two daughters were killed in a car accident, but the nature of his work made him paranoid enough to convince him of foul play. And, while the CIA had been reluctant to cooperate, the working teams were able to reach a peaceful conclusion, the agent facing trial and the victims sent home to their families and lives.

You were surprised to find the BAU so busy. Of course, your husband hadn’t been allowed to disclose anything about the case, but you suspected it must have been big to require all this manpower.

“Mrs. Hotchner!” A friendly voice called over the commotion.

Agent Jareau’s smiling face appeared from a sea of serious scowls.

“JJ,” you smiled, relieved to finally see someone familiar. “What’s going on, Strauss’s retirement party?”

She laughed and made a face of ‘I wish.’

“Big case. Long story.” She took your hand to lead you through the wall of suits. “Hotch is in his office.”

“I think I see him.” You stood on your tiptoes to get a glimpse into the elevated office but there were just too many people. “Where’s the team?”

JJ laughed and pointed to the conference room. “Hiding.”

Sure enough, you could just spot the lanky form of Dr. Reid standing in front of the board, solving some long and complex equation. Agents Morgan and Prentiss were discussing something about the file in front of them and Dave Rossi looked like he just wanted to go home.

While you watched them, another agent barreled by you, hardly noticing that you were even there, let alone that they’d almost knocked you over. Stumbling back, you reached for something to grab onto.

A hand took hold of yours.

“Careful,” Aaron, despite his cautious tone, gave you a small smile. “It’s a circus in here.”

“So I noticed, Mr. Ringleader,” you beamed, kissing his cheek.

“Is everything okay? You didn’t tell me you were coming.” His eyes flicked down to your middle, worry growing with his words.

You held up a to-go bag with your free hand.

“Lunch emergency. Code red, Agent Hotchner.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, come on.” Keeping hold of your hand, he guided you through the mess to the somewhat quiet refuge of his office. He closed the door behind him, sighing with relief.

“You have no idea how nice it is to see you.”

“I should hope so.” You gave him a mock pout. “You’ve been holed up here for two days. I missed you.”

“I know.” He leaned down, kissing you sweetly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You rustled his hair. “Hence, lunch.” You set the bag of pasta on his desk. “Mariano’s.”

Aaron smiled, leaning his head back with a happy sigh. “You’re a saint.”

“I know.” You took the containers from the bag and placed them on his desk. “The team looks tired.” You handed him a fork.

“It’s been a long few days.” Aaron took on his serious work-voice. He gazed out over the bullpen. There was a tension you knew all too well built up in his shoulders. Like he held the weight of the world on them.

“Seems like it.” Tearing off a piece of garlic bread, you watched him watch the world. He stood there for a while before you gently grabbed his hand. “Aaron.” You brought his hand to your lips. “Eat.”

Like snapping out of a trance, your husband returned to himself, his eyes softening and the hard set of his mouth lifting into a smile.

Aaron moved his chair around his desk to sit beside you rather than across, his leg grazing yours. You passed him the garlic bread.

“So,” you started, popping a piece into your mouth, “anything not super-secret-classified about your day?”

He thought for a moment. “Reid recited three pages of Freud from memory, Garcia continues to scare me with her hacking ability and my beautiful wife brought me lunch.” His leg nudged yours again affectionately. “What about you?”

“Nothing special,” you shrugged. “I just got assigned the Brunner case.”

Aaron coughed, nearly choking on his chicken parm.

“The ADA’s giving it to you?”

Your face broke into a wide, excited smile. You nodded. “She said, and I quote ‘You’re the only one I trust to get that bastard behind bars.’” You beamed.

Aaron set his food aside and pulled you into his arms. “Sweetheart, that’s amazing.” He kissed your forehead, then your lips.

Your husband wasn’t one for PDA, so any exception always made you feel like a blushing schoolgirl.

“I start prep on Monday,” you said as he sat back again. “Then maybe you’ll be the one waiting up for me.” You stole a bite of his meal. “Lot of late nights in my future.”

His excitement slowly morphed into concern.

“Before you say anything, I already spoke with Dr. Brown, and she said I'll be fine as long as I still get plenty of rest.”

“And do you actually plan on getting plenty of rest?”

You raised a brow, teasing, “Are you the pot or the kettle in this scenario?”

He snorted. “Well, honey, I’m not four months pregnant.”

“I could still kick your ass in court and you know it, Agent Hotchner,” you smirked.

“I don’t doubt it.” He picked at his food, seemingly lost in pleasant thought.

You, content that you’d won the potential argument, glanced back out at the office. A harsh tension still hung in the air, the two agencies clearly not thrilled to share their success with the other. Familiar faces emerged from the other room, prompting your question.

“Have you told them yet?”

“Told who what?” Aaron asked, pretending to be more focused on his food than what was on his mind.

You rolled your eyes. “The team. About…” You pointed at your almost-showing belly.

“Oh.” He cleared his throat. “No.”

“You should.” You looked at Reid’s fidgeting hands and Prentiss’s tired frown. “They look like they could use some exciting news.”

He nodded but didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. You may not have been a profiler, but you knew your husband.

Telling them made it real. Real meant the real world. The real world meant danger. Danger meant loss. The longer you could both live in the beautiful, safe, fantasy world, the easier it seemed.

“Aaron-” You started, but were interrupted by an awful shrill mechanical shriek. You grimaced, putting your hands over your ears. “Don’t tell me there’s a fire drill.”

Aaron shook his head, worry settling into his expression.

“Stay close to me.”

You made no argument there. Regretfully abandoning your meals, Aaron kept an arm around you as you reentered the chaos. People were cramming around the staircase doors, shouting and grumbling at each other.

“So much for ‘calm and orderly fashion’,” you muttered.

Aaron gently tugged on your arm. “This way.”

One of the doors had a shorter line, but only slightly. By the time you made it through the door, the stairwell was packed with people hurrying down, paying no attention to the people around them. At some point, Aaron lost hold of your hand.

“Y/N?” He called out.

That’s when he saw you fall.

You didn't even see who ran into you. They just rammed into you from the side, pushing their way down the stairs. Your foot caught on the wall, your arms reeling for something to grab onto, but unlike last time, you weren’t fast enough. You tumbled forward. The people in front of you kept moving, leaving a set of hard stone stairs to break your fall.

“Y/N!” Aaron yelled.

You hit the ground and were pretty sure someone stepped on you. Catching yourself with your left hand, you felt a sudden, painful snap. You bit back the scream of pain, but it escaped nonetheless.

“Everybody move!” Aaron’s commanding, panicked voice took over the stairwell, joined by other voices.

“Mrs. Hotchner, are you okay?” Dr. Reid appeared in front of you. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

“It’s my wrist,” you winced, trying to move your fingers. “But I think I’m okay.”

Someone lifted you up.

“We need to get her to the hospital,” Aaron said. His dark eyes were wide and frantic and focused on you.

Morgan rushed by. “I’ll get the car.”

“Aaron, I’m okay,” you said again, but he ignored you.

“Prentiss, find out what’s going on,” he ordered. “There shouldn’t be a drill.” He feared the worst. This was planned. Someone was waiting outside to gun everyone down. Someone was after you.

“On it.” She hurried off as well.

“I didn’t get a chance to examine it fully, but it looks like it might be broken,” Reid added.

“Aaron-”

“You’re going to be okay.” He spoke more to himself than to you. “You’ll be okay.”

You were, in fact, fine. A broken wrist, sure, but all together could have been worse. But then came his second concern. One you could clearly see on his face as he spoke to the doctor.

“You really freaked him out,” Agent Prentiss said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this.”

“I told him everything was fine,” you sighed, laying a hand over your middle. You didn’t know how, but you could just tell everything was alright. It had to be. But he needed to be sure. “Thank you, Agent Prentiss. For getting to the bottom of it all.”

“Please, call me Emily.” She smiled. “He must have thought it was something planned and sinister.”

Someone had put a fork in the microwave. Apparently, agents are definitely not geniuses. Except for Dr. Reid, of course.

You laughed. “The dangers of your job, huh?”

She shrugged.

A moment passed.

“So are you going to tell everyone?” She blurted.

Your mouth fell open.

Emily raised a brow. “It isn’t hard to guess by the way he looked at you. And you haven’t taken your arms off your stomach since you got here.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms fully. “Profilers.”

She laughed and put a hand on yours. “I’m sure everything is fine.”

Aaron walked into the room with the seriousness he usually reserved for cases. But when he looked at you, he let out a sigh of relief.

“Dr. Brown said everything is fine.”

“I told you.”

You wouldn’t admit it, but for a second you were terrified. But seeing him happy and relieved made it all go away.

He was at your side in seconds, kissing the top of your head.

“You thought Brunner was after me, didn’t you?” You asked, realizing why he’d been so interested in the alarm.

“It crossed my mind.”

“Yeah, well,” you gripped his tie and pulled his lips to yours. “He’s going to have to try harder than a spoon in the microwave.”

“That’s not funny.”

You kissed him again. “It’s a little funny.”

The whole team was waiting, each looking more worried than the last.

“Guys, I didn’t get shot,” you teased. You held up the cast on your arm for emphasis.

“We know.” Reid gulped, fidgeting with his sleeve. “You just seemed to fall pretty hard and-”

“We just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” JJ said.

You peered at each of them and put your good hand on your hip.

“Alright, how many of you know?”

The pretend confusion on their faces told you all you needed. You cast an exasperated look at your husband.

“Damn profilers.”

The group laughed. Dave gave you a hug and Morgan shook Aaron’s hand.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Hotchner.” Dr. Reid said, smiling through his usual timidness. He turned to Hotch. “I’m really happy for both of you.”

“Thank you, Reid,” Aaron said. The two embraced, the sight warming your heart.

You wrapped your arms around your husband. Aaron kissed your temple.

And you would be okay.

#criminal minds imagines #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #thomas gibson

579 notes · View notes

keeksandgigz · 10 months ago

Text

somewhere we can be alone

stage manager!eddie munson x theatre kid!fem!reader

a collab with @reidsbtch- mariah is literally the best person to collab with, it's like our brains were making out the whole time we were writing this. thank u for letting me collab with you to write this absolutely not self indulgent, way too long fic together <3

summary: Now on the tail end of graduating, Eddie Munson is required to take part in an extracurricular activity. He's assigned as stage manager for the school's production of Romeo and Juliet. You, the star of the show, aren't too happy to have your senior performance sabotaged by one long- haired metalhead.

word count: 7.7k words

warnings: no y/n, no physical description of reader, swearing, oral (m & f receiving), enemies to fuck buddies to lovers, mentions of queer!reader, it's actually just fucking smut, fingering, unprotected piv (wrap it up), cream pie, use of nicknames (baby, sweets, sweetheart etc), eddie being a stupid lovable idiot

This and all of mine and mariah's works are 18+ minors do NOT interact

He’s been slumped in the guidance counselor’s office for thirty minutes, the wooden chair digging into his bones, growing uncomfortable as he listens to her, hardly believing he’s so close to leaving this fucking school himself.

“You’re keeping up your grades and maintaining regular attendance, Eddie. You’re just missing one last thing to be able to graduate.”

He rubs his face, maybe from the lack of sleep, or the restlessness of finally being able to leave the office he spent way too much time in during the past six years, as long as he keeps showing up to school for the next two months. He groans regardless.

“What would this ‘last thing’ be? Am I gonna be sent on a quest to slay a fucking dragon? Is that what’s gonna take me to graduate?” He snaps, the lack of sleep has finally gotten to him– school doesn’t really appeal to his late bird nature.

The counselor gasps at the crudeness of the profanity “Language!” She exclaims, like he’s never heard that before, daring to swear in front of students, staff and faculty alike, but the blonde lady with the ridiculously coiffed and teased and sprayed hair composes herself again, jutting a look down to his student folder again.

He imagines it to be full of red pen marks, every single one of those a proof of his own failure. He’ll steal it the day he graduates– and set it on fire. Hell, he’ll even roast marshmallows on it.

“Anyways,” she explains in a way that really shows the massive stick up her ass that makes her think Eddie should just stop bothering with school altogether. “You have to partake in an extracurricular activity.”

And he chortles. He was thinking something dreadful like picking trash up at the park or feeding and bathing the old people at the retirement home.

“Something funny, Mr. Munson?” Her nostrils are flared, she can’t wait ‘til he leaves her office.

“So like- like drama club and shit?” His tone is incredulous, he can deal with a couple lines to memorize. He’s had to do way worse for his Dungeon Master role, and even then, Miss George likes him– she’s let him and the club play DnD in her room for the past two years. Should be easy.

The counselor takes her glasses off her pointy nose, letting them hang with a tacky pink, flowery chain around her neck. “Well, yes– that’s one of the options. Unfortunately, your GPA is not high enough for you to partake in the school play, per se, so I can only place you in the backstage crew– building sets and moving things around. We’ll put that brain of yours to work.” She chuckles as she hands him a slip of paper to give to Miss George.

Eddie picks up his bag, “Real funny, huh.” He shrugs his shoulders and heads to the school auditorium. Last time he was there he’d gotten caught by a custodian while Terry Richardson’s face was stuck in between his legs, trousers pulled down halfway down his thighs as she gave him a toothy blowjob. He got suspended for a week.

He sees Miss George sat in the audience, scribbling notes onto a notepad as you recite the famous balcony monologue from Romeo and Juliet. He knows you, he’s seen you around– you’re by no means in the popular crowd, but you stand out, in the way that your clothes always seem to border the fine line of what's socially acceptable and outrageously eccentric.

Even if you’re not part of the popular crowd, there’s no denying that, like the rest of the school, you avoid him like the plague, cute as he is. You interrupt your monologue as you see him smirk down the central aisle of chairs. Miss George turns around at the sudden interruption. Eddie just hands her the slip.

“Oh my goodness!” she coos, “We have a stage manager.” And he wishes he could have photographed the look on your face. “Stage manager?! Miss George, you can’t be serious!” You exclaim as Eddie takes a seat next to her, kicking his boots up on the back of the chair in front of him.

A smirk ever present on his face as he crosses his arms over his chest, raising an eyebrow at you. “He doesn’t have any experience.” You continue, not about to have your senior year performance ruined by Eddie Munson of all people. “Shouldn't be that hard to keep a diva like yourself in line, hmm?”

Eddie answers before Miss George has a chance to, the theater now going quiet except for a few snickers from the tech crew. “Alright, that’s enough from the both of you. Eddie, I’ll have our ASM get you up to speed. Now, please continue with the monologue.” The male only grins wider as you glare back, before looking back down at your script with a sigh.

He ventures backstage– not sure what ASM stands for and maybe too embarrassed to ask as he sees kids dressed in black moving wooden planks onto the stage, carrying cans of paints and brushes.

He taps a kid on his shoulder, arranging a prop table, he looks at Eddie like he’s seen a ghost.

“I was looking for the ASM?” The kid is looking side to side, still wondering why Eddie Munson is talking to him.

“Uhhh, she’s in the booth.” He mutters, before turning around and going back to his props. What the fuck is a booth?

Eddie just plainly decides to look for it himself, since nobody’s any fucking help in this school. He opens door after door- a storage closet, a closet just for wood, a bathroom. Arrived at the last door, he isn’t exactly sure he’s ever going to find this stupid ASM- and he still doesn’t know what that stands for.

The noise of a door opening startles you, as you try to put on your dress as quickly as you can to avoid flashing someone. It’s only when you see who it is that you start screaming, and with you, Eddie just pops a hand in front of his eyes, screaming a string of sorries, and that he hasn’t seen anything.

“I was just looking for the booth! Stop screaming!” he screeches, worried he’s gonna get himself in trouble with Miss George if she hears you screaming like you’re getting skinned alive. Thankfully, you stop, as Eddie looks away, aware of your exposed back peeking through the zipper. You clutch the fabric against you, struggling to zip up the back of your dress one-handed.

Eddie makes a whistling sound, distracting himself from the way you seem to be teetering between asking for his help and telling him to fuck off.

“The door to the booth is in the audience, by the way. Off to the side, there’s some stairs.” You huff, slightly getting your zipper up. He goes to turn around, but you stop him. He cocks an eyebrow.

You roll your eyes, lips in a thin line as you keep the door open with one hand.

“Can you make yourself useful and help me with my zipper?”

With an annoyed huff he steps fully into the dressing room, shutting the door behind him as you turn your back towards him once more. Carefully clutching the dress, your eyes meeting his in the long row of vanity mirrors in front of you. You can feel his warm breath on your neck as he steps closer, carefully lifting your hair over your shoulder.

Eddie’s fingers follow the seam of the unzipped garment, barely tracing the bare skin of your back. You try to hold off the shiver from passing through you as he slowly begins zipping it up. A hint of a smirk on his mouth as he notices the goosebumps breaking out across your skin. “Anything else princess? Or am I free to go?”

His fingers now fall away from you, clearing your throat as you try to shake off the arousal that was now coursing through your veins. You wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction of knowing how frazzled he had just made you.

Instead of answering, you just groan, eyes lifted up, going past him and clocking him in the shoulder as you headed back on stage. God you were fucking insufferable.

Eddie finds out that ASM means Assistant Stage Manager and that said ASM was none other than Max Mayfield, roped into doing theatre tech for extra credit. And that the booth was where they tampered with the lights and shit. All he had to do as Stage Manager for that rehearsal was oversee the light cues, which proved to be a little more complicated than he initially expected.

He messes up most of the cues in the first act before he finally seems to have gotten a grasp of it. All the while you’re tossing glares his way, using the light cues as an excuse for the harsh looks. But really it’s due to your annoyance at how the mere brush of his fingertips left you wanting more. Wanting more of him, despite your better judgment– you were not about to have him ruin your senior show.

And in spite of that, you closely follow Eddie’s actions. In a lull between scenes he stands up, you follow him with your eyes as he enters back into the auditorium, beelining backstage.

Eddie’s not totally sure what shit designer built the theatre, because he might as well have pissed himself on the way between the booth and the only bathroom in the auditorium. Not only that, but he kept missing cue after cue, followed by the dirtiest looks known to man, straight into his eyes. After the encounter you had in the dressing room– fingers caressing the soft skin of your back, feeling you shiver under his touch, he knew he had some kind of leverage over you.

So when he’s done taking a leak and looks down at the door, he’s sure you’re behind it, slipping a little piece of paper in the crack.

Meet me in the booth after rehearsal. XX

Eddie wouldn’t say he was nervous, his curiosity was piqued more than anything. However, he’s antsy the last half of the show, leg bouncing as he tries to listen and follow Max’s instructions. The girl gives him an annoyed lecture in between cues. But his mind’s a little preoccupied, trying to figure out what exactly you want from him.

So when he re-enters the dark light booth once everyone else has left, he doesn’t expect you to shove him up against the door, locking it with a swift click. His breath hitches in his throat, both in confusion, and at the fact that you’re fumbling with his belt, despite the dirty looks you’ve been giving him the whole afternoon.

“What uh- what are you doing?” His tone is alarmed, stammering as he tries to grab onto the door handle for purchase. You’re too busy getting his jeans down to bother.

“Sucking you off. That okay?” You look at him for a reassurance that comes almost immediately with a violent nod of his head.

He’s confused, but he’s not going to turn you down. After all, he felt the way you tensed under his touch while he was pulling up your zipper, “Shit, fine by me.” He shrugs, acting like he isn’t busting at the seams waiting for you to pull down his pants.

Eddie’s belt makes a clinking sound, along with his wallet chain while you pull his pants down to his thighs. You move his trembling body away from the door, against the table with the light console. His knuckles turn white as he grabs the edges on the table for support.

Gripping the hem of his checkered boxers, freeing his hardened length. Your eyes widening slightly at the sight of it, he’s big— a lot bigger than you expected. Even in the dim lighting he notices your shocked expression.

“Ya gonna just stare at it all night sweetheart?” He asks, a smug smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he looks down at you. You shoot another glare his way, before grasping the base of his cock in your fist, licking a long stripe up the shaft. Feeling satisfied as you hear his shaky intake of breath. Eagerly you take him past your lips, as a low groan leaves his own.

“Shit,” he curses as your warm mouth envelops him fully, ringed fingers knotting themselves in your hair. You open your mouth as wide as you can, taking him deeper. Gagging slightly as he hits the back of your throat, tears brimming in the corner of your eyes as you try to adjust to his size. He’s by far the biggest one you’ve had.

“Talked such a big game with that mouth of yours sweetness, am I too much for you?” Your fingers dig into the skin of his thighs, his cock slipping from your lips as you pull back.

“Do you ever shut the fuck up Munson?” You huff, but before he can reply with another snarky remark your tongue is swirling around the tip of his cock. Silencing him for a moment as you take him back into your mouth.

Another string of curses falls from his lips, as his hips begin thrusting into your mouth with an abandon you haven’t seen before. Your cheeks are hollowed and he can feel himself getting embarrassingly close.

“F-fuck where- where’d you learn all of this?” It comes out in broken pants, and he can feel a smirk forming on your lips as you take him out a second time.

“One thing about theatre people is that we’re all gonna fuck each other. You should see how I eat pussy,” you shrug, putting him back in your mouth, and Eddie swears he’s about to bust in less than a minute.

“I’m gonna- fuck.” But he doesn’t get to finish that sentence, as you take him out of your mouth and stand back up.

Eddie’s bewildered expression is easy to read as he looks at you like you shot his dog. But you get close, dangerously close to his lips, your nose almost bumping his.

“That’s for fucking up my light cue, idiot,” it’s a feeble whisper against his lips before you’re gone into the darkness of the theatre. Too shocked to react, Eddie’s left with his pants pulled down for a good two minutes before registering what happened.

So he’s left blue balled in that stupid light booth, fuming and confused. There was no way in hell he would let you treat him like that and walk away the way you did.

Eddie had been scheming all week between rehearsals, attempting to find a good time to get you alone. He wasn’t about to let you get away with leaving him like that, but you were actively avoiding him.

But an opportunity fell into his lap without any effort on his part, Miss George asking you to stay behind to work on some blocking with her. As the stage manager he was required to stay behind too, his mind already reeling with possibilities.

So when you duck behind the curtain to change out of your costume, Eddie is quick to swoop in. Offering to shut down the lights and lock up, and Miss George is more than willing to let him.

By the time you get back on stage the theater is dark, the ghost light shining brightly center stage. “Eddie? Miss George?” You call out into the darkness, getting complete silence in return.

“Oh you’ve got to be fucking kidding.” You groan, clutching the strap of your book bag tightly. Of course he’d leave you in the dark theater to fend for yourself. “Asshole.” You mumble under your breath, reaching your hand out in front of you as you make your way across the dark stage.

You’ve bumped into multiple set pieces at this point, as you attempted to find the stairs leading down to the audience in complete darkness. Your frustration grows with each passing minute, that is until you hear the shuffling of feet.

“Hello?” You call out again, squinting as if it would help you see any better. Fear stirs in your gut as the theater is silent once more, shadows seeming to come to life in the corner of your eyes.

Once you finally reach the edge of the stage, you grip onto the railing tightly as you fumble your way down the stairs. Sighing in relief as you feel the carpet beneath your feet.

You only make it a few steps further before you feel a hand snaking around your waist, pulling you back into a hard chest. The other hand cupping itself over your mouth to muffle the scream that leaves your lips.

“Screaming for me already sweets? Haven’t even touched you yet.” His voice is mocking, his warm breath fanning across your neck as he laughs. You quickly squirm out of his grasp, a flashlight clicking on to illuminate his stupidly gorgeous features.

“You fucking psychopath! What were you thinking?” you shove him on the shoulder, he laughs as he zeroes in the flashlight on you, red in the face and furious.

“Had to get back at you for how much of a little tease you were the other day,” he croons. You purse your lips together, a deep blush spreading across your cheeks as you try to stabilize your still quickly beating heart.

“Whatever. Fuck you, Eddie.” You spit, but he’s quick to grab your arm and push it behind your back, the flashlight hitting the ground and rolling under one of the seats. His chest is pressed against your shoulder blades as you shudder in his arms.

“You’re not getting away so easily, sweetness.” He breathes against your earlobe as you keen into the warmth of his chest, his nose buried in the crook of your neck as his free hand goes to your waist.

“This okay?” he murmurs, and you nod. A sharp nip to your earlobe makes you hiss.

“I can’t fucking see you nod, can I?” You can tell he’s having too much fun torturing you, feeling his hand travel all across your torso and chest.

“N-No,” you whimper.

“Exactly. Try that again,” his hand rests against the waistband of your jeans, awaiting an answer, teasing the skin behind the fabric. The tips of his fingers brush the skin there, making you whimper in response.

“This is okay.” you breathe out, and it’s the only answer he needs to slip his hand past your jeans, unbuttoning the offending material to push his hand further down into your pants.

“That’s a good girl,” he whispers against your ear as his hand cups your clothed core. You waste no time grinding against the heel of his palm, letting small, breathy moans escape you. Afraid to get caught in the dead of night getting touched and fondled by the town pariah.

“You sound so pretty singing for me, don’t you sweets?” he whispers smugly. His hand feels a little too good against you, your hips grinding back and forth following the rhythm he was creating, “Hmm, but I think you can be a little louder.”

You gasp as he slips his hand inside your panties, his calloused fingers encircling your swollen clit. Your head falls back onto his shoulder, your hand gripping onto his thigh. His digits dip lower, teasing your entrance before slipping one inside and curling them up.

You can’t stop the shaky cry from leaving your lips, the sound now filling the auditorium. A smirk tugs at his mouth, using the heel of his palm to press against your clit. “Listen to that… you’ve got such a pretty voice don’t you?”

You dig your nails into the denim covering his thigh, a low groan sounding in his throat. “Wonder what it sounds like when you beg,” he easily adds another finger inside your wet cunt, thrusting them deeper. “N-Never gonna happen Munson.”

Eddie laughs, pulling another moan from you as his other hand drifts up under your shirt to cup your breast. “We’ll see about that.”

His breath is fanning hot and humid against your neck as you reach around to bring his head closer, needing him to be closer.

Nothing he’s saying is registering in your brain, as his fingers pump in and out of you with a torturous pace, feeling his wolfish grin plastered against the skin of your cheek.

He’s watching your every move, your every breath and whimper, biting his lip at the way your eyes roll to the back of your head every time his fingers curl up in a certain manner. You don’t think you have much time left before you release yourself all over his hand, and he knows it.

From the way you keep twitching and tightening around his fingers, he feels you’re getting close, but much like you did that night in the booth, he won’t let you get it that easily.

“Y’close sweets?” he groans, his own hips now grinding against the swell of your ass.

“Uh-huh,” is all you can manage to say, brain scrambled from his words and ministrations.

“You know what you gotta do now, don’t you, pretty?” he bites at the hinge of your jaw, as you cry out, the noise echoing in the empty theatre.

“You gotta beg for it.” And he hears you gasp at that, a dry chuckle leaves his lips. “You didn’t think I was gonna make you cum that easy did you?”

“Mmm- fuck you, Munson.” you struggle against your brain’s desire to one up him and your body’s desire for release.

“C’mon, don’t you want to cum? I bet you’re so pent up from a whole day of staring at me building sets, aren’t you?” and he’s right, your eyes did wander to his arms in his tight fitting t-shirt, with his hair tied up in a low bun as he hammered nails into wooden boards.

His fingers speed up and you can feel it, you’re so, so close.

“Please, let me,” you whine into his arm, biting at the muscle there. You’re getting so loud.

“That’s right, keep begging for me– good girl gettin’ nice and loud for me,” it’s a growl at this point, a string of please please please follow it. Tears pricking at your eyes with how intensely good he’s making you feel.

So close, so close–

He removes his fingers, jerking you out of that hazy state you were previously in. The male now removes himself from you, retrieving the flashlight from under the seat. Your chest is heaving as you turn to face him, anger now coursing through you as he grins devilishly down at you.

“How cute, you thought I was actually gonna let you cum with how you left me the other day?” Eddie’s laughter fills the theater as he steps closer to you. Your bodies almost touching, lifting his fingers that were just inside you up to your lips.

The brunette carefully drummed the digits against your mouth, “Now, be a good girl and clean up the mess you made.” You glare as you let his fingers slip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them in a teasing manner.

You noticed how his breath hitches, his cock straining uncomfortably in his jeans. But there’s no way that you’re helping him out with his little problem now. You playfully bite his fingers that are still in your mouth, as he utters an annoyed ‘ouch’ before taking them back out.

His fingers make their way to your scalp– yanking at the hair, making you hiss. “You think you’re fucking cute? I’ll see you tomorrow after rehearsal,” his tone makes you tremble, as he takes his hand out of your hair and disappears into the darkness of the theatre, leaving you once again in the dark.

You stumble down the side stairs of the stage and get out of the side door, quickly making your way home.

And it becomes a regular thing, you and Eddie blue balling each other to the point of frustration, like it’s a sick and twisted power game you both play. After rehearsal he offers to lock up for Miss George and you wait for him in one of the dressing rooms, or in the dimly lit booth. He’s become irritable, and you have as well.

If you were insufferable before, now you’re downright hateful as you yell at the light crew to stop messing up your spotlight moment, or that your costume felt too constricting or your prop too flimsy.

Everything has you on edge, but you don’t hesitate to meet Eddie every night that week after rehearsal. Maybe he’ll let you cum this time.

You wait for him backstage, sitting on one of the set pieces, a throne. There’s a dim overhead light shining on you. Eddie’s lip is caught between his teeth as he looks at you on his Dungeon Master throne.

“Get up.” he commands. The shirt he’s wearing is tight, it makes his shoulders look more prominent. You squeeze your legs together.

“Why should I? My legs are tired from being on my feet all rehearsal,” you give him a fake pout as he inches towards you.

“Because that’s my Dungeon Master throne,” it sounds funny coming out of his mouth, voice low and gravelly “It’s mine.”

You chuckle a bit at that, how is this man being territorial over a set piece?

“And what if I said no?” a smile trapped in between your teeth, looking up at him through your lashes.

A dry laugh escapes him as he crosses his arms, “You’re so spoiled huh? Think you can always get your way? Last time I checked, this week it’s been the total opposite, hasn’t it?” and he’s not wrong, he’s given you all but what you want.

“This is my theatre, Munson. I believe you’re on my turf.” and he laughs at that, like you’ve said some kind of joke.

“You do theatre, sweetheart, c’mon you can’t be serious.” he kneels in front of you, grabbing your thighs and moving them apart with ease.

“Don’t be a bitch, Munson.” you hiss, as you feel his lips on your exposed thighs, kissing the skin there.

He whistles, low and sardonic. A wicked smile on his lips “That’s rich coming from you, you’ve had that nasty little attitude this whole week.” he continues with his kisses, while his hand ghosts over your inner thigh. Your breath hitches in your throat.

“I wouldn’t have this nasty little attitude as you call it if you would just let me- fuck.” his free hand ghosts over your panties. Your skin is sensitive, your brain is sensitive. Another touch and you might explode.

“Hmmm, what was that?” he bites at the flesh of your thigh, a high pitched whimper falling from your lips “Need me fuck that little attitude out of you sweetheart?”

And you’ve been wound up so tight for the past week that it doesn’t take you long to rid yourself of your panties. He takes advantage of you standing up, plopping down to take his rightful seat on the throne.

That cocky smirk is adorning his features, but you wanted to smack it off. “As cute as you think you look in this seat… it’s always been my throne sweets.”

Before Eddie has time to mutter another snarky remark you’re climbing into his lap, crashing your mouth against his. You’ve learned throughout the past week that it’s really the only way to shut him up.

His ringed fingers dig into the curve of your hips, eagerly grinding yourself against the bulge in his pants. Eddie moans into your mouth, his tongue licking your lower lip. You part your lips, allowing him entry as your tongues fight for dominance.

He tastes like Twizzlers and cigarettes, a combination you shouldn’t find as delicious as you do. But it only seems to make you needier, the denim becoming damp as you continue to grind yourself onto him.

“Look at you making a fucking mess on my jeans,” he mumbles against your mouth, nipping at your lower lip which causes you to whine as he pulls away. His chest rumbles as he chuckles, grabbing your cheeks in his hand— forcing you to look at him.

“But I’d rather you make a mess on my cock sweetheart.” His words have your head reeling, the male now gripping behind your knees and lifting you up. You squeal in surprise, clutching onto his shoulders to steady yourself. “Eddie, put me down.”

He carefully lets you slide down his front until your feet touch the ground, spinning you around before bending you over the armrest of his throne. His hands travel up your bare thighs, taking his time to appreciate your soft skin.

“Are you going to fuck me or not Munson?” You huff, the male now flipping up your skirt and landing a harsh smack on your ass. “So goddamn impatient aren’t you?”

You hear the sound of his belt clinking open, the zipper being tugged down. It makes you clench your thighs together, something Eddie didn’t miss. His fingers dipping between your legs, teasing you further.

“Trained you well didn’t I baby?” You can’t stop your eyes from rolling, despite how your stomach flipped at the word baby.

And you can feel him then, carefully lining himself at your entrance as you try to grind back into him. A firm hand against your hips stops you. “Ready? I’m gonna go slow,” he mutters, and there’s a gentleness in his words, despite his meanness in how he’s handling you.

You hum in approval and brace yourself. There’s a loud groan coming from behind you as he slips inside your warm heat, reveling in how you almost suck him in, a small gasp leaving you from the stretch.

“Big stretch, huh?” he coos in a cocky lilt, and you almost wanna reach around and punch him, but this idiot has your eyes rolling back from the fullness, and he’s not even all the way in yet.

So you nod, followed by a needy little whine that makes him chuckle low in his chest– you need him that much?

He goes deeper, spurred on by your noises, by how much you need him to fill you up. A sardonic smile on his lips as he bottoms out and slams all the way in, causing you to shriek.

Eddie sets a fast pace, not really giving you any time to adjust, but he’s already nudging that spot deep within you, making you see stars.

You hear him groan, “So fuckin’ tight, aren’t you sweets?” and it’s a rhetorical question, because your tongue feels too big for your mouth and there’s nothing coming out of it besides unintelligible whines and moans as you hold on to the armrest across from you.

Your noises only encourage him to go faster, and it’s almost too much the way he’s hitting that sweet spot inside you. You try to distance yourself from him, just enough to catch your breath, but he grabs your shoulders, using them as leverage to ram deeper into you.

He leans over, his clothed chest against your back, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

“Goin’ somewhere, baby? Thought you could handle me.” He bites at your earlobe, and there’s just so much going on in your brain that you can’t possibly muster any response to whatever he’s telling you.

“Oh I said that, didn’t I? When we first met. I said I could handle a spoiled little diva like you, and look at that,” he laughs, and you’re sure you’re about to combust. Your fingers reach to grip the cushioned seat of the throne, as another wail leaves your lips.

“Singin’ my praises now aren’t you baby?” The wood of his throne digs into your hips and stomach as he pushes you further into it, a feline movement as he drapes himself off and over you, his hands now gripping the armrest opposite of you for purchase.

Your legs begin to give out, as you beg God or whatever entity up there that he won’t give into his sick little game. That he’ll let you cum this time.

“Shit, sweets, you’re gripping me so tight.” he grunts, a boyish grin on his face as small uh uh uhs fill the room.

“Should we let you cum tonight? We can’t have you being a bitch tomorrow, it’s the end of hell week,” he jokes, and it almost feels humiliating, how he can make fun of you like this and you’re just going to keep fucking yourself back onto him.

“God- Fuck- Please!” you beg, with all the strength you can muster, and he can’t help but let a satisfactory grunt leave his lips.

“Look at you begging, don’t even have to ask now, do I?” and you can feel him twitch inside you. He’s also getting close.

“Ready?” he huffs, with the last little bit of stamina he has, and you can’t brace yourself enough for the wave of pleasure that washes over you with the last few snaps of Eddie’s hips as you come undone with a loud cry, echoing through the dark halls of the theatre.

“Fuck, okay, where should I–” he begins, he’s at his wits end.

“In…side,” is all you can say before he stills himself inside of you, letting his release take over him with a loud groan. His warm cum painting your inner walls, leaving you feeling satiated.

Eddie stabilizes his breath, forehead leaning against your shoulders, days on days of pent up frustration hanging like mist in the air. You’re both able to think clearly for the first time in what felt like forever.

“Jesus Christ,” he huffs, lifting himself off of you as he slowly slips his cock out. You can feel his cum beginning to drip down your thighs, your legs wobble as you attempt to stand. Knees buckling as you try and find your discarded panties.

“Whoa there, I got ya,” he wraps his arm around your waist, holding you against his warm chest. It felt good, leaning against him like that. But you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, “I’m fine Eddie.”

You push yourself off only to nearly fall once more, an annoyed grumble leaving his lips, “Are you always so stubborn?” He reaches down for your panties, guiding you to sit on the edge of the throne so he could help pull them up your thighs.

It was an unusually tender action, and not one that you expected from him. “Thought you didn’t want me sitting here?” You tease, his brown eyes glancing up as he’s kneeling before you.

“I’ll let it slide this one time,” he chuckles, the corner of his mouth lifting in a grin. A dimple you had never noticed before indenting his cheek, another feature that now found annoyingly attractive.

You roll your eyes at him and stand up, “Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow after rehearsal.” You quip, as you try to wobble off the stage, he runs after you.

“There’s no way in hell I’m letting you walk home like this,” and there’s a tender look in his eyes, something close to genuine concern. “My van is out front, I can drive you.” He points in a general direction behind him, and you want to say no so badly.

But you don’t, and now you find yourself being driven home by Eddie. His dingy van smells like cigarettes and weed and it squeaks every time he goes over a bump. There’s loud music blaring through the stereo speakers and an uncomfortable silence between the two of you.

“So uh, you excited for next week?” Eddie’s the first to break the silence, briefly turning towards you.

“I’m actually kinda nervous,” you admit, sinking into the seat. “It’s a big role, big shoes to fill. I guess I’m just scared I’m not gonna be any good.” You chuckle, almost embarrassed at your admission.

“You? Not good? I’ve seen you, y’know? I’m not just staring at your tits during rehearsal. You’re pretty darn good.” He gives you a half smile at that, pulling up next to your house.

You’re a bit flustered by his compliments, finding yourself not wanting to leave his company just yet.

“Thanks, Eddie. I appreciate it,” you smile at him.

“And hey, if you still feel nervous opening night come find me— I’ll help you,” he winks at you and you can’t help but laugh, as you see him looking at you with a big grin on his face.

You look at him back, and God, maybe it’s the streetlights or the moon, but he’s never been more beautiful. In a leap of courage you lean over the dashboard and peck him on the lips.

As you detach from him and reach for the door handle, he pulls you back in deeper, searing and intense, one of those kisses that have your tummy flipping. Except it’s not in the comfort of the theatre, and without an underlying motive behind it.

Just you and him. In his van.

You let your lips part, give him access to your mouth, but he stops you.

“It’s midnight,” he whispers against your lips. “Dress rehearsal tomorrow, you need to rest.” He smiles as you place another peck on his lips. Pouting as you reach for the door handle. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you until you’re inside, seeing the light of your room turn on.

Once he knows you’re safe, he starts his van back up and pulls away from your house with the cheesiest grin on his face.

Opening night. It’s finally here.

You should feel excited, and yet all you want to do is lock yourself in one of the broom closets and hide. You’ve never felt so nervous before, thinking of all the different outcomes that could occur. What if you forget all your lines? Or you have an embarrassing wardrobe malfunction during a quick change?

Your mind is reeling as you enter the dressing room, the rest of the cast buzzing excitedly around you. You fake a smile and sit at your station, noticing the bouquet of lilies resting on the counter top. You can feel yourself flushing, opening the card that came with it.

Break a leg Juliet xx.

You ask around the rest of the cast but no one knows who left them, and while you hoped they came from a certain metalhead… you couldn’t be so sure. Your little cat and mouse game had suddenly turned into something very real, and part of you was afraid it would be over once the curtains closed.

You get ready for the show in a daze, now staring at yourself in the dressing room mirror as nerves rage through your insides. The rest of the cast had dissipated, leaving you alone with your racing thoughts.

“There’s the leading lady,” Eddie’s voice snaps you out of your haze, meeting his eyes in the mirror’s reflection. He must have noticed the look of panic across your features, as he rushes to your side.

You give him a weak smile in return, letting a heavy exhale escape past your lips.

“So uhhh, did you like the flowers?” He asks, and he can see your eyes light up in the mirror, momentarily forgetting nerves, fear and anxiety.

“So it was you,” he coaxes you to face him, kneeling next to you with a large grin.

“T’was I, fair maiden.” He does a half bow from his kneeling position, making you giggle.

“So you’re in love with me now?” You tease, as Eddie’s hands come to rest on your thighs, spreading them as much as he can in your dress before moving in between them.

“I’m literally going to die from nerves, what if I mess up my lines?” you begin, but Eddie seems to have much different plans.

“There she is….” he murmurs, more to himself.

You feel the heat pool in your middle at his words, squirming a little in your seat. Eddie reaches to cup your chin, tilting it down so you meet his gaze. His brown eyes sparkling with mischief, “You know, my offer still stands Lady Capulet.”

“Here? The doors are literally opening in fifteen minutes, don’t you have stage manager things to take care of?” your tone is alarmed, rather, a mix of alarm and excitement.

“My job as stage manager right now is to make sure Juliet feels comfortable enough to go on stage,” he grins, peppering kisses over your hand and wrist.

“But what if we get caught? Or you make me cum so hard I forget my lines?” The nerves make you ramble, as his chin rests on one of your thighs.

“As good as I am at eating you out sweetheart, I doubt that’ll happen.” He bunches the fabric of your costume up your thighs, beginning to give sweet caresses on the skin of your legs.

You seem unconvinced, still.

“Look, I’ll sweeten the deal. If you get all your lines right, which I don’t doubt you will, I’ll take you out on a date.” His lips are pursed in a coy smile.

Your eyes widen, “Like a date date? You and me?” and your heartbeat picks up.

“Who else, idiot?” Eddie laughs, which makes you smile, “Now,” he begins.

“Do you want me to do something about those jangled nerves of yours?” And you can’t help but bite your lip and nod.

His lips begin trailing up your thighs, a shiver running through you from his tender actions. “But soft, what light through yonder window breaks?” He pauses, shifting closer as he switches sides, now leaving open mouth kisses along your opposite thigh. “It is the East, and Juliet is the sun.”

You feel your breath hitch in your throat as he works his way to your clothed center, his eyes flicking up to look at you. “Arise, fair sun and kill the envious moon… and whatever the fuck else Romeo says.” Eddie chuckles before eagerly pressing his mouth against your clothed pussy, his tongue lapping at the wet spot on the cotton.

A gasp bubbles deep in your throat at the sensation, feeling the bliss of his tongue through the cotton barrier, your body easing up from its nervous state.

He looks up at you, “Good, huh?” He hums through the fabric, and you’re wound up so tight you’re already panting.

He taps the side of your thigh to get you to lift your hips, removing your panties in the process.

A low whistle escapes him as you spread your legs for him again, “Talk about eating in costume, baby, jeez.” He chuckles, and the joke makes you laugh too.

A short lived laugh at that, turning into a breathless gasp when his tongue makes contact as he begins to lap up the length of your pussy.

Your hand immediately goes to tug at his curls, not caring that they’re tied up and out of his face to be able to see the cue sheets. The delicious pull at his scalp makes his eyes roll to the back of his head.

A low moan falls out of your lips, catching yourself, hand flying to your mouth as you hear the rest of the cast clamoring outside.

“Gotta be quiet, Lady Capulet,” he snickers as he goes back to burying his face between your legs. His tongue darting in and out of you as a hand reaches for your mouth, wetting two of his fingers.

You don’t hesitate to open up your mouth for him, a bite at the juncture between your pelvis and your thigh, “Atta girl.” He mumbles against the wet skin, popping his fingers out of your mouth to tease at your entrance.

“That’s it baby, focus on me.” A whine escapes you as you’re now grinding on his tongue, his fingers enter you slowly, head thrown back in pleasure.

“You nervous, baby?” He asks, a cocky smile on his face. His fingers curl upward, your eyes squeeze at the overwhelming sensation.

You shake your head, still sentient. Not too far gone yet.

“You gonna use me to get off, my lady?” His fingers are pumping faster, feeling tears brimming on your waterline, hoping to not spill all over your face, your stage makeup seems to be in precarious conditions.

A familiar warmth, deep in the pool of your tummy, “Don’tstopdon’tstopdon’tstop” You know how much he likes to hear you sing for him. His spare hand grabs onto your thigh, rings biting the soft skin there, feeling yourself teetering on the edge.

“Thaaaat’s it, you’re doing so well,” he whispers. One more pump of his fingers and you cum with a silent cry, biting onto your hand, feeling yourself pulsate around his fingers.

Without much warning he slips them out, sucking on his own fingers, tasting your own delicious essence.

“Places!” You hear Miss George say backstage, as Eddie retrieves your panties for you and slips them up your legs.

Eddie fixes his hair in the mirror, tying them back. He places a kiss on your cheek with a hurried, “Good luck— uh fuck I meant break a leg.” Then he furtively leaves the dressing room.

You feel a blush spreading across your body, finally relaxed and ready to begin the show.

You leave the dressing room, joining the rest of the cast, full of excitement. You know all your love monologues are going to be directed towards a certain metalhead tonight.

The show goes smoothly and you don’t forget a single line, you’re surrounded by family and friends, ready to do it all again the day after.

You go back into the dressing rooms to grab your stuff and change, but a long mop of curly hair occupies your chair.

“Eddie, you can’t be here!” you whisper, as he turns around with the biggest smile plastered on his face.

“Just wanted to tell my girl congratulations in private. You smashed it tonight,” you blush at the nickname.

“Since when am I your girl?” you ask, not letting him see how much it affected you.

“Since you kissed me in my van when I dropped you off, gorgeous.” He flirts, bottom lip trapped in between his teeth.

“So, how about that date?”

thank you for reading! comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

tagging: @thornsnvultures, @xxhellfirebunnyxx, @duuhrayliegh, @ali-r3n, @sunnythevampireslayer, @bimbobaggins69, @jamdoughnutmagician, @eiightysixbaby, @aphrogeneias, @daisy-munson, @gravedigginbbydoll, @s6raphic, @take-everything-you-can, @strangerstilinski

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #stranger things #eddie munson x you #stranger things fanfiction #stage manager!eddie munson x theatre kid!reader #eddie munson fluff

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mrs-elsie-barnes · 2 months ago

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Back To Work | Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader | Drabble - 800 words

Retirement, a new house, a romantic evening planned, Bucky just knew that life was all going too well . Especially when he starts being hounded to return to his superhero life.

Warnings: language, fluff, a little angsty at the end. Featuring domestic thunderbolts Bucky.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and @reveriesources

Masterlist | Bucky Barnes

“Bucky, are you ready to go baby?” Your voice carried through from the living room as he clicked his arm back into place, shrugging his shoulder to get the fit right.

You'd been excited all day, buzzing around the new house and opening boxes, trying to unpack at the same time as finding the perfect outfit. Bucky was only half regretting making plans so soon after moving, sure it was stressful trying to dig out his nice shoes from the piles of boxes and bags, but seeing you so happy was completely worth it and knowing you’d be coming home to your house, together, was just the icing on the cake.

Now the sun was setting and you had turned on the downlighters in the kitchen, void of your usual clutter it looked lonely.

“Just checking my phone, Doll.” He called back picking the offending item up from the counter - so many missed messages, he sighed.

He'd been better recently, replying to Sam and catching up with him every week or so. He'd even managed to facetime Steve in his retirement home. He quite enjoyed the easy freedom of digital communication. But today, of all days, it had been pinging non-stop all driving him crazy during the drive and ruining the relaxing and, he hoped, romantic atmosphere he was trying to create.

“Come on, baby, I don't want to be late.” You strolled into the kitchen and he dropped the phone again to focus his attention on you instead, taking in your dress and heels, your lipstick perfectly done. How could he worry about a stupid phone when you were together.

“C’mere,” he pulled you close, tucking you under his chin and planting a kiss to the top of your head.

He smelt lovely, fresh from the shower but with the hint of cut wood from building furniture. His vest revealed the hint of his dog tags, outlined under the fabric, as well as his tanned skin from a summer well spent outside, your traced your fingers over the chain and up his neck. Tangling your fingers in his long hair you tugged him down for a kiss.

“Love you, Buck.” You whispered against his lips, heat surging through you just at his presence.

“Love you too.” His lips tickled your cheek, behind your ear, and then he was swinging you up onto the counter.

“Don't make us late!”

“If you don't like it, stop giggling.” His fingers tickled up your bare legs, eyes twinkling with desire.

Ping

“That fucking phone,” Bucky growled, grabbing it again. More messages, more missed calls.

“You should see what they want,” wrapping your arms and legs around him as you tugged Bucky closer, every line and curve fitting against him perfectly. He was sun warmed and cuddly, still ridiculously strong, but the hard lines and plains had softened since his retirement and you couldn’t get enough.

“Fine, for you, then we're going to go and have a nice dinner and I'm leaving this stupid thing here.” He grumbled, chin on top of your head.

You giggled again, leaving kisses on his chest. Bucky was so attached to that thing you didn't believe it for a second. Until his breathing went funny, heartbeat speeding up beneath your cheek.

“What is it?”

His eyes had lost their sparkle, looking sad and serious.

“I might have to rearrange dinner.”

“What? Why?” You couldn’t see the phone, but his eyes raced across whatever he’d been sent.

“Where did we pack the gear?”

“The what? Oh - uh,it's in the trunk, in the garage but -”

Bucky slid away, eyes glazed, focussed, intent and you were suddenly so cold without his presence.Your heart sank listening to the movement in the garage on the other side of the wall.

He emerged ten minutes later, his smart trousers and vest discarded in favour of leather, the dirty t-shirt he'd been wearing while you were unpacking was back and he’d at least grabbed his soft leather jacket for protection.

You threw yourself into his arms, tears springing to your eyes. “Are you needed?”

“I think so,” his voice was low, sinking into the headspace required to take on whatever danger was lurking.

“Come back to me in one piece, okay?” Your voice cracked, arms squeezing him impossibly tight.

“Of course, doll.” He looked at you then, tears welling in his own eyes, his lips so soft against your own.

“You're my hero, you know that? You don't have to do anything else?”

He nodded, letting you slide back to the floor, heels clicking on the tile in a sad reminder of your ruined evening.

“I love you, Bucky.”

“I love you, lock the door behind me, okay? Don’t let anyone, anyone, in.”

It was your turn to nod, you knew the protocols, the rules that reassured him.

His bike roared to life, then he was gone, and you were alone in the echo of your home.

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes/reader #Bucky Barnes x female!Reader #Bucky Barnes/female reader #bucky x female reader #Bucky fluff #bucky #Thunderbolts!Bucky #thunderbolts #domestic bucky #domestic fluff #Marvel

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agoodfictitle-shadowban · 3 months ago

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Sweet Summer | Pt. 1

Wanda Maximoff x f!Reader

Summary: The Xavier Institude is being renovated for the summer. With nowhere else to go, your best friends Billy and Tommy offer you to stay with them and their mom. But what happens when feelings start to spark between the two of you?

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: Trauma, Eventual Smut (in 2nd part), Age Gap (20yo reader, 37yo Wanda)

Tags: mutant!Reader (shadow manipulation), different timeline, everyone is alive (except Pietro, sorry Pietro), no Sokovia Accords, no Thanos, Wanda was young when she joined the Avengers, retired Natasha, top!Reader, bottom!Wanda, but they switch a bit, Vision is a bit of an asshole, divorced!Wanda, mainly cutesy, bit of angst tho

"Are you sure it's okay?" You asked both of your friends as you stood in the doorway of their bedroom. Summer was here, and with it, Professor X decided to do some renovations to the Institute.

For most of the mutants, it changed nothing since they would go home for the summer, but for you, it meant two months in the streets - well not really since Xavier offered all students who couldn't go home to stay at a hotel with the resident teachers, an uncomfortable solution in your opinion that left you with a bad taste in your mouth, like you needed the charity (which you did) before going off to University. Lucky for you, your two best friends had offered you to stay with them. It took a bit of convincing, a lot of reassuring that it wouldn't bother their mother, but in the end Billy and Tommy managed to have you agree to come with them for the holidays.

"We're absolutely certain, stop worrying that much," Tommy said, speeding around to finish preparing his suitcase at the last minute. He disappeared from the room and Billy softly smiled at you.

"He's right. And mom already agreed. She always wants to meet our friends, so I'm sure she'd be disappointed if you changed your mind."

You wanted to ask him if he was telling you all that just to make you feel better, but you fought it off. It was a nasty habit you had to always feel like you were a burden and a bother. The twins always found a way to reassure you, so you knew better than to question them some more. You gave Billy a nod, and watched as Tommy disappeared from the room and came back a second later with more things to stuff in his suitcase. He threw everything in and closed it after fighting it for a few minutes.

"I'm ready!" He declared proudly in a hero pose. You rolled your eyes and looked at the time on your phone.

"Only ten minutes late, a new record," you teased him. The speedster was somehow always late with everything, which in turn made you and Billy late. It would drive the teachers crazy, since the three of you were a package deal. You had been since you were young mutants just joining the Institute, despite being older than them by two years - you were still in the same level classes as them. This proximity never translated during holidays when they were away, beyond staying in contact with your phones. It took you being forced out to finally agree to go to their place.

"We should go now," the more responsible Billy declared as he started to drag his suitcase after him with his powers. "Mom has been waiting for us."

Anxiousness filled you for a second, but you took a deep breath and you followed the twins. You adjusted your bag on your shoulder as you walked down the stairs, saying goodbye to the other people who were getting ready to leave. There were a few fist bumps and brief hugs as your classmates and teachers warmly returned the goodbyes. It was the last time you were going to see some of them as you were leaving for university at the end of the summer holidays. This left you feeling sad and nostalgic, but also happy that you were progressing in life despite everything that happened to you. Those feelings washed over you as you walked through the doors of the Institute into the sun. A bunch of parents were waiting there to take their kids home. You never got to join them until now, but you watched from afar plenty of time, never daring to step closer and meet your friends' parents.

Today, Ms. Maximoff was alone. A few years ago she divorced her husband and father of her children. It had been hard on Billy and Tommy, but eventually, and with some help from therapy, they got over it. They still saw him regularly, and you were going to meet him when they were going to spend a month at his place, taking you with them. Because there was no way you would spend a month alone with their mother.

The twins spotted her first and waved at her from afar. You turned your head to have a good look at her and almost stopped on the spot when you did. She was gorgeous. Her wavy light brown hair, piercing green eyes, small nose, and lips were working all together to give her this unique charming look. But most of all, her smile was radiant. As you kept looking at her, you missed a step in the stairs and almost fell. Luckily, Tommy got you and straightened you up. You could feel all eyes on you for a brief instant, making you blush profusely but briefly as you kept walking, looking where you were going this time. Only when the twins stopped did you stop too and looked up. And there she was, right in front of you, in a white with sunflowers sundress and an open red hoodie. You couldn't help but gawk again while Billy gave her a hug. Tommy noticed and smiled proudly.

"Never seen an Avenger up close before?" He asked, so sure that it was the reason why, and you weren't about to contradict him.

"No, never." Especially not one so utterly beautiful. You shook your head and got a hold of yourself while Ms. Maximoff was hugging Tommy and finally stepped closer to her to extend your hand. "I'm glad to finally meet you Ms. Maximoff."

You barely had time to get those words out before she took your hand and pulled you in a strong hug. You were immediately overwhelmed by her scent and her warmth. You were paralyzed.

"Thank you for looking over Tommy and Billy. And please, call me Wanda."

"Oh, huh, sure, I can do that," you answered before she let you go, her hands still on your shoulders.

For a moment, your eyes met and you swallowed hard, feeling your cheeks burn up before she let go for good. It was like there was a current going through the air and into your body, something you both shared. Your heart skipped a beat. You took a deep breath.

"Let's get going, put your packs in the trunk of the car."

And just like that, it was as if nothing had happened. To be fair, you probably just imagined the connection going on between you and Wanda, so you tried to ignore the way you felt and simply put your bag in the trunk of the car. It gave you enough time to recover before you slid in the back of the car with Billy, after the twins fought for the place at the front.

There was a lively conversation between the twins and their mom, and music, and as you watched the scenery go by the window you found yourself smiling. That was until you arrived in front of a colonial revival style house in the suburbs. It was painted white, with two stories, and a large balcony on the right. A tree in the front yard hid most of the left side of the house, and the lawn was well kept. You followed everyone inside and a smile graced your lips when you saw how homey the place was. It would have completely relaxed you if not for that gnarly feeling of intruding on the family. It was like vines growing alongside your heart, preparing to crush it at any sign that this was true. That thought was interrupted when Wanda addressed you.

"Y/n? Come, I'll show you to your room." She spoke softly and grabbed you by the wrist to direct you towards the stairs. Her hand was soft and warm, and the simple contact elicited a tingling sensation up your arm. "This is Tommy's room, and here is Billy's. This is the bathroom. Here is my room, and here is yours."

She opened the door to the guest bedroom. It was simple, impersonal, with a king sized bed, a dresser, and a full length mirror. Close to the bed there was a door leading to the big balcony, and you guessed by the way things were in the house that Wanda had that same access. She entered the room and went to the door to the balcony to open it.

"I aired the room a few times in preparation of you coming but it still feels a bit stuffy," she pointed out as she looked outside. You shook your head and put down your bag on the bed, offering your host a smile.

"It's no worries, that room is great!"

"I'm glad you think so." She turned around and looked at you, examining your features for an instant. You tried not to squirm under her gaze, before her next words shocked you to your core. "Are you going out with Tommy?"

Your eyes went big like saucers, you opened your mouth once or twice before finally your shock settled and a laugh came out of you. It quickly grew bigger and bigger until you had tears in your eyes. Wanda frowned in confusion until you calmed down enough to answer her.

"No, we're not… I'm not interested in him like that. Actually I'm not interested in men like that," you confessed. You knew Billy was gay and came out years ago to his parents, so Wanda shouldn't have any trouble with this. There was still some brief silence before she smiled at you.

"Good." Her smile got more mysterious and you tilted your head, unsure of what it meant. You took it as a good sign, that she simply was glad that she didn't have to worry about Tommy dating you. "Okay, I'm going to let you organize your stuff. I have some work this afternoon, so have fun with the boys."

"Thank you. And thank you again for letting me stay."

"They talk so much about you, it's my pleasure to finally get to meet you."

You nodded, and Wanda left the room. You followed her movements with your eyes, looking her up and down before catching yourself.

"She's your best friends' mom, come on," you muttered to yourself before starting to take care of your bag.

It had been a week since you arrived at the Maximoff's household, and you had been having fun so far. You enjoyed the pool the most, having fun with Tommy and Billy while Wanda was away most of the time on Avenger business. There had been a few touches between the both of you, a hand on your shoulder while she was passing you, lingering close to you when bringing food on the table. You were sure that you were reading too much into it, but at the same time your heart would skip a beat every time it happened, your skin lighting on fire just by her simple presence. You tried your best to ignore it, of course, and so far it was working. With any chance it was going to pass soon enough and you wouldn't make a fool of yourself in the process.

"Hey, Y/n. I just received a message from a childhood friend, he's having a party, you wanna go?"

"Thanks for asking Tommy," Billy said with a roll of his eyes, sitting in an inflatable donut in the pool.

"I already know you'll go, dummy. So, Y/n?"

You laughed at the twins' antiques and approached the edge of the pool. A party would be nice, and it would take you out of the house. Maybe even make you think of something else than Wanda and her mesmerizing green eyes. There were no reasons for you not to go.

"Yeah, that sounds great."

"Great! It's in a week so we should go buy some clothes for it!" Tommy exclaimed before he answered the text from his friend.

"I already have clothes," You groaned before pulling yourself out of the water. It's not that you didn't like getting new clothes, if you were honest, it was that you didn't have the money for it. Something that you had no intention to reveal to your friends.

"Come on, it'll be fun!"

You rolled your eyes, but you knew there was no way out of this. You put your hands up in surrender.

"Alright, alright, we can go all together, you big baby," you smirked as Tommy frowned and put down his phone. He sped at you and pushed you in the water in retaliation, before he jumped in turn to start attacking you. You fought back, ending up climbing on his back like a spider, when Wanda approached the pool with a raised eyebrow. She was wearing a smart casual business outfit. You didn't notice her immediately, not before Billy got to explain what was happening.

"Why don't I come with you? I have an outing soon," Wanda offered as she looked at you and Tommy with an amused grin, now that you noticed her, stopping your playfight. Her eyes were boring into you, waiting for you to answer the question more than anyone else.

"Sure. Yeah, that would be nice." You scratched the back of your neck, a smile on your face as you looked back at her.

The moment was interrupted when Billy's inflatable bumped into you. You all discussed the details and decided to go tomorrow morning, when there would be less people than usual. It meant waking up early, but it wouldn't be a problem for you; you usually slept very little.

When morning came, you prepared yourself and went downstairs to surprise everyone with breakfast. You started with eggs and bacon, then pancakes. You were preparing coffee when footsteps came from the stairs.

"It smells delicious," Wanda said before you could even see her. When she finally turned the corner to the kitchen, you smiled at her. She was wearing her hair up in a loose bun, a large gray sweater, and some black sweatpants. Even just in her relaxed state she was gorgeous, and you almost burned a pancake looking at her.

"Thank you. Why don't you sit down and I'll bring you your breakfast." She nodded and went to sit down at the table in the sunroom under the balcony, crossing her arms on it. You prepared a plate and brought it to her.

"What's the occasion?" She asked when you were putting down the plate.

"No occasion, I just want to pull my weight around here." You cleaned the traces of fingers on the plate with a dishcloth while turning the plate properly. "I hope you enjoy it."

"I feel like I'm at one of Tony's fancy brunch."

"Never been to one of those, but it sure sounds like the food would be good."

"It was." For a fraction of a second, her smile turned sad. "It was one of the first things I experienced after coming to the States. I couldn't enjoy the food properly, but having everyone with me… it was special. Especially after…" she cut herself, her eyes lost somewhere away. She came back quickly and turned to you.

"Thank you so much." She put her hand on yours briefly as she thanked you, and your heart skipped a beat. You grinned proudly.

"Of course."

With that you went back to the kitchen, feeling rejuvenated by the simple contact and closer to Wanda after the short conversation, despite being worried about what she decided to hide. You knew you could probably just do some research on her history and come to your own conclusions based on context, but it felt intrusive, so you decided against it. Once you were back behind the stove, Billy then Tommy appeared one after the other, in different states of awakening. With them finally present, you also sat down to enjoy breakfast, then everyone left to go get ready for the day.

You were quick to arrive at the clothing store and grab whatever caught your fancy. You knew you weren't going to buy anything but it didn't mean you couldn't enjoy trying on nice clothes. There was a leather jacket that caught your attention and you put it on your arm to try it later as you kept going around the store. You looked at some things with Wanda while the boys were in the other section of the store.

"What do you think of this dress?" Wanda asked you as she held a nice black and white garment with a bit of a vintage style in front of herself. You tried to imagine her in it, and if you were honest to yourself you thought she'd probably even look good in a potato bag.

"I think it'd look great!" The woman smiled at you and added it to the small pile of clothes she had collected so far. Now you knew where Tommy's sense of style came from at least.

With that in mind, you joined back with the boys to try on what you had found in the store. Like you, Billy only had a few items, so you went first to try the clothes, putting on a mini show. You really liked the leather jacket, the twins and Wanda complimenting you on it, and you thought for a second that maybe you should buy it. But upon seeing the price again you grimaced and decided to put it with the rest of the clothes you couldn't buy anyway.

After you, Wanda and Tommy started their own mini show of trying their clothes. It was the occasion for you to admire the woman some more without feeling like a creep. You were right in your earlier assessment; Wanda could wear anything and look gorgeous. As both Tommy and Wanda went back into the fitting room, Billy decided to wander back into the store, leaving you alone on the bench where you waited for the rest of the show.

"Billy? Can you come help me with the zipper of my dress?" Wanda called, and you looked around. With your friend gone, you hesitantly approached the fitting room curtain.

"He went back into the store," you simply said to her. A few floating seconds passed.

"Can you help me then?"

You hesitated. On one hand, being in such a small space with her not technically fully dressed seemed like a bad idea for the blooming crush you had on her, and on the other hand, it's not like she was naked or like it was anything more than innocent. In the end, you got a hold of yourself.

"Yes. Yes I can." You entered the fitting room quickly so as to not expose her. There she was, her back turned on you, her back in full view while she was holding the dress up to cover the rest of her body. Your mouth felt dry when you came closer to her.

"I can't catch the zipper, so if you could just…" she trailed off but you understood clearly what she needed.

"Okay, let me just…"

You chased a few strands of hair away from her back to go with the rest, the soft texture burning on your fingers. You noticed a few goosebumps on her skin at this point, and you wanted nothing more than to trace along them on her back. It was easy to imagine the silky skin under your fingertips, the warmth of it against your lips, and the taste between your teeth. There was a dull ache inside of you, like a deep resonance that called to you. But you controlled yourself. With as much delicacy as you could manage, you took the zipper between your fingers and brought it up carefully until it hit the top of the dress.

"There you go," you almost whispered before looking up. Your eyes met in the mirror and you could swear you saw the same hunger as yours deep inside her green irises.

"Thank you," she told you, and you saw her neck bobbed slightly as she swallowed hard. Electricity ran through you and your hand raised, ready to meet hers so you could turn her around and get more than you did the past week.

"Where is everyone?" You heard Tommy ask. You stopped in your tracks, back to reality. After blinking a few times, you took a step back and came out of the fitting room trying to look casual.

"Sorry, I was helping Wanda with something."

She actually came out in turn and showed the dress to Tommy. She looked like nothing had happened - and technically nothing had - but you could still feel the blood filling your ears like the single most important decision of your life had been taken away from you. You contained a sigh and went back to sit while the rest of the time spent in the store flew by.

A few days went by, during which you tried to control your growing feelings. You quickly realized it was a futile endeavor the one day Wanda joined you to swim in the morning. Seeing her in her swimming suit, you couldn't help but appreciate the display of skin and how utterly beautiful she looked - leftover traces of pregnancy and all. She caught you looking at her a few times, and without ever missing a beat she smiled at you. It was a simple moment that cemented your attraction to her and whatever else you weren't ready to admit you were feeling. But despite that simple interaction, the peace that came with her small reciprocation didn't last.

You were playing on the PS5 with Billy, while Tommy was outside working on his tan. This day had been slow, until now when Wanda started getting ready for her outing.

"I'm almost ready to leave," Wanda said as she adjusted her long hair over her shoulder, then her carmine dress. She put on her heels and looked herself over in the mirror. "I left you with enough money for whatever you want to order, don't break the house, I'll be back late so be in bed before I come back."

"You hear that Tommy?" Billy relayed.

"No, sorry, the sun is blocking my ears!"

You paused the game and stood up with Billy to see her out when you noticed the luxurious car waiting in front of the house. A man stood up next to it, dressed in a relaxed suit. You frowned slightly as you looked back at Wanda, and it hit you. This 'outing' was definitely a date. Your heart sank to the bottom of your stomach.

"Have fun, mom," Billy said as he gave his mother a hug. Meanwhile you stayed standing in the hallway, frozen as every little sign you thought you saw her give to you came to your mind. Had you been imagining it? Your focus came back on Wanda when you felt her gaze on you, very briefly. You took a deep breath to ground yourself.

"I'll see you all tomorrow," she said before she disappeared through the door. Without another word, Billy taped you in the shoulder on his way to the console. It was enough to get you to automatically join him, your mind lost in speculations.

You spent the rest of the evening coming in and out of your thoughts, unable to share them with anyone, even when the conversation veered towards Wanda's date as you were eating your pizza.

"So, what did the guy look like?" Tommy asked his brother, who shrugged.

"He was a bit far so I didn't get to see well enough but he looked okay."

"What about you, Y/n, saw anything?"

You went back to the moment you saw the man in your head, only the feeling of hating the man for no reason. "There was nothing special besides his cool car."

Tommy groaned at your answer, looking at his pizza with distaste.

"You guys suck at gossiping, I swear."

You laughed lightly, and Billy pushed the last slice of pizza towards you as he spoke very wisely.

"Mom doesn't want us to meet the guy, we shouldn't force it. It's only their second date, there is really no reason to push."

You took the pizza slice, listening intently as you ate.

"I just wish she'd date someone fun or something," Tommy pouted.

"You can't think only of yourself." Billy had a point there, and his brother knew it, but it also hit you. You had to consider them in the equation of whatever you were feeling, whether Wanda liked you back or not. You couldn't just keep thirsting over their mom like that. With that new revelation in mind, you all watched a movie and went to bed.

The shadows around you were your only company, until you heard someone open the door downstairs. By the sounds she made, it had to be Wanda who was trying to be discreet as she was coming up the stairs. You followed her tracks around the house with your hearing, until she was finally in her bedroom. You closed your eyes, thinking she was going to go to bed but instead she opened the door to the balcony and took one of the chairs to sit on it. You frowned slightly, trying to visualize what she was doing but there was no point, you couldn't hear a thing anymore. You stayed in bed some more time until the curiosity was killing you, then you stood up and joined Wanda on the balcony. She was leaning against the railing, back in comfortable clothes, and looking at the sky hanging so far away from her. There was a glass and a bottle of wine sitting next to her. It was clear that she was lost in thoughts and didn't notice you.

"How was your date?" You asked rather bluntly, surprising her. She turned around quickly, wisps of red at her fingertips that vanished when she saw it was only you.

"Why aren't you asleep?" She returned on the defensive, her accent coming through for once. You approached and leaned against the railing like she did earlier.

"I just couldn't find sleep. Your turn now."

Wanda let out a sigh and resumed her position, not looking at you as she answered.

"I don't think I'm going to see him again." That answer made you feel conflicted. Your heart was making jumps and bounds at that, but her voice was so dejected that you couldn't help but feel bad for her. She grabbed her glass of wine and drank a sip. "Honestly I don't even know why I accepted a second date to begin with."

"That bad?" You tried in support to allow her to empty her mind.

"He just loved talking about himself, would try to order in my stead, and he had questionable opinions. To the point where I wondered why he would go on a date with me, a lowly woman with powers." You frowned at that last bit. Clearly the man was an idiot with an inflated ego.

"If he was that bad, why did you give him a second chance?" There was no blame in your voice, just pure curiosity. She took some time before she answered you, drinking a few more sips of wine.

"Part of it is loneliness, I suppose. Another part is…" she trailed off, her head briefly turning to look at you. "It doesn't really matter."

You hummed, half catching on to what she wasn't telling you. That you were part of the equation, even if she hadn't known you for long. But you had had your epiphany that night, so knowing that didn't matter anymore, you couldn't betray the twins.

"Loneliness sure sucks," you simply agreed. You took the glass of wine from her hand to take a sip while looking at her. Even in the dark you could see a small blush on her cheeks. "Makes us do dumb stuff."

"Aren't you a little bit young for that?" She arched an eyebrow at you and you smirked in return.

"I mean… yes," you admitted. "But not by much. Plus, it's not the first time I drink."

You winked at her and took one more sip before you put down the glass. She took it in turn and drank some more, then refilled it. There was peaceful, comfortable silence between the both of you as you shared the glass.

"Can I ask you something?" Wanda finally asked you, turning more towards you with a concerned but curious look. You shrugged slightly.

"Go ahead."

"How come… where…" she fiddled with her fingers and changed the leg she was most leaning against. "Where are your parents?"

You looked at her, no surprise on your face that she would ask that. It made sense after all that she would worry about it considering that you were invading her place for most of the summer. You linked your hands in front of you and looked away.

"I don't know, and frankly, I don't care. They're monsters." Memories started to surface as your eyes darkened. Visions of a dark basement and blood, of horrible words and terrible faith. When her hand landed on your shoulder, it took you out of those moments and anchored you to the now.

"I'm sorry," she whispered before her arms linked around you in a tentative hug. Her warmth and smell enveloped you like a reassuring blanket and you found yourself melting against her. Your vision became blurry; a few tears trailed down your cheeks. It took you some time, but eventually you calmed down enough to start enjoying the contact with Wanda.

You took a deep breath as you nudged your face closer to her neck and enjoyed the smell of cinnamon, sandalwood, and wine coming off of her. One of her hands made small circles on your back and you relaxed some more, until you emerged from the embrace and your gazes locked. The iridescent greens of her eyes were dancing under the moonlight like otherworldly flames ready to engulf you in its fire. It would have been so easy in this instant to lean closer and capture her lips, caress her rosy cheeks, and make her yours. And she did lean closer, her eyes fluttering shut, as you yourself started to initiate a kiss. But as you felt her breath on your lips, and could almost taste her supple mouth, a small voice in your head stopped you.

"I… I can't," you said, and she straightened up, looking red in shame.

"Oh. It's… I'm sorry, I shouldn't have…" she hid her face behind her hand and turned around, her back to you. Your lips formed a line and you took a step back.

"No, it's not you. I just… now… it's not a good time."

"No, you're right. We can't."

"I'm sorry," you said last before you fled to your bedroom, leaving Wanda alone on the balcony.

The dark basement had been your home for the last two years. At first, it wasn't that bad. You were in chains, but you got three meals a day and your parents would come and see you, trying to understand what happened, and encourage you to lose your powers somehow. And you tried, but you could always feel them in you, lurking in each shadow that you could see.

Then came the torture. New ways to deprive you of your 'gift from Satan'. First the exorcisms, then the cold of winter, then the electroshocks, then, then, then. One day, they simply didn't show up. No food and no water were brought to you. But no torture either. At first it happened maybe one time a week, they would forget you. It quickly became a habit. Two days a week, three days a week, five days a week. They would make sure you stayed alive, but it was like they had forgotten you. You were getting weaker and weaker, until one day you heard it.

Your doom.

A baby crying upstairs.

And at that moment you could feel in your guts what was their next step, what they needed to do to make sure that baby would be blessed by a life in the light of God. You almost accepted it. You felt so weak, ready to depart that torturous world that had been so unfair to you. So when the steps came down, you did nothing. When you saw the hammer, you did nothing. You laid there like a lamb waiting for slaughter.

He sat down next to you on your makeshift bed and caressed your hair with a tenderness you hadn't known the past two years. He told you it was going to be okay, that your suffering was over. You wanted it to be. Until you saw his smile amidst the tears, the happiness of finally getting rid of you overtaking him. It made you sick. He brought his hammer up. And then there was blood. Not yours, but his, as you held up a dagger made out of shadows. You stabbed him a second time. A third time. Almost went for a fourth but you couldn't see anything anymore. Everything was blurred by your tears and his screams.

She must have heard him, because she came downstairs. You threatened her for the key, and once the chains were down, you ran. You were no lamb. You were alive.

#wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff imagine #idk how to tag #x reader #swsu fic

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imfinereallyy · 2 years ago

Text

hummingbirds

Steve’s crying on the porch of his parents' house, with a duffel bag and baseball bat, when Eddie pulls into the driveway.

“Jesus, Steve, what happened?” Eddie crouches down to get eye level with Steve. Despite being dark out, the sun set long ago, and the outdoor lights weren’t on. Steve turns to look at his parents' car in the driveway and thinks back to when the lock had distinctly turned shut on the front door. They were around to switch the lights on; they just didn’t care anymore to do so.

Steve is grateful for the moonlight, as he can see the pretty lines on Eddie’s face. Even if they currently curve into a frown.

“Hey Eds.” Steve’s voice cracks.

“Stevie…what happened?” Eddie asks again, this time it’s gently. It cradles Steve and holds him softly. He wishes Eddie’s hands would do the same.

“Did you know hummingbirds are the only birds that can fly backward?” Steve sniffles.

Eddie’s face scrunches in confusion, “What? Birds? You lost me.”

Steve pushes past Eddie’s confused face. “They are the only birds to fly backward. Surprisingly, it wasn’t Dustin to teach me that out of the munchkins. It was actually El. She’s apparently going through a bird phase. And I don’t think the others are very interested. So I try to pay attention when she talks about it. And she taught me about hummingbirds.”

Eddie settles on his knees, “That’s great, man and those little shits should listen to her more, but I’m not sure what that has to do with what’s wrong. You called me to come pick you up and hung up before I could even answer.”

Steve bites his lip, “Sorry, my dad clicked the phone off.” Eddie’s face shows surprise, but Steve keeps talking before he can interrupt. “And well, I guess hummingbirds have nothing to do with anything. It’s stupid, really.”

“No, no. It’s not stupid. Tell me about the birds, Stevie.” Eddie’s hand finally reaches out to Steve. He brushes the fallen hair out of his face, and something in Steve just sets him off.

“You see, they can fly backward. And well, no, I’m getting ahead of myself. You see, my cousin Tucker is here to visit. And let me tell you, he is the worst. Like Eddie, you would hate him. Conservative, capitalist enthusiast, real bootlicker kind of guy.”

“Sounds like the worst. Especially if he made you use the big words.” Eddie’s hand falls away, and Steve mourns the loss. Normally, when people make jokes about his intelligence, it stings. It makes him feel small. But when Eddie does it, it isn’t mean or a poke at how stupid Steve is. With Eddie, it’s almost like he’s reminding Steve that he is smart. That maybe Steve is the one making himself small.

He is.

“Anyway, he’s visiting, right? So my parents come home. And I haven’t seen them in months, since before spring break. It’s nearly October, and I haven’t seen them, and I can’t tell if I’m excited or dreading their arrival. It’s always a fight when they are around, how I’m not good enough, how I should be more. Their visits always end up being cut short, and me feeling like shit. But this stupid, stupid part of me was hoping it would be different this time. They haven’t seen me since the “earthquakes.” Surely they’ll be happy to see I’m okay, right?”

Eddie stays silent, his face revealing nothing.

“Of course, it’s not. They only came home because my cousin Tucker was in town. All the way from Indy cause it’s so far. And my mom ‘made’ dinner, as in she ordered it and pretended she made it. It wasn’t even that good, but we all pretended it was the best thing ever made. Cause that’s what they do, pretend. And the dinner is fine, boring. Most of it is just me staying silent while my dad and Tucker talk about the business. Tucker runs the Indy office while my dad is in New York. Ya see, Tucker has been gunning to take over for my dad when he retires, which is another word for dies—“ Steve let’s put a bitter laugh; he wonders if his parents are listening. He doubts it.

“—and they are going on for the whole meal, and I’m almost through the home stretch when my dad brings up me, coming to work for him.”

Eddie reacts finally, “You’re going to New York?” His voice is strained, like he is trying very hard not to yell, not at Steve, but at anyone who will listen. Steve is quick to correct.

“No, no, I’m not. This was news to me to Eds. I have no interest in my dad's business, and as far as I was concerned, he didn’t want me a part of it either. Guess that has changed. Has? Had? I don’t know…” Steve trails off.

“Harrington.”

“Don’t call me that. It makes me think you’re mad at me. Besides, it doesn’t fit me anymore.” Steve bites.

“Sorry, Steve. I’m not mad. I promise. Just, what do you mean?” Eddie’s head tilts to the side, his curls cascading down his shoulder. It reminds Steve of a river, dark water rippling in the moonlight.

“I was so shocked, Eds. When he said that. That I was quiet, I should have corrected him, maybe. Maybe I could have fixed it. But Tucker was so quick to act. He was pissed. He knows my working for my dad means me being set up to take over. And Tucker, he’s worked too hard to make sure he does get the business. But instead of yelling, he just gets this concerned look on his face. And he…”

“He what?”

Steve wrenches his eyes shut as he recalls the rest. As he recalls the way Tucker’s face faked worry as he struck. Like he has been waiting for the right moment to ruin Steve. He manages to open his eyes eventually, only to see Eddie’s face once again. The honest look on his face is enough to push Steve on.

“In the summer, Robin was feeling sad. This was before you guys knew about each other, and I was the only one who knew about her. And she was sad cause nothing had happened with Vicky and she felt so alone. And I hated seeing her like that. And so, so I took her to Indy. And, and—“ Steve starts to hyperventilate.

Eddie takes him by the shoulders. “Breathe for me, Steve. Come on, baby, match my breaths. It’s okay. It’s okay.”

Steve matches Eddie’s breath. Ignores how the word baby calms him down instantly. “Tucker told my dad that he saw me in Indy. That he saw me come out of a gay club, Eddie. And he went on about how they should focus more on getting me help, than putting me in a power position, again Eds, which I don’t even want! And how I would be a bad look for the company. How would it look if a company whose whole image is family values, only successor, turned out to be gay.”

Eddie flinches a bit, but doesn’t let go of him. Steve feels instant regret. “That isn’t what I meant, Eddie.”

Eddie shushes him, “I know, sweetheart. You’re just upset. I know. Did you tell him that you weren’t there for you? Or maybe that Rick was mistaken; it was a regular club?”

Steve rubs a hand down his face, “And what? Tell him that my two best friends in the entire world are gay? So that I can be shipped off to New York and never see them again? Yeah right. I’d rather face the bats again than be removed from you two. And I’m not going to out you guys like that.”

Something warm crosses Eddie’s face, “So, you lied then?”

“Before I could say anything my dad reacted.”

Eddie freezes, a darkness swims in his eyes. “He put his hands on you?”

“No, no!” Steve panics, and he purposely leaves out the ‘not this time.’ Eddie isn’t necessarily a violent person. But he does have a protective streak. As admirable as it is, Steve doesn’t want him to get hurt.

Eddie relaxes but only slightly.

“He was actually pretty calm, which is even more terrifying. I expected him to yell, throw things. But instead he just turns and says, ‘Is this true, Steven?’. And what gets me is they didn’t even question why my cousin was anywhere near that club in the first place. Why did he see me there? Instead, he just asks me if it’s true. And it’s the first time in a long time, if ever, that my dad asks me this. He always just assumes I’ve fucked up. And this time, he really asked me about the truth. And I couldn’t, I couldn’t lie. I don’t know why, but it felt wrong to. So I didn’t. I just told him, ‘Yes. It’s true.’”

“Stevie…”

Steve throws out a bitter laugh, “And you know what? He still doesn’t freak out. He just tells me I have five minutes to get my shit and get out. That I needed to call a ride because the car was under the name Steve Harrington, and I was no longer a Harrington. And he was so calm. And my mom just sat there, and I just listened. I didn’t fight. I am so tired of fighting.”

“Steve, why not just tell them the truth? Tell them you were there for a friend?” Eddie’s tone isn’t scolding, only curious.

“See, that’s because I started thinking about hummingbirds, Eddie. I started thinking about how they fly forwards and backward and how they are the only ones that can do that. Isn’t that fascinating? These small birds are so strong and interesting, and can do something no one else can do. But no other birds understand; the rest of them just fly forwards Eds. And I—I feel like that sometimes. That I’m not flying in one direction, ya know?”

Steve feels like he isn’t making much sense, but then Eddie nods and looks at Steve. Like really looks at Steve, and sees him. And Steve feels raw, stripped of his skin, exposed, and it should hurt, but it feels so fucking good. And Eddie stares deep into Steve’s eyes and says, “Yea, I know.”

“I didn’t want to lie. Because even though Tucker was wrong, he was also right. I wasn’t there for me, but I think I needed to be there. To get it. And I think that I’m flying backward, Eds. And I’m worried it’s wrong of me, that it shouldn’t be allowed. And that there is no purpose to me flying backward if I can just go forwards. If I can just fly with the rest of them. But I don’t think, I don’t think I’ve ever really taken flight before. Not before I understood I could also go backward.”

It’s in this moment, where Steve is covered in tears and snot that Eddie finally takes his hands and cradles Steve’s face. Steve’s never felt safer.

“Listen to me, sweetheart; there is nothing wrong with you. Okay? Nothing wrong with you. Just because you can fly forwards doesn’t mean you have to, doesn’t mean you should. Sometimes you’re going to have to fly backward; you’re not going to have a choice. It’s just the direction you’re fast, huge, hummingbird heart takes you. And it might take you a bit to learn that. To understand that, but I will make sure that you do. Because you, Steve Harrington, are fucking fearless and fucking beautiful, and I am so goddamn proud of you.”

Steve finally reaches his breaking point and collapses in Eddie’s arms. Full body, ugly sobs wreck Steve. He is sure that he is soaking Eddie’s favorite Black Sabbath t-shirt to the bone, but he can’t find it himself to care. His fingers dig into Eddie’s back as he clutches tighter as his breathing picks up.

“Breathe, baby, breathe. Remember that. I got you. I got you.” Eddie whispers into Steve’s ear.

Steve picks his head up when he finally calms down, and looks at Eddie. “You.”

“What’s that?” Eddie says softly, rubbing circles through Steve’s polo.

“I called you. Because, I think—no, I know, that I’ve been flying backward, to you. For a while now. And I knew that, even if you weren’t too, you’d still show up. And I just—just need you to know that. I am so grateful you showed up.”

Steve knows he should feel nervous telling Eddie all this, but he isn’t. He strangely feels like his dad at this moment, calm and unmoving. Steve doesn’t understand many things in this world, but he understands that even if Eddie doesn’t love him like that, Eddie still loves Steve in plenty of other ways.

It’s still nice, though, when Eddie leans forward and kisses Steve’s forehead. Steve closes his eyes and releases a breath.

Eddie slides his head down slightly so their foreheads are pushed together affectionately. “Stevie, I’ll always fly backward to you.”

Although it’s awful how they got here, Steve can’t help but feel happy at this moment. He also can’t help the silly giggle that comes out of him, “I think we have just lost all meaning to this metaphor at this point.”

Eddie snorts, “Oh, have we? And here I thought we were having a nice moment, a poetic one at that, telling each other ‘I love you.’”

Steve blinks at him, “You love me?”

Eddie frown lines finally turn upwards, “Yea baby, I love you.”

“I—“

Eddie cuts Steve off. “Tell me in the morning. When your tears have dried, and I’ve woken up with you in my arms. I want to hear it in the daylight. Okay? Let’s go home.” Eddie stands, offering a hand to Steve.

“Home?”

“Yea home, got to fly back to our nest.”

Steve can’t help the snort he releases, “Dork.”

Eddie just smiles, “Thought I told you to save the ‘I love you’ til the morning.”

Steve smiles back as he takes Eddie’s hand, “I didn’t…”

Eddie squeezes Steve’s fingers, “Yea, ya did.”

****

I’m back, not dead, and in my feelings. Thinking about expanding on this one. I hope you guys like it. 🧡🧡

#steddie #stranger things #Steve eventually gets a hummingbird tattoo #everything I write is soft #they deserve to be soft #bisexual steve harrington #gay eddie munson #cw: implied homophobia #cw: internalized homophobia #my writing #steve harrington #eddie munson #ficlet #robin buckley #steve x eddie #soft boys #post s4 #bisexuality awareness

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freakassfemme · 3 months ago

Text

chronically offline abby headcannons ✧˖*°

she is coping so well and thriving. i said i could fix her and i did

heyyyy so this is sort of kind of low-key a little bit of a continuation on beloved butch abby, the premise of the au and personality is the same. i got a request asking for more and i was thinking about this anyways and thought they worked well together

♫ above the chinese restaurant (laufey)

ೃ༄ abby is (unfortunately) a retired soldier, she's got a kid to look after, she runs a cafe downtown and she's got two dogs. all at like, 22. did we really think she has the time to go online for anything more than 🔍 thirty minute dinner recipes your vegan teenager isn't going to kill you over

ೃ༄ just kidding. she doesn't mind lev trying out new things lol. he is her whole fucking world, she's more than happy to spend time with him cooking something he remembers from home, giving each other grossed out faces when they fuck up the tofu again, and giving up and going to target 15 minutes before close to piece together some random junk food.

Manny will come over and cook with them sometimes, and that's always a fun time. he's got abby drunk before nine and she's just a laughing mess.

ೃ༄ she just loves being around Manny in general. they meet up for lunch a lot, go on runs together in the morning, work on each other's trucks, etc.,

now that she's living a normal life, she's able to take a serious Spanish class, and he's very supportive about it.

ೃ༄ definitely takes the dogs into the cafe with her. whenever someone complains about the pandora radio she puts on, she blames it on the dogs.

yeah she uses pandora until someone teaches her what Spotify is

ೃ༄ she's such a planner. she's got a huge chalkboard in the kitchen for the week and the month with both of their schedules drawn on it down to the hour if needed. hers is written in orange and lev's is written in green.

only watches tv once a week, and it's for a designated show that's so laid back, like the great British baking show.

"do you want to watch this show?" "no it's not Sunday"

ೃ༄ she's definitely the type to limit screen time, and lev himself isn't like partial to brain rot, but sometimes he says something that has her turning around like what did you just say eyes wide and everything

lev tells her to touch grass one day and she goes on a hike

ೃ༄ her favorite evening activities are taking the dogs on a sunset walk with lev, and then when lev's gone up to his room for the night, she will pack him like a little bento-type lunch. she'll cozy up in her lazy boy by the fireplace with Alice at her feet and journal away, sometimes until she falls asleep.

she's got BUCKETS of journals. it started in therapy after her dad passed, as like a coping mechanism to at least attempt to correct her thought processes, and it's always stuck. it's always made her feel like she's putting herself in order again.

after therapy, i feel like abby spent a lot of time thinking about religion. she never really found anything that clicks, but she reads a lot about buddhism and really appreciates the perspective.

ೃ༄ definitely has a weird phone setup going on. she's either got a really old like iPhone 7 with maybe 6 apps on it or one of those CAT flip phones lol. can you imagine flip phone selfies from her

ೃ༄ writes her grocery lists on a little piece of yellow paper that she'll tuck into her front pocket. carries specifically one of those bic ballpoint pens, has like 5 year old reusable grocery bags and a keychain for her Aldi quarter that she thinks is so clever and fun.

she definitely uses one of her favorite coins from her collection as her Aldi quarter.

ೃ༄ gets the paper delivered to her house. she prefers to read it that way, but she pays for lev to get a digital subscription to his kindle or something

ೃ༄ keeps her dads beat up, decaying quilt as a topper for her bed. she folds it up neatly every night and sets it in a rocking chair in the corner of her room, just to preserve it a little longer.

ೃ༄ knows how to get throughout almost the entire west coast without a map or gps or anything

ೃ༄ reading is HUGE in her house. lev's reading log was NEVER forged not once. she spent a whole summer building ceiling to floor bookshelves with a gorgeous trim and a mahogany stain. she loves to swing by the used bookstore after work every once in a while, the one where she can get a book for 25 cents or a big bag of them for two bucks.

every birthday, lev gives her a bag of books, and he always puts one in that he loves but isn't sure she will like. it's usually not her style, but she likes learning more about his interests and she thinks they're always very sweet books.

always secretly surprises lev with little books with transmasc characters or about real trans people. she will just leave them on his desk in their shared office or something with a little sticky note with a heart on it

ೃ༄ makes friends with the lanky manager of the record store with a weird fucked up tattoo when she's looking for more cassettes for her beat up truck.

"dude, you're the only person who has looked through this crate in like, six months. you can just take what you want."

"holy shit, really? it's the only thing i can play in my truck besides the radio."

"jesus, that's kind of funny. yeah, anytime you want, you can use my shit to make your little mixtapes. if I'm not here, just tell them Ellie said so."

ೃ༄ is definitely an active member of her local library, not only for reading material, but to check out music, and she loves to participate in the chess and book clubs.

really loves board games in general.

ೃ༄ I feel like abby loves Birkenstocks, but the clogs. she has a pair of sandals for the summer, but in my heart I know she's a clog girly.

ೃ༄ very simple, very minimalist wardrobe. I feel like she exclusively sticks to Levi's for jeans, and then she has like 8 black tee shirts and some thrifted sweatshirts and tee shirts.

would very much adore though if her girlfriend crocheted her a hat or a scarf or something <3

ೃ༄ speaking of girlfriends, I feel like abby really goes for opposites attract. she's so mild in appearance, that she loves someone that's a little over the top. maybe a little frilly, or adds odd little details to their outfits. she loves funky hairstyles and creativity in women.

ೃ༄ she loves making her own coffee. working at the cafe wasn't just convenience for her, abby loves the slowness of it. she loves packing the espresso, she loves checking on her sourdough every morning, she loved crafting her own tea blends. she definitely has a beat up metal French press, but she probably invests in her own espresso machine to keep at home too.

ೃ༄ i feel like eventually abby would coach for a sports team at lev's school. maybe he joined gymnastics or like, made the soccer team, and abby's packing-coolers-full-for-the-team and carpooling and excessive volunteering eventually takes her to leading after school drills and a best coach ever mug for the middle school boys soccer team lol.

this OR she becomes one of the most active parents any GSA has ever known to mankind

joins the pta

ೃ༄ is SO sentimental. has photos of people she loves all over the walls of her house, keeps tickets from movies and cuts out bits from the newspaper to keep in a little shoebox under her bed. she keeps her dad's medical journals and research on a special shelf above the fireplace.

her little flip hone has a blurry picture of her and Manny in the background

ೃ༄ Abby texts and types like this. She is a very formal typist. She will become very confused if someone texts her in lowercase or without punctuation.

#abby anderson #x reader #fanfiction #tlou2 #tlou #the last of us part 2 #the last of us #Abigail anderson #headcannons #smut #ellie williams

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luvergirl-866 · 13 days ago

Text

something like love

part - 3

pairing - paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count - 3.3k

c/w - language, slight homophobia

a/n - hi, i’m back! i wrote the majority of this part while high and she’s mostly unedited so if you see mistakes, no you don’t. i’m so happy with how y’all are receiving this story and i’m having so much fun writing it! i’d like to reiterate that i’m sure paige’s mom and step-dad are amazing parents and this is all fictional! as always, i hope you enjoy, and lmk what you think!

Finals go about as well as Azzi expected. With the way she and Paige locked in three days before, she’s not too surprised. They didn’t even go to the gym the entire time, instead staying shut up in Paige’s bedroom with highlighters and textbooks and laptops. Although, Paige did get pretty stir-crazy on day two and started doing push-ups on the floor. Azzi had gotten a weird vibe that she was showing off.

What did make studying a little harder, though, was the fact that Paige seems to be having trouble separating their acting from their actual friendship, and has thus taken to calling Azzi ‘ma’ and brushing her thigh even while they’re alone. Azzi doesn’t know how to tell her to stop, or if she even really wants to.

It’s now the day after finals and only two days before they leave for Montana, where the real challenge will begin. Needing some space from Paige, which is a rarity with them practically living together these days, Azzi has retired to own room to pack her bags. It’s not going well.

Usually, she’s an amazing packer. She enjoys it, even, finds it soothing to create a checklist, pick her outfits, and pack her belongings just so so that they all fit.

Today, it’s a little different. Because today, she doesn’t know what to plan for, and she doesn’t know her to make all her shit fit into this suitcase, and she can’t decide what outfits to bring because all she can think about with each article of clothing is whether or not Paige would like it. Would Paige like these leggings, the way they hug her ass? Would she like this tight top with the plunging neckline? Would she compliment these shoes, ogle this little skirt?

Being in love with Paige is nothing new. But this, this feels foreign to Azzi, feels like when they were teenagers and she was just beginning to realize that her feelings for Paige were more than platonic. It feels nervous and jittery and insecure, and over the years Paige has become safe. She is secure and strong and rooted deeply in Azzi’s very being. Azzi wants more out of her, sure, but that fact hasn’t made her this afraid in years.

Groaning, Azzi fists up the sweatshirt she’s holding and then buries her face in it to scream. She’s about halfway through her little tantrum when a knock on her door startles her out of it. She doesn’t bother to lift her head out of the sweatshirt to mumble, “Fuck off.”

The door opens anyway, of course, and then there’s Carol’s voice, cautiously asking, “What’s going on in here?”

Azzi finally lifts her head to stare at her best friend. “Trying to pack for Montana.”

“Yeah?” Carol asks, still speaking softly as if she were trying to soothe a rabid animal. “And, uh, how’s that goin’ for you?”

Azzi groans again. “Really great, yeah. It’s awesome.”

“Mm.” Carol hums, then perches herself on the edge of Azzi’s bed, looking down at her. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Azzi says automatically, because she can’t tell her best friend what’s actually going on, or else she’d give away she and Paige’s secret. But Carol looks at her suspiciously, like she might start interrogating her at any second, and so Azzi quickly decides to tell a half-truth. “Ok, I just, I’m nervous to see Paige’s family in Montana.”

Carol furrows her brow. “But haven’t you met them before?”

“I have,” Azzi nods. “But only the times they came up to visit Paige, and those were far and few between.” Azzi can’t help the bitter tone that seeps into the last part.

“Yeah,” Carol says. “From what I’ve heard it doesn’t seem like they’re super involved with her. Not like her dad and step-mom.”

“They’re not, and they never have been,” Azzi says, clutching the sweater a little tighter as if she were choking it. “Paige’s mom left when Paige was like three and she didn’t come back to visit until an entire year later. Paige didn’t even remember her by then. She says she hugged her dad’s leg and cried the first time she visited,” Azzi seethes, remembering how Paige had laughed quietly when she first told Azzi the story, her eyes sad. “And now they’re homophobic and totally shut Paige out when she told them she was a lesbian and they’re going to hate me, it’s going to be so hostile and awful and—“ Azzi cuts herself off with another scream into the sweatshirt. Vaguely, she realizes it’s an old one of Paige’s, something she stole way back in high school. Fitting.

“Hey, hey,” Carol says, sliding onto the floor next to Azzi and patting her knee, “you gotta chill out, okay? You know Paige won’t let them say a word to you. That girl would protect you with her life,” she says earnestly, and it makes Azzi’s heart skip.

“Yeah?” Azzi asks, just because she wants to hear it from someone else.

“She loves you a lot, Az. And I think we all realized it a lot sooner than you did, because y’all were too fucking stupid to notice how different you are around each other.”

Azzi furrows her brow. “Different?”

“Yeah,” Carol nods, patting Azzi’s leg. “Ever since we got to UConn, the two of you are always in your own world. You listen to her for hours if she wants you to and she’s always touching on you, being all protective and shit. And don’t even get me started on the way she looks at you when she thinks you won’t notice. I mean, you two are dating now and she still does that shit.” She shakes her head affectionately, then laughs. “And y’all were like that long before we got here, too.”

Azzi isn’t really listening anymore, too stuck up on thinking, Paige looks at me?

It might seem like a silly thought because Azzi is stealing secret glances at Paige all the time, and she has done for years. But that makes sense, because Azzi is hopelessly in love with her. Paige has absolutely no reason to be staring at Azzi when she thinks nobody’s watching.

Carol must be saying all this to make her feel better. She always knows the right thing to say.

“Yeah,” Azzi says, instead of saying what she’s really thinking—There’s absolutely no chance Paige looks at me in secret—and when Carol leans in to hug her, she returns it, letting her head rest on her best friend’s shoulder. “Thanks, Carol. You’re right.”

“I know, girl,” Carol responds. Azzi takes a deep breath, trying her best to chill out, and just as they’re separating, her door cracks open. Of course, speak of the devil, in pops Paige Bueckers, blond hair flowing loose around her shoulders. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Nah,” Carol says, waving Paige in. “Just chatting.”

“Gossip?” Paige asks, shutting the door behind her.

“Don’t worry, we’d never gossip without you.”

Paige laughs and then looks down at Azzi, who is quite busy doing the very important job of picking at a scab on her knee. “Hey, babe. Everything good?”

Azzi looks between her two best friends, and Carol’s giving her a soft, encouraging smile which Paige clocks immediately—the three of them have gotten good at reading each other over the years—and she walks over to them, sitting down across from Azzi. “Okay, what’s up?”

Surprisingly, Azzi’s eyes begin to sting and a hard lump forms in her throat, emotion overtaking her more strongly than it usually does, and she only has to wonder why for just a moment before she remembers, her period should be starting any day now. Stubbornly, she swallows down the tears, refusing to embarrass herself by crying in front of them. “Nothing’s up. I’m just—“

“She was having a hard time packing,” Carol says quickly, pushing herself up off the ground. “How about you help her, Paige? Sit on her suitcase so she can zip it or something.” There’s a warning in her tone and Paige gets it immediately, based off the way she nods and scoots closer to Azzi.

As soon as Carol’s gone, Paige is reaching out to rest her arms on Azzi’s knees. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” Azzi says, but Paige doesn’t buy it one bit. “Really, it’s fine. It’s dumb.”

“Not dumb, ma,” Paige says softly. Her thumb rubs against Azzi’s knees, and this is something Paige only does when they’re pretending. Azzi wonders again if she should warn Paige about the fact that their dating habits are seeping into their normal friendship, even when they’re alone. That could become dangerous.

But right now, the comforting warmth of it is welcome.

“Seriously, just tell me,” Paige urges, impatience evident in her tone. “You’re makin’ me all nervous.”

“Don’t, it’s actually not a big deal at all.” Azzi figures she should say something before Paige builds this up in her head too much. “I just, I’m worried about seeing your mom. I know she’s not gonna like me because of…” she gestures between them, “this. But I know she’s not my favorite person either and I’m just kinda scared that everything’s gonna clash and you’re gonna end up getting hurt.”

Paige stares at her for a second, then nods and sighs. “Yeah, that makes sense.” She looks down at her hands in Azzi’s lap, then back up at her. “But, like, if anything bad happens, it’s not gonna be on you. It’ll be on my parents for being shitty. You don’t gotta worry ‘bout me.”

Suddenly, Azzi feels guilty. Here she is having a mental breakdown over a situation that ultimately won’t affect her nearly as much as it’ll affect Paige. And here Paige is, sitting across from her, comforting her. The hands on Azzi’s knees start to feel too hot.

“You must be nervous, too,” Azzi says. “You don’t know how they’re gonna react when you show up with me rather than some guy.”

Paige shrugs it off, but her throat bobs. “Nah, it’s alright.”

Paige looks chill as can be, shoulders slumped, face relaxed. But Azzi knows her too well, notices the way her fingers are twitching and her eyes are looking everywhere but her.

“You don’t have to act in front of me,” Azzi says, hoping it doesn’t sound too corny.

“I know,” Paige says immediately. She finally meets Azzi’s eyes. “Listen, I might be a little nervous. But it’s whatever. And you don’t gotta be nervous, either. Whatever happens, we’ll be there together, yeah?”

Azzi nods, lifting Paige’s hands off her knees to take them in her own. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“I got you,” Paige says softly, and it flusters Azzi but she’s more focused on the way Paige is looking at her, this little crease between her brows like she’s trying to figure something out. Just like after their kiss. But Azzi clears her throat and Paige snaps out of it, pulling her hands away from Azzi’s to brush herself off. “And you got me. Just like always, yeah?” She stands up, then looks around awkwardly, suddenly all jittery and weird. “So, uh, do you actually need help packing? I’m basically a master packer, I could get it done in prolly five minutes, flat.”

Azzi knows Paige is trying to deflect from whatever that was, and it seems like, once again, they’re not going to talk about it. Amazing.

“You’re the worst packer I’ve met in my life, P,” Azzi teases, going with it. “I usually need to help you.”

“I’on need no help,” Paige waves her off. Then she looks down at Azzi’s suitcase and scratches the back of her neck awkwardly. “But, uh, if you wanted to come up to my place to help with some fits I wouldn’t be mad.”

Azzi shakes her head, deciding to leave her packing for later. “Come on, stupid head. Let’s go.”

“Yo,” Paige says, following her out of the room. “Don’t call me stupid.”

“Sorry you’re right,” Azzi says. “Shit-for-brains is way more fitting.”

“Yo!”

—————————————

Before leaving for the airport, their teammates act like they’re going off to war. They all hug them extra-long and talk forlornly about what they’re gonna do without ‘mom and dad’ around.

Now that Azzi and Paige are ‘dating’, the two of them get called mom and dad more often than they get called their actual names. It’s kind of cute, actually, even if it is annoying sometimes.

“You kids be good,” Paige says sternly, playing into the act, and Azzi ruffles KK’s hair and says, “don’t bother your brothers.”

“Yeah, don’t bother us, Camera,” Ice says, and KK tackles her. Paige and Azzi take the opportunity to sneak out.

They’re at the airport now, waiting in the lounge where they only get approached by two polite fans asking for pictures. Paige is just dozing off when their flight is called, and Azzi manages to drag her through the gate into the plane before she’s slouching in her seat, falling asleep as soon as she sits down.

She wakes thirty minutes later, and she rests her head on Azzi’s shoulder when they start up a movie to watch. When she does, instinct takes over and Azzi doesn’t really realize what she’s doing until she kisses Paige on the head, nuzzling into her blonde hair, and she’s mid-nuzzle when she remembers that they have no reason to be all up on each other like this. Paige is stiff on her shoulder now, and Azzi laughs awkwardly, lifting her head to stare blankly at the movie. “My bad. Habit.”

“You’re good,” Paige says. She softens on Azzi’s shoulder, and then she mumbles something completely incoherent.

“Sorry, what?” Azzi asks, popping an earbud out to hear better.

“Huh?” Paige says.

“You said something.”

“Nah, you’re hearin’ stuff.”

“Paige.”

“Shh, I’m missing the movie.”

“Paige, seriously, what’d you just say? You tryna talk crap?”

“No,” Paige says emphatically. She shrugs, then leans her head a little further into Azzi’s neck and mutters, “I just said I didn’t mind.”

“Didn’t mind what?” Azzi asks, scrunching her nose.

“Are you dumb?” Paige says.

“Rude,” Azzi responds, and then she says, “Wait. You didn’t mind when I kissed you?”

“Didn’t mind when you kissed my head,” Paige corrects.

It’s Azzi’s turn to mumble, “Well, I know you didn’t mind when we kissed for real, either,” and Paige hears it and lifts her head up, shoving Azzi away. “Hey, chill with allat. I said that to you in a moment of weakness.”

Azzi shoves her right back, hoping to hide the feelings she’s sure are written all across her face, because Paige has admitted that she wants to kiss Azzi again and now they’re bringing that up, and what does it even mean?

“Aw,” Azzi says, trying for casual, “you big ol’ softy.”

“I ain’t soft,” Paige says gruffly, looking out the window and crossing her arms over her chest.

“I think you are,” Azzi sing-songs, then she leans over into Paige’s space. Paige doesn’t turn to her, but her breath hitches when Azzi whispers close to her ear, “I think you’re soft as hell for me.”

Paige stares stubbornly out the window. “No clue what you’re talkin’ about.”

“Mm,” Azzi hums, and then she rests her chin on her shoulder, gazing out the window as well, even though her mind is elsewhere. “I think you like doing this with me, P.” Feeling bold, she sneaks her hand onto Paige’s thigh, clad in those basketball shorts that always do something to Azzi’s head. “I think you’re surprised by how much you like it. Having an excuse to be all over me whenever you want. Acting like I’m all yours when we’re around people.”

Paige gasps when Azzi presses her lips to her neck, not kissing her but just resting there, and she turns back to look at her when Azzi lifts her head.

They’re inches apart.

Paige looks at her lips. She’s been doing that a lot ever since their conversation in the bathroom. Azzi is a soldier for the amount of restraint she usually has, because when Paige looks at her like this—this new, unfamiliar look on her face while she stares at her lips—every bone in her body wants to close the gap between them.

Today, her restraint feels frayed. And so she leans forward, slowly, and kisses just the edge of Paige’s mouth. Not a real kiss. But not friendly, either.

Paige gasps.

Azzi breathes out shakily, and then she shoves Paige’s face away playfully. “Watch our movie, dumbass.”

Azzi is shaking for the entirety of the movie, but at least she’s pretending to watch it. The entire time, she can feel Paige’s eyes burning into her skin.

Azzi gets the sinking feeling that something unexpected is going to happen on this trip.

—————————————

They get off the plane at 7pm. By the time they get their bags, it’s 7:30. And by the time Paige’s parents pull up to get them, it is 7:45. Paige clutches Azzi’s to her side with one hand, her suitcase held tight in the other. Her mom and step-dad look at them strangely and whisper to each other before getting out of the car.

“Hey, kiddo,” Dean is the first to speak. “How was the flight?”

Paige releases Azzi so he can pull her into an awkward hug while her mom stands back. “Yeah, uh, it was good.”

“Good, good,” Dean nods. “That’s good.” He glances back at his wife, who is looking between Paige and Azzi with this expression on her face that Azzi doesn’t like at all. “Here, um, let me get you ladies’ bags.”

He takes a suitcase in each hand and pops the trunk to start loading up their stuff. He murmurs something to Amy when he passes, by, and she nods stiffly before taking a measly step forward. “Hi, baby. Your…hair looks nice.”

Azzi almost squeezes her eyes shut at how awkward this is. But at the same time she can’t, watching mother and daughter like she’s watching a train wreck.

“Thanks, Mom.” Paige is the first to reach out, and even though Amy holds her stiffly, Paige falls into her mother’s arms, something she has never been able to do often. Azzi can tell Paige thinks it may be the last time and is trying to savor it.

“Paige,” Amy says, pulling away from her daughter after a few moments and glancing pointedly at Azzi, “I see you brought your friend.”

Paige looks back at Azzi, who, despite her own nervousness, gives Paige her most encouraging smile.

“That’s alright, we have a pullout,” Amy says after neither of them responds. “Would’ve been nice to know that I needed to shop for an extra person, though.”

Azzi winces. What a rude thing to say.

“So, where’s Josh?” she goes on, and Azzi’s stomach churns. This is it. “Your father and I have been dying to meet him.”

“Not my father,” Paige murmurs quietly enough that Dean won’t be able to hear from where he’s still lingering behind the car, taking great care in loading up their bags.

“Don’t be like that, Paige, you know what I meant,” Amy sighs, then runs a hand down her face. “Josh isn’t here, is he?”

At this, Dean perks up, closing the trunk door.

Paige backs up a few steps, back to Azzi, and takes her hand to pull her forward. “No, he’s not.”

“Uh,” Azzi says, speaking for the first time when everyone looks at her expectantly. “Nice to see you guys again.”

“Good to see you too, Azzi,” Dean says jovially, even though they’ve only met a few times.

Amy looks at Paige. “Why is she here with you?”

She looks as if she knows the answer and is dreading it.

Paige, always so brave, strives on anyway.

“Mom, Dean,” Paige says. “I’m sorry for springing this on you, I know it seems last-minute. But…” she looks over at Azzi, who squeezes her hand a little.

She smiles softly down at her, and doesn’t even bother to look at her parents when she says, “Azzi’s my girlfriend.”

Amy places a hand to her chest and Dean walks forward to rub her back soothingly. Azzi inches a little closer to Paige. Here they go.

@azzibuckets @smiths-fan--13 @ch12334

#azzi fudd #fake dating #paige buckets #paige bueckers #pazzi #pazzi fics #the people's princess #uconn wbb #wbb #wcbb

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ayrtonswnna · 12 days ago

Note

hello there!

Can I request a Franco x reader? But where Ayrton Senna is alive in this universe and the reader is Senna? If not, then fine. It's up to you. Thanks in advance 😊😊

ʚɞ a/n: that is my moment!!!!!!!! i often imagine how would it be to have ayrton in contemporary scenarios it's unhealthy lol. i really think he'd be full of jokes and a fun guy just like he was off track. thanks for the request, it was a real nice one to write! (and if anyone has any senna request, i'll be more tham happy to take it! (i'm even willing to write stuff with senna himself))

ʚïɞ "you got me good" FC43

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀↳ masterlist ↳ drop a request! ↳ more franco fluff!

✧₊⁺ franco colapinto x cecília senna (senna!female oc)

✧₊⁺ word count: 1,6k⠀⠀⠀⠀✧₊⁺, gender: crack, fluff.

✧₊⁺ summary: franco and cecília kept a secret relationship and when they decide to come clean, her father was ahead of it and he's a total menace.

✧₊⁺ warnings: alternative universe where that may 1th 1994 didn't happen and ayrton grew old like he deserved to, my hyper focus on that man shown in references, a bit of portuguese properly translated, kinda short and poorly contextualized, curse words, franco is a baby, just soft and light content for the win.

"What do you mean he doesn't know about it?"

Franco took a deep breath, massaging his own scalp as his friend and co-worker continued talking, a mix of excitement and judgment in his words.

"You are not making this any better," he mouthed.

"You are dating his daughter! You are da-ting. The man's daughter. Like... The man's daughter. The hell haven't you met her family!?"

"I am scared, okay!? If I get rejected by her family... It's not just my girlfriend's family. It's simply Senna himself! Should I what!? Drop the job? Hide in a cave?"

Alex laughed, the words and the tone easing the tension. The guy was worried to death and things might be simpler than he thought. Everyone knew Senna was a fun person.

Dating Cecília Senna felt almost like marrying into royalty. It's a good feeling, though. Bagging Cecília Senna could easily be added to one of Franco's big achievements — and he's a former F2 driver called in last minute to fill a Formula One seat — and he's doing great.

But still, it's Cecília Senna, the only child of a legend, someone he looked up to growing up, someone he saw in the paddock many times before ending up in his daughter's sheets.

"Hello, everyone!"

God, his heart might have dropped to the floor just now. The retired driver walked into the garage happily, with his daughter attached to his arm and waving familiarly.

Everyone gathered around them immediately, though Cecília's eyes instantly met Franco's. She knew he was scared and had made fun of him until she couldn't anymore, teasing him in every way she could.

"I've heard the news on the Argentinian! You guys are lucky you got away easily!"

Alright, it's time to pray. What news? That he's fucking his daughter? That they meet every week? That she wanted a Williams' box pass so badly just because of him? Or... That they hid it from everyone just to gain a bit more time?

"We got quality, mate! That's it." Vowels took his cue to fill in the blank, the people dispersing and going back to their work. "Found the kid sparring and made him a beast."

"Yeah, of course," the Brazilian laughed. "What's up, buddy! Feeling the pressure?"

Franco mentally cursed Cecília for raising her eyebrows and doubling the meaning of the question, but he managed to stand up and dry his sweaty hands on his pants.

"I try not to, honestly. Not... think about it a lot," he said, feeling he could have worded the sentence a bit better as they shook hands.

"That's the spirit! I heard a lot about you, little man. Do you know my daughter? Cecília?"

Tricky question. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Tricky question.

If he had heard about it, then he knew about them. Franco could say "yes" and end up with a lecture, or say "no" and be caught in a lie.

"You guys think you are smart, huh? Fooling around, hiding from cameras..."

Oh, it's over. It's over for him. The "drop the job and hide in a cave" plan was almost running in his veins right now. Maybe he should Sebastian Vettel his way around, retire early, and move to a countryside home in Switzerland. Yes, that's a good plan.

"Pai... Para com isso." Cecília shoved her dad's side, rolling her eyes. (Dad... Stop that.)

"What? You guys thought you got away with it?"

"Pai! Ele tá ficando sem graça!" she insisted. (Dad! He's getting uncomfortable!)

Franco thought of speaking up, but the nerves were all up and maybe he should let it be.

"Yeah! He should!" Ayrton still had a serious look on his face, making Franco shiver.

"Pai, sério." (Dad, I'm serious.)

"Sir, I know it—"

"Come on, Franquinho! I'm fooling around, take that scared look off your face!" In a matter of seconds, Ayrton's grin turned into a playful smile, and his arm was hooked over Franco's shoulder, messing up his hair and leaving him even more confused. "Did I scare you? You should have seen your eyes!"

Franco laughed, still a bit dulled. That was a big one.

"You're a bastard," Cecília rolled her eyes once again, aware of the father she had.

The man was a natural jokester, full of little jokes and loved making uncomfortable scenarios in the name of fun. He was a handful.

"And you guys should have told me about this before! You lost it all, Franquinho. Angra, the travels... You need to be introduced to the family!"

He had heard about Angra; the beach house Cecília went to every now and then, how much she and her father loved the place. He even saw an old interview where Ayrton said that his retirement plans included being "Angra's nature inspector."

"Yeah- Yeah, sim." Franco risked some Portuguese, patting Ayrton on the back before they both stepped apart. "Sorry for... for taking too long to meet you, I was- Damn, you got me good."

"I could see!" Senna didn't waste a single laugh. "Don't worry, little boy. You're a good investment. And Cecília is pretty happy, so... you got my support."

"I'm even happier to hear it." Franco chuckled. "Thank you, very much. Your daughter also makes me really happy."

"Of course! Her bad jokes make everyone laugh." Ayrton kept the teasing going. "Now you better show me some racing! I've been in your place and to keep the daughter you need to be as good as dad!"

"You should have seen your face, baby!"

Franco glanced at his girlfriend as he turned his head, their first alone time since the morning's humiliation session.

"I don't wanna talk about it," he mouthed, shirt off and focus switching. "That was traumatizing."

"I told you he's a clown." Her shoulders went up a bit. "But he wasn't lying at the end! He likes you!"

"I got that part. Now I know where you got that dark humor from." The blue-eyed boy stood in the middle of his room, hands on his waist as he let his girlfriend use her eyes.

"What can I say? I am my father's daughter." She smiled mischievously. "He wants you to spend some time, though. Before Vegas, maybe?"

"I could've Max Verstappen my way around and have stayed for the week... But we waited until your dad could scare me to death in the middle of the box so... Yeah, it can be next week." He started simple, voice steady.

But then Cecília approached and her hands liked to touch. All over his torso while she traced a good way for his hair.

"You ain't seen nothing yet." The smile was still on her face, lips coming closer and closer to his. "But I am really happy, you know? Now we can just be and enjoy some time... I can take you to Angra, and I don't need to hide in your driver's room. I was done with pretending I was investing in Williams just so I had a reason to watch the races here."

"Told you about it... You could afford my seat."

Another joke. Ever since he got into F1 as an emergency call, she did say she only had to call her dad and his 2025 seat would be secured.

"You're gonna get it because you deserve it, I am not affording that." She flashed her eyelashes, rimming a single syllable as his hands also started to travel.

Inside her expensive shirt, up and down her back in good pressure before they found room at her waist.

"You know what else I deserve?"

"You freak! Go shower and I'll be waiting for you outside. My dad is around!"

It took them no time. Within weeks, Ayrton and Franco became partners in crime, and suddenly, Cecília was having a taste of her own medicine.

"Turn it off! Now!" Ayrton whispered in a screaming tone, the last signal Franco needed before turning off the power for the whole house.

Cecília had just come back from the beach and Franco finally knew the Angra house. It was dark, and the prank was not very well planned.

"Porra." (Shit.) they heard the Brazilian swearing. "Que inferno, de novo? PAAAAI?" (What the hell, again? DAAAAD?)

He knew some words in Portuguese and it only made it funnier. Him and his father-in-law were hiding in the small laundry room as Cecília searched for them.

"Ready, kid?"

"No, but I'll do it anyways."

"Good kid. You're a great one." The old man, as a new custom, messed with the Argentinian's hair, before opening the door and waiting for him to leave.

"Eu juro, se vocês estiverem armando pra cima de mim eu— Ah— FRANCO! NO!" (I swear, if you guys are planning something against me I—)

He's fast even with his limited knowledge about the furniture in the house, walking in the dark before he could lift her and throw her over his shoulder.

It's the fourth time she's thrown in the pool and she just knows it's her father opening the glass door for the exterior area before she's sinking in cold water.

"I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU ALL!" Cecília screamed. "I JUST WASHED MY HAIR! OH MY GOD! PUTTING YOU TWO TOGETHER WAS THE WORST THING I EVER DID!"

"Não reclama, princesinha..." (Don't you complain, little princess...) her father played, now standing besides her boyfriend. "Bate aqui, you passed the test. Welcome to the family." (High five,)

"I hate you guys. Eu odeio vocês, los odio. Whatever. Don't ever talk to me again." Cecília stomped her way out of the pool, walking straight past them.

"Don't get mad, baby... It's just a joke!"

"Well, boy... It's your girlfriend. Go ease her nerves. You're called Colapinto for a reason."

ʚïɞ ayrtonswnna, 2024. check my masterlist or drop a request (: reblogs and feedback are always welcome (:

#lele writes ʚɞ #formula 1 #f1 #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #formula one #imagine #formula one fluff #formula one fluff imagine #franco colapinto fluff #franco colapinto imagine #franco colapinto #franco colapinto x oc #franco colapinto x reader #senna!oc #franco colapinto x senna!daughter #senna!reader #ayrton senna #williams racing

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discopaddock · 9 months ago

Text

I DON'T WANNA TALK - CHARLES LECLERC

SUMMARY: charles is mad after the bad race, what can go wrong after screaming at his girlfriend?

PAIRING: charles leclerc x fem!reader

GENRE: angst with happy (???) ending

WORD COUNT: 0.9k

WARNINGS: screaming, crying, charles is mad, traumatizing childhood and parent, ENGLISH ISN'T NY FIRST LANGUAGE

AUTHOR'S NOTE: hiya, was inactive for a (longer) moment, school still sucks, inspiration is taking offence at me and history at school does kill me right now fr (we started the great war recently and watched im westen nichts neues - i hate this kind of films). anyway this was based in this request.

Charles was angry. No, he was furious.

Race didn't go well. He had to retire after Perez touched him and he ended up in the wall.

Race was good, for two laps he was even leading but then the Mexican showed up and Charles’ good race said “bye bye”.

“Charles,” his girlfriend said after they were finally in their hotel room.

He wasn't in the mood for talking. He didn't want her pity. He wanted to take a shower (another one) and scream in his pillow.

The girl was looking at him, worried. This wasn't the state she has seen him for many times. It was the first time actually.

“I don't wanna talk” he answered only and grabbed some clothes of his and entered the bathroom.

“If you’d like to-” she started but he turned around to face her with anger written on his face, panting.

“Shut up!” Charles yelled at her and entered the bathroom. She was left speechless. There were tears forming in her eyes that started falling down when she heard the slam of the door.

Oh, she really didn't want it to come back.

Life was good, great even, then those memories came to her mind, causing another session of crying.

The girl had no idea what to do.

Her eyesight wasn't so clear as she was looking for the tissues, convinced that her make up was smeared as hell.

When she finally found some in her bag, she next jumped on the bed and covered herself with the blanket.

Her heart was hurt, it didn't crack in shatters but still it hurt as hell.

She felt like that seven year old girl, who was standing in front of her father, crying because he yelled at her.

She was screamed at because of trying to make her dad come to terms with her beloved mother.

It was too much for little Y/N. It hunted her for years.

Especially now, when her and Charles were trying everything to have a baby. She was frightened she became the same as her father and her child would have to experience the same case as she had.

And now it was too much for adult Y/N.

She knew she should meet her therapist as soon as she could but she couldn't since she was travelling with her boyfriend around Asia for the next two weeks and her therapist wasn't doing online appointments.

And there she was, still lying on her side of the king-size bed covered with a blanket and still crying.

Charles wasn't aware of his girlfriend's reaction to his behaviour until he left the bathroom, all showered and with a clear mind, and heard sobs in the room.

He sighed only and went to the bed and took a seat beside the girl. He carefully took off the blanket of her face and saw her with smeared make up, red eyes and runny nose.

She didn't want to talk with him and put her head in the pillow, so he couldn't look at her.

“I'm sorry-” he started but her hushed by the pillow voice interrupted him with:

“I don't wanna talk.”

So Charles didn't talk more but kissed her head quickly and left to the living room, to give her space he knew she needed.

The next hour went, well, silent.

Y/N wasn't sobbing anymore, just blowing off her nose and coughing from time to time. Charles at the other hand was thinking about his new song and was trying to write any notes but he lacked at stave paper and at any keyboard or piano.

The girl finally got out of the bed and entered the bathroom. She grabbed some cotton pads and put micellar water on it and began to remove her make up.

It was a heavenly feeling for her, since her eyelids were sticking to each other because of the mascara.

Next she grabbed some cleaning foam and removed the rest of the cosmetics and put on the cream.

The girl left the bathroom and went to Charles who was sitting on the couch with some folded paper around.

He heard her steps and turned around to see her face.

“Ready to talk?” he asked only and she nodded, then sat beside him. “I'm sorry, truly” he said, looking into her eyes, that he loved so much. Now they were puffed and red from the crying.

“I know” she answered and hugged him like a koala. Charles wrapped his arms around her body, without saying any words.

“What happened?” the man asked, rubbing her back with his palm. “Tell me, I'm not leaving this without any explanation,” he added in a calm tone.

The girl was silent for a few moments. But then she told him only:

“Father was screaming at me for trying to help.”

Charles was speechless. He knew his girlfriend’s relationship with her father wasn't good, but he didn't know it was that bad. He never asked since her mother told him not to for the girl's mental state.

“I'm sorry, dove. I'm so sorry” he whispered to her ear, trying to comfort her the best he could.

“I don't want to be like him” she mumbled in the crock of his neck and he sighed.

“You are not like him,” he assured her. “You will never be like him,” he added and kissed her temple. “You are a better person than him, dove.”

“I love you” she mumbled.

“I love you too” she whispered back and they remained silent for the rest of the night, cuddled in each other’s arms.

masterlist

#discopaddock #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 oneshot #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc #charles lecrelc #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc one shot

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latenightdaydreams · 5 months ago

Note

Hi!

What about a pervert!König that finds a tiny!reader? Like small. Doll size? But König is sexually attracted to her and wants to keep her as a little toy? AHHHH sorry if it’s dark I just can’t stop thinking about it🤦🏾‍♀️

I love your writing! Thank you💛

Thank you!!💖

König x Doll Sized!Reader (fem)

MDNI🔞

Master List

Part 2

>cw: fem/afab, power difference, masturbation, voyeurism, confinement, non-con.

1.6k word count

Once König retired, he purchased land in the countryside of Austria. His new goal in life is to live a life of peace and comfort. Near his home, there is a small stream next to a field of colorful wildflowers. It’s like a little slice of heaven on earth; especially when he found you.

König found you walking in the field. He nearly stepped on you the first time. You’re tiny, like a living Barbie doll. After a few visits, you trusted him, coming closer to him to talk to him. You show off your little crafts that you make with what nature gives you.

You’re precious and have become somewhat of an obsession for König. Every day, you’re the first thought on his mind. To hear your tiny voice, see your eyes sparkle, just to be in your presence is a gift.

Today he packs a bag with doll clothes he recently purchased for you, a few sweets that you always request and lunch to share with you. This is his daily routine, eventually hoping to get you to trust him enough to willingly enter his home.

König arrives at the field and sits, opening up a picnic blanket before setting things out. In no time, you show up. The giant man stares down at you with a cheerful smile, moving over on the blanket to make room for you.

“Hallo, y/n!” König can’t control his excitement with you. “How have you been since I saw you last?”

“König!” You return the warm smile. “I’ve been well. How about you?”

His eyes travel up and down your body as you were a purple doll dress he gave to you yesterday. You’re so tiny, yet so curvy. He fantasizes about what you would look like with no clothes on nearly every second of every day. Do you look like a human woman?

“Well…” His gaze lingers. “I went shopping for you again.”

“You’re so sweet.” You smile while watching him dig through his bag.

König turns to you, holding a doll's bikini and another dress, but pink this time. You squeal with excitement as König hands them to you. He studies you, wishing you’d try them on in front of him.

“Do you like them?” He asks while handing you the bag of sweets.

“I do!” You pivot your attention to the sweets, tiptoeing to peer into the bag.”

“Can I show you photos of something I’ve been working on for you?” König asks while taking his phone out.

“Yes!”

He opens his photo app to show you photos of a dollhouse that has been transformed to look like a modern, cozy home. König has been working hard to make it a lure to get you interested in a visit. As you look at the photos, he watches your face closely, trying to read your reaction.

“You did this? For me?” You gaze up in awe at your kind giant friend.

“All for you. For whenever you want to visit, you can have your own space to not feel overwhelmed.” He says so innocently.

“Wow…I would love to see it sometime.” You gaze at the image of the small closet with clothes he’s picked out for you. “All that’s for me?”

“Well, you are the only Fae I know.” He chuckles.

“Fae?”

“Like… tiny person. Not exactly human. It’s a compliment. They’re beautiful, just like you.”

A small blush appears on your face when he calls you beautiful. He’s your first human interaction. For centuries, you’ve been told to avoid them, but König has shown you that not all humans are the same.

König lets the silence linger in the air for a brief moment before testing the waters once more. “Like I said, anytime you want to come over. I’d be happy to have you.” And he means have.

You look around at the flowers before turning back up to him. “I’d like to go now. For a short while.”

König’s eyes light up. He tries to suppress his excitement to not scare you off. With haste, he packs up his bag again. One of his large hands opens up on the blanket. “I can carry you since it would be a long walk for you.”

There is a look of hesitation in your eyes as you gaze down at his large calloused hand.

“I promise, I won't drop or squeeze you.”

With his promise, you sit in his palm. The feeling of your warm miniature body resting on his palm felt…his mind began to wonder what you would feel like sitting on other parts of him. Once you are comfortable, he stands, pulling the blanket up too.

Each step is taken with the utmost care to make sure he doesn’t trip and drop you. You look down from over his fingers and feel nervous being so high up. König’s heart is thumping in his chest at the thought of finally capturing you. Months of getting close to you have all paid off.

Inside his home, it feels massive to you. He closes and locks the door behind him, the latch making a loud clicking sound. “This is my home.” König speaks softly as he walks you around the first floor before bringing you upstairs.

“This is my office,” he opens the first door for you to look into, “then right over here is the bathroom.” König stalls in each room to let you look around. He watches as you look around in wonder.

There is one more door at the end of the hall that he opens. “This is my bedroom.” It’s simple but neatly organized. König isn’t a very materialistic man and it shows. He walks into his bedroom, closing the door behind him. You can hear the sound of the lock again, but think nothing of it. He walks to his bed and places you on it.

The soft surface under you is comfortable as you let yourself fall back onto it. A laugh comes from König as he watches you enjoy his bed. “This bed is so comfortable.”

“Then you’ll love yours.” König holds his hand out to grab you. Once you sit back down on his palm, he turns, opening his closet door. The closet looks more like a small bedroom, even complete with natural lighting. You look around, eyes falling to where the doll house sits in the corner. Slowly and gently, he sets his hands on the floor for you to get out and walk to it.

König stands back up and closes the door behind him as you rush to the dollhouse and explore it all. You run up to your own bedroom and look into the closet at all the clothes. “Why don’t you try some on?”

Without a second thought, you strip from your purple dress exposing your body to König for the first time. König would feel his cock instantly harden. You look beautiful, exactly like a woman. As your attention is focused on picking out an outfit, König shoves one hand into his pants and leans back against the wall. He grabs his cock and strokes it as his eyes are glued to your breasts bouncing and ass shaking. What does your pussy look like? Taste like?

You hear a loud huff coming from behind you. Slowly turning around to see König in the corner masturbating to you. You rush to put your dress back on, but he steps forward.

“Nein, stay like this.” His voice is shaky from pleasure.

König can sense that you’re uncomfortable. He kneels down and undoes his pants, quickly pulling out his cock. His other hand reaches out to try and touch you, but you recoil.

“Don’t make me get the jar.” König’s voice deepens.

A shiver runs down your spine. The jar? You look at him and realize he is exactly like every other human. All the stories about their perversions are true.

König watches as you just gaze up at him with an untrusting look. His breathing gets heavier as he looks at you. “Lay on the bed.”

You stand for a while before deciding to comply, his eyes following you like a hungry dog. As you lay down, he looks over your body with an intense gaze. “Touch yourself.”

For a moment you think about it, maybe if you just play along, he’ll let you free and then you can just hide from him forever again. You spread your legs open and begin to circle your clit. König watches in awe as his moans get louder.

Your body is perfect. If you were human, you'd be his perfect woman. He wants to run his tongue all over your body, touch every inch, but that can wait. For now, he will accept this...for now it's enough.

“Y/n.” He whispers before he sits up and cums on you.

Thick warm globs of sticky whiteness fall on your stomach and breasts, also scattering along the floor and bed. The smell overwhelms you, it’s repulsive. König looks at the mess he’s made and it only arouses him further. You look gorgeous soaked in cum.

König stands up and puts himself back in his pants, leaving you in there for a moment. He comes back with a towel and begins to clean the floor around you. “Clean yourself with the blanket, I’ll wash it.”

You comply and clean up, getting dressed again in your purple dress. Acting as calm as possible you smile up at König. “This house is beautiful, thank you again. I think I’d like to go home now.”

“This is your home.”

“No—”

“Ja, es ist.”

Your stomach churns. “König.” You say in a pleading tone.

He stares down at you with a serious glare. Without a word, he slowly stands up and turns away, walking out of the closest and leaving you trapped within.

Part 2

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