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sordidmusings · 3 days ago

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!!!OP MANGA SPOILERS DUDE!!!

I can’t stop thinking about Shanks and Shamrock stealing you from each other.

Summary: First is Shamrock, seeing Shanks’ happiness from having you and both wanting to have that for himself and also simply wanting to keep it from the other. Second is Shanks, saving you from being Shamrock’s plaything and inadvertently gaining the same obsession for you. Both must have made the other think you were dead to keep you, because there’s no way they wouldn’t raze the world to get you back if they knew you were out there.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: NSFW themes but no explicit descriptions of sex - more dances around it and focuses more on the acts around it and the implications of those, gn reader

Very yandere style, especially on Shamrock’s part. There’s a place where Shanks could be doing it for the right reasons - maybe on that trip back to Mariejois, he spied on his relatives and saw your mistreatment and just had to save you. Saving you and keeping you just blurred into the same thing because, after all, where are you safer than at the side of the great Emperor?

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Shamrock doesn’t need to delude himself into feeling like the Good Guy. If he wants something, he takes it. Who’s gonna stop him? It’s his right to have whatever he wants. He’ll just add you to the collection of people he keeps to worship him - and worship him they do. He’s a god amongst men, power and divinity made flesh, a walking idol and altar.

But you don’t. Yes, you wake him before the sun, wash his body with reverence, groom and clothe him, bring him his food and press it to his lips, follow him more dutifully than his shadow, allow him rights to your body night and day, but he can see the rebellion you have stored away deep, where you can wrap your soul in it thick enough to keep even him out. You never truly fought him more strongly than hesitation on orders, but his sight is as strong as Shanks'. He knows you give your love to the little cockroaches causing chaos in the world, praying to them in your heart even when your lips move to speak devotion to him. He wonders how often you pray for Shanks and it makes him angry enough to think of cracking the world open.

He tried breaking you. Shamrock had been raised to meet love with cruelty from his first breath, so it was quite easy. He berated you, isolated you, ran you ragged, but you’d just meet him with outward obedience. He watched as your internal and external worlds grew more dissonant and you got even farther from him. His anger grew such that he didn’t notice the empty pit beneath it.

How did Shanks get your love? He was a jovial fool so he likely showered you in sweet things and affection. He could try that.

But Shamrock wasn’t built for affection. It rang hollow, forced and insincere. Now even that pissed him off. He can do anything, why not this? Why was it so easy for Shanks? He doesn’t care if it was something he looked down on, he needed to be better than everyone at everything. The fear that failing at perfection set in him was something he never wanted to address. He shouldn’t need to; he was born of god’s blood and gods. don’t. fail.

You were more gracious than Shamrock deserved through his attempts. Trinkets were accepted and kept with the utmost care, even when you wanted to smash them beneath your feet. Fingers running over your scalp, a bit too rough to be calming (unlike the ones you missed so so dearly), were accepted placidly even when you wanted to turn and bite at them until you felt crunching bone. Lavish clothes were worn for all to see then later stripped before his eyes. Each time, the urge to scream would lessen as you simply lived somewhere inside of you where this felt Nice. Where you didn’t feel like a fattened pig getting patronizing pets and farcical adoration, all given not for what you are now but for the bacon they’d one day be chewing.

Shamrock got more desperate the more he tried affection. You leaned into his advances with more habit and ease and he found he loved it. He didn’t know if it was because of the novelty of getting closer to his goal of completely owning you or if he genuinely enjoyed the softness. He didn’t care. Either way, he was closer to invading that little place in you kept for yourself, right beyond the love you kept for Shanks. Once he was there, he didn’t care if your devotion was from obligation or love, so long as it all belonged to him.

Or so he thought.

One night, when he was getting his fill of you, it was different. You were different. You didn’t just let him do as he pleased and follow orders; you met him with your own wants and actions. Your hands weren’t just docile, they were seeking. Your breath wasn’t placid, it was canting. Your lips weren’t soothing, they were ravenous. And your voice - your voice. It held him captive in its tones, each one full of praise and pleasure and need. He’d never felt the bloom and rush of adrenaline come to life in his chest like it did when you kissed your way to his ear to rest your temples together and sing your praises right against the shell.

It hit Shamrock that this is what wanted all along - adoration given willingly, not dredged out through fear and necessity. He’d had it offered to him by hundreds and thousands, but none felt as good as earning it from you. Your loving touch had washed the anger straight out of him, exposing the yawning maw of that empty pit in his being. He shook in its presence but then you held him tighter, kissed him warmer, and it began filling drop by drop. He set a promise in his soul to do whatever he could to keep you treating him like this - no matter the cost, no matter the action, no matter the brutality, no matter the humiliation.

What Shamrock didn’t know, was that he didn’t destroy that stronghold in you; you simply enfolded him in it for a short while. You wanted to pretend. You wanted to live in love again, even if just for a bit, even if it wasn’t real.

But you had to be careful.

If you sighed Shanks’ name, you’re sure he’d kill you.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

While Shamrock’s story was of breaking your will, Shanks' story is of breaking your fear.

Your whole life is built around it. Fear is your drive, fear is every interaction. Fear both steals and drives your breath, fear steals and shapes your every dream. Most of all, fear is home and fear is safety.

Shanks' heart aches at what Shamrock made of you. Is there a person in there beyond the wounded animal? Or are they so far beyond reach they may as well be dead?

Seeing you, a ball of survival instinct made at once of tempered obedience and frantic reactivity, has him even more sure of all his choices to stay far away from the life his blood could afford him. Sure, the world is cruel and has broken many a man in their search for goods and glory and freedom, but not like this. This could only be achieved by a conscious effort hell bent on complete domination, knowledgeable in cruelty and uncaring for suffering.

Shanks is sure that freedom would save you, but freedom doesn't sit so well on you. Freedom is dangerous, freedom is unpredictable. Freedom sets a panic in you just as deep as Shamrock’s cruelty. What if you do something wrong? What if Shanks is testing you? What if you get punished? What if you make it worse?

Despite all of his patience and coaxing, you cling tightly to the devil you know, sinking your fingers in deep enough to bruise you both.

Shanks isn't one to give up though. Especially because instead of annoying him like you both thought this inevitably would, it gives him a new sense of purpose. He's no stranger to being a guardian - if anything it's a role he ends up inhabiting naturally in the majority of his relationships. It's just cranked up to eleven with you.

Shanks lets his crew (and just about only his crew) embrace you in their presence and cheer, loving that it helps some smiles shine more honestly on you. You were taken in readily and easily; Shanks’ crew is well attuned to him and follow his feelings for things like it's second nature. The times they disagree do exist but are few and far between. As Shanks orbited closer and closer to you, one of those cropped up.

Beckman had concerns for your purpose there, your safety, your future. Concerns about Shanks' intent. They only grew when Shanks shut down any discussion on the matter. At first it was waving Beckman off with his easy smiles and promises that he's just keeping you safe and enjoys having you around. That's no crime right? When Beckman presses him to be serious, he sees a crackle of energy in Shanks' eyes that’s saved for their worst enemies.

Beckman backs off. While he still worries for his friend and captain (somethings not right about that unexplainable fervor-), you are not worth making an enemy of him.

Shanks doesn't see the obsession with which he treats you. He doesn't see how not only his habits and his life begin to revolve around you but his heart and mind too. You're his first concern when he wakes and his last wish before he sleeps. You're the rudder steering his decisions, your comfort and well being influencing everything. What influences him most though is the possibility of earning your love and devotion. The idea alone that you could one day turn to him and tell him that he makes you feel safe drives Shanks forward like a wolf snapping at the ankles of a sprinting elk.

Where before he would give you space to learn autonomy, Shanks saves you from that fearful task by always holding you close. You know what you're supposed to do if he has an arm around your shoulder or plops you in his lap; you follow him, you melt into him, you keep him smiling and laughing and happy. It's much nicer than the way Shamrock would hold and direct you - there's never any pain or punishment and there is always reward.

While Shanks doesn't decorate himself in riches, he has more than most lifetimes could accrue. He passes them to you readily, finding a deep-seated pleasure in seeing you dressed in treasures he gave you. While he's happy to see you in anything of his (his heart nearly stopped then burst whenever he managed to convince you to wear his shirts or cloak), the pricy and rare objects being something only he could give you sates him. It shuts up a tiny panicked voice saying that you might leave, that Shamrock may come back and scoop you up and actually win your love this time.

He knows how ridiculous the idea is; your fear for Shamrock is so great he doesn't even know if you have room for hate beside it. But Shanks doesn't care. The idea of you just being gone puts a vice in his chest and a whirlwind in his head and he forgets how to breathe and how to think. It sets a tremble through his bones that reminds him of his worst days - pain and loss and death - and he thinks it's a curse that you both must live with panic beside each other. Now, if you were to live with each other, then surely all you would both know is happiness.

Shanks has won over countless women (and men and otherwise for that matter) so he simply starts using what he's learned to win you too.

Shanks tells you such nice things. He tells you how beautiful you are, how resilient you are, how lucky he is to have gotten you. You don’t believe a word of it even though you can tell he means it. But it’s still nice to hear. Each time you do, it gets a touch easier to pretend he’s not lying. If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Figarlands, though, it's that they’ll chase what they want with all that they have, no matter the cost or consequences. For some reason, he has decided that you are what he wants, so you’ll make it easy and skip all the drastic measures.

Shanks lasts as long as he could stand before he tries getting under your clothes. By the time he folds to his wants, they've grown into a great beast always clawing at his back, weighing him down, making him ache. He'd begun gritting his teeth every time he saw you, flinching at your touch before settling to it, looking away before taking you in, pinching his lips before forcing a smile. It had you terrified.

What did you do wrong? Did he find out how worthless you are? Was he forcing the whole time? Does he hate you now? Is he going to get rid of you? You need to fix it.

Shanks last bit of resolve breaks when he sees you approaching him, shaking in your boots but trying to keep a brave face, and the first bit of determination he's seen in you twists your face in a frown. He's seen the starting pieces of a personality come back to you - intelligence when you help problem solve around the ship, playfulness when you're loose from a night of drinking with the crew, compassion when you sit with anyone who's hurting - but this is your first time taking initiative for a want. And that want has to do with him. Just as it should.

You barely get out a question before he's whisking you away to "talk privately". You barely get through the door to his cabin before his lips are on yours. You barely make it out of your clothes before falling in his bed.

Touch is something you hated for a long time. Touch meant pain and panic. Shanks teaches you that touch means so much more. It started with the casual touch and little shows of affection, but none of that compared to this. Shanks touches every piece of you he can find and finds every way to make it feel good. He's greedy for your body but he's also greedy for your pleasure, gorging himself on it yet never finding his fill. He's domineering in how he moves and bends you to find it, in how he directs you to his whims. It's softened by whispers of love and devotion, sweetened by his flushed face and sweet kisses and shining eyes. It sets your chest on fire, especially when he seeks your praise. He ties his mind to it as a tether to make it through the calamity shredding through him.

You don't care what he asks of you. You don't care what restrictions he sets. You don't care what choices he takes from you. You think this must be what love is supposed to feel like. It wrings tight around you and infects you and helps you forget yourself. Despite the squeeze, there's no pain. There's no fear. Shanks can take care of that for you.

Shanks' fate is set as surely as yours when you admit to him, "I've never felt safe before." Before. He never thought he'd care so much for the word but right now it's everything. It's your first proclamation of love, first admission that you need him.

As much as he'd trap you to his side, you have Shanks bound to yours. He'll bend his future, his needs, his morals for you. He'll worship you like a dying man begging forgiveness before his judgment. Ask anything you want of him and it's yours. Just don't ever ask to leave.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

Thank you for reading the rambles my sweets!! I’m taken enough with the idea that I may have to write some scenes from each of these plot lines. Maybe also reaction for when they find out that the other had taken you. Please let me know if you’re interested as it will make that more likely!

Tag list: @uh-hah @schoute @hannahbarberra162 @feral-artistry @mytanuki-kun

Again, I am redoing my tag list so please tell me explicitly that you’d like to be added if you would! Assumptions make me feel like I am Bothering 🧍‍♀️

Masterlist

#one piece spoilers #op spoilers #one piece manga #op manga spoilers #elbaf spoilers #shanks x reader #shamrock x reader #red haired shanks #figarland shamrock #reader insert #headcanons #shanks x reader x shamrock #gn reader #yandere shanks #yandere shamrock #yandere one piece #yandere x reader #one piece x reader #my writing

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covenofagatha · 1 day ago

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Do I wanna know? (Part 3)

Agatha and you have a talk about the future

Word count: 4k

Warnings: 69, oral, smut, angst (hopefully not as much), why would you ever talk about feelings/problems when you could just fuck instead

“What? What part?” you ask, your voice sounding unfamiliar to your own ears. “If it’s the City, it’s fine, that’s not far away, you could even stay here.”

Agatha purses her lips. “It’s in Albany.”

Your stomach drops. Two hours away by car on a good day, about four by train. Agatha has a pitiful look on her face and you want to scoff.

Of course she’s feeling sorry for you.

“Honey,” she starts, cool and calm as ever and it makes you fucking enraged. She reaches out to touch you again — why does she keep trying to do that? why doesn’t she realize that she isn’t going to fix anything? — but you shove her aside and scramble off the couch, beginning to pace with your head in your hands.

Is this better than the affair? She still lied to you. She still didn’t tell you about it, she’s still looking to get out. “Why didn’t you say anything?” you demand, pausing to look at her.

Her jaw tightens. “I didn’t — I didn’t want to before it got real. I wasn’t even sure I was going to go, but my friend reached out and it’s a really good opportunity. The company took me out to dinner last night as an informal interview and I ended up staying the night. I didn’t think you’d come here, I thought you were mad at me or something. Baby, I was really worried about you.”

In any other situation, you’d feel touched by her concern, but it really just pisses you off even more. This isn’t about you. “I thought you were having an affair,” you say again and her face falls.

“I would never—”

You don’t even want to hear it. “Look, don’t change the subject, okay? The point is, you did this huge thing without even telling me and now — what? You’re moving to New York?”

Now she seems unable to meet your eyes, an uncharacteristic shyness radiating off her. “I haven’t even gotten the job yet.”

Your mind starts to whirl with the possibilities. “If you get it, are you going to take it?”

There’s a thick silence that hangs over you two for a moment and you can see the vein in her forehead pulse as she thinks about it. But her hesitation is all the answer you need.

“Okay,” you breathe. You don’t even know where your head is at — you’re so fucking mad, but you’re also so relieved that she isn’t cheating, but then now there’s this wrench that could possibly mean the end of things. You’re not going to let that happen. Dropping to your knees in front of her and finally touching her of your own accord with your palms flat on her legs, you earnestly look at her. “We can…we can figure it out, we will figure it out. I can come down on the weekends or you can come here or — I can transfer! I’ll transfer to somewhere in New York and we can get an apartment, just the two of us, and obviously I won’t be much help with the rent because it’s expensive as shit there—”

Agatha pulls you up by your cheeks and kisses you, effectively shutting you up. You lose yourself in the feeling of her lips against yours and you moan softly, everything slipping away for just a moment. In these five seconds, it’s just the two of you and nothing else can come between you.

But then she breaks away and sighs heavily, resting her forehead against yours. “You just started school here,” she says gently. “I can’t make you give that up. Don’t you like it?”

You shrug lazily. “It’s the first week. I’m not too attached. I’m sure somewhere there will be just as good.”

“What about your parents? What would you tell them?”

Why does it feel like she doesn’t want you there? You can’t help the frown tugging on your lips. “I’ll just say that I don’t like it at Westview. I’m sure I can come up with something. They’ll just want me to be happy.” Agatha makes you happy, but there’s a flicker of doubt growing in your stomach.

She cups your cheek and leans back so you’re able to see her eyes. They’re blue as the ocean, full of emotion, and glassy. “Why don’t you give it a few months, hm? I don’t want you to throw away your school and your family just for me. If you really don’t like it, then we can talk.”

“What if I just drop out of school and become your trophy wife? I’ll be such a good one, I’d wear nothing but an apron all day and make your favorite foods and then I can sit on your strap while you eat dinner.” You play it off like a joke, but deep down, you would be more than willing. You hope she says yes.

Agatha huffs out a laugh and sniffs, tracing a finger down the skin of your face like she’s trying to memorize it. “Wear a short little maid outfit that just happens to ride up and show off your bare cunt when you’re on your knees cleaning the floor?”

You hum and close your eyes in pure bliss at the thought. “See, now you get it. It would be so perfect, right?

“So perfect,” she agrees, but her smile lingers until it’s wistful. There’s a longing pang inside you, one that threatens to tear you open, but you push it down. “I know I haven’t gotten it yet, but I won’t take it,” she says quietly after a moment and your brows furrow in confusion. “If you don’t want me to take it, I won’t.”

Every single morsel of your body is screaming for you to ask her to stay. It would be so easy, and then you could just pretend that none of this — the suspicion, the lies, the sneaking around — never happened. Everything could go back to the way it was before.

But the slightest fear that she would start to resent you for it creeps into the back of your mind. Sure, she might not mind at first, but over time when her job here gets old and she’s unhappy, she’s going to blame you. She’s going to start to hate you for holding her back, and what if you’re not worth it?

The last thought hits you like a punch to the gut. Are you enough to keep her content if she stays? Are you enough to keep her happy?

You’re paralyzed and she’s looking at you expectantly, like it’s an easy fucking decision. You want to complain that it’s not fair for her to put this on you, that she should want to be with you so badly that she willingly gives up the new position for you, but maybe she’s having the same doubts.

The only thing you know is that you don’t want to end up like your parents, with a loveless marriage and a cold, empty house despite the family living in it and the bitter silence of words left unsaid haunting every moment. You don’t want this to become an open wound that festers until Agatha hates you for it.

“If it’s a better job and if you want it, you should take it,” you say, almost surprised by how eerily calm your voice sounds.

Agatha looks taken aback for just the slightest moment but nods. “You’re sure?”

No! Stay with me! I fucking love you!

“Yeah,” you rasp and she bends down to kiss you again, so sweetly that it hurts. She murmurs something against your lips but you don’t even think to ask what she says because you can’t stop the nausea climbing up your throat.

You jump back and run to the bathroom before vomiting in the toilet. You sink to the floor, shaking and sweating and trembling, and you’re vaguely aware of Agatha’s hands in your hair, holding it back, and telling you that everything is going to be alright. Is it?

She gets a wet washcloth and holds it against your head while you don’t move from your position, waiting to see if you have to puke again.

“Had too much to drink last night,” you mutter, feeling like you’re drunk all over again, when she asks if you’re feeling okay. “Thought you were cheating.”

You hear a heavy sigh behind you and tears prick your eyes. Is she disappointed? Does she think you’re being just a stupid kid? “I wouldn’t, honey. I wouldn’t do that. I promise. I—” She stops and strokes your hair instead.

It feels like there’s something she’s not saying, but maybe you’re just reading into it.

And then there’s your I love you while she was fucking you, still fresh in your mind. Do you say it again? Do you ask if she heard it? Or just wait until she says it first?

If she does. You can’t get these stupid insecurities and doubts out of your mind and it’s killing you.

“Do you feel like you’re going to throw up again?” she asks gently and you shake your head. “Come on, why don’t we get you into the shower and then into bed?”

You want to protest just to be petulant, but you’re just so fucking tired. “Okay, mommy,” you say and she sharply inhales, but pretends to be unaffected. Good to know that you can still get to her after you look like you’ve just been through hell.

She turns the water on and you numbly wait until she guides you up and helps you undress before you step into the shower. You almost buckle to the ground but Agatha holds you up, the sleeves of her blazer getting soaked, but she doesn’t even notice it.

It’s an awkward position, her on the outside of the tub and you barely standing up inside it, but she rubs your skin and you slowly feel warmth returning to your body.

You’re about to ask if she’ll get in with you — you see the way she can’t stop looking at your tits and you’re suddenly longing to feel her on you, a reminder that she is yours — when a phone rings.

Definitely not yours; your phone is always on silent.

Agatha curses and tells you she’ll be right back before disappearing from the bathroom. The cold feeling starts to grow back in your stomach, creeping up to your throat and gripping tightly.

“Yes — this is she!” you hear her say from the other room, her voice getting louder as she comes back into the bathroom. You look at her with wide eyes and she gives you a tight smile. “Oh, I did? Well, thank you very much, that is wonderful news.”

The person on the other line starts talking and you can only catch quick muffles of it, but from Agatha’s face, you already know.

“Of course, yes, hang on just one second,” she says and presses her phone against her shoulder to give you her full attention. Eye contact with her feels like a stab to the gut. “Honey, are you sure you’re okay with this? You can say no.”

Can you?

It’s on the tip of your tongue — it would be so easy to ask her to turn it down, so easy to ask her to choose you. She’s waiting for an answer but each drop of water on your skin feels like a chant: no. no. no. You know Agatha’s trying to remain neutral, but you can tell she wants the job, by the way she’s twitching her fingers and the barely concealed pleading look on her face and the way she’s holding her phone so tightly it’s making her veins pop out all bluish and purplish.

It’s clear that you cannot say no.

You’re not sure she would ever forgive you, and you’re not sure you would ever forgive yourself. You can’t ask her to throw away this opportunity, not for you.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you say hoarsely, feeling a lot like you just signed a death warrant.

But plenty of people do long distance, and two hours really isn’t that bad. Plus it just means that with all the waiting, the sex will be even hotter. Her moving away doesn’t mean anything.

And you can transfer at the end of the semester, so really you just have to make it a few months.

Agatha’s beam is one of pure gratitude and you know you made the right choice, but she’s back to talking on the phone and your little moment is interrupted. “Oh…two weeks? Of course, I can totally do that.”

A flash of panic bolts through you and you mouth two weeks? at her. She purses her lips and shrugs apologetically, like that’s supposed to make you feel better.

The rest of her phone call is blurred out by your sudden inability to hear anything but the rush of the water that has suddenly become so loud it’s taken over all your thoughts and you don’t even realize that she’s hung up and cleaned you off and gotten you out of the shower until you’re shivering and naked and Agatha’s wrapping a towel around you.

“Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay,” she murmurs because you’re now uncontrollably shaking and you think you might be crying a little. “Everything’s going to be okay.” She presses kisses to your forehead and cheeks and nose, muttering the same sort of sentients, while the towel around you slips to the floor when you throw your arms around her and cling to her like she’s your lifeline, like she’s everything you’ll ever need, and she holds you back so tightly you think you might fuse into one being.

The two of you stand there like that until your skin gets clammy and pruney and your eyes are raw. When you finally pull back, your muscles ache and the front of Agatha’s clothes are absolutely soaked, so you tug on them until she gets the message and begins to strip.

Her blazer comes off, and then she untucks her blouse from her pants and slowly begins to unbutton it, each time revealing more of her perfect pale skin. You can see the faint outlines of her ribs and then her stomach, the red bites from two days ago still there, albeit faded.

There’s no mistaking the “M” though. A hot thrill runs through you despite the solemn air between you and a fire starts to flicker to life in your stomach. You reach out to trace your mark as if in a trance and Agatha’s breath hitches.

Swallowing roughly, your eyes dart up to meet her already-dark ones. “We should talk about the job, right? Figure out what it means for us?” you ask, but even as the words leave your mouth, you can feel the atmosphere shift into something else.

“Right,” Agatha nods, but she can’t stop looking down at your pebbled nipples — from the cold or from her?

When she surges forward, clasps your cheeks, and pulls your mouth to hers, you know that it’s both. The kiss is messy, teeth knocking against each other and her tongue invading your mouth and breathing each other’s air, and you wrap your arms around her neck to bring her even closer. She didn’t get to take her pants off yet, but it feels absolutely delicious when she slides a thigh between yours and you grind down onto it. Your nipples brush against the fabric of her bra and you can’t help but moan into her open mouth.

Fire roars beneath your skin, spreading to all over your body, and you suddenly just need more. You need her to overwhelm all your senses until you can’t fucking think about anything else, not the job, not her moving, not the fact that you could’ve stopped this but didn’t — you just want her.

She grabs onto your hip to guide you against her leg and you whine as she sucks on your tongue. Her other hand comes up to cup your right breast and roll your nipple and you mewl and jerk against her. She tugs and it feels directly connected to your cunt because you pulse and it only gets worse when she flexes her thigh underneath you.

“Bed — bedroom, please,” you choke out and her mouth doesn’t leave yours, walking you backwards into the bedroom and not stopping until the backs of your knees hit the bed.

Agatha pushes you down onto it, the duvet beneath you instantly getting wet from your dripping pussy, and she shimmies off her pants and underwear and sinks to her knees in front of you. It’s a sight to behold, her looking up at you from the floor like she wants to devour you, like she would hang the stars and the sun in the sky for you and it still wouldn’t be enough. The power running through you from the heat in her eyes and the ragged heaving of her red chest and the way she tosses her hair over her shoulder is enough to drive you mad.

“You’re so perfect,” she breathes and it only makes you wetter. You buck your hips against the bed, trying to get some stimulation to your now-aching clit, but it’s not even close to enough.

But it’s not even five seconds later when she leans in, inhales the scent of you deeply, and then drags her flattened tongue through your folds, making you keen and arch your back. She is so good with her mouth and she never fails to remind you.

“Fuck, Agatha,” you gasp, and you usually don’t call her by her name during sex, normally opting for mommy, but you need the intimacy right now. You need to feel like this is real.

She groans into you and teases her tongue around your clit, never quite touching it, and you bury your fingers in her hair and gently pull on it. Her eyes flick up to yours as a warning and you loosen your grip. Agatha gives you an almost imperceptible nod and rewards you with one long lick to your clit and your head falls back.

You can no longer hold yourself up when she thrusts her tongue inside you, and you fall back onto the bed, instantly clenching around you. She feels so fucking good, her tongue curling inside your cunt and her nose brushing against your clit, and you angle a leg up on the bed so she can reach deeper inside you. “God, yes,” you sigh, and your orgasm is slowly starting to build up with each roll of your hips and each time your stomach tightens.

But something is missing — you can’t help your thoughts from straying and you just need more.

So you stop her and she looks up at you, the entire bottom half of her face and nose absolutely covered with you. Your clit throbs and you sit up.

“I need — I want — wanna taste you too, Aggie,” you whine and you’ve never used that nickname before, but you think she likes it because she lunges up, capturing your lips with hers again, and knocking you straight back onto the bed.

She nods while still kissing you, whispering, “Fuck, honey, how are you so hot? How are you so perfect for me?”

You clench around nothing and you claw at her shoulder blades frantically, knowing what you need but not how to ask for it.

But Agatha knows — she always knows what you want, except for when it really counts apparently. She gets off of you and scooches on her knees until she’s situated behind your head, facing your body. And then she moves to frame your face with her thighs, her glistening cunt hovering right above your face, and she bends over to pry your legs open before leaning down and sucking on your clit roughly.

You squirm and palm her ass to pull her down to your mouth, and at your first lick through her folds, she moans right into you, the vibrations making you jump. Eating her out while also being eaten out is an experience like no other you’ve ever had. Every single thing you do to her affects her, which in turn, affects you.

The positive feedback loop has both of you sloppily mouthing at each other’s cunts, mimicking motions while also losing all sense of rhythm, and when she digs her fingernails into your thighs and scrapes her teeth against your clit, you let out a high-pitched sound that has her riding your face furiously.

Agatha is getting louder too — you can feel it more than hear it, and you are completely drunk on her smell and her taste and how good she’s making you feel. You dip your tongue into her entrance, stroking against her convulsing walls before swirling around her clit and she pauses what she’s doing for a moment to just breathe heavily against your pussy before diving back in.

All thoughts of anything else are completely out of your foggy mind and you feel like you’re floating, not able to focus on anything else besides Agatha.

If you would’ve known that your dad having an affair would have led to you having the hottest sex with the hottest woman ever, you definitely wouldn’t have been so mad about it.

“Oh, god, baby, you’re so good,” she says into your cunt and it only makes you grind up harder. She matches your intensity, riding your face fast, her clit dragging against your tongue. You groan in agreement and her stomach glides against your nipples while hers do the same and you know that it won’t be long before either of you cum.

She nips at your inner thigh before plunging her tongue inside you and it has your hips bucking. “Fuck — Agatha,” you cry, barely able to keep eating her out because of how stimulated you are. Pleasure is racing through every ridge of your body and your head is spinning.

“That’s right, honey,” she pants, lathering her tongue all over your clit. “Cum for me.”

The tension inside you snaps and you cum, riding out the immense wave as she continues lapping at you and you suck on her clit, triggering her own orgasm. There’s a gush of wetness all over your face and she keeps rolling her hips, chasing the last tendrils.

That was one of the most intense orgasms you’ve ever had, you think, and when Agatha flops down onto the bed next to you, breathing heavily, you think she might agree.

“Fuck,” you say, completely wiped out, and Agatha chuckles weakly in response, reaching a hand out to rest her fingers against yours, not quite interlocking them. The two of you lay like that for what feels like forever, just soaking in the silence and the comfort of being right next to each other.

You’re not sure who moves first — maybe it’s a mutual decision, but eventually you slide up to the pillows and Agatha turns around and moves next to you. Rotating onto your side, you hear the sheets rustle behind you and right on cue, Agatha’s arm snakes around you, holding you close enough to her that you can feel her heartbeat against your back and her breath on your neck.

She kisses the top of your ear and you snuggle back against her. You know that you should put on clothes and clean up your mess, but for right now, you just need to feel her against you.

“We’re going to be okay?” you ask timidly. It seems like it was so long ago that you were spiraling out of control because you thought she was cheating.

Agatha’s arm tightens around yours. “We’re going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay.”

And you think you might actually believe her.

@lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7 @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly @sweetmidnights @n3bula-cats @vyvvycg

#agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x fem!reader #agatha x reader #agatha harkness x you #agatha x you #agatha harkness smut #agatha smut

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threeacttragedy · 19 hours ago

Text

Entry 19: The One Where I Perform Mis-Directed as a Three Act Comedy, Act III

“Firstly, happy birthday. It’s tomorrow, isn’t it?”

Hint: Mis-Directed was released on February 4.

"’I’m making some changes,’ Hattie sipped from the glass. ‘And I’ve updated my skincare routine.’"

"‘Is that actor-code for hooking up with my costar,’ [Hattie’s] sister asked with great interest."

"And Hattie swallowed her drink, wincing as it burned down her throat. Looks like a liquified Barbie Dream House, tastes like one hundred proof vodka."

“’He’s the absolute bane of my existence,’ Hattie said.”

“’And I’ll stake my entire and beloved earring collection.’"

"Dee’s eyes went covetously to today’s selection. A miniature Victorian inkpot and quill.”

“’The entire family’s been reading the tabloids, have they?’"

"‘Reading, discussing, dissecting in a private WhatsApp chat.’”

“They’d touched each other before under the heat of cameras and watching eyes, but this was different. It was them and them alone. It was for them alone.”

“They watched where he entered her, where she enclosed him.”

“’I’ll never be a person who courts tabloid speculation about my private life,’ [Hattie] said at last. ‘But I understand the role that the press plays in this industry and the present attention is likely to be short-lived.’”

“’That might be true,’ he said in a slightly unreadable tone. ‘But it doesn’t necessarily make it easier to deal with in the moment.’ A point she couldn’t argue, especially since they’d remain hot headline property for quite some time yet, if their names were linked. The Victor and Iris affair hadn’t even hit screens yet. They were doing their first joint promo on Monday, at which point the speculation would fire up considerably.”

“’And when did you know it was more than a friendship you felt for Mr. Rafe?’"

"Despite everything, Hattie couldn’t repress the bubble of humor. ‘I don’t recall ever being friends with Mr. Rafe,’ she said, her gaze switching to her other side. Anthony was watching her with utter blandness in his expression and an emotion in his eyes sent all the butterflies in her stomach spiraling. ‘I don’t know if you’ve noticed but he’s infamously insufferable.’”

“But at last, the show’s PR manager stepped in and brought the prying to an end.”

“’I love you.’ They were Iris’s [played by Hattie] words but the slight crack in her voice wasn’t scripted nor was what she saw in Anthony’s eyes. Their fingers tightened on each other as he leaned forward, and his lips touched hers and the ground dropped from under them.”

“’Do I,’ her voice cracked again, ‘have your heart?’"

"‘Do you,’ his body was incredibly tense, ‘love me?’"

"Her eyes burning with sudden tears. She couldn’t speak. She simply nodded as he said with a thick rasp and as little composure as she’d ever seen from him, ‘For a long time now.’”

“Anthony also looked to the nosy reporter before his gaze returned to hers. She read the question in his eyes."

"‘I don’t care,’ she said and realized it was true, with no longer even the slightest twinge of anxiety or reservation. This was the right person. The right time. And she was ready for all of it and it was worth everything and anything. ‘It doesn’t matter anymore. This means so much more.’"

"A last tear slipped free."

"‘This is everything. That’s just background noise.’"

"His arms tightened.”

P.S. “She just wouldn’t touch the fan fic or the fan art of Leicester Square with a ten-foot pole. The idea of people writing sex scenes while picturing her face or sketching not safe for work drawings in her image was unsettling at best.”

#lukola #nicola coughlan #luke newton #my thoughts #my opinion #speculation only #my humor #mis-directed #lucy parker

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seitmai · 21 hours ago

Text

Many thoughts

“Better now that I’m taking you back to our place,” he said. There was that spring in his step again, like he was allowed to be happy since he knew you were really okay after walking home alone.

His happiness very much depends on her, and little too much if you ask me 🥴

When someone like Bucky had the kind of money he did, you imagined he’d drop just about anything to spend time with you and it wouldn’t make a dent in his pocketbook. Even if he lost everything tomorrow, it would be the same. Somehow you’d come first.

For sure

“Steve insisted on talking to you about that double date.” Bucky playfully rolled his eyes and refused to let his friend take the bags from his hands. He really didn’t want anyone else carrying your things or opening doors for you. “He’s stubborn, but you get used to it after a while.” “I’m stubborn?” Steve chuckled. “Pot meet kettle.”

Lol for real

“Well, we can talk about how excited Bucky is that you’re spending the night,” Steve teased. “I think she knows,” Bucky smirked, your cheeks hot. Did the whole gang feed into his delusion of what would happen if you stayed over?

I'm sure they do 🫠

“She’s fine, she’s fine,” Bucky assured you, cupping your cheeks. “She’s okay. I didn’t mean to scare you.” “For now, she is,” Steve muttered under his breath.

Geez 🥴

“We still don’t know the angle.” Bucky’s jaw clenched. “He could be doing it to show that can get to people close to you.” “Like you with Addison and Brady?” you asked. Nick was Brady’s boss now, and it was clear that it wasn’t a coincidence.

Nice call out lol

“How about I find a way to relax and still go out tomorrow?” you suggested. “You’re really determined to go. And here I thought Steve and I were the stubborn ones,” he smirked, guiding you into the penthouse. “Why don’t you take a seat in the living room and I’ll put your stuff in the bedroom?”

She sure is and she should stay like that!

“Because you like being near me,” he said, your eyes rounding. “You slept beside me last night and you want to experience that again. Either that or being near me makes you feel safer than you want to admit.” You scoffed. “No, that’s…” You shook your head. “I mean, no. That’s just-” He gently smiled. “It's okay to admit. It'll be our secret.”

Oop👀

You tried not to choke up. It felt romantic, but you appreciated how thoughtful it was. “I…” You had to clear your throat. “I brought pajamas.” “I know, but I wanted to surprise you,” he smiled. “They’re your size and I think you’ll like them.”

That is actually very thoughtful

Bucky’s eyebrows pinched. “Of course I won’t. This is your relaxing time,” he promised, kissing your forehead again as you breathed easier. “And like I said, I have a few things to do.” You felt a little sheepish at his expression. “I’m sorry. I just…” “Nothing to apologize for. I don't blame you for double checking.” He patted your backside with a gentle hand. “Just enjoy your time.”

I mean is brought this distrust on himself 🤷🏻‍♀️

“Bucky, you didn’t have to-” “I don't have to do anything, but I wanted to. Do you like it?”

That's the spirit 🤭

“This is all thoughtful, but aren't I supposed to be making it up to you?” He frowned a little at your expression. “You being here is more than enough.” His fingers barely grazed your cheek. “Are you okay?”

👀

You avoided his gaze when you opened your eyes. “That’s all you want?” you asked. He hadn’t dragged you to bed once you arrived, but he also didn’t say that he didn’t want something. He ran a thumb over your bottom lip. “Well, I won’t lie to you. I want you, but I'm not pushing you. This is the first time you came to me willingly, and I want to cherish it.” You shivered at his touch. “Yeah, I did come here willingly,” you said. Sort of.

True...

“Stay home with me tomorrow,” he whispered, sitting up with you in his lap still. “We don’t have to go anywhere. We can spend the whole day together.” “No,” you said firmly. You were going out with your friends and that was final. “Send Ray or someone to watch over me. I’ll be back before you know it.”

👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

You tensed and tried to push yourself up, but he grabbed you and situated you over one of his massive thighs. He had a firm hold on you and it made your heart pound. “I don't want you to be scared. I'll take such good care of you.” “I just… I’m not…” If he took you to bed, there’d be no turning back, and you had to maintain some control. “You’re not ready for that,” he stated, his eyes still dark. Shaking your head, it worried you how he’d take it. But he suddenly started moving you over his thigh, hard and slow. “Okay, Kotyonok. I won't put my tongue or fingers in you just yet, but I still want to make you feel good.”

I totally get that she wants to have at least a little bit control..

“That’s my good girl,” he praised, rocking you over his thigh again and sitting up, desperately pressing his lips to your neck. “You'll never have to beg for anything you want. Just ask or tell me and it's yours.”

😮‍💨😮‍💨😮‍💨

And breathing hard, you surprised both of you by leaning in and kissing him. He let out a deep moan, kissing you back with everything he had as he held you closer. You were still shaking from your orgasm, and you could blame that for the reason why you kissed him. And he behaved, not letting his hands wander as his tongue moved with yours.

Ohh 👀

His smile confused you. “But… you didn’t…” you trailed off. He was hard in his pants, and you hadn’t gotten him off. You selfishly got yourself off on his thigh with his encouragement. “That doesn't matter,” he assured you, kissing the tip of your nose. “You trusted me enough to make you feel good.”

Ngl that's kinda hot 🤭

He tucked your head under his chin and wrapped one of the blankets around you. “I know you're still a bit scared and you don’t want to trust me, and that’s okay. It’s scary to let someone like me in after everything.”

That's actually really sweet 🥹

He rubbed your back and you noticed how relaxed he was. He was content to just hold you. Like an actual couple. Exactly what he wanted. And if he noticed a tear streaming down your cheek when you eventually fell asleep in his arms, he thoughtfully kept that to himself.

Uff what an ending 🥴

Hold You Tight: Part 17

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 16 | Series Masterlist | Part 18

Chapter Word Count: Over 5.9k

Chapter Summary: You take a step further in your relationship with Bucky.

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, dubcon elements, dirty talk, thigh riding, tension, kissing, reference to stalking, inner turmoil, manipulation, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight! Thank you for sticking with me! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You tried to occupy yourself as you waited for Bucky to pick you up. You made sure you had your outfit for tomorrow and sent Addison a text to confirm when and where you were meeting. God, what if Bucky insisted on dropping you off? He likely would. There was no way he’d let you head over on your own, unless Ray or someone dropped you off.

“What am I doing?” you muttered.

Staring at yourself in the mirror, you frowned. You had changed out of your work clothes and into something more comfortable. He would think you looked sexy no matter what you wore, even if you didn’t try. What was he going to expect or demand from you? There was no way you’d go through the entire evening in his home without him touching you or something.

You weren’t sure if the anticipation was worse or knowing he’d probably make your body enjoy whatever he’d do to you, and use that as a weapon against you.

The knock on your door made you jump. Had two hours passed already? You checked the peephole and saw Bucky on the other side, shifting from one foot to the other. At least he didn’t break his way inside like he could’ve easily done.

“Hi.” You slowly opened the door to let him in. “I-”

Bucky had you against the wall before you could finish, his lips insistently pressing against yours. The kiss only lasted seconds, but it felt like hours when he pulled away. “Don’t walk home alone again,” he whispered with a brief flash of fear in his eyes.

You nodded after a moment. The conversation from earlier was still on his mind, clearly. “I won’t.”

“You look beautiful by the way.” Taking a breath, he ran both hands through his hair and straightened up. He looked like his normal self again, and you knew it. No matter what he’d find you attractive. “Is this everything?” he asked, picking up the overnight bag and garment bag that you had left by the door.

“Yeah, it should be,” you said, making sure you had your phone and purse, too.

“Was the rest of your day okay?” he asked, watching carefully as you locked the door.

“It was fine,” you replied. You were so busy thinking about Bucky that you hadn’t thought much about Clark. “Was yours?”

“You don’t have to go to the club tonight?” you asked.

“Only if there’s an emergency. There’s no special event tonight, no reason to make an appearance, and my staff knows how to take care of the place,” he assured you. “Time with you is much more important than that.”

Once you were outside, you were surprised to find Steve standing by Bucky’s car instead of Ray. “Hi,” the blonde smiled with a row of perfect teeth.

“Hi,” you replied, stepping a bit closer to Bucky. Steve was his best friend, but you still didn’t know him well. What you did know was that he had his own woman he was stalking.

“I’m stubborn?” Steve chuckled. “Pot meet kettle.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Bucky smiled, helping you into the car.

The interaction between the two of them was so natural and easy. You imagined that in another life they were decent men who fought for others instead of trapping them. “So, what exactly did you want to talk about?” you asked once you took off.

“Well, we can talk about how excited Bucky is that you’re spending the night,” Steve teased.

“I think she knows,” Bucky smirked, your cheeks hot. Did the whole gang feed into his delusion of what would happen if you stayed over?

“Did you want to talk about the double date?” you asked, hoping the topic switch would help.

“Well, my girl likes art and Bucky mentioned how you sometimes like to relax with a glass of wine,” Steve began, smiling at you in the mirror. “So, I was thinking, we could do one of those wine and painting classes. Just the four of us.”

“But if you didn’t want to do a painting, they do something similar with pottery where everyone can pick their own piece to paint,” Bucky said, slipping an arm over your shoulders.

“Dinner before the painting, too. It would be really nice for you two to talk,” Steve continued, tapping a finger on the steering wheel. “She’s a sweet girl with a big heart, but she doesn’t have many friends nearby like you do.”

“I mean, I’m fine with painting a canvas or pottery. I think we should let her choose since art is one of her passions.” Your heart went out to the girl. Was that why Steve set his sights on her? Did he feel like he was rescuing her in some sense? “And does she have a preference on wine? White or red? Sweet or dry? Maybe I can pick a bottle for her while I’m at the vineyard tomorrow.”

Steve glanced at you again in the mirror, impressed. “That’s very considerate of you,” he said, sharing a quick look with Bucky, too. “And she likes sparkling sweet wine.”

“I have a very considerate girl,” Bucky boasted, kissing your temple. “You really are thoughtful.”

“I try to be,” you whispered, not wanting to make a big deal out of it. “I’m sure Bucky will give me the details once it’s set up,” you said, not finding it in you to argue since you were outnumbered.

“He will,” Steve smiled, clearing his throat. “And now that we have that out of the way…”

“Really, punk?” Bucky asked, tightening his hand on our shoulder.

You sat up a little. All the warmth had left his voice, and he tensed up beside you. “What’s going on?”

“Tell her, Buck,” Steve urged.

You held your breath. Was this about earlier in the day when Ray spoke with Bucky? “Yes, please, tell me.”

Bucky’s jaw clenched. “Mrs. Crandle wasn’t at work today, was she?” he asked as if he already knew the answer.

“No, she…” Your eyes widened. Kate said she called out for some business reason. “Oh, my god. Is she okay?”

“She’s fine, she’s fine,” Bucky assured you, cupping your cheeks. “She’s okay. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“For now, she is,” Steve muttered under his breath.

“Just shut up and drive,” Bucky ordered when you gasped. “The reason she was suddenly out of work today was because of Zemo.”

Your heart sank. What the hell would Zemo want with Mrs. Crandle? “What do you mean?”

“From what we’ve gathered, he met up with her to tell her that she won an all expenses paid trip to a flower expo. She was shocked since she didn’t remember even entering the contest, but he told her someone anonymously registered her,” he explained. “He asked questions about some of her employees in case she wanted to bring anyone from her shop along and your name came up.”

“But why?” you asked. Why would Zemo make a contest just to talk to your boss?

“We still don’t know the angle.” Bucky’s jaw clenched. “He could be doing it to show that can get to people close to you.”

“Like you with Addison and Brady?” you asked. Nick was Brady’s boss now, and it was clear that it wasn’t a coincidence.

“Bucky doesn’t have his hand in the shop out of respect for you, and Zemo knows that,” Steve chimed in before Bucky could argue. “So it’s possible that he may be trying to butter Mrs. Crandle up before he makes an offer, whether it’s to offer some kind of protection or to buy out her shop completely.”

The thought of Zemo owning the shop where you worked or having his hand in it made your stomach turn. “She loves her shop, and she’s honest when it comes to business. She wouldn’t want someone stepping in or buying it,” you said, your breathing a bit heavier. “Is she in danger? Is something going to happen to her because of me?”

If something happened to Mrs. Crandle, you’d never forgive yourself.

“It isn’t because of you, Kotyonok. It’s his actions,” Bucky answered. Just like Bucky’s actions put you in the line of fire. “I hesitated telling you because we still need answers, but she’s safe. We also have someone keeping an eye on her, just to exercise caution.”

You exhaled. If Zemo was trying to scare you, it was working. “Please, don’t keep me in the dark,” you said. Even if it scared you, you had to know. “And Mrs. Crandle is one of the most harmless people in the city and the shop is all she has. If he-”

“We won’t let anything happen to her,” Bucky promised. It was a lot to promise. “And I’m sorry I didn’t say something this morning. I just wanted you to have a normal day.”

You understood part of Bucky’s reasoning. Telling you even when she wasn't in immediate danger would've thrown your whole day off. But what was a normal day now? “We deal with ups and downs every day. So just tell me next time something’s going on, especially if it involves someone important to me.” Ignorance isn't bliss in the world Bucky lived in.

He regarded you with a soft smile. “I will.”

You stayed quiet for the remainder of the ride while Bucky and Steve discussed dinner options for the double date night. It would’ve been endearing with how excited they were, had it not been for the fact that you and Steve’s girl didn’t exactly have a choice. What was going to happen at Thor’s party?

And what about your loved ones? Were they safe? You thought being by Bucky’s side would keep them safe from his wrath, but what if Zemo went after them? You had to trust that Bucky and his men wouldn't allow that to happen.

“You two have fun tonight,” Steve winked. “Try not to get too handsy, jerk.”

“What?” you asked, your throat dry once you realized you were at Bucky’s place. God, you were really there. There was no backing out.

“Just get in your car and go, punk,” Bucky chuckled, helping you out and grabbing your things. “He really is excited for you and his girl to become friends.”

“I’ll bet,” you said, giving Steve a small wave for his benefit.

You counted the number of steps from the car to the elevator. This was similar to when he brought you here the first time because you didn’t know what to expect. You weren’t sure if it was better or worse though knowing what you knew now.

“Where’s Ray?” you asked.

“He’s busy,” Bucky answered cryptically, sweeping his gaze over you. “You seem nervous. If you’d rather skip your day out tomorrow, I can help you find a few ways to relax.”

“How about I find a way to relax and still go out tomorrow?” you suggested.

“You’re really determined to go. And here I thought Steve and I were the stubborn ones,” he smirked, guiding you into the penthouse. “Why don’t you take a seat in the living room and I’ll put your stuff in the bedroom?”

“Okay,” you breathed, hoping he didn’t notice you trembling as you walked through the place. It felt warmer than the last time you were there, more like the temperature that you kept at your place. And as dangerous as Bucky was, you somehow felt safe being there. Someone like Zemo wasn’t going to get in there. Clark wouldn’t either.

Rubbing your arms, you took a seat on the sofa. It was a beautiful room, but nothing like your living room. It wasn't just the difference in size, but you noticed once again that there were no nicknacks or homey touches. Maybe you could add a pop or color or even some flowers to… Oh, God. You were really thinking of how you’d decorate the place.

“You still look nervous,” Bucky said once he joined you, giving you absolutely no space as he took a seat. “You don’t have to be.”

“I’m not nervous,” you lied, biting your lip. “Okay, I am a little.”

He hummed. “Were you expecting me to drag you to bed?”

You nodded slowly. He behaved himself in the car with Steve there, but now the two of you were alone and you had no idea where Ray was. There was nothing to stop him from taking what he thought belonged to him.

“You thought sex would make it up to me because you walked home alone?”

“No,” you said immediately. You shouldn’t have to give him sex to say you’re sorry, especially when he had a much longer list of things he needed to apologize for. “I just thought this was a natural step in a relationship, you know? Spending the night together.”

A natural step would’ve been him staying at your place, too, but he was certain you would live at his place. And having him in your space, it didn’t feel the same. It was something you wanted to keep sacred.

“It is a natural step, but I don’t think you offered to stay here to make it up to me.”

His statement surprised you. That was part of the reason. If you made it up to him, he wouldn’t object to you going out with your friends. You weren’t going to bring up Clark or that the thought of being alone at your place made you nervous. “Then why else do you think I’m here?” you asked.

You scoffed. “No, that’s…” You shook your head. “I mean, no. That’s just-”

He gently smiled. “It's okay to admit. It'll be our secret.”

You shook your head again. Admitting that being in his arms wasn’t terrible and that his place did feel safer than yours at the moment would give him another win. “I'm not admitting anything.”

The smile on his face widened. “Is it because I'm right and you don't want me to be right?”

“Maybe this was a bad idea,” you said, standing and crossing your arms. “I should just go.”

“No, no, no. I’ll stop teasing. Please stay,” he nearly begged, getting to his feet, too. “How about I run you a bath and you can relax?”

“...A bath?” you asked. It wasn’t fair. He knew how much you loved taking baths.

He nodded. “A warm bath and a glass of wine, too.”

You uncrossed your arms, avoiding his hopeful gaze. It was a bit of a rough day, on top of a rough week. You deserved to relax. “Okay, that actually sounds really nice.”

He smiled and offered his hand. “I have bath bombs or salts if you want those, too. Anything to help you relax.”

“You have bath bombs?” you asked, your curiosity peaked. “What kind?”

“I have honeysuckle, lavender, vanilla,” he smiled softly. Each scent sounded like something that would help make the stress leave your body. “Let me show you.”

You let him lead the way you were pretty sure most of your apartment could fit inside the luxurious bathroom. The inviting tub almost made you burst into happy tears. It was nothing like your builder's grade tub. This was an honest to goodness clawfoot tub of your dreams.

“You like it?” Bucky smiled.

Blinking, you remembered Bucky saying how he wanted to fuck you in his tub. Would it be tonight? “I love it,” you admitted.

His smile stretched from ear to ear. “I’ll grab a tray and I can bring you a book if you want. Or you can just relax and enjoy your wine.”

“Well.” You thought it over. “I wouldn’t mind a book.”

Bucky nodded and brought the bath bombs out for you to choose from before he ushered you into the bedroom. “Why don't you stay here and pick one out while I'll get everything else you need?”

“Okay,” you said, holding your breath as you stared at the king sized bed. You avoided looking at it when he led you into the bathroom, but now you couldn’t help yourself. That was the bed he expected you to sleep with him in… the bed he’d fuck you and make love to you in. The satin sheets were a dark promise that he’d get everything he wanted and more.

Shaking your head, you carefully picked up each bath bomb and gave them a sniff. Each one smelled better than the last, and your eyes nearly rolled back at the one you selected. You wondered if he had these before you met or if he bought them specifically for you to have available.

Bucky came back after a minute and took your hand, guiding you back into the bathroom. “I’ve got everything all set.” The tub was steaming, candles were lit, and there was a generous glass of wine waiting on the tray with a book. “There's a robe on the back of the door, and I'll make sure fresh pajamas are ready for when you get out.”

You tried not to choke up. It felt romantic, but you appreciated how thoughtful it was. “I…” You had to clear your throat. “I brought pajamas.”

“I know, but I wanted to surprise you,” he smiled. “They’re your size and I think you’ll like them.”

“Thanks.” What other clothes did he have waiting for you? “What will you do while I'm in the tub?”

“I have a couple of calls to make.” He kissed your forehead. “And there's something else I want to set up for you.”

You shook your head. “I think this is more than enough,” you said honestly. He didn’t have to go to the trouble of setting this up. “But…” You fidgeted a little. “You promise you won’t just… barge in, right?”

This was still his home. He could easily make an excuse to go into his bathroom for whatever reason. And being naked in the bathtub, you’d be more vulnerable than normal.

Bucky’s eyebrows pinched. “Of course I won’t. This is your relaxing time,” he promised, kissing your forehead again as you breathed easier. “And like I said, I have a few things to do.”

You felt a little sheepish at his expression. “I’m sorry. I just…”

“Nothing to apologize for. I don't blame you for double checking.” He patted your backside with a gentle hand. “Just enjoy your time.”

With a small smile, he shut the door behind him. You waited a full minute after hearing his footsteps fade before you undressed and added the bath bomb to the tub. The scent brought a smile to your face before you tested the water temperature with your hand. It felt perfect, evident by your sigh once you got in.

You took your time sipping your wine as you began to read. Was this really going to be your bathroom now? Would you relax here after a rough shift or just because you felt like it? How many nights would Bucky insist on joining you?

But the man was, surprisingly, true to his word. He hadn’t disturbed you once. Even after you finished your glass and added more warm water to the tub, he didn’t knock or barge in. Even when you grudgingly got out of the tub and dried off before you pulled the plush robe on, he wasn’t sitting there waiting. Was he actually respecting your boundaries?

Peeking out into the bedroom, Bucky had laid out a pair of soft pajamas like he promised and was still nowhere to be seen. You were still quick to change so he couldn’t sneak a look at you. But where was he?

You thought of calling out when you went to search for him since the lights were dimmed all over the penthouse. Your fingers touched one of the walls. Would he ever hang a picture of his mom up or was it too painful?

Tiptoeing over to the balcony when you saw the door open, you spotted Bucky reading a book, too, and sipping whiskey from a tumbler. He looked completely at ease, lost in his own lonely world, and you weren’t sure if you should disturb him. Turning around, you wondered where you should go. Maybe you could curl up on the couch or something before he could-

“All finished in the bath?”

You froze and turned back toward him, his hair gently blowing in the breeze. “Yeah, sorry. I didn't know what to do when I was done, so I was going to wander around.”

He downed the rest of his glass and smiled. “You're welcome to wander, except into the den which is being redone.” He offered his hand again when he stood. “Did you enjoy your bath?”

“I did. That bath bomb was incredible,” you said. There was no reason to lie. “So was the wine.”

You gulped a little. Oh, god. You didn’t see him pour the glass. Why did you accept that from him? He could’ve put something in it. No, he wouldn’t. He wanted you to want him without that sort of influence.

“I'll get you more. The bath bomb and the wine.” he smiled, leading you back to the living room where he had pillows and blankets set up.

“Bucky, you didn’t have to-”

“I don't have to do anything, but I wanted to. Do you like it?”

You looked at the lush blankets and fluffy pillows. Like the bathroom, it looked like a dream. Looking back at him, you smiled softly at his once again hopeful expression. He carried himself with such confidence and didn't seem to care if he impressed others except for you. “I do. Thank you.”

He smiled, too, his whole face bright. “I thought it would be another good way to relax.”

The memory of Clark walking you home popped in your mind for some reason before you pushed it away. “This is all thoughtful, but aren't I supposed to be making it up to you?”

He frowned a little at your expression. “You being here is more than enough.” His fingers barely grazed your cheek. “Are you okay?”

You blinked and nodded. “I’m fine.”

Bucky considered you and you couldn’t help but fidget again when he pinned you with his gaze. “Is something wrong?” he asked.

You bit the inside of your cheek and closed your eyes. “I just don't understand why you’re doing all of this.”

He could’ve been manipulating you again, but it actually seemed like he was trying to be a doting boyfriend without expecting anything in return. Your guard was down enough for him to worm his way in, and you all too easily accepted the kind gestures. Why were you making it easy for him?

“You mean setting up the blankets and pillows? I thought we could lay together and watch a movie. Or talk.” His fingers touched your cheek again. “Whatever you want.”

You avoided his gaze when you opened your eyes. “That’s all you want?” you asked. He hadn’t dragged you to bed once you arrived, but he also didn’t say that he didn’t want something.

He ran a thumb over your bottom lip. “Well, I won’t lie to you. I want you, but I'm not pushing you. This is the first time you came to me willingly, and I want to cherish it.”

You shivered at his touch. “Yeah, I did come here willingly,” you said. Sort of.

“And how do you feel being here compared to the first time?”

“Better,” you admitted. You weren’t completely terrified this time, and you also felt like you had some control over. Maybe not much, but some.

“Good. Now, shall we?”

You nodded and allowed Bucky to help you settle into the comfort of the pillows. He pulled you close, but it wasn’t as suffocating as it had been before. This felt more gentle. More… right.

It should’ve felt wrong.

The room was so quiet and all you could hear for a minute was the gentle sound of his breathing and his heart beating. “What's your favorite color?” you asked. “I don't think you've told me.”

You weren’t sure if you had taken the time to ask because, well, it hadn’t been a real relationship in your eyes. But you needed to know him. Call it acceptance or ammunition. Maybe both.

“Blue,” he answered, his hand absentmindedly moving along your side.

“And your birthday?”

“March 10th.”

“Wait, you're a Pisces?” you smiled a little. “That explains so much.”

He smiled down at you and chuckled. “Oh, does it now?”

You laughed lightly. “Well, yeah. I mean, you’re just… you know…” He raised an eyebrow and waited for you to finish. “Emotional.”

“I can't argue with that,” he smiled, leaning in a bit. “Does it explain anything else?”

“Well, you're…” You were a little distracted as he kept rubbing your side. “Intense. Passionate. You want to be close to the person you fall for.”

He fit that to a tee.

His darkened eyes made you lose your breath. “I can’t argue with that either,” he whispered, pulling you close without hesitation and fusing your mouths together.

Bucky held you tight and rolled you over so you were on top of him, his hands skimming your thighs as he made you straddle him. A small sound escaped when he brushed against you, your heart pounding in your ears. “Bucky-”

“Stay home with me tomorrow,” he whispered, sitting up with you in his lap still. “We don’t have to go anywhere. We can spend the whole day together.”

“No,” you said firmly. You were going out with your friends and that was final. “Send Ray or someone to watch over me. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Please?” he asked, thrusting his hips up. “I’ll make it worth your while if you skip.”

Natasha’s words crossed your mind, reminding you that you had power. But a sinking feeling washed over you because that power had to come from your body, right? You shouldn’t be expected to give him sex, but you could give him something to hold him over. Pushing the dread away, you could hate yourself later for it. “You can spend time with me when I get back,” you offered, grinding your hips against his. “I’ll be all yours.”

The sickening feeling you expected when he moaned didn’t come. “You promise?” he murmured.

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, grinding your hips again. “You can even drop me off at Addison’s, and I’ll let you know when I get back to my place. I promise.”

“Okay, Kotyonok,” he groaned, his hands grabbing your waist. Your triumph didn’t last long. “Keep doing that and I’ll pay for all the bottles of wine you want, too.”

“You don’t have to-”

“Let me touch you. Please, just let me make you feel good,” he half begged, half demanding between kissing you again. He truly hungered for you. “I'll make you feel amazing if you just let me touch you.”

You took a deep, shaky breath. How far would he take it if he touched you? No, you had to stay in control. “You are touching me.”

“Let me take you to bed. I'll eat your pussy so good you'll cry.”

“I just… I’m not…” If he took you to bed, there’d be no turning back, and you had to maintain some control.

“You’re not ready for that,” he stated, his eyes still dark. Shaking your head, it worried you how he’d take it. But he suddenly started moving you over his thigh, hard and slow. “Okay, Kotyonok. I won't put my tongue or fingers in you just yet, but I still want to make you feel good.”

You made a small sound, trying to get your body to relax. You had never ridden anyone’s thigh before and you hadn’t pictured it like this. But the blissful look on his face, he looked like he was in heaven.

“You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you? Especially like this,” he praised.

“I…” you whimpered. “I’m not-”

“Yes, you are,” he growled, tightening his grip. “And you deserve to feel good. My girl deserves whatever she wants.”

Your hands flew to his shoulders when he flexed his thigh, sending an unexpected shock through your entire body. “Oh, my God,” you whispered before you could stop yourself.

“That felt good, right?” he asked, watching you with lidded eyes. “You want me to keep going? Make you come all over my pants?”

You whimpered when he held you still, unsure it was his dirty talk or the slight edging that had you trembling. “Bucky…”

“Tell me, Kotyonok,” he ordered, licking his lips and relaxing back into the blankets and pillows. “Tell me you want me to keep going and I will.”

You looked deep into his eyes. There was so much fire in them and it was burning for you. Your breath caught as he flexed his thigh again and you found yourself nodding. “Please, Bucky. Keep going.”

He shook his head. “That’s not what I said,” he whispered, sliding his tongue along your lips. “Tell me.”

You swallowed hard, your core throbbing. “I want you to keep going,” you breathed.

Your eyes burned with unshed tears as your nails dug into his shoulders, feeling his thigh getting wetter beneath you. “Please…” you whispered, unsure of what exactly you were asking for. Mercy? To be put out of your misery? You could ask for anything except for freedom.

“Still begging when you don't have to.” He chuckled affectionately. “You’re so sweet.”

The pleasure building inside you was bittersweet. Sexual acts were, in your eyes, something to bring you closer together. What would he want next? What would you want next?

“Fucking yourself on my thigh. Wait ‘til you fuck yourself on my cock,” he gruffly spoke, your walls clenching around nothing when he lightly nipped over your pulse. “Just let go if you want. Make a mess for me.”

You were breathless from how close you were. “Do… that again,” you said, unable to let yourself feel embarrassed in the moment.

Bucky nipped your neck again and smiled when you moaned. “Fuck, that’s my beautiful girl. Doing so good for me, telling me what you want,” he said gruffly, dragging you faster along his thigh. “Now I want you to come for me.”

Your mouth fell open when he rocked you faster and bit down once more, hard enough that something inside you snapped. It didn’t just snap, you shattered. You saw stars. You couldn't stop it.

“There you go. Coming just for me,” he smiled, burying his face in your neck. “Fuck, you got my thigh all wet. Just ride it out. Good girl.”

Your face burned and you wanted to hide once you slowed down, but he wouldn’t let you when he lifted his head. He looked so happy, like a cat who got the cream. Your release dripped from your pussy and soaked your pajamas and his pants. You let him get you off.

And breathing hard, you surprised both of you by leaning in and kissing him.

He let out a deep moan, kissing you back with everything he had as he held you closer. You were still shaking from your orgasm, and you could blame that for the reason why you kissed him. And he behaved, not letting his hands wander as his tongue moved with yours.

He kept his mouth close to yours when you pulled back. The orgasm surprisingly helped you relax, but it worried you, too. Had you pushed too far with what you just did? Would he want more? You couldn’t let him in, and you weren’t ready to let yourself fall for him after everything. Not yet.

“Um, thanks,” you said, unsure of what to say to break the tension.

“Thank you,” he smiled.

His smile confused you. “But… you didn’t…” you trailed off. He was hard in his pants, and you hadn’t gotten him off. You selfishly got yourself off on his thigh with his encouragement.

“That doesn't matter,” he assured you, kissing the tip of your nose. “You trusted me enough to make you feel good.”

Your jaw dropped slightly. “But that’s… No. I…” You just wanted a bit of time with your friends, it wasn’t about trust. Was it? How could you trust this man?

You shut your eyes to hold back tears. He had scared you from the moment you met, but you wouldn’t say you were completely scared of him right now. Not really. You didn’t know how you felt.

That was what scared you.

“Will someone keep an eye on my place while I’m out tomorrow?” you asked curiously, hoping the question didn't sound weird. You just didn't want Clark snooping around, and you didn't want Bucky worked up if you mentioned him.

“I have safety measures in place,” he replied. “Do you feel safe here?” he asked above a whisper.

“Yes,” you replied. You felt safe and in danger all at once. It was a strange feeling.

“Good,” he whispered. “Hey. Maybe you can spend the night tomorrow, too? We’ll do a movie night.”

“Maybe,” you whispered, your heart finally starting to slow to a steady rate. “And pizza.”

“Pizza and a movie? It’s a date,” he smiled. “We can talk about redecorating the place, too. Make it a real home for us.”

“A real home,” you whispered, knowing full well you were home for Bucky.

He rubbed your back and you noticed how relaxed he was. He was content to just hold you. Like an actual couple. Exactly what he wanted.

And if he noticed a tear streaming down your cheek when you eventually fell asleep in his arms, he thoughtfully kept that to himself.

So, that happened. It could've been... worse? He's wearing his girl down, isn't he? How are things going to be in the morning? Will he leave you be when you're with your friends? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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sanjisleggy · 3 days ago

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trafalgar law with a winged!reader partner

summary: you have beautiful feathered wings on your back and your beloved, Trafalgar Law, is enamoured by them

a/n: based on a super cute request by an anon after they read this Shanks fic i wrote about him with a winged!reader :D also i didn’t know what to title this since there’s not really a storyline so imma just call it as it is

contents: fluff!!, soft!Law, very mild mention of seggsy times

wc. ~700

wanna be on my taglist?

Law absolutely adores your wings. it’s actually the feature that intrigued him enough to invite you to join his crew–after he’d done his due diligence as a captain, of course, and deemed your character and skill more than satisfactory. you’re a friendly and respectful enough person who’s extremely capable at airborne combat so it was easy enough to mask his invitation as one purely based on your abilities and not because he just really wanted to study your wings

this fact is one of the things revealed to you long after you enter a romantic relationship with him and you still tease him about it to this day. you’d coo and pinch his cheeks while saying how cute it is he had a crush on you from the very start. the fact that he just takes it and doesn’t rebut is more than enough proof that you hit the nail on the head. if anyone else tries to tease him about it, though, he’ll threaten to shambles them into the ocean

needless to say, you’ve been together long enough that Law has become very familiar with your wings. he’s taken countless photos and drawn numerous diagrams of your bone and muscle structure from all angles. he even has a sketchbook or two just filled with doodles and finer sketches of you and your wings in various poses. he never thought himself to be the artistic type, not until he found someone worth making art of

Law can tell how you feel from the way your wings behave. from every twitch to any spasm, he’s documented everything he’s observed over the years and committed the details to memory. it was never even intentional, he just realised one day that he could read you like a book without even seeing your face

when you found out about it, you began poking fun at him about that, too. your captain would be flustered at having been caught–a little annoyed, even–but then he’ll see the way your wings shiver and sway as you giggle and tease him and any negative feelings wash away. he’ll remind himself that you’ve been so gracious as to let him do whatever he wants with your wings, the least he can do as your boyfriend is let you have your fun

Law keeps track of your moulting weeks better than you do. if anything, you don’t even have to keep track of it yourself because you know it’s coming when he starts behaving more restlessly, and you catch him staring at your wings a lot more than usual

you know he really enjoys helping you moult but he never initiates it. you think it’s out of shyness and you’re partially correct but his greater concern is accidentally crossing a boundary. you’re the only person he knows with wings, after all, and no amount of research feels enough to avoid hurting you or making you uncomfortable in any way. you often reassure him that you love it when he helps you moult and that you trust him the most to touch your wings but still, he prefers to only assist you when you explicitly ask for his help

every time you tell him you need his help removing your feathers, he smiles a certain way and begins to blush, looking more flustered than when you have actual sex. you’ll legitimately never understand why but it’s still very cute to see

Law always takes his time when he helps out because he not only wants to make sure you don’t feel any discomfort at all but also because he just really likes hearing your little happy noises when he does a good job at relieving the itchiness that comes with moulting

he also loves running his fingers through your soft feathers and tracing the flow of the muscles that connect your wings to your back. he finds the sensation extremely calming and stress-relieving. he even does it in his sleep, completely unaware of it when he wakes up

every moulting session with Law usually ends with him rubbing and soothing your sensitive skin and combing your feathers until they’re nice and neat. afterwards he’ll give you some kisses as thanks before running off to his study to make more notes about your wings

gen taglist: @irethepotato @i-reblog-fics-i-like @grierpilots @appalost @hyper-fic-ation @dressycobra7 @38lyra38 @chaseyui @paraparakiss @krooschl @teewon @olliesoxenfree @misstraffy @riftmage27 @aletch @somatchajade @kitsunechan707 @thesmolestsage @lunaizhere @saint-atlas @goldenpanda16 @jordan03400 @rebeccawinters @glorywielder101 @slytherinambitious @the0twst0shrimp0mc

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece x yn #op #op x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar d water law #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law #fanfic #imagine #fluff

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k1mbe3rly · 3 days ago

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first of all, your writing is really niceeee💗💗

can i get nam gyu and the reader have been together for a long time, but when they were in the games, the reader got mad at him in the sink when it was just the two of them because of the pills nam gyu took from thanos, and nam gyu cried while she was holding him, burying his head in her neck(? fluff or smthing). i really need this. namgyu is really a masterpiece.

I love you, Nam gyu you cut it out.

You and nam gyu have been dating for awhile now, he’s a good boyfriend and all but the only problem you had with him was that he took drugs, he didn’t take a lot knowing you hated it so he calmed down with it

Both of you got into debt and decided to join the games after a salesman gave yall both a card, so here yall both were, in greenish tracksuits and a number on yalls chest

Nam gyu stayed with you thru out the games but you noticed his friend acting weird, the purple guy was very energetic and almost happy to be here which weirded you out, you watch as they bonded and by the 3rd game you noticed he was acting a bit weird as well

From dancing with him and going in circles to pushing and punching people to get yall into a room

It was until after you you 3 ran into a room panting you leaned against the wall eyeing Nam gyu noticing a bit of redish/yellowish in his eyes, you went up to him grabbing his cheeks making him look at you as he stared into you with confusion, “What is it babe?” he asked you

“Your eyes Nam gyu, why are the corner of your eyes redish?” you asked him with a slight of concern, he chuckled out, “It’s nothing..probably just because i haven’t gotten any proper sleep” he said

You hummed letting go of his face not believing him at all, Nam gyu took a glance at Thanos as Thanos gave him a look raising his eyebrows as Nam gyu laughed out, and that when it hit you, they were both on pills.

After the game you sticked with Nam gyu watching his every move, you got a bit distracted as you ate your food and once you finally looked at nam gyu you noticed him putting a colorful pill inside him mouth, he looks at you giving you a small awkward smile

You scoffed and just continued eating.

The guards let yall both go to the bathroom during lights out as you walked in last, he already felt the small tension between yall as he looked at you with a small look guilt, “What’s wrong?” he asked

You took a minute to answer “Are you taking pills with that guy?” you said, he stared at you fiddling with his sleeves which were always over his hands

“Why are you asking?” he simply said, you stared at him for a moment and frowned a bit giving him a disappointed look “I thought you stopped. Why are you taking them?!” you said raising your voice a bit

“It’s nothing that serious y/n.. they don’t do anything to me” he exclaims, “I don’t care? drugs are drugs nam gyu! why are you letting that guy basically control you!” you yelled out to him

He quickly tensed up as he stood up straight “He’s not controlling me. And just because i took like 2 pills from him doesn’t mean shit, so why are you acting like this!?” he yells back a bit, “Why am i acting like this? You told me you would stop! i trusted you!! I should’ve known you wouldn’t stop. You’re a fucking drug addict Nam gyu!” you yelled out pushing him

He stumbles back with a small glare at you “I’m not a fucking drug addict!!, those pills chill my nerves and that’s why we’re being able to get out of the games alive!” he yelled back, “I rather die than have you take drugs again!? Do you know how terrible you were when you were taking those?! why are you taking them again, do you wanna fall back into that shit hole!?” you told him harshly

He stared at you not answering at all, suddenly he clinged onto you, his arms wrapping around you hugging you, he was shaking a bit, as he nuzzled his head your head a bit, that’s when you felt something wet on your neck, he was crying

You sighed hugged him back, holding him tightly, “I’m sorry y/n..i really am. I just wanna get us both out of here alive, I wanna be able to be with you after this so we can finally be happy again.” He said as your expression softens

“I know me too. But you don’t need those to helps us, it’s just hurting you” You spoke to him softly, “I know..i just thought if I were to take them i would finally feel normal instead of paranoid of losing you. I love you so much i can’t fucking lose you.” he cried into your neck imagining those guards shooting you because he couldn’t save you in time or you failing in a game

“You’re not gonna lose me..we’re gonna get out of here alive i promise, if you just stop letting that guy tell you to pick ‘O’ we would’ve been home. There’s already enough money for the both us. I just wanna go home” you told him

He continue crying, “I promise i’ll get us both out of here. We’re gonna go home i promise. I love you..” he said to you as he looked at you, you smiled softly at him “I love you too.”

He smiled back at you as you wiped his tears, he leaned down kissing you softly and gentle, you kissed him back with that same gentleness as well.

He did keep his word, He got yall both out of there alive and let’s just say yall had a happy ending together

#squid game #squid game season 2 #squid game x reader #squid game s2 #squid game fic #squid game fanfic #squid game fluff #squid game angst #angst with a happy ending #player 124 angst #player 124 x reader #player 124 #nam gyu squid game #nam gyu x reader #nam gyu #nam gyu angst #squid game imagine

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7ndipity · 3 days ago

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Their S/o Has Social Anxiety

Ot7 x Reader

Summary: How the members would handle their partner having really bad social anxiety(sometimes to the point where they can’t leave their house)

Warnings: mentions of anxiety and agoraphobia, not proofread

A/N: Thank you to the lovely anon who requested this! As someone who also suffers from anxiety issues, I hope this will bring you some comfort and make you smile

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

Jin: Jin also has a bit of social anxiety, so I think he’d really understand your struggle and try to help make you as comfortable with him as possible. He’d happily come to your house to hang out for date nights instead of you coming to him or the two of you going out somewhere, without ever making it feel awkward or like an inconvenience. He would gladly help try and help you broaden your comfort zones if you wanted, but he’d never pressure you to do anything you aren't fully ready to do.

Yoongi: He’s mentioned in the past about having anxiety issues as well, so he’d definitely understand your struggles to a certain degree. He would do his best to comfort and reassure you to keep you from feeling pressured or overwhelmed if/when you go out together. He would be really good at reading your cues and knowing when you need a break to breathe and recenter yourself, and would sit patiently beside you through any attacks or low points that you might go through. All he cares about is you feeling safe and supported.

Hobi: As I’ve said before, this man is comfort incarnate. He’s so kind and understanding about your anxieties and fears and is more than happy to keep date nights just between the two of you at home to make you comfortable. On the days you do feel up for going out, he stays close by your side the whole time, hyping you up and keeping your attention at least partially focused on him so you don’t get overwhelmed as easily. He just approaches it all with a very light, loving energy that instantly puts you at ease.

Namjoon: Honestly, despite him being quite extroverted, I could see him being super understanding of your anxieties, though he might struggle at times to understand your perspective on certain situations. Lowkey, he becomes your bodyguard whenever the two of you go out, lol, making sure your not overwhelmed and feel calm and secure in your surroundings. When you’re struggling or having a bad day, he’d be soo comforting and calming, even if all you need is a realllly tight hug(his hugs have healing powers, I’m sure)

Jimin: God bless this sweet boy, he would be soo patient and gentle with you, talking softly and keeping a hand in yours the whole time whenever you go out together. He would have no problem with date nights just being cozy nights in, or even just talking on the phone instead on the days when you’re really struggling and find it hard to be around even him. Whatever helps you feel more comfortable and allows the two of you to spend more time together is all he cares about.

Taehyung: Though he seems to enjoy being around people, he’s quite empathetic and would be soo comforting and soothing to have around when you're feeling anxious. He’d be great at combating the guilt/embarrassment that sometimes comes with the fear of social interaction, giving you a reasurring squeeze(if you’re comfortable) and remiding you that it’s okay to take your time and do things at your own pace. He’d set up date nights at home that are so cute nither of you miss going out.

Jungkook: He may not understand the full extent of your anxieties, but I think he would be really sympathetic and acomodating to your needs. Like this dude’s more than happy having a cozy night in, building y’all a pillow fort and bingewatching whatever show or movies you want. He’s super protective whenever you do feel like going out, making sure that you’re as comfortable as possible and taking breaks to make sure you don’t push yourself too far and get drained or overwhelmed.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @feminympho @classicalelephant @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @bo0ghol @seleneacyoflove @k4ngelz @universal-travel-er

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nymphaea-blue · 18 hours ago

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Oneshot - Rafayel would be good with kids.

Info : 1400+ word count, reader and Rafayel are dating, reader is referred to as a female, fluff, mentions of missing someone, perhaps hurt/comfort, small allusion to the possibility of having kids with him in the future towards the end, Tina is in fact made up and doesn't exist within Love and Deepspace lore.

Notes : Rafayel is giving me amazing older brother vibes and that's what inspired this ^^,

Rafayel would be good with kids.

Your coworker, Tara, has a younger sister named Tina that you were charged with taking care of because Tara was needed urgently at work. You didn't mind, she was your good friend and since her sister was around 7, you didn't think it would be a big issue.

The first hour or two went great, you two had fun and as it turned out, Tina was a great kid, pretty shy but smart and well behaved. Later on however, you got a call from Jenna, the situation Tara was tasked with investigating got out of hand and your team was needed ASAP to handle wanderers.

You scrambled to find someone that would be able to watch over Tina, but everyone you thought about was sure to be busy… except one person.

“Hey cutie, missed me?” Rafayel picked up your call quickly, his tone a mix of playfulness and a hint of happiness at the fact it was you calling.

“Well yes, but I need your help… My friend left her little sister in my care but I'm urgently needed for a mission and I need someone to watch over her for a few hours. Would you be able to do it? Pleaseee?” You begged slightly on the phone, there was a slight worry and panic in your voice because time was of the essence but you were also worried about Tina.

“Hmm.. I dun know, what would I get from it, hm? My schedule is very busy, ya know.”

“I will buy you takeout and bring you more materials for paints. Please Rafayel, I need to leave soon!”

“Alright alright, I was just kidding, I would help anyways. Bring her over, I can play nanny for a few hours.”

As the doors closed and Rafayel waved last goodbyes to you as you hurriedly left, he was left alone with a little kid. Great, soo what now? He had no idea how to care for a child.

“Hey kid, what would you like to do? I got some books here, but I doubt you wanna read them.. they are pretty boring to be honest.” He asked in hopes of trying to figure out the little girl a bit more. She seemed very quiet ever since she entered the studio.

“It's okay, I got my own book, thank you sir.” Tina politely said before she went back to her book as she sat on the couch in Rafayels studio. She was a little shy, it was visible with how she tried to take as little space as possible and not make a sound, but he could work with that.

Rafayel nodded and went back to his painting for a while. He thought that perhaps giving the girl some time to warm up would be a good idea, though he kept an eye on her as well to make sure she would be alright.

After about thirty minutes, he stepped down from his high chair and went over to the nearby kitchen to prepare two glasses of water and he came back to the studio to hand one to Tina.

“What book are you reading?” He asked curiously as he started to drink his own water.

“... It's a book about wanderers.” Tina answered shortly as she stared at the glass he gave her before taking a small sip and placing it on a nearby table.

“Really? That's quite a topic. Are you interested in fighting?

“Not really, I… wanna be smart, like my sister. She works in the Hunters Association.”

“Ah, that's quite a noble job. My friend works there too, she does a good job protecting the city or whatever but she doesn't have as much time to meet up with me anymore.”

“What do you do while you wait for her?”

“I paint. Commissions, art for exhibitions, her.. anything, really. Doing what I like is a great distraction.”

“... I don’t feel distracted.”

“Hm?”

“I still miss her… even though I do what I like”

There it was, she opened up a little. He thought that such a subject wasn't great for a young kid, there was bound to be a reason.

“Hmm, well do you really like reading this? Or do you like doing this because it reminds you of your sister?”

“I don't know…”

“That's okay. Missing someone can be horrible, especially with all the waiting. Take me for example, I'm not the most patient person in the world so it's horrible sometimes to just stay all alone while she's somewhere else. But in the end, when my friend does return, the feeling of joy is undeniable, and I think she would like me to be happy while I wait rather than be all sad and think of her.”

“.. So what should I do?”

“Why don't you try something else? Like painting, for example.” Rafayel said as he got up and quickly gathered two small canvases, some paints, brushes and cups of water before returning to her side and sitting on the floor in front of the couch.

“Painting is a great way to pour all of your feelings onto one place, so you can focus on what exactly you feel. Then, you can show it, using colours, symbolism, texture - anything, really.” He explained in full focus as he talked about something he knew so well as he patted the space next to him to invite Tina to sit next to him.

“So.. how about instead of missing your sister, and thinking of what she does, you think of what you feel and what you want to do?” He looked at her when he said those words and extended a paint brush if she only wanted to accept his offer.

You rang the doorbell as soon as you found yourself in front of Rafayels house. It was late by now, the mission took much longer than expected, and you felt bad about leaving Tina with Rafayel for so long while you were the one who was supposed to take care of her.

He didn't answer, so you used the key you had and opened the door yourself. After you closed it and went into the living room, you saw Tina and Rafayel talking and painting while sitting on the floor. They were so deep into the conversation that they didn't even notice you at first, until Rafayel spotted you after a few minutes.

“Ah, there you are! Started to think you forgot about us. You took your sweet time.” He teased as he stood up and walked over to you while Tina continued her artwork. She looked much happier and energetic now, you noticed.

“I'm sorry… the mission was much more intense than we all thought. I brought you some food though! And I found some pretty flowers nearby as well, I thought you could make some nice colours out of them.” You responded as you handed him the payment for taking care of Tina. You felt bad but you hoped that it would be enough to make it up to Rafayel.

“Hmm..” Rafayel inspected the flowers, before he picked one up and then tucked it into the hair behind your ear. “I think this one should stay with you, it contrasts your eyes nicely.”

His smoothness somehow always threw you off guard, even after dating for a while. A small romantic gesture yet it made your heart flutter.

“Thank you for the food though, but I ate already. We had some seafood for dinner.” He said as he took the takeout bag from your hands.

“Really? You made food?”

“Why are you surprised? I can cook if I want to, besides, someone had to feed the kid since you left her all alone.” He said as he pointed to Tina.

“She wasn't all alone, she was under your care!”

Tina, who probably heard her name being called, soon ran up to you holding her masterpiece in her hand.

“Look what I made with uncle Rafayel! Do you think she will like it?”

“I know she will love it!” You said as you patted her head. Uncle Rafayel? That was a new one, she seemed to have gotten along with him quite easily.

“Thank you for taking care of her, Rafayel. You really did me a favour.” You thanked him as Tina was getting ready to leave his studio. You were quite happy because Tina looked much more open now, you wondered how he did it.

“It was no issue, really. The kid is smart, we just talked a bit and painted, I did nothing.” He said nonchalantly, though in your eyes - he did a great job. It was endearing almost, how easily he got along with her and even without much knowledge on kids, he did his best to care for her. Perhaps in the future, he would care like this for other kids as well.

#love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace #rafayel #lads rafayel #rafayel x reader #lads #lads fluff #fluff #lads oneshot

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revelboo · 3 days ago

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May I ask for some scraps of TFP Wheeljack goodness? ;w;

Sure!

Crooked Ways Pt 3

TFP Wheeljack x Reader

• “You know I don’t like this game,” he growls and your shoulders hunch. And that he hates it is exactly why you’re ignoring him. Passively getting some revenge on the kidnapping alien. Trying to make him as miserable as you are. Shivering when he retaliates by cranking how cold it is inside his interior, chilling your damp skin and hair until you curl on your side in his seat. “All you have to do is behave.” Like it’s that easy. Like you’re the one being problematic. Like this is your fault.

• Hates as you shiver against him, almost relenting when you press your face against his seat. Hiding your eyes from him to snub him. Driving back to the Jackhammer, he opens the door and transforms as soon as you slide out, grabbing you around the middle and carrying you inside the cloaked ship. You really think not talking to him is changing anything? Trying to hurt him the only way you can. Venting he sits on the berth and lays back, servos pinning you against his chassis over his spark. “I hate you,” you mutter as he presses a servo between your shoulders and rubs.

• “So, you’ve told me.” Head falling back against his berth, legs dangling over the edge, he tries to figure out why he can’t let you go. Why he needs you here despite knowing you despise him. Remembering the day he’d stumbled across you, the sound of your voice singing to yourself. Not a care in the world as you’d hung clothes on a line in your yard in the heat of the day. Finding the secluded house a surprise while patrolling. And your voice had snared him, for the first time in a long time he’d remembered home. His carrier singing to him, gentle hands cupping his face and telling him how proud she was of him. You’re not her. Nothing like her, but your voice had echoed through him, reminded him of a time before the war. “Sing for me, little bird.” A time when he was actually happy, not just pretending.

• Eyes closed, you’re tempted to pretend to be asleep, but know he’s likely to start prodding at you if you do. Get angry and insist. Blowing out a breath, you sing the first song that comes to mind. Know he doesn’t actually care what you sing as his optics shutter and his servo slides lazily up and down your spine. Can’t look at him right now, because that scarred mouth will be twisted into a smile. For a while anyway. Asks you to sing even though it always just ends up putting him in a worse mood after. But he’ll leave you alone for a while after like he can’t stand to look at you. And you can try to find a way to escape even though you know you’re never escaping him.

• Denta gritting, he stares at the ceiling of the Jackhammer and vents as you fall silent. “You’d end me if you could, wouldn’t you?” He asks and waits for your tired, little ‘yes.’ And of course, you would. You hate him. He hates you. It works even as it leaves him feeling so oddly empty. That brokenness all jagged edges that hurts a little more every day. “Say my name.” Still can’t look at you as you whisper it to him, voice angry and tired, making it a curse. “Again. Say it again.”

#transformers x reader #wheeljack x reader #tfp wheeljack

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notlongtolove · 1 day ago

Text

petals and frost

hotch had called it a brief attachment—six months, no more. an agent liaison from the nyc office, sent down to smooth future communication, to streamline workflow. a brief attachment, hotch had said. too bad spencer hadn’t really remembered to keep it in mind.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: angst w no happy ending (sowie)

content: avoidant bau reader, non descriptive mentions of sex

word count: 2.8k words

note: written for @mggslover 1k event, congrats once again my love!!! yall can blame @esote-rika for that sadistic ending, i idea dumped that on her and said i didnt know if it wld be too angsty and she begged me to use it so... fuck yalls valentines ig (anyways spencer reid, just know that i, user notlongtolove, would neverrrr do that to you)

a line: You’re spring and the purple wildflowers on his skin are begging to be made yours, over and over again.

And some part of me came alive, the first time that you called me ‘baby’ The perfect genius of our hands and mouths. - Hozier, First Time

Hotch had called it a brief attachment—six months, no more. An agent liaison from the NYC office, sent down to smooth future communication, to streamline workflow. You were easy to like, easy to talk to, definitely easy on the eyes. A brief attachment, Hotch had said. The phrase seemed almost oxymoronic—Spencer hadn’t really remembered to keep it in mind.

As it turns out, there are a lot of other things Spencer forgets around you. When you twist your hair into a haphazard ponytail mid briefing, he forgets the third personality trait of a classified sociopath. You don’t. Interpersonal offensiveness, Reid. That’s criminology 101. Emily makes a comment under her breath about his IQ being slashed in half. If you do hear her, you pretend not to.

When you slide a beer across the table after your first case, he forgets that he doesn’t drink, masking a grimace as he takes a sip. You’re trying. He doesn’t want you to feel bad. By the time he’s on his second, his face is warm. Too fast, he tells himself. From the alcohol, definitely not from the way your thigh is pressed against his in the booth.

Later, when you’ve got him pinned against the wall under a dim lamppost kissing him breathless, he tries to forget the bureau’s policy on interoffice relationships. It’s after hours. You’re not really part of the team. You’re here contractually. A technicality. He can make an exception.

You run your hands through his hair tugging faintly and he decides he will make an exception.

The only thing Spencer doesn’t forget that night is the route from O’Keefe’s to his apartment though it’s a blur all the way from the cab to his apartment to his bed. He pulls you through his front door, fingers curled tight around your wrist. A tangle of limbs and lips pressed against lips feverishly, desperately—He’s certain he’s got that memorised.

“I’m not…” you start, voice faltering between kisses, searching for the right words that just aren’t coming when you’re straddling him and he’s looking at you the way that he is, “not looking for anything… serious.”

Alarm bells go off in his head blaring amidst the euphoric haze he’s in. It’s a warning he registers but doesn’t heed. Caution. Danger ahead. He tells himself that if he squints hard enough, that if he really really tries—It’s a challenge. And Spencer Reid has never backed down from a challenge.

So he bites. Takes the bait. Plays along.

“What makes you think I am?”

You smirk like you don’t believe him but your fingers move to make quick work of the buttons on hhis shirt anyways. He tries to laugh when you joke about how you should definitely apply for a permanent spot on the team now, but it sticks in his throat. He distracts himself by closing his eyes.

“Spencer,” you say breathlessly, “you sure about this, baby?”

His eyes snap open so fast it startles you, leaving you flustered, halfway to pulling back before his grip tightens at your waist, keeping you right where you are. His throat bobs as he swallows hard.

“W-what’d you just say?”

You blink back at him. “I asked if you’re sure about—”

“No, the—the other part. The last part.”

A pause. Then, deliberately, “Baby?”

Oh fuck.

“Y-yeah. That.” He squeezes his eyes shut like he’s bracing for impact. “Say it again. Please.”

You smirk, the corner of your mouth twitching like you’re holding back a laugh as you lean down to press slow, open-mouthed kisses down his bare chest, whispering against his skin, “whatever you want baby.” Spencer has to force his eyes shut again.

You mark him up in the shades of purple wildflowers. Spencer shivers at the sight of them. Theres not much talking when skin finally meets skin. Spencer’s starved, insatiable, burning hot and ice cold all at once. This okay, baby? Yes, yes, god, yes. Can I? Yes, please, please do. Sweat pools around your bodies and Spencer tries to forget how much he wants to remember this moment. The purple wildflowers bloom across his skin—deadnettle, henbit, african violets.

Oh, he thinks, this one’s gonna hurt, isn’t it?

When Spencer wakes the next morning, he’s only mildly afraid to open his eyes.

He’s never done this before—doesn’t know what to expect. But he knows enough to predict the possibilities. Regret. Yours, not his. Shame, embarrassment, maybe even anger. You’ll be gone. Nothing left behind but the imprint of your body on his sheets, marks of purple left in your wake.

Spencer Reid does not like not knowing.

So he braces himself, steels his nerves, and opens his eyes—only to be met with something far worse.

You.

Still here.

Curled up beside him, peaceful, angel deep in sleep, gut wrenchingly soft. In sleep, you’re nothing like how you are on the field. Out there, you’re a good shot, a great one, you think quick on your feet, you’re confident, never stuttering or stumbling like he does. You’re heaven on earth, right in his bed—He’s utterly ruined for it. He doesn’t know what possesses him to move closer, to let newfound confidence guide his arm around your waist. But he does. You stir, just barely, waking to the feeling of his lips pressed into your hair.

The morning melts into something else entirely. An abandoned attempt at breakfast in bed, clothes forgotten in a scattered trail from the kitchen counter to the couch. Unsanitary, he’d think, if he weren’t already too far gone to care. The boy’s insatiable once again, chasing a thirst only you seem to have awakened in him. It’s fiery and passionate as drinks you in, icy cold hisses when you nip at his neck. But you’re neither summer nor winter. You’re spring and the purple wildflowers on his skin are begging to be made yours, over and over again. The way your nails claw at his back, marks of sinful desire turning into ivy that grows to cover you both. It’s entirely all encompassing.

God, you have him in the palm of your hand and you don’t even know it.

Dancing around the team is its own kind of purgatory. Turtlenecks in sweltering Texas heat which you make up for with a fleeting kiss to his cheek in the break room when everyone else has their back turned. Spencer tells himself to keep his feelings in check, to keep his adoration at bay. But it’s hard to when you exist so seamlessly within the liminal spaces of the team. Always in Hotch’s good books. Cracking jokes just dirty enough to make Morgan laugh and Rossi raise a brow. Even JJ loves you.

Silently, Spencer thanks the BAU’s abysmal budget for the run-down motel they’ve stuck you in. It makes it that much easier to convince you to stay at his place—only for a night or two, maybe three, maybe four, eventually a Baby, Hotch is gonna call us in soon anyway, and the freeway near yours is a nightmare in the mornings. You might as well stay one more night. He seals with a look, a soft plea, and you cave every time.

5 months and a week is what you’ve built together. Your days are disgustingly domestic and Spencer just can’t seem to get enough. It’s not like the two of you go out much. Long days (and longer nights) in the field leave you both drained, running on fumes. Just enough energy left to call in takeout accompanied with something strong for you, water for him. Just enough left to trade lazy kisses between bites and fall into bed tangled together. This is it, isn’t it?

Waking to rushed mornings, shared showers, half-hearted protests when you insist on shampooing his hair for him. Bare feet on hardwood floors and the bumping of hips in the kitchen as he makes coffee for two. Rendezvous on a crappy motel mattress that creaks beneath the weight of both of you when you run out of clothes for the week. Baby, we shouldn’t really—swallowed by the press of lips.

Your laughter comes to him in little bursts of light. You’re his absolute heart in human form.

The purple wildflowers haven’t made an appearance in awhile but spring blooms in his chest all the same. When you inevitably drift off to the sound of his voice reading Spencer makes a mental note to bring The Iliad when he comes to visit. You’ll probably be done with Dante’s inferno by then. The weak fistful you have of his shirt tightens ever so slightly in your sleep and he knows what you want. He turns to shut off the light and fits himself against you, tucking you closer to his chest. Spencer tries to distract himself from the fact that you’re set to leave in a month. He’d drink dry the River Lethe to forget it if he could. Instead, in the quiet, he allows himself to think about what the weather will be when he gets the chance to visit you.

He’s always wanted to go to New York. He’s never been the best flyer and he doesn’t know how he’ll fare on a flight without the comfort of his team and the jet’s coffeemachine. It’ll have to make do, he thinks. It’s only a little over an hour’s flight. He tells himself it’s basically nothing. He can handle it. Besides, he can always make the eight hour drive, or the six hour train. The options are endless, much like his devotion to you—He’ll walk to you if he has to.

“Do you think you’ll have time for a trip when I come visit?” Spencer asks one night, eyes boring holes into the ceiling. You’re too busy fumbling with the buttons of his pants to catch the lovelorn grin tugging at his lips. “I know there’s probably a lot to see in New York, but I’ve been saving my days off. And if I catch Hotch on a good day, I think I could carve out a few more.”

“Oh, baby, I don’t know,” you murmur, distractedly, “I usually don’t get much time off when I’m back. Let me know if you are planning to come, though—I’d love to show you around for a day or two.”

The fuck?

Show him around? A day or two?

It’s frosty. Ice cold. A slow caress of his cheek at arms length. Cruel in the way that kindness can be. He tenses beneath you, shifting upright so suddenly that you blink up at him, confused.

“Everything okay, baby?”

The frown on his face indicates he’s anything but okay. “Yeah,” Spencer lies. “I just… I just thought—I mean, you knew I was planning to come visit, right?”

You hesitate. “Spence, we didn’t really discuss that, I—”

“I know we didn’t.” He tries to keep his frustration subtle, but it slips through when he runs a hand through his hair sharply. “But this? Us? How could I not?”

You try again, gentler this time. “Oh, baby, you don’t have to. I know you’re really busy, and—”

“I want to.”

The realisation settles slowly into your features. And then, quietly—naively—he lets himself ask, “Don’t you want me to?”

Silence.

Oh.

Somewhere deep inside him the ivy shrivels and the purple wildflowers wither. It appears that spring has come to a close.

“Spencer,” you say gravely, “I thought we talked about this—” He doesn’t hear the rest. It all dissolves into static, white noise humming in his skull. He hates that tone on you—the way it sounds so careful, so deliberate. Its how you talk to Hotch, to unsubs, to people that need to be managed. Never how you talk to him. Not how you talk to him when you share sly jokes and interlock pinkies at the back of the van, thighs touching when you share a blanket in the jet. Not how you talk when you whisper baby, stop, someones gonna see us when he insists on a chaste kiss to your nose and another to your forehead—Because how could he ever stop at one?

He blinks back into focus when you reach for his hand, thumb brushing lightly over his knuckles.

He should brace for the inevitable. He knows what’s coming, but he’s too far gone for it to matter, too far off the deep end for it to hurt now. What’s a stab to the heart when you make up for it with cotton-soft kisses and a feather light touch? I’m sorry, baby. Please don’t be sad. I wish I could stay too. Don’t be mad, okay? I don’t want you to be mad at me. As if he ever could be. Not when you’re kissing him the way that you are. Still, Spencer tries to tell himself that the wildflowers that bloom into rosettes beneath your touch are fragile things. He tries to carve it into his bones to remind himself that they won’t survive the winter of your absence.

It starts with the smallest frost, like soft snowflakes clinging to his lashes, signs he might have missed if he wasn’t already looking out for them. “Baby, you shouldn’t have,” you say when he comes home with a restock of your makeup remover. Spencer only shrugs, wordless. He knows you mean it. Not out of politeness, not out of gratitude, but because there won’t be any use for it soon.

Winter calls for shorter days, for less sunlight. It brings more cases, more exhaustion, more time spent apart. Nights where Spencer wakes up to an empty bed because you’d insisted on packing your suitcase, and insisted on doing it alone. As it turns out, the cold really does bite.

It all couldn’t happen fast enough.

Nobody bats an eye when Spencer insists on tagging along to drop you off at the airport. It’s practical, really—an extra set of hands. Even Morgan doesn’t say a word, doesn’t call him lover boy with that knowing smirk. Maybe he would’ve if Spencer didn’t already look like he was on the brink of death. Hotch keeps his goodbye brief, a quiet nod, a quick squeeze of your shoulder after he helps unload your suitcase from the van. He mumbles something about keeping in touch, about how the door’s always open.

Spencer is the one who walks you to your terminal. You walk briskly ahead of him, fingers curled loosely around the handle of your suitcase. You’d brushed off his offer to help—All the better because he has to shove his hands into the pockets of his coat just to keep them steady. He tries to count the steps between the check-in counter and security. All in all, both literally and ironically, too little too late.

This is finality, signed, sealed, delivered. The clock has run out. Spencer Reid is out of time. And, for once, Spencer Reid is out of words.

So, it’s you who takes his hand, pulling him closer. Drop me a call if you ever come visit okay? I will, I will. You’ll love it there. Take care. Call me whenever. This was amazing. You’re amazing. You’re so good. Too good. It’s you who tilts his chin and kisses him with such force he wants call it love. He would call it love. If you asked, he’d rip the wildflowers from his ribs and place them at your feet as proof disguised as an offering. You’re kissing like you’re trying to make him forget—where you both are, where you’re going, where he’s staying. You pull away, breathless, fingertips ghosting along his jaw when the intercom blares above you. He lets the last shreds of sunlight slip from his grasp when you walk through the gate. Spencer doesn’t stay to see if you turn back or not. He’s felt like an afterthought enough.

The van is quiet when he climbs in.

Spencer ignores Hotch’s glances, keeps his head down, busies himself with the air conditioning. Granted, he rarely sits shotgun, but still, today, it feels colder than usual.

“She’s a great agent.”

“She is. She… worked great in the team.” Spencer’s fingers tighten around the vent. He nods, swallows around the lump in his throat. “You should’ve offered her a spot.”

Hotch’s eyes stay set on the road. “I did. JJ and I drafted a two-year contract for her.”

Spencer scoffs bitterly, “yeah? I’m sure Strauss took that well.”

“Strauss had no issue with it.”

That makes Spencer pause. His head turns, brows pulling together. “Then?”

A beat of silence before Hotch exhales, “she rejected it.”

The world stops. His stomach drops first, then his chest. Fragile stems and violet petals turn brittle, cracking as the frost works its way through him. Tiny pieces of petals and frost splinter his being. A brief attachment, no doubt. He should’ve known better. He should’ve noticed the subtlest change in the winds, distractions cloaked in tender touches as wandering hands made their way beneath clothes, apologies in a baby, I wish I could stay too. He really should’ve remembered to forget you.

He feels the wildflowers inside him freeze over and with the gentlest shift of breath—They shatter.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you so much for reading! likes, comments or reblogs are very much appreciated!

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer x reader #spencer x self insert #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader angst #lovers1kevent #criminal minds fanfiction

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thisgirlnamedblusy · 3 days ago

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Hiya Blusy! Could you write something where the reader is Donna’s maid and over the years, they’ve developed a close working relationship. Eventually Donna starts doing things like holding reader’s hand, calling her pet names etc, but never anything explicitly romantic like kisses. Reader has been in love with Donna for a while now, and she just thinks Donna’s being affectionate because they’re close, so she accepts and returns the gestures. And then at the lords meetings, visits to castle Dimitrescu, and on the phone, Donna sometimes tells the other lords how wonderful her girlfriend is. Reader is confused and jealous that Donna apparently has a girlfriend that she doesn’t know about… not realizing that Donna is actually talking about her! Eventually she figures it out, like “what do you mean we’re already dating?”

I really enjoy reading all your stories, Blusy! You are doing amazing work at keeping Donna fans fed. Keep it up, but don’t forget to take breaks!

Yesss!!! Sorry about the delay, and thank you for your request!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes too!!! :)))))))

What do you mean by "girlfriends"?

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem, maid! Reader

Warnings: Fluff, Donna being Donna

Word count: 8,663

Summary: Why was she doing that? What was on her mind?

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! THANK YOU FOR YOUR LOVING MESSAGES, I'M VERY HAPPY TO BE BACK!!!

“That's it... you here...” you murmured as you arranged a pile of books on a shelf. “Perfect.”

Sighing, you looked at the result of your effort, finding a comforting pleasure in a well-done job.

You didn't really understand why those damn books always appeared in disarray, but you did have slight suspicions about who the culprit was.

“Angie...” you hissed, narrowing your eyes, too accustomed to the doll's pranks. “You'll never change.”

After three years working in that house, chores became mere pastimes. You were always a happy, hard-working girl, confident in what you did, well, almost always.

If you thought about how you had ended up like that, you were still surprised by yourself. You wanted a future, some way to get a job that didn't involve serving an impossibly tall woman and her daughters.

In that village, the options were few, and none were particularly pleasant. At the foot of the castle there was always a line of beautiful girls determined to serve Lord Alcina Dimitrescu as maids.

The decision was between join that queue of aspiring handmaidens, or find a different place to earn a living. You weren’t that brave, and, despite everything, you walked through the snowy forest, crossed a sinister path and a dangerously unstable bridge to make a very risky move.

With the lady of the castle surrounded by maids, your options were considerably reduced. You would have to look for another place, perhaps another Lord to serve.

Lord Heisenberg, perhaps? No, he wasn’t the kind of man that needed to be served or to look for someone who was… alive. Mother Miranda? Gods, you didn’t even consider it. You didn’t want to end up like one of the poor creatures who hunted at night.

What about Moreau? Oh, no, definitely not.

There was still one option left for you, one you hadn't considered in the first place, one you didn't want to consider. There was one Lord left, the youngest, the most unknown, the woman in mourning who lived beyond the forest, in the old mansion by the waterfall, the doll maker, Donna Beneviento.

The little knowledge you had about her was an advantage, but also a drawback. Knowing what you could face reassured you, but in this case, it wasn’t possible. To tell the truth, no one knew much about young Beneviento, at least, nothing good.

But things were really bad in your old cabin, and you were sure that you wouldn’t endure the cold of winter another year.

Forgetting about the rumors about the mysterious Lady Beneviento, you decided to try your luck. If you had known what awaited you, you would have done it sooner, much sooner.

The shrill voice of the lady's living doll kicked you out of the place as soon as she saw you, saying that you weren’t needed, that you should leave immediately. With failure already in your eyes and a treacherous trembling in your legs, you decided to give up, and pray to the Black Gods that you could return alive.

There were no visions, no nightmares and no evil power that made you hallucinate as you had heard from the people of the village. You could only hear the sound of footsteps in the snow, your own.

One step, two, three, and finally an impertinent cry from Angie, calling you not to go too far away.

You didn't know why the lady had changed her mind, and you didn't want to know, but she did and hired you as her maid.

You couldn't deny that that ghostly air and the black veil that covered her face intimidated you, especially the first days, but you soon got used to it.

Donna Beneviento was just as the rumors said. She was a sick woman, who didn't even speak to you, locked in her old workshop for hours, with the only company of her inert dolls. You could even say that she had an irrational aversion to people, to you… but… then, why were you still alive? Why didn't your reality distort and force you to throw yourself off the cliff?

The mystery stopped being dark and sinister and became a complex but entertaining riddle.

Perhaps without the presence of that rebellious puppet you would have gone crazy. It's not that you were a girl who loved conversations, but your mistress's eternal silence was heavy, uncomfortable, terrifying.

The days, the weeks, the months passed without any change. You did your chores, bowed slightly to your mistress and rested, a routine only broken by the games of the Angie doll, in which you, usually, were the protagonist.

But everything changed that day, the day you realized how hurt Beneviento's mind was. It was an unexpected crisis, in the middle of a dinner that seemed calm. The woman in black began to scream, to move, to try to hurt herself. Luckily, you were there to prevent it.

Her madness was so great that it even made that black veil disappear, thus unveiling her face to you involuntarily. You were too busy to notice her. You didn't want her to hurt herself, you couldn't stand to see her suffer like that. She didn't deserve it, she had never shown you that she deserved such punishment from the Gods.

She got worse before she got better, going from rage to tears quickly and finally finding comfort in your arms, in your chest and in your soft, reassuring words. When Donna calmed down completely, she came back to reality, aware of what she had done, of what you were seeing: her face, one that no one should ever see.

You thought that the crisis would return, that her madness would attack her again, and perhaps you would be the target of her anger, but it wasn't like that.

The lady slowly stood up grabbing the veil she had thrown away, looking down at the ground, blinking erratically with her one eye. In the middle of that unpleasant situation, she did it; she finally talked to you by herself:

“Thank you”

Her hoarse, but melodic and seductive voice reached your ears while your eyes were still processing her beauty. You couldn't say you didn't know what she looked like, since the portrait on the stairs was a good reference, but seeing it in person, seeing the beautiful woman you worked for with your own eyes... Something definitely changed that day.

Not only her voice became frequent, but the veil disappeared. Surely she realized that you didn't act as if you had seen a monster, that you weren't disgusted by the scar that deformed her face. Yes, she may have realized that your eyes saw a woman and not a deformed being that torments children in their nightmares.

Time only improved that great change, making the shy and hermit ventriloquist find in you something resembling a friend. The truth was that you two shared tastes, interests. Contrary to what you initially believed, you had many things in common.

Donna was a strange woman, of course, but sweet in some way, intelligent, elegant... in short: she was the opposite of what was said in the village.

You, who thought you would find a job with which to survive, found more than that, you found a friend, a good friend.

The sound of the door distracted you from your memories, causing you to turn on your heels and shake the dust that covered your apron as you walked, also taking the opportunity to arrange your hair correctly.

“Donna, you're back,” you said kindly, welcoming the woman in black and her doll at the entrance.

“Of course we're back! Don't you see us, silly maid?” Angie said, moving in her owner's arms as Donna lowered her to the floor. “Did you have fun, silly?”

“Yes, I actually had a really great time tidying the shelves,” you said with a mocking smile, putting your hands on your hips. “How funny, someone was kind enough to mess up all the books to keep me busy.”

“You're welcome, silly, that way you wouldn't get bored,” the doll replied, laughing evilly and passing by you with disinterest.

“Yes, thank you very much,” you said through clenched teeth, shaking your head and looking back at the lady in black, who was bringing one of her hands to her veil, slowly removing it. “How was the meeting?”

“Mm, not good,” the brunette whispered, looking away from you with an air of nervousness and sadness as she folded her veil carefully, leaving it on a nearby table.

“Oh, um, did something happen?” you asked pleasantly.

She shook her head, sighing and walking slowly towards the dining room, letting herself fall into one of the chairs. Slowly, you approached her, putting a hand on her shoulder, ready for a comforting talk that poor Donna was unwillingly asking for.

“Donna, what's wrong?” you asked quietly. “Gods, you're freezing.”

“Mm, nevermind, (Y/N),” she answered, sighing again.

“Donna,” you said, sitting in a chair front of her. “Tell me what worries you… Well, as long as it doesn't have anything to do with Mother Miranda's evil plans or something similar,” you joked, getting her lips to form a shy smile.

“No, it's just that… I was looking forward to going home,” Donna explained, with a sweet, sincere voice. “These meetings are torture for me, I, I just want to be with my dolls and…”

“Oh, Donna, I know,” you interrupted calmly. “Don't worry. You're at home now, mm?”

“Yes…” she sighed, smiling again. “I'm at home… Sorry, (Y/N), I'm… I'm not having a good day…”

“I know,” you said in a soft, understanding tone. “I’m not surprised. With this cold it's hard to be cheerful.”

“Mm,” the lady murmured, looking out the window wistfully.

“Do you know what you need?” you said in a louder voice, clapping your hands, which comically scared your mistress, who shook the head with her eye wide open. “I'm going to prepare a relaxing bath for you, it will help you warm up, what do you think?”

“It's… it's… yes, I think it's a good idea, grazie, (Y/N),” she answered, with an innocent smile.

“Great, I'll let you know when it's ready,” you said enthusiastically, glancing sideways at Angie, who was climbing up the bookshelf, threatening to mess it up again. “Hey, I'm watching you!”

“Don't look at me, silly!” the doll answered squeakily. “I'm checking your work.”

“Ugh,” you growled annoyed. “No, no, no! Hey, I just tidied it up!” you shouted as you saw how the puppet slowly took out one of the books. “Angie!”

“Angie, basta! Lasciala estare!” Donna said, coming to your defense, as usual.

“You’re an annoying killjoy,” Angie protested, getting down from the bookshelf, shaking her head haughtily and leaving the dining room.

“Angie...” the lady hissed, putting two fingers on her temples. “This is the last time I...”

“It's okay, Donna. You already know her,” you said, downplaying it. “I'm used to it. Just relax, the bath will be ready soon.”

With those words and a soft caress on her back, you went down the elevator, ready to make the lady in black feel better. Of course, you knew that meetings with her siblings weren’t to her liking. She never asked to be a Lord, she was forced to be one; she was forced to stay away from a solitude she didn’t choose, but that she enjoyed somehow.

As you filled the bathtub, you remembered all the moments you spent with her, the laughs you sometimes shared, the moments of silent reading, the dinners in the sole company of your eyes…

Fine, you had to admit it once and for all. Saying that Donna was your friend was an understatement, it was almost rude to your feelings. Over time, you began to see the lady in black not only as an interesting and attractive woman, but as something more… Something you still didn’t admit.

The looks, the kind and gentle words, the unthinkable kindness coming from someone like her, her beauty, which she denied so much…

You had been in that house for three years, one of them completely in love with Donna.

You knew that love was something completely unknown for her, fictitious, but still you allowed yourself to fantasize at night about what your life would be like with her, what it would be like to love her. Of course, these were completely fanciful feelings, ones you didn't think you could make real, ones you felt you had to hide from her.

After all, you were still her maid even if you melted for her, even if she looked at you like that, even if your heart raced with every smile.

“Donna? Can I come in?” you asked after letting the lady relax in the tub. You hoped that at least that sadness you saw in her eye had disappeared.

“Yes, of course,” she said, opening the door while putting on an elegant black silk robe, which made your eyes travel unintentionally to one of her legs, that was uncovered with the movement.

Not now, (Y/N)

“How was the bath? Did it feel good?” you asked kindly, blinking to force yourself to stop looking at the pale skin the black fabric was revealing.

“Yes, thank you, (Y/N),” Donna whispered, sitting on a stool next to the sink.

You approached with a smile, knowing the meaning of that innocent gesture.

“Let's see…” you murmured, taking a brush and starting to run it through her black hair, a soft and mysteriously delicate hair. “Mm, maybe you want to try a new hairstyle, don't you?”

“No,” the lady said dryly, letting your hands enjoy the caresses on her hair while you noticed each white hair that broke the harmony of the darkness, like a field of stars in the night sky.

“Fine,” you whispered kindly, starting to comb her hair carefully. “Well, so…” you said after a few seconds of silence, making her eye look at you through the mirror. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“What do you mean?” Donna asked, frowning.

“The meeting, you said it didn't go well,” you commented in a calm voice while you passed the brush with a slow, calm movement.

“The meeting went well,” she said, making you stop and arch your eyebrows with a tender smile, enjoying her clumsy way of communicating. “As good as it could go, I guess…”

“Mm,” you murmured, nodding, handling the brush gracefully while shaping her usual bun.

“Alcina wanted to talk to me,” the lady commented, ruffling her hair in a childish way to give the hairstyle her personal touch, a messy and adorable touch you loved.

“What did she say to you?” you asked, observing the result in the mirror.

Donna seemed somewhat nervous, slowly turning to look directly at you while biting her lower lip, as if she was embarrassed by something.

“You don't have to tell me, forget that I asked you,” you said after a few seconds of uncomfortable silence. “I don't want to get into your business.”

“It's just that... she... she's worried about me,” the lady finally explained, without looking you in the eyes, nervously playing with her hands.

“Worried about you?” you asked in a low tone, without making her more nervous, as you learned to do a long time ago.

She nodded slowly, sighing and raising her gaze to you briefly.

“She says that... that I'm alone and... and that I should have someone by my side...” she commented with difficulty, making clear to you that she was embarrassed by this type of conversation, although at first, you didn't understand why. “She thinks that being alone isn't good and that I would be much happier if I wasn't and...”

“Oh,” you sighed, leaving the brush on the sink and listening to her attentively. “Well, actually, you're not alone, Donna.”

“Angie is irrelevant,” the lady grumbled, crossing her arms, breathing more and more agitated, which put you on alert. “Am I really alone? You...? You think she's right?”

“Shh, hey, Donna,” you whispered, resting your hands on her shoulders, waiting for her gaze to meet yours. “The truth is that she's somewhat right, but, she's wrong about one thing,” you said with a serious tone, staring at her. “You're not alone, Donna.”

“I’m not?” she asked, shaking her head, with a suspicious look.

“Of course not,” you affirmed with a smile, rubbing her shoulders reassuringly. “I'm here, with you.”

The lady in black opened her eye wide, as if she had run out of words. You didn't think you had said something so shocking, but seeing a spark of joy on her face motivated you to smile sincerely, maybe too sincerely.

“Y-You mean that I... that you... that you're with me?” she asked, narrowing her eye, as if she didn't trust your words.

“Of course I'm with you, don't you see?” you joked, making her smile again. “Donna, it's been a long time since you aren’t just my boss or my lady. To me, you are something more, something much more... special,” you said, stumbling over your words when you noticed that you were about to say something stupid.

“You are also much more than a maid to me, (Y/N), you are also... special,” she said, with a bright smile on her face. “N-Now I'm not alone because I'm with you, right? I-I won't be alone anymore...”

“Yes,” you said amused, surprised by her changing behavior, but accustomed to it. “I won't abandon you, Donna.”

“I... I won't either...” she said, radiating a strange happiness, one that clashed directly with her melancholic mood, one that seemed to suddenly disappear.

Suddenly, you felt warmth in your hand. The softness of her skin brushed against yours as she gently grabbed it with hers, still looking at you, still smiling.

Your heart was beating very fast, and your mind was starting to draw kisses, a declaration of love from her lips, a fantasy that seemed closer and closer.

With a happy sigh, Donna pulled your hand to her lips, kissing it in a way that made you stagger. It was a quick kiss, too quick, too… empty. Of course, it wasn't what you expected, but you were sure you would dream of that feeling. For the first time in a year, you thought that longed-for moment was closer than ever.

“Grazie,” the lady said, closing her eye and slowly releasing your hand, leaving an unbearable cold on your skin and a clear disappointment in your gaze. “Thank you for being with me, (Y/N).”

“You're welcome,” you whispered sighing too, glad to have made her happy, sad because a kiss of love hadn’t been the end of that conversation. It was just a simple: thank you

“Anyway...” you sighed, wanting to scream, to say that you loved her, but without being able to do it. “I should make dinner,” you said before turning around, ready to leave the bathroom and regret what had happened, or rather, what hadn’t happened.

“Un attimo, (Y/N),” Donna stopped you, getting up hastily from the stool, with that nervous expression again. “Let me help you.”

“Mm?” you murmured about to walk out the door, excited by the idea, but knowing that above all, her well-being was your job. “Oh, no, it's not necessary... you must rest, you've had a bad day and...”

“No!” she squealed, making an exaggerated movement with her hands, making you blink in confusion. “I-I mean that I don't feel sad anymore and… I would really like to cook with you.”

“Oh, well… in that case… okay,” you said with a knowing smile, letting your feelings repress themselves again, leaving the regrets and anger at your cowardice for another time. “Um… Donna,” you whispered amused when the lady also approached the door. “Maybe you should get dressed first, huh?”

“Cosa? Oh, certo, certo…” she said, looking at herself and blushing. “You'll wait for me, right?”

“Of course.”

It wasn't the first time you cooked together, but you couldn't help but have a strange feeling, as if something had changed. After all, you didn't care too much. Spending time with Donna had long been your favorite hobby, and it was even better when she smiled, free of her demons.

You couldn't help but think that her mood swing had been largely due to your encouraging words, but in a dark corner of your mind, there was still that terrible possibility, the possibility that her behavior was just part of her damaged mind, that her unexpected joy would disappear and lead to a terrible crisis.

Unfortunately, it wasn't the first time that this had happened either, and those bitter experiences made you not enjoy that time together enough.

Dinner was silent, as always, but something different was still in the air, a different smile on the lady in black, one that didn’t lead to an episode of madness.

Ignoring the cries of your heart begging you to confess your love, you enjoyed dinner calmly and cautiously, talking about how your day was, about Angie's pranks... about nothing out of the ordinary.

That routine conversation brought you closer to the thought that the change of mood had been a coincidence, and you were about to be devoured by disappointment. But something happened, something that would change everything from that moment on.

After dinner, the best moment of the day arrived, a moment of silent reading with Donna. She read her book, apparently distracted, and you pretended to read yours, glancing sideways at the woman you loved in silence, that woman who was so close to you, but who at the same time was unreachable.

Suddenly, you noticed something moving beside you. Donna wasn't holding the book with both hands, and her free one was sliding slowly across the sofa, searching, reaching for yours. Your breath froze and you glanced at the lady out of the corner of your eye, but she seemed completely oblivious to her own actions.

Your fingers intertwined automatically, without an order from your brain, knowing what you wanted, and how you wanted it. Your heart was beating thunderously, in a way you thought she would be able to hear, while you felt subtle caresses, the softness of her skin brushing against yours.

You thought about reacting, making a noise, clearing your throat, asking for an explanation for this unusual act, but the pleasure you felt when you noticed her caresses, the warmth of her hand on yours, prevented you from doing so. You decided to play along, forcing your hand to move, to stop being cold and motionless and make your fingers caress hers too.

Donna seemed focused on her book. It seemed like she didn't realize what was happening, or she simply didn't give it any importance, something that caused contradictory feelings inside you.

Time passed slowly and your body began to feel heavy, leaning towards hers, as if something invisible was pulling it. Her hand moved away from yours and the lady moved closer, wrapping her arm around you, making your head rest on her shoulder.

You were completely frozen, with your eyes wide open and your breathing accelerated. She didn't look at you, she didn't move, she just ran her hand through your hair gently, settling you comfortably on her body.

The feeling was warm, strange but welcomed. You had many things to ask, many things to say, but you couldn't do it. The comfort you felt on her shoulder, the softness and delicacy of her caresses on your hair forced you to take advantage of the moment, to enjoy it before it was over.

Neither of you said anything about it, and with a not extraordinary farewell, you both went to sleep. Of course, you didn't sleep much that night.

Your head was going round and round about what had happened, about those caresses, about those strange gestures on her part, gestures that had no explanation and at the same time you didn't know if you wanted them to have one.

You only managed to sleep when you convinced yourself that it would be an isolated event, that the conversation in the bathroom and that moment on the sofa were something unique, and of course, unrepeatable.

It wasn't, not at all.

The caresses on your hands became common. They became another part of the routine. It could happen in any circumstance, without warning, leaving you petrified, but relaxed, comfortable. The attitude of the lady in black didn't change too much despite everything.

It was true that her mood was curiously different, she seemed... happy.

The days passed and those strange acts continued, adding more caresses, more glances, adding more hope in your heart, the hope that somehow, you were close to knowing what it felt like to love Donna, what it felt like to be loved in return.

Your name ceased to exist. She no longer addressed you as usual, but in different ways: tesoro, darling, dolcezza… It seemed like simple kindness, as if over time, without you realizing it, your bond continued to strengthen, as if that closeness you already had was increasing little by little.

Of course, that's how the dark and pessimistic part of your mind saw it, a simple coincidence, a trust earned with effort, but that didn't go beyond friendship. Little by little you began to act, checking what would happen if you were the one who initiated those caresses, those unexpected gestures.

Her reaction wasn’t something remarkable, but neither was it ordinary. She simply let herself go, just as you did. It was pretty obvious that something had changed for her, and after a whole month of seemingly meaningless caresses and nice words, you could see a clearer joy on her face.

She even finally agreed to go visit her sister from time to time, something she always refused to do.

Thoughts were eating you up; feelings were burning you from within. It seemed like everything was fine, that you were the situation you wanted to be, but not exactly the way you would like.

You knew it was dangerous, risky, you knew you couldn't do it, but you started to get an idea in your head that you couldn't stop thinking about.

You knew Donna. You knew how afraid she was of people, of relationships, at least with someone other than you or her sister. Did you really think she was going to confess her love to you?

If she really felt something for you... why didn't she dare to tell you and instead caress you, kiss your hands, your cheek or call you affectionately? It was a contradiction, but Donna was herself a contradiction, you couldn't think it was something strange.

So, without the expectation that those three words would come out of her mouth, the only thing left to do was to act, swallow your pride, your fear, stop being a coward to finally be brave and confess to her.

“I know it's going to sound silly, but I think... I think... no, I'm in love with you and...” you said, looking into her eyes, trying to keep your voice from shaking. “Donna, I'm crazy about you and... I... Ugh, no, no, no, no!” you squealed nervously, hitting the porcelain doll you were talking to.

The doll fell to the floor and with a grunt you put it back on the table in your room, pacing impatiently from one side to the other, thinking intensely.

“Let's try this: Donna, I love you and I love when you caress me and call me dolcezza and... Pathetic,” you sighed, letting yourself fall on the bed, looking resentfully at that poor doll. “Gods, why is it so difficult? Focus (Y/N), you know that if you don't tell her she will never do it and...”

“If you don't tell her what?”

“Yiaaah!” you screamed scared when you saw Angie appear through the door, giving you a scare. “Damn it, Angie! What did I tell you about entering my room without warning?”

“I don't know, I have a very poor memory,” the doll answered while you narrowed your eyes, crossing your arms. “What are you doing to this poor doll?”

“Nothing, it's none of your business,” you answered, unable to prevent the doll from getting on your bed.

“Did you want to tell my Donna something?” asked the doll, with a malevolent tone that made you tense up.

“Um, no, I...”

“Donna, Donna! The silly maid wants to talk to you!” Angie shrieked, making your blood boil as you tried to cover the puppet's mouth.

“What are you doing!? Shut up!” you protested, struggling with her, unfortunately hearing familiar heels from downstairs.

Angie broke free from your grip laughing and cowardly running away, leaving you red in embarrassment, forcing you to look over the wooden railing to see Donna, who was looking at you curiously.

“Did you call me, tesoro?” the lady asked, with that sweet tone that drove you crazy, with those pet names that drove you crazy.

“Um, um, um, I…” you stammered, finally mustering up your courage and deciding to take advantage of the moment. “Yes, I… wanted to talk to you.”

“Va bene,” she answered with a kind smile as she watched you walk down the stairs.

Everything you had rehearsed became a mess in your head. It would be a mess, for sure.

“Um, um… Donna…” you murmured in an almost inaudible voice as she looked at you expectantly. “I wanted to talk to you… about… about something…”

“Mm, go ahead,” she urged you, cooling her smile a little. “(Y/N), you're shaking, what's wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing, it's just that... I wanted, I wanted to tell you that... that...” you said awkwardly, in the worst possible way, making her to frown in confusion.

A shrill sound interrupted what was undoubtedly going to be a pathetic confession. The phone rang unpleasantly, but Donna didn't take her eye off you, increasingly worried.

“Oh, I... don't worry, pick it up,” you said, seeing that call as a salvation, an opportunity to think better about your words. “Come on, Donna, maybe it's important.”

The lady nodded slowly, walking towards the dining room while you hid against a wall, growling discreetly.

“Shit, idiot, idiot, idiot…” you lamented in a low voice, pretending to pull your hair. “Damn, one day I'm going to commit dollicide… Gods, this is a disaster…”

“Pronto,” you heard the lady say when she picked up the phone. “Alcina, is something wrong?”

You rubbed your eyes, trying to concentrate, but you couldn't help but feel the strange need to spy, or rather, to accidentally listen to that conversation.

“Oh, you mean this afternoon? Yes, I know, but… I don't know, I, I’d like to spend the afternoon with my girlfriend and…”

You stopped thinking, your vision became blurry and your senses seemed to shut down. You hadn't heard wrong, she had said “my girlfriend”. Everything began to spin around you, you felt dizzy and terribly confused.

It couldn't be, it simply couldn't be true. Did Donna have a girlfriend? No, no, no, no, it couldn't be possible, it couldn't be, right?

You turned pale, making sure you had heard correctly, regretting doing so. You wanted to forget it, you wanted to not acknowledge the fact that seemed impossible, but your mind was already working on tying up the loose ends.

Yes, that could explain a lot of things: Donna's outings, that change in her mood, that increase in confidence... Finally, you understood.

With great regret, you remembered the conversation that day in the bathroom, how you cheered her up, how you agreed with Alcina saying that being alone wasn’t good. You thought she was happy to know that you were by her side, but in reality, that wasn’t the case.

That confidence that you unintentionally gave her surely eliminated the barriers that Beneviento put between her and others. Yes, yes, she surely gained enough self-confidence to dare to meet someone, to find love, to find it in someone, who, of course, was not you.

Everything in your world fell apart with an invisible noise that reverberated throughout your body. You thought about running away, going up to your room and crying until you fell asleep, but you didn't have time to react, you were in shock and Donna ended the call.

“(Y/N),” she said, bringing you out of that trance, feeling how you hadn't even noticed that her hand was on your shoulder. “(Y/N), are you okay?”

“Me? Y-Y-Yes…” you stammered, not really knowing how you could pronounce a single word.

“Okay…” Donna whispered, distrustful, with an air of concern in her eye. “Well, what was it that you wanted to tell me?” she asked, walking with you back to the dining room.

Your body was almost paralyzed, acting by inertia and your eyes were struggling not to cry. You had to be fast, pretend, lie, deny everything you were going to say, deny everything you felt.

“Um, um yes, it's just that… it's just that…” you said, looking around, looking for a way out that didn't exist. “Oh, yes, there are no apples left.”

“Mele,” Donna repeated, frowning and looking at a corner, where a basket overflowing with that sweet fruit was, just to embarrass you.

“Yes, oh, wow! there they were… I… how stupid I am…” you said, red as blood, looking for a window from which to throw yourself into the snow and run away.

“(Y/N), tesoro, are you sure you're okay?” she asked, of course, not believing your pathetic words.

“Yes, great, great, um… yes, I'm very well, how are you?”

“Well… I’m fine,” she whispered, with a smile that pierced your heart. “Oh, I almost forgot, you better not wait for me this afternoon to have tea. I have to go to…”

Another stab in the chest. You knew exactly where I was going, who I was going with.

“Yes, okay, um... no problem, of course,” you said quickly, trying to recover from that open wound.

“Va bene,” the lady murmured, still distrustful. “Relax, I'll be here for dinner.”

“Yes, of course, come whenever you want, it's your house, and... well, and... hurry, hurry up or you'll be late,” you said, pushing the woman from behind.

“Yes, yes, of course,” she said, when you closed the elevator door.

You spent a good part of the afternoon crying. If at any time you thought she had feelings for you, you were terribly wrong. You cried inconsolably and angrily, jealous, trying not to imagine those caresses, those kisses on the cheek, those nice words directed at another woman, at someone who wasn't you.

You still found it incredible that Donna had met someone, she barely left the house, she didn't know how to communicate with others, only with you, damn it, only with you! What kind of treacherous witch had won her heart?

A maid from the castle? No, that wasn't possible since she apparently refused to go with Alcina that afternoon. A villager? It could be... but who? Damn, who?

No matter how much you thought about it, you couldn't find an answer, and you didn't want to look for one.

It was inevitable. Your coldness when she returned was beyond your control. Your heart burned with rage and your eyes, red with tears, refused to look at her, not after what could have happened, what she could have done to someone who wasn't you.

“It looks delicious,” the lady said, rubbing her hands together before dinner, while you played with your food in silence.

“Mm,” you murmured with disinterest, pouring yourself a glass of wine, the third that night.

“Tesoro,” she said, frowning, burning your soul with that word, with that beautiful way of calling you. Liar. “Isn't that too much wine?”

“No, no, no,” you said with a spiteful tone. “It's not.”

Donna looked at you strangely and then continued eating, raising her head from time to time, only to find indifference in your eyes.

“The pasta is perfect, you're a wonderful cook,” the lady commented, with a kind gesture, but one that betrayed a bit of nervousness.

“I know,” you said arrogantly, finishing the glass in one gulp, leaving the brunette confused. “You taught me how to prepare it, Donna.”

“Yes, certo, ma…” she stammered, shaking her head, with a nervous laugh.

“The wine, pass me the wine,” you said coldly.

She obeyed cautiously, swallowing and deciding that it was better to be quiet.

“Well...” you sighed, noticing how the alcohol was beginning to affect your words, how the wine was increasing your jealousy and anger. “Did you have a good time this afternoon?”

“Mm, well, better than I expected,” she answered sincerely, wiping herself with the napkin. “Next time I'd like you to come with me and...”

“No, thanks,” you denied immediately, without letting her finish the sentence. “I have a lot of work.”

“But, (Y/N), I...” Donna said, looking away. “I'd like you to meet her and...”

“Really, Donna? Do you want me to meet her?”

I was talking about her, about that damn mysterious girl, you were convinced.

“It's important to me,” the lady in black explained, extending her hand towards yours, which you pushed away in a quick gesture, knocking over the wine glass.

“Shit,” you protested with a grunt, getting up to go find something to clean up the mess with.

“No, leave it, I'll do it,” she said, putting a hand on your shoulder innocently.

“I have to do it, it's my duty, I'm your maid, remember? Or have you forgotten?” you said, letting out the hatred, the rage that was building up inside you, a hot, intoxicated rage.

“But, (Y/N) what...?” she sighed, with a sad expression. “Tesoro, I think...”

“You think what? Look, it doesn't matter. I'm too drunk to listen to you, why don't you go with your stupid dolls? Or better yet, why don't you go to bed, I'm sure you're exhausted after that visit, right?”

“But, but, what have I done wrong?” she asked, grabbing your wrists, getting dangerously close to you.

You thought about stopping breathing, avoiding smelling the scent of another woman mixed with the lavender of Donna’s perfume. You were unhinged, drunk, and angry, you weren't thinking straight, and you had to do something before you did or said anything stupid.

“Nothing, Donna, you didn't do anything wrong, okay? I…” you sobbed, pulling away from her touch, moving away little by little, something she stopped by gently grabbing your hands.

“Please, let me go…” you hissed, pulling them away to take their warmth from yours, turning around and running to your room, leaving Donna paralyzed, not knowing the reason for your behavior.

Your heart ached as you did so, but the next few days the distance you put between you grew dangerously. Sometimes you gave in, you let her hands caress you, giving you the false illusion that nothing had changed, that nothing else existed apart from you, that she didn't exist.

Frustration and jealousy took their toll on your body and mind, but you still loved her, you still wanted her, you had to continue being her maid, you couldn't lose her, even if you had. Sometimes you cried for no reason, other times you let your body fall on her lap, falling asleep on her, letting her hands soothe your pain, while knowing you would never be hers increased it.

It was a horrible two weeks, really horrible.

“Angie, I'm not in the mood for your nonsense!” you yelled at the doll as you cleaned the shelves, trying to keep the doll from destroying your work, something that normally didn't seem so horrible to you.

“Ugh, you're unbearable, silly,” the doll snorted.

“You are unbearable, do you hear me? You are unbearable!” you growled angrily.

The doll let out a gasp of false surprise, pointing at herself in indignation.

“I'll tell Donna, you silly maid, and she'll be angry with you...” Angie sang.

“Do whatever you want, but she's in her workshop and you know she hates being disturbed,” you said, trying to calm down.

You actually liked Angie, she didn't deserve for you to pay all your pain with her.

“Bah, I can wait,” the puppet sighed, letting herself fall on a sofa, pretending to read a magazine.

Did she even know how to read?

You shook your head and continued with your task without desire, without motivation, just looking for the time to sit down to read, and for Donna, your Donna, to give you the affection she had left for you, the only one you would have.

“Damn it,” you protested when you heard the screeching sound of the phone, something that, of course, amused the doll.

“Silly,” she said laughing. “Come on, pick it up, maid.”

You groaned, but took a deep breath before approaching the phone.

“Beneviento estate,” you said pretending that everything was fine. After all, you could be talking to Mother Miranda.

“Oh, wow, it seems I'm not talking to Donna…” a deep, sensual voice spoke from the other end. Your jealousy was activated briefly, until your memory recognized that voice, the voice of the oldest lord, Alcina Dimitrescu. “(Y/N), my dear…”

“Oh, yes, um, Lady Dimitrescu, I'll let Donna know right away and…” you said hurriedly, as politely as possible.

“Why the rush? I was looking forward to meeting you…” she said in a honeyed voice, making you frown and blink in confusion.

“Me?” you asked carelessly.

A terribly sexy laugh came from the phone.

“Yes, dear, you,” said the lady in white. “It's funny, Donna talks about you so much that it's almost as if I really knew you.”

“Donna? About me? I-I don't understand,” you said, noticing a clear difficulty in pronouncing the words.

“Don't be modest, if you've won the heart of my sad and dark sister you have a lot of merit, there's no point in downplaying it,” Alcina answered, leaving you even more confused, more and more.

“Oh, and since I'm here, talking to you, I'd like you to reconsider your position and grant me the pleasure of meeting you in person. It would be an honor for me to meet Donna's very famous girlfriend.”

“G-G-G-Girl…” you stammered, thinking that the phone had broken, that she wasn't saying what she was saying. “G-G-G-girlfriend?”

“Mm,” the vampire murmured, exhaling what sounded like cigarette smoke. “The lycan got your tongue, dear?”

“I-I-I… I… I’ll, I’ll tell Donna to call you later,” you said, hanging up quickly, a cold sweat running down your back.

Donna’s girlfriend? You? Really? Was it a dream? Or a nightmare? You didn’t understand anything, everything seemed overwhelming.

“Um… Angie, come here,”you said almost without a voice, indicating to the doll to come closer.

“What do you want?” she asked unpleasantly while you meditated on everything that had happened.

“Tell me…” you whispered carefully, bending down to be at her height. “Does Donna…? Does Donna have a girlfriend?”

“What? Are you laughing at me, stupid?” the puppet protested, moving away from you with distrust.

“No, I'm not laughing at you,” you said, containing your impatience. “Please, answer.”

“What a weird fool... really? You're her girlfriend, you stupid maid!” Angie shrieked, making you fall to the floor in shock.

“What? What do you mean?” you asked, wiping the sweat from your forehead as you stood up and rubbed your back. “Gods, what?”

“Have you been poisoned? Did you hit your head?” Angie asked ironically as you walked away thoughtfully, trying to put your mind in order, something impossible given the situation.

A nervous smile appeared on your face as you walked towards the elevator, denying everything you had heard and everything that had happened.

When did you become her girlfriend? Why didn't you know? Had she ask you in Italian and you didn't understand? What had you missed?

You didn't know, but for once your heart was beating strongly in your chest, with a mixture of relief, love, and bewilderment. You weren't sure what you were to her, but you did know what you were going to do: you had to talk to her.

You quickly went down to the basement, ignoring the darkness and humidity of the place and walking determinedly towards the closed doors of the workshop. Your smile was no longer nervous, but amused, incredulous and hopeful.

“Donna!” you shrieked as you abruptly entered the workshop, making the lady jump out of her chair and ruin the porcelain head she was painting.

“Cazzo!” the lady shouted, juggling with that porcelain piece, which now had a peculiar makeup. “Oddio... la testa... (Y/N)! What are you doing? Don't you know how to knock on the door?”

“Shut up, Donna,” you said in a mocking tone, approaching her chair and grabbing her face with your hands, making her eye widen in astonishment. “Shut up and listen to me, will you?”

She, trapped, nodded slowly, creating a scene that could be comical.

“Alcina just called. She told me she wants to meet me,” you said, taking a breath and closing your eyes. “She says she wants to meet Donna's girlfriend, can you explain it to me? What does she mean by your girlfriend? Me? Does she really think we're dating?”

“Mm? Of course we are. We're dating, what's that question about?” she answered, annoyedly breaking away from your grip.

You, ignoring the answer, breathed in relief, rubbing your eyes.

“Oh, okay, fine, thank goodness that… What!?” you said when you analyzed her words, catching her in your hands again. “Donna, but, but…”

“What's wrong with you?” the lady protested, her voice distorted by your grip.

“Am I your girlfriend? Are we girlfriends? But, Donna, since when?” you asked nervously, letting her go and resting your hands on your hips.

“Yes, you, you're my girlfriend,” she repeated, scared by your attitude. “What is it…?”

“Let's see… Donna, honey, what makes you think that we are dating?” you asked, starting to lose patience.

“Well… well…” the brunette stammered, leaving the ruined head on the table. “I love you.”

Of course, you didn't expect that. You didn't expect such a direct, calm confession. You didn't expect those three words to come out of her mouth so naturally, as if you, somehow, should already know.

“You love me…” you repeated with wide eyes, shaking your head.

“Yes, I love you, (Y/N),” she said, moving her hand to grab yours. “What's wrong? Per favore, don't leave me, don't you love me anymore?”

“Whaaaat…?” you said, mouth agape, not understanding anything, almost as if you had a terrible amnesia. “Oh, no, no… You're serious, right?”

“You don't love me anymore!?” Donna shrieked, moving erratically.

“Donna, listen to me, I… I love you, I love you so much.”

You definitely didn't expect to confess it that way. You didn't expect that, just like her, it would come out so naturally.

“So? What's the problem?” the lady asked, following your advices to calm herself down. “Y-You told me you were with me, you told me that day, (Y/N).”

“That day? Oh, Gods…” you sighed, letting yourself fall into a nearby chair, starting to understand what it was all about.

“You told me that with you I wouldn't be alone, that you would be with me and…” Donna said, on the verge of tears. Surely the poor ventriloquist was as lost and confused as you.

“Wait, you…? Donna, did you think that meant we were together? Together… in a relationship, is that it? Did you think that?”

“Well… I did…” she said in a low voice, taking her hand away from yours, lowering her gaze. “(Y/N), if you want to leave me, at least give me a chance to…”

“Donna, I don't want to leave you,” you said, putting your hands on your shoulders. “I mean, damn it,” you said, noticing your own confusion. “Donna, I didn’t even know we were dating…”

“How could you not know?” she asked, with an accusatory, almost childish look. “I do nothing but give you affection.”

“Affection? You mean…?”

Suddenly, everything started to make sense in your head: the reaction she had that night, the change of mood, the unexplained joy, the caresses, the innocent kisses on the cheek, the affectionate nicknames.

During all that time, there was no one else, just you and her. You were her girlfriend; you were the one who owned her heart. But you didn’t know it. You had no way of knowing it.

You almost wanted to throw yourself on the floor and laugh out loud, in fact, you did, but Donna seemed confused and worried, and that was the most important thing.

“D-Don't laugh, you're making me nervous,” the brunette protested, shrinking in her chair. “Why are you laughing?”

You calmed down a little, approaching her, affectionately caressing her cheek and fixing your gaze on hers.

“Donna… My precious Donna,” you sighed with a tender look. “Do you know how jealous I was thinking that there was another woman in your life?”

“What nonsense, there is no one else in my life, there is only you, I only love you, why did you think that…?”

“It doesn't matter,” you said, not wanting to continue with the subject, relaxing, without stopping caressing her skin while she looked at you expectantly.

“Donna, I didn't expect you to interpret my words like that. Actually I… well, I'm in love with you but… I didn't say those things to ask you to be girlfriends or something like that…Damn, I didn't even think you could feel the same way about me…”

“I do, I love you,” the lady in black said hastily, grabbing your wrist. “Ti amo.”

“Me too,” you said, losing yourself in her gaze, in the sincerity of her words, and yours. “I can't believe you thought we were girlfriends…”

“Aren’t we?” Donna asked, frightened, hardening her expression.

“We are,” you answered briefly, expressing a wish that you didn't know had already been fulfilled. “But just for you to know… being girlfriends means much more than holding hands and you calling me tesoro or dolseza…”

“Dolcezza,” the woman corrected, with a cold, confused tone.

“Whatever,” you said amused, winking at her. “Donna, being girlfriends means much more than that…”

“It means not being alone, right?” she asked, pleading, praying that everything she thought she had lived, wouldn’t become a memory.

“Yes, of course, that too,” you whispered, making the lady smile tenderly again. “But, hey, how do you want me to know if you haven't even kissed me on the lips?”

“Oh, well…” she said quickly, looking away, blushing. “I didn't want to do it until you were ready, I didn't want to go too fast and…”

You didn't let her finish the sentence, as your lips slowly approached hers, resting on them, kissing them for the first time, noticing for the first time the softness of her mouth on yours.

“Mm, that's why I love you, you know?” you whispered, still very close to her lips, while she looked at you surprised. “You're such a sweetheart, Donna. You're a very special woman, and a very beautiful one, by the way…”

She smiled, cupping your face in her hands, pulling you in for a second kiss, that time deeper.

“Forgive me, (Y/N),” she said after a few passionate seconds, ones you'd been waiting for so long. “I'm stupid.”

“No, don't say that,” you said, comforting her.

“I… I have no idea about love, how to love you like I'm supposed to. I'm so clumsy that you didn't even know how I felt about you, or that we were dating.”

“Shh…” you hissed stealing another one of her addictive kisses. “It doesn't matter anymore… I don't care that I was your girlfriend without knowing it. It doesn't matter that you think you don't know how to love… Now, we're together, Donna, I love you, you love me. We'll learn to love together, what do you say?”

“Please…”

#donna beneviento #donna beneviento x reader #re8 donna #re8 village #oneshot #requests

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rafesbuzzcutseason · 2 days ago

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chasing city lights

chapter 10 - vulnerability

synopsis: you move to new york to start fresh, hoping to find comfort in the city’s atmosphere. that’s when you meet sarah cameron, where she takes you to a concert and you catch sight of the lead band member, rafe cameron. it only takes a moment for you to realize you’re captivated by him. as sarah helps you navigate your new life in the city, you start to get pulled deeper into rafe's world—the music, the fame, the chaos. the more you get to know him, the more you realise that rafe is not just the rock star he seems to be. he’s wrestling with his own demons, and the last thing he needs is someone like you getting close.

masterlist

cw: language, fluff central

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

you and rafe had spent the whole afternoon together and it had been everything and more. just like he had promised the other week, he was showing you around LA and never leaving your side.

the sun was beginning to set, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange as you walked along venice beach, his fingers brushing against yours in a way that made your heart race.

"you know," rafe said with a smile, glancing over at you, "i’m glad we’re doing this. not just the tour thing, but... you and me, this."

his words hit differently now, sitting down on the beach to watch the gentle waves and the sky change colours.

you looked over at him, "me too," you said softly, a smile tugging at your lips.

he grinned back, his playful energy still present, but a hint of seriousness took over him. "i've never done this before." he admitted.

"done what?" you asked him.

"caught feelings like this." he spoke softly, almost scared to say the words out loud.

you reached out to touch his cheek, "me neither rafe." you held his gaze, "there's still so much we have to learn about each other."

"i know, and that's what i'm scared of."

"why?" you questioned.

"i'm scared you won't like the version of me you uncover. i'm not good with my words but, i didn't used to be a good person. i was addicted to drugs, i bought girls home every night to fill a void, i was so unhappy and treated people so badly. but this," he stuck his hands out and pointed between the two of you, "i've never experienced this."

his truth taking you by surprise, but making your heart swell that he was opening up to you this way. "i'm not scared rafe. the rafe i know now is a good guy. i've never met someone like you and i want to know all parts of you even those that you think i won't like."

rafe let out a soft, almost shaky breath at your words. it was as if you had taken a weight off his shoulders without even realising it. his eyes softened, and the air between you two stilled for a moment.

his eyes didn't leave yours, no response was needed, but he pulled you in for a soft kiss full of emotion.

he pulled away to stare at you for a moment, searching your face for any sign of doubt, but there was none.

"i’ve been thinking about you a lot," he admitted, almost too quietly. "more than i thought i would. i know we’re still figuring things out, but i can’t help but want to be around you. want to be better because of you."

your heart fluttered at the honesty in his words, the vulnerability making you weak, all laid out in front you.

"rafe, you’re already better. you’ve made it this far and the fact that you're here with me, saying this stuff, shows me just how far you've come. you don’t have to prove anything."

his lips parted as if he was going to say something, but instead, he just smiled. without another word, he reached out, carefully taking your hand into his, the touch gentle, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

after many hours had passed of gentle touches and soft conversation, you headed back to the hotel in time to join the others and pack before your flight back home tomorrow.

your chest was full of happiness, feeling ready for what was to come.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ ☾. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

a/n: why am i crying writing this they are so cute i hate them

taglist: @hoefordrewstarkey @marleymarleymarleymarley @bee-43 @cherryhoneybabe @skye-44 @drewrry @drewrry @yesterdaysproblemm @pogueprincesa @dylsdaily @rafeysworldim19 @valyrianflower @kaiparkerwifes @judesgfirl @4urvalidation @chillgal135 @drewstarkeyslover @yesshewrites1 @amterasuu@babykhloutofthisworld @blushmimi @moonywhisp3rs @rafeysworldim19 @marleymarleymarleymarley @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @vcnillafairy @bambii1i @sammyrenae68

i will be taking people off taglist if that don't interact! just as more people want to be added and need to make it fair<3

#obx #outer banks #obxsmau #boyfriend rafe #drew starkey #rafe cameron #smau #rafe cameron x reader #rafe obx #chasing city lights

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waynes-multiverse · 18 hours ago

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Headcanon: Valentine's Day 💕

(Dean Winchester // Soldier Boy // Beau Arlen // Russell Shaw – Edition)

Prompt: How would your favorite men surprise you for Valentine's Day?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x reader // Soldier Boy x reader // Beau Arlen x reader // Russell Shaw x reader

Warnings: +18 for some language and spice, tons of fluff, a smidge of angst

A/N: Something sweet to sweep you off your feet for the most romantic day of the year 😉 Happy early Valentine's from me, my loves 💖 (And big thanks to the lovely, amazing @zepskies 💜 for starting this trend in the first place. It's addicting 😂🫶)

Dean:

Dean isn’t big on Valentine’s Day and romance. Not because he thinks it’s an unnecessary holiday invented by greeting card companies, but because he genuinely doesn’t know how to be romantic.

You’re aware of this and don’t care if he surprises you with a big gesture. Because truth is, Dean’s romantic when it comes to the little things.

You don’t care if he brings you flowers because he brings you your favorite take-out order when you so much as mention that you’re hungry.

You don’t care if he gets you a card because he gets up in the middle of the night and saunters all the way to kitchen to bring you a glass of water when you tell him you’re thirsty.

You don’t care if he gets you chocolate because he creates personal mixtapes for you with songs you said you liked during random drives.

He listens to you. He holds open doors for you. He protects you. He keeps you calm. He takes care of you when you’re injured. And he loves you with every fiber of his being.

So, really, you don’t care if he makes a big deal out of one random calendar day a year or not. It doesn’t prove his love for you – the little things do.

However, you’re still sweetly surprised (and moved to tears) when you find the Dean Cave dipped in the warm glow of fairy lights and candles.

He’s picked out your favorite chick-flick and your favorite snacks.

He opens his arms with a big, cheeky grin and invites you into his snuggly embrace on the couch.

There’s a box of chocolates on the coffee table, a few of them half eaten, and a note that reads: I’m not a smart man, but I know what love is. Be mine?

You smile and kiss his scruffy cheek. “Always.”

Flustered, he smiles, cheeks tinged pink, and kisses your crown. “Happy unattached-drifter-Christmas, sweetheart.”

Soldier Boy:

To say Ben’s old-school when it comes to romance would be an understatement. While the rest of the year his bedside manners leave much to desire, he strangely shines on Valentine’s.

Mostly, because he knows sex is a given on this holiest of holy days. No sickness or period can stop him.

If you accidentally died, you’re even sure he’d pull a full Weekend at Bernie’s and have a night out with your corpse.

First, he surprises you with a delicately wrapped gift on your bed: a tight-fitting, beautiful emerald evening gown and the matching lacy lingerie set.

Of course he got you underwear, even though he won’t mind if you don’t wear anything at all under that dress.

He then takes you out to the fanciest restaurant in the city, where he reserved a private room away from all the other commoners.

His attention is only on you.

He praises you all night long and gives compliments as if he's never done anything else his entire (long) life.

He orders the most expensive bottle of wine and the best steak and makes sure you know that it is.

He encourages you to play footsie under the table with him before he slips the heel off your foot, and your toes massage the growing bulge in his slacks.

He holds your hand in public and protectively guides you goddamn everywhere with a palm on the small of your back, showing you off like arm candy – the trophy wife.

Sure, you could protest and critique his… traditional views.

You’re not a fucking award he’s won for bad acting!

But your cheeks flush furiously every single time he brags boisterously about you to anyone who will listen. And those who don’t listen are forced to listen.

But you can’t deny it feels good to be so wanted, so desired.

When you come home at the end of the night (with a fucking horse-drawn carriage no less), Ben can barely keep his large hands from roaming your curves. You know he expects his reward now for being the best possible lover ever.

On the kitchen island, you also find a huge bouquet of red roses waiting for you. You can barely appreciate its beauty before the zipper in the back of your dress slides open. Well… rips open.

Between the thorny stems, there’s a card attached, too. It doesn’t read “Be Mine,” however.

Nope, it says, “You are mine.”

And you know he fucking means it.

Beau Arlen:

Your favorite cowboy sheriff will pull out all the stops as soon as the calendar on his desk reads February.

He doesn’t wait for D-Day either. Every day for thirteen days straight, there’s a little surprise waiting for you when you get home.

Your favorite flowers, your favorite meal, your favorite movie, a framed picture of you and him from your first vacation together, a necklace you saw in an antique store you mentioned in passing…

Some might say he’s a little overcompensating.

But Beau has made mistakes in his past, especially on the relationship front, and will be damned if he hasn’t learned from them.

So, he will make sure you feel wanted and loved till the day he dies, even though you keep repeatedly telling him he doesn’t need to make a fuss about Valentine’s Day.

Really, you’re good with picked flowers from the garden.

But Beau’s stubborn and won’t be discouraged. The southern gentlemanliness is rooted deep within his heart and soul.

This day is all about his endless love for you.

Honestly, the sheer amount of everything makes you even slightly uncomfortable. It might sound dumb, but how could you ever compete with that level of commitment?

There ain’t enough blow jobs in this world to make up for his devotion to you.

But on the big day itself, you are actually the one who surprises him with a romantic weekend trip to a cabin in the mountains and excellent fishing spots close by.

You know the biggest gift you could give him is some peace and quiet, time for himself, and a listening ear because he will surely talk the entire time about God and the world while you’re stuck on a boat with him.

But on the night itself, when you give him your gift, he’s actually speechless. Tears brim in his green eyes because you thought of him.

He’s moved, and it moves you.

Because, after all, to you, there’s no bigger gift in this world than his smile.

Russell Shaw:

You don’t expect much when Valentine’s Day looms in the distance. In fact, you don’t expect anything at all.

You’ve only been dating Russell for a couple of months now, and you barely ever see him. Your time together mostly consists of text messages, late night phone calls, and the occasional video chats.

You know his job is complicated. You know he can’t be around as much, even though you direly wish he could.

On the morning of the dreaded day, you receive a simple text message:

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart! I’ll call you later!”

You hate to admit it, but you feel a little disappointed – disenchanted even. You don’t want to make a big deal out of it because it’s a stupid, unimportant almost-holiday.

All day long, you curse the greeting card companies and the poisonous claws of consumerism for making you care in the first place.

You’re a strong, independent woman. You shouldn’t need a man to give you flowers, gifts, or attention to feel appreciated.

Still…

As you park in the driveway after a long day at work where you watched your colleagues fawn over the bouquets they received from their partners, you feel disheartened when you still haven’t even gotten your promised phone call.

Russell always leaves you wanting more… That can both be a good thing and a very bad one.

But as you close the car door, your phone vibrates in your pocket. You all too keenly pull it out and pick up, almost dropping it because your hands are jittering with excitement at this point and your heart is pounding furiously.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Russell greets you on the other end, the deep timbres of his voice sending immediate shivers down your spine. “You home yet?”

All your worries and sorrows are instantly forgotten when you hear the big smile on his freckled face that he’s surely carrying.

He’s worth it, you remind yourself, even when it’s not easy. Life is not always rainbows and butterflies.

“Uh, almost. Unlocking the front door as we speak,” you tell him.

“Sorry I couldn’t call you sooner. Was stuck on a plane. Long flight,” he says mysteriously. You don’t even ask at this point. You know he can’t tell you.

“No worries. I was busy, anyways,” you lie and hope he buys your nonchalance. “Anywhere interesting you are now?”

“You could say that, yeah…”

“Well, if you hold on a second, I’ll slip out of those clothes and make your evening even more interesting with some pictures,” you tease flirtatiously and push the door open to your dark apartment.

The light switches on by itself, though. You blink in surprise before the phone falls out of your hand when Russell beams broadly at you.

“As much as I love getting your dirty little photos, I think I prefer the real thing tonight,” he says slyly.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” You surge forward into his strong arms so forcefully you almost tackle him to the ground, your hands slinging around his neck. If you could keep him caged there forever, you’d be fine with it.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart,” Russell says with a warm chuckle and claims your lips in a searingly passionate kiss that shows you just how much he’s certainly missed you too. “Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”

Hope you enjoyed these little snippets, friends! Do you agree with these? 😉

I legit stole Dean's half-eaten box of chocolate and the Forrest Gump note from another fic of mine. I couldn't resist. I can totally see him doing something silly and cute like that 😂

Happy Valentine's 💕

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@agalliasi @yvonneeeee @hobby27 @iamsapphine @globetrotter28

@mxltifxnd0m @lacilou @feyresqueen @suckitands33 @onlyangel-444

@syrma-sensei @perpetualabsurdity @deans-baby-momma @yoobusgoobus @jessjad

@hunter-or-the-hunted @k-slla @just-levyy @mrsjenniferwinchester @illicithallways

@muhahaha303 @ultimatecin73 @nancymcl @leigh70 @brightlilith

@nesnejwritings @samslvrgirl @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @fromcaintodean @barewithme02

@thebiggerbear @star-yawnznn @thej2report @spnaquakingdom

Other lists that apply: @snowayumi @deans-baby-momma @corruptedcruiser

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